“My dad’s smart,” he says. “Let’s just park and walk back.”

“Can you manage?”

“It’s not far,” Kurt says dismissively. Blaine sighs and grabs the money and their bag before helping him out.

The walk isn’t long--they didn’t park too far away--but it is necessary, as they’re less than five miles from Sebastian’s farm. By the time they circle and reach the back of the house, though, Kurt is panting and limping again.

“When this is over,” he gasps, “I’m sleeping for a week.”

“I’ll be right there to take care of you,” Blaine says. “As soon as we get inside.”

They limp up the back porch, and immediately, the door opens. Blaine can’t make out any specific features of the man holding the door open, but Kurt pulls in a breath and squeezes Blaine’s hand too hard and then he’s tripping forward--

“Dad.”

“Kurt?”

“Dad!”

They’re pulled into the dark house, and then suddenly the light is on and Kurt is pulled away, wrapped in the arms of a big man, wincing but clinging right back. He trembles visibly and folds into the embrace, laughing and sobbing in palpable relief and elation that Blaine can’t even begin to imagine.

“I can’t believe it, Kurt--”

“I’m here, I’m back--Dad--”

Both men are crying, and Blaine feels like an intruder. Kurt is home, wrapped in the arms of his father, finally safe again, and a part of Blaine feels like he just doesn’t belong in this setting. He hasn’t had a parent hug him since he was taken away from his mother, and it’s not likely that he ever will again--but he can’t begrudge Kurt this at all. Blaine can see his smile from here, and he wants Kurt to be happy. So he sets the bag down and averts his eyes, giving them a moment together uninterrupted.

What must it be like, to reunite with someone so important after so long, after so much uncertainty and fear and pain? What must it be like to be home again, to have that strength and steadiness just waiting and ready for him to return? What kind of burden is falling from Kurt’s shoulders, just knowing that his father, the most important person in his entire life, is here and he can actually reach out and touch him, reaffirming his status as the rock on which Kurt has built his entire life--

“Ow, ow--Dad--”

Blaine immediately turns back, reaching out for Kurt, whose face twists in pain as he stumbles. Burt has pulled back, his hands now on Kurt’s shoulders, and Blaine grabs Kurt’s hand where it’s reaching back to touch his back.

“Are you okay?” Blaine blurts, feeling a little stupid. He glances at Burt awkwardly and steps in to take charge of the situation, not sure how the imposing man will take it. He pulls Kurt back and gives Burt what he hopes is a reassuring look. “Let me check you out, it’s been a while--”

“What happened?” Burt asks, stepping back and looking Kurt up and down before his eyes dart between the two boys. “Kurt?”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Kurt assures. “I just--today--I--”

“Kurt’s hurt, sir,” Blaine explains, reaching for the hem of Kurt’s shirt. It’s strange, talking to him--he almost feels like he should start apologizing. Shouldn’t you? says a treacherous wisp of self-hatred within him. It’s your fault he’s like this-- “I should’ve put something on it earlier--”

“We were in a hurry, I told you not to--”

“Holy--what happened?”

Kurt’s back is revealed, and Burt’s face goes red at the sight of the hard welts. He hovers back and forth, like he doesn’t know what to do, before he steps in front of Kurt and puts his hands back on his shoulders, staring him directly in the eye.

“Did that scumbag slave dealer do this to you?” he demands. “You tell me, Kurt, and I’ll go right to New York and--”

“No, Dad, just--calm down,” Kurt says, stepping back and grimacing as Blaine helps him out of the shirt. Blaine sits him on the edge of a kitchen chair and starts looking him over, studying the tiny bits of dried blood on the shirt and the pattern of swelling over the skin. It definitely needs to be cleaned, at the very least--there’s sweat, tacky and uneven, and some lint from the shirt, and who knows where that whip had been anyway.

“Sir, do you have any ointment for this? Painkillers?” He looks up at Burt pleadingly. “We’ll explain everything, but I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure.” Burt nods, and disappears around a corner, clearly flustered.

“How are you?” Blaine asks, squeezing Kurt’s hand. Kurt smiles down at him.

“I’ll be okay,” he says, squeezing back, sniffling and wiping his eyes with his free hand. He’s stunning, even when he cries--maybe more so. He’s not poised and cool, and he no longer puts Blaine in mind of an avatar of some unknown and unknowable god of desire and beauty burst forth from his marble statue--no, now he just looks human, splotchy and wet, his nose stuffed and bright red and his eyes leaking fat tears that make his eyelashes stick together. Blaine wants to kiss him with a fervency that could scare him. “I’m just--I’m home.”

Blaine cups Kurt’s cheek and smiles up at him.

“You are.” He brushes Kurt’s cheekbone with his thumb, wiping away a stray tear. “You’re free, Kurt.”

Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand on his face and presses it in, closing his eyes and breathing deep, his smile serene.

“So are you,” he says. “We’re both free, Blaine.”

Blaine gives in and leans up and kisses him, sweet and simple, still smiling the whole time. They’re free.

“Something you got to tell me, Kurt?”

Burt raises an eyebrow at them as he enters and sets the supplies down on the table, and Blaine can’t help but smile at it--it looks like a face Kurt makes often. But the smile fades when Burt turns a baleful eye on him, and he composes himself and stays by Kurt’s side, supportive and unashamed, but truly terrified of what this man will think.

“Dad, I can explain--”

“I bet you can,” Burt says, raising his eyebrows and looking not at all impressed. “I think you’ve got a lot of things to say, so why don’t we start from the beginning?”

He sits at the table and nods, watching closely as Blaine tends Kurt’s back.

Kurt talks. He talks for a long time, starting with the night he was taken and going on until he reaches their escape. He hesitates twice--once when he gets to the part about his first night at the house, and once when he gets to his relationship with Blaine. At that point, he turns to Blaine, unsure.

“I love your son,” Blaine says readily, more than willing to take over for Kurt if he’s unsure. “I knew he was special from the first moment I saw him, and I was right. I’ll tell you now I tried very hard not to fall for him, because of the circumstances, but in the end there was nothing I could do to fight it. I’m just lucky he feels the same.”

Burt looks at him steadily. Blaine looks right back--Burt is a big guy, but he doesn’t feel threatening, not really. He’s afraid of his opinion, afraid he’ll want Blaine gone, but he trusts in Kurt and he trusts that this man will listen to his son. Kurt has said more than once that his father always listened. And from everything Kurt’s told him, first and foremost Burt thinks of his family. Blaine knows that it’s unusual, his relationship with Kurt. The age difference, and they way they met, and how long they’ve known each other--all of it would seem suspicious to him if he were a father. But he does love Kurt, and Kurt loves him, and Kurt has decided that this is what he wants. Blaine will stand by it as long as Kurt wants him, and he hopes Burt will, too.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four,” Blaine says honestly.

Burt removes his cap and rubs his head, sighing heavily.

“You love this guy, Kurt?”

Kurt nods.

“I do.”

Burt replaces his hat and sits back.

“Well, not much I can do, then,” he says. He shakes his head and breathes out in a puff. “You kept my boy safe out there, and you brought him home, and apparently he decided he wants you, so I won’t fight this. I don’t like it much, but you’re a big boy, Kurt, you can make up your own mind. Just treat each other right, okay? If you don’t, then I’ll have something to say about it.”

“He does treat me right,” Kurt replies. “He’s the only reason I’m here.”

Kurt doesn’t give details about what happened with Sebastian, but he doesn’t gloss over it, either. There’s a lot of blushing and stammering and shame on Kurt’s part; Burt covers his eyes and shakes his head on more than one occasion.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Burt says at one point. Blaine wonders if Sebastian’s even alive to kill after his head injury, but he keeps his mouth shut as Kurt keeps talking.

It’s very late by the time he finishes, and they’re all tired, but Kurt especially. He finishes with a yawn, and Blaine brushes his hair back.

“You need to sleep,” he says quietly, and Kurt nods. He looks up at Burt.

“Can we finish talking tomorrow?” he asks. Burt shuffles and sits forward.

“You can get to sleep in a minute,” he says. “I want to know where this evidence is. I’m not sleeping till I know you’re both safe. I got what you sent in the email but I want the hard copy.”

“I’ve got it here,” Blaine says, rushing over to the bag by the door and pulling out the thumb drive. He hands it over. “I’m going to take Kurt to his room now, let him get some rest.”

Burt nods.

“You get some sleep, too,” he says. “I’ve got some calls to make. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” Blaine replies sincerely. Kurt stands unsteadily behind him and Burt steps forward. He looks like he wants to hug Kurt, but instead he lays a hand on his shoulder and kisses his forehead.

“I missed you, kid,” he says, his voice shaking with emotion. “Hardest thing I ever had to face, waking up and finding you gone.”

“I’m here now,” Kurt says, tears falling down his face again. He buries his face in Burt’s neck and holds around his waist. “I missed you, Dad. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Get to bed,” Burt says, patting Kurt’s arm a little awkwardly. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

Kurt turns to Blaine, and he grabs his hand, helping him to a door in the hall that Kurt says leads to his room. They go down into the basement and Blaine undresses Kurt down to his briefs before putting him in bed.

“Stay with me?” Kurt asks, holding out his hand and looking very young, his eyes wide and pleading. Blaine slips into bed with him and holds him gently in his arms, very careful of his back. Kurt kisses him tiredly before burrowing deeper into his embrace and sighing.

“I love you,” he whispers. Blaine can’t help but smile.

“I love you, too,” he says. “Sleep.”

Burt is still in the kitchen when Blaine enters. He’s on the phone, but he acknowledges Blaine with a nod and holds up a finger for him to wait.

“Yeah--yeah--I hear you, but I’m expecting someone to do something about this. I’ve got years’ worth of evidence here. I’m sure I’m not the only one whose kid got taken, and I bet those parents would be interested to see what I’ve got.... Yes. Yes, I’ll be here. You talk to Detective Lopez, she’ll know what’s up. Yes. Thank you.”

He hangs up and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes.

“You’d think having evidence meant something to these people,” he says, and Blaine joins him at the table.

“Sebastian’s a powerful man,” he says. “But I bet if you approached another slave dealer with the information they’d be happy to help you out with their own connections. There’s always rivalry going on, and a lot of people would be thrilled to see Sebastian taken down.”

“Well, I’d rather not deal with more scum than I have to,” Burt says frankly. “I know someone who can help us, though--hopefully she’ll be able to do something, but she won’t be in till later.” He looks up at Blaine and Blaine instantly feels like he’s being dissected. “Now. What can you tell me about you? I know you were in that house with Kurt, but I don’t know much else.”

“I was born on a farm,” Blaine says. “The Lima one, actually. I was trained to be a bed slave at age thirteen, and Sebastian bought me when I was fourteen.”

“You been a slave for ten years?”

“I’ve been a slave all my life,” Blaine explains. “I’ve just belonged to Sebastian for ten years.”

“All right,” Burt says, accepting the correction without comment. “Go on.”

“There’s not much else to tell,” Blaine says. “I ran Sebastian’s harem for him for the past four years or so. He keeps several boys and they’re all young, so they need someone in charge. That was me. I tended Sebastian as well, helped him bathe and dress and eat. I had quite a bit of influence with him.”

“And that’s how you helped Kurt.”

“Yes, sir,” Blaine says. “I did my best for him.”

“I’m sure you did what you could, and I appreciate it,” Burt says firmly. “Not everyone would’ve risked themselves like that, and I’m grateful you did.”

“I am too,” Blaine admits. “Kurt’s amazing, and I wish we’d met under different circumstances, but I’m not sorry we met.”

“I doubt he is either. That says something--he’s young, but he’s not dumb. And he knows his own mind, always has. He loves you, that’s it, and nothing I can do about it. But you seem like a good man.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says, hanging his head, unable to brush away all of the doubt that rises at that statement.

“Now, I’ve been doing my research,” Burt continues. “Kurt’s got rights, but you said you’re a farm slave. That means--”

“--it means I’m technically not a person,” Blaine finishes. “I know.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you get fair treatment. Least I could do for you, after all you did for my boy. These slave laws, they don’t make a whole lotta sense. And it’s high time someone did something about it. I’m going to do my best for you, Blaine, to keep you safe and away from these assholes who think they can treat human life like a product.”

“I--I appreciate that,” Blaine says, his voice unsteady. It’s the first time someone other than Kurt has treated him like he matters. “I really do, sir. Thank you for all your help.”

“Well--you’re welcome,” Burt says, as though forcing himself past that bit of awkwardness. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m bushed. I think we should both get some sleep--we got some long days ahead of us.”

“Good night,” Blaine says automatically, rising and blinking away some grittiness in his eyes, suddenly much more tired than he was when he sat down.

“Good morning!” Burt laughs, ambling away and up the stairs to his own room. Blaine smiles and huffs a quick laugh before heading back down into the basement. He’s reassured and comfortable in a way he wasn’t before. Ever since he knocked Sebastian out, he’s felt like he took a dive off a cliff, and he’s speeding toward the ground--no control over the speed or destination or what will happen when he hits the ground. And Burt just gave him what is hopefully a parachute--he won’t know until it’s time to pull the cord, but at least there’s a chance.

It’s cool in Kurt’s basement bedroom, and the air is very quiet and still. Kurt breathes deeply and calmly, his lips slightly parted. Blaine smiles down at him and strips down to his underwear, sliding into the smooth sheets until he finds the pocket of warmth that Kurt’s body inhabits. He settles into it, pressing up against every inch of Kurt’s skin that he can, and within minutes, he falls asleep.

Kurt and Burt are at the kitchen table with a woman when he enters. She’s older, probably close to Burt’s age, very pretty and well-groomed. She rises when he enters and shakes his hand.

“Detective Lopez,” she says, her voice accented. “You’re Blaine?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Blaine replies. She nods and gestures to a seat.

“I want you to know first thing that I will do everything in my power to bring Sebastian Smythe down,” she says evenly. “I’ve got a daughter about your age, and it’s hard to sleep at night knowing that men like that could take my Santana and not face consequences. So I won’t stop until he’s done, and until people realize that these laws go too far to protect the dealers rather than the people they oppress.”

“That’s...good,” Blaine says uncertainly, a little thrown by the passion of her speech.

“There are some issues, though,” she continues. “I can protect Kurt--he was taken illegally, and we have all the evidence. But you were born on a farm, and as much as I disagree with the laws on this account, you are legally a slave. You don’t have any rights that I or a lawyer could defend. Sebastian has every right to demand you back; if he’s indicted, whoever inherits the estate can do the same, or you could be sold at auction should the government seize his assets. The only chance we have is if a judge grants you freedom on a plea bargain against Sebastian, and that’s a long shot. Chances are, you will be sold again.”

“There’s nothing we can do?” Kurt asks incredulously, indignant and angry. Blaine rests a hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid not,” Detective Lopez admits. “The best I could do is ensure that he isn’t punished by the state for assaulting his owner and running away, given that he was helping you out. But if he goes back to Sebastian, he could always carry out that punishment himself with no recourse.”

“That’s completely unfair,” Kurt bursts out. “Blaine is just as much a person as I am!”

“He is,” Burt chimes in. “But not in the eyes of the law.”

“What do I have to do?” Kurt demands. “Can I buy him? Can I set him free?”

“You could buy him,” Detective Lopez says, nodding. “If you could afford him, and if Sebastian or his next owner were willing to give him up. He’s past prime age, but he’s an expensive slave. He’s experienced, he’s in good shape, and he belongs to one of the most powerful men in the country. He’s valuable.”

“There must be something--”

“Burt, I’ll let you take over here,” she says. Then she stands, and very deliberately, announces, “I’m going outside for a cigarette. I’ll be on the front porch for the next fifteen minutes.”

She walks out, and Burt pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and lays it on the table before Blaine. The sound of the metal crashing together against the wood is jarring, and Blaine stares at them with comprehension dawning slowly as Burt speaks.

“There you go,” he says. “I checked your bag--you got clothes in there, and your money, and I packed some more stuff. Some food for the road, a prepaid cell. My number’s programmed in it, and Detective Lopez put hers in, too. The truck’s got a full tank, and a few full gas cans in the back. There’s an emergency road kit under the passenger’s seat. I tuned her recently, and everything’s up to snuff. She’s an automatic, so you shouldn’t have any trouble driving her.”

“Where is he going?” Kurt asks, clutching Blaine’s arm.

“He’s going to hide until we can figure out how to help him, or until the trial, whichever comes first,” Burt says. “There’s a map in the car, I marked where you’re going. It’s a cabin, up in Michigan--belongs to Detective Lopez, and it’s off the books, so anyone looking should have some trouble finding you there. There’s cell service and the cabin’s modern, so you won’t be in a shack and you’ll be able to stay in contact.”

“I’m going with him,” Kurt says.

“Kurt--”

“No, Kurt--”

“You can’t stop me,” Kurt says, going to stand next to Blaine. “Dad, I need to go with him, I need to make sure he stays safe. He did the same for me.”

Burt shakes his head.

“I don’t like it, Kurt.”

“I’m staying with him,” Kurt says, his tone brooking no argument. “What if this doesn’t work? What if he needs to run? I’m not going to let him run alone. He’s in this situation because of me.”

“Kurt, that’s not entirely true--”

“I’m not letting him leave like this,” Kurt says. “Now, we have about ten more minutes before the detective comes back in. We can leave quietly like she needs us to, or you can fight me till she comes back and force me to stay. But I’ll just follow him later.”

Burt frowns.

“Kurt, please,” Blaine says. “We’ll be together soon--”

“No we won’t!” Kurt cries. “You don’t know that. You could be taken away and sold and I’ll never see you again. And I can’t...I can’t live with that.”

“Go,” Burt says. “Goddamnit, Kurt. Just go. We’ll talk about this when you get back.”

Kurt immediately grabs Blaine’s hand and the bag from the door and rushes out the back, tugging Blaine along. Blaine tries to pause Kurt, but Kurt just pulls him on, into the garage through a back door and into the truck.

“Kurt, are you sure--”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Kurt says, clicking a button on a remote attached to the visor above his head. The garage door rumbles open and Blaine backs out carefully, unsure of his skill with the truck. But soon they’re out on the street, and driving easily away.

Detective Lopez turns her back and goes inside as they round the corner.

When they get inside, aided by a key added to the ring Burt gave them, Kurt gazes around in wonder. “Cabin” might have been a loose term--Blaine’s sure that even Sebastian would’ve been happy with this. It has a lodge-like feel, all exposed wood and stone, but with modern appliances and far too much room for just the two of them.

“I approve,” Kurt says, a little breathless, when they find the master bedroom. It’s huge, and luxurious without being garish. The colors are simple, the wood polished, the fabrics soft. The bathroom is entirely stone and glass and grey porcelain, with a jacuzzi tub and a shower that looks like it came out of a magazine, jets lining every wall. It’s gorgeous, and Blaine is grateful for the chance to stay here, especially as the length of the stay is indefinite.

“I’m going to call my dad,” Kurt says. “Let him know we’re here.”

He shuffles a bit, biting his lip, and Blaine sets their bag down and takes his hands, lifting them to his lips and brushing across them.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling the nerves rolling off of Kurt. He leans his cheek into Kurt’s hands and smiles up at him.

“I don’t even know,” Kurt admits with a laugh. “Just...everything that’s happened...it’s hard to process. It all happened so fast. Thirty-six hours ago we were asleep in Sebastian’s house and everything was going as usual, but now...”

“I know it’s a lot,” Blaine agrees. “I can barely believe it myself. I mean, yesterday I was a slave, and now...”

Blaine trails off, suddenly catching what Kurt meant. Everything suddenly feels surreal. He takes a deep breath and gathers himself--he can fall apart later. Right now, Kurt needs him.

“Why don’t you go call your dad,” he continues, “and I’ll go in the bathroom and fill up that tub, and we’ll relax. What do you say?”

“I think that’d be great,” Kurt says, smiling. Blaine kisses him, quick and soft, and turns away, heading into the bathroom.

Kurt walks in when the tub is almost full. Blaine turns from his seat on the edge of the tub and grins, holding his arms out. Kurt steps between them and Blaine leans his chin on Kurt’s stomach, looking up at him adoringly as Kurt brushes his fingers through his hair.

“Hi,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of Kurt’s nails on his scalp.

“Hi,” Kurt chuckles. “I think the bath is full.”

“Mmm,” Blaine whines, perfectly ready to stay in Kurt’s arms like this for the rest of the day, but he turns and shuts the faucet off anyway before standing. “We should get in, then.”

He steps back and undresses slowly, dropping his clothes carelessly to the side. Kurt watches him closely, gaze heated as it follows the revelation of skin. When Blaine is totally naked, and half-hard from the intensity of Kurt’s gaze, he steps forward.

“Let me help you,” he says, reaching for the hem of Kurt’s shirt. Kurt nods, and gingerly lifts his arms.

He undresses Kurt carefully, handling him as delicately as he can, palms hovering over skin and fingers just brushing the fine layer of hair over Kurt’s arms and legs and stomach. When he’s fully stripped, Blaine is crouched down, tossing away the briefs he’d just slid down Kurt’s legs. He finally places his hands fully on Kurt, cupping his calves and sliding up as he kisses the front of his thighs, trailing up his hips and stomach and chest with his lips until Kurt is panting, arms tense at his sides.

“Blaine--please--”

“Let’s get in the tub,” Blaine suggests, voice deep and husky. He helps Kurt into the tub before sliding in behind him, bracketing Kurt with his legs.

“I’m going to wash you up, okay?” Blaine says. Kurt nods, and Blaine gently lays his hands on Kurt’s back.

He hisses, but he doesn’t flinch away. The welts aren’t nearly as red or as tender as the day before, and the places that had torn open are now scabbed over.

“Does it hurt much?” Blaine asks, reaching for a soft washcloth and grabbing a bar of soap that smells of rosewood.

“It’s sore,” Kurt replies. “And I can’t move much, or it pulls tight. But it’s not bad if I don’t move.”

“It’ll feel better soon,” Blaine promises, tiny prickles of guilt pushing at the back of his mind. Kurt’s injuries are his fault, but burdening Kurt with that guilt won’t help now. “He only broke the skin in a few places; the rest should disappear tomorrow or the next day.”

There’s silence as Blaine washes Kurt’s back, and the moment, intimate and tender, washes over Blaine, filling him with a warmth that has nothing to do with the heat of the water.

“Does this count as me keeping my promise for our future?” Blaine asks, kissing Kurt’s wet shoulder. “I know it’s not a backrub, but it’s the best I can do right now.”

Kurt turns over, kneeling between his legs. He leans forward and kisses the corner of Blaine’s mouth.

“Let’s pretend,” Kurt asks, and it feels like a plea despite the surety in his voice. “Let’s pretend it is our future, and this is our house, and we’ll do everything you said we would. We’ll cook dinner and dance and sing and make love and...everything. Everything we want.”

“Okay,” Blaine says. He’d agree to anything Kurt wanted--anything. And with the future seeming so precarious, this could be it. It could be their only chance to really have that dream, to hold it between them like a wish, whispered into the dark because the light could destroy it. Here, away from the world that held both of them down, they could rise together, even if it was all an illusion.

The illusion is more beautiful than the truth. They deserve to live in that beauty, if only for a few days.

So Blaine washes them off, not quite reaching everything because they refuse to part from each other’s arms for even a moment. And when they leave the bath, on a whim fueled by the romance of the sun setting and their promises, Blaine lays Kurt out before the fireplace, trying to light it unsuccessfully for several minutes until Kurt laughs and does it himself. It’s not the perfect vision Blaine had of drying before the fire he built for them, but it’s close enough, and seeing Kurt smile like that is worth the little bit of embarrassment at his fumbling where he’d hoped to be smooth.

They kiss in front of the fire, the warmth of it drying them over time. Kurt lays above Blaine, indolent and sensuous in the twist of his hips. Blaine lets Kurt do as he wishes, never pushing for more, balancing on a fine edge of arousal that could quickly become desperate. But Kurt just kisses him, content to keep them both halfway to frustration, until his stomach growls and he pulls Blaine up, leading him through the house without a stitch of clothing between them to raid the fridge.

It’s perfect. They don’t cook much--they grill some chicken and boil some rice, simple and easy, far different from the rich foods they’d both been used to in captivity. They dance, ridiculous and bare and sliding on the cool tiles, and Blaine’s right hip is splattered by some hot oil, but Kurt kisses it teasingly better and Blaine almost loses it at the sight of Kurt peering up at him through his lashes with his tongue darting out to taste skin. He almost bends Kurt over the counter and lets the dinner burn, but Kurt spins away and plates their food and they eat at the counter, hips bumping together as they race to finish.

The dishes are left dirty and there’s food spilled on the counter, but it’s ignored as they stumble back to the bedroom, silly and happy and tasting of the spices Kurt sprinkled on the chicken. Again, Blaine lets Kurt take over, lets him lay Blaine out and kiss him breathless. He spreads his thighs and wraps his heels around Kurt’s calves, and they thrust together clumsily. Blaine comes fast and hard, too piqued from the prolonged tease, and Kurt chuckles at him until Blaine slithers down beneath him and sucks him without preamble, letting Kurt straddle his shoulders and fuck his mouth until he comes with a cry. They collapse laughing, kissing and giggling and giddy with their game of make-believe.