They had gone out too far and hadn't been paying attention to the sun. Kurt rushed behind Carole, who was leading the way back home for them both, a heavy basket of herbs and roots being carried by each of them. Generally, they wouldn't have been out for so long but they had found an untouched meadow full of supplies that Carole was low on for her alchemy, and that practice of hers helped ensure that their home could last through the winters. The farm just wasn't profitable enough on its own.

Not that it would matter if they lost their way home and were eaten by one of the massive bears that roamed these parts.

“Ah! I see the torches off in the distance!” Carole said, turning her head to offer Kurt a grin he could only see by the glint of teeth in the twilight.

His panic reduced, Kurt let his heart slow down. They also slowed their gait, legs burning from the excursion. It had been a long time since Carole had brought Kurt out on a herb gathering, but there had been a plethora of births and deaths in the county and she had almost used up all her midwifery potions and blessing concoctions. Carole was the closest thing the lands around had to a healer or shaman, so she had been called on regularly.  

“I hear the king has taken ill,” Carole noted to Kurt as they walked along one another as the moon grew up over them.

“Mmm…” was the noncommittal response she earned from Kurt. He never could understand why people seemed so concerned over the nobility. They had never met them, and it wasn't like the king, queen, or their brethren gave them the time of day in return.  

“Might mean a new crowning if he doesn't heal up. Haven't seen one of those since I was a girl.”

Kurt glanced to the side as Carole blathered on, seeing a flicker of movement in the brush to their side before attributing it to the wind. “Did you go to the capital to watch the crowning?”

“Indeed I did!” Carole perked up, and Kurt had already known that would be the answer. She had told them the story no less than five times in the years since his dad had married her. Carole had lived in the big city as a child before her first husband decided to try his hand at farming and moved them out to the fields. Here, there was great distances between homes, and the only time Kurt ever saw anyone else was on Sundays when everyone gathered at the church, which took them a couple hours by horse to get to.  

“It was beautiful. Flowers everywhere - red lilies, the flower of the crown. The air was so wonderfully fragrant. There was dancing and everyone was wearing smiles. The party went on for days...”

There was a crack behind them, and not something Kurt could disregard as the wind this time. Both he and Carole turned on their heels, gasped, and turned back to run.

Dreadwolves were not something to be messed with, especially when they were bearing their fangs and only a few paces behind you.

The farmhouse was in sight, close enough that Carole was able to call out ahead and warn Burt and Finn that there was a “Dreadwolf!” and that they should “Open the door!” Clearly awaiting their return, the door swung open almost instantly, and Burt landed a step outside of it, his eyes going wide at the chase revealed to him. From where Kurt was, he could see Burt yelling into the house, Finn appearing a moment later with a pitchfork in hand.

The flowers they had gathered for teas lost their petals in the rush to the sanctuary that door offered, and Kurt's heart was beating so hard it felt like it might push its way out of his chest. They were close though. So close to safety. For a moment, Kurt felt like he was nearing the finish line on a sack potato race, almost there and embracing his moment of victory, when an upturned rock caught his toe and landed him into the dirt, paint radiating up from his chin and into his skull as it hit the ground. The basket was emptied beside him, and as he struggled to stand back up, he felt the breath of the wolf over him before he heard the growl of warning being cast to his family.

The wolf had claimed its prey.

Kurt still tried to break free, turning onto his back just in time for the massive beast to set a paw on his chest and pin him down with its weight. He could hear his family crying out, but couldn't make out their words, transfixed by the black creature that may have well been the grim reaper.

Then, a yelp, and the humongous wolf was off him, snarling at a new target. Kurt stood, wincing at the pain shooting through his ankle as he hobbled towards the house where Finn stood up in front of him, still holding the pitchfork out at the night where Kurt was now safe enough to be able to look back at where he had fallen.

There, in the night, a man had a sword drawn. He and the wolf circled one another, each one eyeing up the other appraisingly. It was hard to make out who the man might be, but given the thick padded armor he wore and the quality make of the sword, Kurt was willing to bet he wasn't someone he could say he knew. Kurt knew no one beyond farmers.

The circling continued for a moment longer before the wolf lost its patience and launched forward, and there was a blur of combined movement before everything stopped again long enough for Kurt to see the outcome. The wolf's jaws were clamped down on the man's leg, and the man's sword was cut down into the collar of the wolf and coming out the side of the creature.

The man might have lost his leg, but the wolf had lost its life.

Burt fussed over his son for a moment before having him follow Carole into the house to tend to Kurt's ankle and chin, which he hadn't noticed was bleeding until Finn pointed it out. Finn and Burt meanwhile went to see about the wolf and the man, something Kurt couldn't believe he was missing out on.

~*~*~*~

Kurt groaned, reaching a hand up to his head as if cradling it might alleviate the headache. The memories of the night past slammed into his head and he looked up, glancing around at the small farmhouse and seeing Carole already bent over the cauldron over the fireplace from where he had fallen asleep in their only chair.

“You drugged me!” Kurt exclaimed, wagging a finger her way even though any effort seemed to make his body ache terribly.

“You were in pain. The best way to overcome injury is time,” Carole stated matter-of-factly before drawing up a ladle of the tea she was brewing and pouring it into a mug. “How do you feel now?”

“Like shit,” Kurt admitted, earning himself a click of her tongue. “Sorry.”

“Your dad is already out in the field. Said you should take it easy today.”

“What happened last night? Where's the man that killed the wolf? Is he dead?”

Carole's lips pursed, as if she were inwardly debating what to tell Kurt, before holding the mug out to him. “Drink.”

“Is this going to knock me out too?”

Carole shook her head. “Will help with the swelling and headache. How's your ankle?”

He looked down at it, bandaged up. Kurt turned it from side to side, and while it was sore, it wasn't crippling. “Fine.”

“Good. Then you can take a mug of this to the man in the barn.”

Another mug was filled as Kurt stood up, favouring his good ankle as he hobbled out the door with a drink in each hand. He was eager to find out who the stranger was, what had happened, and why his family had decided to put him in the barn.  

Finn was seated on the milking bench in the barn, staring at one of the horse stall that had an open door to him, and holding that same pitchfork out. It make Kurt quirk up an eyebrow in curiosity, but as he shuffled forward he saw the form of the man from the night before laying back in a pile of fresh hay. His leg was bandaged up, and his armor had been removed, replaced with plain cotton clothes Kurt recognized as a set of his own - a set that the man swam in.  

The night before he had looked so much larger.

“Has he woken up?”

Finn shook his head, standing up and pointing to the bench where Kurt sat, glad to be off his feet, and sipped his own tea. “Why'd you guys put him in the barn?”

“Dad said to.”

“Why?” Kurt queried. “Why are you standing guard for that matter?”

“He's not from around here. He had armor on and a good sword. He might be an outlaw… or a mercenary… or something else dangerous.”

Kurt tsked at the idea. “He saved me, Finn. Surely we can afford him more hospitality.”

“I trust dad. So should you.”  

A roll of his eyes made Kurt wince, his head still too jarred for the motion. “What happened to the wolf?”

“Dad gutted and skinned him last night. Too much good meat to not use. Mom took some of the innards for her potions, and I've got the pelt tanning out in the onion patch.”  

Kurt wrinkled up his nose. He didn't need that much information, though he was glad to know the wolf was truly not a threat anymore. “And his leg?”

“Had to cut off his trousers. The bites went right in. Mom was able to save his leg, but the bones and skin will need time to heal up.”

“And in that time we're keeping him prisoner? What's he going to do to us?”

Finn shrugged. “Don't know… but can't take a chance on family. When he's conscious, dad'll decide whether or not to send for a guard.”

“Maybe he IS a guard,” Kurt huffed, finishing off the tea after he made the assertion.

“Maybe… that's why we're waiting until he's awake.”

They sat and stood in silence a while longer, Finn shifting on his feet and yawning before Kurt looked back to his brother by marriage and grunted, “Why don't you go do some work or take a nap.”

“Supposed to guard…”

“Give me the damned pitchfork then. I'll watch him.”

It took a bit more grumbling, but Finn finally relented and once he was out of the barn, Kurt stuck the pitchfork into the earth at his side. It might be taking a chance, but Kurt didn't feel like someone who had gotten their leg bitten up saving him was going to turn on him.

At first he revelled in the silence and the nothingness of his task. The man was asleep and Kurt had rarely had time to just sit around since he had become of age to be useful around the farm.  Every waking moment was spent taking care of animals, hoeing, planting, harvesting, collecting materials, and fixing fences.  

After a time though, he became curious. The mugs were set to the side and he crept up on the sleeping man, kneeling close enough to him to study his face.

It was clear right away that the man was not of the region. His complexion was much more bronze than was typical of the people Kurt knew, and not from the sun. Dark hair coiled on top of his head - and both curls and such dark hair were also not seen naturally of those Kurt saw at Church. What was more was that the man was clean shaven, not like Kurt who barely seemed to grow hair on his chin, but done deliberately, and evenly. All the men Kurt knew had beards, though he was told his would come in later - like his father's had.  

A small whine fell from the lips of the man's rosy lips, making Kurt jerk back in surprise before creeping back closer. The man had such long dark lashes, such that Kurt had only seen on some of the ladies he knew, the ones that Finn lusted over and he did not see the appeal of.

“Are you going to keep staring?”

Kurt's heart shot up his throat and this time, when he stumbled back, he stayed in place. He thought the man had been asleep and had clearly made a fool of himself. “S-sorry.”

Kurt watched as the man brought a hand to his head and used the other to push himself up to sit, groaning with the effort. Looking down at his wounded leg with a frown, the man tried to move and grimaced as he made the attempt.

“Your leg is pretty bad, I'm told,” Kurt said quietly, mentally sizing up the man and realizing with surprise that he was smaller than Kurt was.

“I can feel that,” the soft, satin voice spoke again. “But you're clearly alright.”

Kurt nodded, casting his eyes to the side as the man looked at him. “Yes. Thank you for saving me.”

“Where am I?”

Kurt was standing up, going to retrieve the mug of now cool tea when the question was uttered. “My family's barn.”

“I can see that… smell that…” the man admitted with no shortage of disgust in his tone. “I meant what area?”

Kurt cocked his head to the side in confusion as he handed the mug to the man, who didn't even question it as he greedily drank it up. “South of Pine River.”

“Huh. Didn't realize I was so far out east.”

Kurt knelt back down at the edge of the bed of hay. “Where are you from?”

“West.”

Kurt frowned, a look not missed by the man who was looking back to him with more intensity than Kurt was used to.

“Far west.”

“Why are you out here?”

“Taking a vacation.”

Kurt snickered at that. “A vacation? What are you? A nobel?”

That caused the man to perk up one of his dark, caterpillar like eyebrows. “Why? You don't take vacations out here?”

“A vacation is winter, when we have to ration our food stores because we can't grow anything and when we have to stay inside to avoid the ice snakes until we're near mad with the company of one another.”

“Oh… well… vacations happen where I'm from.”  

Kurt studied the man's face for a moment longer until he felt he was sincere. “My name is Kurt.”

“Blaine.”

“Thank you for saving me.”

“You already said that.”

“But you didn't say you're welcome - or do they not believe in courtesy out west?”

Blaine laughed loudly at that, such that the noise surprised Kurt and his eyes became wide.  

“You're welcome then. My apologies.”

“So… what now then?” Blaine asked as he contained his laughter and his smile, a smile that made Kurt's heart flutter such that he had to question what was wrong with himself inwardly.

“My dad'll be back from the fields at sundown and then he'll decide if he's going to send a guard for you.”

Kurt wasn't worldly, but he could tell when someone was afraid, and the way the color drained from Blaine's face when he spoke about sending for the guard told Kurt that it was the last thing that Blaine wanted. “Are you an outlaw?”

Blaine quickly shook his head, curls bouncing around him. “No… no... but… I can't have a guard come for me.”

“Why?”

“I can't say.”

“That's not going to be good enough for my dad.”

“Please…” Blaine glanced around, looking like he was trying to find an escape route despite his leg being in no condition for him to run. “I can't… you can't…”

“It isn't up to me.”

“Please speak to your dad then… tell him-”

“My dad makes the decision,” Kurt plainly asserted.

“I can't be taken in by a guard…”

Kurt frowned, and then, against his better judgement, came up with an instantaneous solution. “Say you're a hunter.”

“Huh?”

“A hunter. You were out to collect a bounty on the dreadwolf. That would explain the armor and the sword and there wouldn't be any need to call for a guard.”

The color returned to Blaine's face, and Kurt watched as his amber eyes danced with yellow flecks as he looked appreciatively Kurt's way. “You would have me lie to your father?”

“You saved me,” Kurt again noted. “If it means that much to you, I'll make sure you're safe from whatever worries you.”

~*~*~*~

Burt bought the story, though insisted that Blaine stay in the barn due to the limited living space in the house - though Kurt was sure it was because Burt still didn't trust Blaine. Regardless, it meant Blaine was able to stay while he healed, and during that time Kurt was unofficially designated as Blaine's caretaker. Finn and Burt tended the fields, Carole went to collect herbs and tend to those that called upon her, and Kurt took care of the animals and Blaine.

Blaine, who was something of an animal himself.

“I am not your laundress,” Kurt snapped at him a couple mornings after he'd arrived, the novelty of someone new being around having worn off as he tossed cleaned clothing at Blaine. “Stop pissing in your clothing.”

Blaine smirked and proceeded to pull his shirt off in front of Kurt, giving Kurt enough time to move away before the pants followed. “I can barely move - what do you expect me to do?”

“Roll over and piss to the side. Damn it. Even the pigs don't piss where they eat,” Kurt snarled back, pulling the bench over to a cow he had tied up so he could milk her.

“Kurt… are you shy about seeing a naked body?” Blaine teased over the fencing of the stall he was in.

“No. I just have civility,” Kurt huffed.

“Says the farmboy,” Blaine taunted, causing Kurt to squeeze the udders hard enough to earn a disgruntled moo from the cow. “Do men not undress around one another in the east?”

“Don't get the chance to,” Kurt admitted, though he, his father, and Finn did go bathing together in the lake north of the house.

It was a question he brought up to his father later that evening. “Do men undress around one another?”

The look Burt gave him, it was one of sheer confusion blended with an effort to try and see if there was some underlying meaning to Kurt's words. “When I fought against the uprising to the south, it would happen with soldiers, yes. Wasn't much space or time to look for privacy.”

“Oh... just curious…” Kurt uttered before changing the subject quickly to something more harmless, such as Finn's courting of one of the young women they went to church with.

“You should stay with Blaine during church this week,” Carole noted. Burt nodding in agreement.  

“But…” As much as Kurt didn't care for the long latin chants and the cycle of standing and sitting that occurred in the church, he lived for the socialization that happened afterwards. The spinsters would bring their baked goods, there would be games for the children to play, the adults would gossip, and Kurt would be able to enjoy the sight of everyone in their finery, away from the smell of manure and oats.  

“Don't want to leave him alone and you seem to have a good rapport with the boy,” Burt said, finalizing his decision.

~*~*~*~

“Take him for a bath today if he stinks so badly,” Carole responded to Kurt as she set her favorite hat delicately atop her head, readying herself for church. Everyone else in the house looked so put together, and Kurt… Kurt was still in his usual trousers and tunic.  

“I can't carry him there,” Kurt said stiffly, wishing he hadn't brought up again how much he wanted to go and how much he was tired of smelling the man stuck in the barn.

“Tow him. Take a horse and attach one of the harvest wagons to it,” Burt curtly said, ending the discussion. Now he would expect Blaine to smell better on his return, and Kurt regretted his whining immediately.

Blaine, for his part, did his best to make the travel easy on Kurt, holding onto the stall fencing as he shuffled around the barn. Before they left, Kurt replaced the hay that had served as Blaine's bedding so that Blaine would have a fresh pile to make rotten when they returned. Then he gathered the best herbs he knew of to detoxify the body and led the horse to the lake.

“I'll remove your bandages…” Kurt explained, moving to strip the fabric free of Blaine's leg, as he had each day under Carole's tutelage. Yet this time Blaine peeled off his shirt as he did it, and then pushed down his pants the instant Kurt had taken off the last strip of fabric, causing Kurt to be face to face with Blaine's manhood.

The blush that rose in Kurt's face was nothing he could contain, nor could he stop himself from falling back and away from Blaine, who seemed to smirk with too much amusement at Kurt's reaction. “Problem?”

“You… I…” Kurt sputtered before remembering that Blaine would likely taunt him if he made too much fuss. “No. Get in the lake.”

Blaine dragged himself back and into the water, groaning in such a way that Kurt's stomach stirred up as Blaine sunk into the liquid. “Feels good.”

“Uh huh,” Kurt muttered, trying to rid his mind of the sight of Blaine's nudity that kept showing up behind his eyelids everytime he blinked. He mixed the herbs, adding some flower petals for perfume, and dropped them unceremoniously around Blaine before skulking back to the horse.

“Not joining me?” Blaine asked, looking back to Kurt.

“I'm fine.”

“You know, you don't exactly smell fresh either.”

“How dare you!” Kurt spit, wishing in that moment he hadn't agreed to lie on Blaine's behalf. “I smell perfectly fine.”

“For a farmboy, I guess,” Blaine huffed as he turned his head back again.

That was it. Kurt tossed his clothing off before he could second guess himself and stepped defiantly into the water steps away from Blaine, hopefully before Blaine could see much of his own body.

“Mmm… that's more like it,” Blaine uttered, and Kurt again felt regret for the umpteenth time that day - this time, the type of regret that made his skin completely flush up.

“You have far too much interest in being naked,” Kurt noted, keeping his head turned to the side lest he catch sight of Blaine's hypnotic gaze or his toned chest.

“Would it be more welcome if I was a woman?” Blaine questioned, voice lilting upwards on the last word.

Kurt pursed his lips together tightly. At some point, he would have to see about courting one of the girls he knew. Through Finn he had heard that a couple had their eyes on him, though he never felt any interest in them. In fact, the only time he ever felt the spark that the bards sang about during the harvest festivities was when he first saw Finn - a spark that was quickly snuffed out when he was told Finn would be his new brother, as Burt and Carole were planning to marry.

“What about if I was a better looking man?” was the next question out of Blaine's mouth when he had waited for a while to see if Kurt would answer.

“You look just fine,” Kurt answered, quickly snapping a hand over his mouth and keeping his eyes locked on a rock on the shore. He shouldn't have admitted that. Buggery was not allowed. Kurt didn't know a lot of the latin spoken by the church preacher, but he had picked up on that. It was something he couldn't admit to, not even to himself. Far better to be a wifeless man than be caught lusting after another male.

But, despite the acknowledgement, Blaine didn't hit him or laugh or call him any insult he had heard before directed towards the types of people he couldn't admit he was. Instead, Kurt heard the water shift behind him and hands set on each of his shoulders, strong and sure as they worked into the tensed muscles there. “As do you.”

If there was a maximum setting for blush, Kurt was beyond it. Certainly, he couldn't fathom how to respond to such a compliment, if it really was one, nor did he know how to react - cemented in place as if his body had frozen with Blaine's words. There he stayed, allowing Blaine's hands to touch the spaces between his neck and shoulders in a way that seemed far too intimate for friends. Surely Blaine knew such things were frowned upon?

Maybe that was why he didn't want the guards to catch him. Maybe he was a known sodomist and had escaped death.

Kurt's mind raced with thoughts and worried and pleasure and panic all at once, and it wasn't until he registered a hard bit of flesh hitting him against his lower back that he reacted, jumping away and turning in place. “What are you doing!?”

Blaine, for his part, seemed to be less concerned over his action, face flat with his amber eyes drowned in black. “Giving you a massage. You're always so uptight.”

“What… about that?” Kurt stumbled over his words, pointing down at the water towards Blaine's crotch.

“Has your father not had this talk with you yet Kurt?” Blaine mused, a grin tugging up the corners of his mouth. “You see, when a man is aroused -”

“I know what it means! Why is it reacting to me?!” Kurt fumed through his gritted teeth.

“Putting two and two together, it would mean that you arouse me.”  

Kurt let his jaw hang open. Blaine was so cavalier about how he felt, even when how he felt was wrong. Wrong according to everything that Kurt had grown up to be told. Were things that different where he had come from? Or did he have a death wish?

“Clearly I arouse you too,” Blaine said, still grinning as he winked towards Kurt, who quickly shoved a hand down over his own erection to hide it. He had hoped the water would have obscured it, but Blaine had been able to see through it despite all the things floating around them.

“It's wrong.”

Blaine sighed, turning to reach for a handful of herbs to rub over his chest. “So I've been informed.”

“So why are you even admitting to it?!”

Kurt watched as Blaine scrubbed himself, rubbing the herbs into his hair until they were mush and Blaine's eyes returned to gold. “I'm tired of not being able to do what I want... be who I truly am.”

“It's sin,” Kurt grunted, wincing as he pinched the inside of his thigh in an effort to rid himself of his arousal - though watching Blaine wash himself and rub himself was making it difficult.

“I've been told that too…” Blaine admitted. “It's why I'm on this vacation… a bit of freedom before I'm expected to settle down… and what about you?”

Kurt frowned, first at the thought of Blaine with some woman he'd settle down with, and then again at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Will you force it down inside you, too? Until you hate yourself? Until you don't know if you're real or not?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. Clearly, Blaine had had too much time to consider things that people like Kurt could not focus on. “I'm plenty real. I'll do what's best by my family, and that means not buggering around. I don't want to give them any shame.”

“Hmm… how nice that it's so simple for you,” Blaine sighed before submerging himself for a moment to wash the mush out of his hair, Kurt watching him to ensure he surfaced.

“Don't you have any family?”

“Too much,” Blaine said quietly, leaning back against the edge of the lake again and avoiding Kurt's eyes. “Enough that remind me of all my obligations to them as well.”

“Only you don't seem to care as much for their welfare.”

Blaine shook his head. “No… I guess it seems that way to you anyhow. But, haven't you ever felt like the life you're living isn't the life you're meant to live?”

Put into words, that was exactly how Kurt had felt so much. Like he was existing in a place that was consistently unfamiliar to him even though he knew he knew all the expectations and rules. He was okay with the role he was playing, even though it was only ever that. “I suppose many people feel like that. Doesn't mean we can go against nature.”

“Right… the church says we ought to be with women because we're expected to reproduce - yet I know many couples who haven't been able to have a child, and more still who reproduce enough for the lot of us. Tell me Kurt, do you think you'd be able to make a child with a woman?”

He lifted up his shoulders in a shrug. In truth, Kurt had put those ideas and thoughts to the back of his head because he felt sick with the imagery that came with them.  

“Your father married Carole, yet have they produced any children from their union?”

“No… but…”

“So why marry then? According to the church, it's all about that.”

Kurt sighed. He knew. He had heard the prayers and been to the weddings. “So what would you have me do? Throw myself upon you? Submit to my carnal instincts and be no more than an animal? An animal that would find himself killed for breaking the law?”

There was a glint again in Blaine's eyes, and he looked towards Kurt with that smug smirk he wore far too often. “Would you? Throw yourself upon me?”

“I shouldn't have lied for you.”

“You should lie with me,” Blaine snapped back, far too quickly.  

“I won't. Now finish washing yourself and let's get back to the farm,” Kurt grumbled, getting himself out of the lake, his back towards Blaine as he redressed and trying to calm the way his insides fluttered within him. Later he would have to have a soothing tea and have Carole check him over to see if he was alright.

~*~*~*~

Things continued to get more complicated from that point. Kurt could not deny his growing attraction to his ward, and the way his family insisted on him tending to Blaine only made it difficult for Kurt to be able to avoid dealing with those feelings. It was all compounded by the advances Blaine made on him, which Kurt had an increasingly hard time evading, especially in the absence of contact with anyone else.

“I love the way your fingers graze over my leg,” Blaine would coo as Kurt changed his bandages.

“Blaine,” was all the warning Kurt had to give, his tone as stern as he could make it.  

The thought had crossed his mind to tell his father about Blaine's interests, something that would surely encourage his father to call in the guards, but Kurt couldn't stomach the thought of Blaine being harmed - especially when he was just as guilty for having sinful thoughts.

At first Kurt dealt with it by keeping himself occupied, and sleeping on his stomach so that his cock was pinned below him - unable to stand up at attention without his permission. However, as time wore on, Kurt couldn't help but snake a hand into his trousers at night when he had counted off the snores of all his family members around him. His dreams danced with images of Blaine. Below him, above him, at his side. More and more he excused himself to his slumbering kin in order to escape to the outhouse where he relieved himself with hand-muffled moans.

He was definitely going to hell.

So when he took Blaine for his Sunday bathing, as had become customary, on the fourth week Blaine had been with him, Kurt threw caution to the wind and slipped into the water with Blaine for the first time since his first bath.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Blaine crooned, eyes raking Kurt's body up and down hungrily.

“I needed a bath,” Kurt half lied, absently rubbing off any stickiness that still clung to his belly from masturbating the night before.

“Indeed… do you need any help scrubbing?” Blaine asked, hope in his voice as he slid closer to Kurt, hands once again invading Kurt's space as they drew over his shoulder blades. It sent a shiver down Kurt's spine, and the reaction between his legs was almost instantaneous. Any hope he had of denying who he was was decimated. Between the blush, the tremble that took him over, and the erection - he hadn't a chance of denying his attraction.

Blaine took the silence as permission, and took a handful of creamed soap to rub over Kurt's back. Each brush of his fingers came further down Kurt's back, and each one seemed to sap any modicum of sense out of his head until his mouth let out small moans without his permission.

“Your skin is so soft… so unlike most of the peasants I've met…” Blaine admitted as his fingers glided over Kurt's waist under the water.  

“Uh… it's… an ointment… or a lotion… Carole makes it,” Kurt muttered, having to scavenge through his brain for those few details.  

Those sure fingers continued to travel, sliding down over the tops of Kurt's thighs and then back up where they purposely trailed over Kurt's flushed cock, which twitched in response as Kurt let out a weak mewl. He was done for.

“Am I to take it that you've had a change of heart?” Blaine whispered from behind Kurt, right into his ear before dropping his lips to Kurt's neck, and, oh, why did his neck being kissed make him feel so dizzy?

“You're so handsome…” Blaine murmured into Kurt's skin, setting that skin on fire wherever his lips pressed. “I thought you were some kind of angel in the moonlight that first night I saw you running.”

“Uh…” was the less than eloquent response that Kurt was able to muster. He wanted to take some bit of control, but he found himself again frozen in place, and since Blaine seemed alright taking charge - he would let him.

Blaine's hands continued to travel over Kurt's body, up to his nipples which had perked in arousal, and back down his sides before coming back together around Kurt's erection, which one of Blaine's hands built a fist around, jerking it gently while the free hand lifted back up to encircle a nipple. It was a lot of stimulus all at once, and certainly more than Kurt was used to - having only ever had the occasional hug from his family members, and less so since he had gotten older. One final flash of the church congregation condemning sinners flashed through his mind before the intensity of the touch became too much and Kurt was crying out, tears built into the corners of his eyes, as he came into the water.

His body relaxed back into Blaine's hold, not even caring about how Blaine's own unattended dick was poking into his side while he worked on catching his breath. That was good. Too good. It was true the devil worked through temptations, and Kurt had wholeheartedly fallen for it. He was condemned, and didn't care.

“That was so stunning,” Blaine uttered breathlessly, holding Kurt tightly against him lest Kurt jump away and run.

“I'm going to hell,” Kurt finally vocalized, his voice cracking.

“I'll see you there,” Blaine responded with that silky voice of his, turning Kurt's chin up with his fingers and connecting their lips.

And Kurt was done for.

~*~*~*~

After that, Blaine's advances became less unwelcome and more tender. Kurt allowed himself to be touched and even worked himself up to touching Blaine, letting his fingers get lost in the trails of hair that went from Blaine's chest down his legs as he told Blaine all about his mother, his childhood, and the stories he could share from those that had been shared with him. Blaine did not share nearly as much. There were allusions to a controlling father, and a strict upbringing, and Blaine would get quiet whenever Kurt asked questions of him so Kurt stopped asking questions, if only so that he could hear Blaine's voice as much as possible.

For hours they would lay in the hay bed, eyes and lips so focused on the other's, until Kurt only saw amber in his dreams at night. He would make excuses about Blaine needing help to get to the outhouse at night in order to excuse himself from his family, and was up before anyone else with the excuse that the cows would leak if he didn't milk them right away. His family, so busy with the impending harvest, didn't question him so long as he kept up with his chores.  

Each day Blaine's leg healed up more, and Kurt couldn't help but wish Carole wasn't so skilled in her craft. He didn't know what would happen when Blaine's leg was healed up, and he didn't want to ask in fear of the answer. He had been okay before Blaine had come, okay with his existence, but now that he knew otherwise - Kurt wasn't sure he could go back.

Sundays were sacred though. There was no chance of any family coming back to the barn or the house unannounced, and so Kurt took his time letting his hands and mouth travel over Blaine until he knew exactly how to make Blaine tense and how to make his relax into a puddle. The temptation that the devil had set before him no longer resulted in internal debate and self hatred; rather, Kurt was thankful that he had been tested and failed. Every time he looked into those rich honey eyes, he couldn't imagine a better life.

“I think you're pretty healed up dear,” was Carole's assessment of Blaine's leg as she looked it over, the bandages long gone. “... and you've been walking pretty well on your own too now for a time.”

Blaine nodded, looking down over his leg as Burt returned his padded armor back to him, sword set atop it with trust. “Thank you. I don't know that I can ever truly repay your skill.”

“You saved my boy. Consider it paid in full,” Burt grunted before leaving the barn. He was never much for sentiment.

Carole continued to examine Blaine's leg thoroughly, Kurt standing to the side, and relayed the latest gossip she had acquired at church to the boys as she worked. “... Maddie's due to have a fourth child this spring and barely just gave birth months ago. The Heesely twins were caught in the trader's cart a few days past and their dad is considering sending them to serve with the army… and the king passed away.”

Blaine's eyes went wide at that, and he looked at Carole in disbelief. “The king died?”

“Hmm... yes… I suppose there'll be a new crowning, though I don't know that we'll get to the capital to see it, much as I might like - though tradition calls for a parade through the main villages anyhow, so we might get up to Pine River if we get notice enough.”

Kurt watched, intrigued and impatient, as Blaine's face went through a series of emotions before settling on stoic, quiet again as Carole gave a final nod. “Yes. I think your bones have healed up perfectly.”

“Thank you.”

As she made her exit, Kurt opened his mouth to ask, only to have Blaine's voice beat him.

“Lay with me tonight.”

There was a tightening in Kurt's heart, something he couldn't place, and like he had avoided questions of Blaine's past, he stopped himself from asking Blaine about his response to Carole's words, sure he didn't want to know the answer, nor why Blaine would ask such a thing of him, so sickly in his tone.

“I will.”

An excuse was made to his family, something so hastily done that Kurt wasn't even sure what he had said to convince them of his absence for the night. He did have the presence of mind through to swipe a small bottle of oil from Carole's stock, though wasn't sure if it would be used in the way he thought it might.

Blaine was especially gorgeous under the moonlight that streamed in through the boards on the roof. His body seemed to glow, already stripped down when Kurt joined him and removed his own clothing before laying down alongside the man that had taken over his whole existence.

No words were shared. Blaine's hands caressed their way down Kurt's body, stroking over all the places he had discovered as sensitive, and then taking Kurt's own wandering hands in his own and kissing each one before moving them between his legs.

“I want you inside me,” Blaine explained, eyes locked on Kurt's, watching for his response.

It was a step they hadn't taken, yet as Kurt worked to remove the breath stuck in his throat he nodded, one hand wrapping itself around Blaine's erection while the other slid between the globes of Blaine's ass, rubbing over the wrinkled pucker there before retreating to single-handedly pop open the vial of oil and spread it over his fingers.

“You're brilliant,” Blaine choked as he watched Kurt lubricate his fingers and return his now slick hand to that hole, teasing his fingers over the spot once before sliding in a finger, pausing only to revel in how tight the entryway was before passing into the looser interior. Blaine gasped through it and muted his voice with a palm pressed over his lips.

For Kurt to fit himself, he knew he had to make things more slippery, and so he worked his finger in and out until it seemed like Blaine had relaxed enough for another finger to be added. He listened and watched Blaine's face, waiting for him to tell Kurt to stop, or show some kind of pain, but instead it seemed like the more Kurt worked, the more broken Blaine seemed to become, and it was absolutely intoxicating.

“Please… Kurt…” Blaine finally choked out. “I… won't last…”

Kurt pulled his hand off Blaine's cock, which he had been fisting in time with his fingers diving, and removed said fingers before straddling himself overtop of Blaine and pressing his cock in, past that same tight ring of muscle and into the depths of the man below him who bit down on his own fist to stop himself from crying out.

He had overheard men, after church, talking about how they had ploughed their wives, and how wonderful it felt, but Kurt had never believed that anything more than a hand (and now a mouth) could somehow be better. Yet now he knew. He felt Blaine's body grip around him, felt him take him in hungrily, and felt the heat move up his cock and into his body - seemingly coming from Blaine's insides, the way it flowed.

Kurt moved slowly, carefully, in the beginning, watching Blaine's face change from pained to pleasured - though still biting down on his fist to muffle his cries. Then he sped up, consumed by a carnal need within him, a need to move faster, bury himself deeper, and claim Blaine as his own. Blaine may have covered his mouth, but there was no silencing the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh or the groans and grunts Kurt made as he neared his apex. With a final flash of cognition, Kurt again wrapped his hand around Blaine's length, jerking him to climax before giving himself permission to do the same - which he did, burying himself completely within Blaine and then falling forward on top of him.

They breathed heavily together, ribs hitting against one another with the effort, and Blaine pulled his bite marked hand away from his mouth to wrap around Kurt's shoulders.

“Thank you…”

It was weaker, smaller than the thank you Blaine had afforded to Carole earlier, yet full of so much emotion that Kurt had to peer up to ensure it was really Blaine that had said it.  

“You're welcome.”

~*~*~*~

They fell asleep wound up in one another not long after, and without any more conversation. Kurt periodically shifted, half awake, when the cool air hit his back and sent shivers through his body. Partway through the night, he finally disconnected himself from Blaine in order to get the blanket that had, at some point, been shoved across the stall and bring it back to them.

Except he didn't lay back down and go to sleep with the blanket now in tow. Instead, he looked down at Blaine's body, still glistening in the light of the moon, and sleeping so soundly. He really was gorgeous and there was absolutely no way Kurt could ever deny his desire.  

Kurt knelt down, gently palming over Blaine's cock until it rose on it's own, Blaine moaning softly in his sleep and uttering out a barely whispered “Kurt…” in his dreams. It was enough to encourage Kurt to continue, dropping his mouth down over the length before him and savouring the taste with each suckle until his ministration finally woke Blaine, who looked down at the sight and moaned in appreciation with a more conscious “Kurt…”

What Blaine hadn't seen as he watched Kurt move his head up and down, was how Kurt's hand had slipped behind himself, and had been pushing in fingers dry. Kurt wanted to know how Blaine had felt when he had been filled, and though it burned and ached, it didn't feel like enough. If he was going to do this right, there was only one way to do it.

He popped his mouth off Blaine's cock, who whined in protest, before straddling himself overtop of Blaine like before. This time though, he hovered his ass above Blaine's cock, and before Blaine seemed to be able to fully register what was happening, Kurt slowly lowered himself, grinding down on Blaine's manhood.

It hurt. There was no denying that. Yet gravity and his own stubborn need to equalize things forced Kurt down until he was completely impaled, panting and holding onto Blaine's chest to brace himself. Blaine looked at him, mesmerized and gawking, and within his body Kurt could feel the cock he had absorbed twitch and just barely graze something that seemed to set fire to his insides.

That was what he wanted.

Blaine bent his knees so Kurt could sit back against them as he moved up and then sunk down again, causing both he and Blaine to moan lewdly. His back arched with each lift, making it so that each time he fell down, Blaine's cock hit that sweet spot inside him, causing lightning fractals to flow through him.  

When it got too hard to keep going, Blaine wrapped his hands tightly on Kurt's hips, holding him in place as he jerked his own hips up and down and thrust into Kurt from below, and though he had come only hours earlier, Kurt was soon, without a hand to help, coating his belly with what little spunk he had left within him, crying up at the moon like a wolf - and hoping his family would dismiss it as such.

“Amazing…” was Blaine's assessment as he lifted Kurt gently up and then guided him to lay at his side, pulling the retrieved blanket over them both.  

Kurt smiled weakly at Blaine, wincing at the emptiness in him, and at the cold feeling of his seed on his stomach and Blaine's leaking out of his ass. At some point during his own climax, Blaine must have also come.

Again, Blaine's arms wrapped around Kurt, and this time, Kurt fell asleep and didn't wake for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~

Kurt didn't know why he expected differently. In the morning, Blaine was gone, his clothing and sword along with him. There was no note, nothing that said farewell, nothing to cherish Blaine with aside from a dull ache at the bottom of his spine and fingerprint bruises on his hips.  

Just like that too, life returned to what it was. Kurt played his part as best as he could, though, when everyone else was busy elsewhere, he returned to the mould Blaine had made in the hay, hay that Kurt hadn't changed, and laid there quietly, trying to breath in the scent of the other man and only coming up with the stink of feces and grain.

Finn announced his marriage to a girl named Rachel. Celebrations were held, and Kurt forced himself to smile through it, knowing he would be expected to follow suit next, and knowing he wouldn't be able to. He would be alone forever, and somehow that was preferable to going through a marriage to some farm girl to have farm children and living a farm life alongside them all.  

His dad worried over him, and Kurt had never been very good at hiding things from Burt, so his father knew something was amiss. Kurt skipped too many meals, too queasy to stomach any food, and went to bed too early each night. His dad didn't ask though, and Kurt was grateful for it because he didn't think he could handle lying to Burt anymore than he already had.  

As Carole had anticipated, there was a new crowning, and since the harvest was over by the time the parade through the towns began, the family trekked north to catch a glimpse of the new royalty and participate in the festivities. It was a welcome distraction for Kurt, who saw Blaine in everything he did at home, and despite having to suffer through being on a horse for a day, it almost meant getting a chance to check out real shops and see a play.

It was as close to a vacation as Kurt had ever known, complete with staying at an inn, trying new local foods, and being able to imbibe. He could see the appeal and why Westerners saw the value of a vacation. By the time the buzz of drink wore off, the parade through the town had begun. First there was the glass encased body of the former king, held high so even Kurt and his family, who were a few rows back from the edge of the parade, could see. Kurt didn't even know the man's name, just that he was a king and was now dead. Still, he looked on in awe at the red velvet robes and at the fine sword the corpse held against its chest as it passed on through the town in silence.

Next the dowager queen followed, covered head to toe in black and waving to the crowds from a sedan chair. Even for a woman, Kurt had to admire her ageless beauty - something afforded by those that could pay for beauty.

Finally, a man rode, in the royal red robes, atop of a great steed - the largest horse Kurt had ever seen. He was handsome, a nice square jaw and brunette curls, and Kurt listened as Carole whispered to Burt, “That must be the new king.”

The whisper was not ignored by an old woman before them though, who turned her head and snorted at Carole, “He's the eldest born son but he pledged his service to the royal guard. It's the second son that's been crowned.”

Carole made a small nod and thanked the crone for the information before looking back up.  Kurt's eyes were fixed on that first born, knowing that he could never marry being in the royal guard, and thinking that was a shame since such handsomeness should be replicated through children. It was while he was looking at the backside of that man that he heard his family gasp all at once by him, and he first looked to them before following their eyes and letting his own go wide at the sight that he was faced with.

Blaine. In red velvet… crowned and waving to the crowd. His face a blank shroud, one that saw nothing, took in nothing, but one that was Blaine nonetheless.  

It was then, when Kurt felt like he would crumple to the ground, that the strong hand of his father gripped his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

“When you challenge the devil to a game of cards, don't expect to win.”