Chapter 16:

"I want to do something for you, Kurt."

The voice had been muffled slightly, Blaine's head buried into the crook of the Sub's neck as they lay on the dishevelled sheets, and Kurt wasn't quite sure what he'd said. His head quirked awkwardly, trying to see his Lord's face as he felt soft lips press against his collarbone gently.

"Blaine ...?"

"...Give you something ... I - I want to give you something. A present. Anything. What do you want?" The words poured out in a flurry of open mouthed kisses and obvious hesitation and Kurt smiled, wriggling out of his Lord's arms playfully in an attempt to sit up. The progress was made all the more difficult by Blaine's hungry mouth chasing his body up the bed, and he couldn't help but giggle at the petulantly protruding bottom lip and sad puppy-eyes that he received in return.

"Blaine ... ugh ... stop ..." He squirmed, "Blaine! ..."

"I want to kiss you. Why won't you let me kiss you?" he pouted.

"I ... ha ... Blaine ... I ... stop kissing me. That's what I want. You said anything. I want to be able to talk to you without having your lips as an additional appendage." Kurt deadpanned in mock disgust, laughing again when Blaine latched on for a final time before holding him back teasingly at arm's length.

"Fine." Blaine grumbled, sitting back on his heels, muttering "I'll be good." without much conviction.

Kurt smiled at him again, reaching for their boxer shorts that had been carelessly strewn down the side of the bed in the midst of their earlier passion, and flung a pair at Blaine. "Put these on, mister - I can't have a serious conversation with you when you're sat in front of me naked."

"Who said I wanted to be serious?" He retorted, but conceded to struggle into the underwear before sitting back opposite Kurt cross legged.

"You said I could ask for anything ..." Kurt threw back before settling himself opposite, pillows propped behind him.

They sat watching each other for a moment, silly grins on both of their faces as they just raked their eyes across bare skin and still-flushed bodies, before Blaine spread his arms wide and quirked an eyebrow. "So ...?"

"So ...?"

"A gift. What do you want? Anything. I want to give you something to show you ..." He trailed off slightly before Kurt jumped in.

"You don't need to give me things, Blaine. I don't need presents to know that you're sorry."

"It's not that." The Lord shrugged. "I ... I - Kurt, I just want to show you I care. I want ..." He looked down at his fingers, now laced a little primly in his lap, and his voice became smaller. "I want to make you smile again."

Kurt reached over and rested his hand on top of his Lord's in soft reassurance. "I am smiling, Blaine." He said gently. He paused to stroke his thumb across the back of the tanned skin of Blaine's knuckles before pulling it back and making an over-the-top display of biting his lip and looking towards the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought. "Anything, huh?"

Flicking his eyes up to take in his Sub, Blaine smirked slightly. "Hmm, am I going to regret that, Mr Hummel? Did I just offer you the keys to the Magic Kingdom?" His eyebrows wiggled ridiculously and Kurt couldn't help but burst out laughing, choking back his face into some semblance of seriousness. "Weeeellll ..." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The Magic Kingdom does sound good. What exactly can one do there?"

"One does not get to find out about the Magic Kingdom until one is granted the keys, and you must wish for that."

"So, are you the Genie now? Am I Aladdin, Blaine?"

"Right here, direct from the lamp. Right here for your very-much wish-fulfilment. Thank you!" Blaine mimed rolling up cuffs and puffing out his chest in a rather too accurate portrayal of the Disney favourite, making Kurt splutter once again. He wondered mildly who would have watched Disney films with the young Anderson before brushing it aside; there was a lot he still didn't know about his Lord and the thought actually made him smile softly at having time to figure some of the new things out. Right now he was just enjoying their childish banter. It had been a while since Kurt had felt young recently.

"You're going to grant me three wishes now?"

"Uh ... almost. You're forgetting the provisos. The ‘quid pro quos' ..."

"Oh that's right, Mr Almighty Powerful Genie ... what's the catch?"

"You only get one wish."

"What kind of a genie only grants one wish, Blaine?"

"The kind that doesn't want to give his Sub too much leeway to take liberties." He grinned, and threw a pillow back at Kurt who caught it deftly, blowing him a cheeky kiss in return.

"Wait, though ... waaiitt a minute ... that makes me your master. I get to be your master in this Genie/Aladdin role-play here." Kurt was bouncing up and down on the covers, slightly too excited by his newly-granted status, before Blaine stuck his tongue out at him and grabbed hold of his feet.

"For now. For this one wish, you get to be master." He grinned. "But never again!" He mouthed in exaggerated sternness.

"Fine, but I'm basking in the glow of my temporary power for a moment, so don't ruin it." He stuck his tongue out in return and squealed when Blaine launched himself forward, sucking the tongue deep into his own mouth and stealing a moment of Kurt's breath. "No fair." He protested, embarrassed at the slightly high and breathless note to his voice. The Lord just smiled knowingly and sat back again.

"Are you ever going to actually ask for something, because my offer might have a time limit if you keep this up ...?"

"If you would just shut up and let me think." They smiled at each other before Kurt lowered his head slightly, his eyes losing a tiny bit of the playful sparkle they'd entertained moments before.

"What? What is it, Kurt?" Blaine's hand reached across and he was suddenly serious again, concerned about the rapid change in his Sub.

Taking a deep breath, and slightly worried that he might be about to destroy once again their carefully balanced harmony, Kurt looked up and met Blaine's eyes. "There is something I want. Something you could do for me."

"Anything, Kurt - I told you. What is it?" Blaine looked eager to please, face open and sweetly imploring.

"My father. I ... I'm -" He sighed. "I just miss my father. I just want to see him. Know that he's ok ..."

There was a moment of silence as Blaine processed what had just been said. He looked genuinely shocked for a moment, as if he'd almost forgotten that life existed beyond their strangely constructed world. He frowned a little at his Sub in concern. "You know he's ok, Kurt. I made sure he was well looked after. I - I wouldn't harm him. I promised you that."

"I know. I do trust you, Blaine, but ... well, he's my father and ... I just miss him, that's all. I don't know what he'd think of me - of this ... but I would give anything to see him and know that he's ok, you know?"

Blaine didn't know, not really; the concept of caring about another human being so much hadn't really been something he'd understood before, and certainly not a parent, but he knew Kurt. He understood Kurt and he felt a flash of pain in his chest as he realised he didn't want to deny him. He knew it was foolish; it was so unlike anything Lord Anderson would do - but that was why it was really quite simple. He took the pale, fragile fingers into his hands and lent forward to press his lips lightly against the beautiful man opposite him.

"I'll make some calls and ... maybe he could come here to visit you ...?"

The last of his words were cut off completely as Kurt flung himself into his open arms, tackling him back onto the bed covers and smothering his face in a litany of kisses. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Blaine couldn't help but grin beneath the insistent affections rained over his flushed skin and they tussled slightly as he gave in to the pleasure of having such an effect on the Sub.

"Well if I'd known you'd be this grateful ..." He smirked against the other man's searching lips, "... I'd have stuck with the three wishes."

Kurt slid his tongue enticingly across the pulse point in Blaine's neck, grinning as the Lord squirmed beneath him, and he felt the tell-tale hardness pressing against his thigh, "I wish to be kissed." He whispered against his ear before slipping his tongue inside the soft shell and swirling it around. "I wish to be kissed." He repeated again before he was grabbed and rolled onto his back with a soft growl from his master.

"No substitutions, exchanges or refunds." Blaine murmured, wiggling his eyebrows once again before swallowing Kurt's laugh with his mouth.  

It had been exactly thirteen minutes since he sent Seth away on the errand and Blaine's foot was tapping aggressively beneath the desk, drumming out an incessant rhythm in a nervous action not quite stamped out in childhood. Previously it had been marked as impatience towards his fellow Lords and employees, but recently it had seemed more obviously to betray his confidence.

He wasn't sure why he should be uncomfortable; it had been a simple request for information regarding Kurt's father's whereabouts and contact details, but Seth's silent acquiescence without so much as a tut or raised eyebrow had unnerved him. He was expecting disapproving looks and challenging retorts at the mention of Kurt's family and Blaine's willingness to provide the Sub with information. He'd at least expected a raised eyebrow or smirk of disgust at his obvious weakness for the young man - but all he'd gotten was a small nod and a hurried exit as if the advisor had been anticipating this all along; had in fact been waiting for it.

And that was fifteen minutes ago and still he'd not returned. Lord Anderson wasn't used to waiting. For anything. And the more he was left with his own thoughts, the more brooding they became. He'd not enquired about Burt Hummel since that first night when he'd made the quick and blunt request that the older man was to be removed from the cells and taken immediately to the private hospital in South Telport in the neighbouring district. Anything that followed had been drawn up in Kurt's contract as part of the terms and conditions, and Blaine had had little more to do with it. Seth had drafted the agreement and Blaine had simply signed what he'd been brought with little more than a cursory glance cast over the document.

When Kurt had mentioned his father again, it had thrown him slightly; he'd forgotten that his Sub, his Kurt had existed before, and that alongside that prior life came outside people and relationships and affections. A part of him had wanted to deny Kurt. The Lord that lurked underneath had almost exercised his power again and stamped out the possibility of a father/son reconciliation. But then he'd looked at Kurt; all soft and pliant and sex-mussed, surrounded by silk sheets and the scent of them both, and he'd not been able to deny him anything. It shocked him how little power he had to deny Kurt.

And now he waited, foot tapping, fingers drumming and glass drained, but waiting still.

Somewhere in the distant corridors of the house, dancing around stacks of books before wafting in ribbons down the marbled halls, Blaine could hear the first strains of music from the piano and smiled to himself. His fingers stilled, the drumming turning to softly caressed circles painted into the wood as he allowed his Sub to sooth him from another part of the building. His eyes closed at the memory of his own face buried into the downy soft hair at the back of Kurt's neck as they lay together that early morning and watched the sun rise slowly beyond the mountains. They hadn't drawn the curtains the night before; the hours had merged into a strange rhythm of sighs and whimpers interspersed with moments of lucid conversation and shared slumber. It had been a night of reconciliation which had bled into a morning of giggling and childish banter and tickling fights that ended in hard kisses and heated flesh once again.

The door suddenly banged open and Seth's angular form filled the frame.

****

Kurt had drifted off into a strange sort of suspended state; that afternoon he'd allowed the music to finally carry him off into his memories and surrendered himself to the warmth of his family home and his father's arms. The soft strains of Beethoven's ‘Moonlight Sonata' transported him away from the austere, brooding mansion; away from the dusty tomes and back into the soft cocoon of his tiny music room back home. He'd not let himself think of any of it since the first night when he'd cried himself to sleep on the plush silken cushions that had felt like they were suffocating him. It had been too painful and he had almost surprised himself with how easily he'd managed to close himself off from that part of him. It was as if the moment he'd stepped into the black leather of the costume he'd been forced to wear, the Kurt Hummel he had formerly been ceased to exist.

But now it was different. Though he still knew his father would never approve, and while he still felt his stomach turn with the fear of Burt's so obvious disgust at what he'd become, he couldn't stop himself from asking for this one thing from Blaine. His father was everything to him, all that the young man had ever really had as a constant, and the thought of being able to touch him ... to hold him and smell the grease on his coveralls one more time was enough to send Kurt spiralling back into the past and to the memories he'd managed to lock away for the past few weeks.

"Sweetheart, you're trying too hard. The playing should come from here ..." She touched his heart, "... and should carry all the way down to here." She stroked along his fingers slumped unhappily in his lap and lifted them up, placing them back on the piano keys with unfaltering patience.

"It's no good. I suck!"  

She smiled at him softly and bent to kiss his forehead, brushing back the bangs that flopped continuously in front of his eyes and which he'd recently taken to stroking to the side every time he was nervous. "Baby, you will never suck at this. This music is in your veins. You already have it right inside you, like the blood in your heart and breath in your lungs. You've got this." She nudged him slightly with her shoulder, bumping them together and making him sigh in resignation. He never wanted to disappoint her, but he knew that not playing would be far worse than playing badly.

"I just can't do it all together ... only in little sections, and then I forget the rest and mess up." His head hung lower and he worried at his hair again before wiping his palms against his trousers and wincing in disgust when he realised what he'd just done. "Ugh! I'm just not cut out for this. Maybe I'm more like Dad than you think. Maybe I should go fix cars with him instead."

"Don't you dare, kiddo!" his father's voice muttered gruffly from the other room before his stern face appeared in the doorway, his inimitable bulk filling the frame. "I love you helping me out, but I think we both know you are not going to be a grease monkey like your Dad. I'm counting on you to make us our fortune when me and your Ma want to retire and escape to our mountain retreat. That's gonna cost, you know, and I'll be sending you out to pay for it all. Got to get something out of this ‘having kids' business."

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed with a mock serious expression on his face as if he was calculating all of the costs their future life was going to bring, ticking off on his fingers the hours Kurt was going to have to work playing the piano to pay for it all, while his son's eyes grew ever wide in horror. He looked up at his mother, her lips drawn tight to stop her dissolving into laughter at his shocked little face, scrunched up in concern.

"I'll never be able to play well enough to afford all of that!" he exclaimed, the resignation so heavy in his voice that she took pity on him, scooping him up in her arms and squeezing him against her chest. He breathed in the rosehip lotion she always wore and felt himself settle back, curling into the soft skin.

"Don't you worry baby, he's just messing with you." Her eyes flicked up and caught Burt's and they smiled gently at one another, warmth seeping into the room and wrapping around them all. "Your Dad's just jealous because he could never play like you can."

"That's right, buddy." Burt moved closer and sat on the other side of the piano stool, sandwiching the small body of his son between the two of them and feeling the muscles in his frail little back relax as Kurt moved back into place. Whenever they went anywhere outside, whenever they walked along the pavements or journeyed out into the crumbling town, Burt and Elizabeth would always walk on either side of their son, cocooning him in the centre as if protecting him in their own bubble. Loved. Secure. A wall on both sides.

He felt himself relax, the heat of both his parent's bodies warming his skin, and took a deep breath, fixing his eyes determinedly on the sheet music in front of him, scanning the inky black lines dancing across the page and finally allowing them to seep under his skin. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the notes, let his fingers flutter against the keys but not pressing down, his lips moving in rapid whispered chords and sharps.

"From the heart, kid." His father whispered against his ear.

Eyes still closed, Kurt pushed down hard into the first key and felt the music flow from his fingers.

His eyes had filled with tears at the force of the memory, and his chest ached a little with the pressing need to feel the strength of that body beside him. When his mother had died, the safety of that bubble - the cocoon - had collapsed and the wall was no longer impenetrable. They'd tried to keep themselves pressed together and for a time it had worked, but Kurt had grown older and years had spooled away from them, and with no pressing bulk on the other side of him Kurt hadn't been able to protect himself.

He needed to make things right. He needed to talk to him. He needed to show him what he was now but show him that it could be good, that he could be better. He just needed to see him - even if he looked at him in disgust at what he'd become, Kurt needed to feel small again. He needed his father.

*****

Blaine steeled himself against the doorframe and let his eyes flutter closed. His fist clenched; the knuckles blanched white against the mahogany wood of the door as he thumped silently against it. Pressing his forehead into the smooth varnish and feeling his throat constrict painfully, he breathed in deeply before pushing into the library.

Kurt's back was hunched over the piano, no longer playing but head bowed over the keys in silent contemplation. He spun around at the sound of the Lord entering the room and smiled widely, his whole face brightening at the sight of Blaine and his slightly dishevelled appearance.

"Blaine, sit down - I want to play for you. It's something I've not played since I was a little boy and for some reason it came back to me today, and I want you to hear it. My mother used to play it for me and it was the first ..." He trailed off from his enthusiastic rambling as he took in Blaine's crushed face. "Blaine - what is it?"

"Kurt ..."

"What? Blaine, what's wrong? Did Seth do something?" His voice was hesitant, a sickening feeling somersaulting in his stomach as his Lord's eyes failed to meet his own. "Tell me!" He demanded, more forcefully this time as something twisted again in his gut.

Blaine stood in the doorway, unable to bring himself to move closer, his legs unsteady and frozen to the spot as if he was too much of a coward to actually go to his Sub. His arms hung limply at his side as he raised his eyes to latch on to Kurt's pale and quivering face, his lips bloodless and pressed tight in fear.

"It's my father, isn't it?"

He tried to speak but his voice caught in his mouth, his tongue feeling swollen and clumsy. His eyes filled with tears as he watched Kurt crumble in front of him, his face literally cracking as tears spilled silently down his cheeks at Blaine's silent confirmation. 

"Is he dead?" Kurt's voice was tiny, a whispered breath that was choked out into the room but felt like a punch to the Lord's own chest. He couldn't answer, but shook his head quickly in an ineffectual attempt to ease the pain.

"No. No, Kurt - he ... he's not ..." Blaine swallowed and tried again, taking a deep breath and forcing himself back together for the sake of the terrified man in front of him. "He's not dead, Kurt - but ... but he's sick. He's very sick."

A broken sob was strangled from the other man's throat at Blaine's words and he leapt off the stool, his eyes wild. "I have to go to him. I have to see him. Where is he? What have you done with him? Where did you take him, Blaine?" He was shouting now, his voice aggressive and high pitched, spat out between gasps of pain. "You did this." He growled. "You put him here. You took me away from him and you locked him up and I told you he was sick and you didn't listen. You promised me he'd be safe. You said you'd look after him if I signed your fucking stupid deal. You promised you would take care of him ... you promised!"

The words spewed out of him into the darkening room and Blaine could do nothing except take them, let each one slap him in the face in an attempt to absorb all of Kurt's pain and fear. Kurt was sobbing openly now, searching frantically around the room as if trying to look for an escape route but finding none; instead he simply collapsed against the sofa, his body crumpled and utterly dejected as the last of his bile left him. With no more words or fight, he simply cried, letting the sobs take over as he curled up into a tiny ball and wrapped his arms around himself.

Blaine swept forward without thinking and dragged the body of his Sub into his arms. Kurt didn't struggle; the energy for battle was long gone and instead he clawed further into the warmth of his Lord's arms. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry. He was supposed to be protected. I told them to give him the best treatment - I ... I ordered it. The hospital, the care - I told Seth ..."

He had no more explanations. His own involvement in the plans for Burt had been minimal and he knew it. He'd thought of little but getting Kurt - of owning Kurt - and the rest had been shunted over to Seth. His teeth gritted as his mind wandered to his advisor's cold and unfeeling face as he reported the news that Burt Hummel was at the hospital but was in a critical condition and was unlikely to survive the week.

"You might as well tell you little Sub that his father's dead and be done with it."

Blaine stroked Kurt's damp hair and felt his own eyes fill with tears at the anguished shaking of the body beneath him.

He thought about Seth's words. It would have been easier to tell Kurt that Burt had died. That there was nothing they could have done. It would have been easier to let him grieve and turn to Lord Anderson for support. It would have been easier to let Kurt think he had nothing left to lose and totally embrace the mansion and Blaine as his final home ... and he'd almost done it. But then he'd looked into his pale and pleading eyes; had watched the only hope he'd ever seen seep out of the beautiful man before him and be swallowed up by the walls of the oppressive prison they lived in ... and shook his head. He'd told him Burt was still alive even though he knew what that would mean. He felt something dragging at his heart and struggled to breathe at the realisation of what his words had done.

Kissing his lips to the back of Kurt's neck, bent over in his lap and buried against his chest, he felt the words before he said them. They tasted acidic and poisonous in his mouth, but as he spoke them they became sweet too.

"You must go to him."

Pale blue eyes rose to his, watery but crystal clear. Kurt tried to speak but Blaine stopped him. "Go. Go to him, Kurt. He's your father."

"But ..."

Blaine held his finger gently to Kurt's lips to silence him and shook his head slightly. He was crying now and Kurt's eyes were wide with confusion and something else that Blaine didn't understand. He held his Sub's face between his palms, his thumb stroking circles against his cheek and his fingers gripping tightly as the realisation of what he was about to do settled over his heart.

"Go to him, Kurt. I - I release you. You're free, Kurt. You're ..." His eyes dropped to his lap as his voice left him momentarily. "I release you." He repeated brokenly, with no other way of saying it.

Kurt paused, frozen for the tiniest fraction of seconds as Blaine's words sank under his skin. He didn't speak, simply reached up and held his face between his fingers and pressed his lips gently against the Lord's. They lingered for a moment, tasting salt and shared pain, and Blaine closed his eyes at the touch, feeling something shatter inside of him.

... And then the pressure was gone and all that was left was a cold empty space and a hollow library, and Lord Anderson's heart bleeding out on to the marbled floor.