Throughout the afternoon meetings, the rhythm of the conversation in the conference rooms slips over Blaines concentration. His mind keeps ticking back to Kurt, last night, this afternoon, their conversation in the hall. A sickness curdles in his heart, an unfamiliar form of regret, sad and wishful. Heavy. Blaine works hard to keep returning his attention to whos speaking, to noting down new details, to thinking through implications and repercussions. Hes aware of Major Clarington, and how his calculating gaze rests on Blaine from time to time with a sourness that makes Blaine prickle with even more anxiety.

Blaine offers comment when asked, earns the Ambassadors approval via her a tight lipped smiles, and shares the occasional sympathetic glance of camaraderie with Trent when the Ambassador interrogates him for the nuances in his translation. No one mentions the Pieris incident, and theres a lengthy, dispiriting conversation about the logistical problems of planetary evacuation. Apathea has agreed to send guild ships to assist in the relocation of Elyssian citizens, but its still less than what Elyssia needs. Blaines energy drains, moment by moment.

In the break, Kurt is there, to serve tea and tasty bite-sized treats, both sweet and savory. And every time Blaine looks at him, he wants to say something. He wants to reach out to apologize for— Hes not entirely sure what. He only knows that Kurts not looking at him, not sending him quick private smiles, not leaning close enough that Blaine feels the heat of his body upon his shoulder, and that lack feels so much sharper and harder than the regret. Its making Blaine feel itchy on the inside—irritable and disjoint from himself and his environment. Putting a stop to this dalliance was meant to make work easier. But its still so fresh in his memory and his heart. He hasnt had time to incorporate and process the unfamiliar experience and its attending emotions.

So Blaine excuses himself from the room. In his peripheral vision he sees Kurt glance up once, briefly, but nothing more than that. He finds the closest restroom and locks the door. Critically, he stares at himself in the mirror. His uniform, face, and hair are perfect. Theres no outward sign of his internal malaise. Hes expected to see something, but hes practiced at this presentation. That at least is something to feel good about: hes not reflecting too badly on his office or that of the Ambassador.

The bathroom is small, refreshingly cool, but its dimensions are adequate to Blaines working through some simple standing stretches to clarify mind and body. After, Blaine holds a hot damp cloth over his eyes and breathes deeply until he feels balanced within and without.

By the time Blaine returns to the bright warmth of the conference room, Kurt and his staff are gone, leaving behind only the scent of coffee and Kurts cologne. Blaine tells himself the disappointment in his chest is nothing more than the folly of reflexive hope. He gets back to work.

.

Once they finish for the day, Blaine joins Trent and Nick for dinner in their quarters. A young man Blaines doesnt recognize serves them a simple meal: fragrant steamed black rice, a mildly seasoned vegetable stew, and a salad of raw nuts and fresh cut fruit. Sitting in the darkened room opposite Trent, Blaine relaxes. His closes his eyes as he chews, concentrates on the basic nuanced flavors of uncomplicated food, and visualizes it nourishing his body. Come morning, hell feel himself again. He holds the thought as his mindful will and intention, not a mindless hope.

But then after the dishes are cleared and Nicks shuffling a deck of worn cards (he prefers to play with the physical artifact rather than a tabletop simulation), Trent presents them with a slim bottle of pink wine and three glasses. He smiles encouragingly. "I hear its good," he says. "Do you want to try it?"

Normally under these circumstances, after hours with his colleagues, safe enough from potential mishap, Blaine would sample such a thing. Not for the purpose of intoxication but to inform his curiosity. But tonight making such a choice is fraught with recrimination of himself. A bottle of wine shouldnt be a metaphor for a person, and yet, Blaine wonders. If hes questioning Kurts motives, what about his own? Was he only trying to sample something, to slake curiosity more than thirst, only to end up intoxicated? Caught in the thrall of something stronger than he anticipated? Are his misgivings about Kurt an attempt at rationalizing his own mistakes?

Nick declines, and Blaine uses that as an opportunity. "Thanks, Trent. Maybe another night? Im going to try for an early night."

When Blaine pushes himself back from the table to stand, his entire body is leaden and resists rising. Maybe he overdid it in the gym, but he hasnt felt this out of sorts since his first year away from home. He wills it to pass. Hes tired; he just needs sleep.

.

Back in his quarters, Blaine pulls out the infotab Sam gave him. He contemplates sending Kurt a message, but he has no idea what to say. Should he apologize? And if he does, then what?

The worse thing is how, now that hes alone, he yearns to not be. He aches for Kurts attention, his smile, his touch—the feeling of safety Blaine had last night, of being laid open, seen, and accepted. The pleasure of the orgasm was intoxicating, yes, but it was more than that: relief and connection. Could something he experiences as so profound and true be false? Does his ability to deceive himself run so deep? Its hard to know where to place his trust. Himself, his own moral education, Kurt? Where?

To divert himself from such fruitless questions, Blaine browses through the library of Elyssian literature, music, and cinema arts. He can at least learn without risk here. And yet, he finds himself wondering which are ones Kurt enjoys. Which are his favorites? But Blaine reads nothing, watches nothing, listens to nothing himself. He cant find a place to start, and he doesnt feel like bothering Nick to ask for recommendations—that would surely come with commentary critical enough that it would adversely color Blaines experience. He could message Tina, but he doesnt have her address. He could ask Mercedes or Sam for it, but—

But? He just doesnt want to. Against all reason and clear thinking, he wants to see Kurt. He wants to understand. Maybe he cant walk away this easily. Maybe hes not supposed to.

He checks the messages on his infotab again, in the vain hope there may be one from Kurt, something for him to respond to rather than initiate. Theres not.

And Kurt had said, "if you change your mind, let me know." Which means Blaine needs to be the one to renew communications between them. If thats what he wants. If hes changed his mind.

Unfortunately, Blaine doesnt know what state his minds in right now, whether its truly changed or not. He only knows that he may have made a mistake. Its strange to miss a person hes only recently met. Kurt did want to talk, and Blaine can give him that much. He wants to.

So Blaine gets up, dresses again in casual slacks and jacket, and he heads out on his own. He doesnt let himself hope hell find Kurt in his rooms. It wouldnt be unreasonable for Kurt to be off at the dance or gone to the Gardens with some other lovely boy. Blaine prepares himself to return to his rooms without seeing Kurt. But he needs to make this effort.

.

Fortunately, shortly after Blaine presses the chime by Kurts door, it sweeps open. Blaines smile is immediate and sincere, though the open door reveals a Kurt with drooping damp hair and glassy, red-rimmed eyes. Hes dressed in loose black pants and a fuzzy red sweater. But even disheveled and raw looking, hes beautiful enough to strip all the breath from Blaines intended greeting. Blaine bows his head instead, contrite and patient.

"Blaine?" Kurt says, wonderingly and hopeful. The absence of anger or disappointment pulls Blaines attention back up. Movement over Kurts shoulder catches Blaines attention.

Its Elliott, standing up from a seat on the sofa. Hes frowning in concern, and Blaines heart leaps. He catches a lungful of air, to inquire then, "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Kurt says and his lips bend into a shallow, weary smile. "Im glad to see you."

Elliott looks from Blaine to Kurt. "Do you want me to stay?"

Kurt shakes his head. "Blaine, please, come in," he says and steps back so Blaine can.

"Hello," Blaine says to Elliott, who nods at him. Hes got no idea what else to say. Elliotts dressed the same way he was at the meetings today, which eases Blaines initial rush of anxiety. He tells himself hes got no right to judge anything here, but it doesnt stop his relief. He wonders the extent to which Elliott may be judging him, but Elliotts looking at him kindly, which makes Blaine feel even stranger.

Then Elliott hugs Kurt, tight and long, and kisses his temple. "Im not far away if you need me," he says.

"Thanks," Kurt replies.

Its awkward then after Elliott leaves. Blaine stands, resisting the urge to smooth the seams of his jacket and he asks, "Were you, um, talking about… me?"

Kurt waves Blaine toward the sofa and goes into the adjacent kitchen space. "Yes, we were."

Gingerly, Blaine sits on the sofa, perched at the edge of it. "So were youre crying… because of me?"

"Story of my life," Kurt replies over his shoulder with a careless shrug. A cupboard door thumps softly, and glass clinks. And seeing Kurt distressed and simultaneously dismissive of his distress, inspires Blaine to soothe. But its so unfamiliar to see someone so overtly upset, hes not sure he knows how to navigate this.

"Im sorry," he offers. "But Im not sure I understand."

"Its not the first time my hearts sprinted past my head, Blaine. Its all right." Kurt comes back over with two glasses of tea. His smile is lopsided and self-deprecating. He passes one to Blaine and sits beside him. "So why did you come?"

"I missed you," Blaine says, as honestly as hes able.

Kurt laughs and sniffs and wipes his eyes. "You missed me?"

Blaine nods, shifts up straighter and leans forward as he sets his glass on the table. It feels very bold when he reaches out and puts a hand on Kurts knee. "Im sorry for before, in the hallway, Kurt, I want us to be friends."

"Friendship is important," Kurt agrees. He puts a hand on Blaines bent elbow and stares down at it. "Some say its the most important thing. I tend to agree."

"Im just very confused about the rest."

"Yeah, I know that, and I really wish Tina hadnt—"

"Its not her fault that I asked her about you instead of waiting to speak to you directly. She didnt know about us," Blaine says. "She wasnt being unkind to you."

"No, she wasnt." Kurt looks back up and he turns his hand, offering Blaine his open palm. So Blaine lifts his hand from Kurts knee and places it in Kurts. With a stronger smile, Kurt folds his fingers around Blaines and squeezes as he continues. "What she told you was true, but its not all of the truth, and it doesnt reflect how I feel about you. I knew we needed to talk, Blaine. Last night was intense and unplanned, and I wanted to tell you some things before you had reason to doubt me."

"I dont understand."

"Im sorry if youre hurt," Kurt says. Hes still smiling, but his eyes glisten.

"But you didnt do anything wrong," Blaine says, because surely if there is fault here, its his own failure to anticipate and prepare for all possible outcomes.

"I dont know about that," Kurt says, and he looks down. "I was so enchanted by the idea of you, I got caught up in the romance of it and, well, last night I—"

"Romance?" Blaine asks.

Kurt nods and sniffs. "Yeah, I mean, getting to be the first person to… turn you on, kiss you, touch you," Kurt says. "Its... a rush for me too, and I dont take it lightly at all. I hope you understand that, Blaine. You matter to me." He looks up, and strokes across Blaines knuckles with his thumb. "How you have this experience matters to me, not just in the moment, but afterward—how youll carry the memories. I never wanted to cause you regret or pain."

"Last night," Blaine says carefully, making sure of his words as he speaks them. "I didnt do anything last night that I didnt want to do, or that I didnt enjoy. You didnt take advantage of me. Any doubts Ive had today are my own responsibility."

"Are you still having doubts?" Kurt asks.

"Maybe, but I didnt want to indulge them in ignorance, confusion, or fear. You said you wanted to talk. So thats why Im here, I guess. To listen."

More happiness lights Kurts eyes. "You want to know something? Ive always enjoyed love stories that begin like this."

Blaine wants to ask Kurt if this is a love story, whats happening between them, but its too much to say, so instead he says, "Will it surprise you to know Ive never heard a story that begins this way?"

"Dont you tell love stories in Apathea?"

"Not like that. Marriage relations are very formal and private, and courtship is a highly structured ritual."

"Courtship?" Kurts eyebrows rise in interest. "Youll have to tell me more about this, so I know what you mayve been expecting from me."

Blaine blinks. "Are you saying you were aiming to court me?"

"Well, Im not sure what this all means to you, but youre definitely not a fling for me."

"Fling?"

"A brief affair. Like I had with Chandler."

"Okay," Blaine says slowly. "But courtship is… um? Its done with the interest of eventual marriage. Not all courtships are successful, but they all begin with that goal in mind."

"Oh, well." Kurt frowns. "Then, ah, thats…?" He blinks furiously and looks utterly confounded for a few moments, and then he bursts into laughter and covers his mouth. "Oh, Blaine."

The laughter is contagious, Blaine presses his lips together to restrain his sympathetic response, but he fails miserably and laughs until his eyes water.

Kurt leans into him as he gasps for breath, and Blaine puts his hands on Kurts back and shoulders and wonders, even as he wipes away the moisture from his eyes, what they are to be to each other.

Eventually Kurt calms and clears his throat. "Im so sorry," he says. "Its not the idea of marrying you that— Well, its just that theres a rather large space between fling and marriage, dont you think?"

"I know," Blaine says, reluctantly bringing his hands back to his lap as Kurt sits up and leans back against the arm of the sofa. "I was just realizing that I dont actually know where we are," Blaine says. "I dont have any kind of script for this."

"Most importantly, were friends, Blaine, that much is true for me, anyway."

"Yes," Blaine says. "Thats true for me too."

"And beyond that? Maybe its up to us to make our own rules."

"I think... I think Id like that," Blaine says, and the words warm his heart with surety as he speaks them. "Yes, Id like that," he affirms.

"So," Kurt starts. "Can you tell me what this means to you, Blaine. Or what you want it to mean?"

But the question is difficult. The space between friendship and courtship used to be a clear, stark line for Blaine, but now its broken into something with such an amorphous shape, Blaine cant comprehend it. And if Kurts speaking primarily about their physical relationship—sex—what kind of meaning does he assign to that specific intimacy. Is pleasure its own end? Or is this about the other sense he had—the acceptance and safety. Is that part of Kurts experience too? Is that how its meant to feel? But Blaine doesnt wish to assume anything. "Mean? I dont know how to answer that question," Blaine says.

Kurt studies Blaine with a thoughtful twist of his mouth. "No ones ever talked to you about any of this, have they?"

"No," Blaine looks down, embarrassed again by how evident his ignorance is. "Im sorry, I—"

"Please dont ever apologize for not knowing or understanding, Blaine. Its not your fault youve been kept so innocent of these matters." Kurt shifts closer and takes each of Blaines hands in his. "I want you to feel free to talk to me without worrying that Im going to judge you for anything."

Blaine nods. "Honestly, I dont even know where to start."

"Okay, well." Kurt says. "Ill tell you something my father told me when I was young." Kurt joins Blaines hands between his, presses them together close between his palms. "This kind of intimacy between two people, it always means something. When we make love, were stripped down to our barest selves, and in that vulnerability, we have a responsibility to one another. Do you understand?"

"I…" Blaine looks at Kurt, to see what more he can find in Kurts candid gaze. Kurts describing the feeling he had, lying naked and spent in Kurts bed, but the implications, for Kurt, Blaine doesnt know. "What does it mean to you then?"

Kurts smile is soft. "Its different, depending on who Im with. But do you remember when I said sex is compassionate and generous? Thats a lot of what it means for me. Its about connecting with someone, and its about caring for them. Taking care of them, and letting yourself be cared for."

"Even the brief affairs?"

"Yes. I always want to leave someone better than I found them."

"And when… um, when you first asked me to go to the Garden with you, were you intending that to be brief? A fling?"

"I didnt expect it to be more than that, but then? Things change."

"What changed?"

Kurt shrugs. "You are you, and I am me, and something about you has captivated something in me. I want more than a few blissful nights with you, Blaine. I want to know you, and I want you to know me."

"But we dont have that much time together, Kurt. Even if both of us want… more. It cant be very much more than this, can it?"

"Were making our own rules here, Blaine. What do you want with me?"

"I dont know," Blaine says, buying himself time to piece the words to the feelings of unfamiliar and inchoate desire. "More than a fling," he says. "I think.... I want as much as we can possibly have."

"Okay," Kurt says.

"But…" Blaine ventures, less certain now of what hes asking for. Hes out of his depth. Kurt speaks of these matters as if theyre as common and obvious as breathing, but for Blaine, the thought of intimacy with one person is daunting enough. Sharing himself with more than one person? He doesnt understand how he could do that, and so the thought of Kurt being with others feels discordant. "Im not comfortable with the idea of you being with others, if were intimate." He glances into Kurts eyes to see how his words have landed. "Even Elliott. I know hes your close friend, but the thought of— Im sorry, maybe its selfish of me, but I dont think I can do that."

With an affectionate sigh, Kurt says, "No apologies, Blaine, I want you to tell me these things. Its okay. Elliott and I are, above anything else, friends. Neither of us has a claim on the other. Its a while since Ive been monogamous, but—"

"Monogamous?"

"Um, practicing monogamy with one another? Its just a word for sexual and romantic exclusivity."

Blaine nods again. "I understand."

"Would you prefer that with me?" Kurt asks.

"Monogamy?" Blaine asks. The unfamiliar word has a weight to it that sounds like something so much bigger than an intimate friendship, something thats more like courtship. Even though it cant be, even though it is what he wants.

Kurt nods, "If, during the time we have together, were exclusive to one another, is that what you want?"

"Would you be happy with that, Kurt? I wont pretend I understand how this all works for you, but if its important to you to be with others? Just because I cant—"

"Blaine," Kurt says, to cut him off. His smile is gentle. "I want you so much, and if you would be most comfortable with monogamy, then, believe me, Ill absolutely be happy with that."

You want me?" Blaine repeats.

"Mmhm," Kurt says, and he leans in close, hovers just beyond Blaines lips. It makes Blaine ache to close the distance. "I want you," Kurt repeats, and the timbre of his voice weights the word with all the glorious unnameable things Blaine craves.

"Oh," Blaine says, and barely a trace of breath carries the single syllable, though it feels like an epiphany, settling hot in his bones and bright in his mind.

"May I have you?" Kurt asks, and he leans in to cross the scant distance between them.

"Yes," Blaine whispers against Kurts lips.

Kissing Kurt makes Blaine want to drown the way he does in his dreams. He parts his lips to invite Kurts tongue, and he whimpers when he gets it. The burn of his desire feels so intrinsic and ancient, like its part of his deepest foundations.

"Please, have me," Blaine says, when Kurt breaks the kiss. "You can have me," he says more urgently, fumbling with his limited vocabulary to put words to all the desires being with Kurt reveals. Theyve been like half-formed specters haunting the dusty, darkened shadows of his mind. But Kurts flung open the shutters, let in the sun, and blown away the dust. Blaine touches Kurts cheek and searches his darkened gaze. "Take me to your bed? Please?"

Kurt stands up and offers Blaine both of his hands. Wordlessly, Blaine goes with him, back to Kurts bedroom.

On the bed, Kurt unfastens their clothes and undresses them both as they kiss. He whispers against Blaines skin, "You have me too, you know," he says. "Dont be afraid to do something or to ask me for anything or—"

Blaine reaches down and wraps his fingers around Kurts cock.

"Ah!"

He moves his hand much like Kurt had done to him—or as best as he can manage. Kurt kisses him hard and pushes eagerly into the rhythm of Blaines hand. "Oh, that feels so good." Kurt mumbles against Blaines lips, his breath comes in rapid puffs.

Encouraged by the praise, Blaine squeezes harder, making Kurt groan.

"Oh my stars… Blaine. Youre so… keen. But… mmm, I have an idea?"

"Okay," Blaine says, slowing and loosening his hand. Kurt shudders and gasps. "Tell me what to do?" Blaine asks.

"Here," Kurt says, and he rolls them over. "Straddle me?"

Blaine does, and he feels so exposed, poised upright over Kurt while Kurt gazes at him with such heat in his eyes. The intention in Kurts gaze threatens to flay him open. But the rub of Kurts hands upon his thighs soothes, reminds Blaine that hes safe here, that when he comes apart, Kurt will put him back together.

Kurt takes Blaines hand and wraps it around Blaines cock. "Will you touch yourself for me, Blaine? Id like to watch you get yourself off."

"Oh," Blaine blushes hot. He hasnt actually done this yet on his own. Kurt releases his hand, and Blaine keeps it where Kurts put it.

Kurts palms run up and down his sides, gentle as they continue over his hips and down his thighs. "Youre so beautiful," Kurt says. "Do you want to show me how you touch yourself?"

Blaine sees how dark and focused Kurts eyes are on his hand and his cock; he sees how much Kurt wants him, and Blaine shivers with the pleasure of being the focus of that intense desire. "I want to try," Blaine says, and he firms his grip on his cock. As he strokes himself, even and tight, just like Kurt showed him, he watches eagerly how Kurts breathing catches and hastens, how he snags the edge of his bottom lip between his teeth.

And then Blaine startles with a rush of heat when Kurt arches up against him while tugging him down so that Kurts cock rubs against Blaines ass.

"Settle yourself a little?" Kurt instructs, and Blaine lets his weight sink, with Kurt holding his hips and guiding them both until his erection is nestled right between Blaines buttocks and Kurts eyes roll back beneath his next slow blink. "Thats perfect," Kurt exhales on a sigh, and he rocks his pelvis up in short thrusts, timed to the motion of Blaines hand.

The silky glide of Kurts penis is a hot and intimate shock, pressing between Blaines buttocks. The solid thickness of Kurts cock is vivid as the silky soft skin of it drags past his sensitive anus. Its unexpectedly compelling, how simultaneously delicate and huge that small touch between their bodies is. Blaine pushes down against the contact, riding a tight arc with his hips as he tries to keep a regular, quickening rhythm of his hand upon his own cock. It feels good, tight and hot in his belly and balls.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt groans. "Youre such a quick study… Do you like this?"

"Yes," Blaine gasps. "Yeah." Sweat prickles at his hairline. Hes furnace hot. Kurts fingers dig into his hips and Kurt moves with him. The end of Kurts cock nudges beneath Blaines balls, and Blaine rolls his hips back farther to elongate the drag, then forward again, grinding down, fascinated by the enthusiasm of Kurts response.

"Ah," Kurt says, staring down to where his cock is grazing beneath Blaines testicles, the flushed, wet head of it peeking from beneath their heavy hang. "Oh… theres… so many things I want to do with you… so many things I want to show you."

Its Kurts words that send him arching into his orgasm and spilling hot over Kurts belly. Its just as stunning at the first time. Blaine crumples, shuddering, into Kurts arms.

He comes back to himself with Kurt kissing his face, and Kurts hands slipping around his shoulders. Kurt breathes hard, but his hips have fallen still. "Touch me, please?" Kurt asks. Blaine fumbles between them to find Kurts cock and takes it in a tight fist. Its an awkward angle for his wrist, but he manages, somewhat clumsily, to pull up Kurts length, squeezing and stroking, rubbing his palm slickly over the very tip of it.

Kurt swears, strains against him, and comes, pulsing a hot gush of semen into Blaines hand and gasping into Blaines ear.

"Wow," Blaine exhales, and he lets Kurt pull him down to rest upon his chest. Blaine feels the slick mess between them, and finds hes not in a hurry to deal with it. He settles and shifts against Kurt, feels the wet ooze of it. Hes not sure if he likes it, but its not uncomfortable for the moment. He pillows his head into the dip of Kurts shoulder, and closes his eyes.

"Okay?" Kurt asks, trailing lazy fingertips down Blaines sweat damp spine.

"Yes," Blaine replies, he shivers at the pleasant tickle of Kurts touch, wonders at how newly sensitive his skin feels beneath it. "You?"

"Im wonderful," Kurt says, and he stretches beneath Blaine. Its so good being close like this, feeling the tension and flex of Kurts body, the unyielding lines and angles of bone, the mobile pliancy of muscle. The raw physicality of it—how very much Blaine becomes aware of his own body as a body, of Kurt as an embodied person—is startling.

Its both obvious and yet not for all the ways Blaine has spent his life not thinking about this very basic and true thing. His physical form is not only life support for his mind, or a tool for carrying out high-minded intentions through action, but also this corporeal entity with sense and sensation of its own, which yearns for its own expression and satiation.

He feels then, extremely, vulnerably, irrevocably human.

Kurt kisses his cheek and quietly asks, "What are you thinking about?"

"Hmm? Oh. Being… human," Blaine replies, lifting himself up to his elbows. With his desire for Kurt eased for the time being, he contemplates Kurts handsome face and the sweetness of his smile, and Blaine lets himself wonder out loud, "How is it possible that we both are?"

"Human?" Kurt asks, and theres the bemused tone again, as if Kurts unsure how this isnt completely obvious to Blaine. He runs a finger along the edge of Blaines hairline, catching the curls that have come free. Its such a tender touch.

"Yes. I knew our species were similar, but I didnt know we were the same."

"How is that even possible?"

"The seven ships?"

Blaine huffs a short laugh and pushes himself up. "Thats a story for children, its not history."

"But it is!" Kurt says, shifting up against his pillows. "Elyssia was settled by the refugees on the generation ship Colombia. Apathea, our historians agree, was settled by those from the Aurelia. How do you not know this?"

"How can you claim to know it?" Blaine stretches to reach the panel where he remembers the hot towels were. It pops open with a gentle press and Blaine retrieves a fragrant, steaming cloth. He wipes down Kurts torso first, and watches Kurts eyelids flutter in contentment.

"We have the ancient computers from the Colombia preserved, all her data, and much of the ship herself," Kurt says. He reaches and takes a fresh towel, gently rubs it over Blaines sensitive, softened cock.

"Youre serious."

Kurt glances up at him before returning his attention to cleaning Blaine. "When we get to the Capitol, the Elyssian Museum is on your itinerary. Youll see it for yourself then."

"Oh?" Blaine shivers and feels an inquisitive heat flare in his belly, feels his cock pulse beneath Kurts careful attention.

"Your government insisted on that," Kurt says. "It was a condition of their agreement to the negotiations."

"Was it?" Blaine drags a fresh cloth over his own belly and sets it aside.

"Thats my understanding," Kurt says, and theres a promising kink at the edge of his smile, and Kurts still rubbing his cock, even though the need for it has passed. And Blaines getting hard again—and more than a little breathless.

"I thought… um, oh… politics werent your purview?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "It may not be my job, but I take an active interest."

"Because of your father?" Blaine asks. The pleasure builds strangely now, coming in short, sharp stutters and spikes, but a slow heat grows at its foundation.

"Well, considering I encouraged him to enter politics in the first place, it may be more accurate to say because of myself." Kurt tosses the towel away and takes Blaine into his naked hand.

"Really?"

"Mmhm, I ran his first campaign," Kurt says casually, even as his attention is fixed hawk-like on Blaines face. "We hired Elliott for his re-election campaign. Thats how we met."

"You didnt mention… uh… any of that the other night." Blaine feels like his spine is about to buckle from the way Kurts touching him now, his fingers are so nimble, slowly slipping Blaines foreskin back to bare his glans and then tugging it forward, stretching and rubbing it over the head with a clever roll of his wrist. Its almost too much to bear, but Blaine wants to bear it.

"Should I have? It didnt seem especially interesting," Kurt continues, and amusement warms his voice.

"Um, ah, Major Clarington said you were diversely… skilled." Blaines head lolls back, and his hips jerk forward.

"Why is Major Clarington talking about my skills? And why are we talking about him, Blaine? Is something not meeting his standards?" Kurt is playful and calm, but Blaine feels Kurts cock surge against his inner thigh.

"No, no, nothing like that, oh gods, Kurt."

"Good, because I suspect there may be better uses for my mouth than talking, dont you?"

Blaines agreement is barely a word in either of their languages.