The first thing Kurt noticed when Blaine entered their chambers was how stunning he always looked in red. He was wearing a crimson tunic that Kurt had hand-made, lovingly stitching it with Blaine’s body very distractingly in mind.

The second thing he noticed was that Blaine’s eyes were dangerously narrowed, his jaw clenched tight, his lips lightly pursed.

“Blaine, what’s wrong?”

Blaine looked over at him by the fireplace, where he had been casually reading a book of tales Blaine had given him. The Prince sighed heavily, shaking his head in an angry manner Kurt had forgotten he was capable of. He sat down and removed his heavy boots wearily.

“I apologize for my foul temper,” he all but spat. “I am…deeply vexed.”

“I can tell,” Kurt replied, raising his eyebrows and trying for a little humor, but Blaine just continued shaking his head, obviously distressed by something. Kurt laid aside his book and went to his lover, carefully guiding him to the bed. He sat himself back against the heavy wooden headboard and pulled Blaine down and back against him, settling Blaine between his legs with his back cradled against his own chest. He immediately kneaded Blaine’s shoulders in his strong hands, noting how tense they were.

Blaine exhaled in a long, low moan and melted back against Kurt, the angry tension seeping from his body as Kurt massaged his tired muscles. “That feels heavenly.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

Blaine tensed again for a minute before slumping, reaching up across his own chest to grab Kurt’s left hand with his right, turning his head into their clasped fingers. “I am sorely tempted to remove the eyes of the man we hired to supply the trade ships to Rhodes.”

“Why, what has he done?” Kurt asked, remembering the rather obnoxious little man from Blaine’s meeting with the man that morning. Kurt had scurried out of the room as soon as possible, not at all interested in what a ship needed to sail and wishing to trim the roses before hips started coming in.

“He was…commenting. On your garb.”

Kurt looked down at himself. He was wearing a simple doublet of dappled, pale green wool, woven with red, and simple black hose. He knew not everyone would appreciate the uneven tones of the wool of the doublet, or the clash of the red against it, but he had thought it was eye catching and liked it.

“Well, his opinion on my sartorial choices aren’t exactly expert, he’s just—“

“He wasn’t criticizing you,” Blaine snapped, immediately rubbing Kurt’s hand in apology. “Rather the opposite.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked carefully, wary of the anger in Blaine’s voice and well remembering his temper.

“He…he complimented the way your hose fit.”

“He what?”

“I wish I could say this in jest,” Blaine said, “but he commented to me on the shapeliness of your bottom.”

Kurt snorted with laughter, immediately amused at the absurdity of a peasant worker commenting to a Prince about his minstrel’s ass.

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Blaine spat bitterly, grimacing.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said, trying to sound sincere but utterly failing as he giggled. “I can’t believe he was talking about that to royalty!”

“That’s not even the worst of it! He expressed envy of our closeness! I don’t think he realized the extent of our relationship, but he noted that he wished he could have the privilege of staring upon you all day. He asked if you were amenable to admirers.”

Kurt was about to reply that the man would be wasting words on his own indifference, but he paused when the tone of Blaine’s bitterness finally made sense to him, an unexpected crackle of excitement jolting down his spine. He slipped out from behind Blaine, leaving him half-sitting against the pillow, and turned to face him, straddling him smoothly. Blaine automatically rested his hands on Kurt’s thighs, while he laid his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and leaned in, rubbing their noses together sweetly, resisting the temptation to violently crash their mouths together.

“My love, are you jealous?”

“No, I—“ Blaine paused, staring at Kurt with sudden suspicion. Kurt simply gazed back, very much aware of how flushed he was with the arousal coursing through him. “Yes,” he amended. “I am burning with it.”

Kurt couldn’t help himself; he writhed against Blaine, rocking his hips down and most certainly revealing the proof of his excitement that was currently straining against the front of his hose, which were doing nothing to conceal it in any case. Blaine’s eyes widened, his fingers digging into Kurt’s thighs where they flexed around his hips.

“Are you enjoying my jealousy?” he asked incredulously, his voice deepening.

Kurt groaned, hands deftly unbuckling the belt around Blaine’s waist, dropping it carelessly off the edge of the bed once he slid it out from underneath Blaine’s body.

“Can you very much blame me for enjoying your possessiveness?” Kurt replied frankly, the effect a little cushioned by how breathy he sounded, feeling scarcely able to draw air into his lungs. “It makes me feel very much like I am yours.”

“You are mine,” Blaine said as soon as Kurt had finished tugging his tunic over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up. He immediately joined Kurt in a frantic, clumsy rush to remove all clothing from their bodies without separating. “But if this is your reaction to the affirmation of it, then I absolve you of all blame.”

After another breathless moment, and with a final awkward rustle, Kurt settled back over Blaine, both of them naked, their cocks brushing as Kurt settled himself on Blaine’s lap.

“Would the blame return if my enjoyment continued?”

Kurt blushed under Blaine’s heated, intent gaze, ducking to kiss him everywhere but his mouth, lips brushing against sensitive scars over Blaine’s neck and face. Blaine gasped, grasping tightly to Kurt, thumbs digging into the crease where his thighs met his hips, fingers creeping steadily closer to the object of the ship man’s admiration.

“It is truly pleasurable for you?”

Kurt nodded with a certain level of embarrassment at his own level of enjoyment, feeling as stimulated as if he’d been teased all day, drops of precome leaking onto Blaine’s stomach from above. Blaine’s hips rose against his own, and they began rocking together, finding a familiar rhythm with the ease of much practice.

“Then,” Blaine said, in between sucking hard at the pulse under Kurt’s jaw, “did I ever tell you that I once supposed you and Sebastian to be lovers?”

Kurt shook his head, unsure of the direction the talk was taking.

“Shh, my love,” Blaine whispered, running his hands up and down Kurt’s back soothingly. “You disabused me of that notion quickly, if I recall. But the night you discovered my portrait, while you were snooping where you didn’t belong—“ (Kurt smiled at the easy humor in Blaine’s voice, pleased that a dark moment in their history could be made light of) “—I was in my study, seething over a reference you made to him, because I was under the impression that you were a jilted lover.”

“Is that so?” Kurt asked, urging Blaine on.

“It is,” Blaine replied, hands finally resting down on Kurt’s ass, pulling him down into a faster pace, biting the spot he’d been sucking before quickly laving it with his tongue in silent apology. “I could not stop imagining you with him. I wanted you so badly, even though I’d never shown myself to you—you were all I could think about, your body, your voice, how you would move and cry out—“

“Gods, Blaine—“

“—and I was desperate to know if you’d ever done those things with him, if you’d allowed him to see you like this, falling apart from his mouth and his hands and his cock—“

“Did I ever tell you?” Kurt asked suddenly, gasping for breath. “What he said when he admitted why he summoned me? He told me exactly what he wanted to do to me.”

Blaine shook his head, hands scrabbling at Kurt’s skin, losing his grip on the sweat that was slowly slicking between them. He had never been seized with such a powerful desire to mark Kurt, to leave bruises on his hips and bites across his neck. But before he could act on these desires, Kurt tilted his head and bit down on Blaine’s ear, sucking at the lobe before breathing hotly against him.

“He told me that he wanted to have supper with me,” Kurt whispered, mouth brushing his ear, “and then fuck me over the table—“

Blaine keened, making to flip Kurt over, but Kurt grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, pressing them into the ornate wood of the headboard.

“Do not move your hands,” he ordered, slipping off the bed and returning within moments, the little glass vial of rose oil held in his long fingers. He smiled at Blaine, panting, sweaty, and flushed, laid out on the bed, his arms dutifully held above his head, cock straining up toward his stomach. Everything about the picture was beautiful to Kurt.

He slowly climbed back over Blaine, kneeling on either side of his thighs but not settling down like before. He held himself up as he unstoppered the vial, coating his fingers with the slick, fragrant oil.

“Oh, gods, Kurt—“

“Keep your hands up there,” Kurt commanded, and Blaine immediately lifted them back up from where they were dropping to grab Kurt again, fingers clasping around the swirls of carved wood, “or I shall tie them there.”

Blaine gasped, hips bucking up, seeking friction. Kurt lifted a little, denying him the contact as he brought his own hand behind him and began to open himself for Blaine.

He spent very little time on the task, eager to take Blaine into him. Within just a few minutes he removed his fingers, wiping their excess over the length of Blaine’s cock, the length left shiny with the oil. And with that, he shifted up, holding it steady until the head was within him, releasing it to push down on his own thighs as he took the considerable size of Blaine within him, sinking down inch by inch.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” Blaine was babbling, hands clenching and unclenching around the wood, obviously struggling to keep them up. His hips were held still, and very tense.

“Look at me,” Kurt said, holding himself upright, head tilted back to reveal the long, pale line of his neck. Blaine forced his eyes completely open and took Kurt in where he was halfway seated down his cock. He was beautiful, shining with sweat, muscles taut beneath smooth skin, the shape of him long and lean andmasculine—

“Would you have still wanted me if he had?” Kurt asked, sinking another careful inch. “Would you still have wanted me if he had had me, if he had touched me and seen me bare and open before him, if he had known what I felt like inside—“

Blaine growled, suddenly clutching Kurt’s hips, and the world spun as he flipped Kurt over, immediately pushing his thighs up so that knees rested on shoulders, nearly bending him in half as he leant over Kurt and, with one long thrust, burying himself completely. Kurt cried out, loud and rough.

“You’re mine,” Blaine snarled, pressing his hands into the mattress near Kurt’s shoulders and immediately setting a punishing pace, balls slapping heavily against Kurt’s skin, the sound twining obscenely with the sound of Kurt’s steadily rising cries. “I’m the one that gets to see you this way. Only me.”

“Yes, only you, please, Blaine,” Kurt begged, eyes clenched shut. Blaine shifted back and up, spreading Kurt’s legs to the side, and, on his next thrust, struck his goal, and Kurt’s eyes flew open, his hands clawing at Blaine’s back. “Oh, fuck, right there, Blaine, please touch me, so close, please—“

“Who do you belong to, Kurt?”

“You, please, Blaine, you—“

“And has anyone else done this to you?”

“No, no, of course not, just you—“

“And will you ever give this to another?”

“Never, never anyone else, gods, Blaine, please!”

Blaine reached down and grasped Kurt’s cock, and within two strokes he shattered, his cries incoherent, come shooting spectacularly up onto his own stomach and chest. Blaine caressed him through it before releasing him, clutching at his shoulders as he leaned down and desperately chased his own climax.

“I love you,” Kurt gasped, unable to catch his breath as Blaine continued to pound into him. His hands drifted up to Blaine’s face, softly and lovingly tracing his scars. “I love you so much, Blaine.”

“Gods, fuck!” Blaine shouted, his whole body tensing as he finally came, spilling deep into Kurt, his hips stuttering gradually to a halt. When the last of the shocks died down he sank into Kurt’s arms, kissing him for the first time that night, sweet and tender.

“I love you, too,” Blaine whispered, smiling as Kurt kissed over his face, just like he always did after they’d made love. He carefully slipped from Kurt’s body, rolling to his side and gathering Kurt into his arms, ignoring the mess of sweat and come and the stifling heat of their bodies as he pressed them together, kissing Kurt lazily as their heart rates slowed and steadied.

“As wonderful as this was,” Kurt said suddenly, smirking into Blaine’s neck, “I don’t think I could handle it every night.”

Blaine grinned.

“Dismiss the ship man?”

“Dismiss the ship man.”