Fire.

As of late, Kurt’s nightmares were always fire. Fire that raged like a burning hatred, consuming everything in its path; one that he could neither fight nor escape. A different bane used to wake him night after night - equally as difficult to recover from, but to which he had become numb: screaming, crying, the sting of cold water, the blinding agony of a knife plunging into his back.

The anguished eyes of his daughter pleading with him to stand.

The beckoning eyes of his husband begging him to live.

But that was a torture that affected mostly him. This time, it was the kiss of flame that jolted him conscious, a heat like none other searing his skin and curling it from the bone. He could hear the crackle as it melded with his muscles and split from his skeleton. He could hear the wails of his husband and child as they suffered the same, the three of them perishing in a pyre that no sacrifice on Kurt’s part could save his loved ones from.

Kurt woke drenched in sweat, unable to think or catch his breath. He tried to scream. Instinctually, he called out his husband’s name, but what came from his mouth was a raspy squeak, as if his throat had been sanded raw. There was a flash before his eyes, like the white hot spark of a pistol firing, but it faded into the dull pain in his back. His ears rang with the clap the firing made, but as that, too, started to diminish, Kurt saw the world around him as it truly was.

He was in his and Blaine’s room, lying in bed beside his husband. All was still, but from outside his window, lightning forked across the sky. There were no clouds, no obvious threat of rain, and it took a while before thunder followed, so Kurt deduced that whatever storm they could expect must be miles off. It would most likely be upon them by sun up. Regardless, the next finger of lightning and its shadowing boom set Kurt’s frazzled nerves on edge. Even in their massive bedroom, Kurt felt trapped - by the shirt sticking to his skin; the blankets heavy on his legs and twined around his ankles; by the very air, dried by the blazing fireplace in the corner and snapping with static from the oncoming storm. He felt choked for a decent, reviving breath. He needed to get out, but that meant leaving his beloved husband alone.

To that end, he swore to himself that he would not go far, and would return before his husband woke.

He shimmied out of the hold of his sheets and from beneath the arm thrown across his waist. He rolled to his knees, but before he stepped off the bed, he leaned over his peacefully sleeping husband’s face and gently kissed his forehead.

“Sleep sweetly, my love,” Kurt whispered, “and do not wake. I promise I shall not be gone long.”

Kurt pulled on a pair of pants but not his stockings, and slipped his bare feet into the sturdiest walking shoes he could find. He encountered no one on his way downstairs – not his maid, long asleep in his daughter’s room; nor the below stairs staff, enjoying their last few hours of sleep before they needed to be up starting the morning chores; and no butler at the door since Kurt did not ring for him. The Andersons did not require their butlers to stand the door all through the night as many lords did. As they were established far out in the countryside, with few visitors passing unannounced, Blaine felt the practice cruel and unnecessary, and Kurt agreed.

Although there were no eyes to catch him sneaking out, Kurt opened the front door only a sliver and closed it quietly behind him. Stepping from the cozy hearth of the manor into the chill air outside, Kurt realized that his coat, the thickest he could find while attempting to be quick, proved much too thin to be worn in the dead of night when he had naught but his night clothes on underneath, but he did not turn back for another. More lightning flashed, more thunder roared. Shrouded by both, Kurt finally felt at liberty to let his disquieted tears fall. A strong wind buffeted his face, forcing his eyes away from the path. He stumbled through low hanging, leafless tree branches, tripping over his feet on his way to the stable. The evening breeze burned the inside of his nose when he breathed, reminding him of the suffocating smoke inside his dream. He took in long inhales of it to fight off the memory and clear his head. He needed to free himself from his fear; overcome it.

But apparently he had gone in the wrong direction for that.

There was a moment of calm after the last bout of thunder, and in the space between, a labored groan rent the night. From what Kurt could make of it, it was Sebastian’s voice, and he sounded injured. Kurt looked around him. All seemed as it should be, but as he broke further through the trees and crept closer to the stable yard, he spied a single horse tied fast to a post, watering itself at the trough.

A horse that Kurt did not recognize as belonging to the estate.

Lightning struck off in the distance, hitting what Kurt could only guess was a tree as he recognized the sound of branches falling into a nearby body of water. Kurt’s body went rigid, his muscles turned to solid stone at that familiar noise, and a terrifying thought came to him. What if this horse belonged to one of Matthew’s men, returned to exact revenge? Matthew’s body had been recovered from the water days after Kurt’s recovery began. Word spread of the man’s demise and his subsequent relation to Blaine. Sebastian’s part in the encounter had not been lost. For many weeks, he could not go to town for supplies as he would be swarmed by local admirers. Some of the tale had been exaggerated, but one fact stayed consistent in the retelling. Sebastian had held a gun to one of Matthew’s men. Maybe Matthew had more hired men than they knew of, men who were fanatically loyal to him. Would they come to the house to finish what Matthew had started, even with their employer gone?

If they did, would they go after Sebastian first, to ensure that he couldn’t intervene a second time?

Kurt approached the stable carefully, thinking to investigate first before he ran for help. There were plenty of logical explanations for an unfamiliar horse to be watering itself at their trough. Maybe an innocent traveler had come by, anticipating the storm and looking for lodging. It still could be a man, and he could still be dangerous, but what if it were a woman…or a child? Or the horse could be a new acquisition, and Kurt was only seeing it now. That could very well be the case. Unlikely, since Sebastian did the buying on Blaine’s behest. If he had bought a new horse, he would have certainly told Blaine, and Blaine would have told Kurt.

No. As far as Kurt was concerned, this horse was an ill omen, and Kurt needed to ensure the safety of his friend. Besides, what if the brigand had Sebastian at his mercy, with a gun to his temple or a knife to his throat? Surely there was something that Kurt could do to fend him off. He had thought he had fought off his fair share of devils for one lifetime. But in defense of his friend, he was sure he could do battle with one more.

Kurt made it to the window without exposing himself to anyone. The entry to the stable was lit by a single lantern, but with this first space as small as it was, that one golden light brightened the whole stall. Kurt hoped that whatever was happening was taking place in the light and not in the dark, for in the dark it would be too difficult to tell what he’d be dealing with. When Kurt peeked inside, it was as Kurt had feared - a man dressed in a weathered, brown-leather riding coat, whose face Kurt could not see, had Sebastian pushed up against the stall wall, hands holding his waist, pinning him.

Sebastian was dressed in his night clothes, which meant this man had ambushed Sebastian while he slept. Sebastian stood with his back rod straight, his legs slightly spread, his hand threading through the man’s hair in struggle…but he wasn’t shoving the man off of him. He was pushing the man down to his knees. He murmured words that Kurt couldn’t fully understand in a voice that dripped like honey and he was…smiling…oh God!

The man in the coat dropped obediently to the floor. Sebastian threw his head back, eyes shut, with an expression of exquisite pleasure and longing on his face both erotic and heartbreaking. That’s when Kurt realized his huge mistake. Blurry headed from his dream, his heart filled with a trepidation that kept his mind locked in a state of alert, he had completely not thought, had forgotten what week this was…did not infer who the man in the coat could be.

Now Kurt knew, and his cheeks burned with shame.

The man in the coat had to be Sebastian’s fiancé, Hunter. From what Sebastian had said, it had been ages since the two had laid eyes on one another.

In that case, this was definitely a suitable greeting.

“Do you like that, Sebastian?” the man on his knees purred, running a hand up Sebastian’s chest and lifting his shirt. Kurt could see clearly the effect the nip in the air, along with Hunter’s mouth, had on Sebastian once his shirt reached his neck – his skin flushed red from lust and cold, his nipples hard, his stomach muscles tensing as he repeatedly stopped himself from coming too close. This was the first time Kurt had ever seen Sebastian in the slightest undressed. In Kurt’s opinion, no one compared to the beauty of his own gorgeous husband, but Sebastian was himself a beautiful man. And knowing that he was happy made catching him like this even more wonderful.

But Kurt should not be here. Kurt should go. He should turn around, walk back the way he came, and go directly to bed beside his husband where he belonged. But watching this, even though he shouldn’t, fascinated him too much for him to leave. It was in such contrast to the dream he had left behind in the manor, of violence and anger and death. Here in this humble stable, between Sebastian and Hunter, there was hope and joy and light. Kurt wanted a moment to savor it, even if it did not belong to him.

“Oh, God,” Sebastian moaned. “Yes...do that…keep doing that…keep…God, I missed you…”

“I missed you, too, my love.”

Blaine was vocal, too, in a multitude of ways. He rambled and moaned, and sometimes when the mood struck, he would even recite poetry. But when he came to that point where words ceased to have meaning, he mostly just called Kurt his, lovingly and possessively in equal measure, and repeated Kurt’s name till it became a prayer, one that the heavens themselves grew tired of hearing. Then the word would be stolen, and his voice would falter.

But it wasn’t Blaine’s words, as romantic as they were, that Kurt held dear. It was the way Blaine said them that told Kurt everything he needed to know about how much the man loved him, how much he had always loved him.

Kurt had yet to meet Hunter, but Sebastian spoke of him a great deal. They were only boyfriends when Kurt first learned the man existed, but after Blaine invited him to join them on the estate, Sebastian asked Hunter to marry him. They were so in love that if Kurt did not have a love of his own, he would have envied theirs till his ears turned green.

To a degree, he envied it now. This was how Kurt wished his and Blaine’s initial reunion had gone. In another lifetime perhaps, with none of the strife that had befallen them, none of the obstacles between them, the two of them so completely enchanted by one another that they had to be in each other’s arms, regardless of the when and where, this could have been their reality.

Hunter grabbed Sebastian’s wrist and brought Sebastian’s hand to his hair, giving him permission to grab hold. Then Hunter moved his other hand around Sebastian’s hip, behind to his ass. Whatever the man did then made Sebastian curse.

“Fuck, Hunter! I’m…I’m going to…oh Hunter…oh…holy…fuck…”

Kurt gasped at not only the words, but the passion in Sebastian’s voice, the bliss and the euphoria. Sebastian’s eyes popped open, and like a moth to a flame, they immediately landed on Kurt staring in at the window. His face, ruby red with the blush of his oncoming orgasm, went sheet white.

“Mi--milord?” he stuttered, cupping a hand over his privates as Hunter hurriedly backed away and scurried out of sight. “Milord? I am…I am sorry. I am so so…we would have never...it is just…”

“Tis alright,” Kurt said, hiding his face in embarrassment. Sebastian bolted from the warmth of the lit stable and into the dark and cold outdoors. “I apologize. I should not be down here this late at night. And I would not have looked in at the window, only…”

Master and servant regarded one another – Sebastian with surprisingly little shame while Kurt’s eyes traced scarcely visible shadows along the ground, wondering if this would be a good time to sprint for the manor and pretend that tonight never happened.

“Only…” Sebastian prompted, his voice laced with the same flattery that often sugared his words when they first met and walked the grounds together.

“Only…” And here Kurt prayed a sudden wind would lift him off the ground and carry him aloft, or an errant fork of lightning would strike him dumb, “I…I heard you…uh…moaning…and I…I thought you were hurt.”

Sebastian chuckled at Kurt’s concern in the midst of his bumbling explanation, the sincerity of his words, the innocence. Especially the innocence. Kurt couldn’t be naught but a few years younger than Sebastian. Rumor had it from the servants in the main house, who spoke only amongst themselves and to no one outside the grounds, that Lord and Count Anderson spent a great deal of their time locked away in their room – after breakfast, after lunch, and from after Beth was put abed till early morning sunrise – worshipping one another, loudly as he heard tell it. Enthusiastically was another word often used. And obnoxiously by one grizzled upstairs maid a century or two older than God.

So to have Count Anderson blush at the sight of him and Hunter together only made Sebastian that much fonder of his lord and friend.

“I would have never…done that…in the stable where someone could catch us, only I…he just arrived, milord,” Sebastian explained, tying up his pants with trembling fingers. Kurt heard Sebastian blow out sharply as his fingertips brushed his aching, unspent erection. Kurt scolded himself for not turning away sooner and letting the poor man finish.

“You two make a handsome couple,” Kurt commented, then pinched his eyes shut at the awkwardness of such a statement coming after the circumstances of their non-introduction.

“Uh…thank you…milord,” Sebastian replied, his face growing a brighter shade of red than Kurt had ever seen, especially since Sebastian was not one inclined to blush. But then his smiling eyes became grave. Kurt assumed he would beg Kurt not to tell Lord Anderson what he had witnessed. But before Kurt could head Sebastian off with reassurances, Sebastian said, “Milord? Are you…unwell? You seem out of sorts.”

“I…” Kurt had meant to excuse his appearance with anything but the truth, but he couldn’t. He had want of a friendly ear to bend. “I had a nightmare. I did not wish to wake my husband, so I came down here to visit Rembrandt and Misty.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, milord…” – Kurt did not stop him, for he greatly valued Sebastian’s advice – “do you not think you should discuss your fears with the earl?” Sebastian’s eyes glittered with sincere worry. “I fear he would be heartbroken if he discovered that you chose not to confide in him.”

“I do have every intention of confiding in him. Tis only…” Kurt yawned, raising a hand swiftly to cover his mouth. A wave of exhaustion brought the lateness of the hour to bear, and his body swayed. He had been fueled by adrenaline on his way down here, but that adrenaline was wearing thin. Sebastian felt the hour, too. He gestured toward an obliging bench, and they both took a seat. “He has nightmares also,” Kurt continued once he sat. “More so lately, it seems. I felt that he deserved a moment of peace before I burdened him with mine.”

“I see, milord.” Sebastian nodded, but from the tone of his voice and the expression on his face, his thoughts on Kurt’s explanation seemed unclear.

“I told him that I do not believe an evil like the one that had been in our midst will ever invade our peace and privacy again. And I hold to that, wholeheartedly. But on quiet nights like this, when every noise invades your dreams, I cannot seem to keep my mind from wandering, and it all comes back. Everything that happened, everything I felt, all of the fear. It becomes too much.” Slowly, Kurt wound his arms around his torso, needing the comfort of being held to steady his voice. Oh, how he wished his husband were there to hold him instead. “I have much to be thankful for, so much more than most people, and not by virtue of my husband’s wealth, but in my wonderful family. I came so close to losing it.” Kurt shook his head in despair. “I could not bear it if I ever did.”

“I think you realize that you have been uniquely blessed, milord,” Sebastian said. “Your start out here was rough, but you have excelled, and you have everything you wanted – a beautiful daughter, and a husband who lives and breathes for you. Hold on tight to those things and never once take them for granted. Though, if I know you” - Sebastian smiled – “and I would like to believe that I do, I do not see you ever being that foolish.”

Kurt grinned hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. Praise from his husband could make Kurt melt into a puddle of pure glee, but affirmations from someone Kurt respected as much as he did Mr. Smythe made him similarly as giddy. But in this, Kurt recognized another slight sadness, one that had nothing to do with his nightmare.

“Would it be wrong to admit that I miss our talks?” Kurt asked, unsure if his confession was wholly appropriate. There was still much of the gentleman in him, the one spoiled by a freedom to admit to his affections as he chose. The life of a lord, Kurt discovered, could be vastly more restricting in almost every possible way. Things such as friendships were not so simple, especially where it concerned a lord and a servant. Mr. Smythe had been exposed to the lifestyle longer than Kurt. Kurt trusted that Sebastian would give him an honest, non-biased answer.

“I do not believe it is wrong, milord,” Sebastian said with a sheepish smile. “But I think it is important to remember that you have greater things in your life that require your attention than me. But, should you ever have need of my counsel, I shall always be willing, and available, to give it.”

Kurt was relieved. It was the answer that Kurt expected from Sebastian - straightforward, which he appreciated.

“I have never properly thanked you for everything you have done for me,” Kurt said.

“Would that be caring for the wisteria, milord?” Sebastian teased. “Watering your horse?”

“You saved my marriage.”

Sebastian lowered his eyes out of respect, his cheeks growing redder than they had previously. “Milord, you give me too much credit, I think. You and Lord Anderson were already ridiculously in love.” Sebastian peeked up, mischief in his grin. “You just needed to get your heads out of your collective arses and tell one another.”

Kurt spit out a laugh, as Sebastian had intended, but it ended too quickly.

“You saved my husband’s life,” Kurt remarked soberly.

“Even there, milord, you are mistaken. I simply finished a job that you had already started, regardless of the yarns that those soft-headed people in town like to spin.” Sebastian leaned toward his master and gave him a solemn smile. “You were the hero of that story, milord, and do not ever think any different.”

Kurt put a hand over Sebastian’s. Sebastian, for all of his want to lace their fingers together just once to see how it would feel, was content to simply sit still and let Kurt hold it. “Yours has been the most important friendship of my life since I married the earl,” Kurt said, the words wavering. The terror that had driven him from the house had not yet completely past, and lent weight to his current emotions. “I think I would have gone mad here if it hadn’t been for you.”

“You shall always have my friendship, milord.” Sebastian stared at the hand covering his own, how delicately the bruised fingers held him, how comforting his master’s touch. A single corner of Sebastian’s mouth hitched up in his usual sly grin. “Thank you for worrying about the welfare of a humble servant.”

“You have never been just a servant, Sebastian,” Kurt said. “And as for humble, I do not think that is even possible for you.” Kurt pulled a face, to which Sebastian laughed so loudly, it stirred his fiancé’s horse.

From the corner of Kurt’s eye, he saw a lantern light in one of the downstairs windows of the manor. It caught his attention immediately since no one should be out of bed at this hour. For that matter, certainly not Kurt. If Beth was awake with a nightmare, or his husband had discovered him missing, Blaine would have every servant in the house on the search for him. Sebastian saw it, too, and nodded Kurt toward it.

“Go, on, milord,” Sebastian said. Both men broke their hand hold without discomfort, but Kurt, for one, seemed reluctant to leave. It had been quite a while since he and Sebastian had had such a talk. It felt like old times, and old times brought back memories good and bad…but mainly good. Fairy tale like in their remembrance, with gestures of love and a happily ever after. Sebastian had missed the Count’s company, too, but it was not his place to say it directly. So he came up with a resolution that would be considered acceptable to everyone involved. “If you would like a meeting on the morrow, milord, I will be certain to have time available for you. Possibly out in the garden, where Lord Anderson and Miss Beth can oversee?”

“That is most kind of you,” Kurt said, rising to his feet with Sebastian following suit. “I would indeed enjoy it. And please, extend my apologies to your fiancé. It was not my intention to interrupt his…uh…homecoming.”

And there it was, that stammer of innocence, and Sebastian could not let it pass disregarded.

“You need not apologize, milord, but I will relay the message. And do not worry” – Sebastian gave Kurt a wink, one of the ones that made Blaine bristle even though he knew he had naught to fear – “I will make it up to him.”

***

There was not a soul up and about in the manor that Kurt could see when he walked through the door; just a single lamp lit in the window, and underneath it, a note from Marley that read:

Count Anderson;

I saw you leave as I went to fetch a mug of warm milk for Beth, so I put this light in the window to help you find your way home. I hope that all is well with you. Please let me know if you have need of me.

Marley

Kurt smiled reading it. His maid Marley was so dear to him; nearly as dear to him as his own brilliant sister. She was a constant and true companion. Kurt would have been lost without Marley in his life as well. Without her service and her friendship, how dreary would his life have been? Sebastian was right. Kurt was uniquely blessed, and he would aspire his entire life to never take a single blessing for granted.

Kurt took the lantern with him as he ascended the steps to his bedroom. He was not halfway there when he heard the grunting and whimpering of his husband. Kurt raced up the stairs, knowing in his heart that he had failed. He had taken too long indulging in his own nightmares. He was not by his husband’s side when he was needed.

His husband’s was a third man’s evening Kurt had managed to ruin.

Kurt returned to his husband’s side to find Blaine tossing in bed, a sheen of sweat coating the deepening furrow in his brow. He mumbled words that Kurt only barely caught as they slid past his lips. He spoke mainly names, people he called out to, pleading, begging for help, or for leniency.

“Kurt…my love…Kurt…no…B-beth…my darling, Beth…Cooper…no…Matthew…Matthew, don’t!”

“My lord…” Kurt tossed off his coat and shoes. He climbed into bed and under the covers, searching for the heat of his husband’s body to chase the night air from his own, in the hopes of shocking him awake. “Darling? Wake up…” He shook Blaine firmly, but the cold of his skin seeping through Blaine’s night clothes did not wake him. “My love? You must wake up.” Kurt kissed him on the mouth, but Blaine shook him away.

“No,” Blaine murmured. “Don’t…don’t hurt…can’t…not…strong enough…”

Kurt held Blaine in his arms and leaned to his ear. “Blaine?” he whispered. “Blaine, my love, wake up.” Blaine’s whimpers turned into full-fledged sobs, and Kurt’s heart began to bleed. “I’m here, Blaine,” Kurt choked. “Blaine…Blaine, please. Wake up. Wake up and look at me. I’m here with you. It is all okay. We won, remember? We were victorious and now all is well.”

Kurt felt Blaine’s breathing slow and his thrashing stop before he heard his voice or saw his eyes open.

“Kurt?” Blaine said in question, hands rising to cover his, and then holding on tightly when he discovered the state of his husband’s skin. “Kurt, my love! You are so cold!”

“Yes, my lord,” Kurt agreed, resting his head atop his husband’s curls. “I am cold. Completely through and through.”

Blaine looked at his husband with concern in his fear-blown eyes. “You…you had another nightmare, my love?”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt nodded, wiping his husband’s tears with the cuff of his shirt. “And you as well, my lord.”

“Yes” - Blaine shifted in Kurt’s embrace to sit up higher - “I am afraid I did.”

“Would you like to talk about it, my lord?” Kurt breathed in deep to calm his racing heart. He smiled when he felt Blaine breathe in with him.

“Not for the moment,” Blaine decided, to Kurt’s disappointment since he longed to help his husband, make it up to him for leaving him in torment alone. “I only wish to forget.”

Those final words resonated with Kurt, and he bit his lip as he thought of a way that he could possibly help his husband. He unwrapped Blaine from his embrace and climbed atop him, and if Blaine grieved the loss of his husband’s arms, it did not show once Kurt sat astride his hips.

“If you would permit me, my lord, maybe I can help you to forget.”

“Maybe you can, my lord,” Blaine echoed. He reached for Kurt’s hips, eager to be inside him, but Kurt slid from his grasp, crawling down his legs and disappearing beneath the blankets.

“Kurt?” Blaine chuckled nervously. “My love, what are you…” Blaine felt Kurt toy with the laces to his pants, removing them assuredly, and his body stiffened in response. “Kurt, sweetheart, no…you do not have to…”

“I know I do not have to, my lord,” Kurt whispered against Blaine’s cock, the heat of his mouth spurring his erection to life, “but I want to.”

“But, Kurt, love, I…”

Kurt took his husband into his mouth, and suddenly it became impossible for Blaine to object. Blaine’s trembling hands felt down his body for Kurt’s shoulders, tugging to bring him back up, but Kurt refused to relent. He pushed the blankets off so that his husband could watch, so that he could see how much Kurt wanted him like this. Kurt didn’t do this for Blaine often. Not because Blaine didn’t want it, since he enjoyed his husband’s mouth immensely. And not because Kurt was not willing, since bringing Blaine pleasure brought Kurt pleasure as well. But Blaine still felt uncomfortable at times with his husband being so close to his injured leg. He was self-conscious of how it looked, even though Kurt’s regular ministrations with his various oils and potions had helped both the health of Blaine’s skin and the soreness in his muscles.

Kurt didn’t make an issue of Blaine’s leg, he didn’t make a dance out of avoiding it, but he didn’t shy away from it either. He massaged both legs with strong fingers, kneading the muscles the exact same way on both limbs. When Blaine realized that his husband would not be removed, he settled into the idea of Kurt between his legs and let his husband’s delicious mouth do the rest.

Kurt took hold of Blaine’s wrist the way he had seen Hunter do with Sebastian and brought Blaine’s restless hand, scratching at his shoulders, to his hair. He grabbed hold of Blaine’s other hand and wove their fingers together. That one gesture elicited an immediate reaction, Blaine thrusting up, surrendering fully to the hollow of Kurt’s mouth.

“Oh, Kurt…yes, Kurt…my love…” Feeling Blaine move, giving himself over to complete and utter abandon, was a kindling to Kurt’s desire like none other. It unhinged him, made all programming in the ways of propriety and decorum fly out the window, caused him to do things he would neither give voice nor thought to in polite company. With his free hand, he scratched a trail down Blaine’s ass and his thigh, over his knee and his shin, then rounded to his own erection, which he alternated between stroking and rutting down the length of his husband’s leg, and that made Blaine moan louder.

“Kurt, my love…you are too good to me…too good at that. How? How did you get so good? My innocent rose…”

Kurt was tempted to remark on that, that he wasn’t too good; he was perfect for Blaine. They were perfect for one another. But he felt his husband’s hand tighten in his grasp, his legs twitch, his body coil, and he knew that to stop now would be an unforgivable sin. So he continued, pausing only a second to moan around his husband as he brought himself closer to completion, his own cock wedged between his body and his husband’s leg, rutting with every bob of his head.

“K-kurt,” Blaine stammered, “my darling Kurt. I am…so close and I…I do not wish to defile…your pretty…” His words, breathy and cluttered, retreated down his throat from whence they came as Kurt strengthened his efforts, ensuring that his husband would soil nothing but his mouth. Kurt wanted to have as much of him as he could take, all of him if he could manage.

Blaine’s hips went still, but his back arched. His legs shook, and his hand in Kurt’s hair became a fist. Blaine did not shove Kurt down upon him, but Kurt knew he wanted to. He wanted Kurt to take him completely, and so Kurt did, swallowing his length, his mouth fitting to Blaine’s girth as Blaine came down Kurt’s throat with such gusto that Kurt could barely find air to breathe.

Blaine fell to the mattress with a grunt and a shudder, his limbs like rubber, his stomach, clenched for so long, soft like pudding in his newly relaxed state. Kurt pulled away with a sniff and a gasp.

“My lord,” he said, his throat burning, but so infinitely happy, he could not find reason to care. “It seems I may have made a mess of your leg.” Kurt laid his head on Blaine’s thigh as he sucked in breath after breath, drawing a finger through the lukewarm pool of his own semen spattered on Blaine’s calf and thigh.

“Leave it, my love,” Blaine said, drawing a last tremulous inhale. “Oh my merciful God in heaven.” He urged his husband up his body with tugs to the shoulder of Kurt’s shirt, needing to kiss Kurt on the lips while he spoke. “Whatever in the world possessed you?”

Kurt blushed crimson to the roots of his hair. “I may have interrupted poor Mr. Smythe tonight, celebrating his fiancé’s homecoming.”

“Oh,” Blaine said in confusion and surprise. “Has Mr. Clarington arrived? It is so late in the evening.”

“Yes, my lord. He has just,” Kurt admitted with a heavy swallow. “And I…may have caught them doing something similar out in the stable.”

Blaine’s relaxed smile pulled into a thin line. “I see.”

“Oh, no,” Kurt pleaded with regret for saying anything that could wipe his husband’s smile away. “Please do not be cross, my darling. They are both so very much in love...”

“I am not cross,” Blaine said, soothing Kurt with fingers running tenderly through his mussed hair. “I would never do anything to either of them. I owe Mr. Smythe a great deal, and bringing his Mr. Clarington here was the least I could do to repay the debts that I have in his ledger.” Blaine cupped the back of Kurt’s head and brought their foreheads to rest together. “But you went out wandering the grounds because you had a nightmare, and you sought his comfort before mine.”

Kurt shook his head. “No, my lord. I did not seek for anything but a breath of fresh air. I thought to spend a moment or two brushing my horse till I felt right again. My running into them happened completely by accident, I assure you.”

Blaine gazed into the imploring blue eyes of his husband and guilt clouded his smile.

“Forgive me for my assumption. I do not begrudge you any friendship you have with anyone. You deserve companionship. And no one could ask for a better friend than Sebastian.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“But…why did you not wake me?”

Kurt sighed, his own guilt coming to task. “I did not wish to burden you with my sorrows, my lord, especially since you wrestle with nightmares of your own…” Blaine looked prepared to object, and Kurt knew exactly what he would say - that Kurt’s fears were not a burden, and even if they were, shouldering Kurt’s burdens was the reason that Blaine was there. As his husband, they were meant to share these burdens together. Still, Kurt put his fingertips to his husband’s lips to halt his words till he had finished. “That does not mean I do not need you first and foremost. Yes, I wanted a moment to clear my head, but only for a while. What I needed more than anything was the comfort of your body, the constancy of your love. And when you woke, you so graciously gave it. For that, I could not be more grateful.”

“I love you, Kurt,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s hand, placing the sentiment there for Kurt to carry with him for all time. “Do not ever doubt that, or the fact that I exist just for you. Because I do. Your worries are my worries, your joys my joys. I will always be here for you, whenever you have need of me.”

“I do not doubt that, my love,” Kurt said. “Not one bit.” Kurt rested his head upon Blaine’s chest and let his husband continue to stroke his hair. “I have lived too many years of my life without you, Blaine. But now that I have you, I am never ever letting you go.”