Blaine dragged Kurt up the long flight of stairs. The ascent seemed to last forever, with each step bringing a flash of red-hot pain shooting through Blaines hips. Had propriety not forbidden it, Blaine would have much rather moved the sleeping quarters to the lower floors to forgo the horrendous trip up this unending flight of stairs.

Blaine looked over his shoulder at his husband, trudging up behind him with a grimace of despair, like an innocent man being led up to the gallows. Blaine was getting tired of his husbands lachrymose depression as of late, the way he walked the grounds alone like a specter, drawing and sighing, and staring up at the sky as if praying for constant help and guidance. Blaine wasnt adverse to his young husband. On the contrary, as a young man, there was many a day he dreamed of having Kurt Hummel as his own. A silly, childish daydream it was. But Blaine had grown to be a much different man – a man who bedded for sport and then forgot.

Kurt could change all that for him – if Blaine would see him smile again, hear him laugh and sing.

Blaine wanted Kurt to love him again, the way he always suspected that Kurt once did – he just didnt know how to make that happen.

But an unfortunate fact of life was that the consummation of marriage was also a legal matter. If Blaine let this go on much longer and Kurt devised a way to establish proof, their marriage could be dissolved, and Blaine couldnt let that happen.

They finally reached the door to Kurts bedchamber, though Kurt did not think of it as his own, not with the ghosts that slept in it alongside him - ghosts that seemed to feel that he was not good enough to be lord of this manor, not good enough to be Blaines husband. Kurt was a ridiculous figurehead in this house, a Count by name alone – a representation of obligation and duty, and nothing more.

Rachel was the actor in their family; Kurt didnt do half as well.

Blaine looked at Kurt, hoping for something hesitant but encouraging - a shy peek of eyes looking up at him, an alluring blush on Kurts cheeks, another thrumming of his pulse through his fair skin, the subtle pinch of Kurts lip between his teeth.

Kurt had his eyes glued to the floor beneath his feet, as if praying the ground would open wide and suck him under.

Blaine sighed.

"Well, then," Blaine said, turning the doorknob and opening the door. "Lets get the unpleasantries over with."

Kurt walked through the doorway, and Blaine hobbled in after him, closing the door behind them with a dull click. While Kurt stood at the foot of the bed with his head bowed, Blaine tried to conjure up those long ago dreams he had of deflowering this boy.

But Kurt was no longer a boy - a fact that became far too evident when he began the arduous task of removing his many layers. Blaine could tell by Kurts labored breathing and the flush of color that had now spread from his cheeks clear down to his chest that he was not experienced either, as he had confessed. Kurt must have felt Blaines eyes on him, felt his urgency, and tried to hurry. Kurts fingers tripped over themselves as they worked through the many buttons on his waistcoat, and the more Blaine watched Kurt fumble with his clothes, the more Blaine became fascinated by the wash of color that had invaded his porcelain complexion. His waistcoat removed, and the top of his shirt undone, Blaine reached out to touch the rising and falling planes of Kurts exposed chest. As Blaines fingertips made contact with his smooth skin, the rise and fall stopped.

Kurt held his breath.

Blaine looked into Kurts face. His eyelids had fluttered shut. His lips were pressed into a thin line, the bottom lip trembling slightly. Blaine smiled a sly, half-cocked grin. It had been a long time since the anticipation of his touch had garnered such a reaction from a man. He slid his hands onto Kurts shoulders and turned him slowly to face away from him. He took up the task of undressing him, letting each garment drop one by one to the polished wood floor. Kurt let out a small gasp of surprise at the prospect of standing before this man in nothing but his bare skin. Blaines nimble fingers had soon dispatched of Kurts bothersome stockings, and all that stood between him and Kurt was the cool evening air. Blaine took the liberty to look up and down the smooth expanse of Kurts flawless skin.

Blaines body responded to Kurt - his pulse racing, his cock hardening - at the way Kurts body seemed to invite Blaine to reach out and touch it. He ran his fingertips down Kurts back, cupping Kurts buttocks in his hands, delighting in the way Kurt shivered at his touch. He pulled Kurt against him so that Kurt could feel the effect he had on him. Blaine let his hands roam over Kurts body, navigating at first his firm, muscular chest, then his taut stomach, and the heavenly juncture of warmth standing between his legs. Kurt jumped a little at Blaines touch; from the feel of Kurts skin on his lips Blaine knew Kurt was blushing anew, and probably enough to light the interior of the entire manor on fire. Blaine felt Kurt shiver, and the thought that he had made Kurt tremble was almost enough to finish him. Kurt turned to face him, but Blaine halted him with his hands firmly placed on Kurts shoulders.

"No," Blaine whispered quietly. "Just like this." Blaine pushed Kurt gently so that he bent at the waist, leaning his upper body against the feather-down mattress of the bed. Blaine let him go only long enough to quickly undo the latches of his belt.

"You wish me turned away from you, my lord?" Kurt asked without turning back to face him.

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine said, muttering a quiet oath as he tugged at his stubborn shirt.

"But..."

"What is it, Kurt?" Blaine asked, focusing more on undressing than the timbre of Kurts voice, which was threatening to break with quiet sobs.

"Isnt this the way that men take their...their whores?"

For the first time, Blaine looked down at Kurt, his beautiful husband bent over like a common trollop. No, this was not the way a nobleman took his husband, but what else could he do? He did not wish for Kurt to see his disfigurement, and he hadnt the strength to confess to Kurt that he could not perform this deed any other way.

Well, that wasnt entirely true.

He could do it with Kurt sitting astride him, but that was too brazen.

Kurt wouldnt consent, and he definitely did not know how.

There was a rush in Blaines body at the thought that someday Kurt might want Blaine to teach him, but now was not that time.

"Did not your mother explain these things to you?" he snapped, preoccupied with his boots and breeches. It was a line he had oft used to set quiet the tongue of many a fretful virgin, but once the words slipped from his lips, he wanted to bite out his own tongue. Burt had spoken to Blaine about the special bond his wife had had with his only son. Kurt had been devastated when his mother had passed on, that much Blaine remembered. Kurt was but a child, but he carried the pain of her loss his entire life. There had been no time for Kurts mother to impart this knowledge to her children, and Burt – knowing what Blaine knew of the man – wouldnt have taken it upon himself to do so. There were always maids and the such, but that wasnt the point. How insensitive could Blaine be? Another look at his young husband showed Blaine that he was beset with tears, but trying hard not to let Blaine hear his soft sobs.

Blaine put his hands on Kurts shoulders and brought him back up to stand against him.

"I am truly sorry, Kurt," he said softly. "How insensitive of me. I have no excuse for my behavior."

"I understand, my lord," Kurt said, his voice hollow.

Kurts quiet resignation would have infuriated Blaine had he not acted like such an ass.

"In light of my behavior," Blaine began, "It would be perfectly acceptable if you…"

The kisses to his fingertips stopped the words in his mouth. He watched Kurts perfect plush lips brush over the hand on his right shoulder – so soft, so innocent were their touches that Blaine never wanted them to stop. Blaine brought his left hand to his mouth and sucked on his index finger, then he dropped the hand down Kurts back to part his cheeks and search out his entrance. Kurts body shuddered when Blaine found the puckered hole and circled it slowly, the very tip of his finger dipping in as he prepared his young husband to accept him.

Kurt moaned at the sensation of Blaines finger moving inside him, knuckle deep, and he fell forward, lazily laying out on the bed in front of him to give Blaine better access to his body. Kurt didnt understand what could make him surrender to Blaine like this. Bending over the bed, face down in the mattress, seemed dehumanizing when this began, but now he couldnt get enough of Blaine and his fingers (since he had added a second, and was scissoring them open and closed) working inside of him. He was sure he would be appropriately ashamed of his immodest behavior later on, but for now, his body burned to have more.

"You wouldnt happen to have any oil or anything of the like, would you?" Blaine asked in a staggered voice.

"I…" Kurt couldnt think clearly with Blaines fingers deep inside him. "I have some olive oil in an ampoule on the vanity," Kurt said, pointing over by the window. "Over there."

"Olive oil?" Blaine asked, chuckling fondly as he removed his fingers from his husbands tight body.

"For my hair," Kurt said, whimpering at the loss of his husband, who walked across the room to find the oil. Kurt turned his head and watched him, not daring to stand from his spot on the mattress lest his husband change his mind about continuing. Blaine had removed his shirt, and the flickering candlelight in the room showcased all of Blaines muscles – his shoulders, his arms, the long line of his back. Blaine looked more like he labored for a living instead of living the life of an earl. Looking at Blaines body brought back memories of swimming in the lake, shirtless, sometimes completely down to their skin if the weather was hot enough or they simply didnt care. It was all so innocent back then, even when he did feel the stirrings of desire creep over his body, he told himself it was simply a normal physical reaction to looking upon someone so beautiful as he.

But there was more to it then, and there was more to it now.

Kurt turned away before Blaine returned, not sure how Blaine would react to finding his husband staring. Blaine knew that Kurt had no experience with men, but he didnt wish to seem like a complete ignorant.

Blaines fingers returned, this time slick and warm, as if Blaine had drenched his fingers in oil, and then rubbed his hands together to heat them up. This new sensation of heat and wet had Kurt writhing on the bed at his husbands skillful touch, scratching the bed sheets and raising his ass up to meet his husbands fingers.

"Do you want me, my love?" Blaine whispered, reaching beneath Kurts body with one unoccupied hand to stroke Kurts cock, adding to the torture of wet heat controlling his body.

Kurt didnt have to consciously answer. His body did it for him.

"Yes, my lord," Kurt whimpered, straining his body to be closer to him while his knees knocked with the effort.

"Tell me you want me, Kurt," Blaine commanded.

"I want you, my lord," Kurt whined, powerless to obey. Kurts name on Blaines lips was the only command he needed to beg his husband to take him, to do with his body as he pleased.

"I want you, my lord," Kurt muttered, but he found that he meant it in a hundred ways. His body was hungry to have Blaine – there was no denying that. But Kurt wanted love, he wanted his husband, he wanted the daydream of his youth and all the hopes of his adulthood. He wanted all of these things with Blaine, but most of all, he wanted Blaine to love and want him back.

Desperately so.

"I want you," Kurt repeated. "I want you."

Kurt felt Blaines hands slip away, and he almost cried out with the sadism of it. But Blaines body returned, the press of his cock at Kurts entrance causing Kurt to tense. He hadnt yet seen his husband naked, but he knew that the blunt member pressing against his hole was larger than his husbands fingers. There came a stretch and a burn - pure, searing heat tearing his body in two as Blaine slowly, slowly, entered inside him. Kurt had gone completely still as he tried to manage the pain, but each small crawl made Kurt hiss and several times cry out.

"Shhh," Blaine hushed, running a hand down Kurts back to soothe him, stopping when Kurt cried, giving him time to relax. "Its alright, my love," he said, gritting his teeth as Kurts heat engulfed him, wanting to cry out himself at the agony of entering into this paradise so slowly.

Kurts body became accustomed to the intrusion of Blaines body into his; the pain began to dull, and then disappear. Kurt felt Blaine settle against him, their bodies flush together. With Blaines cock stretching him, filling him, there was a relaxing sense of completion that overwhelmed Kurt – mind and soul. Blaine moved, the drag of his cock inside Kurts body washing away the disquiet of the last four weeks, like sands wash away with the tides. Blaines hands crawled over Kurts back with gentle massages, alleviating the pain in his back that stretching his body caused. Blaine leaned forward slightly, making adjustments for his leg, reaching around Kurts body to find his prize.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine moaned, his husbands cock heavy in his hand, his body tight around him, losing himself in the bliss of Kurts heat.

Kurt edged closer and closer, and he began to feel it - that well of emotion that didnt come from the heat coiling in his stomach as his husband brought him to completion, but the feeling he once had for Blaine – of love and desire and honest affection. Blaine came with Kurts name on his lips, leaning over Kurts body and capturing his mouth, kissing Kurt sweetly...so sweetly, it was painful. Kurt moaned into Blaines mouth, but before Kurt could think to reciprocate, Blaine pulled away. He left Kurts body completely and began to dress.

"Well, this marriage has been consummated," Blaine said, his eyes turning hard once again for absolutely no reason that Kurt could comprehend. "I wont trouble you any longer."

Blaine turned, limping toward the door, traveling from bed frame to chair to table as he had left his cane downstairs. Kurt started to rise from the bed when he saw it – the sketchbook, knocked to the floor and open to the drawing of Adam, aside the nosegay, which had fallen from the table as Kurt had undressed.

Tokens of Kurts affection for another man.

But had Blaine talked to him, if Kurt could make Blaine listen…

Kurt was afraid it might be too late, that he had lost his chance at winning Blaines affections for good.

Oh, how delicate the pride and ego of a man!

Kurt knew it too well, since his own had as well been shattered.

Kurt was so distraught he could hardly stand it. He sat on the edge of the lonely bed and listened as Blaines uneven footsteps retreated down the hall. Not until he was certain that Blaine had entered the confines of his own master bedroom and shut the door behind him did Kurt finally break down and weep. He laid his head against the cold comfort of the sheets and bedcovers that he would occupy...alone. How could this have happened? Kurt had grown into a man somewhat jaded and little possessed of any of the beliefs he once held about romance and love and fate. But the only hope he had always held dear was this; that a man would come along, sweep him off his feet, and marry him.

Now it had happened, and his beautiful dream was truly over.

Blaine sat up in his own four-poster, head throbbing, suffering the sleep of the just. A scuffling noise passing down the hall caught his attention. He listened as the soft footfalls of Kurts maid descended the hall toward his chambers. Kurt must have rung for her. Blaine could tell the young womans footsteps apart from the other servants in the house. He heard a small scratching on the oak door and the sound of the hinges as the door creaked slowly open. For a moment, before the door shut softly in its frame, he thought he heard the sound of muffled weeping. Intrigued and somewhat alarmed, he rose from bed, quickly affixed his false limb to the stump of his leg, and limped stiffly down the hall, trying with great effort to mute the sound of his wooden limb against the hard floor.

The door to Kurts bed chamber had been left open just a crack, and Blaine peeked inside. In the dwindling candlelight, Blaine could make out the figure of the young maid, her hands folded solemnly in front of her as she gazed down at the crumpled figure of a man dressed in his night shirt.

"What happened, milord?" Marley inquired of her master as she sat beside him.

"I never thought...I did not believe..." Kurts sobs made his laments nearly incomprehensible. Marley took a folded linen napkin from her apron and placed it gently in Kurts cupped hand. Kurt sat upright slowly, patting his eyes dry with the small fabric square.

"Oh, Marley," Kurt sobbed. "I couldnt have imagined that he would be so...so...heartless." And with that final confession, he broke down uncontrollably. The young maid met her heartbroken master with open arms and held him in her embrace, running her fingers soothingly through his mussed hair.

Blaine had been called many things by a fair share of lovers - cad, incorrigible, cruel - and none of those names had penetrated his icy veneer. But for some reason, hearing the word heartless spoken from Kurts lips made his heart lurch into his throat. He backed away from the door.

But what did Kurt expect when his affections were occupied elsewhere?

It hit Blaine with an almost palpable smack to the brain. Kurt expected a husband. Maybe Kurts affections would change if he had married a man who acted like one. Kurt knew none of Blaines burdens, none of his angst. Kurt was not to blame for the position Blaine found himself in.

Blaine sighed. He put a hand to his head to stop it from thrumming and retreated back to his room.