A/N: I am going to add notes for this as the chapters go up and the story unfolds. But for this first chapter, just know that there's a twist to what's going on here, and thus, a mention of blood. It's not gory, just, there it is. Proceed with caution. I will not take responsibility for someone being triggered because they felt unprepared. This is a re-write.

"Kurt …"

Kurt hears the eerie hiss of Blaine's voice through the closed window of his bedroom. It's harsh and raspy, like the blood-chilling sigh of a cobra as it spreads its hood and mesmerizes its prey. Kurt lies completely still, the way he would if he were being pursued by a snake, in the hopes that Blaine will think he's asleep and go away.

It doesn't work.

It never does.

"Ku-urt … open the window, Kurt …"

Kurt turns towards the window, seething in frustration. He can see only Blaine's eyes peering at him in the dark, the rest of his face shrouded by the shadows the branches make on the tree he's crouching inside of.

"Go away, Blaine," Kurt groans.

"I can't." Blaine presses his hands and face against the glass of Kurt's locked window. "I want it, Kurt. I need it."

"Blaine" – Kurt's heavy eyelids fight to stay open long enough to get rid of his obnoxious visitor - "there are hundreds of men in the state of Ohio who can give it to you."

"But I want you," Blaine insists. "You're the best."

"Be that as it may, you're not getting any." Kurt flips over dramatically, facing his back to Blaine in an attempt to hide his triumphant grin. His chest swells with a bizarre feeling of pride.

The best.

What a tacky thing to be proud of, but he'll take what he can get.

"Oh, don't be such a prude," Blaine grumbles. "You know you love it, too."

Kurt tosses defiantly back and sits upright to fully face the boy hovering outside his window.

"What a morbid thing to say! I certainly do not."

"Don't give me that. I know you, Kurt. In some ways, I know you better than you know yourself. I've tasted you …"

Blaine smirks as Kurt turns red, his whole face burning like a torch in less than a second. He retreats to the safety of his comforter, wrapping it tight around his shoulders, but an inch or two of fabric does little to help. He's still trapped by Blaine's hypnotic stare.

"I know it turns you on. I hear the way you whimper …" Blaine traces down the pane of glass with a single finger. "I see the way you bite your lip, trying so desperately not to moan …"

Kurt's eyes track Blaine's fingertip as it outlines the edge of the glass. It stops on the ledge where the lock to Kurt's window is fastened shut, tapping right above it as if he is simply waiting out the inevitable.

And for the feeling of Blaine's fingers on his flesh again, it's almost worth Kurt breaking his solemn promise to himself and letting the bastard in.

Blaine isn't wrong. Ever since the first time Blaine convinced Kurt to do it, Kurt realized he's kind of a masochist as far as Blaine is concerned. Even now, as he tries so hard to resist, he can feel his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest, longing to give in, to give Blaine what he wants. Regardless of his heart's begging to let Blaine have him, or his body that's begun to react without his consent, Kurt isn't just about to lay himself bare for Blaine

He doesn't like to make it too easy.

"My answer is no, Blaine," Kurt declares, snuggling down into his bed and closing his eyes.

"Fine." Blaine growls, feral and threatening, all pretense of slow, sophisticated seduction gone. That growl used to strike fear in Kurt's heart, make his blood run cold. Now it makes him hot. "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, if you don't open this window right now and let me in, I'm going to start singing Spice Girls songs at the top of my lungs all night long!"

Exhausted or not, that definitely gets Kurt's attention. He pops up in bed and meets Blaine's burning glare with an icy stare of his own.

"You … wouldn't … dare," Kurt challenges, determined to stand his ground, but the second Blaine opens his mouth to start singing, Kurt stumbles out of bed and runs to his window. He undoes the lock and pushes open the window before a single word of 'Wannabe' leaves Blaine's lips.

"Won't you please come in?" Kurt snaps, not even trying to hide his irritation. Blaine slinks through, grinning from ear to ear. He closes and locks the window behind him, following Kurt as he trudges back to bed. Kurt trundles beneath the comforter and rolls himself up, leaving an arm sticking out.

"Get on with it," Kurt says. "I have a calc test in the morning and I want to at least get an hour of sleep."

Blaine looks down at Kurt, wrapped in his blankets like a human burrito, and frowns.

"As adorable as this is" - Blaine moves to the other side of the bed and climbs beside the bundled body of Kurt Hummel - "I would really like to hold you."

Kurt peeks out from a gap in his burrow and rolls his eyes.

"Fine." He pulls apart his carefully wrapped cocoon to let Blaine crawl inside. Blaine winds his arms around Kurt, trying his best not to hold him too tight. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt him. He takes Kurt's arm and raises his wrist to his mouth. He kisses the soft skin, pressing his lips against it to feel the pulse thrumming there, calling to him.

"Do you miss it?" Kurt murmurs, enjoying the coolness of Blaine's lips against his skin.

"What?" Blaine asks taking a deep breath of Kurt's scent – vanilla and honey, sweet and floral.

Flesh and blood, delicate and mortal.

"Being alive?" Kurt looks at Blaine's pale face and his hard, red eyes; eyes that were once such a beautiful shade of hazel, they were nearly gold.

Blaine smirks again. It's the only expression of happiness he has. He can't seem to smile anymore, nothing other than that sinister grin. He runs his lips along the inside of Kurt's forearm, tracing the paths of his veins with a gentle lick of his tongue.

"Not as long as I have you to remind me," Blaine whispers. Kurt closes his eyes as Blaine prepares, starting with open mouth kisses along his skin.

Kurt relaxes into Blaine's side and allows sleep to coax him back into its embrace.

He doesn't watch. He has long since stopped being fascinated by this part.

The bite is quick; a smooth slip of Blaine's razor sharp fangs into Kurt's skin, and suddenly his mouth is filled with Kurt's unique taste, his mind reeling with images of warm summer walks they shared together; skinny dipping in the lake; late afternoon lunches of Kurt's famous cucumber sandwiches; and making love at sunset, brazenly beneath the tall willows that grew just shy of the water. By biting Kurt, by feeding off him, Blaine can remember exactly how Kurt's skin felt with mortal fingers, the warmth of his body pressed against him, the way they fit perfectly, like two pieces in a puzzle that was once the picture of a glorious future together.

One stupid fight and a vengeful, drunken tryst ended it all when the vampire who seduced Blaine turned him into the cold, dead thing sucking the blood from his one true love's arm.

Blaine breaks away, tracks of bloody tears staining his cheeks, and with a swipe of his tongue, closes the wound. He looks down at Kurt, eyes shut, his face peaceful in sleep beneath the silver light from the moon outside. It's been a little over a year, yet it feels like only yesterday, but Blaine knows that a time will come when days and nights and months and years will have no meaning for him at all. One moonlit evening, he'll be here, and Kurt will be vibrant and alive, and in the blink of an eye, seventy years will pass, and Kurt will be gone.

Blaine only hopes that, when that day comes, he'll be able to find the courage to walk out into the sunlight.

He pulls in closer to Kurt's sleeping body, rests his head where he can hear the rhythmic beating of his heart, and as he has on so many other nights, he lies awake with Kurt in his arms, dreading the oncoming dawn.