Blaines hand stops and so do his lungs. "Oh," Blaine says. The heat that rushes his body is so strong, so sharp, he goes dizzy.

Kurt opens both eyes and moves a hand to cover Blaines. His gaze is steady and direct, and curiosity gentles his voice. "Youve been thinking about sucking my cock, havent you?" Though mildly spoken, the words themselves are a shock, abrupt and explicit, but Blaine cannot deny theyre an accurate match for what hes been imagining since the morning.

Its unsettling how transparent his desires are to Kurt, but its a wonderful kind of upheaval—makes him want to fall even farther beyond the familiar and controlled. This is what hes been aching for today. Blaine releases a breath that shakes with his eagerness, but his reply is a clear, "Yes, I was." Its so brazen—a powerful admission.

Kurts smile deepens, and Blaine shifts his attention from Kurts beautiful face, down his torso, past their hands clasped together on Kurts chest to Kurts erect penis. His hand follows his gaze, easing from under Kurts warm palm, skimming over his belly and taking the solid length of him in a loose grasp. He anticipates putting his mouth around it—and, oh, how he wants to—but though the execution seems straightforward enough, its daunting for the intensity of the intimacy. Putting his mouth around Kurt, taking him inside like that—his head swims with how very possible and imminent it is.

He knows the sharp bliss of receiving. The memorys been itching under his skin. To reciprocate that feeling for Kurt? Blaines breath comes shallow and quick. "I want to know what its like to do that for you." Slowly, Blaine pulls up Kurts silken hot shaft, savors the weight and shape of it as much as he does the flutter of Kurts eyelashes and the snag of air in his throat. For all the muddled complexity in his day, this desire remains clear. "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

"I want that too," Kurt whispers, and its plain in his darkening gaze. "Take your time, and just... mmm... follow your instincts."

Instincts again. Still such a new thing to surrender to rather than reflexively resist. But the deep compulsion of his desire cannot be denied, those urges that rise up in his body in strange eddies of even stranger and stronger hungers. Hungers for things he wants for no reason other than he wants them. Like this, here, now: he tightens his hand and makes longer, quicker strokes, pulling the satin soft skin of Kurts cock up over the flushed head of it and back down. He watches the simple motion, and feels with his hand and his heart his whole bodys yearning.

"Thats wonderful," Kurt murmurs, and though his hips shift restlessly, his fingertips are light and precise upon Blaines cheek, then at his temple, then brushing over his hair to trace an arc around his ear, and then back to skin, skittering ticklishly down the back of his neck, making Blaine shiver.

"It is," Blaine replies, and he watches the color rising bright on Kurts cheeks, the anticipation dark in his heavily-lidded eyes. How his breaths come so quick and keen, and the way his bottom lip catches between his teeth. Blaine is just as caught. Snagged within Kurts presence, within Kurts desire for him, within his own rousing intentions. Yet, here, like this, even caught as he is, the tension thats been lodged in his chest unwinds into ease. Blaine sighs it out, closes his eyes, and leans in to kiss Kurt, to coax Kurts bottom lip free of Kurts teeth and carefully take it between his own.

Evenly, he keeps stroking Kurts cock as he kisses him, loves the velvet heat and the uncompromising hardness of it in his palm. Loves even more how eagerly Kurt meets him, with a sinuous roll of his hips, luscious mobile mouth, and the syllables of sweetest approval muted deep in his chest. Blaine gives himself over to the sense of possibility he finds here, with Kurt, in intimate embrace. For this alone—holding Kurt, so warm and responsive, while kissing him and using his hand to bring him pleasure—it could be enough for Blaine. Its so much to feel, to both give and receive. But the knowledge that more may be discovered—new sensations and emotions to share—drives Blaine to release Kurts mouth so that he may seek them.

He looks at Kurt again, for it seems important to keep looking, to be aware. Pay attention. His whole sense of things dilates strangely as he does. Kurts pale body and long limbs draped across and sunk into the deep blue of his bed. The rise and fall of his chest, the expansion of his ribs with each inhalation, the svelte hollow of his belly, the flush marbling his chest and darkening his nipples, the blood-thick rod of his cock in Blaines hand. The patient anticipation in his touch and weighted in his gaze.

Hes much as he was a moment ago—a kiss is all thats passed between them—but the star field yawns at Blaines back with a prickle of awareness up his spine. Its cool, dark and enormous in contrast to the luminous heat and closeness inside, between them. In an instant, Kurt seems just as fathomless: a place for Blaine to fall into, an endless blissful drowning.

It swells in Blaines throat, the stark and sudden understanding that Kurt, as a person—inhabiting his body—is like a whole world to explore, and what grows between them is just as vast a space to discover as the space that holds them. Even with a simple goal, how is he to begin?

"Dont over think it," Kurt says. Its affectionate instruction given with tender fingers stroking his skin. One hand drifts low on his back, the other pets along the flex of his upper arm.

But its not the thinking thats the trouble. The surfeit of feelings, complex and unfamiliar. Blaine wonders if over feeling can be a problem too. Blaine smiles, lowers his gaze, and confesses, "I dont know where to start."

"Start where we are now," Kurt says, and he lays a single, straight finger upon Blaines lips as if to silence him, but it turns to a seductive slide across Blaines bottom lip. "Just follow your desire... the one thing you want most, and let it lead you."

Kurts advice recalls their first night together when what Blaine wanted most was simply to touch Kurts neck and shoulders. He uses the memory as a place to begin here, with his mouth this time. He lets go of Kurts cock and brings his hand up to cup Kurts face, the fine edge of his jaw, to tip his chin up, and then he bends his head to press his lips to the tempting line of Kurts throat.

Kurt gasps and shivers wonderfully. Encouraged, Blaine takes his time sucking soft kisses across Kurts skin, below his jaw, into the hollow beneath his ear. He inhales the scent of him and relishes the burr of his moans beneath his lips.

"Thats it, Blaine—oh," Kurt whispers and arches his neck.

Its the most gratifying invitation. "You like this?" Blaine murmurs, rubbing the tip of his nose along Kurts pulse.

"Youre... very good with your mouth."

"I want to kiss you everywhere," Blaine says, and then catches a hasty breath at his boldness.

"Mmm," Kurt says, and twists indulgently beneath Blaine, bringing his hips up in a swaying roll of suggestion—or a reminder. "Please do." Or even a request.

Its one Blaine intends to obey. He has neither the will nor reason to mire himself in cautious indecision. Once that anxiety slips from his mind, all thats left is the desire to follow. He follows it with his hands and mouth, shuffling back toward the foot of the bed as he kisses down the hard plane of Kurts breastbone to the yielding warmth of his belly until the wet tip of Kurts penis bumps the tender skin of his throat, and the wondrous heady scent of Kurts arousal wafts and beckons to him.

"Oh, sweetheart," Kurt murmurs, and his fingers stroke through Blaines hair and across his shoulders.

Blaine lifts his head and cups his hand beneath Kurts heavy shaft. He moistens his lips, flicks his gaze up to find Kurts, and presses his mouth to the exposed crown. The simple caress of his lips against the silken skin ripples down Blaine spine and nestles a hungrier ache in his belly and in his balls. Kurts eyelids shiver and his lips come apart. "Thats it," he whispers, and the way his hooded gaze—-burning bright even in the low light—holds fast with Blaines, the piercing intimacy of that connection is as tangible as the contact between their bodies. "Youre doing so well, Blaine," Kurt praises.

Theyre the last words Kurt speaks with clarity for a time. Blaine touches as he kisses and glosses Kurts cock with his tongue. He loses himself in patient exploration of Kurts flesh and how he responds to each glancing sweep, curious grazing lick, or flickering suckle. He maps out the shape and texture of every part of Kurts penis before opening wide and sucking the smooth head of it into his mouth. He cant stop himself from moaning around the thick slide of it between his lips and the weight upon his tongue. Kurts voice echoes his with the velvet resonance of pleasure. The answering surge of Blaines arousal soon has him pressing his hips down, grinding his erection into the cushion of bedding as he takes Kurt in.

Its too much to take Kurts cock very deeply, but he slides and sucks down as much of Kurts length as he can, while grasping the root of him firmly in one hand and squeezing one tensing thigh with his other. The stretch of his lips and jaw, how the unyielding girth of Kurts penis presses and pins his tongue, and the way Blaines throat threatens to spasm shut even as Blaine strives to take more—Blaines so open and hot and full and—gods—his mouth is flooded with saliva and his eyes with water and air is scarce to find.

Kurt mumbles encouragement and pleasure and opens his thighs to let Blaine better settle between them. But Blaine soon finds he has little more endurance giving than receiving. Hes woozy for lack of breath, his jaw aches from the unfamiliar stretch, and his neck cramps. Reluctantly, he releases Kurts penis from his mouth. With his lips numb and his vision blurred, he glances up apologetically. "Sorry," he says, and his voice is so rough and desperate he doesnt sound like himself. He clears his throat and takes a necessary and deep clear breath.

Kurt sighs through a smile thats not at all displeased, and his fingers slide from where theyve been cradling Blaines scalp to rub along the hinge of his jaw. "Sore?" Kurt asks.

"A little," Blaine says, and its this admission of his limitations that makes him look down and blush. "Im sorry, I—" He pulls his closed fist up Kurts cock.

Kurt bites his lip with a hiss and his eyes flutter closed. "Oh, n-no, dont—" he starts, and gasps again.

Blaine stops moving his hand, lets go. "Dont?"

Kurt huffs a ragged laugh and opens his eyes. "Dont apologize for that," he says. "Endurance comes with practice. Youre doing wonderfully for your first time—youre so diligent. It felt so good."

"Thank you," Blaine says, and his flush turns to one of gratified pleasure. "I want you to feel good," he says, "May I keep... practicing?"

"Mmhm," Kurt replies.

To rest his jaw, Blaine returns to lighter touches of exploration. This time, he lets his fingers drift down to the feather soft surface of Kurts balls, and he follows with his lips, kissing and mouthing curiously, gently—so gently—while he seeks farther back with his touch, curling his fingers and stroking the smooth skin behind Kurts balls, letting the warm weight of them settle against his fingertips as he draws his touch down and licks across the swell of each testicle in turn.

"Could... you?" Kurt pants and touches the corner of Blaines mouth. "Hmm... suck them? Just lightly. Hold them in your mouth and... ah—"

Blaine complies, opening his mouth and gingerly taking one, then the other into his mouth until his mouth is overfull with this most vulnerable part of Kurt. Though soft, Kurts whimpering thunders in Blaines ears as he carefully rolls his tongue beneath the heavy shape of Kurts balls. He sucks—lightly—and the sound of it is fantastically obscene. Kurt makes a tight fist in Blaine hair and his thighs shake.

"Good..." Kurt says, "Blaine, oh... thats good."

A glance up Kurts body shows his head is tossed back, his eyes pinched closed, and his parted lips bitten red and swollen. If this is good, Blaine wonders what better might look like—and if he might discover it. Kurts balls slip from his mouth and Blaine concentrates on pushing his fingers back, into the heated cleavage between Kurts buttocks, seeking. Kurt said he liked to be touched here. Said it was something they could explore together. With the beat of his heart jammed up hard against the back of his tongue, Blaine traces one shy fingertip over the different texture of Kurts anus.

And Kurt shivers. "That feels good too," Kurt whispers. Hes cracked his eyes open and looks down at Blaine with surprising clarity.

"I still dont know what Im doing," Blaine says.

"Youre doing fine," Kurt says.

"May I—?" rushes out before Blaine catches himself to better consider his words.

"Whatever it is, just ask."

"What, um?" Blaine drags his finger more firmly, back up to nudge Kurts balls and then back to his anus. He settles his finger there and thrills hot as he asks, "You said you liked this. What do you like exactly?"

Kurt holds his gaze patiently—and the combination of Kurts candid consideration and the touch Blaines giving him—which, even here in permissive Elyssia, seems to Blaine an illicit sort of thing. But Kurt said some people like it, that he liked it—and Blaine wants so much to learn and understand and keep touching Kurt to make him moan and shiver and climax. Kurt bends his knees up and tilts his hips. "Light touches or kisses are very nice," he says warmly. "Anything beyond that can wait for when Im more awake with you."

"Kisses?" Blaine asks, wondering as he keeps touching. Yet another technique that wouldnt have occurred to him, though he did say he wanted to kiss Kurt everywhere. The idea of it seems, maybe, dirty, but looking at Kurt now, his heart thrums with curiosity, not distaste. Everywhere, yes. He draws his fingertip more slowly, up and over the tight little ring of muscle, rubbing the way he remembers Kurt did to him in the shower. The muscle flexes softer beneath his touch, and Kurt nods. His expression is so loose, so open, and his desire is so naked on his lovely features. Kurts so hot here, so tender, and he just showered, so— "Kissed here?" Blaine asks to be sure—or just to hear Kurt say yes.

"Yes," Kurt whispers.

The flash of anticipation and imagination—touching his lips where his fingers linger. A kiss, mouth to tail. It swoops through Blaines brain as if hes been tipped upside down.

"Do you want to?"

He does, but he asks for the confirmation again anyway, "Youd enjoy it?"

"I would."

"Then... yes, may I?"

Kurts look is answer enough. "Let me just... move into a better position for you," Kurt says, he shifts and rolls over to his belly and then pushes up to his hands and knees. Its all gorgeous implication and sensual invitation. Over the curve of one pale shoulder, he looks at Blaine, whos moved to kneel behind him."Okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine says, though, somehow, being presented with Kurts ass like this is more daunting for the obviousness of Kurts posture. But Blaines wont let his courage fail him here, not like this. Not when Kurts waiting patiently for something as innocent sounding as a kiss. He puts his hands on the pert hemispheres of Kurts buttocks, pets and squeezes and parts them to better expose the shadowed opening between them.

And then the only thing to do is the doing of it. He bends near and sets his mouth just there, where Kurt opens: a soft, closed kiss to the crinkled rim. His lips move in a light caress and Kurt hums pleasantly and stretches, tentatively pressing back against Blaines mouth. Blaine flicks the tip of his tongue out and Kurts hum turns to a soft needful groan.

"Sometimes," Kurt says, and his voice is barely audible, thin and low and quiet as if hes sharing a precious secret. "I can get off this way," he whispers.

Get off isnt too hard to parse. Blaine pulls back, more than a little amazed to hear (Perhaps?) a confession of Kurts more private desires. Wonders how often Kurt shares this with his other lovers, or if this is something reserved for those closest to him. "You mean you can climax? From a kiss here?" He touches again with a fingertip, and the muscle flinches beneath his touch, mouthing open and closed, grasping at the pad of his finger. And something about it—a small private movement, a small touch, a question asked—it marks for Blaine another threshold crossed. He doesnt want to stop or retreat or hesitate from going further.

"From the right sort of kiss," Kurt says.

"The right sort?" Blaine echoes dazedly.

"Im not... uh," Kurt says and shivers as, fascinated, Blaine rubs at the center of his anus, coaxing it to flex and wink for him again. "Im not asking you to... I just—"

"I really want to," Blaine says, and he goes back down, determined to do his best.

Kurt makes a guttural sound of surrender and collapses to his elbows. The right sort of kiss, Blaines certain, must be long and thorough, and it must involve tongue, so he gives himself over to this single minded task, licking and nipping and suckling at the delicate skin. Kurt swears and shakes, and beneath his mouth, Kurts anus yields, letting the next pass of Blaines tongue sink in, just barely. Enough that when Kurt moans again—deep and hungry and muffled against a pillow—and his rim quivers soft and wordlessly inviting, it catches at Blaines tongue tip. So Blaine digs in a little, doesnt question the impulse, just follows the yearning in his chest, to push the pointed end of his tongue against the hot little opening, chasing the heat and the pungent sex-sweet scent of Kurt, chasing the beautiful sounds of Kurts pleasure. It must feel amazing, for Kurts whole body tenses and shudders; he cries out raggedly and moans Blaines name.

"Touch yourself," Kurt says. "Blaine. Oh... fuck..." he pants. "Please? Oh, come with me... while youre..."

One hand, Blaine can spare. He reaches roughly for his penis, careless of his own technique, he pulls along his cock at a pace to match the staccato, high-pitching sounds that come with each desperate drag of Kurts lungs. He works his mouth greedily against Kurts body, slipping over and pushing in and lashing and laving until his tongue burns with fatigue and his own spit slicks his chin.

The closer Blaine comes to his own orgasm, the more his discipline fractures and instinct takes him. He groans helplessly, grips the flesh of Kurts ass tightly with his free hand, and he licks and licks and dips in and in, over and over and over and—

"So close," Kurt grits out with scarce volume. His spine sags and his knees skid farther apart. "Oh, sweet stars... Blaine, please dont stop. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine... oohhhhh." Kurts thighs snap taut, his spine bows tight. He shudders to his bones and comes hard.

That—and the sound of his own name, chanted like a sacred prayer, brings Blaines orgasm upon him in a hot swamping rush. He heaves a harsh open-mouthed sob against Kurts skin, a weirdly distorted animal cry. He spills over his hand, and gasps against Kurts hot spit damp skin.

And Kurt is still saying his name, more quietly now, a broken whisper. Blaine shivers while he gathers his breath and drags his numb lips across the swell of Kurts buttocks. His tongue buzzes from friction, throbs with unfamiliar exertion. Even his knuckles ache from the grip he had on Kurts ass. Kurt slumps forward and down. Blaine loses his hold of him and lets go of his own softening penis. He lies down beside Kurt, but not too close—theyre both too hot.

Lightly, with his clean hand, Blaine strokes down the lax arc of Kurts spine, marveling quietly at being responsible for... this. The imprint of his fingers are livid on one pale buttock, and between theyre reddened with friction. Kurt moans contentedly and stretches his legs and feet.

From his face-down sprawl, Kurt turns his head toward Blaine. His eyes shine. "You..." he says with soft static in his voice. He sighs a noiseless laugh. "You really surprised me."

"Did I?" Blaine asks. He touches Kurts lovely flushed cheek.

"Most delightfully," Kurt affirms with a sleepy and slow spreading smile. "That was magnificent."

Accomplishment warms Blaine. "That was.... the right sort of kiss then?"

Kurt laughs with some volume. "You did exceptionally well, yes." Kurt reaches to pull Blaines face closer and kisses him slow and deep, lets his tongue linger in soft thorough exploration of Blaines mouth. When the kiss ends, Kurt says, low and sweet, "I could tell how much you enjoyed it too."

"I loved it," Blaine says, a blush hot on his cheeks at the admission. "Is that... unusual? To like doing something like that?"

Kurts answering frown is slight, but he smiles too, amused and mildly baffled. "If something is given and received with openness and mutual desire and brings us both pleasure? Then what could possibly be unusual about liking it?"

"Others might think—"

Kurt shakes his head. "Others? What others? We havent got an audience tonight, Blaine, its just us."

Chagrined, Blaine concedes, "Youre right, of course."

Kurt nods, attempting a more serious face, but he loses his composure to a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Of course," he echoes wryly. But his grin soon gentles into earnest tenderness. His gaze tracks over Blaines face as if memorizing him. "Its funny," he says more softly. "Sharing this with you is making me feel like Im new at it too, in a way. Being with you while you experience it all for the first time? Its like Im getting a second chance for myself."

"Oh—" Blaine wonders about Kurts first sexual relationship—the older man—but Kurts eyelids are hanging lower with each slow blink, so he doesnt ask about him. "—is that a good thing?"

"It is for me."

They share a quiet, warm moment. Blaine contemplates his feelings for Kurt now that the immediacy of his physical lust is satisfied, but he fails to name or categorize the sweet pang of them.

"Unfortunately," Kurt says, pushing his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I need to go before I fall asleep."

Blaine wishes he could invite Kurt to stay, but its not viable. "Thats... probably wise."

Kurt uses Blaines bathroom to clean up and then comes out and gets dressed again while Blaine watches. Blaine reaches for Kurts hand, uncurls his fingers, and kisses his open palm. A tightness in his throat urges him to say something, the right thing, something true. But he doesnt know the words. He closes his eyes as pressure gathers behind his eyes. Hes become so emotional since coming here.

"What is it?" Kurt asks. His fingers twitch in Blaines hold.

Blaine turns his head and Kurt cups his cheek. "I dont know." His voice cracks, and excess feeling blurs his vision. Blaine makes himself smile through it. "I dont know?"

"Honey," Kurt says, and he pets Blaines hair so tenderly. "Look at me, please?" Blaine does. "Is something wrong tonight?"

"Not tonight, no," Blaine says. After a strange and fretful day, so much is right. "But I—" His throat closes and he has to breathe carefully to clear it. "I dont understand what Im feeling. I dont even know how to speak about it, what words to use—in either of our languages."

Kurt drops to a crouch and kisses Blaines mouth long and sweet. "Your heart and your body have their own wisdom, even if your head doesnt know all the words. Its okay, Blaine. Youre a person, not a puzzle to solve. So long as you like the way you feel when were together and you dont regret it when were not, its all right."

"I do like the way I feel," he says, "very much."

"As do I," Kurt says, grins. But his grin morphs into a yawn he covers with his hand. "We can talk more tomorrow? I wont see you until after lunch. Perhaps we can spend some time together after that? Before your afternoon meetings?"

.

The alarm of Blaines rig jars him from a deep sleep, leaving him disoriented and groggy. He drags himself through his morning routine and only makes it out to the lounge area with five minutes to spare. He doesnt understand why hes so out of sorts this morning. Last night was extraordinary. Overwhelming certainly, but good. Replaying his time with Kurt in his mind, he has no regrets, just the blooming warmth of affection and anticipation and a swooping spike of arousal at the memories.

But its harder to close off those feelings and attend to the morning reports. Last night—not just with Kurt, but with Tina, the music, the wine, her advice—all of it together has him feeling raw and thin skinned. Coming back to this familiar routine feels like getting back into a cage.

Still, five minutes is enough time to don his smile and his professional manners. He relies upon the momentum of habit as he goes over the morning report summaries with the Ambassador while she drinks her tea. She looks at him long and critically, but makes no comment.

As they talk, and Blaine outlines to her some of his communication strategy suggestions for Wes—and gains her permission to discuss the topic with Elliott—Blaine reminds himself of whats at stake, the importance of their work. Its not about him or how he feels. And by the time the others arrive for breakfast, hes got his head back into the right space.

.

After lunch, he meets Kurt near the lift. "Where are we going today?" Blaine asks. He takes his time to admire Kurts manner of dress—its always a delight. Today he wears a monochrome palette and military lines: snug charcoal trousers, shiny black boots that cover his kneecaps, and a dove gray jacket with a high straight collar, cut trim on his slender torso with silver epaulettes that emphasize his shoulders.

"To the main promenade," Kurt says to both Blaine and the lift. "Where you were to have lunch the other day. Its a nice place to walk and talk."

As covered as Kurt is, in strict controlled lines of sturdy opaque fabrics, the contrast of it with what Blaines experienced of Kurts body, bare and warm and yielding—falling into flushed and sweating disarray beneath Blaines hands and mouth... It makes Blaines chest swell with the urge to press Kurt up against the wall, kiss him breathless and unfasten all the buttons and layers of him to find his naked skin and make him shake and moan and gasp. "You look incredibly sexy," Blaine says instead.

Kurts cheeks go pink with pleasure at the compliment. "Thank you."

Turns out, the promenade is also a popular place. The wide arc of it is full of people—some walking, some jogging, and some seated upon benches that face the ranks of tall white-barked and purple-blossomed trees set against the broad star field outside. Its paved in a gold flecked stone that yields more softly than stone should beneath Blaines feet. The interior wall rises up in a high expanse of rough hewn timber planks. Theyre long enough and uniform enough in their curvature, Blaine is certain they cant have come from actual trees. Whether the technological magic comes from a clever illusion or the clever engineering of materials, Blaine cannot discern.

Whats clear is that theres little privacy to be found here for intimate conduct—which may be for the best, if theyre to talk as Kurt suggested last night. Blaine tamps down his desire, orients himself in the present moment.

"How are you today?" Kurt asks him as they move into the flow of people. "Your smile... its different."

"Is it?"

Kurt nods and reaches for Blaines hand. That seems a safe enough touch, and theres no one from his delegation wholl be here to see.

"In a good way or a bad way?" Blaine asks. He rubs his thumb over Kurts.

"I dont know. You tell me." Kurts smile is patient and his gaze interested.

Blaine frowns and looks down, considers his words before he speaks. "How do you... maintain your professional conduct and do this?"

"What do you mean by this?"

The bustle of people at least provides privacy to speak candidly, so Blaine does. "You and I, conducting our affair... making love. Its challenging for me to shift between being the Ambassadors assistant and being... the way I am with you."

"And how is that?" Kurt asks.

"I feel more... myself with you. Freer, I suppose, less inhibited, more sincere."

At that, Kurt chuckles. "You dont seem insincere when youre at work," Kurt says. "You seem committed and professional to me. Those differences between how we feel about ourselves when were intimate and when were performing our jobs, theyre a continuum of who we are, not disconnected fragments—at least thats how I feel."

"Ill have to trust you on that," Blaine says. "I guess... Im struggling to feel that commitment at times. This morning, it was hard to... I dont know. Put myself back together? It used to come so naturally to me, I never questioned it or had to apply such effort, but now..." Blaine hesitates and glances at Kurt. "The time we spend together—it feels like the more important thing, but it cant be. Im not more important than the people and worlds under threat. The work should be first in my mind and my heart always. I shouldnt let myself be so distracted—or self-indulgent."

Kurt scowls.

"Have I offended you? I dont mean that being with you is unimportant—Im..." Blaine gives up with a sigh. "Im trying to be honest."

"Im grateful for that," Kurt says. "I cant claim to understand how youre feeling, but I understand this is new for you, so its bound to be stressful, even if its all going well between us. But I wonder if youre creating an unnecessary and false choice for yourself?" Kurt says.

"How do you mean?"

"The reason your work matters is because of how this matters." Kurt gestures between them. "Not just what were sharing with one another, but what joy, love, and compassion anyone has and shares in their life with others. Whether family or colleague, friend or lover."

"You mean the ways in which were interconnected emotionally?" Blaine asks.

Kurt nods. "Yes."

"I can appreciate the value of that, of course I can, but isnt that simply part of the foundation of civil society? Not the pursuit of the emotions themselves, but to recognize our mutual responsibility? And even then, that interdependence isnt the primary reason for a politys existence or its protection," Blaine says, and he smiles to soften his words. "Im unsure thats the best lens for assuaging my conscience over feeling selfish. If thats your goal here?"

"Society isnt an edifice, Blaine. Its people. What better reason could there be for its existence than cultivating our emotional lives? And why shouldnt you take part in the happiness youre working to protect? Thats not selfish."

"Its that I fear my work suffering if I cannot find a way to make these transitions, from private to public ways of being," Blaine says. "Our lives, together, are bigger than the self-interest of any single individual—no matter how enlightened or moral that person may be. The work of civilization takes all of us working in concert to build the structures that may sustain us all."

"Sustain?" Kurt asks. He shakes his head. "Sometimes, Blaine, you talk about your work as if its something abstract from individual human experiences. As if it exists because you have some honor bound duty to The Greater Good. But the reason to do the work you do is for the preservation of our lives and joy as individuals: thats the true commonwealth. Which may seem a smaller good in comparison—an individuals, or your, happiness—but taken together, across billions of peoples lives? Thats, to me, reason enough. You neednt martyr yourself."

"Not a fan of self-sacrifice then?" Blaine asks with humor.

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he grins. "Not institutionally or as a culturally enshrined virtue. If everyone spends their days working miserably hard so abstract future others can have—whatever is deemed worth that sacrifice of happiness—then all you have is a system where no one gets to enjoy the benefits of their work. And whats the point of that?"

"Posterity, I fear, isnt an answer youll find terribly satisfying," Blaine says drolly.

"Because the only time we have is now!" Kurt says. "Why sacrifice ourselves to a future that will only be sacrificing itself too, on and on, with no goal but its own self-congratulatory zeal? When do we decide its enough to end the cycle of virtuous self-sacrifice and let people find and hold onto personal happiness? Its not selfish to seek happiness. I believe its morally right to maximize it."

"Then shouldnt it be equally moral to try to minimize and eliminate sources of suffering?" Blaine counters.

"Of course it is," Kurt says. "If I didnt believe that, I wouldnt be supporting Isabelles politics or my brothers decision to enlist in the Navy or my fathers political career. People are dying, theres no way around that terrible truth. So I feel we must make sure those deaths—if they are so inevitable—matter. And that means fighting, which does involve sacrifice. I understand that, but its that sort of sacrifice that many Elyssians are loathe to even discuss. Easier to avoid and distract, which is not the answer either. To use the pursuit of pleasures to hide from the necessary difficult work? Thats folly, I would agree. But thats not what were doing, you and I."

Kurts scowl deepens. "Because, at the same time, I believe its vital we dont let the crisis strip away our reasons for fighting in the first place. We should live as fully as we can for as long as were free too. But not blindly. Hardship will find us regardless, I fear."

Blaine nods. "I just—I dont believe future well-being should be sacrificed for transient personal pleasures, no matter how..." And he slides Kurt a smile he hopes conveys his appreciation of their time together. "Compelling it may be."

"I never said you should. You must believe as I do that there can be a middle way." Kurt says. "That weve more than two options? Despite what I understand of your cultures prejudices toward Elyssia, were not all decadent solipsists wallowing in the excesses of drugs and sex."

"You know I dont believe that of you, and I hope you can see that were not all joyless cogs in a soulless machine," Blaine says, gently now to ease the tension that grown between them. "The Ambassador cares deeply—and so do I."

"I know," Kurt says, just as gently, and he smiles with affection. "None of us would be here if at least some of our leaders didnt know better too."

"And as we both know, humans have been arguing over these kinds of principles since we first gave the whole civilization thing a shot."

"Theres nothing new under the sun—it doesnt matter which sun," Kurt muses.

"Maybe not," Blaine says with a laugh, "But youre right about something."

"Oh, how generous of you," Kurt teases.

"Im serious," Blaine says. He pulls Kurt to a stop, takes his other hand, and draws him toward him so theyre facing one another. Kurts giving him an arched eyebrow and a sardonic twist of his mouth. Even wry and skeptical, hes the most beautiful person. Blaine cant help but smile at him. This feeling—this knowledge—he does know the words for. "The value of those thoughts, these conversations and arguments we have, the other things we share—both the pleasures and the pains?" He squeezes Kurts hands. "Especially the pleasures. Even if none of them is new to humanity as a whole—theyre new to each of us as individuals when we encounter them and cultivate them, and those experiences have value, they do matter."

"So Ive convinced you?"

"We need to convince my government that the intrinsic value of our shared humanity, is in the dignity and value of our individual lives." Blaine says. "Itll be a challenging argument to make at home, where many traditionalists feel that dignity must be earned and actively maintained through the work of citizenship, that its not simply our birthright. But youve helped me unravel a few knots in some communications strategy the Ambassador has tasked me with," Blaine says. "Thank you."

"Oh?" Kurt says, and he twists his shoulders, flirting now. "Thats right, what did your major say about me? Im a man of diverse skills or something?"

"Indeed you are," Blaine says, and he puts his thoughts to words to strengthen the thread of the idea. "With the Charn it is a battle for humanitys existence, right? And existence is—" Blaine looks at Kurt. "This. What exists in a life, the moments we share. The things our lives create and how we experience it all. And some of that is for posterity, which is rightly for the benefit of all of us, not merely the preservation of static institutions and ossified ideas. People arent abstractions."

For a moment the magnitude of it reels in Blaines head. Humanity, having lost their home on Earth, scattered to the stellar winds on the seven ships with little hope to find new homes. Two ships survived—the Colombia and the Aurelia, and the Aurelia barely. Hes still integrating the legends and history of Apathea with what hes learning here, but the shapes of truth are emerging from the shadows of mythology.

What is beyond doubt is how the actions of their crews and passengers to not only survive adversity—as Apathea has—but also to flourish—as the Elyssians have—has led to (among others) this singular moment between he and Kurt. The peoples of the other five ships couldve been be lost centuries ago for all Blaine might guess, so for all those individuals existences that mayve been erased along with whatever bright things mightve blossomed from their futures, he knows this fight must be won, and it will take the knitting together of these two divergent human cultures to do it.

"So yes, youve convinced me." Blaine says, and he feels the urgency of it then, the blood in his body, his heartbeat, the way he longs for Kurt. More of Kurt, more time, more laughter, more touches and conversation and joy yet to be shared. For all the good reasons to try to save a human civilization, this is not the least of them.

Kurt must see it in his face. He reaches for Blaine, catches his chin with a bent finger, and kisses his mouth, once, chaste but lingering, and though streams of people move past them, Blaine doesnt care if theyre seen.

Blaine closes his eyes, breaks the kiss, and whispers against Kurts cheek. "I feel so alive when Im with you."

Kurt smiles against his skin. "Come with me?" he says. "I want to take you somewhere else."

.

They descend several levels in the lift, down below the docking level even, into the depths of engineering. Its clear Kurt knows his way around the narrower maze of corridors. Curious, Blaine asks, "Whats down here?"

"More life," Kurt says. "And more privacy—usually."

Its to the horticultural vaults Kurt brings Blaine. Theyre nestled close to the ships power cores for the heat, and theyre nothing like the austere hydroponic bays of the Apathean guild ships. But nor are they quite as grand and decorative as The Galactic Diamonds central atrium garden. Nevertheless, the interlocking array of diffusely lit domes evokes the architecture of a temple. The beds of various plants are intermixed with a sensibility thats equally aesthetic and practical, and the gravel paths between them eschew a rigid grid to wander organically through the space.

"Much of your meals come from here," Kurt says as they make their way among between the beds with the gravel crunching beneath their shoes. "I like to come down to walk sometimes—its peaceful, the rhythm of the watering system, the hum of the cultivators and harvesters. Its a good place to find solitude in the afternoons if I need to clear my head. Most of the human activity happens in the mornings and evenings."

"Do people make love here too?" Blaine asks.

Kurt looks at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Im sure some do, but generally, no? Its not one of the usual venues."

"Ah," Blaine says. "Thats not why youve brought me, then."

A laugh. "Are you disappointed?"

Blaine shakes his head, embarrassed. "I shouldnt assume such things, I apologize."

"No need. I know how its been on your mind," Kurt says. Blaine opens his mouth to offer some explanation, but Kurt laughs gently, and continues. "Its been nearly all I can think about, too. New affairs are like this—unsettling with so much passion in the wanting. But I find, enjoying the anticipation can be a wonderful kind of foreplay too."

"You enjoy the wanting and the waiting?" Blaine asks.

"Dont you?" Kurt asks.

"I hadnt thought of it as something to be enjoyed, but rather... endured."

"Goal oriented, I see," Kurt says with a grin. "But process is rewarding too. Ill take you to the spa tonight."

"As foreplay?" Blaine asks.

"Mmhm," Kurt says, "But even more than that, I enjoy our conversations."

"As do I," Blaine says. "So, um, why bring me to the horticultural vaults then?"

"You said being with me makes you feel alive, and here—its one of the places that makes me feel alive, being among all this life being nurtured to, in turn, nurture us. Its part of the cycle of nature. The stars outside, these plants in here, us. Growing up where I did, I like to stay connected to that understanding, and I wanted to share it with you. You like strawberries, dont you?"

"Yes, my grandmother—as youll no doubt know—grew them in her garden."

"Here," Kurt says, and he squats beside a bed of familiar looking plants. The strawberries are small and bright among the triplets of serrated leaves. He picks one and hands it up to Blaine, who takes it and holds it in his hand.

Its warm and shiny. His mouth waters and he lets himself experience and enjoy the anticipation before he puts the fruit, whole, into his mouth and bites down, savoring the rush of its distinctive fragrant sweetness. It tastes like spring and childhood—all good memories. "Thank you," he says.

"Do you still get homesick?" Kurt asks.

"For my family?" Blaine asks and Kurt nods. "Its been seven years since Ive been home," Blaine says. "I try not to look back too often."

"Because of work?" Kurt asks. He picks another few strawberries and passes the small handful to Blaine.

"Partly," Blaine says. "Once a person leaves home at sixteen, theyre meant to establish themselves as adults before returning to their parents as equals. Custom makes that a ten year span, unless one marries young. Which requires parental endorsement, legally speaking."

Kurt tilts his head and stands, brushing his hands off against one another. "Your world has so many arbitrary seeming rules. Why is that?"

Blaine frowns, for Kurts is a serious question—one rarely asked among Apathean citizenry these days. But its also one hes been considering himself more often. He has some ideas. "In the early years, marriages required government permission and sanction if they werent outright arranged by the Office of Sustainable Reproduction," Blaine says, "so, believe it or not, this is better, a nod to the traditions some still value because its the way its been for generations. Parents rarely deny a marriage request."

"For what reason did the government restrict marriage like that?"

"To compare the genetics of the petitioners," Blaine says. "To maximize the diversity of our children."

"I dont understand," Kurt says warily. "Some kind of eugenics?"

"Not exactly," Blaine replies. "It wasnt about favoring specific traits or trying to build some supposedly better human, but rather to maintain and try to restore diversity to a small, vulnerable population. I dont know how much you know of the early history of Apatheas settlement. The planet wasnt the first choice of the settlers."

"I understand the Aurelia was lost along with many of her data stores and computers, but Im more familiar with your recent history than your settlement."

"As well as the ship herself and data stores, Aurelia lost many of her passengers and crew," Blaine says. "Since our sun is a young blue star, our planet was barely habitable at the time of settlement: all it had going for it was a magnetic field that allowed it keep both an atmosphere and liquid water—and not much of either. Apathea was otherwise lifeless and oxygen poor—too young for even the simplest of autotrophs to have evolved, and she had no complex organics.

"Legend has it, the Aurelia entered the system to scout for habitable worlds—she had two promising looking contenders, Apathea and Ekratea, and Ekratea was the more favorable of the two. But there was an accident—some say a collision with an asteroid, others suggest a powerful solar flare knocked out the ships computer systems and crippled her. It could have been one and then the other. Regardless, she crashed on Apathea, and while all her life pods launched, not all were recovered, and of the population who survived her initial crash, less than a quarter survived the first year."

"Oh." Kurts eyes widen. "So that trauma has embedded itself in your culture?" Kurt asks.

"Thats not entirely wrong, I dont think," Blaine says. "What virtues aided our survival then, survived with us, even if some may seem strange or oppressive now. That we survived—again—the war with the Charn, confirmed for many traditionalists, the success of methods and institutions which may now be overly rigid and—" Blaine breaks off with a sigh and a smile for Kurt. He doesnt want to venture into those internal issues of Apathean politics now, theyve not much time left before Blaine needs to get to the afternoons work. "Well, its a challenging time, politically, for us all."

Kurt nods, his expression serious. "It helps me understand... some things," Kurt says, "I hope you havent found me horribly judgmental, Blaine, of your world. Or of you."

"Believe it or not, youre the person with whom I least fear judgment."

But Kurts smile is shallow as he looks thoughtfully about at the rows of fruit trees and vines, the smaller shrubs and slender grain-bearing grasses. "I dont believe in taking any of this for granted," he says. "For I understand the care and time and expertise that it takes. But we were lucky on Elyssia—it was, history tells us, a paradise when we found it. The well deserved reward at the end of a long journey, and for us, celebrating and honoring that has become the central affirmation of our culture. Some saw the hand of providence in it—some still do. But truly, we were lucky to be able to set down our burdens. But I worry..."

"About?"

"That, for us, picking up a new burden, like facing the Charn threat, which is, as you said, a fight for our existence." Kurt blinks and breaks off. "I expect we have a lot to learn from you."