Burt was due back later in the day, so Kurt was waiting by the door, as usual. He rested his forehead against the cool, thick glass of the window, his knees drawn up to his chest on the bench. It wasn’t terribly comfortable—it didn’t even have cushions—but Kurt was used to it. He’d been sitting on that same bench, waiting for his father, since he could remember. He wasn’t about to stop doing it now.

His thoughts drifted away from him in fanciful daydreams. He imagined himself having been born ten years earlier. He would’ve reached majority just as Prince Cooper took the throne twelve years prior, and he could’ve travelled to Castle Dalton and joined court as a minstrel. Cooper had loved music and plays and stories, and had entertained many bards in his court. Kurt could’ve just walked in and requested an audience, and he would’ve wowed the whole court with his unusual voice and striking presence. They would’ve cherished him for it, and found him fascinating rather than repulsive. He would’ve gotten a permanent place at court, and he could’ve met the most amazing, fascinating people, and he would’ve fallen in love with a handsome nobleman who would have delighted in showering him with gifts and affection and no one like Karofsky or Azimio or Rachel or Sebastian could ever touch him…

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw a horse coming up the lane, pulling him out of his fantasies. He turned quickly, surprised—his father shouldn’t be home for at least another few hours, unless he pressed himself, and he’d promised he wouldn’t, and—

It wasn’t his father.

The horse was a sleek black beast; tall, its muscles rippling beneath the silky coat. Astride it was Lord Sebastian Smythe.

Kurt scrambled off the bench and ran into the hall, entirely unsure if he should wait for Sebastian to come to the door or go outside. Here he paused, fiddling with his hair and shifting nervously, hoping he didn’t look too flustered—he didn’t want to give Sebastian any advantage over him, and he was sure looking like a mess would count. His cheeks felt flushed and his clothes were a bit rumpled, but he didn’t have time to fix that now.

He hurried back to the window and looked out quickly. Sebastian had reached the stables and was lashing his horse’s reins to a post. Kurt still had time to head him off—he wouldn’t be letting Lord Smythe into his home, into where he was comfortable and vulnerable.

He opened the door and stepped out with as much confidence as he could muster. He stepped down and headed toward Sebastian, who turned and waited when he saw Kurt coming toward him.

“Kurt Hummel,” Sebastian said, facing Kurt and bowing cordially. “So you do still exist.”

“My lord,” Kurt said, returning the bow stiffly and choosing not to acknowledge Sebastian’s comment. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“I believe I sent you a message,” came the quick reply. “Did you not receive it?”

“I did, my lord.”

“And yet my soldier was turned away when he came for a response. Rather rudely, I’m told.”

“My apologies, my lord,” Kurt said, smiling coldly. “I was not aware my answer was required so urgently. Did the note not specify that I was to reply at my earliest convenience?”

Sebastian’s smirk hardened, and he looked over Kurt again, as though seeing him in a different light. After he’d swept over Kurt’s body, he huffed out a laugh, suddenly grinning.

“I see you are not lacking spirit,” Sebastian said, leering. “Good. I would be disappointed were you as meek as you seemed the other night.”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Kurt said innocently. If Sebastian wanted to play games, Kurt was going to set the rules. “I wasn’t aware that clothiers needed any particular attitude to perform satisfactory service.”

Sebastian eyed Kurt again. He looked surprised, but not displeased.

“No, I’m sure your…services are quite satisfactory regardless,” he said. “And I notice you’ve still not given me an answer.”

“Is it common practice for a Lord to sup with a prospective employee?” Kurt asked. He knew he was pushing it, but he’d gotten away with it so far and Sebastian’s constant staring was grating on his nerves. “I thought such things below a nobleman. I expected a letter directly from your clothier, or from your chamberlain.”

Sebastian’s answer was a raised eyebrow. Kurt pressed on.

“I am terribly sorry if my etiquette is lacking, my lord, I am but a peasant. But is it truly necessary for you to come for an answer in person, and after such a short time? Your clothier must be in dire need of an apprentice, if you are so eager to fill the position.”

“I think we both know that I’m only interested in having you in one position,” Sebastian shot back, his eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms. He smirked again, adding, “At least at first.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, my—“

“You know exactly what I mean,” Sebastian snapped, suddenly stepping into Kurt’s personal space. “I didn’t ask you to my manor so you could sew me clothes. I don’t need a damn apprentice clothier, nor do I want one. I only want one thing.”

Kurt inhaled sharply, stepping back. Sebastian followed him, crowding him. He grasped Kurt by the waist, his gloved hands stroking Kurt over his clothing.

“The moment I saw you enter that tavern, I knew you’d be exquisite,” Sebastian gasped, tilting his head down and brushing his nose along Kurt’s cheekbone. Kurt froze. “So pretty. So delicate. I saw you blush the first time and all I could think of was how far down the blush went. I’ve never wanted to see anything so badly.”

Kurt tried to pull back, pushing his hands against Sebastian’s chest, but Sebastian was strong and had him in a firm grip.

“But then you surprised me,” he continued. “I send you my message, and you refuse to answer. My soldier is rebuffed, and when I come here myself, I am met with resistance. And you talk back to me! What kind of wild animal would you be when properly unleashed? I am certainly impatient to find out. Gods know I love a challenge, but there’s no need to continue fighting.”

Sebastian’s hands reached around and caressed Kurt’s bottom, stroking the firm muscle in circles. Kurt pushed against him again, trying to back out of his grip, but he only succeeded in backing further into the hands grasping at his backside. Sebastian groaned.

“You know why I asked you to sup with me,” the lord whispered, his voice silky, looking directly into Kurt’s eyes. “And I know that you know. You’ve known all along. And you’ve done your best to deny me, but I’m done playing with you.”

Sebastian pressed himself right against Kurt, and he was horrified to feel Sebastian’s arousal pressing into his abdomen.

“You will come to supper with me tomorrow night,” he said, squeezing Kurt sharply. “We will eat a fabulous meal, and then I will fuck you over the dinner table until you scream for more. And when we’re finished, I will take you to my chambers and fuck you again. And in the morning, we’ll continue, and again, and again.”

“No—“

“You will be given chambers, though I’m not sure you’ll see much of them, at least at first. And you will continue to allow me to do with you what I like for as long as I wish it. I promise you that you will not be dissatisfied yourself. You will live in the greatest luxury, and be showered with gifts and favors. And I am told that I am a most skillful lover, so you will sleep well at night after I tire you out.”

“And how long until you throw me back out onto the street?” Kurt demanded, finally breaking free of Sebastian’s embrace. He backed up hurriedly, putting at least three paces between himself and Lord Smythe. “How long until I am discarded, or worse, killed?”

“What makes you think I’ll be doing that?” Sebastian asked.

“And why wouldn’t you?” Kurt spat. “It’s no secret that that is the fate of all your lovers.”

Sebastian laughed delightedly.

“Oh, no,” he said. “You misunderstand me. If I were looking for a quick fuck, I wouldn’t bother pursuing you. I can get that anywhere.” He stepped closer to Kurt again, but Kurt quickly backed away, desperate to keep space between them. “I’m looking for a more…permanent arrangement.”

“You want a…a concubine?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, yes, though of course I still reserve the right to take other lovers on occasion.” Sebastian admitted. He didn’t seem troubled by the admission. “It’s a generous offer, Kurt. And it’s likely the best prospect you’ll ever have. You should be honored. I’ve never offered to take someone on permanently. That makes you quite special.”

That was all Kurt had ever wanted: to be special. He’d been different long enough, the object of scorn and derision. He wanted to be cherished, envied. He’d have privilege, and possibly even some sway with a Lord. And the way the people had been talking, Sebastian wanted to make a claim for the throne—he could end up companion to the King. He had the chance before him to be truly special, because as Sebastian’s… companion, he would be just that.

“I’ll even give you a public face if you want,” Sebastian said. “Court minstrel, perhaps? Everything else need only be between us.”

Sebastian knew. He knew everything; he knew just what Kurt wanted. He had all the power at his disposal, and Kurt would be a fool to turn down everything he’d ever wanted. All he had to do in exchange was allow this handsome, strong man to use his body for pleasure, and he’d already promised Kurt would be pleased in return. It wasn’t a bad deal. There was always the risk that Sebastian would tire of him, but Kurt was a determined person—if he could learn to keep Sebastian satisfied, he’d be set for life.

But could he do it? Could he allow himself to be used, like an object? He wouldn’t be special or important then. He’d give up being his own person. And all the romance he’d ever dreamed of, the stories of true love he had always believed in…he’d have abandoned it all.

Don’t throw yourself around like you don’t matter. Because you matter, Kurt.

He couldn’t do it.

“My answer, my lord,” Kurt said, smiling sweetly, “is no.”

Sebastian’s seductive smirk fell into a grimace and his eyes narrowed angrily. Kurt couldn’t help but feel that he no longer looked very handsome.

“You are making a—“

“Good afternoon, Lord Smythe. Can I help you?”

Kurt could have cried with relief.

“Dad!”

He rushed forward to see his father off the cart. Burt handed him the reins and turned to Sebastian as Kurt led the mare to her stall and began his usual chore of unhitching the cart and rubbing down the horse. His father had taken over now.

“What can a lowly merchant do for the Lord of Lima today?” Burt asked. Kurt listened intently.

“I have come to offer your son a very important position in my court. However, he’s just turned me down.”

“Well, that’s that, then,” Burt said. “Though I wasn’t aware you had a court, Lord Smythe.”

Sebastian sneered.

“I will soon,” he warned. He turned to Kurt. “It would be best if you changed your mind, Kurt. Do so before the month is out and I’ll forgive your current lapse in judgment. After that, I can’t promise anything.”

Sebastian untied his black from the post and mounted easily before riding away.

“What in the hell was that, Kurt?”

Kurt shuddered.

“It’s not a problem, Dad,” he said. “Like he said, I turned him down. Though…I don’t know if he’ll be back to try to convince me otherwise.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Burt said.

“What do you mean, shouldn’t be a problem?” Kurt asked. “I just basically insulted the most powerful man around—“

“No, I’m afraid I did that,” Burt replied. Kurt felt like he was missing something.

“I don’t know if what you said could be considered an insult, exactly—“

“I’m not talking about Lord Smythe.”

 Kurt stared.

Burt sighed. “I think we should go inside.”