Blaine is gone when Kurt wakes up. The worst part is, he minds.

Kurt slowly pulls himself up until he’s sitting, and looks around. It’s stupid, and Kurt mentally berates himself for caring that his brute of a bedmate is gone. Mate. Kurt shakes his head, rubs a hand along his skull, tries to wake up a little more. What foolish nonsense.

He was just feeling lonely last night. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more, and it’s easy to believe when there isn’t a warm body snug against his. He looks for something else to focus on -- he’s hungry and he needs a bath. If anything has suffered by him holing up in this sad excuse for a house, it’s his hygiene.

Quinn arrives soon enough, as expected, and brings breakfast. He inquires about the bath and learns that there is a river to bathe in. Kurt’s jaw drops, suitably horrified that there isn’t a basin, or at least hot water. �He argues with Quinn for twenty minutes about the benefits of a hot bath, which include being clean. She says he’s welcome to build himself a tub and heat water in a pot, but beyond that there isn’t much to be done about it. He broods over breakfast and through most of their lesson.

Toward late afternoon Quinn starts to complain about stomach pains. Kurt looks up in alarm.

“Are you going to have the baby?”

“What? No, no, it would be far too early. I think I need to go lay down, though,” she says, holding her belly.

Kurt twists the fabric of his shirt nervously. “Maybe you should just lay down here, that way you don’t have to do all that climbing.”

Quinn is already moving toward the door, though. She pauses to give Kurt a strange sort of smile. It makes him feel self-conscious and he twists the hem of his shirt a bit tighter.� “I’ll be fine, Kurt. I promise. Enjoy your free afternoon,” she says as she starts to climb down.

“Okay,” Kurt replies, quiet.

Kurt sits on the ledge and watches the people below. There isn’t much going on, and he can’t help but wonder what these people do with their days. There always seem to be so many more around in the evenings. There is a clearing below where people gather, but no one’s there now.

It is boring, and lonely, so Kurt decides to finally be done with his self-imposed isolation and find that river Quinn spoke of. She made it sound like it wasn’t so very far away, and he is beginning to smell.

Kurt descends the rope ladder carefully, ignoring the small swoop of his stomach every time the ladder bends from his movements. When he reaches solid earth he looks around, hands clammy and legs shaky from nerves. He feels exposed, vulnerable. There’s a girl, a short brunette, across the way, who’s looking at him curiously. He lifts his chin and lets go of the ladder, pretending he belongs, pretending he knows where he’s going.

“North and past the wood heap,” he murmurs to himself, walking briskly.

It isn’t long before Kurt hears the sound of moving water and the river comes into view. The river isn’t overly large, at least not here, yet Kurt can’t help but be intimidated. He has never swum in anything in life and he certainly doesn’t fancy the idea of touching a fish. But he is sweaty and itchy and it needs to be done, so his clothes come off and he steps into the cool depths. Cold, not cool. Freezing, even. Kurt hurries and walks into deeper water, submerging himself so he can get it over with. His teeth are chattering as he scrubs his skin, his scalp, fingers getting caught in his hair in his haste.

“This is absolute torture,” he says, even if no one is around to hear it.

Once he feels he has cleaned himself as best he can without soap, Kurt hurries back to the bank. He squeezes the water from his hair, fumbles to put his clothes back on. All he wants now is to go curl up in bed where it’s warm and dry. As he is hurrying back he trips over something, and just as he hits the ground he goes flying upward with a shriek.

Rope digs into Kurt’s legs and arms where it’s supporting his weight in the middle of the air. Kurt panics and grabs at the rope, and the…whatever he’s caught in, some kind of rope net, trying to stop it from spinning.

“Help!” he calls out, looking down, searching the jungle below for a sign of anything, anyone.

Kurt calls out again and again, fingers clutching the rope until they’re numb. His throat has gone sore and he leans back, closing his eyes. What if no one finds him for days? He can’t be sure how frequently these people bathe.

Just when Kurt is about to start yelling again he hears rustling in the brush below. His eyes flash open and he searches the dense green for movement. “Hello?”

The net begins to lower, and Kurt sees the source of the noise. A tall man with short brown hair and a thin face is working at getting Kurt down. Kurt knows this in Maelin, so he calls out a slightly squeaky, but completely grateful, thank you.

The man doesn’t say anything in return until Kurt reaches the ground, the ropes draped limply over him. It’s Maelin, and Kurt can make out you and man and Blaine, but it takes a moment for his mind to even place the words, and as a collective he doesn’t know what the man is trying to say.

The man simply circles him.

Kurt tries to say he only knows a little Maelin in Maelin, but isn’t sure how well he succeeds. He ends his attempt with, “so I’m not sure what you’re saying,” in his own language, hoping it will drive the point across that he isn’t fluent.

“Mm. I talk a little your language,” the man says, surprising Kurt. His accent is much thicker than Quinn’s. He has a cocky way about him, something sleazy in his voice that makes Kurt distrustful.

“Well, what a relief,” Kurt says, either way. “Thank you for letting me down. Is this some kind of hunting trap?”

“Hunting trap, yes,” the man says, crouching down in front of Kurt. He starts cutting at the top of the net with a large knife. Kurt’s eyes bug out a little, where had he even gotten that from?

“Um, so what’s your name?” Kurt asks, sitting still as the man works at the rope.

“Sebastian.”

“I’m Kurt—”

“I know.”

Sebastian seems kind of rude, but he is helping Kurt out, so Kurt merely keeps his mouth shut and waits for him to finish. When the net is in a messy pile around him, Kurt stands. As he does, Sebastian takes his hands. “Uh—”

Sebastian loops a length of rope around each of his wrists. What is with these people and not asking before they do things?

“What are you doing?”

Sebastian pulls the rope tight, tying it.

“Ow—what—”

Sebastian ties them with a second rope, individual knots. Kurt struggles, but Sebastian pulls hard, making him cry out because it feels like his wrists are going to snap.

“You’re Blaine’s nothing,” Sebastian says, his face close, hand clamped over the ropes around Kurt’s wrists. His mouth is drawn up in a sneer, eyes sharp and locked on Kurt’s. “His toy.”

“Excuse me—” But Kurt ‘s protests are cut off when Sebastian grabs him up, flinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Kurt can hardly believe this is happening. He struggles, kicks his feet, but Sebastian holds tight.

“If you kick and scream I cut your belly open and feed you to the lions,” Sebastian barks.

Kurt remembers Sebastian’s knife and goes still, tense and confused. “I didn’t do anything,” he ventures, meekly. “I—don’t know what you think I’ve done to Blaine—”

“Shut your mouth,” Sebastian says. “Blaine is too good for you. He need a strong mate, not a little girl.”

Kurt’s mouth opens in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the threat of knives and lions. “Girl? I’m not a girl.”

Any possible retorts are cut off by a booming, “Sebastian!”

Kurt cranes his neck, trying to see, but Sebastian’s body is blocking him. Sebastian stops walking, freezes on the spot.

“Blaine,” Sebastian says, voice trying at placating. He says something in Maelin, but all Kurt can catch is I and him.

Blaine replies, Kurt hears why and where. Kurt wriggles, he can just make out Blaine standing in front of Sebastian, an expression of absolute rage on his face. Or at least that’s how it seems upside down.

Sebastian grows angry and throws his free hand up, saying something so rapidly there isn’t a chance Kurt can decipher it. Blaine laughs without humor, his reply unintelligible. Sebastian growls, and it’s all the warning Kurt has before he’s thrown down. Kurt lets out an embarrassing yelp, wincing at how hard his hip hits the ground. He hears Blaine call Sebastian’s name, and he tries to sit up to see, to get away if he has to. His leg is throbbing now and his wrists have gone numb from how tightly they’re tied.

Kurt looks up, but he barely has Blaine in his sights before Blaine is hauling him up, hands firm under his armpits. Blaine still looks angry, and Kurt tries to hide how frightened he feels, but he knows he’s doing a poor job of it. His mouth opens to speak, but Blaine is manhandling him and he loses whatever he was going to say. He stumbles, manages to get out wait and is ignored, back hitting a tree trunk. “Blaine,” Kurt exhales, but it’s swallowed up by Blaine’s mouth on his.

Kurt’s eyes close on instinct, and Blaine floods his senses. No longer does he feel the biting pull of the rope or the soreness of his hip. Everything is Blaine kissing him hard and demanding, that woodsy smell with the slight tang of sweat that is so very Blaine. One of Blaine’s hands is in his hair, holding almost tight enough to hurt, except it doesn’t, the pain feels good. Blaine’s other hand moves to Kurt’s jaw, pulling down, and at the same moment his tongue pushes into Kurt’s mouth , and that’s new, and gods what kind of kissing had he been doing that wasn’t this? Blaine’s tongue is warm and moving and Kurt doesn’t understand, it’s obscene and he wants it. He doesn’t know why, it doesn’t matter, he wants it in his mouth, he wants to taste it with his. He submits to Blaine’s mouth, wonders if he could choke on Blaine’s tongue, the thickness of it.

Blaine stops and Kurt lets out a soft whimper, leaning forward, trying to follow Blaine’s mouth. Blaine makes a sound like a growl and drags his lips along Kurt’s jaw, breathing hot against his ear for just a moment. There’s a low rumbled, “Mine,” and then Blaine is kissing his neck. Kurt shivers and cries out softly because Blaine is pulling his hair, pulling his head back, making Kurt arch toward him. Blaine’s body presses close, only Kurt’s tied hands between them. He flexes his fingers, scrabbles for a hold on Blaine’s tunic, but Blaine pays him no mind and it only makes the ropes cut at his wrists. What began as kissing has now turned into Blaine sucking at the skin of his bared neck. Kurt’s eyes are half-closed and aimed at the sky, mouth parted in silent confusionexcitmentpleasure. The suction gets progressively more intense and Kurt whines, gasps when Blaine yanks his hair roughly, pulling his neck taut, sucking harder. There are noises coming from Kurt he’s never heard before. There is the scrape of stubble against Kurt’s Adam’s apple, the graze of teeth along his delicate skin. Kurt’s hips jerk of their own accord, and he realizes he’s hard and there is a throbbing ache down there, and gods, Blaine presses closer, closer and Kurt can feel him suffering from the same affliction against his thigh. What does it mean? What is this and why does it feel so good and scary all at once?

Blaine abruptly lets go of Kurt’s hair and pulls back, eyes dark and mouth swollen. Kurt looks at him through a haze. He has so many questions, so much to say, but he can only look, his breathing labored, body tingling, heart pounding.

“Mine,” Blaine repeats. He takes a knife from his belt and lifts Kurt’s wrists, cutting through the rope keeping them tied together. There is knotted rope still remaining around his wrists, perhaps too tight for Blaine to attempt just yet as he re-sheaths his weapon.

Blaine steps forward and makes to carry Kurt, and Kurt finally breaks out of his neck-kissed stupor and takes a step back. “No,” he says, voice coming out slightly hoarse. “I can walk. I’m not injured.”

Blaine can’t understand him, so Kurt walks, demonstrating his ability to remain mobile with a brief rolling of his eyes. Blaine’s stern expression lingers and he takes Kurt’s hand. Kurt lets him, Blaine leading the way back to his village. He briefly wonders if he should have fought Blaine, but he knows that Blaine won’t hurt him.

Unseen by Blaine, Kurt raises a hand to his neck where Blaine’s mouth had given such strange pleasure. He’s still half-hard, it’s like he can feel his blood pulsing through his veins. He doesn’t know what all that was for, why someone would want to do such things to another’s neck, but it felt…it felt incredible. Is that why he’d done it? Had he wanted to make Kurt feel good? Perhaps he wanted to distract him from what Sebastian had done. Kurt cuts Blaine’s profile a shy smile, and silently follows, picking his way carefully over the jungle floor.

----

When they return to the village it is nearing dusk and there are many more people around than when Kurt had initially ventured out. All of them, or seemingly all of them, look over when he and Blaine come into view, and Kurt becomes all too aware of Blaine’s hand around his, guiding him like a child. Selfishly, Kurt wants to yank it away. He nearly does, but imagines it would cause even more of a spectacle, and that’s the last thing he wants. He remembers, too, how Blaine saved him. Blaine is just extending a kindness, and maybe Kurt will let him this once.

A few of the looks he’s receiving don’t seem friendly, and Kurt moves closer to Blaine, self-consciousness making him meek. He walks the rest of the way nearly pressed to Blaine’s back, wishing to shrink and hide behind him, but though Blaine is stockier and stronger, Kurt is taller and it’s almost comically impossible.

There is a rush of relief when they reach Blaine’s house. Blaine lets go of his hand and Kurt waits to follow him up the ladder, but Blaine turns toward him instead.

“Kurt…” He says something in Maelin, and Kurt’s face scrunches in confusion. He makes out you and another word sounds familiar, but he doesn’t know and shakes his head in confusion. Blaine points to his own back and then Kurt, taking Kurt’s hands and turning so his back is once more to Kurt.

Oh.

“There is no way—” But Blaine is pulling his arms and unless Kurt wants to fight him, his only other option is to wrap his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and hold on. So he does, feeling ridiculous, legs winding around Blaine’s waist as Blaine begins to carry them both up the rope ladder. It’s mortifying, honestly, but just as the contrariety of the hair pulling, it’s kind of lovely, too, and Kurt hides his face in the back of Blaine’s neck.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to climb the ladder? He didn’t break my fingers, you know,” Kurt says when they’ve made it up. Blaine sets him down gently, and leads him over to the bed by both hands. Blaine sits him down, and cheeks flaming, Kurt’s eyes never leave him.

“This sudden display of affection isn’t going to make me like you, you know,” Kurt adds without much conviction, and Blaine stops his words with a finger pressed to his lips.

Blaine moves away and pokes around his shelf for something, returning with a small jar and a smaller knife than before. He brings Kurt’s hands, palms up, to rest on his thighs, and gently cuts away the rope wrapped around his wrists. The skin is pink and red and rubbed fairly raw, and when Blaine accidentally presses against it with his thumb Kurt lets out a low whine.

“Sorry,” Blaine murmurs in Maelin. Blaine swipes his fingers into the jar and they come out covered in a pale greenish salve. He dabs it carefully along the injured skin of Kurt’s wrists, brows furrowed in concentration. Blaine’s touch and the cool relief of the medicine makes Kurt shiver, makes his skin tingle. Kurt sucks his lower lip into his mouth, glancing up at Blaine through his lashes. Blaine looks so much older and so masterful, even with such a small task.

When he’s finished, Blaine walks across the room and leaves the treehouse entirely. Kurt watches him disappear past the ledge and sighs, laying back on the bed for lack of anything else to do. He’s hungry, but he doesn’t want to go down there now, not after everyone watched him be carried up, not after Sebastian.

Kurt assumes Blaine isn’t coming back, so it startles him when he hears the smack of hands and feet on wood and looks over to see Blaine pulling himself up. He’s brought a basket of food with him and settles on the bed, urging Kurt to sit. Kurt obliges, his stomach rumbling and voicing his thoughts for him. Dinner appears to be hare, carrots, and grapes. Blaine tears a piece of meat free and holds it out to Kurt. Kurt reaches to take it with his fingers, but Blaine stays his hand, opening his own mouth with a quiet ah. Kurt stares blankly a moment, until Blaine nudges the meat against his lips. Blushing, Kurt opens his mouth and allows Blaine to slip the meat inside. He chews, licking the juice from his lip afterward, eyes on Blaine’s.

Blaine takes his turn, and continues to go back and forth between them, feeding Kurt by hand. Kurt has never been fed. Once, when he was very ill he remembers a nursemaid spoon-feeding him soup, but not since he was a child has he ever been treated so preciously.

As Kurt closes his mouth around the last piece of meat, Blaine doesn’t pull his hand back fast enough. Kurt gives the pad of Blaine’s thumb a soft kiss to thank him. Blaine smiles, but there’s an intensity to his gaze that makes Kurt lower his eyes demurely. He should feel humiliated, he isn’t an infant, he isn’t injured to the point that he can’t hold a fork. He doesn’t, though. He feels cared for.

When Blaine finishes, he holds Kurt’s hands in his and looks him in the eyes, saying something Kurt can’t discern in a quiet voice. Kurt absently shakes his head and murmurs a reply, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Blaine doesn’t answer. He’s so close, and the way he’s looking at Kurt, Kurt knows what’s coming. Blaine’s mouth finds his and he doesn’t try to stop him. Blaine kisses him soft and sweet, unlike earlier. Unlike the first time, unlike any of the times Kurt has ever been kissed. Blaine’s lips are so soft, Kurt loses himself in the warmth that starts at his mouth and fills his whole body. He cracks his eyes open to see the blur of colors that make up Blaine’s face, and when Blaine pulls back their eyes find each other’s. Kurt has a desperate urge to beg him back. Everything melts away when Blaine touches him, and Kurt can’t decide if it’s the best or worst part about him.

Blaine gets up, saying something Kurt can’t understand. Kurt swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, watching, wondering where Blaine’s going.� He departs down the ladder, and with his absence reality returns. Kurt looks around the empty, shadowed room. He looks down at his injured wrists. He waits up, but this time Blaine doesn’t come back.