Look confident and sure. Be sensual.

Kurt lay on the mat of furs and cushions inside the tent, incense drifting in the air, soft candlelight casting a warm, golden glow over everything and dancing from a thick scale of a dragon egg to the other, the chest secluded in a corner. He was bare-chested, with only a leather skirt covering him and the echo of Santana's voice in his head to keep him company.

You're proud and beautiful. You like your body.

It was starting to feel ridiculous, even more so when it occurred to him that, maybe, Khal Blaine was not going to come. But he reassured himself immediately: his husband never missed a night. And soon enough, the familiar shuffling coming from the entryway made him know that it was time.

Khal Blaine appeared, sweat-slick skin gleaming while shadows danced on it, following the strong lines of his body, his muscled arms, the pronounced V that led inside his riding leggings. It was marked with tattoos just like the rest, two neat black lines that curved themselves around his sharp hipbones, and Kurt wanted to know where they ended, wanted to undress him slowly, to see him. He wanted to know this man, no more than a boy, really, whose life was bound with his even though he hadn't wanted it to be.

His husband's eyes raked over his body and slowly lost their beautiful color, hooded with desire, and Kurt licked his lips and spread his legs a little bit more, a silent invitation. The khal strode toward him in one swift motion and grabbed him by the hips like he did every night, trying to turn him around.

"No" Kurt said, gripping his wrist softly. The khal looked at him questioningly, his head tilted to the side, before trying again, easily overpowering his grasp.

"No" Kurt repeated sharply, and this time, the Dothraki stopped and sat back on his heels, a puzzled expression on his face. He didn't look angry, just... lost. Kurt thought he understood, in a way. He doesn't know any better.

"Outside" he said in Dothraki – Santana was teaching him the language, too; she said he was a quick learner, since only two weeks had passed. It was rough and straightforward, just like the people who spoke it; deprived of courtesies and kind words so the concepts were delivered exactly for what they were, no space for rhetoric. Dothraki didn't say thank you, you're welcome, may I? because a Dothraki never asked for things and never gave them easily.

Kurt took his husband by the hand, the palm warm and soft and somehow reassuring, and their fingers intertwined in the sweetest way. He led the confused man outside the tent and gestured for him to sit on a small patch of grass, the other tents scattered all around them. Anyone could see, if they were awake. Kurt wanted them to. Things of importance had to happen under the open sky, and the stars and the pale moon were there to watch them, too. Kurt knew Khal Blaine would understand.

He sat on the Dothraki's thighs and reached for the opening of his trousers. He could see he was already hard underneath, and he could feel the man's eyes boring holes into his skin. He peeled the garment off, sliding it down to Khal Blaine's ankles and throwing it away. When he looked back, he couldn't help but blush at the sight of another man's cock for the first time, but he regained his composure quickly.

Don't act like a fumbling virgin. Take the lead.

Kurt looked up and held the khal's gaze. He was gripping the grass tightly, Kurt could tell by the way his jaw was tensed and the muscles of his arms were strung tight like a bow. He was trying to restrain himself from touching. Beads of sweat were sliding down his temple, where a beautiful, intricate tribal pattern framed his eyebrow down to his cheekbone. The rest of his face was still unmarked, ready for other fights to come, and Kurt felt almost sad thinking about an innocence that had probably never existed in the first place.

Without looking away, Kurt sat up and put his hands on Khal Blaine's shoulders for leverage. He was naked underneath the skirt, and prepared already. When he lowered himself, his body welcoming the already known intrusion, Khal Blaine opened his mouth in surprise but no sound came out, and his hands left the grass to grip his hips.

Dothraki men always take women from behind. They never look each other in the eyes.

So Kurt looked him in the eyes and lifted himself up, one of his hands tangling in the wild, untamed curls, and the khal moaned and tried to put him back down, to hold him still and push up into him, but Kurt was determined to do all the work. After a brief struggle for dominance, Khal Blaine surrendered, the pleasure clearly too strong to fight any longer. His arms linked around Kurt's middle while he moved, his hips going up and down and then in circle, smirking triumphantly when he felt the cock inside of him harden and the arms around him tighten, one hand scratching desperately at his back.

It was as if his own pleasure was dulled, even though it was there; all his attention focused on making his husband feel good and prove himself to him. Khal Blaine's face was pressed up against his neck, his pants and grunts grazing Kurt's skin, and when Kurt briefly looked up from the mass of curls he was gripping, he could sense almond-shaped eyes shining in the darkness from the openings of the tents, watching him claim his khal, his king, his man, and the thought made him harder and bolder.

He twisted Khal Blaine's head back and kissed him, damp limps gasping against his in surprise and nails biting into his back.

Dothraki never kiss.

It wasn't the first kiss he had always dreamt of, but he realized that he wasn't that boy anymore, and dreams were for fools and children. He kissed his husband deep and frantic, his free hand sneaking down to take himself in hand while his tongue claimed entrance against the other man's mouth, and when their tongues met and danced around one another, Khal Blaine moaned helplessly like a wounded animal and came inside of him.

Kurt pulled back and stroked himself harder, but Khal Blaine – Blaine, it was Blaine, just Blaine underneath it all – followed his mouth with his and bit his lower lip sweetly, and the sudden tenderness made Kurt gasp and come with a whimper, muffled by a head-spinning kiss.

When they came back to their tent and lay down to sleep, his khal held him through the night for the first time.

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When he woke up, he was alone. He knew Blaine was always the first to rise, to make sure his people was packing things up properly, but he had never slept surrounded by the heat of another body, and he had never known how much he would have missed it afterwards. He felt sated and content, and for the first time in his life, happy.

There was a Dothraki waiting outside his tent when he came out of it, dressed and ready for the long ride of the day. He had many tattoos on his skin, but there was an ugly pink burn on his forearm, baring his only defeat for the world to see.

"Khal Blaine wants you to ride with him" the man said in his language, but slowly, so Kurt could catch up. Kurt beamed.

"What's your name?"

"Wes" was the answer. "I am one of the khal's bloodriders, khalees."

Kurt felt the impulse to say thank you, then he remembered that there wasn't a way to say it and clamped his mouth shut.

"Bring me to him" he said instead.

When he reached Blaine at the beginning of the line, riding his silver and white horse and followed by his three personal slaves, his husband turned and looked at him for the first time during daytime, and even though he didn't have any particular expression, his honey eyes seemed to whisper a secret praise.

Sebastian was nowhere to be found. It was a beautiful day.

When they began to march, the slaves and the immense army following behind, Kurt realized that Blaine couldn't know that he was learning the language, so he wasn't going to start a conversation with him.

"Where is my brother?" he asked then, out of the blue. He didn't know what else to ask, and he couldn't formulate more complicated questions than that one yet.

Blaine turned slightly on top of his horse, surprised, but he didn't show it for long. He didn't show anything for long, in public. Kurt remembered him at the wedding, tapping lightly along with the music, smirking secretly at something, but never doing more than that. He was a king, and kings hid their feelings behind safe walls.

"He is in the back, with Finn Hudson. I don't want him here where my khalees should be."

It was hard to keep up, and Kurt told himself that he'd try to talk Blaine into learning the Common Tongue one day. But when he understood, the praise made a warm, fluttering feeling spread in his chest. My khalees.

Again, the first instinct was to say Thank you for letting me. He tried to convey the message in another way.

"I'm glad you let me."

The khal didn't answer and turned again to look ahead of him, but Kurt swore he could see an almost invisible smirk on his lips, a secret smile just for him to catch a glimpse of.

A comfortable silence settled between them, but Kurt soon realized that he should worry about what Blaine had just said. Sebastian had to be angry, to say the least, and the thought scared him, there was no denying it. He had to do something to cheer his brother up.

"Rachel?" he called, turning slightly to see how far she was, since slaves weren't allowed to ride. The girl reached him in a hurry, breathless and panting.

"Yes, khalees?" she answered, now walking alongside his horse.

"When we stop to eat, I want you to go to my brother and invite him to have lunch with me. Tell him I have good news for him."

Rachel looked slightly scared at the thought, but as the good slave she was, she didn't say anything and nodded solemnly.

"As you wish, khalees."

After a couple of minutes, a gruff but deep, beautiful voice reached his left ear.

"What did you say to your slave?" Blaine asked in Dothraki, surprising him all over again that day. Kurt bit his lip, trying to find the words. He could just summon Finn to speak for him and translate what Blaine wanted to say, but the truth was, he really wanted to talk to Blaine.

"I asked her to find Sebastian. I want to eat with him."

Whether Blaine looked confused because of what he had said, or because of how badly he had said it, Kurt didn't know, but he found the answer right away.

"I wanted my khalees to eat with me" Blaine declared with a hint of disappointment, and it was Kurt's time to be surprised. "I don't like Sebassian."

Kurt had to stifle a laugh at the mistake, his hand covering his mouth for a moment. Adorable was the last word you could come up with when looking at the khal, and yet. He found himself almost forgetting that he had been wed to a murderer.

There's nothing scarier than a man who murdered his own blood.

Almost.

"I- I will be happy to eat with my khal tonight, if that is okay with him" Kurt said hesitantly. Please let it be okay with him.

Blaine seemed to think about it for a moment, his jaw tensed and his hands tighter on the reins, but then he relaxed.

"It is" he said gruffly, and Kurt smiled in relief. The day couldn't get any better.

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Apparently, it sure could get worse.

"How dare you?!" Sebastian shouted, stepping into Kurt's tent and dragging Rachel behind him forcefully, his hand gripping her wrist in a tight grip. She had a black eye and a red cut on her lower lip, and for the first time, Kurt felt the urge to hurt him. And scream. And cry.

Sebastian threw Rachel on the ground between them, the poor girl landing on all fours and shaking like a leaf, tears streaking her cheeks.

"Sebastian!" Kurt shouted back, circling the table he had set for their lunch. There was goat cheese and roasted lamb, honey-flavored milk, grapes. "Why did you hit her?"

Sebastian scowled at him, panting from the effort of restraining himself, and then looked down at Rachel with a disgusted expression. The slave shrank in on herself, curling in a ball on the floor.

"You sent her to command me to have lunch with you! Command me! The dragon! The rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms forced to the end of the caravan by a savage and then commanded by his whore's slave!"

Kurt wanted to answer to that, You sold me, you bastard, how dare you call me a whore now?, but he bit his tongue to reconsider, because Rachel was still on the ground and Sebastian was far too close to her, and with a sword attached to his hip. He had to get her out of the tent.

"Seb, I just asked her to invite you to have lunch with me. I'm sure she just spelled it wrong, didn't you, Rachel?" he said slowly, looking down at the slave purposefully and hoping she would understand what to say. Rachel stared at him, strands of long brown hair falling on her abused face.

"I- I said you wanted to have lunch with your brother. I'm sorry, so sorry, please forgive me" she pleaded, looking down again.

"See?" Kurt addressed Sebastian, a fake reassuring smile on his face. "Just a little mistake. They're slaves, after all. Rachel, leave us now; we'll talk about your punishment later."

Rachel nodded and practically crawled out of the tent, disappearing beyond the entrance, and Kurt hoped he could reach her soon and tell her that was just a lie, but it would have to wait. He followed her with his eyes, and when he looked at Sebastian again, his brother was closer to him than before, invading his personal space. A hand came up and gripped his wrist, twisting it painfully to the side.

"You think you're so clever, sending her away like that. How adorable" he mused, gripping tighter, and when Kurt reached up with his other arm to try and free himself, Sebastian caught that one too. "I'll have her hanged from a fucking tree if I feel like it."

"You won't" Kurt said, struggling. "She's mine, you gave her to me."

Sebastian chuckled.

"Yes, and I can take her back just as easily. I paid for her. But back to business: the useless thing also said you had good news for me. Did she spell it wrong, too?"

Kurt stopped, hoping that could be a way out for him.

"No, she didn't. I- I think I can convince the khal to cross the sea and fight for you. He's starting to trust me, and- Sandy said it would take time because of their traditions, but maybe-"

"Maybe what?" Sebastian spat. "You'll open your pretty legs and do the trick? That is what I sold you for, it has nothing to do with your cleverness, it was my plan. I always knew there was a little slut underneath that twelve-year-old face, it was just a matter of time before you found a way to control him with sex."

Kurt gaped at him, feeling used and hurt and betrayed all over again.

There's nothing scarier than a man who murdered his own blood.

But what about a man who treated his own blood like that? And what about Kurt, who felt the sudden need to... to...

Sebastian left one of his arms to brush his own hair away from his forehead, absolutely careless and sure of himself. "Now, the next time your mouth is not full of cock, could you please ask him-"

Kurt's free arm groped around blindly behind him were the table was, coming in contact with something long and sharp, and when it appeared between them, Kurt was shocked as much as Sebastian to find a knife in his hand. But Sebastian masked his shock quickly.

"You wouldn't" he said, a mocking smile on his face, and Kurt almost lost it.

"Let go of me" he said through gritted teeth, the knife closer to Sebastian's cheek now. He knew his brother could still reach for his sword, but he was too sure of himself and honestly thought that Kurt wouldn't hurt him.

"Make me" was the answer, and Kurt made him. The knife cut through Sebastian's skin from his cheekbone downwards, a short red line, but deep; Kurt knew it'd leave a scar. Sebastian howled in pain and took a step back, clutching his bleeding cheek with both hands, the shock clear on his face.

"If you ever touch me or one of my slaves again, I'll have Khal Blaine take matters into his own hands!" Kurt screamed, his knuckles white with the force of his grasp around the knife. Sebastian seemed to briefly consider what to do, and for once, did the right thing in the end. He fled. Kurt wasn't that scary, he knew, but the prospect of being punished by the most terrifying Dothraki alive surely was. Plus, he was sure his brother wanted to take care of the wound as soon as possible, as fond of his face as he was.

Kurt let the knife fall to the ground, and then he fell, too, his wrists pulsing where purple fingerprints were starting to blossom on his skin. His vision became blurry and he realized dully that he was crying softly, but he didn't know if it was fear, pain or rage. Maybe a mix of all three. He also didn't know why he was suddenly crawling towards the chest containing the eggs, nor why he felt the need to clutch them tightly in his arms as if there was still life inside of them.

They were just rocks, hard and useless, and yet, cradling them against his chest, Kurt's heart felt warmer.

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He didn't speak all afternoon, his brain too drowned by the events of the morning to fumble with an unknown language. After getting out of the tent, he had summoned Mercedes to make sure that Rachel would be properly medicated and then he had called her too, promising her that there was no punishment in sight. When he reached his husband's side, Blaine seemed to notice his sullen mood, because after one look at him he turned and didn't say a single word. For once, Kurt was grateful. He just wanted to wash the dust away from his skin and go to sleep, but he had promised Blaine a dinner together, and he knew it was something that couldn't be rescheduled.

When night fell on the Dothraki sea, they set the tents once again and Kurt climbed into the bathtub, exhausted and on the verge of falling asleep in it. The bath was over far too soon for his liking, and he let the slaves dress him as if he was a puppet, moving his arms and legs when they prompted him to. He considered asking if they knew something about Sebastian, but he stayed silent.

Dinner with Blaine was silent, too. Kurt knew he should be excited about it, but it was as if a giant black cloud was following him, and the only thing he did was to push his food around in his plate and sip a bit of wine, feeling Blaine's eyes on him the entire time, studying him with their silent, yet powerful energy. They unsettled him. They made him feel vulnerable, and he was so tired of feeling vulnerable.

"My khalees is silent tonight."

Kurt almost dropped the glass he was picking up from the table, the khal's voice startling him from the stillness of the tent. It was a windless night, so there wasn't a noise to hear around them, unless one focused long enough to eavesdrop on what was happening in the other tents. Kurt looked up at Blaine and nodded, before lowering his gaze again.

They were sitting on pillows with their legs crossed, divided by a low wooden table, so Kurt wouldn't have been able to hear Blaine stand up, if it hadn't been for the lack of other sounds. The air itself sort of shifted and suddenly the khal was hovering over him, a hand extended for Kurt to take. Kurt did.

Blaine led him to their bed and they lay down facing each other, and Kurt was just starting to turn around and get on his stomach – he was too tired to seduce Blaine all over again, he could let him have his way one last time after all – when the shock of dry lips pressing softly against his shocked him and made him freeze.

It was so different from the night before, their first kiss hungry and desperate and Blaine falling into it only seconds after it began. This time it was slow and sweet, and Kurt felt like he was drowning in it. He sighed and let Blaine set the pace, but the kiss didn't grow bolder, and it ended all too soon.

When Blaine pulled back, he had an awed and reverent expression on his face, and Kurt lifted one of his hands on instinct to stroke his temple hesitantly, brushing the tattoo with his fingertips. He wished he knew the words to really talk to Blaine, confess him all his fears and worries, because there was something in him, something quiet and asleep underneath, that seemed to come back to life in his presence and no one else's.

"I like it" Blaine said, cradling Kurt's hand in his and stroking his pulse point with his thumb, the slight pressure sending a shiver down Kurt's spine.

"What?" Kurt asked, breathless. He felt like he could close his eyes and let this man cherish him all night without worrying about it, but he struggled against his tired eyelids.

"This" Blaine answered, bringing Kurt's hand to his mouth and kissing his wrist, and Kurt's heart fluttered like a butterfly's wings in his chest.

When Blaine began smattering kisses around his wrist, some dry, others damp and open-mouthed and bolder, Kurt allowed himself to close his eyes, leaving him to the stunning discovery of how beautiful a simple press of lips could be. But not before long, he heard a shocked gasp and felt Blaine pull back from his skin. He opened his eyes.

"What is this?" Blaine asked, turning Kurt's wrist toward him so he could see. Kurt stifled a whimper when Blaine's fingers molded themselves over the shape of Sebastian's, and Blaine let go of his arm immediately, sitting up on the furs. "What is it?!"

Kurt sat up as well and looked away, massaging his wrist slowly and thinking about what he should tell, but Blaine was smart enough to realize it on his own.

"Your brother did it" he said, and Kurt knew it wasn't a question. He nodded, eyes on the ground. When he didn't hear anything else, he dared to look up and found Blaine almost shaking with barely restrained rage, fists clenched and jaw tight, his golden eyes narrowed and his muscles straining up as if they wanted to explode out of his body. It was the scariest thing Kurt had ever seen.

"Please don't hurt me" he said in a whisper, because of course Blaine was mad at him for going at lunch with Sebastian even though it was clear that he wasn't happy with it, and for not being strong enough to defend himself – how could a man like him be attracted by someone so weak, after all?

He didn't know why, but Blaine's face shifted and crumpled as if he'd been hurt, and there were strong hands framing his face and anguished eyes looking into his, grounding him.

"You are my khalees" he whispered heatedly. "I will never hurt you. And I will send anyone who so much as touches you to the nightlands with my bare hands, because you're mine and mine only."

Kurt looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time, and when he kissed him Blaine took the lead once again, harder this time, claiming him, hands holding his head in place and tongue thrusting in and out of his mouth, and every time it went back in, Kurt thought, Yours.