RATING: NC-17 Klaine
WORD COUNT: ~5500
SUMMARY: Reorganization has its hazards. Kurt is mortified. Blaine is...something other than mortified.
DISCLAIMERS: Not mine. I wanted to write this. Then I wasn't going to. Then it wouldn't leave me alone and just kept taunting me, so here it is. Because clearly when I said “I need a few days off from the angstfest-fic to finish another story,” I meant “Let me ignore that other story to write porn all day.” Title from “When I Get You Alone.” Fill for this prompt on glee_kink_meme
Blaine wasn't sure why they always hung out in Lima, even when it was just the two of them, but by the time it had been a few months he'd stopped really wondering. He'd met the parents (Carole adored him, Burt seemed wary but tentatively not interested in hating him), he'd managed to win Finn over thanks to a mutual love of football (even if Finn still wasn't so sure he understood how Blaine could know all that and still be gay, but they were working on that), and he'd even managed to sufficiently charm the regular afternoon shift at the Lima Bean to the point where he sometimes managed to score some free biscotti because they liked him so much.
But the biggest accomplishment of the thrice-weekly Lima hangouts? He had finally gotten to where he felt comfortable in Kurt's room.
The all-white (okay, fine, Dior grey, and he knew that, but that didn't exactl roll off the tongue) basement was not the kind of place that put a person instantly at-ease. Even Blaine, who had been raised in expensive homes with sitting rooms that were never used and imported rugs that cost more than his very nice car, had been immediately struck by the feeling that he would spill something on one of the many white chairs, it would drip onto the white rug, then the white painted floor, and Kurt would refuse to ever speak to him again.
Not seriously – at least, he hoped not. But it had taken awhile for him to feel really comfortable and casual in the space. Kurt had helped; it was hard to see the oddly-shaped chairs as untouchable when Kurt draped so effortlessly across them. Within a month or so – maybe a little more, when they factored in the time off for the two weeks he'd been stuck just north of Cincinnati to sing four shows a day – he knew where to grab pens if Kurt asked him to, he was allowed to touch the product collection (which he assumed was a big deal), and he knew how to pull Kurt's white modular sofa out into the bed for days when the felt like lounging a little.
He liked those days; he just had to be careful not to like them too much. It wasn't really cuddling, Kurt wasn't quite that tactile – even with him – but it was still lying on a bed with a cute boy who had a tendency to let out happy sighs when listening to his favourite song, and sometimes those sighs kind of coincided with shifting in ways that brought their arms to kind of brush together in a way that felt surprisingly intimate considering how many times Blaine had deliberately taken his arm at school.
“I would apologize, but I make it a point never to say 'I'm sorry' for fashion,” Kurt called from his walk-in closet under the stairs.
“Not a problem,” Blaine called back, lying on the bed and idly flipping through the latest issue of Vogue.
“I hadn't tried the sweater in awhile, so I was remembering it as more cool-tone blue than it actually is,” he offered, and Blaine barely restrained himself from laughing at the disappointment he heard in Kurt's voice. “The entire plan was ruined when it didn't work, so I had to start from square one.”
“We're not going anywhere, you really don't have to non-apologize.” He paused to study a photo, leaning in to peer at it more closely. “I swear this same outfit was used a couple months ago.”
“You haven't even seen it yet,” Kurt protested. “And contrary to popular belief, I don't have a policy of never wearing the same thing twice – a couple months would hardly be my record.”
Blaine laughed fondly and replied, “No, silly – in this photo shoot. I swear they used the same one in the Tom Ford spread back in December.”
“You can check if you want, I have it,” Kurt replied easily. “Copies from last year are all in the second drawer.” A month ago Kurt wouldn't have given him instructions, would have instead offered to get them when he was done, but that would've been god-only-knows how long. But he was comfortable now – and Kurt was comfortable with him there – so he simply reached over and pulled open the second drawer with a dull rolling sound.
“Third drawer! Not second – third!” came a sudden shriek from the closet as Kurt rushed into the room with heavy rubber-soled footsteps, but it was too late.
Blaine stared, head cocked, at the small nest of objects he'd discovered. A long, thick plug made of black plastic. Three dildos in varying sizes that made Blaine almost laugh thinking of the kind of Goldilocks quality: one slim and probably of about average length, in a relatively-realistic hue; one on the larger side with a prominent head ridge and balls that looked kind of freakishly all the same peach colour; and one in glittery blue silicone that looked like its size should be captioned “Dear god, are you out of your mind?”
Did Kurt- There was no way he wouldn't walk funny, Blaine would have noticed that. Hell, he felt like he was about to start walking funny just looking at the thing.
He reached out to touch it, to move it, to see if maybe objects in the drawer were smaller than they appeared and his perception was just being fucked with by the fact that he was staring at things that had been inside Kurt. It felt heavy with just his fingers around it, but even just touching it felt...exciting in a strange way, like accidentally finding porn for the first time. To say he was turned-on by it would be inaccurate – he was still stuck somewhere in the neighbourhood of “I think that would kill me,” but there was still a kind of sexual excitement to having it in his hand.
Then he saw the nipple clamps underneath it and barely remembered to keep breathing.
“Oh my god,” Kurt whispered pitifully, and Blaine dropped the dildo; it landed heavily in the drawer with a thud and he winced at how much noise it made. “I reorganized last weekend – Dad and Carole have been looking at houses, so I started out trying to pare down my collections. Once I realized that wasn't possible, I decided at the very least I could make a better system now that everything was out into the center of the room, and I rearranged-...oh god...”
Kurt looked so mortified that the gentleman in Blaine wanted to pretend he'd never seen any of it, excuse himself politely, and never speak of it again. Unfortunately, there was also a teenage boy in there – a very intrigued, decidedly-horny teenage boy who was rendered ineloquent by the array of phallic and kink-related objects he'd discovered.
Even more ineloquent by the thought of who they belonged to.
“It's okay,” he said in the most even voice he could manage, trying to get Kurt to meet his eyes. The boy was staring at various points around the room, all slightly above his natural eye level, all as far as he could get from looking down and at Blaine and at the still-open drawer. “Everyone has one – I do, I know that – it's nothing to be ashamed of.” Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Kurt, honestly. It's not a big deal. Entirely hot.”
Normal. He had meant to say normal there, underscoring his point that everyone was entitled to enjoy private moments, and while some people chose to enjoy them just with their right hands, many – Blaine would even venture most – people had at least a few alternatives lying around, if only because variety could be fun sometimes. He had meant to say that it was especially normal for gay men – like straight women – to have some kind of insertable toys and that it was useful in beginning to explore sexual desires and preferences, and that it was an important developmental milestone if only because it probably wasn't a good idea for a person's first time to also be the first time they'd had anything whatsoever up there.
Unfortunately, in the moment he'd meant to say all of those reasonable, rational, potentially-comforting things – things a gentleman would say...his inner-teenage boy had taken over and now they were both blushing and avoiding eye contact.
“I'm sorry, that was rude, I didn't mean to- Normal, is what I meant to-” Blaine babbled.
“Seriously?” Kurt asked quietly, sounding confused.
“Of course. It's absolutely normal.”
“Not that part.” His voice was halting, eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to work something out in his head. “Hot?”
Blaine swallowed hard. Of course it was hot. But for his intense self-control and the position he was in – on left side, but with his right leg swung over enough to conceal his crotch – he would be showing how hot he thought it was. But they weren't supposed to be in that zone. Friends made jokes at a time like this, or maybe if they were nice they agreed to just never speak of it again. Friends did not start picturing how incredibly sexy their friend would be with something large up his ass while he jerked off.
Well...okay, maybe they did, sometimes, but they definitely didn't admit to it!
He tried to come up with something else to say, to deflect it or weasel out of it or just otherwise try to get rid of the awkwardness. Kurt was staring at him now, impatient, looking like he was waiting desperately for Blaine to say something - anything - and he wanted to brush the whole thing off, but all that came out was a throaty whispered, “Yes.”
Kurt blushed and his posture stiffened; he was uncomfortable, and Blaine wanted to think of something to make him less so, but he wasn't entirely sure what to say to fix it.
“How in the world does that fit?”
Okay, that was not at all what he had wanted to ask., and judging from how wide Kurt's eyes went, it wasn't a question either of them had been expecting to stretch between them like this. He'd taken it from bad to worse, from awkward to downright rude. What the hell was his problem, anyway?
Then Kurt started laughing.
That wasn't quite the reaction he'd been expecting, he had to admit; he had no idea what it meant.
“It doesn't,” he replied with a sheepish grin. His face was still redder than the jacket he was wearing (which was to say, very fucking red) but he looked a little less like he wanted to curl up and die, so that was a plus...right? Blaine thought so. Maybe. “It was the first thing I ever ordered online and I didn't quite understand how large things were.”
“Oh.” He was relieved in a way, just because that seemed horribly unsafe, but at the same time was almost...disappointed. As awkward as the mental image had been, there had still been something so incredibly, undeniably, rawly sexy about the idea of Kurt stretched so wide.
“Yeah,” Kurt smiled faintly. “It might at some point, I mean the other one used to feel unbearable and now it's perfect, but-” His eyes widened as he realized what he'd said, and he swallowed hard.
Blaine shifted uncomfortably as it felt like all the blood in his body suddenly pooled in his groin. What had been stiff before was now rock hard and poking awkwardly into the mattress at the idea of Kurt – ever the dedicated perfectionist – working the large-but-not-ridiculous phallus up into himself slowly, over time, with lots of practice, until it felt good instead of too large. The thought of Kurt panting softly, groaning as that thick head ridge pressed at the second ring, stretching him too much, too much, too much- until it popped past and felt good and let him breathe normally again. The image of Kurt trying to get himself into a position where he could fuck himself on the object while stroking his own cock furiously.
(Literally. Kind of.)
He was never getting that image out of his head, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.
“Are you...?” Kurt asked, regarding him curiously.
Honesty. Honesty was important here. And courage. But mostly not being a lying jerk who would fantasize about Kurt and never tell him – that was creepy, right? That was...awkward and creepy and if he was going to picture his best friend naked and doing unspeakable things to himself, the least he could do was own up to it. Say that, while he didn't want to make Kurt uncomfortable, the images that the conversation – and accompanying props – were creating were a huge turn-on, but that he wasn't going to do anything to make it more awkward.
Well. So much for that. There was such a thing as too much honesty, after all.
Kurt sounded for a moment like he might be choking, then managed, “I don't understand. You say that we're not together, you make it sound like I'm not a person you're in love with or would really consider in the boyfriend category, but then you want to watch me do that? Is this some gay equivalent of a circle-jerk?”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I mean, I would love to, but it's not- I've made you uncomfortable. I should go.” Blaine tried to move off the couch, but Kurt's voice stopped him.
“You want to...?” Kurt asked, not even able to finish the sentence, to find the right verb to describe what Blaine was asking to see – what ridiculous, horribly invasive thing Blaine had requested.
“Kurt, honestly, I'm sorry. I should just-”
“It's just not the kind of thing I get asked every day,” he said slowly, still looking a little confused.
“Please,” Blaine whispered. “Show me what you do. I won't even touch, I just want to...watch.”
Kurt let out a shaky breath, lips parted, eyes unfocused, and Blaine swore it was the hottest he'd ever seen Kurt look. Screw the vaguely-fetishizing uniform (that lost a lot of its appeal when you had to wear it every day), forget the sweaters that made him look like a model or the harness shirt and the shitkicker boots. Standing in his bedroom fully-dressed with a look like he was turned-on but nervous about it was somehow the most amazing thing he could've ever imagined.
Thus far, at least.
Kurt unfastened the toggles of his sweater with trembling hands and let it slip off his shoulders. He draped it carefully over the back of the nearest chair, then drew in a deep breath and with almost a wince unfastened his tight pants and practically peeled them off. If Blaine thought he could see the outline of Kurt's dick before, it was nothing compared to seeing the guy in just tight boxerbriefs and a henley, and he swore he might easily die before Kurt ever picked up a toy.
“You need to move,” Kurt offered awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “It's where I would...the best reach,” he added.
Blaine sat up, bringing his knees up uncomfortably to try to conceal just how hard he was, and the wet spot leaking through the front of his uniform pants. Kurt looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, and Blaine felt a gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach. “If you don't want to-”
Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and licked his lips, then replied, “I do. But I haven't done anything like this before, and I don't look my best sprawled out naked and jerking off, so I don't want you to decide that it's not something you want to see halfway through.”
Oh god. It made complete sense, knowing what he did about Kurt, but somehow the idea of this guy, this absolutely breathtakingly beautiful guy, feeling ashamed at being naked in front of him...awkward he could understand, and nervous, but ashamed and unpretty?
He broke his promise not to touch and reached out to take Kurt's wrist, gently drawing Kurt's hand down to his tenting pants. Kurt's eyes widened and he ran his palm experimentally over the area. “Ohh Kurt,” Blaine groaned softly. “Like I said – I don't think that'll be a problem.”
Kurt drew in a deep breath and nodded, but he seemed less nervous. Less exposed, at any rate, even as he removed his shirt and crawled onto the bed, clad only in tenting briefs that looked dark and almost rough against the broad expanses of pale, smooth skin Blaine found fascinating. “Should I...?” Kurt started to ask hesitantly, like the second half of his question got lost in his throat somewhere.
“Whatever you would usually do,” Blaine assured him. He thought a moment, then removed his jacket and tie; his shoes had been removed as soon as he set foot in the basement. After contemplating it for all of ten seconds, he unfastened his pants. When he saw the encouraged look on Kurt's face, he decided to remove them entirely before resuming his place at the foot of Kurt's bed, now clad only in his underwear and his shirt. “Don't worry about putting on a show, I just...I want to see how you do it.”
Kurt nodded slowly and began to palm himself through his briefs. “All of this is assuming I have time,” he stated for the record. “Finn isn't great about knocking, so if he's home it's a lot faster, but assuming I have time, that I can do what I really want.”
“Yes,” Blaine whispered, his voice dropping practically by the second as he watched Kurt's hand move slowly over the fabric. He was already hard, leaking, but still taking it slow? Blaine had known the guy had self-control but this was almost ridiculous.
He felt an additional surge in his dick as he thought about what that would mean – long, drawn-out foreplay that left both of them agonizingly hard and leaking and rubbing against each other? Begging for oh please god Kurt's mouth on him now or couldn't he please stroke Kurt's cock because he fucking needed to see him come. The images made him whimper, and Kurt's head jerked in his direction.
“Even if you're not touching me doesn't mean you can't touch,” he pointed out with far more composure than Blaine could fathom at the moment. Not that he needed Kurt's permission, and at a certain point it would be inevitable that his hand would work its way downward, but if he touched even a little right now he'd be gone and he needed to see a lot more first.
Kurt's hand moved down under his waistband and he sighed happily as he felt the first skin-on-skin contact. A few gentle squeezes and he withdrew his hand, then shimmied awkwardly out of his underwear. Blaine just stared at the nervous ball of perfection laid out before him – at the gently sloping muscles of Kurt's biceps, his sturdy forearms, his surprisingly muscular legs. The torso alone warranted its own day of worship – lithe and pale, with small, taut nipples in a shade that he was sure had a particular name but he could only think of as 'darkish and beautiful.' To say nothing of the wiry light brown hair forming a path from Kurt's navel despite there being almost no other hair to speak of. Let alone the dick – dark and red and veiny and perfect in a way that had Blaine wanting to dive across the bed to suck it immediately.
He restrained himself only just barely, held in check only by the knowledge that, if he did that? He wouldn't get to see what he desperately wanted to. If he got Kurt off (and dear god, he hoped the day he'd get to do that was soon), he wouldn't be able to watch what Kurt did when he was alone and that thought was – for now, and just barely – enough to keep him from tying Kurt to the couch-bed's armrest with his uniform tie and ravishing him for hours.
Kurt bit his lip in what could either be a coy or vaguely terrified expression and mumbled something about did Blaine like what he saw?
...He was totally playing this, Blaine decided. He knew exactly what he was doing because any idiot could see how much he enjoyed what he saw. Oh dear god.
He rolled partway onto his side to reach into the still-open drawer. With a contemplative expression, Kurt sifted through until he had retrieved the lube, the medium-sized dildo, the clamps and - oh holy fuck, how had Blaine missed that there was a cock ring in there, too? Maybe he'd stopped before he got to that part of the drawer. Kurt held it out towards him, a playful expression on his lips as he said, “Need it?”
Blaine swallowed hard. It would help the immediate problem, at least, and there was something that made the already-intimate sexiness feel almost raunchy in the best possible way. He started to ask if Kurt was sure, but from the grin on his friend's face it was pretty obviously an offer that would carry with it no actual judgment. He extended his hand, palm up, and Kurt placed it there with a fond look.
The problem, he realized as he sat back against the foot end of the bed, preparing to watch, was that he didn't want to tear his eyes away from Kurt long enough to get the ring on.
“I'll wait,” Kurt stated in a low voice that Blaine didn't even think the guy would be capable of and oh holy fuck did he get harder? Blaine reached into his underwear, glad that the ring was the kind with snaps so he could get it on and off more easily, and fastened the item around his aching cock that was already dribbling a near-constant stream of precum. But at least now he could touch without worrying about exploding.
As he sat back with a sigh and pulled his hands out of his pants, Kurt settled back against the headboard. He poured lube over his hands, letting it dribble through his fingers and onto his torso; it surprised Blaine, he had expected that Kurt would be the type to be all OCD about where lube went or landed because it could stain. Or possibly Kurt really was putting on a show for him. Either way, he wasn't complaining, watching the clear drops land on smooth skin as Kurt reached down with a firm grip and began to slowly pump his dick. He moaned softly, almost lazily, as the fingers of his left hand moved to swipe at the lube on his torso. As he bent his legs up, Blaine found himself staring at-
He didn't know why he felt such a shiver of excitement rush through him when he saw Kurt's ass. Where else did he think the large phallus was going? What else had he been imagining but this? But something about actually seeing it was another matter entirely. He reached down and began to rub himself, grateful beyond words for the ring – especially when Kurt's lube-splotched fingers skimmed down along the crack until they expertly found their target by feel. The groan he let out as his first two fingers slipped in without any hint of difficulty...Kurt really did practice, didn't he? Blaine thought with a ragged breath as he watched, eyes practically glued to the pale globes of Kurt's behind. A third finger followed, then a fourth – looking difficult only due to the angle, not the girth, and suddenly Blaine was wondering if it was possible for a person to somehow fist his own ass because from the enthusiastic moaning Kurt was doing, it certainly seemed like if anyone was going to be able to do it, Kurt would be the one to try.
And he would be more than happy to watch that any day of the week.
Kurt withdrew his fingers, flexing and stretching them slightly, then removed his right hand from his cock and reached for the dildo on top of the nightstand. Blaine's breath caught as he watched Kurt slowly – almost tenderly – stroking lube from the hand that had just been on his, y'know, actual live dick onto the plastic one. He picked up the bottle and squeezed a little more on, and Blaine watched as the oily substance drizzled slowly down the head before Kurt smoothed it on the entire shaft with long, pumping strokes.
He wasn't sure when his hand started mirroring Kurt's motions, but god did it feel good.
He also wasn't sure how he had managed not to realize just how large even this mid-sized dildo was. Maybe because it had been next to the gigantic one that no one should be able to use, such that it looked so reasonable by comparison that it didn't seem that big. But as he watched Kurt's hand – a hand that wasn't exactly tiny – gripping the plastic and saw how small Kurt's dick – also not exactly tiny – seemed next to it...wow.
There were some inadequacy issues, but he could worry about those later. Like, when or if they ever got to having sex with each other instead of watching each other jerk off. He wouldn't have complained about either of those options.
Kurt drew in a quivery breath as he hitched his legs up a little higher and held the toy between his legs. Swallowing hard and looking nervous, he met Blaine's gaze and held it. The simple act was intimate to the point of being nearly overwhelming. They were positioned across from each other, but somehow it felt- Blaine knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it was kind of stupid, but it felt like he was the one making Kurt look like this, so mussed and breathing hard and flushed. Like he was positioned at Kurt's entrance and ready to enter.
Maybe, if he didn't screw this up, maybe one day...he would be. Maybe one day Kurt would let him. That would be amazing – to get to not only watch him look so sexy but to be the one to cause it, to be the reason Kurt was turned-on and moaning.
Kurt began to slowly but evenly press the dildo inside, his hand sure of the angle, the position, exactly when to pause and which way to shift. He gasped, then hissed softly, then moaned in a way that Blaine tried desperately to commit to memory because that sound alone could fuel a thousand fantasies – so high and pleased and wanting. His eyes fluttered closed, and with the eye contact broken, Blaine glanced downwards, watching as the large toy slowly, inch by inch, filled Kurt's perfect ass. By the time it was in all the way, rubber balls pressing against Kurt's skin, Blaine was sure his eyes were the size of dinner plates.
Then Kurt started moving and he almost lost his mind.
He was kind of surprised to see that Kurt wasn't really sliding the toy in and out, opting instead to kind of thrust his hips up against the object filling him. Each time he bucked, this little noise that was half gasp and half grunt escaped his lips, hand sliding slickly over his cock in doubletime to the movement of his hips. His hair flopped messily across his forehead as his face got redder, neck straining back against the pillow. Occasionally his pink tongue darted out to lick his lips when they got dried from panting, and all Blaine could think of was whether Kurt ever practiced other acts with the toys.
Blaine stroked his own painful erection furiously; he started by trying to keep up with the movement of Kurt's hand, but that was impossible – who knew the boy's fingers could fly so fast? - so he settled for keeping with the movement of Kurt's pelvis. That was almost better, the way it was punctuated by the hot “uh uh ohh” noises.
Kurt's face grew redder and redder as his movements quickened, got sloppier; the noises bubbling from his throat started sounding more desperate and more closely resembling whimpers. For a moment Blaine was legitimately afraid that Kurt's head was going to explode – no one should be turning that red, he was almost violet. Was he even remembering to inhale? With a sudden gasp, then a long throaty moan, Blaine watched as rope after rope of cum spilled over Kurt's chest, some almost reaching his chin.
That was it. Oh god, he was almost gone already, but that... he fumbled with his left hand to unsnap the ring, sighing and groaning in relief as he came a few quick strokes later, soiling his underwear. They would be sticky for awhile; he didn't care. It had been more than worth it.
He slumped against the back of the couch, watching as Kurt's breathing returned to normal more quickly than his own did. He was relieved to see that the near-purple blush on Kurt's cheeks was faded to a more normal flushed shade. After a moment, Kurt reached down to slide the toy out of himself very slowly and carefully; it popped out with a lewd-sounding noise thanks to the lubricant, and Kurt sighed softly at the empty feeling before setting it aside to be washed and sterilized once he could move again.
So now what?
“You know,” Kurt said lazily, eyes heavy-lidded and looking like they might be on the verge of trying to force themselves closed.
“Yeah?” Blaine asked, not bothering to lift his head from the back of the couch.
“I seem to recall you saying something earlier about a drawer of your own.”
Blaine's head jerked up. Kurt remembered that? It was true, of course – he did have his own, like he suspected everyone did, and it was stocked with a not-so-bizarre assortment of items, many of which required batteries; but he hadn't quite expected the question. “Yes,” he replied slowly. “Yeah, I have one.”
“I think I'd like to see it,” Kurt stated with a glint in his eye. “Now.”
Blaine almost choked at the look, at the idea of Kurt watching him like he'd just watched Kurt- Oh god. “It's kind of like an hour away,” he pointed out. “More than, actually.”
“I don't mind.” The voice was back – the low, dark voice that seemed impossible coming from someone who sounded so high and bright the rest of the time. The voice that, Blaine swore, could make the damn alphabet sound pervy.
“Yes,” Kurt replied with a kind of sexually-assertive certainty that Blaine was determined to find more of.
“So you want to go there now?” Blaine surmised. When Kurt gave him a 'have you even been listening?' look, he laughed softly. “Okay.”
Then an idea occurred to him. A slightly evil idea...but one that was too fucking hot to just let go.
Pushing himself up off the bed, he walked the approximately four feet over to where the nightstand was, drawer still open. By feel alone he located and retrieved the plug he had seen first, and Kurt's eyes widened. “May I?” he asked.
“Why?” Kurt's voice was nervous but still sexual, like he wanted to but wasn't sure he trusted what was going to happen. It was reasonable enough, Blaine thought, considering this had kind of just happened and they had only known each other a few months and Kurt was even less experienced than he was which was saying quite a bit.
Blaine leaned in to admit quietly, right next to Kurt's ear, “When I'm using the toys, I'm thinking of you – for a few hours before, almost always, definitely for the whole drive home. So to be authentic...I want to spend the entire drive thinking about you with this inside.” Kurt's eyes widened to the point of almost bugging out of his head, but he nodded quickly – almost frantically, as if to say 'oh god please' without having to speak a word.
Honesty was finally getting him somewhere.