Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1852873.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel
  Character:
      Blaine_Anderson, Kurt_Hummel, June_Dalloway, Maggie_Banks, Rachel_Berry
  Additional Tags:
      Teacher/Student, GKM_Fill, Fingering, Oral, Anal, innocence!kink,
      Voyeurism, Masturbation, Age_Difference
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-27 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 20089
****** Tell, Teach, Involve ******
by lurkdusoleil
Summary
     Blaine is a young prince who has been sheltered his whole life. He
     knows nothing about his body or sex. But when it cannot be ignored
     any longer, a tutor is brought in to teach him the ways of pleasure.
     (GKM_fill)
***** Chapter 1 *****
“It will happen soon.”
“It should have happened already…”
“You can hardly blame the boy for his delay. You know how the royals are in
Dayan...”
“Yes, yes. And see how it has worked for them. They’ve left us with this...this
boy...”
“Oh, that’s hardly the reason. But at least, boys can be persuaded.”
--
Skin. And--and sweat. Contact, pressure. It feels--gods, it feels--incredible--
Blaine wakes, hips arching, and it’s happened again.
Blaine groans and rolls out of his bed, stripping his soiled clothes quickly
before checking the bed. He’s lucky--he’s only stained his clothing this time.
It’s easier to clean himself, easier to hide. He’s--gods, he’s ashamed. It’s
disgusting, and it has to be unnatural, he’s never learned anything of this. If
it doesn’t stop--
“Your Majesty?” Knock knock knock.
Crreeaaaaaak--
Blaine pulls the sheet from the bed, and only now does he see that he did
indeed stain the sheet--
“Your--oh, my.”
“How--how dare you,” Blaine says, as firmly as he can. His voice still cracks,
gods be damned. “I did not...grant you leave to enter--”
“Your Majesty,” says Sam, his servant and closest friend. “You didn’t tell me
you’d--started your seed.”
“My what?”
Sam blushes. “I--I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I--I should fetch the Countess--”
“Sam, please!”
Sam pauses in the doorway. “Your Majesty--Blaine--”
“Just tell me,” Blaine pleads, “what’s happening to me? Am I--am I sick?”
Sam grimaces. “No, Your Majesty. You’re not sick. This is--perfectly normal.
But Countess Dalloway will want to explain matters. She is your guardian, it’s
her duty.” He shifts uncomfortably. “She’d have me whipped for telling you,” he
admits.
“Why?”
“Look, it’s--you’re a Prince,” Sam says. “It’s the rules. Do you need my help
dressing?”
Blaine shakes his head. “Just--Sam, please--”
“I’m sorry, Blaine.”
And then he’s gone, and Blaine is left to dress, and wait.
--
“Blaine, my love,” Countess Dalloway says, reaching her wrinkled hand to him,
shaking it for him to take. “Come to me, child.”
Blaine obeys, taking her hand and brushing his lips against the back of it. She
smiles approvingly, squeezing his hand in return.
“Good morning, Countess,” Blaine says, standing as tall her can before her. She
likes him to have good posture. “Sam said you wished to speak with me.”
“I don’t, actually,” she says, plucking a grape from the bowl at her elbow. “I
have several appointments this morning that I cannot delay my presence to. But
I need you to listen, for one moment. Can you do that, child?”
“Yes, my lady,” Blaine says, watching as she pops the grape in her mouth and
chews it.
“Good.” She swallows. “I am appointing you a new tutor.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“So polite,” she says with a smile. “You’re such a good boy, Blaine. So you’ll
be polite to your new tutor, and do all he says?”
“Yes, my lady, of course.”
“I mean it, Blaine. He is a professional, he knows what he’s doing,” she says.
“I made well sure of that.”
She smiles strangely as she says it, but Blaine knows better than to question
her. She’s not afraid to order him lashed for cheekiness. “Yes, my lady. I’ll
do exactly as he instructs.”
“Good,” she says. “Now, help an old lady from her seat. I’ve got to arrive at
my first audience soon, and I am never late.”
“No, my lady, you are always on time,” Blaine says, smiling, and Countess
Dalloway smiles back and pats his cheek.
“Were I younger, I would tutor you myself, my boy,” she says, smirking. “Alas,
this man is renowned.”
“And I’m not allowed female tutors,” Blaine reminds her gently. “So that I am
not distracted from my studies.”
“That’s right, dear boy,” she says. “Now. Go to your lessons, as usual. Your
tutor will be joining us for supper tonight, and then you’ll have your first
lesson. I’m afraid I’ve promised myself to the Earl of Emline tonight, so I
won’t be attending. Mind yourself, be a good host, and remember that you
promised to obey him.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good boy.”
--
His lessons are tinged with anticipation. What else is he to learn? How is it
related to the strange things his body has been doing at night? Is the tutor
going to teach him to control it? Will he at least tell Blaine what it is in
the first place?
When he arrives to supper, there’s a man already seated at the table, to the
left of Blaine, across from where Countess Dalloway usually sits. He stands
when Blaine enters, and offers a short bow.
“Your Majesty,” he says, voice high and clear. It echoes rather prettily in the
large dining hall. “My name is Kurt Hummel. I believe you were expecting me.”
“Yes, yes,” Blaine says, standing before the man, snapping to attention like he
was taught before bowing his head respectfully. “The Countess Dalloway told me
to expect you. It’s my pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Kurt smiles, and there’s something off about it. His smile is tilted to one
side, and his eyes twinkle like something is funny. “I’m sure.”
Blaine blinks, but doesn’t comment. He’s to be polite and gracious, not
question his guest’s behavior, especially one who will be tutoring him. That
grants him special authority and respect.
“Please, be seated,” Blaine says. “Sam, would you--”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Blaine sits with Kurt, and Sam hurries off to the kitchens to call for their
supper. Blaine smiles over at Kurt. He’s a handsome man, pleasantly featured.
He’s pale and fine-boned, and his hair is swept stylishly. Even his clothes are
at the height of style, perhaps even finer than Blaine’s own. His face seems
permanently amused, somehow, but Blaine doesn’t know that many people--perhaps
Master Hummel is just joyously predisposed.
“I thank you for coming to teach me,” Blaine says. “I admit, I’m not sure
exactly what you’ll be teaching me. Might I inquire…?”
“Oh, surely,” Kurt says. “But I’m afraid practical demonstration is the easiest
way, and it’s best to leave our studies away from the dinner table. At least
for now.”
“Yes, of course,” Blaine says immediately, flushing as the soup is brought to
them. “My apologies, Master Hummel. I am so very rude.”
“Oh, not at all,” Kurt replies, apparently surprised. “Your curiosity is
natural, and will serve us well. But I think we should enjoy our suppers, don’t
you?”
“Yes, of course,” Blaine says. He takes a mouthful of soup. “Perhaps you could
tell me about yourself, Master Hummel? I admit to curiosity.”
“Mmm, that’s very good,” Kurt says, smiling, his eyes lowered. “Yes, I’m sure I
can tell you something. Let’s see.”
He ponders, eating his soup slowly, licking his lips after his first swallow.
Blaine watches his tongue--it goes...so slowly…
“I come from a small town to the north,” Kurt says, smirking again. “I came to
the capital when I was about your age, and found employment here. I rose to
Mastery of my trade, so I’ve been hired as your tutor. And what about you?
Young Prince that you are, your life must be fascinating.”
“It is indeed fascinating,” Blaine agrees. “I have several tutors from around
the world who’ve taught me all about it.”
“Have you seen any of it?”
Blaine pauses. “Well, I’m afraid not, no. But--princes are expected to study,
to learn. I’m sure when I’m older, I’ll be allowed to travel with a suitable
entourage, to further my knowledge of my kingdom.”
“Why not now?” Kurt asks. “Who is keeping you here?”
“The Countess Dalloway is my guardian,” Blaine says, uncertain of the propriety
of this conversation, awkward as the soup is replaced with his main course.
“She ensures that I am learning, and well cared for until my majority. She’s
kept me safe here in the capital since the King and Queen perished at sea four
years ago. She’ll keep me safe for another three years, at which time I’ll be
told enough to rule. She’ll let me see the world when it’s time, I’m sure.”
“Hmm,” Kurt says. But he says nothing more, only eats in silence, which Blaine
copies, unsure of what else to say.
He only hopes this doesn’t reflect badly on him. But he can’t tell what to make
of Master Hummel.
--
When supper is cleared away, Blaine stands and waits for Master Hummel to
direct him.
“We’ll be going to your rooms now, Blaine,” Kurt says. “We’ll be taking your
lessons there indefinitely.”
Blaine finds this unusual, but he can’t say anything. Besides, it might be nice
to learn in his own comfortable space, rather than in one of the studies. The
chairs there are uncomfortable, meant to keep him awake and focused, but
sometimes they just distract him. These lessons might be better for
being...more relaxed.
“Yes, sir,” Blaine says. “If you’ll follow me. Sam, could you have some fresh
iced lemon water brought to my rooms, should Master Hummel wish for some during
our lessons?”
“Bring several clean towels and fresh linens as well,” Kurt instructs him. “And
your prince will be needing a bath when we’re finished.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I have the servants prepare one for you as well?”
“Yes, when our lesson is completed,” Kurt says, obviously pleased. “And you
already have your instructions regarding disturbing us.”
“Everything will be quickly left and the door closed behind me,” Sam says, and
then scurries away.
“Master Hummel--”
“You’ll be told what’s happening when we get to your rooms, Blaine,” Kurt says
firmly. Blaine flushes and nods.
“Yes, Master Hummel.”
Blaine guides Kurt to his rooms, allowing his tutor to go through first and
inspect the first room, a sitting room with several comfortable couches and
chairs around a deep fireplace. Blaine gravitates toward his private breakfast
table, but Kurt just nods to the doorway opposite.
“Your bed is through here?” he says, and walks through on his own.
Blaine follows uncertainly. “Um--yes, Master Hummel--”
The door behind him opens, and Sam comes in with a tray and several towels and
linens in a pile over one arm. He sets down the tray with the water and the
pile next to it, and then leaves the room quickly, without a word.
“Blaine, I’m waiting.” Blaine hurries into his bedroom, and finds Master Hummel
standing beside his bed. “Come have a seat.”
Blaine obeys. He promised he would, despite his misgivings and confusion. He
looks up at Master Hummel from his seat, but Kurt just pushes at Blaine’s
shoulder gently, pressing him to lie down.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Lie back. Good boy. Now. What’s been happening in your
sleep, Blaine?”
--
***** Chapter 2 *****
Blaine almost panics, but Kurt just smiles at him and sits next to him on the
bed.
“It’s okay,” Kurt says soothingly. He smooths his hands over Blaine’s
shoulders, fingers pressing in gently. “Relax, and answer the question. There
is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’ve been--um--hardening,” Blaine says. His cheeks are on fire, and he can’t
tell exactly why, but every time he thinks about this he blushes. “Between my
legs. And I’ve been spilling…seed, Sam said.”
“Mmmm.” Kurt stands, and begins pulling the cord at the throat of his tunic.
“And have you been dreaming?”
“Yes.”
“What of?”
His shirt comes off, and Blaine feels it happening. He’s hardening in his pants
again, and gods did it have to happen right now, it’s so embarrassing and
strange--it can’t be normal, no matter what anyone says, it’s never happened to
him before.
“I asked you a question, Blaine.” His hands go to his breeches, and the laces
there loosen as well. And--Kurt has long, pale fingers, they’re rather pretty…
“I--yes,” Blaine says, flickering his eyes back up to Kurt’s. “I don’t know
what they mean, though.”
“What are they?”
“I’m not sure,” Blaine says. “They’re just feelings.”
“Mmm.” Kurt drops his breeches, sits down again, naked, and pushes them off
with his boots. He’s left completely bare, sitting next to Blaine, looking up
and down his body. His eyes linger on the clear bulge at Blaine’s crotch.
“I’m here to teach you what this all means,” Kurt says. He reaches over to
Blaine and begins removing his clothing as well. “Show you what those feelings
are. Blaine, do you know what sex is?”
“Isn’t it a form of reproduction?”
Kurt smiles. “I imagine no one told you the logistics of that reproduction.”
“No.”
“Well, it’s not just reproduction,” Kurt says. “Sex feels good for our bodies,
Blaine, and sometimes our minds, too. And it doesn’t have to be between those
looking to reproduce. It can be between any two people who want it together,
sometimes even more than two people. And it’s done to find pleasure, to
connect, to find release. There are many reasons for sex.”
“Why did no one tell me?” Blaine asks. Kurt has bared his chest and opened his
breeches, and as soon as Blaine asks, Kurt pulls his penis from his clothing,
and lets it rest, hard and long, on his belly.
“Because sex can be distracting,” Kurt says. “And some people do think it
should be only for reproduction, despite how good it feels. They think it’s
morally wrong.”
“But why?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand myself,” Kurt says, smiling down at Blaine. His
own penis is hardened as well, and he reaches down and strokes it. “We can
discuss it more in time. For now--I’m going to teach you why your body hardens
and what to do when it does.”
Blaine nods, nervous and sweating. His groin feels tight, and there’s a strange
tingling sensation in his penis that vaguely worries him, but he’s mesmerized
by Kurt touching himself like that. Should he--
“When your cock hardens, Blaine, that means your body is ready and capable of
sex,” Kurt says. “It doesn’t mean you should, because there is a time and place
for everything, sex included. But when you are alone, and in private, and your
body tells you it’s ready, you can touch yourself to bring yourself to
completion. To spill your seed, and relieve the tension.”
“And--you’re doing it right now?”
Kurt leans back on his free hand and reveals his body more. He’s long and pale
where Blaine is short and darker, quite hard and lean where Blaine is still a
touch pudgy, despite his muscles developing more as he learns swordplay. He’s--
very appealing to look at in a way Blaine doesn’t quite understand, and
Blaine’s groin tightens more to look at him.
“What--what is it when I--when I feel things--”
“When you feel...pleasure, down there?”
“No,” Blaine says, trying to find the words. He listens to his body, like his
swordmaster has told him to do with his blade, and he feels--he wants touch.
“When I feel like I want pleasure? When I want touch?”
Kurt smiles, and rocks his hips up, groaning. “That’s called arousal. Or
attraction, if it’s because of a person.” His smile goes dark. “Are you
attracted to me, Blaine?”
Blaine’s heart hammers. “Yes.”
“That’s good,” Kurt says, head thrown back, baring his long, white neck, just
shining with a faint beading of sweat. “It will help our lessons as we
progress. I won’t just be teaching you to touch yourself, after all. Would you
like me teaching you how to touch another, how to be touched?”
Blaine finally reaches down and grasps himself like Kurt is, fingers wrapping
around his--his cock, Kurt had said. Maybe it has a different name during sex.
It certainly feels different, and the strange tingling heightens as he holds
himself tight and starts moving his hands, circling his wrist. His hips strain
up automatically, instinctively, and Blaine’s breath comes hard and short.
“That’s right,” Kurt says. “Touch yourself. Let yourself feel the pleasure.
Don’t fight it.”
“And I’ll--” Gods, it’s hard to breathe, Blaine feels like his whole body is
tightening and the tension is gathering in his cock-- “I’ll spill my seed? When
I--when I’m completed?”
“Yes,” Kurt says. It comes out in a whine. “Just--just keep going, keep
watching me, keep--keep going--squeeze tighter, move faster--do what feels
good--”
Blaine does as he’s told, and cries out. It feels--so good, too good, he’s
going to--he’s going to--
“Please, Master Hummel,” Blaine says. “Can I--is there any way--”
“Use your other hand,” Kurt says. “Touch your body. Your nipples. Your balls.
Lower, if you want. Touch yourself.”
Blaine does, starting at his nipples, and at the brush of a finger over one
stiffened peak, the pleasure gathers in his groin and explodes. Blaine cries
out again, body tensing in jerking, involuntary spasms, and his seed spills
out, all over his belly.
Kurt keens high, and his hips pump up, and his seed spills as well, dribbling
over his hand. As Blaine lies still, panting and tired like he spent a day out
in the practice ring, he smiles, lifts his hand, and licks some off.
“Should I do that?” Blaine asks, looking down at his messy stomach.
“You don’t have to,” Kurt says. “Some people like it. They find it arousing. Do
you?”
“I’m--not sure.”
Kurt smiles kindly. “That’s okay. You’ll learn what you like as you explore, as
we continue our lessons. Did you enjoy your first lesson?”
“Yes,” Blaine says, suddenly shy. He wants to hide his face from Master Hummel-
-he feels vulnerable, and close to tears. “Yes, I did, I--”
“Sshhh, it’s okay, sweet boy,” Kurt says, reaching over with his unsoiled hand
to stroke up and down Blaine’s chest. “Sometimes it can be overwhelming. It
makes us feel things, it changes us. And that’s okay. As long as you treat it
like it matters to you, and like whoever you’re with matters, even if it’s just
yourself--you’ll be okay.”
“Why does it change things?”
“It’s a way to connect to people,” Kurt says. “When we’re emotional, the
connection is stronger. At least, it can be. Some don’t develop emotional
connections. You and I, we’ll be careful to keep ours between us as student and
teacher. But sex is, for many people, just between lovers. Romantic partners.
When you’re with someone, married or promised, you only have sex with them,
according to the law.”
“There are laws?”
Kurt laughs. “Yes. Are you feeling any better, sweet boy?”
Blaine sighs. “I--yes? I still feel--so much--”
“It’s time for your bath, then,” Kurt says. “It’s important to care for
yourself if you’re feeling emotional. You won’t, every time. It will become
habit, to masturbate.”
“Masturbate?”
“That’s what you just did,” Kurt says. “It’s when you have sex all by
yourself.”
“But--you were there. Was that sex with you?”
“Some might think so,” Kurt says. “But I am simply here to teach you. You
masturbated--I did as well. Some people do that at the same time as a form of
sex, but for us it was just a lesson. Do you understand?”
“I--I think so.”
“Good boy,” Kurt says. “Now, let’s get you into your bath. I believe you have a
room for this all to yourself?”
“Through there,” Blaine says, pointing to a door opposite the bed. “My privy
and bath are through there.”
“Then let’s get you settled, and I shall retire to my own quarters to do the
same. And that’s the end of our lesson, all right?”
Kurt helps Blaine stand. He feels filthy, like he has every night he’s spilled
in his sleep, but so much more drained as well. He’s grateful for Kurt’s arm
around his arm, his hand around Blaine’s wrist, all the way to the bathroom.
“Thank you, Master Hummel,” Blaine says, stepping into his deep copper bath.
“Are you retiring now?”
“Yes,” Kurt says. “And thank you as well, Blaine, for trusting me, and for your
consent to continue. You know that at any time, you can say no, don’t you?”
That gives Blaine pause. He’s never been given a choice in his lessons before.
“I can?”
“At any time,” Kurt says. “If you are ever uncomfortable to the point where you
don’t wish to continue, you are to tell me at once, do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Hummel.”
“Good boy,” Kurt says. “Take your bath, and have a good night’s rest. I’ll send
in a servant to change your bedding.”
“Thank you, Master Hummel. A good night to you.”
“And to you, sweet boy.”
--
The next morning, Countess Dalloway meets him for breakfast.
“So, has your new tutor been a good teacher so far?” she asks, smiling
teasingly. Blaine freezes for a second, unsure of how to respond, but he
figures honesty is probably best.
“Yes,” he says simply. Honesty is the best policy, but Blaine is well aware
that the next best policy is restraint. “Thank you.”
She opens her mouth to say something else, but the food arrives, borne on great
platters, far more than just the two of them can eat. But along with the food
comes Master Hummel himself, well dressed and looking particularly fine in
black. It makes his skin seem even more translucent, and Blaine smiles and
stands as he approaches.
“Master Hummel,” he says, bowing his head. “Won’t you join us?”
“Thank you, Blaine,” Kurt says. “My lady has already invited me this morning,
but I’m honored that you add your invitation. My apologies for being late,
Countess,” he says to June, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “I’m
afraid the palace is far more confusing to me than I anticipated.”
“Oh, you’re right on time,” the Countess says, glancing over at Blaine. “Have a
seat, we’re just about to get started.”
Blaine seats himself, smiling across the small breakfast table at Kurt, whose
attention is solely focused on the Countess and the food before them.
“Now,” the Countess says, smearing butter over a steaming slice of sweet bread.
“How are you liking your stay here at the palace, Master Hummel?”
“It’s exquisite,” Kurt says, bowing his head. “The quarters are much too
generous, I am in your debt.”
“Yes, but hopefully our Blaine here will excel at his lessons, in which case,
you will have paid them off and thensome,” the Countess says. “Speaking of
which--how did the first lesson go?”
Blaine realizes now that she is well aware of what happened last night, and he
blushes furiously. Does everyone know? Was he the only one who had no idea?
What else has been kept from him?
“Blaine is a wonderful pupil,” Kurt says. “He follows instruction splendidly,
but he asks astute questions as well. I’ve no doubt he will excel as long as he
continues as he’s started.”
“Well, Blaine here expressed to me that he was quite satisfied with the
lesson,” she replies. Blaine keeps as straight a face as he can, but he can’t
help but frowning a bit. All he said was yes when she asked if he liked it.
“And you come so highly qualified. Perhaps I could...sit in on a lesson one
night?”
“I’m afraid until Blaine has received more instruction, that will be...a
hindrance, to the continuation of his learning. Perhaps at a later date, we can
all discuss it more.”
Blaine is increasingly confused. Did the Countess just ask to watch him--
masturbate? And Kurt turned it down?
“Oh, I jest. But perhaps...a private demonstration, Master Hummel?”
And now she’s asking for Kurt to--teach her? What could Kurt possibly have to
show her?
“My lady, I’m flattered. I’m afraid my services have only been contracted for
Blaine here, though, and I believe you hired me knowing that my services are
exclusively for men.”
“Hm, I had to try,” June says with a shrug, eating the last of her bread.
“Well. I’m finished here, and I’ve an appointment with my dressmaker. There’s a
ball in just over one week’s time, Blaine, do you remember?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Blaine says. “We’re welcoming the Duke Berry and his daughter,
Rachel.”
“That’s right, very good,” June says. She stands, and both Blaine and Kurt
stand with her. “Master Hummel, you’re invited to attend the ball as well, as
are all Blaine’s tutors and the more...privileged staff. We’ll discuss it more
another day--I’m going to be late!”
She pats Blaine’s cheek, and with a sweep of her dress, she’s gone.
Kurt finally turns and looks at Blaine. “How did you sleep, Blaine?”
“Um--wonderfully, Master Hummel,” Blaine says. He’d gone straight to sleep
after his bath, and slept soundly for the first time in what seems like
forever. “And you?”
“Oh, quite well, once I found my room,” Kurt laughs. “The palace is gorgeous,
but everything looks pretty much the same to me right now. I’ll have to find
someone to give me a tour.”
“I could!” Blaine says instantly. “Um...that is, if you don’t mind waiting
until my morning lessons are complete. I could--meet you by your rooms? Are you
staying in the east wing?”
“I’d be honored if you’d show me your palace, Blaine,” Kurt says with a smile.
“And yes, I’m in the far southern corner, overlooking the gardens.”
“We’ll start with the gardens, then,” Blaine says, grinning. “I have to go meet
my language tutor, but I’ll see you an hour before noon?”
“I’ll be waiting in my room,” Kurt says. “I’ll see you then.”
Blaine smiles once more before he leaves, waving as he goes.
--
When his lessons are done, Blaine heads to Kurt’s rooms. Whenever the halls are
empty, he indulges in running, but the final turn before Kurt’s room he slows.
He doesn’t want to be too sweaty and out of sorts. By the time he reaches
Kurt’s room, though, he’s fine--breathing normally, clothes straightened, hair
flattened safely.
Kurt opens the door almost immediately after Blaine knocks.
“Right on time,” Kurt says smilingly, focusing on Blaine as he slides out of
his room and shuts the door behind himself. “Shall we?”
The palace is large, but much of it is dedicated to apartments, so Blaine only
has a few places to really show Kurt. He starts with the gardens, circling them
around to the front of the palace again, reentering and showing him the
ballroom and the library, the grand dining hall and the music hall. There are
three wings to the east, west, and south, and Blaine takes Kurt through the
first floor of each, just to orient him.
“And that brings us--back to your room, and the east wing,” Blaine says,
approaching Kurt’s rooms from the hallway connecting to the south wing, where
his own royal apartments are, as well as several other primary suites.
“Well, I don’t know if I’m more or less confused, but that was a lovely tour,”
Kurt says, laughter on the edge of his words. “Now--I notice you didn’t show me
where the kitchens are.”
“Oh!” Blaine says. “I--I know they’re through the dining hall…”
“Is there an entrance elsewhere?” Kurt asks. “I don’t want to disturb the hall
if necessary.”
“I--I don’t know, the ballroom, maybe?” Blaine says. “I’ve never been to the
kitchens. I’m--not allowed.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow. “The future king isn’t allowed to know the layout of
his own palace?”
Blaine grimaces, scratches an itch on the back of his neck. “Well, when you put
it like that--”
“Let’s go find it together,” Kurt says, taking Blaine’s hand.
Blaine follows. He’d follow Kurt anywhere. But he only ends up following him to
the dining hall, this time, which is empty--but the door to the kitchens is
open, and sounds of metal clanging and the smell of cooking food distantly
drift, and Kurt tugs him right toward it.
“I’m--not sure about this--”
Kurt pauses, and turns to look back to Blaine, squeezing his hand. “Are you
afraid of getting in trouble?”
Blaine dithers, but eventually shrugs. “Countess Dalloway would be
disappointed.”
Kurt steps forward and lifts Blaine’s chin with one finger. “Countess Dalloway
is your guardian, not your gaoler. A king should know his palace, and he should
know his staff as well. I take it you’re not encouraged to mingle with them?”
“No.”
Kurt smirks. “Well. Perhaps Countess Dalloway is not always right. What kind of
king do you want to be, Blaine?”
Blaine can feel his hands shaking. “I--I want to be a good king. A better king
than--than my father.”
Kurt’s smile goes soft. “You will be. Did your father ever visit the staff?”
“No.”
“Well then,” Kurt says. “Why don’t we go say hello?” At Blaine’s continued
hesitance, he squeezes Blaine’s hand again. “I’ll take any responsibility
should Countess Dalloway find out or protest. I simply wanted to fetch some
food and you were giving me a tour, yes?”
Blaine shifts uncomfortably. “No. I won’t lie, if she does find out. I don’t
want you in trouble over my choices.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’ll come.”
Kurt’s smile could light the entire hall. Blaine can’t help but return it, and
cherish it, and so he steps ahead of Kurt and pulls him along.
“Let’s go find the kitchens, Master Hummel.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
The staff is--incredible. Blaine, for some reason, never realized that they’re
actually people with hopes and dreams and likes and dislikes and lives. He
meets the girl Sam is infatuated with, a cook named Mercedes, and he meets a
tall, pale girl named Brittany who has a pet cat that rats in the basements.
They’re only two of many--there are plenty more who are eager to meet him and
get to know him and above all, feed him. He’s given several different foods to
try, and by the end, he’s stuffed. But he doesn’t have nearly enough time for
all of the staff today, and it’s with regret that he says his farewells.
“Do you think--” he says to Kurt as they leave through the ballroom. “Do you
think I could come back sometime? Do you think they’d like that?”
“I think they’d love to have you anytime, Blaine,” Kurt says.
“I would like to go back,” Blaine says, automatically leading them toward the
east wing, to Kurt’s room. “I enjoyed myself. I had no idea there were so many
people, just--working here. They make my meals, they clean my rooms, and I
never--I never even thought of them.”
He feels troubled by this, but Kurt puts a hand on his arm, pausing them. “It’s
not too late to change things for yourself, Blaine,” Kurt says. “You’re not
even king yet. You’re still learning, you’re not even of age. But you’ll do
fine, Blaine, if you continue as you’ve started and remember that you’re king
of people, not just a kingdom.”
“You’re--you’re so smart,” Blaine says, smiling. “Why aren’t you my political
tutor as well? All we talk about there are noble families and neighboring
kingdoms.”
“Those things are important, too,” Kurt says. “But how about this--your
political tutor can teach you about the bigger picture. I’ll teach you about
the small picture. I think a king should be able to see both.”
“What did you do before you came here?” Blaine asks. “Were you an advisor?”
Kurt laughs, turning to continue toward his room. “No. I’m as common as they
come, and I’ve never had anything to do with royalty before now. Though I have
met several noble men in my time,” he says slyly.
“What--what are you?”
“I’m a courtesan.”
“A what?”
“I’m your tutor,” Kurt says instead. “That’s what matters now. Are you
questioning my qualifications?” he adds teasingly as they approach his door.
“No,” Blaine laughs. “Never.”
“Good.” Kurt turns to him and grips his wrist. “I have an assignment for you.
When is your next tutor due to see you?”
“I see him at the second hour after noon,” Blaine says. “I think it’s just past
the first hour now.”
“Good,” Kurt says. “Then there’s time.”
He pulls Blaine into the shadow of his doorway and into his personal space.
They’re practically pressed right against each other, and if Blaine takes a big
enough breath, their chests will brush.
“Time for--for what?” Blaine asks, his voice shaking.
Kurt’s free hand finds Blaine’s thigh, raking his fingernails up, up, up to his
groin, just beside his cock. It swells and hardens and heats, and one of Kurt’s
fingers dances over along its length.
“Oh--oh--”
“I want you to go back to your rooms,” Kurt says, “and touch yourself like you
did last night. And I want you to think of what two people might do together.
What you’d like someone to do to you. Do you think you can imagine something
for me?”
Well, for one, he wants Kurt to keep touching him. “Yes.”
“Good,” Kurt says, withdrawing his hand and his presence, opening the door to
his room. “Then I’ll see you tonight after supper.”
The door shuts behind him.
--
Dearest Uncles;
I quite enjoy my new work, thank you. The boy I’m teaching is sheltered as a
baby bird, but progressing well. He’s still a child of Summer, but I have hopes
for him. He’s eager to learn and well disposed.
My employer is rather Kind. She has invited me to a BALL next weekend. Please
let me know if you’ll be in the city, we might be able to meet the next day.
Hope you are well, and to hear from you soon.
K
--
With half an hour before his next lesson, Blaine sits on the edge of his bed
and tugs down his breeches. His cock is still stubbornly hard, the phantom of
Kurt’s lightest touch like a weight, keeping it heavy between his legs.
Do what he did last night. That’s his instruction. And he doesn’t have a lot of
time, so he had better get to it.
He lies back and takes himself in hand. He’s laying pretty much where Kurt sat
last night, so--so he’s lying where Kurt was naked. It’s an arousing thought,
his groin tightens up and he automatically humps up into his hand. What would
Kurt’s skin feel like? Would he be warm? Or smooth? He looks smooth…
Blaine finds himself panting, his eyes shut as he imagines Kurt. He imagines
them--holding each other. People would do that during sex, wouldn’t they? Or
they might--they might kiss. He’d seen Sam do that to a girl once, and there
are old poems that mention it. Would--would Kurt kiss Blaine? Would his mouth
feel good pressed to Blaine’s mouth? He’s not sure what they’d do once they got
there, it’s all a little fuzzy, but the thought draws little noises from his
throat as he strokes himself harder, and his arm kind of aches, should he--
Gods, but he’s close. Kurt would feel so good. Maybe Kurt would--would lie with
him, naked, and maybe Kurt would touch him. Maybe Kurt would put his hand
around Blaine’s cock and stroke him--
He bucks up and comes, splattering over his bare stomach. He takes a moment to
breathe, but then he looks at his clock. It’s nearing two past noon, and he has
to clean up. He launches up and wipes his stomach with his old shirt, the first
thing to hand. Then, he rushes over to his armoire and pulls out another,
slipping it on and straightening himself out quickly before dashing from the
room.
--
That night, Kurt knocks on his door shortly after supper.
“Come in!”
Blaine hovers between his sitting room and bedroom, uncertain and feeling
fluttery somehow, like a moth is panicking at a window somewhere in chest. And
Kurt looks--Kurt looks lovely, he’s dressed differently than earlier, less done
up, no jacket now, but just a loose black tunic and tight, tight grey breeches.
They might as well be hose they cling so close to his legs--
“Blaine?”
Kurt’s eyebrow is raised, and a corner of his mouth as well, as Blaine finally
remembers to look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Master Hummel,” Blaine says. “Did you say something?”
“Not yet,” Kurt says. “Why don’t we go into your room?”
Blaine just nods, and retreats until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed,
gesturing for Kurt to take a seat at the armchair nearby. Kurt ignores it, and
instead sits next to Blaine on the bed.
“So did you complete your assignment?”
Blaine nods. He’d completed it right where they’re sitting. “Yes, Master
Hummel.”
“Don’t be shy on me,” Kurt says, lifting Blaine’s chin with his finger. “You
have nothing to be ashamed of. And while a little embarrassment is normal at
first, I want you to tell me if you ever become truly uncomfortable. Yes?”
“Yes, Master Hummel. Sorry.”
“No need for apologies,” Kurt says lightly. Then he leans in, as though getting
the best gossip. “So. What did you imagine?”
You.
“I--imagined someone else’s hand on me.”
“Mmm,” Kurt hums. “I can tell you it feels very good. Did you imagine anything
else?”
“Um--kissing? I--I thought about kissing.”
Kurt seems to freeze next to him. “Have you ever been kissed?”
“No,” Blaine says. “Not--not like that. I have on the cheek.”
“Your first kiss should be special,” Kurt says, smiling sadly, eyes drifting
away. “With someone you want it with.”
“I--”
Kurt blinks, attention fully on Blaine again. “You what?”
Blaine’s moth is flapping frantically. The light is so close. He just has to
have the courage to reach it.
“I would like it with--with you. If--if you like.”
Kurt’s smile goes sad again. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Blaine. I’m your
teacher. And we’ll be doing some fairly intimate things, but I will still only
be your teacher. I’m here to educate you on sex, and teach you its ways.
Eventually, you’ll have a princess, I’m sure, to share it with. That’s what
this is for.”
“Why a princess?” Blaine asks. “I--why can’t I have a prince?”
Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well...technically, there’s no law against it. Not
in Dayan. But it’s certainly frowned upon, and you’re going to be a king--you
have to provide an heir. You can only reproduce with a female.”
“Oh,” Blaine says. “I--I hadn’t thought. I just.”
“Have you ever imagined...a woman?”
“No,” Blaine says. “I thought--I thought about a man.”
Kurt nods. “Well, that’s unfortunate, for your position. But you can work with
it. You can find a good political match, even if you never love your wife, and
perhaps take a lover on the side. You’re royalty, that’s simply how it’s done
sometimes.”
“What about you?” Blaine asks. “You told Countess Dalloway that you only...you
only work with men?”
“I only take male clientele,” Kurt says. “And I only take male lovers.”
“What’s a courtesan?”
Kurt’s face freezes for a second, and then he bursts out laughing. “Oh,
goodness. I had no idea you didn’t know, Blaine, why didn’t you tell me.”
“I just--”
“It’s okay,” Kurt says. “I’m paid to have sex with men. I offer my body, my
skill in bed. I receive payment for that. I’m the best in the capital. That’s
why Countess Dalloway hired me to teach you what to do.”
“But if men together are frowned upon…”
“In some places, yes,” Kurt says. “But you and I aren’t lovers, Blaine. We will
do things lovers do, if you’re comfortable with it, in the course of my
tutorship, but we have no attachment but that of teacher and pupil.”
Blaine’s chest aches, and he can’t stop his face from falling. “Oh.”
Kurt’s hand is in his instantly. “We can be friends, too. If that’s what you
want.”
Blaine feels ashamed to find that he is tearing up. “I’m sorry. I’m being
foolish--”
“Tell me what you feel.”
Blaine pauses, and then it pours out. “I just don’t have many friends.”
Kurt’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and he’s pulled into Kurt’s embrace as
he struggles to hold back his weeping. “Oh, Blaine. How lonely you must be. I’m
sorry the Countess has kept you from making friends.”
The Countess? Kurt assumes she is the reason Blaine is all but friendless--he
can count Sam, but Sam is still his servant, Blaine supposes. The Countess
would indeed frown upon that. And she’s frowned upon Blaine meeting anyone
else, as well, aside from nobles and dignitaries that visit, but Blaine has
only ever met them in official capacity, at the Countess’s behest. Is she--
“I will be your friend, Blaine,” Kurt says, pulling back and wiping a tear from
Blaine’s cheek. “I’m not sure the Countess will ever allow me in the palace
again once my job is complete, but until that time, I am your friend. I
promise.”
Blaine smiles, sniffs. “Thank you.”
“Now,” Kurt says, smile going wicked. “We have a lesson to continue. Would you
like to feel someone else’s hand on you? My hand?”
Blaine feels like his whole body is stammering as he says, “Y-yes, yes please.”
Kurt laughs, not unkindly, and reaches to undress Blaine. “Come--clothes off.”
Together, they strip Blaine down. Kurt takes off his own shirt, but leaves his
breeches on as he presses a now-naked Blaine down onto his bed.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes--oh, yes--” Kurt’s hand is on him, strong and warm and holding tighter
than Blaine does, but gods that feels good, it feels amazing.
“That’s right, let yourself feel good,” Kurt urges softly, flicking his wrist,
his other hand coming up to cup Blaine’s balls, gently rolling them in his
fingers. “That’s it.”
Blaine arches his back, heels scrabbling on the bed, hands twisted in his
bedsheets so as not to reach for Kurt with them. “M-master Hummel, that--that
feels--oh--”
“What a good boy,” Kurt coos, voice husky. “So good for me, Blaine. Do you want
to come? I can see it in your face--”
Blaine does want to come, but he wants Kurt’s hands to stay on him, too, he
doesn’t want to lose that contact, he wants Kurt to keep praising him and
touching him, gods--
“Go ahead, sweet boy,” Kurt says. “Come for me.”
Blaine’s body complies willingly, coming hard, seed spurting up to land in
stripes along his chest and navel before dribbling over Kurt’s hand. Kurt
smiles, and licks it off his hand. Blaine moans, and the pleasure spikes sharp
somewhere behind his cock, around it.
“Staying hard for me?” Kurt muses. “Eager, eager boy.” He strokes Blaine again,
and the pleasure is too much, too much, but Kurt just keeps gently stroking,
and it’s just bearable. Blaine’s stomach jerks with it, his throat letting out
sharp, short whines.
“Wait, wait--”
Kurt’s hand immediately withdraws. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I just--” Blaine sits up, gasps for breath. “Just--need to breathe--”
“Okay, you’re okay,” Kurt says soothingly. “Go ahead and breathe for a minute.”
Blaine does so, but with his new vantage from sitting up, he sees the front of
Kurt’s breeches tenting out.
“Can I?” Blaine asks, eyes barely darting away to catch Kurt’s before they drop
back down. “Can I--”
“I don’t know that pleasing a man will help you to eventually please your wife,
Blaine.”
“But I don’t want to please a wife,” Blaine says, looking up pleadingly at
Kurt’s eyes, capturing them and trying to show just how much he means this
through that alone. It’s all he’s got until Kurt says okay. “I--like you said,
I could have a lover. A male lover. I want to--I want to.”
Kurt looks to battle with himself for a moment, but then he sighs. “You’re hard
to say no to, Blaine. That’s a rare quality.” He stands, and unlaces his
breeches. “You should foster it.”
He drops the breeches, and reveals his long, lean body. He looks like
sculptures, like artwork, all curved-but-angled muscles and pale, smooth skin.
And he’s obviously not ashamed of his body, displaying it readily, open and
calm and at ease in his glorious skin.
“May I touch you, Master Hummel?” Blaine asks, sitting up. “Please?”
Kurt approaches, and his cock hangs before Blaine, around his collarbone. He
reaches up and grabs it, adjusts to the angle a few times with giggles from
them both, and begins to stroke, slipping his foreskin toward himself and over
the shaft with tight strokes, as though tugging Kurt closer and moving him
away. But Kurt moves with the strokes, and soon his hips are rocking steadily,
his back arched, his legs tensing.
“You look so very pretty there, Blaine,” Kurt gasps. “So pretty. I’ve had very
few as pretty as you. Maybe none.”
“Thank you, Master Hummel,” Blaine says, blushing. “You’re--you’re the most
handsome man I’ve ever seen.”
Kurt reaches forward and cups one of Blaine’s cheeks. “Oh, sweet boy. What I
wouldn’t give…”
“Give? For what?”
Kurt’s hips stall, and he bites his lip, but apparently he was truthful in
saying he cannot resist Blaine at all.
“For your mouth,” Kurt says. “You’re very hard to say no to, Blaine.”
“I could--I could kiss you,” Blaine says. “I want to.”
Kurt smiles. “You’re so very innocent,” he says, and his smile is strained. “I
cannot take advantage of you, Blaine, as much as I might wish to.”
“Then let me finish?” Blaine requests, only half-understanding what Kurt might
mean. He starts stroking Kurt’s cock again, heavy and longer than Blaine’s,
rose red at the tip and slightly browner than the rest of him along his
foreskin, the blue line of veins peeking out. Every pass Kurt breathes harder,
hips thrusting into Blaine’s hand, and Blaine finally understands what Kurt
might have meant--he wanted Blaine’s mouth on him.
He leans forward, and when Kurt stills, he very tentatively kisses the tip of
Kurt’s cock, which immediately jerks and dribbles come, a groan coming from
Kurt. Blaine automatically strokes it out of sheer surprise, some come dripping
on his chin and lips, and he flicks his tongue out to taste.
He grimaces. “That’s--huh.”
Kurt laughs. “I’m so sorry, sweet boy. Let’s clean you up.”
Kurt leads him to his bath, which is already filled with water that should have
cooled from steaming hot into something bearable now. Kurt wipes Blaine’s chin
with a washing cloth, smiling. “I am so very sorry, that--hasn’t happened in a
very long time.”
“What?” Blaine asks. “And--and it’s okay. It was--it just tasted strange.”
“Well, you wouldn’t want to eat it for breakfast,” Kurt says wryly. “But you
can grow used to the taste, and even to like it.” He pulls back. “I’ll dress
and go in a moment. Is there anything you’d like to ask? Or say?”
Blaine stops, and thinks. Is there something he wants to say?
No. There’s just something he wants to do. But he has to ask Kurt, first.
Kurt’s been firm about permission for these things, so Blaine will do the same
for him.
“Can I kiss you?” Blaine asks. “Please?”
“Blaine--”
“Please, Master Hummel,” Blaine says. “I--I really want to know how. I want--
I want to know what it feels like.”
“Blaine, there will be someone for you soon enough. Someone your own age--”
“Not with the Countess,” Blaine says, a little sullen. “Unless it’s a girl.”
A hand, cupping his face. “You’re so young, Blaine.”
“I’m fifteen,” Blaine says. “I’ll be sixteen in just over a month.”
Kurt smiles. “And I am twenty-four. I’m nine years your senior.”
Blaine can’t say exactly why, but he knows, he knows, that he needs to kiss
Kurt. His lips feel like they’re buzzing with it, he needs to do this.
“Kurt. Please.”
Kurt blinks down at him, staring. And then, something melts, and--
And kissing is the most beautiful, most wonderful thing Blaine has ever
experienced. Just a brush of Kurt’s lips, and his eyes shut into total bliss.
He’s warm, and soft, and--
And gone.
“We’ll continue our lessons as normal tomorrow,” Kurt says, yanking his
breeches on and throwing his shirt over his head, haphazardly dressed within
seconds, looking wild. “Goodnight, Blaine.”
And with that, he flies from Blaine’s room and out into the palace, leaving
Blaine alone, his lips tingling.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Despite his declaration that they would continue as normal the next night, Kurt
cancels their lesson.
“Did he say why?” Blaine asks, feigning innocent curiosity as best he can to
the Countess over breakfast.
“He stopped me in the hall and said he’d gotten urgent news about his father,”
the Countess says. “Naturally I let the poor man go, he was all out of sorts.”
So Blaine attends his studies, and life is returned to what it was three days
prior. Except now Blaine knows the touch of another man on his skin, he’s
kissed that other man, he’s--he’s got strong feelings for this other man, wants
to get to know this other man. Because the other man is Kurt, and Blaine feels
like he’s known him a hundred years through only a few conversations.
Blaine has read about love. There are a thousand thousand poems about it, the
Countess couldn’t keep him in the dark about everything. Is it love, what he
feels? Is it that strike of lightning? It feels more like fireflies,
surrounding him, gently flickering around him, lighting his eyes and showing
the world in its true, softest beauty. They fill him with wonder, and Blaine
cannot look away. Is that what love is like?
He can’t ask Kurt. Kurt’s not here, and he might not be comfortable with the
question as it is. After all, he ran out of Blaine’s room. Blaine might know so
much less than he ever thought about--about life, but he knows enough to be
able to see that.
But what else can he do?
--
The next day, Kurt is returned to the castle. He looks wan, and paler than
usual, something grey tinged in his skin. He’s still beautiful, but he looks so
sad and tired.
“Master Hummel?”
“I think we’re beyond that now, aren’t we, Blaine?” Kurt says wearily, but with
a small smile. They’re in the breakfast hall, at the Countess’s request,
ostensibly, though she is late. “When it’s just us, call me Kurt.”
Blaine smiles back. “Kurt.”
It’s then that the Countess finally joins them.
“Ah, Master Hummel,” she says, taking her seat as he kisses her hand. “How is
your father?”
“He is ill, my lady,” Kurt says. “He has been ill for some time. But he still
fights.”
“I suppose that’s how you came to be a prostitute?” the Countess says, rather
boorishly.
Kurt flushes, but he nods all the same. “Yes, my lady. Such is how it happens,
sometimes.”
The Countess nods, and eyes Kurt as she eats. Blaine watches in what can only
be described as horror as Kurt looks down, apparently cowed beneath her
brusqueness. But only the other day, she was perfectly amiable?
“I hope you’re well enough to return to your duties, then, Master Hummel,” she
says.
“I shall.”
He doesn’t look at Blaine once through the whole meal.
--
That night, Kurt enters the room with renewed vigor. He comes in briskly, and
crosses his arms before Blaine.
“We need to straighten this out,” Kurt says. “We are friends, Blaine, but we
are also teacher and pupil. That gives me a certain power over you. And it is
easy to take advantage of power, but it is also immoral. And I may be a
courtesan, I may take money for sex, but I am not immoral. My father raised a
better son than that.”
This is possibly the most he’s learned of Kurt in one conversation, so Blaine
just nods. “O-okay.”
“We will keep the sexual aspect of our relationship professional,” Kurt says.
“I will teach you to the best of my ability, but our friendship must remain a
friendship and nothing more. Are we understood?”
It cuts at Blaine, but if Kurt does not want him as a lover, if Kurt does not
love him--there’s nothing more to say. And Blaine might love Kurt, but he has
no claim over him. He is his teacher, and he chooses to be Blaine’s friend. He
should be grateful for that much.
“Yes, Master Hummel.”
Kurt smiles, kindly this time, dropping his arms. “I did mean what I said
earlier. If we’re in private, call me Kurt. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes, Kurt,” Blaine says, smiling back.
“Good,” Kurt says. “Now. Let’s continue the lesson you tried to start two
nights’ past, hmm?”
Blaine remembers vividly leaning forward, his lips brushing the head of Kurt’s
cock, and he hardens almost painfully. “I--can I--”
“Mmm, we’ll be doing something...similar,” Kurt says. “You’ll be getting what
you tried to give me. But there’s something you’re going to learn to do
that’s...a little different.”
“Oh?” Blaine asks, trembling.
“Oh,” Kurt agrees playfully, backing away toward Blaine’s bed and unlacing his
tunic at the throat. “You’ll be pleasing a woman, after all. But I think I
can...simulate what you’ll be doing.”
He removes his shirt and sits down on the bed, patting beside him. “Would you
remove your clothes, and sit?”
Blaine hastens to comply. Shirt off, pants dropped, and then he’s seated, half-
bent over his erection, a bit shy about it.
“Mmm, very nice,” Kurt purrs, stroking Blaine’s shoulder. “Lie back for me.”
Kurt kneels between Blaine’s legs, hands kneading at his shoulders, chest,
drifting down over his stomach, just touching him. It feels incredible, just
the warm contact of Kurt’s fingers and palms over his body.
“How does this feel?” Kurt asks, fingertips brushing over his ribs.
“Good,” Blaine breathes. “Really good--”
And then Kurt bends down and takes Blaine’s cock between his lips.
“Oh gods--”
“Sshh,” Kurt whispers, and then he’s back around Blaine again, sucking and
tonguing at his head and--it feels so hot and so wet, gods--
“Oh--Kurt,” Blaine whines, trying to be quiet but squeaking instead. “That’s--
that feels--”
Kurt pulls off and strokes him hard, hand slick with the saliva he left behind.
“Have you been touching yourself while I’m not here?”
Yes. He’d spent last night trying to hold off on coming so he could continue a
fantasy of continuing to kiss Kurt’s cock, but he’ll have so much more to
imagine now that he’s experiencing it firsthand.
But all that comes out of his mouth is, “Unh--haaaa--”
Kurt giggles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” And he returns to sucking Blaine,
tongue doing wicked things that have Blaine tensing and fighting off orgasm
within minutes.
“Kurt,” Blaine groans, trying to pull back. “Please, I--I don’t want to finish
yet--”
“You say that like you won’t be ready for more by the time I’m done letting you
touch me.”
Blaine tosses his head back and lets Kurt have him. Oh, gods, what is Kurt
going to have him do? Is he really going to be allowed to touch, to--to taste--
He comes with his cock in Kurt’s throat, fluttering in little swallows around
it until Blaine hisses--too much, too sensitive, but Kurt releases him
immediately and wipes his mouth, crawling up Blaine’s body until he’s straddled
over him.
“Are you ready for the next part of the lesson?” he asks, smirking and leaning
down. Blaine leans up, he--he has to kiss him, he has to taste his lips, but
then in a smooth motion Kurt grabs him by the shoulders and flips them, landing
spread on his back with Blaine lying between his legs and oh that’s Kurt’s
cock, hard against Blaine’s stomach, and his ass against Blaine’s hips, his
legs--
“Oh gods,” Blaine gasps, rutting against Kurt’s ass instinctively. Kurt groans
and rocks into him, he Kurt was right, he’ll be ready for more far sooner than
he anticipated, is that supposed to happen? “Oh, Kurt--”
“No, wait,” Kurt says, hands up to Blaine’s shoulders again to stall him.
“You’re not going to be doing that just yet, though we’ll get to it.” To what,
Blaine wonders? He’d ask, but Kurt continues, “For now, you have another task,
and I will walk you through it.”
“What is it?” Blaine asks.
Kurt shoves him down, down, pressing him until he slides down, face just over
Kurt’s hips, and then down further still. And then Kurt reaches under his
knees, pulls them up and out, and reveals his--his hole, down between the
cheeks of his--his ass--
Kurt grins down. “You’re going to eat me out.”
Blaine has one question. “What is eating out?”
Kurt hums. “What I want you to do is lick me. Here,” he says, shifting a hand
down and pointing to his hole. “I want you to kiss it, lick it, prod it. I will
guide you along.”
“O-okay,” Blaine says uncertainly. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Kurt says. “Go ahead and hold up my legs, and try it out.”
Blaine takes over holding Kurt’s legs, and shifts around until he’s comfortable
and close enough to Kurt to lean in and touch him with his mouth. This feels--
strange. It doesn’t seem to make any sense--can pleasure be derived here? He
doesn’t think he could, he’s only ever used it for one thing. But Kurt is clean
and asking Blaine to do this, so--so he will.
He kisses it, first. Just a soft press of lips, and Kurt sighs above him. So he
does it again, harder, moving his lips, and then he slides his tongue out and
licks it like he’d lick a spoon. Kurt whines, ass clenching noticeably. Can it-
-can it really feel that good?
He tries more. A longer lick, and it tastes sharp here, but it’s not bad. So he
presses harder, licks longer, experiments. Kurt gets louder and louder, calls
his name when Blaine draws a circle with his tongue, grips Blaine’s hair with
his hands. And then he starts talking.
“This will be different on a woman,” Kurt says. “We will have to show you some
anatomy books. But the tongue movements will be similar, and you’ll have to be
able to handle an aching jaw, as well as handle penetration and a clitoris.”
“What’s--what?” Blaine says, gasping for breath and working his jaw before
going back to work. The noises he makes, and Blaine is getting to touch him and
kiss him, even if it’s not the kisses he wants, and he just wants to make Kurt
feel good and he feels so good, too. Kurt’s skin, and Kurt’s muscles, and
Kurt’s sweat, and Kurt’s everything, it’s all so good--
“We’ll look at anatomy charts,” Kurt says. “The physicians might have one to
borrow. Or I might have to bring in a friend from the city to help out.”
“Don’t want that,” Blaine murmurs, prodding at Kurt’s hole. He’s--softer here,
somehow, Blaine thinks he might be able to feel more of him. “Want you.”
Kurt just breathes for a moment, and then whispers, so softly, “Okay.”
And then he moans, loud and long. Blaine’s tongue just went inside, he would
swear it. He pulls back and looks, and Kurt’s hole is so pink, and it’s swollen
and shiny with spit. Blaine puts a fingertip against it and tests it--it’s
soft, and gives.
“That’s--yes, that’s good,” Kurt says. “I--I didn’t bring oil, so don’t do too
much, but if you keep it wet with your mouth, you can put one finger inside me.
Only one.”
And it hits Blaine, as he sucks his finger and returns it, prodding gently.
This is what Kurt meant by penetration. To be--to be inside him. And that
means--earlier, when Blaine pressed his cock here, that means--could that--it
would never fit, would it? Is that what could happen?
Is that what will happen?
“Oh, gods, Kurt,” Blaine says, as his finger is swallowed up. “Am I--am I going
to be in you?”
“One day, yes,” Kurt says calmly. “Now--turn so your palm is facing up, and
crook your finger.” Blaine does so, and then, “Now thrust it in and out.
Gently. And stroke with your finger.”
Kurt is so hot and tight. It’s like nothing Blaine has ever felt before, only
made better by Kurt writhing and moaning Blaine’s name.
“Just like that,” Kurt says. “Keep--going--”
He reaches down, and takes himself in hand, stroking himself, and Blaine
follows his instincts and bats Kurt’s hand away, taking over that task himself,
so both his hands are full of Kurt, surrounded by him, surrounding him.
“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt says, voice strained and tight. “No idea--you have no idea
how good you are--sweet boy--oh, yes!”
Kurt comes, and comes hard. His mouth opens, his eyes tighten shut, and he
looks transported and beautiful, sweat shining on his brow as his body rocks in
and away, the tension breaking into gasps for breath and smooth undulations of
his body as the come spills onto his stomach.
“Ease out now, Blaine, slowly,” Kurt says, and Blaine can feel his finger being
pushed out. He follows its press very slowly, until finally he pops free. “Very
good, very good Blaine. Thank you for that.” He eyes Blaine, who is achingly
hard between his legs. He raises his arms up. “Mmm, come here. Lie on me.”
Blaine falls into his arms gratefully, leaning in for a kiss. But Kurt turns
his head, lifts it, and Blaine’s kiss lands on the underside of his jaw. Blaine
takes that, lets it satisfy him a little bit--but not at all. Gods, he wants
Kurt to kiss him again--
“Rub against me,” Kurt says. “Go ahead. Like you did before.”
Blaine holds Kurt close and rocks against him, moving his hips along with the
sudden press of Kurt’s hands there. He presses them forward and then pulls them
back, and when he has a rhythm, Kurt stops pressing, and slide up his back,
holding him close in. His head hides in the crook of Kurt’s neck, and he smells
so good, and Blaine can kiss him here, so he does, mouthing at the skin and
wishing it were Kurt’s lips as his cock presses hard against the cleft of
Kurt’s ass and up alongside his balls, soft and warm and off center but it’s
too good, and--and--
Blaine comes with a sob, shooting a mess all over Kurt’s groin. But Kurt
doesn’t seem to care--he just holds Blaine close, stroking his hair, nose
against his scalp.
“Very good, sweet boy,” Kurt murmurs. “You’re so good for me.”
Blaine just wonders if he’s so good, why doesn’t Kurt love him? But all he says
is, “Thank you,” and lets himself enjoy being held like this while he can.
--
Dearest nephew;
We will be in the city on that evening. We so love to see the sun go down over
the Emerald Hill. It looks glorious shining behind the Temple, don’t you think?
We are both glad you have befriended your pupil. We have heard many good things
about him. We hope you continue to prove a good influence on him.
We shall see you this coming week’s end. We can hardly Wait, just four more
days.
All our love, Ems
--
***** Chapter 5 *****
The next night, Blaine is on his back, legs and arms spread wide, two of Kurt’s
fingers inside of him. He’s sweating and writhing and he can’t seem to catch
his breath, and Kurt’s fingers are long and thin but they feel huge and Blaine
never imagined that it could feel like this--
“More,” he gasps out. It’s the third time he’s done so--once when Kurt had
pressed him to the bed and stroked over his hole until he was begging, and once
more when one finger had proven to be far too little. “Please, more--”
Kurt lifts his head, lips shining and pink from the work he’d been doing on
Blaine’s collarbone. It’s littered with bruises now, all lined up like Kurt had
planned them, had wanted to put them exactly where they are, deep and purpling.
They’d--stung, in a strange way, the suction almost too hard, but Blaine had
bucked beneath him and Kurt had not relented; Blaine hadn’t wanted him to, and
didn’t ask him to, and so Blaine was certainly grateful for that.
“Even more, sweet boy?” Kurt asks. “How are you feeling?”
“More,” Blaine insists, half out of his mind with pleasure, his legs aching
from spreading so wide, his ass aching for more, more.
Kurt chuckles. “Greedy.” He pours more oil onto his fingers from the little
clay pot he’d brought with him, and when he spears Blaine again, it’s wider,
too much, oh gods.
“Kurt,” Blaine whines, scrabbling at the bed. “Kurt, oh my--please--”
“I’ll take care of you, sweet boy,” Kurt says, smoothing over Blaine’s abdomen
with his free hand. “Don’t worry.” The hand slides down, and as the thickest
part of his fingers breaches Blaine, he grasps Blaine’s cock and starts up a
quick rhythm with it. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels--oh, it feels so good,” Blaine says, breath bursting out between
words. He can’t seem to hold it in his chest, can’t stop moving. “Can--can you
do--harder? Will it hurt me?”
“No, no Blaine,” Kurt says, pumping his fingers harder, just like Blaine asked.
Blaine keens, and Kurt groans and leans down, taking Blaine’s cock into his
mouth. He bobs enthusiastically, and Blaine can’t decide how to move his hips,
so they jerk ineffectually as Kurt plays his body like a harp, strung tight and
singing.
“Oh, Kurt, please--” Blaine heaves for breath, finding a rhythm with Kurt and
thrusting up and then down onto his fingers, and Kurt works with him and it’s
perfect, oh gods-- “Please keep going. Don’t stop--don’t stop--oh, oh, Kurt!”
He comes, clenching down around Kurt’s fingers, and it seems to both heighten
it and draw it out as Kurt swallows endlessly around him, over and over, taking
every pulse of Blaine’s cock before popping off and wiping his mouth. He kneels
down, spreads his legs, and leans back on one hand, the other taking his own
cock and stroking it hard and fast. “Oh, sweet boy,” he groans. “You don’t know
how beautiful you are--so, so good for me--ah, Blaine!”
Blaine has his mouth around Kurt’s cock, unable to resist trying it out,
because Kurt never brought it up as part of their lessons, and he wants it. And
Kurt seems perfectly amenable, only pausing Blaine once to say watch your teeth
before letting Blaine have him, following only what he’s seen and felt Kurt do
to him and instinct.
Kurt doesn’t complain. He lets Blaine take him, suck him, explore him with
hands and mouth, and Blaine can’t get enough. Finally, Kurt takes the base of
himself in hand, and pumps along with Blaine’s inexperienced but eager bobs
until he comes, spurting bitter and sharp into Blaine’s mouth, gritting his
teeth against a cry that Blaine thinks might have been his name. He does his
best to swallow the strange taste of Kurt’s come before leaning up, kissing
Kurt’s neck.
“Was I good?” Blaine asks, suddenly very self-conscious.
Kurt cups his cheek and smiles. “You were wonderful, Blaine. Truly.”
The moment is there. Blaine can feel the tension between them, he’s young and
inexperienced but he’s not stupid. Kurt is staring at his lips, and he can’t
stop looking down at Kurt’s, and they’re so still. It’s the stillness before
battle, the building of energy before unleashing it, and Blaine knows he has to
strike.
He leans in for a kiss, and Kurt turns his cheek. “No.”
He leaves the bed, leaves Blaine cold and humiliated and rejected. “You--you
truly don’t care for me, do you.”
Kurt scoffs, tugging on his pants. “Blaine. That’s not it.”
“Then what?” Blaine asks. “Because I am so young? I am old enough to decide--”
“You are far too young, yes,” Kurt says. “That’s part of it. But I told you
once, I am your teacher--”
“And I don’t care!” Blaine bursts out, throwing his hands up before sliding
from the bed and tugging his own pants on, feeling too bare. “Why not, Kurt.
You aren’t in power over me. I’m a Prince, you might be my tutor but I have
been raised to my own authority--”
“Oh, please,” Kurt spits. “Maybe when your parents were alive, but you think
the Countess will ever allow you any ounce of your own will?”
He throws his shirt on and shrugs on the vest he’d been wearing, not even
bothering to do it up and leaving it loose as he rounds on Blaine. “Look, it
doesn’t matter. We can’t--”
“It matters to me,” Blaine says petulantly.
Kurt sighs. “Blaine. I’m a courtesan. You’re a king.”
“It’s happened before--”
“I am nine years your senior--”
“I am old enough--”
“We can’t, Blaine,” Kurt says. “That is final. You’ll--you’ll be married, to
someone else, to someone your age, and to someone who deserves you. You might
learn to love them, or you might find an appropriate lover for your own. But as
soon as my tutelage is complete, I will no longer be welcome at this palace.”
“Yes you will,” Blaine insists. “Kurt, they can’t keep you out--”
“Yes. She can.” Kurt takes one of Blaine’s hands and kisses it. “I care for you
very much, Blaine. And you are my very dear friend. But it can’t be anything
more.”
He turns, and without another word, he leaves.
--
The next day, Blaine meets the Countess for lunch at her own request, having
missed breakfast.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Blaine says, when they’re seated together. “I’m afraid I
slept in.”
“No doubt you were kept up too late,” she says with faint disapproval. “I trust
your studies are going well?”
“Yes, my lady,” Blaine says. “Just today, I learned from Master Lane--”
“Yes, I’ve received reports from Master Lane. I was referring to your evening
classes,” June says, raising an eyebrow.
“Y-yes,” Blaine says. “They’re--they’re going well. Master Hummel has been a
wonderful teacher--”
June scoffs. “Of course. That’s why we hired him. But I trust your studies will
soon be complete, and we’ll all be the better for it.”
Blaine frowns. “What--”
“I need to speak to you about this weekend, however,” she continues, ignoring
Blaine. “The ball is in two days. And you have certain duties to perform
there.”
“Yes, my lady,” Blaine says. “Am I to be escorting you again?”
“No,” June says with a smile. “Much as I would enjoy that, I’m afraid I will be
accompanied by another. You will be attending the Lady Rachel. The Duke’s
daughter?”
“Oh, yes,” Blaine says. “I--would enjoy that. I’ve heard she’s lovely.”
“She is,” June says. “She’s also to be your wife.”
Blaine chokes on his food, and coughs for nearly a minute before he can catch
his breath again.
“Dear gods, boy, are you all right?” June asks.
“Yes, my lady, my apologies,” Blaine says gaspingly. He takes a drink of wine.
“Did you say she’s to be my wife?”
“I did,” June says, unabashed. “Naturally you’ll have time first, you won’t be
married until shortly before your coronation, which is two years away yet. But
you are to foster and maintain a relationship with the Lady Rachel, and at a
suitable time, you’ll be betrothed. It’s an excellent match.”
Blaine takes another, longer pull of his wine, and then looks over at June
again. “So--so soon?”
“You can’t be a king without a queen,” June says, smiling. “Not if you’re to
maintain the line of succession. Lady Rachel is of very noble birth, the Duke
Berry is a very important man. A very strange man, and you’re not to repeat
that. But very important.”
“May I be excused?”
The world is spinning, and Blaine is spinning with it. He can feel his chest
tighten, gods, this is what Kurt was talking about, wasn’t it? Does everyone
know but him, again?
“Are you not hungry, Blaine?”
“Not any longer, no,” Blaine says, trembling. “I find my stomach has--has
turned--”
“Oh, Blaine, there’s nothing to be afraid of!” June says, waving a hand
flippantly. “It’s just marriage. Trust me, you’re very lucky--”
“I have no desire to marry Lady Rachel.”
June’s mouth sets in a firm line. “My dear boy, I’m afraid the match has been
made. Besides, you don’t even know the girl! You could fall in love--”
“No,” Blaine says, his words heavy and sure, “I am certain that I will never
fall in love with Rachel.”
June stands, grim-faced. “And how do you know this, hm? Without even knowing
her?”
He can’t. He can’t do it. His love is not wrong, no matter that he cannot love
a woman. His love for a man--for Kurt--is not wrong, but he cannot face his
guardian, the woman who raised him, telling him that it is.
“I beg your pardon, my lady--” Blaine spits, and then turns and flees the room.
He doesn’t care who sees--he runs through the halls. He runs until he reaches
the southern corner of the east wing, and he skids to a halt and bangs on
Kurt’s door.
“Kurt!” he calls. “Kurt, please be here--” He bangs again.
The door opens wide, and Blaine almost falls into Kurt, who looks down at him
half-hunched. “Blaine? What’s wrong--”
“You knew,” Blaine accuses viciously, and he can feel the tears welling up
behind his eyes, quickly building to fall. “You knew, didn’t you--”
“What?” Kurt asks, voice low and soothing.
“About Rachel!” Blaine blurts out. “That I’m--that I’m going to be betrothed--”
Kurt swallows heavily. “I--I didn’t know it was this soon, or to whom. But yes,
I knew that eventually you would be betrothed. I told you that--”
“Why her? Why now?” Blaine asks, not really asking Kurt. “It’s not fair, I
don’t want her, I don’t love her, I’ll never love her!”
“If this is because of me--”
“You’re the reason I know, yeah!” Blaine shouts. “Because I’ll never love a
woman. I--I don’t want a woman, I can’t--”
“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt says, sad. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could do something--”
“You could, but you won’t,” Blaine snaps, the tears breaking. “You won’t--you
won’t love me. You don’t--”
Kurt pulls Blaine inside his room, shutting the door. “Blaine, they’ll hear
you--”
“I don’t care who hears!” he yells. “It’s better that they all know. Their king
will never love their queen, because he can’t love a woman at all. Kurt, is
there something wrong with me--”
“No, sweet boy,” Kurt says instantly. “There is nothing wrong with you, never
anything wrong with loving who you love--”
“Then why don’t you love me?” Blaine asks, and for the first time, he feels
painfully young before Kurt, who looks at him in pain, brow drawn, biting his
lip.
“Blaine--”
“You don’t,” Blaine sobs. “And I want you to so badly.”
Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, and then, all at once, his eyes
snap open and he stares Blaine down, fierce.
“Fuck it,” he says. “Fuck waiting.”
He takes Blaine’s face between his hands, leans in, and kisses Blaine full on
the mouth.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Their lips don’t part as Blaine backs Kurt into his room and kicks the door
shut behind them. Blaine couldn’t bear it if they did--not now that he has
them, soft and pressing firmly against his, moving in ways he can’t quite keep
up with just yet, but gods he’ll learn, he’ll practice until he’s perfect.
“Mmm,” Kurt groans against his lips. Blaine continues to kiss him--words can’t
be important right now. “Bed?”
Blaine doesn’t do anything but push Kurt back toward it. His room is spacious,
but only one room, and the bed is right in the center and the pathway is open.
So they stumble, kissing, tongues and lips doing strange things, teeth bumping
awkwardly but Blaine doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he and Kurt are kissing and
it’s the most amazing feeling.
Kurt finally pulls away, tearing his shirt up over his head. Blaine follows
suit, and in a cascade of discarded clothing, they finally come together,
bared. Kurt’s body is stunning; it is lean and strong and so, so long, his legs
go on and on and Blaine wants to kiss every inch of them, ankle to hip.
He lowers Kurt to the bed, determined to do exactly that, but Kurt holds him
close and pulls Blaine down with him, in his arms. Blaine goes willingly,
letting himself be positioned over Kurt, between his long, long legs, which
hitch up around Blaine’s hips.
“Want it like this,” Kurt says. “Want this--wanted this from the first time I
saw you touch yourself--watched you feel so good for me--because of me--”
“I did, Kurt,” Blaine whines. “You, you, always you--”
And Kurt’s mouth, Kurt’s velveteen mouth is within reach, and Blaine seizes it
again, capturing Kurt’s lower lip between his own, moving them together,
following Kurt’s lead for the rhythm before taking over himself, eager and
determined to kiss deeper, more.
And gods, Kurt’s body feels as amazing as it looks. Blaine is wrapped up in his
warm limbs, pulled against the strong line of him, a blade to cleave Blaine’s
heart in two.
At that thought, Blaine bursts out laughing. Kurt looks at him as though he is
mad. “No, I’m sorry,” Blaine says. “I just--was thinking that you’d make a poet
of me.”
“I’m sure the world will be less for not being graced with your poetry,” Kurt
says patiently, “but I do not think that your attention should be on the world
right now.” He reaches over to the table by his bedside and pulls over his
little ceramic pot of oil. “I’ll need you to focus.”
Blaine kneels up, takes the pot from Kurt’s proffering hand, and unstoppers it.
The oil drifts up a strong scent of almonds, and Blaine smiles at the pleasant
smell. “Am I going to--like you did for me?”
“With your fingers?” Blaine nods. “Yes, sweet boy. But only to begin with.” He
takes Blaine’s cock in hand and strokes it twice. “This will be our final
goal.”
Blaine nods, dipping two fingers into the oil like he’d seen Kurt do. It’s
slightly cool, slippery and thick as Blaine rubs his fingers together through
it. “I--how--”
Kurt turns over onto his belly and spreads his legs wide, displaying his ass
clearly. “Like this. For now.”
Blaine just nods again, smoothing his oil-slick fingers over Kurt’s wrinkled
hole, pressing at the hot little center of it with the pads of his fingers
until Kurt rocks back and keens.
“In,” Kurt says. “Both of them. In me.”
“You said to always start with one,” Blaine says, remembering his lessons.
“Unnh, yes, generally,” Kurt says, peeking back. “Unless your partner asks for
it and knows they can handle it. I can handle it. Put them in me--fold them
together like I showed you and do it.” He rocks back pointedly, and Blaine
giggles at his demanding temperament.
“Whatever you want,” Blaine says sincerely, folding his fingers, one just over
the other to make the press of them as circular as possible. Then, he presses
very gently.
Kurt is harder to breach than Blaine would have imagined. There’s resistance at
his rim, and Blaine often feels like he’s pushing in vain until Kurt bears down
and swallows more of him up, hips jerking back little by little, setting his
own pace. He moans and gasps and moves, and finally, between their combined
efforts, Blaine’s fingers are fully inside Kurt, clamped tight in the walls of
him, hot and beating.
“You feel fantastic,” Kurt gasps, and Blaine moves his fingers, stroking and
stretching. “Keep going, and then add a third when I say.”
It doesn’t take long for Kurt to demand the third finger, and it’s much easier
going, so easy that Kurt pulls off and then pushing his ass up as though
presenting.
“Enough,” he says. “Fuck me. Oil on your cock, and then push it inside me.”
Again, it is as easy as following instructions, and nothing near as simple. It
takes a few tries to line up properly, and then he needs to ask Kurt to adjust
the height of his ass to compensate for Blaine’s cock, lower than expected. But
finally, Blaine pushes down into Kurt, who is flattened and spread wide, back
arched in a graceful curve that emphasizes the musculature of his back.
He feels--he feels like what Blaine had only imagined when imagining bliss. He
feels like ultimate pleasure, the gift from gods to men for the sharing of
their bodies--Kurt is the very embodiment. He is hot, and tight, and as Blaine
sinks completely inside him, he feels--he feels complete. He feels like he
knows who he is.
“Kurt,” he says, once, wrecked, and then starts to move.
Kurt encourages him, but Blaine can’t make out the sounds. It all sounds like
babble beyond the muffle of his focus on how Kurt feels around him, the slide
of their bodies together, the sheer overwhelming multitude of physical and
emotional sensation currently bombarding him. But he can hear it, can feel the
vibrations of Kurt’s voice where his chest is against Kurt’s back, and it feels
like, yes, yes, yes.
But it’s going to be over far too quickly.
“Kurt,” Blaine says again. It’s so much, it’s-- “I need--I have to--I can’t
keep--oh, gods--”
And then he’s shoved back and Kurt pulls away from him, slowly enough but far
too quickly for Blaine’s addled senses. “Kurt, what--”
“Lie down,” Kurt instructs, and Blaine does as he’s told. Kurt lies over him
and strokes his chest, his face, his neck, kissing his eyelids and nose and
chin and cheeks and lips, over and over, soothing him. He realizes faintly that
his face is wet. “Just breathe. I know it feels like so much, sweet boy, but
you’re doing so, so well. Do you need to stop?”
“No,” Blaine says. “No, I just--Kurt--”
Kurt kisses him, fully descends his mouth upon Blaine’s, lets their tongues
glide together languorously before pulling back, looking over Blaine’s face
carefully.
Then he smirks down at Blaine, flicking a curl off Blaine’s forehead. “You
know,” he says, “we have to work on your stamina.” He rises up and straddles
over Blaine’s hips, holding Blaine’s cock steady and sitting down over it in a
steady drop. And then he smiles, and moves so, so slowly.
“Let’s see how long we can make this last.”
Kurt rides him long and slow. His body undulates like a snake dancing to his
charmer, but Blaine is the one mesmerized, and Kurt is the one playing him like
a flute. He builds Blaine high and then lets him fall low again, never letting
him sing the final note. By the time Kurt cries out and comes over Blaine’s
stomach, untouched, bringing himself to completion by bouncing on Blaine’s cock
with a hard slap slap slap of their bodies, Blaine is a writhing mess who
cannot hold off any longer.
“Please,” he begs, as Kurt clenches and pants and milks the last of his
pleasure from Blaine’s body. “Please, please let me--let me--I need to, please-
-”
“Oh, yes, sweet boy,” Kurt says, and he starts up the heavy bounce again,
rising and falling with trembling thighs and finally, finally letting Blaine
reach his peak unimpeded. “Come inside me.”
Blaine, one final time, does as Kurt commands him, his whole body tense and
tight until he passes the peak, cock throbbing inside Kurt as he spills, his
body wracking in shivering fits as he comes down from the high Kurt had sent
him to.
“Oh, sweet boy, you’re okay,” Kurt says, withdrawing Blaine from his body and
lying alongside him, drawing Blaine into his arms. “You are so wonderful. How
lucky I am to have you.”
“You would have me?” Blaine asks, feeling childish and needy but incapable of
letting this go. “Do I have you as well?”
“Of course, sweet boy,” Kurt murmurs, kissing his forehead and petting his hair
and back, and Blaine curls in and lets himself sink into Kurt, happy and
emotional. “I am done resisting you. Didn’t I say I can’t say no to you once?”
“Yes.”
“Well then. Here we are.”
“Why can I not have this always?”
“Why can’t you?” Kurt asks.
“I have to marry,” Blaine says, exasperated. “I cannot have this with Rachel.”
“Well, technically you could,” Kurt says, “but I know what you mean. Rachel is
a woman. You don’t want a woman.”
“No,” Blaine says. “I feel nothing at the thought but--but revulsion. Women are
beautiful in their own way but I’ve no wish to bed them. It feels like a
betrayal of myself and my love for you--”
“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt says. “A political marriage is not a love match, and many
have had to sacrifice the latter for the former. But you will be king--you are
free to take a concubine or a lover. You’re only expected to impregnate her,
not love her.”
“I know,” Blaine says. “It all just seems so unfair. I should change the law.”
“There are reasons the laws are in place, but by all means, when you are king,
consider it,” Kurt says. “But not until you’ve learned all you can and
discussed it with--trusted advisors.”
“Can I discuss it with you?”
Kurt kisses him softly. “Another night. For now, I need you to know something.”
“What?”
“I am only contracted to be here until after this weekend, after the ball,”
Kurt says. “Countess Dalloway has not invited me to stay longer, and it would
be imprudent to cross her now. She could make life very difficult for
everybody.”
“Where will you go?” Blaine asks. “Kurt, you can’t go--”
“I will have to,” Kurt says. “I have some...unfinished obligations--”
“Please don’t go, Kurt,” Blaine pleads. His eyes are dry, his desperation
quiet, but he sits up and holds Kurt’s hands, hoping to make him feel it. “I
need you here.”
“I cannot promise anything for now,” Kurt says. “But--I promise that as soon as
my obligations are completed, I will return to you. If you still want me when
that time comes.”
“I’ll always want you,” Blaine whispers, kissing Kurt passionately. “Always,
always--”
“We’ll see,” Kurt says. “You never know what tomorrow might bring. We can talk
more after the ball, though. For now--let me hold you?”
There’s something emotional in Kurt, too, something deeper and darker.
“What is it?” Blaine asks, feeling foolish and self-centered. “Kurt?”
“We’ll talk more after the ball,” Kurt says. “For now, just let me be selfish
and spend my time loving you.”
Blaine smiles. “I can live with that.”
***** Chapter 7 *****
The night of the ball is too soon upon them, in Blaine’s opinion, but at least
he can enjoy the time before it. He and Kurt are in his rooms, and Kurt is
having a grand time dressing Blaine in his royal fingery--tunic and doublet,
breeches and hose, boots and belt, all coordinated in the colors of Blaine’s
family. His doublet is blue velvet with red embroidery, his tunic beneath it
red as blood, the high collar of the doublet hiding that, but Kurt had stared
approvingly and Blaine feels confident with it on, now. His hose and breeches
are tight and gray, his boots black, his belt clasped with the crest of Dayan.
And over his shoulders, Kurt fastens a short cloak in blue, and Blaine finally
places his own circlet crown on his head, silver for the Prince, embedded with
moonstones. One day it will be white gold with rubies and lapis lazuli.
But not until he marries.
“You look--so handsome, Blaine,” Kurt says, smiling at him longingly in the
mirror. “Would that I could whisk you away now.”
“You could,” Blaine says, but he knows instantly it’s foolishness. Kurt does
too, but he graciously ignores it.
“How do I look?” Kurt asks, and Blaine turns. He looks like a vision. He’s
wearing his own doublet, the tight sleeves bearing oval cutouts to reveal the
sleeves of the silver shirt beneath. The embroidering of the doublet is black
on black, only the light catching in the pattern revealing that there is a
pattern at all. His trousers are tight and dark grey, and his belt is black and
silver. He looks like a god of death come to reap Blaine for himself, and
Blaine would willingly go.
“You look like a dream I wish I’d had,” Blaine says, and Kurt laughs
delightedly.
“Oh, the poet has arrived,” Kurt says, taking Blaine’s arm. “Now. Before we go
to the ball, I’ve something to show you. Have you ever seen the sun set from
within the temple?”
“No,” Blaine says. The temple has a great domed ceiling of glass stained in
colorful patterns. The light in the temple shifts by the moment, and it is said
that higher communications with the gods can be reached by observing the light
at different times of day with different incenses in the air.
Kurt grins. “Then let’s go. The ball doesn’t start until sundown, we can sneak
there and watch before we’re called to our duties.”
“Okay.”
--
The temple is not empty when they arrive. Blaine hesitates, but Kurt urges him
in with a hand low on his back and shuts the great doors heavily behind them.
“Good evening,” Blaine says, etiquette training taking over his uncertainty. “A
lovely view, isn’t it?”
The two people there are elderly--a man and a woman, dressed finely, but
covered with cloaks, the hoods down. They stand and stare, the woman smiling as
though seeing Blaine has brought her happiness.
“Oh, you’ve grown,” she says. “So much since I last saw you.”
“Who--I’m sorry, madame, I’m afraid I don’t remember--”
“Of course, you were just a small child,” she says. She turns to Kurt. “Does he
know anything?”
“I’ve followed my instructions,” Kurt says quietly. Blaine blinks over at him.
“Instructions?”
“Let me explain,” Kurt murmurs, hand on Blaine’s arm, but the elderly woman
steps forward.
“No, I think we should,” she says. “There is so little time.” She turns to
Blaine. “My name is Margaret Banks, the Marquess of Lexington, and this is
Baron Martin Rogers. We were members of your father’s council.”
“Oh!” Blaine says. “I--yes, of course. I--how can I help you?”
“Get to the point, Maggie,” the baron says, scowling.
Maggie steps forward and takes Blaine’s hand. “Do you know why the council was
disbanded, my boy?”
“Not specifically,” Blaine says. “The Countess--she said something about--”
She said they were power-grubbing nobodies, but if this woman is a Marquess,
that places her above the Countess already. It no longer adds up.
“Blaine,” Kurt says gently. “These people were ousted by Countess Dalloway when
she was named your guardian and regent. She raised you on her own, rather than
with the help of the council, and--her influence is too great. We think she’s
going to hold onto power any way she can--”
“Through me?” Blaine asks. “You think she’s teaching me--how to be a king her
way?”
“We think she might, at some point,” Kurt says. “I was--I was instructed to get
to know you, to report back. And you’re so good, Blaine, you’re not corrupted
in the least. You really believe in your kingdom, but your education has been
lacking. And--you deserve better than being the tool of the Countess.”
“But she--she raised me, she’s done so much for me--”
“I’m so, so sorry, my dear boy,” Maggie says. “And I’m sorry for our deception,
but we’ve been banned from court and couldn’t seek an audience with you in the
traditional manner. Kurt’s been a sort of charge of mine for a long time, ever
since his father became ill. And when we heard your education had reached the
level of maturity it had, we knew we had a chance. We...we arranged for Kurt to
be your tutor.”
The world feels cold. His guardian, the woman who had been as good as a mother
for nearly a decade now. And his tutor, his lover, his love, had been deceiving
him all this time.
“Blaine, my feelings are true,” Kurt whispers urgently, stepping before him and
seizing his shoulders, speaking close and warm. “Everything I have said has
been true, only the manner of my hiring has been a deception. Please.”
Blaine needs to breathe. He steps back and addresses Maggie. “What do you want
from me?”
“Reestablish the council,” she says. “You are old enough now to utilize your
power. The Countess remains your regent until your eighteenth birthday, so we
have her for two more years unless you marry, at which time you’ll
automatically assume the crown.”
“And I suppose that’s what you’ll require me to do,” Blaine says. His stomach
is a stone, and the world feels unreal, like he’s breathing bad air and
hallucinating everything.
“You are already unofficially betrothed to the Lady Rachel,” Martin chimes in.
“She’s a splendid match, and a sweet girl. A little much sometimes, but--”
“Oh, hush,” Maggie says. “She’s lovely. And yes, the perfect match for you.”
“No,” Blaine whispers, and Kurt takes his hand.
“Blaine, it was always going to be Rachel,” he says. “Your father arranged it
before his death. It was always her. You just needed to be old enough, and--and
educated. And you have been.”
“By you?” Blaine asks, and Kurt nods. He’s clearly close to tears, and Blaine’s
heart aches for him. “And--and that was your only lie? How you came to educate
me, and why you were there?”
“Yes,” Kurt says desperately. “I never lied about how I felt for you. If
anything--I lied to them.”
“And we have to talk about that, dear,” Maggie says, not unkindly.
“We will,” Kurt says. He turns back to Blaine. “Please forgive me. It was all
for you, for your good.”
“I think it’s time I started deciding my own good,” Blaine says. He takes a
breath, and looks up at Maggie. “I’ve made my decision.”
“Of course, my dear,” Maggie says. “We will follow whatever you decide.”
“I will reinstate the council,” Blaine says. “And I will--I will marry the Lady
Rachel.”
Maggie claps her hands. “Oh, my dear--”
“But.”
The three of them pause, and Blaine savors the moment. Perhaps he is born to
power after all.
“I wish to review the members of the council,” Blaine says, “and instate or
remove members as I see fit. I have two I’ve already considered and wish to
add.”
“Of course, my boy,” Maggie says. “Whom would you like?”
“I would like the Countess Dalloway on the council,” Blaine says. Maggie opens
her mouth, but he holds up a hand. “She has been my advisor for most of my
life, and I won’t discard her until I have proof of any allegations against
her. As it is, all I’ve been told is that she has picked what education I
received, and that is easily remedied. She has strong opinions, clearly, and
sometimes it’s important to hear other sides to any story. Her disagreements
with your policies will strengthen them if they are sound, and weaken them if
they are weak. She is still useful, and still the closest thing I have to a
parent.”
Maggie nods. “Very well. And the other?”
“I want Kurt.”
“Blaine,” Kurt says, “only nobles sit the council--”
“Then it’s time to change that,” Blaine says. “I will be king. I will choose my
council. Or I will elevate you and grant you titles for your loyal service.”
“That will be acceptable,” Maggie says. “But I have to insist that it happen
only after Kurt has completed one more task.”
“Task?”
“Kurt has a debt,” Maggie says. “And he has agreed to pay it off with certain
services.”
“You’ve--bought him?” Blaine asks.
“I insisted on paying them back, Blaine,” Kurt says. “I offered the only thing
I had, and that was myself. Maggie saved my family, and I wasn’t going to pay
it off in the traditional manner. No offense, Maggie,” Kurt says smilingly.
“Oh, it’s my greatest regret,” she says teasingly, and Kurt laughs. “But in all
seriousness, Blaine, I would let it go, but Kurt was adamant about signing a
contract. He’s contracted for five tasks to aid the crown and the council, and
this was his third.”
“I have two more,” Kurt says. “And I’ll complete them before I take any other
jobs.” Kurt sighs. “This--this keeps me off the streets and out of the
brothels, Blaine. No matter how well I did and how business savvy my employers,
I was still nothing more than a courtesan, and I didn’t get into that life by
choice. This way, my body is still my own.”
“I could pay back your debt,” Blaine says, “I could--”
“No,” Kurt says. “You won’t. I will work it off, and then--then I’ll come and
be on your council, if that’s what you truly want. I can’t imagine why.”
“Kurt, you’ve taught me so much more than what you were hired for,” Blaine
says. “I trust you, and I trust your view of the world. You--you’re a person,
and you said that a kingdom is its people. I need that opinion in my council.”
Kurt laughs. “You need a commoner.”
“I need you.”
Kurt clears his throat, evidently embarrassed. “When--when I’ve completed my
contract with Maggie, I’ll come back.”
“I won’t keep him away long,” Maggie says, smiling knowingly. “No more than a
year.”
A year apart. It hurts Blaine to think of it, but if that’s the price for
having him back, having him eventually stay and be near to Blaine--
“Very well,” Blaine says. “So we’re in agreement.”
“Yes,” Maggie says. “Let’s leave it there for now. We can talk more, if you’d
allow us back here some time to do so.”
“Consider your ban lifted,” Blaine says. “We’re having a ball now--would you
like to attend? You’re more than welcome.”
“I think we’ll make ourselves scarce until you can speak to Countess Dalloway,”
Maggie says. “Unless you’d like us to do so on your behalf?”
“No, I’ll handle that,” Blaine says. “I’ll rely on you soon enough, I’m sure.”
***** Chapter 8 *****
“Blaine!” June says, reaching out both hands for him. “Where have you been--”
“Let’s dance, shall we?” Blaine says, taking one hand and kissing it in
greeting.
“Oh, you know how to spoil an old woman,” she replies with a smile, following
him out onto the floor to open the dancing. Blaine leads her around the floor--
at this, at least, he’s been educated amply.
“Countess, I have something to speak to you about,” Blaine says. “And you
should know sooner rather than later.”
“Of course, my dear, what is it,” June says.
“I’m reinstating the council,” Blaine says. “I wish you to be on it.”
June falters for a moment, but picks herself back up within a second, hardly a
stammer in their steps. “You know the council was disbanded for a reason--”
“And I shall welcome both sides to tell me their sides of the story together so
that we may avoid further disputes,” Blaine says. He feels more power than he
ever has with her--his back is straighter, his gaze stronger, he has no doubt
in himself now. He wonders if this is what she tried to avoid. “But the council
will resume as soon as it’s settled, and I wish you to take a spot on it.”
“You’ve spoken to some old council members, then.”
“I have.”
“That damn Hummel boy did it, didn’t he?” June asks. Her smile is completely
gone now, not held up for appearances. She must be truly upset, though her tone
and dancing remain even. “He was the wrong sort to hire, we should’ve got you a
girl--”
“Hiring Kurt for me was the best thing you have ever done for this kingdom,”
Blaine says with absolute certainty. “It’s because of him that I have the
courage to do what is best for my kingdom.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Then I have the courage to take the chance,” Blaine says. “But I will be king
and it is time I acted like it. I’m not a boy anymore, to be lead around by the
nose. Not by you, not by the council, not by Kurt. I lead myself first, and I
will use that to lead the kingdom.”
“Well…” June breaks away and curtsies the end of the dance. “At least I’ll be
here to see it. I won’t let them run over the throne again.”
“I’ll handle that part,” Blaine says, bowing. “Now. Point me to the Lady
Rachel. I have a queen to court.”
June smiles. “So you’ve come around.”
“To a political match?” Blaine asks quietly. “Yes. It’s necessary. But I won’t
put you under any illusion that I will love her, nor will I do so with her. She
must agree to the match knowing that my heart belongs to another.”
The Countess looks like she wants to say more, but she simply nods. “She’s
lingering with her father by the east wall, just beyond the crest.”
Blaine nods in return, and turns, spotting a pretty young woman and two older
men just past the crest. He makes his way over, smiling as they turn to him.
“Your majesty,” one of the men says, bowing. “Might I introduce myself, I’m--”
“Duke Berry,” Blaine says. “And his lovely daughter Rachel. Of course. It’s a
pleasure--though I don’t know your friend.”
“This is my husband, Hiram,” Duke Berry says. “We wed after Rachel’s mother
passed away, gods rest her.”
Blaine nearly chokes on his own breath, only a single clear of the throat
saving him from severe embarrassment.
“Oh, we know it’s not usual,” Hiram says. “But there is no law against it--”
“Of course not,” Blaine says. “I find it--heartening. That you love openly.”
The Duke’s eyes light up in a strange way, and he looks Blaine over with a new
attentiveness. Blaine, however, turns to Rachel.
“My lady, I hope you’re enjoying the ball.”
“Oh, I am,” Rachel says, grinning. “It’s much different than the balls in
dreary old Lima.”
“Well, perhaps you can stay some time, and enjoy more of the capitol,” Blaine
says, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “For now, would you honor me
with a dance?”
She follows him out, and they begin their dance. Rachel is a splendid dancer,
and Blaine says so.
“Oh, thank you,” she says. “A good partner helps, of course. But I’ve had many
dance instructors over the years.”
“I can only assume they couldn’t keep up with you,” Blaine says, and Rachel
laughs.
“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but--” Blaine laughs, and Rachel grins. “Now. Your
Majesty--”
“Blaine.”
“Blaine,” she says. “Can we be honest with each other?”
“I think that’s best,” Blaine says. “We know why we’re both here.”
“Of course,” Rachel says. “And I have to agree with my fathers, it’s a splendid
match for me. And there are perks for you as well--my father is powerful.”
“He is.”
“So shall we get to know each other, then?” Rachel asks, smiling a little
sadly. “If we’re to be married.”
“I think we should start with one thing,” Blaine says. “Do you want to marry
me?”
Rachel blinks, and then smiles. “Of course I do--”
“Honestly,” Blaine says.
She clears her throat, looking around, at anything but him, her eyes shining.
“I would--I would have wished another fate for myself.”
“There’s someone else,” Blaine guesses. He knows that look in her eyes--
“One of our guards,” she admits in a whisper.
“I find myself in need of some new guards,” Blaine says. “And a queen should
have some familiar faces around her, don’t you think?”
Rachel stares up at him with huge, hopeful brown eyes. “Are you saying--”
“It’s only fitting that you have a guard on your door at night,” Blaine says.
“You’ll only have to excuse my late sessions with one of my council members. I
value his opinion greatly, and we will be discussing policy often.”
Rachel smiles again, and this time it’s sincere. “I think--that sounds
reasonable. We would, of course, have to have children at some point.
Legitimate children,” she adds hastily.
“For the good of the kingdom, and if you are willing, yes,” Blaine says. “It
would be prudent to ensure the line of succession.”
“Very well then,” Rachel says. “We can figure out the timeline in due course.”
“I can’t believe we’ve negotiated all this here,” Blaine lets himself say, and
Rachel laughs.
“Well, it’s best out of the way,” she says, curtsying away. “We’ll have to
discuss more, your majesty, but I think we can safely return to our respective
elders with the news.”
“I agree,” Blaine says. He takes her hand and kisses it again. “Thank you.”
“And you, your majesty,” Rachel says, curtsying again before returning to her
fathers.
Blaine turns away, and spots Kurt across the ballroom. He makes his way over,
and Kurt smiles at his approach.
“Kurt,” Blaine says. “You’ll never guess--”
“You looked splendid out there,” he says. And something is wrong--his jaw is
too tight, his throat works nervously. “You make a wonderful couple.”
Blaine coughs, looks around them. “Kurt, you know--”
“Of course,” he says. “We can talk more tonight. But--I should tell you I’ll be
going soon, to my room. To pack.”
“Pack?”
“The Countess just paid me in full for the services I’ve completed,” Kurt
explains. “I’m to leave the castle by morning.”
Blaine steps in and puts a hand on Kurt’s elbow. “Go to my rooms tonight. You
can pack in the morning, no one will throw you out.”
“Blaine--”
“One more night. Please.”
Kurt nods and steps away. “Very well, your majesty. I hope you have a good
evening--I’ll be retiring now.”
He finishes off his drink, and before Blaine can stop him, he weaves his way
through a small crowd and disappears from sight.
“Your majesty!” someone calls, and Blaine can’t linger any longer. Duty first,
and then hopefully Kurt will be waiting for him, just as Blaine intends to wait
for him.
--
It’s nearly midnight by the time Blaine makes it back to his rooms, and Kurt is
sitting in the wide bergère by the fireplace. He’s reclined back, legs
stretched out before him, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his hands
intertwined before him. His doublet is undone and hanging open, revealing the
thin silver tunic beneath. He barely moves when Blaine comes in--only his eyes
acknowledge him, by darting up to his face and looking hard.
“Kurt,” Blaine says. It’s all he can say--they both know this is goodbye, and
Blaine doesn’t think either of them are willing to say it, even if it’s
temporary. So he doesn’t do it, and he doesn’t expect Kurt to. Instead, he
shucks off his own doublet and rests one knee on the chair beside Kurt’s hip,
lowering himself to straddle over Kurt’s lap.
Kurt’s hands drop to Blaine’s hips, but otherwise he remains still, just
looking stoically up at Blaine’s face. “You’ve established your engagement?”
“I haven’t proposed yet,” Blaine says. “But yes. Rachel and I agreed.”
Kurt nods, and then pulls Blaine down by the neck for a searing kiss.
“Even when you’re with her,” Kurt whispers. “You will be mine?”
“Even then,” Blaine says.
“And if I am with someone else, in my work for Maggie?”
“Always.”
Their kiss is even more heated, now, deep as Blaine threads his hands into
Kurt’s hair, takes over and kisses Kurt with everything he has, tilting Kurt’s
head back and throwing himself into it. And Kurt welcomes him readily, one hand
at the back of Blaine’s neck, the other clutching at the back of his shirt,
fingers scrabbling to get Blaine closer.
“Fuck me,” Blaine says, letting Kurt ravish his throat. “Please? Want you
inside me, this time.”
Kurt bites him in response, and Blaine arches with the sharp shock of pain that
recedes quickly under Kurt’s kisses and licks, soothing the sore spot at the
joint of his neck and shoulder.
“Please, Kurt--”
“Yes,” Kurt says. “Yes.” And he pulls Blaine back down.
They fuck in the chair. Blaine retrieves the oil as Kurt shoves down his pants,
leaves them tight around his thighs, because Blaine is back before he can take
them off completely and there are priorities. Blaine, completely naked, climbs
back into Kurt’s lap, and Kurt opens him sedulously, arm working slow between
their bodies. And then finally, Blaine takes Kurt in hand, holds him steady,
and sinks down onto him, gasping and moaning into the darkness, lit only by the
fire beside them, glimmering off the sweat of their skin that smears where they
touch, leaving evidence behind of their fingertips and palms and legs and lips.
“Come back to me,” Blaine says, body twinging as he tries to keep going, tries
to rise and fall like Kurt did, but his thighs quiver and his back aches and it
feels too good, too much, to try to focus on something as complicated as
moving. “Will you come back to me?”
Kurt gathers Blaine into his arms and shifts from the chair, kneels heavily to
the floor and lowers Blaine down, lying into Blaine’s arms and fucking him
there, right there on the ground as Blaine clings to him.
“Yes,” Kurt says, finally. “Yes, I’ll come back--whenever I can, I’ll come
back--oh--”
“Kurt,” Blaine moans. “Kurt--”
Someone could hear. Someone could roam the halls in their drunkenness and hear,
there are still so many people, but Blaine sobs high and hard as Kurt fucks
into him again and again, holding Blaine’s hips up and fucking him so that the
universe explodes inside him with every thrust. Let them hear; let them know.
Blaine is with the man he loves.
“Kurt,” he says, tears on his face. “Kurt, I’m close--Kurt, please--”
“Just a little more, sweet boy,” Kurt rasps, breathing hard. “Just keep going a
little longer--see if you can come for me just like this--”
“I don’t know, Kurt--”
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Kurt whispers. “Just a little more, sweet boy, I
promise--”
Blaine lets it happen, lets himself float in it, just lets his body take the
pleasure, even when it seems to be too much, and slowly, he finds himself
winding up, up, up, pressure building in his groin like--like--
“Oh, gods, I’m going to come,” he gasps. “Oh, Kurt--don’t stop, don’t stop--ah,
ah, ah!”
Kurt fucks him through it, as he splatters comes all the way up to his
collarbone, and then there’s a sudden slide of warmth and wetness in Kurt’s
movements, and Blaine realizes he’s come as well. He’s feeling Kurt, spilled
inside him, leaking out as Kurt grinds gently through the mess before pulling
out softly and collapsing into Blaine’s arms.
After several long minutes, the crackle of the fire and their slowing breaths
accompanied by hammering hearts easing down, Kurt whispers, “I’m going to miss
you.” And Blaine bites his lip not to cry, shaking with it until Kurt kisses
his cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Blaine gasps, and lets himself cry.
--
They sleep soundly through the night, and only when the sun rises does Blaine
stir. Kurt is already awake in his arms, holding Blaine close and stroking his
hair off his forehead.
“I have to go,” Kurt says, kissing Blaine gently.
“I know.” Blaine sniffs, and kisses Kurt once more. “Send me letters?”
“Every day that I can,” Kurt replies, and then he slips from Blaine’s arms.
Blaine cries again, softly this time, as Kurt dresses behind him, and his
cheeks are wet when Kurt returns and kisses him one more time, leaning over him
from behind.
“Soon, sweet boy,” Kurt says. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
And then he slips away.
***** Chapter 9 *****
A year and a half can feel like a long time, in youth. But it passes.
Blaine has been married for a week--not exactly marital bliss, but as close to
it as he and Rachel can come. They’re friends, at least, and close, fostered
that way first with letters, then visits, then a permanent stay from Rachel all
the way up until their recent wedding. The only mar on it has been the wedding
night, which was awkward and necessary, as royal weddings require proof by
tradition. But they’d gotten it done, with much nervousness and finally
drunkenness to do the deed. The next morning, they’d sworn never to speak of it
and taken the soiled bedsheets to be done with the matter.
And now, one more step to being King of Dayan. The coronation.
It’s been in the planning stages for half a year now, timed to happen just
after his wedding to his future queen. That being done, the very next weekend,
Blaine stands in his rooms, staring at the mirror, wishing that Kurt was behind
him.
Instead, it’s Rachel.
“And your cloak,” she says, fitting a great red cloak trimmed with fur about
his shoulders, thrown over his blue velvet jerkin over a flowing white shirt,
black pants and great black boots so that he can ride through the city after
his crowning to greet his people. His hair is slicked with some oil Rachel had
insisted upon, tamed into a gentle wave from his usually riotous curls. He
looks--like a king.
“Are you ready?” Rachel asks.
Blaine nods, looking himself over and sighing. “As I’ll ever be.”
She takes his arm and grins at him. “Oh, Blaine. If I weren’t already in love
with someone else, and if you were in any way inclined--”
“We could be married?” Blaine jokes, and Rachel laughs. Thank the gods this is
the woman he was intended for--he could not survive without her cooperation and
companionship.
“You’re so bad,” she says. “Come on. Tell me I look beautiful and then we can
go.”
She’s wearing a stunning red and gold gown with a long blue cape held at her
throat with a sapphire brooch. Her hair is piled on top of her head, held up
and twined with a huge length of fine gold chain that Blaine had bought for her
himself.
“You look beautiful,” he says sincerely. “Are you ready?”
“Of course,” she says with a wide smile, and Blaine let her lead him out by the
arm.
--
The coronation is long and dull, but at the end, the weight of the crown about
his brow, Blaine gets to walk through his court until he finally can mount his
horse and be off to the city, and he honestly cannot wait for that part. He
loves his people, and they love him.
But the nobles to greet first.
“Your majesty,” they say, one after the other, bowing and curtsying to him in
waves as he passes by with his Queen. Barons, counts, earls, the Duke Berry and
his husband, the Countess Dalloway, Baron Martin and Marquess Maggie. And--
“Your majesty.” Blaine can only catch a glimpse of him before he bows, and is
lost to the crowd, but he knows that voice.
Kurt.
Rachel must sense his tension, because she squeezes his arm and grins at him.
Gods, she knows, and must have known all along, was this planned?
He can’t know for sure as he walks away--it could have been a fancy brought on
by longing. And he can’t know as he mounts his horse and rides through the
city, and he can’t know as the crowds cheer him and he has to grin and wave and
greet them. He can’t know for three hours of this, until he finally returns to
the palace and runs through the halls to get to his rooms, servants and nobles
alike laughing as he hurries away, joking behind him about uncomfortable rides
and heavy clothing. Let them think whatever they like--he needs to find Kurt.
He needs to believe Kurt is waiting for him.
And gods, he is. He’s sitting in that same chair by the same fireplace, sipping
a glass of wine when Blaine barges in.
“Kurt,” he says, unfastening his cloak and letting it drop as he runs forward.
Kurt stands just in time to catch him, laughing as he receives Blaine’s kiss.
Blaine nearly yanks him to the ground. It’s been too long--eight months since
Kurt last saw him, since Kurt went outside the kingdom to gather intelligence
on a neighboring kingdom. And the time before that had been scarce as Kurt
worked in the city with Maggie, only making it to the palace on weekends to
visit Blaine then. But it had been more than this months-long drought, this
extended absence where only cryptic letters could comfort him, only whispers of
their love allowed.
“Oh, sweet boy,” Kurt says, overjoyed, holding Blaine close and hugging him
tight as Blaine attacks his neck and shoulders and his newly freckled face,
kissing him everywhere he can reach. “I missed you--”
“You’re done now,” Blaine says. “Right? You can stay this time?”
“I am done,” Kurt says. He steps back. “Blaine, I should tell you about my time
in the south--”
“I don’t care,” Blaine says. “I don’t care what you did--I’ll listen to you, of
course, but I still want you, Kurt--please tell me you’ll stay--”
Kurt’s eyes fill with tears. “Are you sure? Blaine, I had to--”
“Nothing you could have had to do would make me love you less,” Blaine says.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Kurt. But I’m yours.”
Kurt sniffs and pulls Blaine in, kissing him hard. “Then I’ll stay,” he says.
“I’ll stay. As long as you want.”
“Well, you’ll have to,” Blaine says. “You’re a council member, remember? And a
lord.”
“Oh, no, Blaine, what did you do?”
“I haven’t done it yet, but you can’t stop me--”
“A lord, what on earth of--”
“I don’t care, pick something,” Blaine says. “I’ll throw out whoever’s already
the lord and make him clean your privvies--”
Kurt laughs and kisses him again, and this time Blaine lets himself pull Kurt
to the ground. He ignores Kurt’s protests of, not in these clothes, Blaine! He
ignores the duties he should be attending as king. He ignores the entire world,
and loses himself in Kurt, allowing himself to be simply present, just body
against body. He lets himself find his pleasure, and encourage Kurt’s own,
right there on the floor, echoing the night of their goodbyes those eighteen
months ago. But this time, it’s a promise to never say goodbye again.
When they’re finished, sweating in their mussed clothing, torsos hastily bared,
cocks lying flaccid and damp in the mess they’d made, Kurt laughs. “Fine,” he
says. “Then I’ll stay. I’ll council you. I’ll lord over something, as long as I
get to stay in the palace and let my estates be run by someone else.”
“Of course,” Blaine says. “And this makes you a rich man, you know. You could
always move your father to your estates--”
Kurt kisses him again, deep and passionate. “I love you so much, Blaine. Never
let me leave again.”
“Never,” Blaine says. “We are meant to be together.”
“Just like that, huh?”
Blaine smiles. “Just like that.”
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