Kurt clutched his father’s hand, head bent, tears streaming down his face. It was too much — first his mother, and now this? His father was all Kurt had left in the world, the loss of him was unimaginable. Kurt kissed his father’s knuckles, praying, begging for the Gods to be merciful and let him keep his father.

“Kurt, no,” Burt’s voice came out raspy, punctured with a cough Kurt could feel deep in his own chest. “Don’t touch me…couldn’t bear the thought of you gettin’ sick too…”

“I don’t care,” Kurt wailed. “I’ll go with you. Please, please don’t leave me.”

“Kurt…”

“I can’t lose you—” Kurt bit back another sob, sucking in an unsteady breath.

“Kurt, your aunt will take care of you.” Burt’s eyebrows were drawn up, he looked so sad. His face was pale from illness and each breath taken was labored. Kurt couldn’t stand to see him like this, just as mother had looked not a month ago before the gods had taken her from both of them.

“I don’t want her. I don’t even know her. She doesn’t love me.”

“She’s family, Kurt…she’ll take care of you…just try, for your old man?” Burt asked, attempting a smile that threatened to tear Kurt’s heart right from his chest.

Kurt nodded, wiping his face ineffectually on his shirt sleeve.

“You gotta be strong now, Kurt, okay? Be strong for yourself…and you know, you get a little older…and,” he paused, coughing hard. “It won’t always feel like this. You’ll meet a…well, you’ll meet somebody like I met your mom…an’ you’ll be happy.”

“I don’t ever want to marry,” Kurt said, nose wrinkled, too young for the idea to have much appeal.

“Yeah? Bet you ten gold you change your mind,” Burt said with a faint smile.

“Dad.”

“Hey, you’re gonna live in the castle, you can afford it.”

“Dad,” Kurt repeated, smiling shakily through his tears.

Burt coughed again, and when he smiled his eyes were watery, too. His voice sounded breathy and weak. “Y’know…you might be King someday.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, trying so very hard not to cry again. “Sue will have children eventually.”

“Don’t let her be too hard on you, Kurt,” Burt struggled to say. He coughed again, longer this time, his handkerchief stained with red flecks. “What do I always say?”

“Dad, shh, please,” Kurt begged.

“Kurt?”

“’N-no one pushes the Hummels around,’” Kurt said, clutching his father’s hand so tight.

Burt was trying to smile, but Kurt could see it was hard for him to move anymore. “That’s right. I’m so…proud of you, kid…love you so much. I want you to remember…” There was another coughing fit, and Burt could hardly hold his eyes open. “Want you…want you to remember that.”

“I love you, daddy, please don’t…please, oh gods…”

Burt struggled to say Kurt’s name, but after a few more weak coughs and wheezing breaths, his body went still.

“No!” Kurt wailed. “Daddy.”

Kurt covered his father’s chest, mashing his face against his father’s shoulder as though if he held him tight enough, his father’s soul would stay in his body. Kurt sobbed, shoulders shaking, hands trembling. He cried until he could barely breathe and every movement was dizzy.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Kurt gasped, fingers curling in the fabric of his father’s shirt. “I don’t want to be alone.”

----

Kurt wakes up alone.

He’s carved a small niche into the wooden wall alongside the bed where he stores a stick of charcoal. He uses it every morning when he wakes up to tally the days. Eighty seven days, it reads, that Blaine has been gone. Eighty seven days without good morning kisses and sweet smiles. Who would have ever thought he could miss someone he couldn’t even talk to so much?

But he can’t stop thinking about Blaine, and he can’t get rid of the awful, lingering feeling that something bad is going to happen. That it already did happen. That all that will be left of Blaine is a ripped shirt and a bloodied, unbreathing body. It wakes him up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting as though he’s run a mile, searching the bed for someone who isn’t there. He barely gets any sleep, and the days have both stretched beyond their hours and bled into each other.

It’s been around three months, but Quinn has assured him every day that this is not uncommon. That sometimes these expeditions have even lasted half a year, and more. Traveling and trading takes time, she told him, it’s unpredictable and if anything had happened they would have sent a messenger back. ‘What if something happened to the messenger?’ Kurt always counters with. At that point Quinn usually rolls her eyes and makes him work on his verbs.

Not that he needs the lessons anymore. After redoubling his efforts, Kurt can have conversations. He understands and speaks with ease. Quinn is teaching him far less basic vocabulary now, words like circumference and grand, the names of plants, obscure adverbs. She has taught him the words for body parts, taking a perverse sort of joy, Kurt thinks, when she got to the private ones. She even tried to give him some sort of sex lesson, but he had put his fingers in his ears and sung loudly until she finally gave up. So they have continued the lessons. Kurt has been incessant about it, obsessed with learning and memorizing so he can think of something other than Blaine, telling himself how impressed Blaine will be when he returns and Kurt can speak so well.

Because he will return. Kurt tells himself this over and over when doubt creeps in, because he does doubt it. All the time. Sometimes the fear of having lost Blaine for good grips him so tight he has trouble breathing. It is pathetic, Kurt has also told himself more than once, to realize the depths of your feelings for someone when they aren’t even there.� It isn’t that he didn’t know, he just didn’t know how much. Hadn’t let himself. But now, all he has is time to think.

----

Kurt drags his feet, not bothering to change from the clothes he slept in, hair uncombed. He’s sleepy and he just wants some breakfast, maybe then he’ll care. The clearing is unusually noisy this morning, and Kurt lets out a small, grumpy huff as his feet hit the ground. He turns toward the fire pit and stops short when he sees Finn off to the right. Finn is next to his horse, helping down a woman Kurt has never seen before with long brown hair. It’s enough to momentarily distract him from the fact that it’s Finn. Finn is back.

Which means…

Kurt looks around wildly, heart lodged in his throat. Everyone is back, it’s noisy because everyone is here. Please, let it be everyone, Kurt thinks desperately, when he hears laughter. He knows that laugh, it pulls at something in his chest; but where?

And then he sees it, sandy brown with a black mane, Blaine’s horse. And Blaine. He’s here, sitting atop his stallion, hands on the reins, guiding his horse into the clearing. He’s wearing the shirt Kurt made him. He’s tan and beautiful and almost unrecognizable. He’s returned with enough facial hair to be considered no mere scruff, and the hair on his head is longer and sticking out in unusual tufts. He looks so different, but Kurt would know those lion’s eyes anywhere, the endearing point of his eyebrows. The sun glows behind Blaine in a halo of gold, but the real light comes when Blaine smiles down at him, and Kurt is ready to climb right over the horse to get to him.

Blaine saves him the trouble, sliding down his horse with ease. Seeing Blaine there, whole and alive, sets Kurt’s heart at ease, and then all at once, aflame. He crosses the distance between them, stopping short in front of Blaine, ignoring the grin on his face, the tunic he’s chosen to wear. That ridiculous beard.

“You couldn’t have said goodbye to me?” Kurt snaps. It’s like a dam breaking, spilling out his feeling. �“You didn’t think it would behoove you to wake me up and tell me a kindness or two before you abandoned me for months? You brought me here and you…you made me like you! And that’s how you treat me?”

Blaine simply stands there through Kurt’s tirade with an incredulous sort of open-mouthed smile on his face, it’s so stupid that Kurt is tempted to pounce and maim.

“Well! Don’t you have anything to say?” His voice rises.

Blaine’s jaw finally finds itself in working condition, but his expression far from sobers. “You can speak!” he says. “And so well! I don’t even know what behoove means--”

“Of course I can! What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Knitting!?” Kurt says, physically stopping himself from stomping a foot or pummeling Blaine’s stupid chest with his fists. His face goes hot and his eyes prickle with the threat of tears, infuriated that Blaine would focus on something so trivial when Kurt is clearly angry with him.

Blaine raises his hands, palms up, as though to placate. “No, no, it’s only that I was so used to hearing your language that I hadn’t expected to be able to talk to you--”

“I don’t care. Are you pleased to be back, or am I just some amusement for you?” Kurt asks, his voice embarrassingly thick.

“Kurt.” Blaine says his name so softly, to hear it again in his voice, the way he draws it out just a little, the way he says it like no one else, is almost enough to make Kurt forget his anger. “I’m sorry. I knew you were still half-asleep when I left, but I was afraid if I’d stayed longer I wouldn’t have been able to leave, and I had to go.” Blaine touches his fingers to Kurt’s cheeks, and then his whole hands, framing Kurt’s face, eyes searching. It doesn’t soothe Kurt as likely intended, not exactly. “I missed you, I missed you so much there aren’t words in my language to describe it. …Well, maybe you know them, but I don’t.”

Kurt’s reply come out hushed. “I missed you too.”

Blaine smiles so sweetly that Kurt can’t help but smile back. “But I’m still mad at you,” he’s quick to add.

Blaine presses their foreheads together with a sigh. “Quinn warned me you might end up stabbing me with that knife I gave you.”

“That was an odd gift.”

“It was to protect yourself! Or to hunt with.”

“Do I look like I’m the sort to go hunting?” Kurt asks, hands finding their way to the front of Blaine’s shirt and holding on.

“I wouldn’t disbelieve it,” Blaine says, tracing Kurt’s bicep. “It looks like you’ve put on some muscle.”

Kurt’s face goes warm. “Well, your house is only accessible by ladder, and there’s a lot of gardening to be done, and it takes more muscle than you’d think!”

“Gardening?” Blaine’s smile grows, finally meeting his eyes.

Kurt huffs. “Yes, you may be Mr. Jungle Huntsman, but it’s all Gatherer over here.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, his voice hooking Kurt somewhere deep and tugging.

Kurt doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to that, but it doesn’t matter because before he can even think, Blaine is cupping his face in both hands and crashing their lips together. Kurt lets out a surprised sound, an overwhelming wash of relief flooding his veins. Blaine must have imagined hesitancy from him, because he begins to pull away. Kurt claws at Blaine’s shirt, fisting it to drag him closer still, and deepens the kiss. Blaine’s arms wrap around him, then, sounds coming from him that Kurt has never heard, this mixture of needy whines and pleasured moans. Blaine is holding him so tightly, hands re-mapping hair and skin and angles and Kurt can’t move, but doesn’t want to. They kiss until Kurt is breathless, until a voice calls out, get a room! and another responds, don’t!

Blaine breaks away with a breathy laugh, and Kurt doesn’t even have it in him to blush. He reaches up, fingertips trailing a curious path along Blaine’s jaw, through the beard, and even further, to feel the tufts of hair that used to be curls. Blaine looks very much the Wildling Kurt imagined from the stories he heard when he was a child.

Blaine traces the planes of Kurt’s face with his lips, beard tickling and scratching, lingering when he reaches Kurt’s mouth. “Still so very beautiful,” he murmurs.

Kurt flounders a little, looking down. It’s so strange to hear Blaine speak and be able to understand him, and then he has to go and say something like that. All those days spent worrying, wondering if Blaine would return, and when he did, if he would still look at Kurt the same way.

“Thank you. So are you,” Kurt says, making Blaine’s smile deepen. He covers Blaine’s hands with his. “Why don’t you put your horse away?”

“Come with me?”

Kurt nods, not intending to let Blaine out of his sight for a long time.

Blaine hands Kurt the reins and unloads his bags from the horse’s back, first, taking them over to his tree’s lift-basket to bring inside later. They walk side by side to the fenced-in area for mounts, a large pasture where the trees are sparse and the grass is plentiful. At the moment Kurt can’t see, but can sense, Blaine next to him. When they reach the pen, Blaine releases his stallion into it, and Kurt watches as Blaine closes the gate. Kurt’s hands curl around the wooden fence rail and the worry that has plagued him for these past two months makes itself known, not satisfied with what Blaine has already shown him.

“I’m relieved you still want me.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything right away, and Kurt can’t look, afraid that this has all been some trick. The kiss, the words, the look in Blaine’s eyes.

“Of course I do,” Blaine says, his voice rough-sounding. Kurt finally looks up. “I always have. Quinn said I had to win your favor. I didn’t know how, I’ve tried—I’d do anything for it.”

“You have it,” Kurt says, cutting Blaine off, pleading with his eyes for Blaine to believe him.

�“You really missed me?” Blaine whispers. He looks so earnestly touched, so moved, that Kurt wants to erase every shred of doubt from his mind.

“So much, I—I just want you to take me home and to lay with me in the bed,” Kurt starts to say, but Blaine is kissing him again before he can finish. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and kisses back, marveling once more at how perfect it feels. Blaine lifts him and Kurt winds his legs around Blaine’s waist as he starts to walk back into the jungle.

Kurt breaks the kiss with a laugh. “You’re going to walk into a tree,” he says, hushed, against Blaine’s ear.

“You asked me to take you home,” Blaine says, and Kurt has to close his eyes a moment he’s so happy. “Do you know a better way?”

Kurt slides down and takes Blaine’s hand. “I know a short-cut.”

----

Blaine kisses Kurt the moment they’re through the door, backing him against the wall, as though he would ever try to escape. Kurt loops his arms around Blaine’s neck, melting against him, telling Blaine how badly he missed him with each tiny moan and swipe of his tongue.� Blaine’s mouth is relentless, his hands pawing over Kurt’s body, throat sounding a frustrated groan as he rucks Kurt’s shirt up. It isn’t enough, and the kiss breaks so Blaine can yank it off him.

�“Careful,” Kurt scolds without meaning it. Blaine ducks down to kiss his neck. His beard scratches and tickles, and Kurt laughs, squirming.

“Mm, Kurt?” Blaine murmurs against his collarbone.

“It’s your beard, Wildling, I can’t help it.”

Blaine looks up with a smile. “Wildling?”

“What my people call you. A Wild man.”

There’s a sly tilt to Blaine’s lips. “And am I very wild?”

“The most wild creature I’ve ever met.”

“I suppose that makes you…my little fawn.”

“A fawn? I’m not a baby,” Kurt complains.

“You’re my baby, my little fawn,” Blaine teases, nuzzling Kurt’s neck and collarbone, sending shivers and tickles along his skin.

“And you’re awful and I should have just found someone else to lay with.” Kurt says in an indignant rush, He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, especially when he sees the way Blaine’s mouth parts, smile disappearing.

“Has there been?” Blaine asks, sounding like he can barely make the words.

“Of course not,” Kurt scoffs, trying to make light of it. “I don’t know why I said that.” But he does, in a way, because he has worried that Blaine would have.

“You could have.”

“I didn’t want to,” Kurt says firmly. His voice softens a moment later, just a tremor of upset. “I was devastated when you left, though.”

Blaine looks like his heart is breaking just a little, and his voice is equally soft, strained. “I didn’t want to.”

Kurt takes a breath. “Did you? Um.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “I mean, was there anyone for you?” His heart is pounding, knowing there could have been. Blaine may care for him, but it’s not like either of them had committed to each other, and Kurt well knows how prone young men in the kingdom are to infidelity. He’d heard all the gossip.

“No. There’s only you, Kurt.” Blaine’s hand comes to rest on his jaw.

Kurt wants to dance, he’s so relieved. He wants to kiss Blaine silly, and is about to, when Blaine continues.

“That’s why I grew the beard.”

�Kurt shakes his head, not understanding what a beard has to do with anything. “Huh?”

“This climate is too hot for beards,” Blaine says. “It sends a message.� It says I’m waiting to be yours, no one else can have me.”

Kurt’s eyebrows raise and his face warms. “How long would you wait?”

Blaine presses his mouth to Kurt’s in a chaste kiss, face so close Kurt can barely make it out, and says in a tender voice, “Until you were mine. Or I didn’t love you anymore.”

Kurt can’t speak, can’t think beyond Blaine’s statement to form the words. Blaine steals the moment from him with another kiss. Blaine loves me. Even after months apart, after barely being able to communicate, after not truly knowing how Kurt felt…

“Can we shave it,” Kurt whispers, “so everyone will know I’m yours?”

Blaine smiles and nods, running his fingers along Kurt’s own smooth cheeks. “Right now?”

“Please?” Kurt asks, touching Blaine’s beard on the opposite side Blaine is touching him.

----

They open the door and windows to let in as much light as possible, setting up supplies on a small table. Blaine sits, shirtless, and Kurt has to try very hard not to let himself get distracted. He offers to cut Blaine’s hair first, saying if he doesn’t a bird may land in it and make himself a nest. Blaine agrees, and Kurt runs his fingers through the messy tufts, tutting quietly at how unruly it’s gotten. He hums as he works, chastising Blaine every time Blaine tries to move his head, says he doesn’t want to end up cutting off an ear. When he’s finished, he cards his fingers through the remaining, shorter curls, rubbing a gentle massage against Blaine’s scalp until he sees goosebumps along the back of Blaine’s neck.

“How does it look?” he asks, holding up the piece of mirror in front of them, leaning against Blaine’s back.

Blaine smiles, but he’s mostly looking at Kurt’s reflection. “Beautiful,” he says quietly. Kurt blushes, impulsively leaning in to nuzzle the spot behind Blaine’s ear.

Blaine asks Kurt to keep the mirror in place so he can trim and shave his beard, but when he reaches for the scissors, Kurt pipes up. “Wait.”

“Kurt?” Blaine asks, a curious lift of his eyebrows.

“May I?” Kurt asks, hesitant and shy. If the beard symbolizes that Blaine is waiting to be Kurt’s, Kurt wants to be the one to remove it.

“You want to shave my beard?”

“If you trust me to,” Kurt says, beginning to second guess.

“No, I trust you,” Blaine is quick to say, fixing Kurt with an easy smile. He takes the mirror from Kurt’s hands, setting it on the floor. “Please.”

Kurt moves from behind Blaine and bites his lip, steps closer, their knees bumping. Blaine is gazing at him, a certain weight to his look, but Kurt pays it no mind, instead focusing on cutting away at all the excess hair that would be too difficult to simply shave.

“I missed you so much,” Kurt murmurs. “I didn’t know-- I hadn’t realized how important you had become to me. I was so lonely. Before I came here, but especially when you were gone.” Voice thick with emotion, stomach twisting slightly with the show of vulnerability, Kurt carefully sets down the scissors. Blaine says nothing, so Kurt applies water and soap, lathering Blaine’s beard until the lower half of his face is covered with white, fluffy foam. He dries his hand, takes the razor, and tips Blaine’s chin up, straddling Blaine’s lap so he has an easier time of it. He can feel Blaine’s eyes on him, but he tries to focus on the task at hand, wanting to do a good job.

Blaine stills Kurt’s hand before he can begin, holding him by the wrist. He takes the knife from Kurt and sets it gently on the little table next to them. “I want you to be my mate,” he says, just like that, out of nowhere.

Kurt blushes, startled. “Aren’t I?” he asks, hushed.

Blaine’s mouth twists into a frown and he looks down, brows set in consternation. “I mean,” he begins to say, as though struggling to find the words. “Forever. For good.”

“Like marriage?” Kurt asks with a sudden intake of breath. But the word ‘marriage’ isn’t Maelin and Kurt doesn’t know a translation for it. He didn’t even know Blaine’s people did marry. Before Blaine can even ask, Kurt adds, “You want us to promise our lives to each other?”

Blaine begins to nod and smile, opening his mouth to reply, but Kurt cuts him off, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Yes! Yes I will!” He says in an excited rush.

Shock crosses Blaine’s expression for a split second before his whole face lights up. “Really? Yes?”

“Yes!” Kurt repeats, beaming. He’d always expected to be betrothed to a woman of Sue’s choosing, but here he is free to not only be with a man, but a man he wants. A man he loves. Blaine kisses him out of his thoughts, and Kurt laughs suddenly, pulling away. “No, gods—you’ll get me all soapy—”

Blaine just grins and frames Kurt’s face in his hands, capturing his mouth again in a soapy kiss. Kurt hums appreciatively. Before it has a chance to become too heated, he pulls back. The practical side of him wants to finish shaving Blaine so they can be done with it. “Wait until I’m finished here, hm?” he murmurs, wiping at his face.

“You really want to be mine?” Blaine asks in a soft voice, sounding slightly uncertain and a lot awed.

“Yes, Blaine, I really do,” Kurt replies with a shy smile. This seems to assure Blaine for the moment, but he pipes back up as Kurt applies more foam to make up for the loss.

“I love you, Kurt,” he says, sounding breathless and aching.

Kurt swears he can feel his heart beating harder. “I love you, too,” he whispers, gazing down at that sweet, beautiful face he has missed so much. The foam, though, is ruining the moment a little, and a small laugh escapes. “You need to stop saying things like this when I’m trying to shave you.”

Blaine’s smile widens, and he leans in to try, but this time Kurt is quicker and stops him. It takes a lot of self-control. “Ah-ah. Let’s get this done, and then I’ll kiss you so much you’ll wish we hadn’t started.”

“I doubt that,” Blaine says, and he looks so earnest, as though Kurt was being serious, that Kurt has to laugh again.

“We shall see,” Kurt says, inspecting the foam on Blaine’s face to make sure he’s ready.

“Has anyone explained the mating ritual to you?” Blaine asks.

“Well, I know what a marriage ceremony entails. But I will not be in a dress, no matter what anyone thinks,” Kurt says, picking the razor back up.

“Tell me about your ceremony.”

“Alright, but you need to hush for a moment,” Kurt says, holding Blaine’s face with one hand. He tilts Blaine’s face and drags the razor along his jaw, scraping off foam and hair and leaving a clean stripe of skin behind. Kurt concentrates, focuses on a clean, close shave. When he speaks back up it’s almost an afterthought. “A man and woman exchange vows and rings in a church, and a priest officiates it before all the gods.”

“And that’s all?”

“Sometimes there’s a party afterwards.”

“Ours is much different—”

“Shh,” Kurt chides, dragging the blade along Blaine’s cheek, nearing the delicate curve of his chin, so careful not to cut or nick. The razor makes a soft scraping sound. Kurt’s movements are precise, foam and hair swept along a towel on each pass. Soon Blaine’s face is all but bare, and it’s only then that Kurt ventures a glance at Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine is gazing at him intently, like an animal poised to jump. Kurt lets the rest of the world bleed back in and can feel Blaine hard beneath him, pressed up against the underside of Kurt’s thigh. Kurt licks his lower lip. “Your neck, now,” he says, his voice sounding thick, and tips Blaine’s head back. He ignores the touch of Blaine’s fingertips suddenly on his hips, and shaves under Blaine’s jawline, over the bob in his throat, praying desperately for his hands to hold steady just a few moments longer. Once Blaine’s throat is smooth, Kurt wipes it with the towel and can’t help but lean in to press his lips to it in a kiss.

�“We don’t have any priests,” Blaine says, and it takes Kurt a moment to realize what he’s referring to. When he does, warmth swells in Kurt’s chest and he can’t help himself, pressing his hips forward curiously, pinning Blaine’s hardness underneath him. Blaine’s hands find the swell of his ass and squeeze. “I’ll claim you as my own in front of the tribe and we’ll show them proof of our love.”

“How do we prove it?” Kurt asks, experimentally rocking his hips because oh, that feels good.

“Remember the night before I left? Like I proved it to you then,” Blaine says, and his hand comes between them boldly to cup Kurt’s cock.

“By—?” Kurt blushes, pausing in his movement with a sharp, stuttered sound. “We’re going to do that in front of everyone?”

“That’s the ritual,” Blaine says. His voice is husky, his hand rubbing rhythmically up and down.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispers, arms braced on Blaine’s shoulders, fingers grasping helplessly at his hair. Blaine’s hand feels so good that his body threatens to slump forward, boneless, completely at Blaine’s mercy. He can’t think about rituals right now, not with the way Blaine is touching him. He leans in, angles to kiss him instead, eyes closed halfway. “Please…”

“You aren’t afraid now?” Blaine whispers against his lips.

“I’ve been pleasuring myself nearly every day since you’ve been gone,” Kurt admits.

Blaine pulls back and looks up at him with a stunned expression. Kurt smiles slowly under his gaze, wanting to preen.

“With your hand?” Blaine whispers, and squeezes. Kurt whimpers softly and curls closer to Blaine, arching his hips toward Blaine’s hand, moving against it.

“Yes,” he says in this little embarrassing whine. “Wasn’t ever as good as when you did it, though. I want you to again, Blaine, please…”

Blaine’s eyes are dark and focused on Kurt’s. He rubs Kurt through his pants, gives a gentle squeeze, nuzzles his neck, kisses it. “I will,” Blaine says, sucking suddenly behind Kurt’s ear, down along his neck, lifting Kurt and himself with his hands bracketing Kurt’s hips. Kurt instinctively wraps his legs around Blaine’s waist, holds on tight as Blaine carries him to the bed. Blaine lays him down, but is far from gentle, practically tearing at his pants to get them open and off.

Kurt tries to touch Blaine, but Blaine takes his wrists and pins them above his head. The pressure of his hands tightens as he whispers a harsh, “Keep them there, just like that,” and then disappear. Blaine’s hands skate along Kurt’s sides and Kurt keeps his arms up as instructed, feeling especially vulnerable, stretched out, belly-up, with Blaine’s mouth and hands mapping a path down his body.

Kurt can only watch, taking in the sight of Blaine’s lips dragging along his skin, kissing all that he can, tongue peeking out to taste, hands cradling his hips. He feels worshipped, and wonders if that’s what it is to be mated, to worship each other in words and touch and thought.

Blaine avoids Kurt’s cock as his mouth nips and nuzzles the skin of his hipbone and lower, down to his thigh. Something - the warm puffs of breath, the closeness - makes Kurt squirm and beg in quiet pleas.

Blaine’s eyes meet his and finally, with a small cry of relief, Kurt feels Blaine’s hand on his swollen cock. Kurt’s knees draw up, legs wide around Blaine’s body, toes digging into the blankets. He bites his lip as Blaine’s hand begins to move, drawing slow strokes up and down the length of him. Kurt did this sometimes, when it was dark and he was alone, to get himself ready – but he’s ready now and he needs more.

“Don’t tease,” Kurt says, hushed, raising his hips to push himself into the circle of Blaine’s hand. Kurt feels Blaine’s other hand on his balls and squirms because it’s so good, but it’s like Blaine is just playing with him.

“Is that what I’m doing?” Blaine asks, gently massaging, his hands everywhere all at once.

“Please, Blaine,” Kurt begs, rubbing his calf along the outside of Blaine’s thigh.

Blaine hums softly and lowers his face. Before Kurt can even understand what’s happening, Blaine’s mouth encloses over the head of his cock. Kurt gasps, sudden wet heat sending sparks along his skin and a trembling tremor along each nerve inside his body. Blaine’s mouth doesn’t stop until he’s swallowed almost all of Kurt’s cock, and Kurt can only gape, fingers curling into the pillows, legs wanting to kick.

“Blaine,” he lets out on a long exhale, and cries out as Blaine begins to suck. It feels wholly unlike Blaine’s hand, more intense, so hot and perfect and unlike anything Kurt could ever imagine. Blaine crawls up even further toward Kurt’s body and begins to pull off.

“Nopleasestay,” Kurt says in a rush, grabbing at Blaine’s hair to keep his face there.

Blaine moans in response, sliding back down, and as he starts to pull up against the tightening of Kurt’s fingers, Kurt gets it. Blaine’s mouth is like his hand, and suddenly Kurt is trying to direct Blaine’s head up and down faster, letting out little whimpers. Blaine grunts and moves a hand to try and hold Kurt’s hips still, but it’s like Kurt is possessed and he can’t. He needs more, more. Kurt tries thrusting into Blaine’s mouth, but it makes Blaine falter, saliva escaping his mouth, the suction disappearing. Blaine’s hands hold Kurt’s hips down, fingers almost bruisingly hard, and he bobs his head faster, groaning, staring up at Kurt.

Kurt writhes under Blaine’s hold, hips begging to arch, hands in tight fists in Blaine’s hair. He keeps making these sounds that he can’t hold in, he can’t hold back, and comes down Blaine’s throat with a sharp cry. Blaine sucks and swallows and Kurt, panting, has to push Blaine’s head away when it becomes too much. He doesn’t see if Blaine finishes himself off; it’s like he’s in a daze until Blaine is right there, lips swollen and red. Blaine kisses him soundly, holding his face in his hands.

Kurt weakly lifts his arms, looping them around Blaine’s neck, kissing back at a slow, lazy pace. Blaine’s mouth and tongue taste unusual, and Kurt realizes it’s his come he’s tasting. He moans softly and suckles gently at Blaine’s tongue. If he could, he’d be hard again.

When they’re both breathless once more, Blaine breaks away, laying down next to Kurt and gathering him in his arms to lie against his chest.

“I can’t believe you put that in your mouth,” Kurt says, still dazed and happy.

Blaine smiles in amusement, petting Kurt’s hair. “It tasted good. I wanted to.”

�“Oh.” He blushes, beginning to doze, when he realizes with a start that Blaine still has his pants on. “Oh. What about you?” Kurt asks, craning his head to look at Blaine.

“Shh, I’m fine,” Blaine says.

“Are you sure?”

“Sleep, little fawn,” Blaine says with a soft smile.

Kurt returns the smile and doesn’t argue, turning his face back to rest against Blaine’s chest, relaxing. It’s quiet, Kurt’s eyelids growing steadily heavier, both of their breathing evening out. “I love you,” Kurt whispers. He feels Blaine kiss his face and his grip tighten just a little, and then sleep takes him.

----

Kurt wakes up to the feeling of something rubbing against his lips and Blaine quietly murmuring his name.

“Wake up,” he hears, and grumbles softly in reply, not wanting to wake up. He hasn’t slept well since Blaine has been gone, and his orgasm seems to have put him under a spell. “Kurt?”

Kurt grudgingly opens his eyes when he feels something nudge his mouth again. The world swims into focus, mostly, and it’s Blaine’s cock. Blaine is hovering over him, wet and gleaming, tanned skin glowing and clean, cock in hand. He’s dragging the tip of it along Kurt’s lips, spreading pre-come. Kurt’s mouth parts involuntarily to taste.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathes out, nudging more insistently. “Open up, Kurt. Let me.”

Kurt makes a quiet sound in acquiescence, too sleepy to feel nervous or uncomfortable at the idea of Blaine putting that in his mouth. He opens wide and wider as Blaine slides in, eyes blinking closed. Blaine is telling him to cover his teeth with his lips, and he obeys, hands coming up to hug the back of Blaine’s thighs. His eyes open a crack and he groans softly at the weight and feeling of his mouth being filled. Blaine is larger than him, thicker, and Kurt’s jaw is strained, but not unpleasantly so. He keeps his tongue flat, cradling the underside of Blaine’s cock. It tastes like clean skin tinged with the slight tang of pre-come, and Kurt gives a few weak sucks. He’s so tired, but he wants to be good for Blaine.

Blaine moans and murmurs encouragement as he slowly slides his cock in and out. His hands fall into Kurt’s hair and pull, making Kurt’s eyes water. Kurt whines, shudders lightly. It seems to set Blaine off, his hands tip Kurt’s head back and his cock slides with purpose, in deep, almost out, over and over. It’s a steady rhythm, but even in his groggy state Kurt can sense an undercurrent of Blaine so close to losing control. Kurt’s hands clench and unclench at the backs of Blaine’s thighs, breathing hard through his nose, trying not to gag. He can feel his own dick aching, but it’s like a dull afterthought, so much of his senses overtaken by Blaine’s cock in his mouth and its stuttering movements.

Blaine’s thrusts increase, become more erratic. Kurt makes a muffled sound around his cock, reaches his hands up to Blaine’s hips as though to guide them, but Blaine pulls away, slides out.

“Keep your mouth open,” Blaine says, voice strained. Kurt, panting, opens his eyes just in time to see Blaine come. It hits his tongue, some of it misses and hits his lips, his cheek. He watches in a daze, cock giving another twinge of arousal.

Blaine finishes and leans in, kissing him messily. Kurt, still half-asleep, kisses back, eyes closing once more.

“Was I good?”

“You were so good,” Kurt hears Blaine whisper before he falls back asleep.

----

Kurt dreams he’s in a bath. The water inside is warm and slowly heating up. There are bubbles.� It’s lovely.

Kurt wakes to Blaine pumping his cock, and he whimpers, mouth parting around a moan. “Blaine, too much” he whines in a tiny voice, forcing his eyes open.

“Kurt,” Blaine says reverently, face so close, eyes so awake and intent. “Did you think about me when you touched yourself? When I was gone, is it this you would think of?”

“Yes,” Kurt moans, tipping toward him, shaky hands grasping to hold onto something.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, stroking his cock lightly, cupping his balls, hands sliding up his legs, just touching.

“Mm,” is all Kurt can muster, and curls in toward Blaine, sleep dragging him back under.

----

When Kurt wakes again, he’s on his stomach, hips raised by pillows underneath him. His cheeks are spread and there’s warm, wet lapping against his hole. It’s so unexpected he doesn’t even know how to process it, and at first all he can do is feel, the pleasure of whatever’s happening making him shudder.

“Please,” he whispers without thinking, pressing back. It’s Blaine’s face. Blaine’s hands are holding him apart and it’s his tongue and Kurt is still groggy enough that he doesn’t care, just wants.

“Yeah,” he says as Blaine’s tongue circles the rim, Kurt’s face mashed into the bed mattress. “Yeah.”

Blaine moans and starts to suck at his skin and Kurt cries out, eyes squeezed closed. Blaine sucks harder, starts to move his tongue, starts to press against the opening with it until he’s inside, wet tongue and hot breath in and out, and Kurt humps slowly into the pillow, moaning without end. Wave after wave of pleasure and he’s hard, needing to come again. Blaine plays and teases and eases up a little, and Kurt’s saliva dampens the blanket under his cheek.

“Mm, Blaine,” Kurt exhales on a soft moan, melting into the mattress as Blaine’s tongue slows, circles his hole lazily.

Kurt dozes, floating in between sleep and muddled consciousness.

His eyes flash open when he feels something firm reaching inside him. He gasps, tenses, tries to pull himself awake.

“Blaine?” he whimpers, confused by what’s happening.

“Shh, little fawn, relax,” Blaine answers, his voice soft and slightly hoarse.

Kurt is too preoccupied by the strange feeling of whatever Blaine is doing to tell him not to call him that. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you ready with fingers and oil.” Blaine moves, draping his body almost entirely over Kurt’s back, kissing at his shoulders and neck. “Please, I want to be inside you. Say yes, Kurt.”

“I—I don’t understand…”

Blaine’s finger circles his rim and he cries out softly.

“I want to join with you,” Blaine says, sucking at the skin beneath his ear, finger circling faster and reaching back in. It feels good in certain moments, but strange, and maybe not entirely pleasant. “I want to fill you up with my cock and my come. Want to fuck you.”

“I…”

Blaine’s finger pulls out only to return a moment later, even slicker and warmer than before. The pressure increases and Kurt realizes he must be using two fingers now, stretching and reaching deep inside. Kurt is about to protest, to tell Blaine no, when he feels a sudden, soft jolt of pleasure.

“Blaine,” he moans, pressing his hips up, seeking out that feeling. “Yes.” Blaine grunts, mouthing at his neck, and begins to stroke with his fingers, and he must have added more with how the pressure increases. They find that place and massage it over and over, thrusting steadily, making Kurt grind his hips, making him beg in nonsense sounds. Kurt is panting shallowly by the time Blaine stops, pulling out his fingers and pulling Kurt back against him by his waist. He clamps a hand around the base of Kurt’s cock, holding Kurt’s boneless body flush with his.

“Don’t come yet,” he says against Kurt’s ear.

Kurt moans piteously and tries to regain his breath when he feels something blunt and much larger pushed up against his entrance. He hisses and tries to move away when it starts to press in, but he’s stopped by a firm hand around his hip.

“Shh,” Blaine whispers, returning Kurt to his previous face down, sprawled position. Blaine drags his hips up and presses in more insistently. Blaine’s cock is slick and warm but too big, too much pressure, and Kurt bites down on the blanket underneath his face. He groans, wants to buck and get Blaine off him, but at the same time he wants more. It hurts but it’s Blaine, and there’s something primal and satisfying at being filled like this. At having Blaine inside him. It makes his stomach swoop and his skin flush.

Blaine pushes and pushes until Kurt is letting out these tiny, tearless sobs, hands white-knuckled and clenching the blankets. Blaine groans in pleasure, face pressed to Kurt’s back. Kurt wonders if this is it, if this is how it is between men since men don’t have a place for birthing, bodies fitting together like this, skin against skin, ragged breath and nerves on fire.

“Blaine,” Kurt pleads, for what, he doesn’t know.

And then Blaine moves. It’s a slow drag out, but he doesn’t leave completely, slowing pushing back in, filling Kurt up. It continues like this, slow and careful, and soon the pain and worry ebbs and Kurt finds himself shifting, almost impatient, feeling on the verge of something and wanting it. “Feels so good, Blaine,” he says, sounding drunkenly. “Why…why does it feel so good?”

Blaine doesn’t answer but to thrust back in, quicker this time. Kurt moans, long and low, and Blaine does it again and again. Kurt’s head is bowed, forehead pressed to the bed and thighs trembling.

“Like this?” Blaine breathes out, hips pumping.

“Blaine, gods, please,” Kurt whines, and it’s like something snaps. Blaine picks up speed, cursing and moaning. His hands clamp around Kurt’s hips, holding Kurt steady as he fucks into him, each thrust harder than the last. Kurt can hardly breathe, caught between pleasure and pain, helpless. But Blaine isn’t holding back, he’s pounding into Kurt and Kurt can’t even form the words to ask him to slow down. Doesn’t even know if he wants Blaine to. Something sparks inside and makes Kurt gasp, makes him moan, makes him push back against Blaine to get him to do that again.

Blaine squeezes his asscheeks, grinds into him, and Kurt cries out, trying to rise up on his forearms and failing. “Blaine, please…need you to touch me…”

Panting Kurt’s name, Blaine reaches around his body and grasps his cock. He gives two pulls and it’s all Kurt can take. Kurt comes, wrenching out a long, whimpering moan, followed by Blaine’s name.

Blaine growls and slides his hand through the come, hugging Kurt’s body to his, bringing them both vertical. Blaine fucks into him with enough strength that Kurt bounces in his lap. Kurt reaches behind him to hold on, but it isn’t long before Blaine comes hot inside him. Kurt keens and turns his face, biting at Blaine’s shoulder to muffle the sound.

Blaine holds him for a long while, arms around Kurt’s middle, before he finally lays them down, breathing heavily, and kisses Kurt’s face. Kurt is sore and exhausted and his eyes are already threatening to close, but he tips his face toward Blaine’s mouth and holds tight to him. Blaine wipes up some of the mess and stretches his body out alongside Kurt’s, still laying gentle kisses across his skin. He smiles at Kurt, so tender and sweet, it’s almost overwhelming. Kurt loves Blaine so much. So much.

“You have exhausted me, Wildling,” Kurt says, instead of trying to put words to what he’s really feeling. He stretches out, returning the smile. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to leave this bed.”

Blaine traces nonsense patterns on Kurt’s skin, making Kurt shiver.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to stay with you,” he says, grinning.

“A nightmare,” Kurt says, getting a laugh out of Blaine. They’re quiet after that, gazing at each other. Eventually Kurt’s eyelids become too heavy to hold open, and sleep takes him once more.

----

Kurt and Blaine sleep until there’s only an hour or two of daylight left. Kurt feels sated and content, if a little sore, but he ignores it. They walk together to the river to bathe and swim until Kurt complains about the temperature of the water. Blaine wraps him in a blanket and kisses him until his lips go numb. Kurt feels like he could float, become a bird and fly from how happy he is.

They return to their house with some food, something to tide them over until the bonfire later that night. They eat in bed, lounging, taking their time. Kurt ends up sitting with his back to Blaine’s chest, breaking off small pieces of his food and feeding them to Blaine while he regales him with what he missed in the months he was gone. None of it is particularly interesting, but there are some amusing stories, especially the ones involving Blaine’s older brother, Cooper, who Kurt spent some time with and would consider a good friend.

Blaine tells Kurt about how they traveled around mountains, the foliage becoming sparse and the trees becoming triangular and prickly. He says it hadn’t gotten cold, but it was a different sort of heat, and a different sort of area than they had ever been to because they hadn’t thought there would be anything that way due to the steep mountains. They’d found a city anyway, and he says it was nice, but more than anything he wants to try climbing one of those mountains sometime. Kurt isn’t so sure about something like that, but indulges Blaine, especially as Blaine feeds him berries. He promises to take Kurt next time if he has to go, and it’s an even greater comfort. He says he missed Kurt every day.

But it’s almost dusk, and Kurt knows they will have to leave for the bonfire, and now that he knows what’s expected of him to officially be Blaine’s mate, his stomach begins to turn, queasy twists of worry. As if Blaine can sense it, Kurt feels Blaine’s hand slide down past his abdomen, idly rubbing along his inner thighs, knuckles brushing against his cock. Kurt’s stomach gives a different sort of twist.

“Blaine,” Kurt asks, head resting in the crook of Blaine’s neck, “Why did you even like me at first?”

“Hm?”

“When you brought me here. You kissed me before you even knew who I was.”

“Oh.” Kurt can hear the smile in Blaine’s voice, feels Blaine’s mouth press momentarily against his temple in a kiss. “I thought you were pretty.”

Kurt huffs in exasperation. “That’s it? Do you often go around kissing pretty boys?”

Blaine does laugh now, his hand curling around Kurt’s hip. “Maybe. But you were the prettiest I had ever seen. I wanted to be very clear that I was interested in you.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I think we need to work on your people skills.”

“Mm,” Blaine nuzzles behind Kurt’s ear. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe you gave me a concussion when you knocked me out that I’m still suffering from.”

“Oh?” Blaine’s hand slides from Kurt’s thigh to his crotch. He rubs teasingly at the undeniable bulge, making Kurt’s thighs clamp tight from instinct. “Are you suffering?”

“Blaine,” Kurt whines, squirming against his chest. “Too much.” Blaine’s touch is so light it’s maddening, but after an afternoon of being hard, and coming twice, there is also an edge of sensitivity.

“Mm. You’re right, we should save it for the ceremony,” Blaine says, though his hand seems to have no intention of stopping.

Kurt’s cheeks color and he frowns, gasping sharply when Blaine gives a gentle squeeze, wanting more despite himself.� “Blaine…I don’t think I can do that in front of everyone.”

“Why not?” Blaine asks, hand slipping under the waistband of Kurt’s pants.

Kurt lets out a helpless moan, trying to think around what Blaine’s doing with his hand. “But isn’t it…it’s private, Blaine. I’ve never been naked in front of anyone but nursemaids and you. Isn’t it embarrassing?”

Blaine lifts Kurt, urges him up until his feet are on the ground. He pulls at the tie on Kurt’s pants and tugs them down, releasing Kurt’s hard and leaking cock, eliciting another tiny moan from him. “We’re all familiar with nudity,” Blaine says, tugging Kurt onto his lap, with Kurt’s back to him once more. His hand finds Kurt’s cock immediately, stroking. There is no teasing to his caresses, either, and Kurt’s mouth falls open. He squirms in Blaine’s lap, presses back against him, whimpers when Blaine’s other hand travels up his chest to play with his nipples. Kurt’s head tips back, face turned toward Blaine’s neck.

“We’ve all seen ourselves naked,” Blaine whispers hotly in his ear, fingers gathering his precome to help with the friction. “The children run around naked—”

“But they’re —ah—�children,” Kurt says, sucking in a breath when Blaine pinches at his nipple, bites at his earlobe.

“Don’t you want everyone to see how beautiful you are?” Blaine murmurs, trailing his mouth lower, lips and teeth teasing at Kurt’s neck.

“Well—” He can’t think, his own words mean nothing.

“Don’t you want to show them how good you make me feel?� They’ll see me reduced to a moaning, animal mess, and all because of you,” Blaine continues, pumping at Kurt’s cock with his hand. “Only you have such power over me and no other.”

“Please,” Kurt whispers.

“Everyone will know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Kurt cries out, hands locking around Blaine’s wrists, and comes with Blaine’s promise still hanging in the air.

You’re mine, and I’m yours.

----

Kurt can hear music and laughter before they even step into the clearing. The entire tribe has gathered in one place, young and old, and Kurt realizes just how large the community actually is. In the middle of it all is a bonfire, the flames of it lick high into the night sky and illuminate everyone with a flickering orange glow.

Kurt grasps Blaine’s hand tighter now that there are people around. Blaine smiles at him reassuringly, and his brightly colored face is enough to distract Kurt from nervousness. Body paint, Blaine had called it, was tradition for celebrations. Especially for them, since they were to be mated. They had covered each other in bright lines and swirls on each other’s face and chest and arms. Kurt had warned Blaine that having his hands all over Kurt’s naked body was going to make the mating ceremony happen ahead of schedule. Blaine had only laughed and tried to color Kurt’s armpit hair, resulting in a few messy splotches of blue and gold on Blaine’s ass in retaliation.

They’re dressed in nothing more than slips of cloth much like skirts, also for the mating ceremony, Blaine had said. Kurt sees when people start to realize and he blushes, but keeps his chin held high. No one, aside from Sebastian, has been unkind to Kurt. Not for his homosexuality or that their leader has taken such a liking to him, so he knows he probably has nothing to worry about. Still, being so open and bold about it among others is new, and he can’t help but feel anxious.

Especially when Blaine stands on top of a large rock, bringing Kurt with him.

The crowd goes quiet as Blaine gives a speech about the trip, thanking the people who went with him and his brother for watching over the tribe in Blaine’s absence. Kurt tries to pay attention, but everyone is looking at them and it feels awkward to just be lurking next to Blaine when he had nothing to do with the trading journey or upkeep while Blaine was away--

“…And now you’ll have a new co-leader, Kurt Hummel…”

Kurt’s head snaps toward Blaine. “Wait, what?” he asks quietly. Blaine hadn’t told him that.

“…Who has agreed to be my mate.” Blaine grins at Kurt and gives him a look like, go on, say something.

Kurt forces his eyeballs down from saucers to what he hopes is something normal looking, plasters a smile onto his face and waves, curling his fingers. “Hi.”

They applaud, like Kurt is actually a valid choice for co-leader and he isn’t just some spoiled sixteen year old ex-royal who only recently learned how to start a fire. Blaine is just smiling dopily, like he isn’t a leader, like he doesn’t kill deer and wrestle boars and save people from sociopathic meerkat-faced tribe members. But maybe that’s why. Blaine looks happy. Truly, unabashedly happy. Maybe that’s why they care. And the fact that Kurt is even some small part of the reason Blaine is so happy is enough to make it hard to breathe.

Blaine ends the speech and leads Kurt, still in a daze, into the middle of the renewed celebration, receiving pats on the back and well wishes from nearly everyone they pass. Kurt is handed a drink and takes a sip unquestioningly. It’s sweet and warms his insides as it goes down. Blaine starts talking to Mike when Kurt spots Quinn, belly bared and colored in blue and purple swirls.

“So, he didn’t give you up for the first pretty thing he met in a faraway city after all,” she says with a sly smile.

Kurt can feel his cheeks warm and he rolls his eyes. “Can you really blame me for worrying?” he asks, throwing a glance at his extremely handsome, charming, vine-swinging, almost-mate.

“You’re selling yourself short.”

Kurt dismisses her comment with a wave of his hand and a small head shake, worried about other things at the moment. “So, here’s something you didn’t tell me-- how exactly am I supposed to co-lead a tribe I’ve been a part of for four months? No, forget that for now—you are not allowed to come to this sex show, and, you know what, I think that will be my first decree as co-leader. No ritual public sex. Privacy, in some cases, in many cases, is a good thing—”

Quinn cuts him off with a touch on his wrist. “You’re nervous. Drink more of that,” she says, giving his cup a nudge.

Kurt groans and takes a long drink, shivering slightly from the way it warms his stomach and his face.

“Anyway, like I’m going to miss your mating ceremony. Every time you make a weird noise I’m going to remember it to mock you with later for every time you were a snot to me during lessons,” Quinn says with a bright smile.

“You’re evil. I wouldn’t be surprised if that thing came out with two heads,” he says, motioning to her stomach.

“Hey now—”

“I hate to cut in, but I was wondering if Kurt would dance with me,” Blaine says, appearing at Kurt’s side.

“I would be delighted,” Kurt says primly, downing the rest of his drink and giving Quinn a wave goodbye.

The night continues with dancing and drinks and stories. Maybe it’s Blaine, or maybe it’s the drink, or maybe it’s the open night air and the freedom and friendship and community that Kurt has never experienced before he came here. Maybe it’s everything. But whatever magic the evening holds, it makes Kurt loose-limbed and happy. He feels warm all over, like a living star in his own galaxy.

It gets to the point where Kurt forgets about the mating ceremony, and then Blaine is kissing him. It starts soft and languorous in the middle of a dance, Kurt’s mostly empty cup falling from his hand so he can hold onto Blaine instead. The kiss grows heated and Kurt’s knees feel wobbly, weak, stomach turning and skin warm. Everything is warm, his body feels like a slow-burning fire, Blaine’s mouth and fingers making Kurt quiver, hungry for more. Blaine’s tongue licks into Kurt’s mouth, teasing at his, and Kurt sucks at it, tries to draw it deeper into his mouth. They kiss and time slows down, the world disappears; it’s just Blaine and heat consuming everything. �

Kurt finds himself flat on his back on the grass, Blaine on top of him. He isn’t sure when it happened, but the kisses are melting into something messy and hurried. Blaine’s mouth drags over Kurt’s chin, to his neck, turning kisses into licks into suction. Kurt moans low, legs shifting, thighs opening without thought, head tilting back to bare his neck. Blaine’s moan sounds like a growl as he sucks hard at the sensitive skin, teeth pressing, tongue swirling, sending lightning sparks straight to Kurt’s cock. Blaine moves Kurt’s head by his hair to arc his neck further and Kurt cries out softly, pulling against Blaine’s grip to feel the shock of pain wrapped in pleasure. He’s panting for it, hips moving restlessly against Blaine’s body until Blaine snaps and ruts against him, mouth dragging to a new spot to suck and bite and mark for everyone to see.

Everyone.

Kurt’s eyes fly open and he finds people around them, still drinking, some talking to one another, but they’re watching. He feels a strange spike of arousal and another of embarrassment and tries to hide underneath Blaine’s body.

“They’re watching us,” Kurt whispers, shimmying until his face is buried in the crook of Blaine’s neck.

“That’s the point. Remember, Kurt? They want to see me love you,” Blaine says against his ear, voice lowered only for Kurt, hot breath making him shiver. “They want to see you come.”

Blaine’s hand smooths up his thigh, under his wrap, until Kurt feels warm fingers caressing his balls. He whines low in his throat, squirms, heart beating heavy under everyone’s collective gaze, forgetting them all the same when Blaine’s hand wraps possessively around his cock.

“Will you come for me?” Blaine asks in a whisper, fingers tracing the underside of Kurt’s cock, around the head where he’s especially sensitive.

“Please, yes,” Kurt whimpers piteously.

And then it’s just them. Kurt doesn’t forget the people gathered around them, but they cease to matter. All he sees is Blaine, all he hears is Blaine, all he feels, all around him, is Blaine. They don’t dwell on foreplay, both of them too desperate for each other to be patient. Blaine doesn’t even take off Kurt’s wrap, simply rucks it up while stretching him, drawing moan after pleading moan from Kurt. He can’t stay quiet, the sounds torn from his body with each press and twist of Blaine’s fingers. Kurt is still sore and oversensitive from earlier, but he wants it all the same.

When Blaine enters Kurt, the desperation eases some. Blaine frames Kurt’s shoulders and head between his arms, bracing himself on his elbows. He hovers over Kurt, making himself like a cocoon around him as his hips begin to rock. It’s like Blaine is shielding him, protecting him, even though they’re perfectly on display for all to see. Kurt reaches up to kiss Blaine, their mouths meeting soft and messy and open, tongues touching, punctured by low moans. Kurt brings his knees up further, locks his legs around Blaine, ankles hooked. They move together in a perfect rhythm, and when it gets toward too, too fast, when it’s so deliciously hard that they can’t kiss for fear of knocking teeth out, Kurt pulls his mouth back with a gasp, head back, neck bared, hips raised and pleading, please just a little more.

Blaine gives it to him, fills Kurt and makes him come, kissing his face, whispering, I love you I love you I love you so much.

The short hairs lining Blaine’s forehead are wet and curled and plastered against his skin, the hair at the top of his head a fluffy messy. The paint hasn’t fared very well, the sweat from their bodies and the slide of skin against skin has smeared it, mixing colors and patterns into a technicolor blur. Kurt can see his fingerprints on Blaine’s cheeks and shoulders, and Blaine’s lips are stained from kissing his face.

Honestly, he has never looked so beautiful.

“I promise, you won’t ever be lonely again,” Blaine whispers. Kurt is so overwhelmed by Blaine’s words, he doesn’t notice Blaine slipping a simple leather bracelet around his wrist until it’s on him. Blaine had put one on before they left, but Kurt had barely paid attention to it, assuming it was a decoration for the party, like the paint. It’s familiar, though, and he realizes he’s seen others wearing similar adornments. Quinn, for one.

“What’s this?” Kurt murmurs.

Blaine shows Kurt his own matching piece. “Symbols. To show I’m yours.”

Oh.

“Mine,” Kurt says with a sated smile, circling his fingers around Blaine’s wrist, gazing into his eyes.

Blaine smiles softly. “Yours,” he says, and kisses Kurt once more. Around them Kurt can hear the sound of the party renewing, losing interest in them. He ignores it, curled up in Blaine’s arms.

----

When morning comes the next day, a few thoughts enter Kurt’s mind before he has a chance to fully awaken.

The first is that he’s almost surprised not to wake up to Blaine’s cock in some form, as his new mate has proved himself to be something of a sexual beast. Even after the mating ceremony, Blaine wanted to engage once more before bed. Kurt had to warn Blaine to go easy on his penis or he wouldn't be able to do a thing the next day.

The second is a realization; Blaine isn’t in bed with him. While Kurt had grown used to sleeping alone, he knows he shouldn’t be now. He has one wild, fleeting thought that it had all been a dream, and even rolls onto his side to check his tally board, but it’s still just a big smudge of black from wiping it away the day before.

He notices Blaine, then, across the room, his back to Kurt, facing the table, and a surge of relief washes over Kurt. He silently berates himself because it’s a little pathetic to get so worried at Blaine’s absence. Kurt shakes off the unsettled feeling and sits up, stretching and letting out a long yawn. He feels completely refreshed; better than he has in a very long time.

He catches Blaine smiling at him and returns it. “Good morning.”

“Good afternoon, more like, but we’ll pretend it’s morning,” Blaine say with a quick grin, and lifts a tray from the table to bring over to the bed.

“What’s all this?” Kurt asks, curious. Blaine sets it on the bed and crawls in next to Kurt. There are two plates of food, fresh fruit and little bowl of porridge, the smell of it making Kurt’s stomach rumble. He smiles over at Blaine, touched. “You made breakfast? Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Blaine.”

“I don’t have to do much besides eating and sleeping, but I enjoy pleasing you,” Blaine says, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Which I learned very well yesterday,” Kurt says with a tiny smile, blushing when he realizes how boldly sexual his joke is.

Blaine laughs and kisses him on the mouth before settling in beside him. “Eat.”

They stop talking to eat, sitting in companionable quiet, feeding each other bits of their meal from time to time even though they both have the same food. Every now and then Blaine will lean in to taste the sweetness of the fruit from Kurt’s lips, or slip a cherry from his lips to Kurt’s.

“Please tell me you don’t have to go anywhere today,” Kurt says, when their meals are mostly done.

“No, today is a day of rest for everyone,” Blaine says, looking glad of the fact. “And anyway, I have some gifts I still need to give you.”

Kurt perks up. “Gifts? For me?”

Blaine laughs at his expression. “Of course. There were many wonderful things to trade for.”

Kurt hadn’t expected this, and looks to Blaine eagerly, already moving the food tray to the floor. “I would love to see what you’ve brought back!”

Blaine retrieves one of his packs and brings it to the bed, re-joining Kurt at his side. He looks inside and pulls out a beautiful shirt made of sky blue satin with gold embellishments, and Kurt is transfixed with how lovely it is.

“Gods, Blaine, this must have been a fortune,” he breathes, touching one of the sleeves to feel the texture of the cloth.

“It was worth it,” Blaine says, mouth smiling so widely with his gaze steady on Kurt’s face.

“May I wear it right now?” Kurt asks, looking pleadingly at Blaine.

“Of course,” Blaine hurries to answer, helping Kurt put it on.� “I wasn’t sure if it would fit you, but I thought if it didn’t, you would be able to fix it the way you made my tunic.”

Kurt smooths out the fabric once it’s on him, looking down to admire the way it makes him look like a proper gentleman.� “I love it. It’s perfect.” He smiles up at Blaine. “What do you think?”

“It looks beautiful on you,” Blaine says, not taking his eyes from Kurt’s face. “It reminded me of your eyes.”

Kurt blushes a little, and Blaine is already moving to take out the next present. There are a few more articles of clothing, a few adornments like a bracelet and a collar, which Blaine told him were popular in that region. He said that many of the city people had walked around in fancy clothing like those he’d gotten for Kurt, and that they enjoyed styling their hair in unusual ways. Kurt says the place sounds heavenly, and Blaine’s expression looks strange at that, reaching into the bag for a new gift instead of agreeing.

The next gifts are books, illustrated with intricate drawings in ink. “I know you’re just learning the language, and you probably can’t read it yet—many of us can’t because we don’t have a lot of use for reading and writing, but…”

“No, Blaine, hush, it’s fine. They’re wonderful either way. And Quinn has been teaching me some,” he smiles reassuringly, running his hands over the title indents on the covers. “The illustrations can help us along.”

Blaine seems reassured by that. “And there is one more gift.” He lifts a box from his bag, setting it on his lap to open. “I worried so much that this would break.” From the box he brings out the most stunning tea set Kurt has ever seen, even more than any they had used in the kingdom. The teapot and cups are a smooth, shiny white, with beautiful, delicate flowers in all shades of blue woven around their exterior. Some of the flowers are edged in gold, and each curved handle is as well. It’s enough to make him gasp.

“Oh, Blaine, how did you even get this?” he asks, picking up the teapot with both hands for a closer look.

“I traded some cacao, macaw feathers, and dried Giant Munia meat. Many of the people are eager to trade for things that aren’t easy for them to get,” Blaine says, smiling in delight as though the gifts are for him.

“These are too lovely, Blaine. I thought you were going for supplies. Your trading items were wasted on me,” Kurt murmurs, upset by the idea that Blaine gave away so many things he spent so much time on just to buy Kurt some presents.

“You think they’re a waste?” Blaine asks, face falling.

“No, no,” Kurt says in a rush, setting the teapot back in its box, touching Blaine’s arm. “I love them, Blaine. Truly. I just…don’t feel like I deserve them.”

But it’s more than even that. None of the gifts are practical. None of them are suited for the life they live here among the trees. Where is he to wear this fabulous shirt? It would be ruined in under an hour with the work he does daily. How is he to read books when these people have no use for written prose? And there is surely no one to appreciate the delicacy of his tea set. The cups are so small you won’t get much from them. No one sips, here. No one’s pinky finger extends as they drink.

It isn’t that he doesn’t like them, it’s that they don’t fit. He can’t help but be reminded of how he’s felt for so long. He was just beginning to feel like he belonged, but these gifts only serve to remind him of his other life, the one he doesn’t miss so much at all anymore. He would almost prefer the first gifts, the deer that would supply them with food and clothing, the knife he could use for protection while he’s out in the jungle, the…

Okay, not that creature.

That realization, the foreignness of the gifts, it all sits uncomfortably in Kurt’s gut, but he certainly doesn’t have the heart to tell Blaine. Blaine went through so much trouble.

Blaine, who is frowning at him almost sadly. “Kurt, you deserve everything.”

Kurt does not even know what to say to that, but he isn’t given the chance either way. Blaine tips him back against the pillows, kissing him sweetly. All these lovely gifts, when all Kurt really wants is this.

----

Being Blaine’s mate is more than Kurt could have hoped for.

Kurt doesn’t have to fight what’s in his heart anymore. He’s never scared. He feels safe, he feels connected. He knows now that this is his home, these are his people, here in the Wild with Blaine. But the greatest thing of all is that Kurt has found someone to cherish, someone who loves him. He wants to be with Blaine, he knows he wouldn’t be complete without him.

Kurt and Blaine spend the days following the mating ceremony learning each other’s bodies like they’re making up for lost time. They rarely leave the treehouse or each other’s side. They discover each other’s interests, share thoughts. Kurt has found he can say anything to Blaine and Blaine never judges him. �Blaine still loves to be read to, he nearly comes undone from head massages, he likes to make Kurt breakfast and sing with him and watch him make new garments out of old ones.

It really is perfect…except one little thing. When Kurt thought to himself those months ago that he barely knew Blaine, he later realized he barely knew Blaine. He knew important things -- how sweet Blaine could be, how clever, how strong. And he has been learning new things as well; like what food Blaine prefers, what chores he hates, how he feels about certain members of the tribe. But Kurt still doesn’t know many personal things, like who Blaine’s parents were, how he became leader, or what he was like as a child.

Blaine has always seemed like an open book to Kurt, but now that they can talk, Kurt has noticed that Blaine isn’t. Not exactly.� Not about everything. Blaine is an amazing listener, but when it comes to sharing things about himself, Blaine has been holding back.

----

Kurt brings it up with Quinn one afternoon when they’re having tea. It’s hot and balmy outside, and at least in the house there are less bugs and plenty of shade. Quinn has been complaining of a backache and stomach cramps all morning, so he’s reluctant to talk about it, but he also just really wants to know.

“Quinn, has Blaine ever told you about his family?”

“Hm?” Quinn looks up, face showing that she hadn’t expected that kind of question. “No, not really. I do know about them, but not from Blaine directly. Why?”

Kurt sighs, frowning at the table. “He won’t talk to me about it. He evades any real discussion about his personal life. I’ve talked about mine, but he’s so…closed off. And he’s been more withdrawn as the days go by, I don’t understand…”

“I think Blaine is just private about certain things. He is earnest, and he’s such a good leader, but he’s also just human like the rest of us. I don’t think he means to keep things from you, he might not even realize he’s doing it,” Quinn says, and then, encouraging, “Give him time, okay?”

“I know.” Kurt nods. “I will. I guess I just worry.”

Quinn smiles knowingly, something teasing in it. “You’ve turned out to be such a sweetheart.”

Kurt blushes, appalled. He sits up straight. “How dare you. I’ll have you know that in my land I was nearly a Prince.”

Quinn, who Kurt can tell was about to retort with something sassy, instead squints, sitting back in her chair to study him. “You’re a Sylvester?”

“My mother was Elizabeth Sylvester, Sue’s sister. You know of Sue?” Kurt leans forward, interest piqued. “You did come from my kingdom?”

“Wow, I don’t see her in you at all. But yes, I’m from behind the Wall.” Quinn sighs, seeming reluctant to go on. “My father disowned me for being ‘promiscuous.’” Her fingers make air quotes around the word, a bite to it. “I…was actually pregnant, years ago. When I was about your age.” She stops, and again Kurt isn’t sure she’s going to continue. He almost says something, but she keeps speaking. “My father was head priest at temple, he had a lot of influence. When he found out about my pregnancy, he had me banished. Simple as that.”

Kurt looks at Quinn in sympathy. He realizes why the name Fabray seemed familiar. He remembers that priest, but he had passed away some years ago. Kurt, not particularly involved with the temple, had never personally met the man. He remembers him from services, balding and stern looking, reserved. Nothing like the beautiful woman who has become Kurt’s dear friend.

“I’m so sorry, Quinn,” Kurt says.

Quinn smiles to herself, eyes downward, then finally raises them to Kurt’s and directs the smile at him. “It’s okay, Kurt. It took a long time to heal, and I’m not sure it ever really stops hurting. But I have a new life here, a good life. It’s what I hoped you would find, too.”

“I have,” Kurt say, forcing the words through a tight throat.

“Good,” she says, just as quiet. She takes his hand, and a long moment passes where they simply look at each other.

She gets up from her chair and begins to move around the table, and Kurt knows it’s for a hug and begins to stand, when Quinn’s hand gives Kurt’s a squeeze, and Kurt’s about to let go, but…she squeezes tighter. Really tight. Really…

“Ow! Quinn!”

Quinn’s face contorts, lips parted around a strangled, strange sound. “Oh, Kurt…” He hears something like water splashing against the floorboards, and then Quinn says, “Oh shit that’s a lot—”

“Did you just say shit?”

“Kurt!”

“What? I don’t get it…did you accidentally pee?” he asks, lowering his voice.

Quinn looks like she wants to throw something at him. “I’m having the baby!”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “What? Right now? Ohmygods we have to—Where’s Puck? I’ll go get him!”

“No—” Quinn looks frantic. “Don’t leave me up here. My water broke, that’s all. I’ll go down, we’ll go find him together.”

“You can’t go down the ladder!” Kurt all but screeches, his voice reaching even higher octave than he thought possible.

“I’m not having my baby in your house!”

Kurt tries to think around the consuming feeling of panic. “We can…I can send you down the basket!”

“That thing!?”

“Blaine lifted a whole deer in it once!� Well, most of a deer—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust the basket, I don’t trust those skinny arms not to drop me!”

“My arms are not skinny!”

Their bickering is interrupted by Blaine coming up the ladder. “Are you two fighting?” And it takes Kurt a moment, having not even realized Blaine was there until he was just there.

“Thank gods! Blaine, Quinn is having her baby, you have to go find Puck and Tina—”

“And get me down from here,” Quinn chimes in, but her complaint is broken by a pained moan, and she bends in toward herself, holding her stomach.

Kurt has to stop himself from flapping his arms in a worried flail. “You can’t!”

“Okay, Kurt, you need to calm down,” Blaine says in a soothing voice, touching his shoulders. “Quinn, you will absolutely stay put. It’s going to be just fine, the baby has been due to come around this time, and you’re in good health. Just lay down and try to relax, and I’ll take care of everything. I’ll go get Puck and Tina.”

Blaine disappears back down the ladder, and Quinn shuffles her way over to the bed. Kurt jumps in to help, thinking with a tad bit of resentment that of course she listened to Blaine and not him. But the edge seems to be taken off both of them, and he also knows that’s Blaine’s doing. It’s just another example of why Blaine is leader, he can handle situations calmly and make you feel calmed, too.

Kurt helps Quinn onto the bed, too concerned for her to even move their best animal pelts out from under where there is sure to be a disgusting mess. He adjusts the pillows behind her and pulls up a chair at the bedside to hold her hand, murmuring reassurances, asking more than once if she needs anything.

After what feels like an eternity, Puck, Tina, and Blaine make their way up the ladder. Kurt jumps to his feet, though he’s less quick to release Quinn’s hand and his chair to Puck. As Tina starts asking questions and checking Quinn over, Kurt backs up until his shoulder hits Blaine’s chest. Worried, he glances over, and Blaine loops his arms around Kurt’s middle, pulling Kurt’s body snug against his.

“It’s going to be fine. Tina is an amazing doctor,” he murmurs against Kurt’s ear, but Kurt isn’t convinced. He doesn’t think Blaine is as calm inside as he’s trying to come off as, either.

Blaine must sense Kurt’s nerves, because he backs them both up until they’re sitting in the rocking chair reserved for Quinn’s visits. Kurt adjusts himself on Blaine’s lap, not unlike a child, and lets himself be held.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispers, face tilted toward Blaine’s though his eyes are on the bed. “Quinn told me she was pregnant years ago. Where is that child?”

Blaine, who had begun to rock, stills. A long moment passes before he answers, his voice hushed so only the two of them can hear. “That baby didn’t make it.” Blaine’s arms tighten around Kurt as Kurt begins to turn in them. “Relax, shh. It was a different situation. She had been alone in the jungle for weeks, her body was deprived, and emotionally she was…stressed, to say the least. It was also a child from another person, and the baby hadn’t been in her stomach as long as this one has been. With this pregnancy she’s prepared, it’s the right time for birth, she has a doctor. She has all of us. She’s going to be safe.”

Blaine’s hands caress Kurt’s arms, soothing him. Kurt wants to be reassured, but he knows that so many things can go wrong in childbirth. When Quinn begins to scream from birthing pains, Kurt can’t watch anymore. He turns his body and buries his face against Blaine’s neck. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Blaine whispers, and rubs Kurt’s back, slowly rocking them.

----

After so long waiting, at some point during the night, Kurt must have fallen asleep. He’s jolted awake by the sound of crying, of Blaine’s body underneath his shifting, moving. Blaine is saying, “Kurt, the baby,” in an excited sort of voice, and then they’re both standing while Kurt is still trying to get his bearings.

“Quinn?”

Kurt takes stock of his surroundings. It looks to be early morning, low light glowing from outside through the open windows. Puck and Tina are still at Quinn’s bedside, and a few other people have joined them as well. Quinn looks pale and exhausted, hair sweat-dampened and matted down, but her smile…

He’s never seen her smile the way she is smiling down at the tiny, crying bundle in her arms.

Everyone is talking to her, even Blaine, but all Kurt can do is stare.

Puck takes a turn holding the baby, and when he gets it to stop crying he passes it back to Quinn. Quinn looks up and locks eyes with Kurt. She smiles. “Come meet your new baby sister, Kurt.”

“Sister?” Kurt echoes in disbelief.

“Mm. Little Beth,” Quinn says, smoothing back a tuft of blonde hair on top of the baby’s head.

Blaine nudges Kurt over to the bed, still standing at his back, and it’s something like a miracle that Kurt can even get his feet to comply after hearing Quinn call her baby his sister.

“Do you really mean that? Sister?” Kurt asks, gazing down at Beth.

“Don’t you think she’s going to need some strong brothers to take care of her?” Quinn asks, smiling up at both of them. “At least until she’s old enough to learn to spar.”

Blaine is hugging Kurt from behind again, mouth against the back of Kurt’s neck in a kiss, his shoulder. Kurt knows Blaine’s smiling, and can’t hold back a smile of his own, eyes suddenly stinging. “I think I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

----

The birth of Quinn’s daughter seems to jolt Kurt and Blaine out of their honeymoon phase. Not because they have to take care of Quinn, but the experience reminds them that there are things happening outside their treehouse.

When this happens, when they are finally able to function outside of each other, Blaine teaches Kurt what his responsibilities are as co-leader. It doesn’t seem as intimidating as Kurt thought; it involves making sure there are enough supplies, food, clothing, that people have what they need, that they’re happy. Sometimes fights need to be broken up, disputes settled, but Blaine and a few others who seem to be what Kurt would call palace guards, take care of those.

Blaine becomes especially busy in preparation for rain season. Kurt questions this. They always have their fair share of rain, but Blaine tells him that at this time of year it can get bad, storms and flooding-bad, and there are a lot of pre-emptive measures to be taken to make sure everyone’s houses are sturdy and that their roofs won’t leak. Blaine always comes home by dusk, sometimes tired, sweaty, dirty, other times clean and wet from a dip in the river because he knows how much Kurt values hygiene. Either way, they make love. Kurt can’t ever seem to get enough of touching Blaine, and even when Blaine is exhausted, he makes sure to save the last of his energy for Kurt.

But all the work Blaine is doing is beginning to take its toll. Something is. Kurt can tell by the way Blaine’s smile comes slower than normal lately, by the way he continuously asks Kurt if he’s okay, and the desperation in his eyes when he comes. He holds so tight to Kurt in bed that sometimes Kurt wakes up in the middle of the night from a dream where he’s suffocating.

One morning, when Blaine wakes up ridiculously early, probably to go patch someone’s roof or chop down a tree so someone can get more sunlight through their window or something, and Kurt just can’t take it anymore - Kurt stops him. He rolls on top of Blaine and pins him to the blankets, knowing this is the fastest and easiest route to keep Blaine put.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks, hands sliding up Kurt’s sides, looking up at Kurt like he’s starving for him.

“Stay,” Kurt pleads, not meaning for it to come out like that, and yet.

“Kurt…”

“Please, Blaine. You’re running yourself thin. The tribe can survive a day without you.”

Blaine’s solemn mouth tilts into an uncertain, but hopeful smile. He sits up, leaning in to kiss Kurt softly. “Okay. Anything you want.”

Kurt smiles and kisses Blaine in reply with a whispered, “Thank you.”

The kiss grows heated, and Kurt can feel Blaine stir underneath him. This wasn’t Kurt’s intention, and he pulls away, inhales hard. “This isn’t—I want to talk. Can we go somewhere?”

----

Somewhere ends up being a few miles off, past gentle hills and into a sprawling field of tall grass and flowers. They find a spot where the grass thins out (the work of local deer, Blaine tells him) to sit. It’s a warm day, but there’s a breeze and the sun feels good, and no one will bother them out here in the middle of nowhere.

Blaine has picked some flowers along the way, and presents them to Kurt, his smile nearly shy. “For you.”

Kurt takes them, the nervousness in the pit of his stomach lessening, and breathes in their scent before sitting across from Blaine. “Thank you.”

“This is nice,” Blaine says, looking around at their surroundings, smiling at Kurt. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“I know you have a lot of responsibilities. And I don’t mind that you’re busy, even. But something doesn’t feel right, Blaine, and every time I try to bring it up, or hint at it, you either evade my questions or kiss me, and in that case one thing leads to another, and…well.” Kurt blushes, amazed he can still blush after all the things they’ve done together. “Then there is no discussion.”

Blaine doesn’t meet Kurt’s eyes. He doesn’t say anything for such a long time that Kurt is about to prompt him, when finally Blaine opens his mouth to speak.

“I came to the tribe when I was two. Or rather, the tribe found me, as it was told by my father. My father…was not my real father. He would have been more of a grandfather. He was leader at the time, and he took Cooper and me in and raised us. They—my father and his wife, my mother—suspected we were gypsy children, but never found our people, so it was never truly known.

“Cooper was seven at the time, and wouldn’t speak for a year. My father never knew why. Being so young, I can’t remember who my real parents were, and Cooper claimed to have no memory of them. The tribe became our people, especially for me, I didn’t know anything else.”

Blaine glances up, wiping his hands on his knees, his gaze fleeting.

“Cooper was always restless. At age twelve he was allowed to go on a trading expedition, and convinced our parents to let me go as well, even though I was only seven. I remember the sights and sounds of the city, the way the buildings towered, not as tall as the trees but somehow more imposing. I think it scared me a little, at seven,” he explains.

Kurt reaches for Blaine’s hand and holds it in his own, not sure where this is leading, but knowing there is pain in the way Blaine can’t meet his eyes, in the slow coming of his words.

“When we returned, we found out that our mother had died. She was old, older than I think either of us realized as children. I was devastated.”

Kurt feels his stomach lurch and his chest tighten, Blaine’s confession triggering the memory of the discovery of his own mother’s death. His fingers squeeze Blaine’s palm. “Oh, Blaine,” he whispers.

“I refused to go on another trip. Somehow, my child’s mind felt it was my fault because I wasn’t there. I…associated the traveling with her death, I couldn’t process it.” Blaine sighs, a long pause before he continues. “Cooper didn’t feel the same. He lives to travel, he loves cities. The only reason he didn’t go on this last trip is because he’d fallen ill. He would have gone instead of me, I wanted him to—” Blaine finally looks up, really looks at Kurt. “I was scared to leave you.”

“Did you think I would die?” Kurt asks, voice hushed.

Blaine smiles momentarily, shakes his head. “I was scared you would leave.”

Kurt wants to refute it, but knows Blaine’s worry wasn’t completely unfounded.

Blaine continues before Kurt can figure out how to respond. “Quinn told me you wanted to, that you talked about wanting to leave as soon as you learned to speak, and that when you found out about the trip you’d asked to come along. She warned me because she knew how much I felt for you. She didn’t want me to get my hopes up. Kurt, I didn't even know if you'd still be here when I got back,” he says, voice thick with anguish.”

Kurt swears under his breath. “I’m sorry, Blaine, I didn’t—”

“No, Kurt,” Blaine says, covering the top of Kurt’s hand with his free one. “I understand. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave. Your people are so different from mine. Your land sounds…great. You live in a castle, and there are exciting battles, and dragons…”

Wait.

“Dragons?”

“Like in your book,” Blaine says, so seriously that Kurt surprises the both of them by the laugh Blaine’s expression brings.

“My book? Blaine, those are just stories. They aren’t real,” he says, getting control of himself.

“I know they’re stories, but…” Blaine looks confused. “I thought they were about real things.”

“They’re just tales for children.” Kurt shakes his head and sobers a little, wanting to explain himself. “It’s true, my people are different from yours, and it is true that I wanted to leave.”

“I really thought you were going to,” Blaine starts to say, sounding scared even now.

Kurt moves, nearly into Blaine’s lap, needing Blaine to hear him. “But I didn’t. And I won’t.” He smiles, trying to get Blaine to relax. “We had a mating ceremony. Didn’t that mean anything? Besides public sex?”

Blaine does smile a little, but Kurt can still see the lines of worry on his forehead. “I rushed it,” he says. “I wasn’t even back a full day.”

“True,” Kurt says, affectionately smoothing back some of Blaine’s hair. “But you had been asking to be my mate since I arrived.”

Blaine smiles, almost self-deprecatingly bashful, at that. “My people…my culture, I think, is simpler than yours. From what I’ve learned of yours. I’m sure you must have expected—wanted something different.”

“And you think I regret it, because it was so spontaneous?” Kurt asks.

Blaine’s smile disappears, eyebrows drawing up with guilt.

Kurt leans in to kiss Blaine, slow, and with feeling. “Do I seem unhappy to you?”

“I worry that I can’t give you the kind of life you want,” Blaine says, his voice coming out hoarse. “That it won’t be enough, like it isn’t for Cooper. If you want to leave, I understand, but I want you to know I’m willing to go with you—”

Kurt presses a finger to Blaine’s lips. “No. Blaine, I have no people. You’re my people. I don’t feel incomplete when I’m with you, I don’t feel like something is missing. Not even a hot bath.”

Blaine’s eyes are wet and he laughs, just a little squeak. His smile is the smile Kurt loves, where Blaine’s eyes are half-moons and lines crinkle at the corners. The smile that’s just for him.

“I know we’re only just learning about each other, but I already loved you before we could say three words between us. Your actions, the way you were with your people—the way you looked at me,” Kurt whispers, breath hitching, eyes searching. “I’m never saying goodbye to you, Blaine.”

“Kurt.” Blaine’s voice cracks, hands reaching to cup the back of Kurt’s head and bring their mouths together in a searing kiss. Blaine, in his hunger to kiss Kurt’s lips numb, nearly topples them both over. Kurt takes over, pressing Blaine back into the grass, straddling him, bent over his body so their mouths don’t have to part.

“Need you, always need you,” Kurt says in a breathy voice.

They take their time, lying naked and tangled together under the late summer sun. Blaine’s hands map out Kurt’s body like it’s the first time he’s been given permission to touch, hands stroking the most innocent of places, elbows and the backs of knees, to the most intimate. Kurt returns the favor with his mouth, kissing each rib, licking along the trail of dark hair down Blaine’s abdomen, nuzzling his soft thighs. Without anything on hand but saliva, Kurt can’t enter Blaine like he so desperately wants. Instead, Blaine takes them both in hand, pumping with the aid of spit and pre-come, staring up at Kurt with eyes half-open and mouth parted, panting softly, moaning his name.

Kurt needs that mouth and dips back down to kiss and kiss, bringing his hand to join Blaine’s. Warmth follows, soft cries and harsh breathing, whispered gratitude.

Blaine cradles Kurt to his body, languidly kissing his face, his sweat-matted hair. He murmurs his love for Kurt, promises he always will. Kurt nuzzles salty skin and makes his own promises, tugging gently at the leather bracelet around Blaine’s wrist.

When Kurt can feel his legs again and seems able to summon the energy to move, he gives Blaine one last kiss and sits up to pull his pants back on. As lovely as that was, the grass is tickling him, making him itch. Blaine does the same, and won’t stop smiling at Kurt with the mooniest expression.

“Should we go back?” Blaine asks, running his fingers through Kurt’s hair, shaking out a leaf and a few blades of grass.

“Just a little longer,” Kurt says, not yet ready to share Blaine with others. Blaine doesn’t argue Kurt’s decision, and Kurt settles against Blaine’s side. He picks up the bouquet and begins to separate the flowers, absently weaving two together to start a chain. “Tell me more about your parents?”

Blaine opens up, recalling memories that are clearly cherished. He tells stories about how his father taught him how to hunt, how to make a fire and cook, how his mother taught him to be gentle, and to build and fix and use tools. They had wanted children of their own for so long, but had never been able to conceive, and they believed Blaine and Cooper were their greatest blessing.

“They were amazing leaders, Kurt. I was able to watch my father lead until I was seventeen, before he died from old age. He told me I’d be leader after him, though leadership isn’t a matter of linage with my people. Not handed down from parents to child. It’s determined more by who is the smartest and the strongest. Who the people trust. They wanted me, though…the tribe.” He blushes as he says this, looking like he still can’t believe it.

“Smart tribe,” Kurt says, smiling knowingly. “You’re a good man, Blaine. You take care of everyone, you should be proud.”

“I…am happy in my position. Happier to have someone to share it with,” Blaine says, briefly touching Kurt’s cheek.

Kurt shakes his head fondly. “I don’t know how well I can take care of a tribe, but I promise to take care of you.”

Blaine’s gaze fills with such warmth, that Kurt suspects Blaine hasn’t had anyone take care of him in a long time.

“Do you know what they call leaders where I’m from?” Kurt asks, placing the wreath of flowers atop Blaine’s head.

Blaine glances up and laughs. “There’s another word for it?”

“Sort of. A leader of a kingdom is a called a ‘King’ or a ‘Queen’,” he says in his language, admiring the wreath on Blaine’s head. “Sometimes there is one, or both. And that crown makes you King.”

“Does that mean you are a ‘Queen’?” Blaine asks, trying the word out.

It’s Kurt’s turn to laugh. “No, a Queen is a woman, a King is a man.”

Blaine smiles and plucks a nearby flower. Not having a wreath on hand, he tucks the flower behind Kurt’s ear. “Then you are my King.”

Kurt grins and leans in to kiss Blaine, tasting the sweetness of Blaine’s smile with a soft press of lips. “So we shall be.”

“I wish I could see your homeland,” Blaine murmurs, keeping close to Kurt.

“Oh, it’s all just towering buildings, dear,” Kurt says.

Blaine looks as though he’s going to reply, when his gaze focus beyond Kurt, eyebrows drawn in concern. “Do you hear that?”

“Hm?” Kurt turns to look, but sees nothing. He hears it, though, as his attention has been redirected. “A horse?”

“But not from the direction of home,” Blaine says, standing. Kurt follows, and they both look in the direction of the sound. The horse is moving at a slow pace, which quickens when, Kurt suspects, it reaches the meadow. It isn’t easy navigating a steed through the jungle, and wild horses don’t live in this area.

The first thing Kurt notices —�because how can he not? —�like a bright, flashing sign, are the colors of his kingdom on the horse’s saddlecloth. The reins, even, are red and white. Kurt swears his heart stops beating, and he must forget what breathing is, because he finds himself inhaling sharply in a desperate attempt for air. “Blaine, it’s…”

The rider must see them, because he slows his mount and brings it to a trot in their direction. As he comes closer, Kurt recognizes just who he is.

“Sam?” Kurt’s voice rings across the meadow.

There’s an uncertain, “Kurt?” in reply, and Kurt knows immediately. It is Sam, one of the palace guards.

“Sam! It’s me!” Kurt calls, though Sam is close enough to properly see now. Kurt’s smile is wide. Blaine must be less enthused, because Kurt feels Blaine’s arm brush his, then outright press against it. “It’s fine.” Kurt turns to look at Blaine, wanting to reassure. “Sam is fine, he’s nice.”

At first, Kurt thinks Blaine is angry, defensive, even, but it doesn’t take much more than a moment to realize Blaine also looks scared.

“Kurt!” Sam laughs. He brings his horse to a stop, just a few feet away. “I can’t believe I actually found you!”

“Were you looking for me?” Kurt asks, a hundred questions suddenly popping into his mind. What is Sam doing so far from the kingdom? Has he been banished? Why? And how, then, does he have a mount?

“Sue was overthrown!” Sam exclaims. “It’s a long story; Becky’s kind of standing in, but Becky’s no leader, y’know? Anyway, you’re next in line for the throne. You’re the rightful heir, little Prince. You go back home and you’ll be King!”

Kurt is shocked by the news, but it’s that last part that really gets him. He barely has a moment to even process, when Blaine interjects.

“What is he saying?”

Kurt blinks, as though coming out of a daze, and translates for Blaine. He can see Blaine steeling himself, jumping to conclusions, already preparing for Kurt’s farewell. But Kurt doesn’t need to consider Sam’s offer. He doesn’t take even a moment to follow that idea down the rabbit hole. Instead, he takes Blaine’s hand.

“I already am a King,” Kurt says to Sam with a proud smile. He turns his smile on Blaine. “I’m not going anywhere.”

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