Fic: "For Which I Have to Howl" Chapter Three (Part Two), Kurt/Blaine

[emilianadarling]

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three (Part One)

“Hey there, you.”
The gentle words make Kurt look up from the copy of Vogue in his lap. Blaine is standing in front of him, looking sweet and adorable in a pair of ratty old pyjama pants and a too-big t-shirt. Blaine’s bed-rumpled curls are soaked in sunlight, and despite the obvious stiffness in his limbs there is a small smile on his face.
After the confrontation with Dave, Kurt had marched straight out to his truck, grabbed the magazine from the passenger seat door, and found a grassy patch in the sun to read. To hell with his nice pants. After living on the road with Finn for six months with as few as two changes of underwear at one juncture, he has never managed to care about maintaining his clothes in quite the same way again.
Regardless, the world of flawless beauty that exists only within the glossy pages of fashion magazines has very much remained a comfort. It is a world where the outlandish and strange is made to look reasonable. Where perfection can be achieved, even if only with the help of fancy computer editing software and expensive make-up artists.
“Hey,” Kurt replies quietly, smiling up at the unkempt but happy-looking boy in front of him.
“I figured I’d let you have a minute with your brother. Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” says Kurt, and it is really only when the word leaves Kurt’s mouth that he realizes it is completely true. He feels somewhat numb with the shock of the confrontation with Dave, but also... freer. Certain. As though walking away from Dave had been like severing a gangrenous limb; it was painful, but its poison could no longer hurt him now. As though rejecting the burly young man had ended a dangerous situation that he hadn’t been fully aware of in the first place.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Kurt continues softly, looking up into Blaine’s sunlit face. The lines of his face are soft and rounded and ever-so-handsome. Blaine’s chin and upper lip are dusted with a faint hint of scruff, and his thick eyebrows are pulled together in an expression of unmistakable affection. His lips look soft.
He’s so beautiful.
“Blaine, what was the first thing you noticed about me?”
The question leaves Kurt’s mouth before he can fully process it, and Blaine blinks. For a moment, he gets a faraway look in his eyes - before he takes a seat on the ground next to Kurt. They sit there in silence, side by side, before Blaine speaks.
“It was your smell,” says Blaine matter-of-factly. He lets out a small, sardonic laugh. “I’d like to say it was something romantic. Like your laugh, or your smile, or... or how you can completely eviscerate someone with your sarcasm. But... it was your smell. It hit me as soon as you entered the room. Mouth-watering and delicate, with just a hint of something deeper. Duskier. It almost bowled me over, to be honest.”
Kurt feels something in his stomach falter, but Blaine isn’t finished. His boyfriend leans over and takes his hand; presses their foreheads together.
“Of course now I know that I would have fallen in love with you regardless,” says Blaine, and the words are almost painfully earnest. “All of this aside -” He makes a wide gesture, seemingly to encompass the motel, the woods, the world. “You are so beautiful, and funny, and strong. It might have taken me a little longer to see all that without the enormous red flag; I’m bad at romance sometimes, Kurt, you know that. But... you move me, Kurt. In a way that no one else ever has.”
It is exactly what Kurt needs to hear. He can feel a smile stretching over his lips, and he gives Blaine’s hand a squeeze.
“Do you want to head up to your room for a bit?” Kurt asks, and Blaine makes a small noise of pleasure.
“That sounds nice. I’m a bit tired, to be honest. And we can talk a bit about next month. Are you heading home in the morning?”
“Mmmhmm. I have vocal and dance classes to get back to, and Dad and Carole to spend some time with.” Kurt sighs. “I’m going to have to tell them.”
Blaine nods, then rises somewhat-stiffly to his feet and extends one hand to help Kurt up as well. Kurt accepts the hand - its fingers so very warm, curled around his own - and Blaine manages to pull him up gently.
It only takes them a few minutes to walk up to Blaine’s room, and fortunately they do not encounter anyone on their way there.
“Tina lent me a couple of books about the mating process in general, and she tried to bookmark a few places that discussed mating with humans specifically,” says Blaine as he closes the door. “Just let me grab one, okay?”
There is a small pile of dusty-looking books sitting next to the room’s rickety-looking chair. Blaine leans over to pick one up, and cannot quite suppress a hiss of pain as bending pulls at his sore muscles.
“All right, that’s quite enough,” says Kurt, voice taking on a commanding tone. “Shirt off and face down on the bed, Blaine Anderson. You need a backrub so badly it’s practically physically painful to me.”
Blaine’s face falls, and it is practically the most adorable thing Kurt has ever seen.
“But the books...” he trails, looking down at the books with an expression of mild distress.
“You can summarize,” counters Kurt airily, extending one long finger in an authoritative gesture. “Bed. Now.”
As Blaine strips off the baggy shirt, Kurt most definitely does not get squiggly feelings at the sight of his boyfriend’s naked chest. Because he is used to the whole “the boy I love is a werewolf, and thus a bit on the more strapping side than the other boys” thing. But really, Blaine is gorgeous. Well-built in a way that looks nothing like the showy, bulging muscles that city guys work so hard to bulk up. Instead, he is lean and compact, solid. His nipples are small and brown, and there is a trail of dark hair leading into the waistline of his pyjama pants.
Wincing, Blaine crawls onto the bed and lies down face-first with his arms at his sides. Kurt peels off his own pants - because wearing skin-tight jeans while giving someone a backrub is more uncomfortable than it is sexy- straddles his waist, and experimentally digs the heels of his hands beneath his boyfriend’s shoulder blades. Blaine lets out a pathetic groan, and Kurt begins to slowly work the muscle there. Blaine’s skin is unnaturally hot, and it is a challenge to find a balance between being gentle and making sure that Blaine can actually feel his hands.
“Nngggh,” mumbles Blaine, his face buried in a pillow, as Kurt moves his hands up to knead the flesh between Blaine’s neck and shoulders. “That’s... ffffffffuck.”
Kurt lets out an involuntary giggle. Blaine makes a small indignant sound, but it is quickly converted into a groan of mingled pain and pleasure as Kurt works his fingers in harder. Kurt may look delicate, but years of practice have taught him not to go easy with post-transformation backrubs. Blaine’s whole body may be sore, but not taking the time to properly treat the muscles will just mean they will take longer to heal.
“’s just not fair,” says Blaine, still muffled by the pillow. He sounds dazed and slightly drunk on sensation. “I have... nggghh... extenuating circumstances.”
“You had a rough night, didn’t you?” asks Kurt with near-clinical calm. Blaine groans in response. Deciding that the shoulders are fairly well-massaged, he slides his hands down to focus on the area between Blaine’s shoulder blades and lower back. Blaine makes a helpless, needy noise and clenches his hands in the sheets.
Kurt isn’t sure if he should enjoy making Blaine moan and whimper like this quite as much as he does. It makes him feel... powerful. In control. It’s a nice change, and one that has certain parts of his body even more interested than others. The heat of Blaine’s skin in combination with the noises he’s making is practically sinful, after all. Kurt can hardly be blamed for what is a completely natural reaction to having his boyfriend moaning and helpless beneath him.
“Go on, then,” says Kurt, digging his thumbs into a particularly coiled knot and beginning to work it loose. Blaine makes a noise that is half-confusion, half-pain. After a minute of pressing small hard circles, it releases. Kurt leans forward until his lips are just brushing against the curve of Blaine’s ear. “Summarize for me,” he whispers.
“Oh, that is crue- ah!” Blaine exclaims, as Kurt presses the heels of his hands into his boyfriend’s lower back and pushes, leaning his whole weight into the movement. Blaine’s back cracks with a satisfying clunk, and even though Blaine is making tiny indignant noises his body is practically purring with satisfaction. “... m’kay, m’kay... but go easy on me, sweetheart, otherwise I won’t be able to string two words together.”
Satisfied with the compliment to his massaging abilities, Kurt complies - and Blaine begins to speak.
“Nnngh... well... I went and talked to Tina, and she’s looking up some more specific information. But from what I can tell so far, our ritual is going to be quite similar to the standard mating p - ah, mmmm, right there - process, but with a couple of adjustments. How much do you know about the mating ritual?”
“Mm. Just the basics, really.” Kurt’s hands rub little circles into the base of Blaine’s spine. “Night before the full moon, drink each other’s blood -”
“We’ll probably have to have a knife and bowl setup or something, because you don’t have sharp teeth or nails.”
“Ooh, that’s a little bit vampire-esque.”
“Kurt, be serious. Vampires don’t exist.”
“Anyways. Then we’ll have some intense animalistic sex, followed by another little guzzle of crimson delight - and hey presto!” Kurt raises his hands from Blaine’s back, and his boyfriend whimpers at the sudden loss of contact. “Mated for life. My scent will change, yadda yadda yadda, yours forever, the end.”
He scoots down to straddle Blaine’s outstretched legs so that he can access Blaine’s ass. He pulls the tattered pyjama bottoms down just enough that the smooth curves are entirely exposed, and begins to work the muscles there, as well. He is certain that Blaine can feel the evidence of his arousal digging into the back of his leg, but his boyfriend is too much of a gentleman to say anything about it.
“It won’t be quite as simple as that with us, I’m afraid. When - mmm - when two wolves drink from each other, it brings out the wolf’s animalistic nature. Since you’re human, if I have enough of your blood for this to work... well.” Blaine shifts awkwardly beneath him, and not just because of the massage. “I’m going to go a little bit wild. It might be safer if we have someone sit in on the process, just to make sure I don’t do anything too... drastic.”
Kurt’s hands pause mid- rub. “Okay, ew. Not exactly the biggest turn-on in the world.” Blaine tenses underneath him, and Kurt knows instinctually that he is about to begin lecturing about safety, and protection, and necessary measures. It’s very sweet, but Kurt has honestly heard it enough times to know Blaine’s ‘I love you but I want to protect you’ speech off by heart. Kurt quickly ends with, “but whatever gets this done, I suppose.” And then shudders. “Ugh, now I’m imagining Finn or Rachel or someone just sitting there and watching us get it on.”
“It doesn’t have to be Finn, Kurt, that’s disgusting.”
And Kurt just can’t help laughing at that. Because, really. Sometimes this dark, lurking underworld can just be so silly. He is agreeing to become part of a group of people where having someone watch you bang? Completely acceptable. Having that person be your stepbrother? Cause to bring out the brain bleach.
A thought occurs to Kurt, and it makes his laughter still and his nose scrunch up in uncertainty. “Blaine... how will drinking your blood affect me? Is it different, or the same, or...?”
“I have no idea. Us mating with humans is pretty damn rare, actually. And those that do don’t tend to keep thorough records. We’ll have to wait on Tina for that one.” Blaine shifts again. “Do you mind if we stop for now? This is amazing, but you’re a little too good at it and I’m already a bit sore. Starting to get tender.”
Obligingly, Kurt shifts off of Blaine and onto the bed next to him. Blaine rolls onto his back, unable to contain a pleased hum at the new looseness in his muscles, and wraps his arm around Kurt so that the slender boy is cradled against his chest. He places a kiss on Kurt’s forehead.
“Thank you for that,” he murmurs, and Kurt snuggles closer into Blaine’s naked chest. “How did the talk with your brother go, by the way? I have a sneaking suspicion that Puck’s going to make an announcement tonight, so it’s probably a good thing you were able to corner him.”
Kurt shrugs, breathing in Blaine’s warm smell. “I think it went all right? He was supportive in the end.” He hesitates. “Dave Karofsky was listening outside the door, though. We talked.”
Just as Kurt suspected he would, Blaine’s body immediately fills with the stillness of someone attempting very hard to remain relaxed. It is all the confirmation Kurt needs.
“Oh?” asks Blaine, carefully neutral. There is a beat, and then his arm tightens around Kurt’s shoulders seemingly involuntarily. “He didn’t threaten you again, did he?”
“No.” Kurt doesn’t give himself time to think about the next words. “He’s in love with me.”
The silence that follows this statement could be cut with a knife. Kurt is suddenly aware of his and Blaine’s breathing, and how loud it is in the empty room.
“He said that?” asks Blaine, voice tiny.
“Not in so many words.” Kurt sighs and pushes himself up to rest on one elbow. Blaine has a guilty expression on his face, and his eyes are dark with some intense emotion. “You knew.”
It isn’t a question, but Blaine nods anyways. Kurt waits for frustration to well up in his chest, but it doesn’t come. After a few moments, he decides that he isn’t actually angry at all. He does understand, even if the idea of Blaine hiding things from him does make him feel slightly queasy.
“You should have told me.” Kurt sighs. “I think... I think I knew, in the back of my head. But still.” Kurt lets out a small, almost-dignified snort and prods Blaine in the belly. “You seriously have to start trusting me, mister.”
“I do trust you. I just... I have no excuse. He just... made me so nervous when he was around you, and I didn’t want...” Blaine lets out another sigh. “I’m sorry.”
They lie like that, intertwined, for a few long minutes. Eventually, Kurt strains his neck in order to catch a glimpse of Blaine’s face, and finds it crumpled with anxiety and guilt. The urge to make this gentle boy feel better, to push away his worries and concerns, wells up inside of Kurt with such immediacy and strength that it almost surprises him. Because he just can’t care, about Karofsky. This is what is important: wanting to make the person you love feel better, even if they have very recently been an insecure idiot.
The renewed realization of Blaine’s body next to his, solid and toned and inhumanly warm, revitalizes something else within Kurt as well. Grinning wickedly, he shifts - and begins to press kisses down the length of Blaine’s body. He starts at the place where his neck meets his jaw, then moves down to his collarbone, eventually propping himself up and straddling his boyfriend’s body in order to keep moving steadily downward.
“I promise you, Mister Anderson,” Kurt continues, pressing a kiss to the skin right beside Blaine’s nipple. “That ship -” He kisses Blaine’s stomach. “-has truly sailed.” Kurt emphasizes this by sliding his tongue over the exposed hipbone peeking out from Blaine’s low-riding pyjama bottoms.
Blaine inhales sharply, his hands moving upward to ghost uncertainly over Kurt’s shoulders. Kurt can tell that Blaine is perplexed with his sudden interest - but not unenthusiastic. He nuzzles his nose and mouth against the growing bulge in Blaine’s pyjama bottoms.
“Are you all clean?” asks Kurt, voice coming out slightly huskier than intended.
“What?” gasps Blaine, hand clenching spasmodically on Kurt’s shoulder as Kurt mouths him through the thin fabric. “Oh, I - no, I’ll go clean up.” Shakily, Blaine stands and walks into the attached bathroom. The faucet turns on. Kurt reclines on the bed and waits, stroking himself idly through his underwear.
Kurt is aware that, according to every depiction or allusion he has ever seen in movies or porn clips, he is absurdly fussy about hygiene during oral sex. The idea of taking something so utterly unclean into his mouth is, inherently, unpleasant to him. Kurt knows that Blaine does not feel the same way about this, although perhaps this has something to do with the wolf: the idea of basking in his lover’s every smell and taste is enough to make Blaine arch up and his eyes roll back into his head. But Blaine has always been more than accommodating of his particularity in this regard.
This is fortunate because - embarrassingly, mortifyingly, nonsensically - Kurt absolutely adores giving head.
When Blaine comes back from the washroom his pyjama bottoms are gone, leaving him entirely exposed. His cock is half-hard and surrounded by soft dark curls, still damp from the tap water. The sight of it makes Kurt release a small, involuntary noise of want.
Blaine looks self-conscious, but only slightly. Because every so often, Kurt finds himself in this particular sort of mood. And long years of insistence and demonstration on Kurt’s behalf have finally silenced Blaine’s unfounded concerns that Kurt only does this out of obligation, or as some bizarre way to prove himself. Again, this is fortunate, seeing as having Blaine’s cock in his mouth sounds like the most fabulous idea in the world right about now.
It takes far too long for Blaine to be lying back on the bed again, but finally Kurt has his boyfriend splayed beneath him. Kurt deliberately catches Blaine’s eyes - confident blue meeting tentative hazel - before taking him in hand and licking a long, slow stripe up the length of Blaine’s cock. Blaine shudders, but it is Kurt who feels driven half-mad with desire: it’s still damp with warm water from the faucet, and the clean taste of skin is so delicious Kurt can barely restrain himself.
He manages to, swirling his tongue around the tip instead greedily taking the entire thing into his mouth. Blaine’s cock is hardening, filling. Kurt glances up, lips barely beginning to graze the tip, only to see that his boyfriend is staring at him with a look of complete rapture on his face.
“Fuck, Kurt,” exhales Blaine, reaching a hand up to briefly card through Kurt’s hair - as though he cannot help himself. As though he simply must reach out and touch. “You’re so gorgeous. So beautiful. ”
Heat rushes into the base of Kurt’s stomach, and the comment renders him almost painfully hard and straining against the front of his briefs. A smirk is determinedly attempting to steal across his open lips.
“Mmmm,” he hums, and the syllable sends tiny vibrations down Blaine’s cock that make Blaine hiss in a breath of air. His hand tightens in Kurt’s hair. “Don’t think flattery will get you anywhere,” Kurt teases, pulling away just far enough for his words to be audible - before taking the tip into his mouth fully and beginning to suck.
Blaine groans. His hand twitches in an aborted gesture, and Kurt can feel the forced stillness in his hips as Kurt suckles at only the head. Kurt slides a warning hand up to rest on Blaine’s hip as he swirls his tongue, but it isn’t really necessary. Blaine is good at restraint, unless Kurt wants him to let go; good at stopping himself from thrusting up into the wet heat of Kurt’s mouth as much as he is good at holding back the wolf inside of him.
It makes Kurt feel so powerful, having this beautiful boy helpless with pleasure underneath him. Naked where Kurt is mostly clothed, writhing where Kurt is in control. He works at just the tip, pulling back every so often to breathe hot air over the saliva-slick skin. Every shift of his mouth elicits tiny reactions; the straining of Blaine’s cock, a sharp inhale of breath. Blaine makes a keening, desperate sound at the back of his throat - and Kurt cannot hold back any longer. He slides his mouth down to engulf the entire length, feeling his nose brush briefly against Blaine’s stomach as he sucks down around the length.
His boyfriend gasps, tangling in the sheets, and Kurt cannot help but let out a gurgled groan of satisfaction around Blaine’s cock. The feel of it filling up his mouth is so good, so comforting. The weight of it on his tongue, the clean but distinctly masculine taste. The way he can feel his gag reflex protesting weakly; long practice allows him to shove the reaction down. Instead, Kurt begins to set up a steady rhythm.
“Don’t deserve this,” gasps Blaine as Kurt takes his cock deeper and deeper, gasping every time Kurt pulls back and runs his tongue over the tip. Kurt reaches up with one hand and begins to gently stroke Blaine’s balls, mouth still sliding obscenely over his cock. Going faster now; sloppier, more desperate. Kurt’s jaw is beginning to get sore, but he can’t bring himself to care. The ache of it, the stretch of his lips as he takes Blaine deeper, feels good.
“Kurt, the way you l-look... pretty lips all stretched around me, looking up through those fucking eyelashes... ahhh!”
Kurt groans, takes him so deep he can feel Blaine bump against the back of his throat. It takes him slightly too close to choking, so he pulls back; but the frantic heat remains. The feel of Blaine gagging him, filling up his mouth is so good - so hard, and inhumanly hot, and a delicious salty taste now leaking from the tip. Before meeting Blaine Kurt had never understood talking during sex. Kurt sometimes suspects that Blaine enjoys the sound of his own voice a little too much, but his boyfriend’s desperate words never fail to go straight to Kurt’s cock.
With a small amount of surprise, Kurt realizes just how much this has been affecting him, too. Kurt keeps sucking as he reaches down, pulls himself out of his underwear, and begins to stroke himself.
The touch of his own hand is barely important; just a tool with which to bring his body the same satisfaction that making Blaine feel good is already giving him. But the sight of Kurt getting off on this, stroking himself as he swallows Blaine’s cock, is apparently too much for Blaine. The older boy groans, a wanton edge to his voice, and moves to help. Kurt forces his hips down and launches into a frantic speed, moving his mouth hard on Blaine’s cock and tightening his lips around him. Blaine whines but relents, lies back. Lets this happen.
He doesn’t want Blaine to touch him. He wants Blaine to come, hard, when the slide of Kurt’s mouth around him allows him to.
“So perfect, Kurt. Fucking perfect around me.” Blaine is babbling now, and by the tension in his body it is taking all of his restraint to stop himself from grabbing Kurt’s head and fucking up into his mouth. “Smell so good, all hot and wanting, taking me all down...” He gasps, and the last sentence tumbles out of him in a rush. “K-Kurt - please, I’m so close, I -”
It’s all the warning Kurt gets, but it’s enough. He pulls off, hand coming up to finish Blaine off. Blaine’s whole body tenses, jerks and his hips stutter - and the sight of him coming, cock pulsing up into Kurt’s hand and the hot, sticky feel of come dripping onto Kurt’s fingers is enough. Kurt gasps as his own orgasm hits and he comes over his own hand, the action almost unimportant compared to the beauty of watching Blaine come. He shudders through the aftershock and feels his whole body sing in a way that has very little to do with his own physical completion.
He looks down at Blaine, and heat flares in Kurt’s stomach again despite his orgasm a few moments previous. Blaine looks utterly debauched, lying panting on the bed with his legs spread wide and his curls a dark mess against the white linen. He is panting, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with echoing pleasure.
Kurt hums contentedly, reaching over with his clean hand to grab a tissue from the bedside table. Blaine lets Kurt gently dab at his cock, shuddering at the touch but not moving from his sprawled position of post-coital bliss. When they are both acceptably tidied, Kurt tosses the wadded tissue in the waste basket. After stripping off the rest of his clothes, Kurt crawls up Blaine’s body and kisses him, aware that his own lips are probably red and swollen. Blaine kisses weakly back, making small perfect noises against Kurt’s lips. Letting his boyfriend open his mouth and slide his tongue inside.
He loves Blaine like this, all pliant and sleepy. Eyes heavily lidded, looking at Kurt as though he is the most incredible thing in the world.
“... mm... take such good care of me, Kurt...” Blaine murmurs, and Kurt settles on top of him, resting his head against Blaine’s warm chest. He can hear Blaine’s heartbeat.
They belong to each other, like this. Naked bodies pressed together, Kurt surrounded by Blaine’s heat as the other boy reaches an arm around to hold him closer.
No matter what, they are equals in this. Facing it together.
“Blaine?” asks Kurt, the words soft against Blaine’s chest.
“Mm?” The noise is quiet, delayed: Blaine is on the cusp of sleep. Kurt doesn’t blame him. It’s been an overwhelming day for him, after all.
“Do you think anyone will be upset about this? About... us mating?”
“Mm... ‘f course not. They all love you. I can’t see why anyone would have a problem with it.” Blaine kisses Kurt softly on the forehead, then squeezes him closer. “Sleep now, m’kay?”
“Okay,” whispers Kurt, curling into Blaine’s warmth. It only takes Blaine a few seconds to drift off, and Kurt follows a few minutes later.

--

“I have a problem with this.”
The guest dining area of the Woods’ Edge Motel was clearly set up to accommodate little more than scattered clusters of people eating meagre continental breakfast. An ignored counter in one corner of the room was clearly intended to serve as a cereal distribution hub; enormous dusty carafes that once held coffee and hot water still sit there, lonely and abandoned. At some point, however, the pack had shoved a great mass of four-person tables together in a crude imitation of one large dining room table. Every night - with the exception of the full moon - the entire pack gathers around the makeshift table to consume whatever meal has been prepared by those on dinner duty.
At Puck’s invitation, Kurt is joining the group for dinner tonight. He and Blaine had only just woken up in time to dress and head downstairs, still groggy from their afternoon naps well as what came before it. The table is stacked high with plates of pork chops and mixed vegetables, as well as two steaming bowls of pasta with steak. Kurt’s groceries have clearly been well-received by Sam, Tina, and Artie, whose turn it was to cook.
The meal had been going well; the palpable relief of the day after the full moon made for a light mood, and everyone had thanked Kurt for taking the trouble to pick up groceries. (Puck slipped him a few hundred dollar bills under the table.) Although the pork was a little underdone for Kurt’s tastes, it was a pleasant evening.
Until Puck had wrapped an arm around Quinn’s shoulder, cleared his throat, and announced the imminent addition a new - and very human - member to their pack at the end of the month. The words were barely out of his mouth before Rachel was on her feet, hands in the air in an expression of frustration.
“Rachel, what are you talking about?” asks Finn from his seat next to her. The expression on his face reminds Kurt once more of a kicked puppy; betrayed and upset.
“I’m sorry, Finn, but this isn’t about you.” Even standing, Rachel is still tiny in comparison to her boyfriend. The dress she is wearing highlights her smallness, showing off her slim waist and petite stature. She turns toward Puck, brown eyes flashing. There is a matter-of-fact look on her face. “In what twisted universe is this fair?”
“Rachel -” starts Tina, but Rachel cuts her off.
“I’ve been with this pack for years now, and we always followed the rules. No humans in direct contact with the pack. Now, of course I understand that when Finn and Kurt arrived together, an exception had to be made. Finn needed assistance in rebuilding his delicate sense of self, and Kurt made the integration process less painful. But frankly, Finn has me now. This has been a problem for years! And you’re proposing taking Kurt in. Permanently. Without him even turning.”
There is a sinking feeling in Kurt’s stomach. Blaine puts a hand on Kurt’s thigh and opens his mouth as if to speak, but Finn gets there first.
“He’s my brother,” says Finn, and the words are tiny in the large room. Kurt looks around the table, and sees several pack members purposefully avoiding his eyes. Dave is among them, but that isn’t too surprising.
“Exactly!” exclaims Rachel, words coming even quicker. “How is it fair that your brother has been able to come here and visit and my two gay dads can’t? Some of us still have living family or friends, but it made sense shutting them all out when we were keeping everyone away. But that rule is being thrown in our face every time Kurt comes to stay. It’s not that I don’t like you,” insists Rachel, turning and fixing Kurt with an expression that he can tell is supposed to be sympathetic. “I do. But this isn’t fair.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” snaps Blaine, and Kurt gives him a warning look. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to give Rachel Berry the verbal smack-down; oh, does he ever. He knows that, when provoked, he and Rachel are more than a match for each other. But as much as he hates to admit it, she has a point that other people are going to be able to relate to.
And even aside from that... Kurt knows that he is inherently an outsider here. He simply does not have as much of a say as anyone else currently sitting at the table. And as much as ‘suck it, Berry, you’re just pissed that I’m going to live the career you always dreamed of and now you can never have’ would be satisfying to say, it simply isn’t going to help his argument.
And out of the corner of his eye, he can see Puck’s expression growing harder and harder. Quinn is sitting tensely beside him.
Dave looks down at his plate in silence.
“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Everyone turns to look at the source of the voice, and Kurt’s heart gives an unpleasant pang when he sees Mercedes, sitting with a sad expression on her face. She doesn’t look up from her plate, dark curls falling in waves around her face. “You know I love you... but it isn’t fair. I miss my dad.” Kurt is horrified to see that her eyes are shining. “Why can’t he come and see me like you see Blaine and Finn? Why are you any less dangerous to us?”
“I miss my little brother and sister,” says Sam quietly, and there is a twittering of support from a few people.
“Kurt is human,” pipes up Brittany. “I can smell him with my nose.”
“Precisely what I mean,” continues Rachel, gathering steam with the support. Beside her, Finn looks absolutely miserable. Rachel puffs herself up, long brown hair swishing as she gestures grandly. “I’m personally offended by this decision. Kurt isn’t one of us. He doesn’t belong -”
“Enough,” growls Puck, and the whole table falls silent. Rachel’s eyes are suddenly wide, and she sits back down abruptly into her chair. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. Finn doesn’t look at her.
“Guys,” Puck continues heatedly. “Calm the fuck down. In case any of you have forgotten, this is not a democracy. In the end, what I say goes. This whole thing was my suggestion, and I’m sticking to it. I think it’s going to make us stronger, not weaker - but only if everyone takes two seconds to think before they open their big mouths. Now, we’re not talking about this anymore tonight.”
He angrily stabs a carrot with his fork, and that is the end of the discussion. Rachel suddenly looks even smaller than before, looking down at her plate with tight lips for a few long minutes before finally continuing to eat. The rest of the meal is eaten in silence, only the clatter of forks and knives against plates ringing out in the large room. No one seems to know where to look.
Blaine grips his knee very tightly through the entire meal. Kurt noiselessly eats his pasta and wonders how on earth things got so complicated so quickly.

--

Blaine is one of people on rotation for dish duty that evening, so after the stilted dinner is complete he runs upstairs to grab one of Tina’s books for Kurt to start looking through while he cleans up with Brittany and Mike. It’s a sweet gesture, and Blaine clearly needs to be placated after the disastrous announcement. So Kurt settles into one of the almost-comfortable motel lobby chairs and cracks open the book. Its leather-embossed cover is cracked, and the pages are yellowing.
He’s only just opened the book, however, when he hears someone clear their throat beside him. Kurt looks over and sees Mercedes, wringing her hands with a conflicted expression on her face.
“Hi, Kurt,” she says, sounding subdued.
“Hi,” he responds, and winces. Because Mercedes had been his first friend when he first arrived with Finn all those years ago. She had been kind, and funny, and helped him feel sane again after the complete disaster of their six months on the road. She’d told him about her dad a few times; his gentleness, his soft deep voice, how much he used to love taking her for ice cream on hot summer days. And the fact that, as far as he knows, his daughter is dead.
And even though Kurt hasn’t been as close with Mercedes since he and Blaine began dating, it makes his stomach twist unpleasantly to be the exception she wants her father to be. “I’m sorry,” he says, setting the book down in his lap.
“No, I’m sorry,” says Mercedes, shaking her head so that her large hoop earrings sway. “Rachel was being completely uncalled for, and I just added fuel to the fire.” She bites down on her bottom lip, brown eyes shining with distant sadness. “But... it is hard, Kurt. We’ve had these rules for so long, and then you and Finn show up and they all go flying out the window. I just... can’t help but wonder why you. Why not my family, or Sam’s, or anyone else’s. It just seems so unfair, sometimes. Being like this.”
“I know,” agrees Kurt, but the tightness in her mouth says that he doesn’t know. Not really. He’s still an outsider, even to her. He still doesn’t really belong. He runs a hand though his hair. “I just... I don’t know how to apologize for being allowed to see my brother again. For being allowed to meet Blaine. I know it’s not fair, but... I’m still happy.”
“Yeah.” She lets out a deep breath, and Kurt can still see the wheels in her head turning. It hits him that he has absolutely no idea when he and Mercedes stopped spending time together. It was so gradual, to him. There is such loneliness in the way she holds herself, in the tone of her voice, and Kurt has no idea how to make her feel better anymore.
“I should probably head to bed,” she continues, after an awkward pause. “Still hurting a bit. You know.” He nods, and Mercedes leans over and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. Her lips are very warm against his cheek. “Night, Kurt,” she murmurs, and turns to head upstairs.
All at once, Kurt feels so much more exhausted than he did before. Worn-out and directionless, no idea what to do to make things better again. He rubs his eyes and decides that he may as well read the damn book, in any case. He opens it once more. The section Blaine had been looking through has been marked with a pink post-it note. Kurt flips to that section, eyes heavy despite the afternoon nap.

On The Copulation of Lycanthropes
The permanent union of two human wolves has been utilised for millennia - certainly since the first recorded incident of lycanthropy - as a method of uniting warring packs, strengthening existing groups of wolves, and uniting lovers in an everlasting alliance. It is thus an extremely important social practice, and should be examined with close attention.
The formation of this union - commonly known as “mating” - is remarkable for the physical changes it inspires in its subjects. The smell of both wolves is literally altered, intending to signify mutual ownership as well as a warning to potential threats. Increased awareness of one another is an additional side-effect of the coupling.
Successful mating between lycanthropes and homo-sapiens is quite rare, partly due to the violent way in which lycanthropy initially displays itself. The human spouses of those bitten by the wolf are frequently killed in the initial attack; alternatively, many die on the night of their spouse’s first full moon. The wolf’s need for isolation is also not conducive to finding potential human mates. Those humans that do arouse the attention of the lycanthrope are frequently killed by the very same wolf either around or on the full moon due to lack of control and madness inspired by the human’s scent. Additionally, mating can be quite dangerous for the human involved, and some perish in the attempt. A high number of humans that are taken on as full mates have this done against their will, as an attempt for the wolf to better control and keep track of the human it is so fascinated with.
The process of mating itself....

It is only when Kurt feels a pair of delicate, willowy arms hook under his knees and around his shoulders that he realizes he must have fallen asleep. Despite their small size, the arms easily scoop both him and the book up. The identity of the mystery person is solved when Kurt feels the prominent bump against his side.
“... ‘m not actually a child, you know,” Kurt mumbles against Quinn’s chest. Her long blonde hair tickles his neck as she carries him - he assumes - upstairs to Blaine’s bedroom.
“Yes, well. You weigh about as much as one, and you don’t really look much older than five. So I think I can be excused for the mistake.” The sarcasm is evident in Quinn’s naturally soft voice, but it is not vindictive. Instead, there is a tone of affection there that Kurt has rarely heard her use on anyone except Puck.
“Mmf,” counters Kurt, snuggling absently into Quinn’s warmth. Her protruding belly feels awkward beside him. “You know,” says Kurt, brain-to-mouth filter fogged with sleep, “for the longest time, I assumed that you guys had litters.”
Quinn actually freezes mid-step.
Oh, fuck.
“I don’t think that now!” squeaks Kurt, back-pedalling frantically. He’s totally awake now, straining to get a look at Quinn’s face; all he can see is her sharp jaw line. “I mean, that’s ridiculous. You’re having a baby, which means you’re... having a baby.”
He almost feints in relief when Quinn snorts at him derisively and begins to walk again. She may be slender and beautiful, but Quinn has a viscous streak that has only been accentuated by her pregnancy.
“You’re a dumbass, Munchkin-Boy.” They begin to ascend the stairs, Quinn taking each step slowly and carefully. Kurt suspects she might be trying to avoid jostling him. It’s very sweet, if unnecessary. “What was that ever-so-captivating thing you were reading, anyways?”
“What? Oh.” Kurt glances down at the book still cradled in his arms. “Just some incredibly depressing information I already knew about mating. What time is it, anyways?”
“You’ve only been out there for, like, twenty minutes. Your crazy-haired soul mate is still scrubbing up.” They reach the third floor. Any ordinary human would be slightly out of breath having carried a grown man up two flights of stairs, but Quinn is completely unaffected. She lets out dismissive huff of air. “Don’t worry too much about Berry. The girl loves drama; when she got bitten, I imagine she was happy to have something special and unique to set her apart.”
Kurt laughs, despite the inappropriateness of the joke. There is no need for Quinn to keep carrying him all the way to Blaine’s room as he is now wide awake. But it seems easier to let her walk him the last couple of paces. After so many years around werewolves, Kurt is somewhat used to being treated like an unusually talkative ragdoll.
When they reach Blaine’s room, Quinn deposits him gently but unceremoniously on the ground.
“See you, Hummel,” she quips, turning to walk down the hallway without another word. The brevity is a complete contrast to the kindness of carrying him up here, and Kurt suspects she doesn’t want to be too nice all at once. It might explode the universe, or something. But there is something he’s been wanting to know for days; something these old, formal books haven’t been able to convey. Realizing that he is heading back to Lima in the morning for at least another week, Kurt cannot stop himself saying:
“Quinn,” says Kurt. “What’s it like to be mated with someone?”
She pauses, and then turns. It strikes Kurt, in that moment, how completely gorgeous she is. He may not be sexually attracted to women, but he can still appreciate the aesthetics. Quinn’s features are delicate and fair, thin eyebrows and slight nose perfectly fitting her small bone structure. Her condition has not seemed to impact any part of her body apart from her swollen belly. Arms and legs still long and tiny, and not a hint of pregnancy weight around her face. It’s absurd, Kurt knows, but on Quinn it looks... right. Even her bump looks elegant, highlighted by the thin-strapped summer dress she is currently wearing.
“It was the best thing I ever did with my life.” Quinn’s words are frank, and shockingly earnest. “It’s like... I can always feel how Noah is, whether he’s in the same room or miles and miles away. He’s always there, at the back of my mind. Always with me. I always know how he feels... and I know, with every second of every day, how much he loves me. He can feel the same from me. Mating is... certainty. It’s forever. We belong to each other, and I know that I would do anything - anything - to protect him.”
Quinn runs a small pink tongue over her lips, brushes her long hair over her ear. “I was a really different person before I changed. I was... ugly. And hateful. Being turned... it challenged so much of who I was, of what I believed.” She laughs, the sound small but happy. “Noah grounds me. We ground each other. And I’m really happy you’ve found someone to make that commitment with, and that it means you’ll be part of this family officially.”
And without another word, Quinn walks back to Kurt, kisses him once on the cheek, and leaves.
Kurt blinks at the empty hallway. Then, a smile spreads across his face. Still gripping the heavy book, he turns the handle to Blaine’s room and steps inside to wait for his lover - his future mate - to join him.

Chapter Four