oh gosh i'm so beyond sorry for the time this has taken! thanks for your patience! i feel just awful about how long with is taking me.

Kurt kissed him for a long time. Whenever one of them surged forward, they would rock a little, almost tipping off balance, but always evening out. Blaine had a hand cupping either side of the slave's face, grounding himself like he would float away if he didn't hold on. Kurt still had one hand pressed firmly against the smaller man's chest, the other now fisted in the fabric at the waist of his shirt. He took control of their movements, gently seeking his way further inside Blaine's mouth with his tongue, making the most delicious sighs drop out each time they parted for breath, or just to look at each other again.

Kurt's hand tightened over Blaine's heart and he pulled back, smiling fondly as the farmer's lips tried to chase his, like a magnet that couldn't help but be drawn forward. He opened his eyes again, taking in the thick lashes fanned out against flushed cheeks, those soft lips turned shiny from kissing.

"You take my breath away." Kurt gasped desperately, words falling out of his mouth of their own accord.

Blaine's own breath caught. His eyes fluttered open, gaze fixing on Kurt's parted lips and travelling slowly up to his eyes. He looked stunned.

"I- you-" He laughed disbelievingly, ducking his head. "You take mine."

"Mmm, good," Kurt hummed, pressing a kiss to his forehead, unable to resist the dazed man in front of him.

"Can we-" Blaine glanced up through his lashes at Kurt's mouth again, biting his lip in the most maddening way.

"We should probably actually finish making the bread." Kurt said ruefully. He trailed his fingers down Blaine's chest and then withdrew his hand entirely, rocking back on the balls of his feet and standing smoothly.

Blaine pouted at him from the floor for a moment and Kurt laughed as he noticed the full extent of their flour battle spreading out around him.

"Come on," He said fondly, reaching out a hand. Blaine took it and let himself be pulled to his feet. He was rewarded with a soft press of Kurt's lips against his, and then the slave was moving away again.

"I'll start cleaning up this mess. You finish the bread-"

"But don't you want to finish making-"

"I think we wasted a little too much time for that." Kurt interrupted, raising an eyebrow at Blaine. "You know how much longer it'll take if I'm cooking, and I'm too hungry to wait. I can learn the rest another time. Don't worry."

"I'm not." Blaine assured him, so full of joy that it was impossible to even imagine that he had the capability to worry about anything.

"I'll get some water to clean up." Kurt said. He stood there for a little longer, simply staring at Blaine.

"Have fun." The farmer said uncertainly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then surged forward, taking Kurt's face in his hands one more time and kissing him firmly.

"Mm, I will." Kurt whispered into his mouth as Blaine pulled back again, looking very pleased with himself.

...

Kurt set the bucket down beside the pump and flopped down onto the ground beside it. He tipped his head back against the metal spout and rested there a moment. His face split into a grin he couldn't possibly have suppressed if he'd tried.

"I can't believe you're real." He confessed to the wind, Blaine's dazed and wondering face still filling his mind.

He had spent so long telling himself that Blaine didn't like his as anything more than a friend. He had spent so long ignoring those little glances and blushes and fond smiles, writing them off as the remnants of physical attraction, friendship, or wishful thinking on his part. He had spent so long being utterly sure that no one, much less Blaine Anderson, would ever like him back.

It was really hard to grasp the fact that he did.

Kurt was living one of those moments where he felt absolutely buzzed with adrenaline, high with shock.

Nothing was sinking in yet.

He was a little scared that he would now have time to think about what was happening. It had all been pure instinct before. He had moved easily through the situation without second guessing it even once. He'd simply known that he wanted Blaine and every single things in his life had narrowed down into that easy fact. But now those long minutes of soft exploring kisses were over, he actually had to consciously consider the outcome of his own actions.

Kurt knew himself very well and he knew he had a tendency to over-analyze everything around him. That was what made him such a cleverly calculated person most of the time. It was usually a good thing; something that kept him alive. But at times it could choke him a little. He didn't want to give it a chance to choke him again. Not now, when everything finally seemed so beautiful.

Less than an hour earlier, while standing by Blaine's side at the kitchen table, it had been impossible for him to feel insecure about their friendship.

He'd been very much focused on the task at hand. Mixing bread dough and then kneading it out was something he'd never done before. Of course, he had worried about his ability to actually make the bread. But his companion had been so patient with him, gently guiding him through each step. It had felt so natural to just let himself be helped for once. There had been no need for all the usual masks; the refusal to do anything that could put him in a position of weakness; the aloof uncaring manner that showed everyone around him that even if he failed, it wasn't going to affect him. For once, there was no need to make sure his pride wasn't hurt, because Blaine didn't care. He didn't care if Kurt got it wrong. He just wanted to help him.

Kurt had already stripped away every part of the carefully constructed shell when he'd realised that Blaine Anderson was the real thing. When he might have been worried about adjusting to their new friendship, those days helping Blaine get better had settled them into an easy rapport that Kurt felt so comfortable with. He was ready to learn from the farmer, to absorb every second of their time together because he knew he would treasure it for as long as it lasted.

So he had felt more relaxed than ever as Blaine taught him how to make bread. And, oh god, the farmer had even helped him to finally see that he wasn't useless. He was good at something. Kurt filed that thought away to mull over later, certain he couldn't cope with it now.

He shut his eyes and pictured Blaine again, a smile springing instantly to his face. He remembered how warm and pleased he had felt as he started noticing all those bashful glances being sent his way. Usually he tried to talk himself out of thinking that Blaine might like him, but for some reason he had allowed his thoughts to wander. There was something about the way Blaine reacted whenever they were close, something about those glances and the way he hesitated before stepping nearer, the way his cheeks seemed to flush when they touched.

As focused as he was on cooking, Kurt hadn't really had the concentration left to chastise himself for letting the other part of his mind wander. His heart was all a flutter at the way Blaine was behaving.

As Kurt sat and flexed his fingers he could almost feel the farmer's presence again. He could practically sense the nearness of him, the way it made his breath stutter when Blaine took his hand and helped him mix the first ingredients. After that touch he had been hungry for more. He had found excuses to make it happen again. His own boldness made him blush now that he thought back to it. Of course, he had been uncertain about kneading the dough, but it probably hadn't been necessary for him to ask for a guided lesson.

Still, that's what he did. And he had no regrets. Not when he recalled the way Blaine had stepped into his arms after that shy moment of hesitation, and grasped his hands so carefully in his own. He would never stop loving the way they fit together. It had lingered even after the farmer left him to it and sat down to watch.

Kurt shifted on the hard ground and looked down at his arms, flexing them slightly to watch the way the muscles moved. He wasn't entirely sure why the sight had fascinated Blaine so much before, but it had certainly distracted him thoroughly. Kurt remembered the heat filling his cheeks as he noticed his companion slowly leaning forward.

Blaine's name had tumbled from his lips before he could help himself.

Which of course, had made the man jerk upright and knock over the flour.

And then Kurt, so surprised, had laughed.

Which led to Blaine falling right off his chair.

And then more laughter.

And, oh god, laughing at him was like poking fun at a best friend. Even while Kurt was concerned that Blaine might be hurt, even while he rushed down to check on him, he couldn't help bursting out into amusement at the situation.

Blaine's teasing retaliation, his sudden move to flick flour toward the slave, hadn't felt out of place even for a second. It had been so good to just let everything go, forget every concern he'd ever had, and just have fun.

Kurt hadn't laughed that hard in years. Not since Santana and Quinn had left the King's Castle.

When they reached the point where they couldn't breathe and their giggling turned to desperate gasps, Kurt had been utterly sure that he would never love anyone else like this in his entire life.

Blaine had looked so perfect. The image was still as crisp and real as ever when Kurt reflected on the moment; his beautiful golden eyes crinkling above his broad smile, his lovely curls scattered through with white so that it was easy to imagine how gracefully he would age, his beautiful midnight shirt dusted with flour. So, automatically, Kurt had exclaimed over the mess they'd made of the fabric. He had shuffled closer, drawn to Blaine as a moth is drawn to the vast spreading warmth of a fireplace. He played off the intensity of his emotions, forcing himself to look away, to focus on anything but Blaine's mouth. And so he'd fussed over the flour on his shirt, reaching out a hand to brush it away. But the moment his fingers touched the muscle of the farmer's chest, he'd felt their movements slow. His mouth had dried.

And then Blaine was looking at him, eyes so close Kurt could have melted.

Somewhere. Somewhere in the endless time that followed, they kissed.

It had utterly overwhelmed him. Every last facet of his mind had shut off as pure instinct took over. It was, perhaps, the first kiss where he hadn't taken the time to think about what he was doing. He'd simply done it.

At the time, he hadn't even considered for a single fraction of a second that Blaine might be kissing him for reasons that differed from his own. The part of him that was always calculating and questioning and hiding away behind a wall of mistrust was gone, buried beneath the press of Blaine's lips against his own.

And then, after they broke apart, there had been that long second of just breathing each other's air, and Kurt felt his mind perking up again.

One part of him wanted to kiss Blaine again. Another part started to try and process the situation. That other part started getting ready to whir into overdrive. But before Kurt could even start to over-think things and panic the way he usually did, Blaine made his own position abundantly clear. Where Kurt was seconds away from filling with panic that he had made the wrong move, put his whole heart out there to be destroyed, he was reassured by Blaine's reaction to their kiss.

Because Blaine didn't lean in with a cocky smirk to kiss him again. He didn't do any of the things he could have done that would have made Kurt wonder if he was just taking advantage. Instead, he sprang back, stumbled away, fumbled over his words.

He was utterly shattered by what he'd just done, and, finally, Kurt understood properly and fully.

He understood that Blaine liked him.

Because if Blaine was after him for his body, then he would simply have gone in for more without a second thought. He would have taken advantage of Kurt's suddenly obvious feelings to satisfy his own desires.

But because Blaine liked him, he was worried about how Kurt felt as much as his own pleasure. He'd fumbled through those rushed agonised apologies because he was terrified that Kurt had only let the kiss happen out of his own obedience to his owner rather than free will.

With that realisation, Kurt had filled to the brim with confidence like he had never felt before. It had been easy, after that moment of enlightenment, to explain to Blaine where he was coming from. It was so easy to gently shush him, shuffle forward, fond smile on his face without any need for a mask, and tell him firmly exactly how he felt. Because he knew now that he wasn't going to chase his owner away by falling in love with him.

Not when his owner liked him back.

Kurt kicked his feet happily for a moment from his place by the pump, his joy uncontainable. He took another deep breath, trying to calm down, and sprang to his feet.

The bucket was still sitting under the pump behind him, so he set about filling it up like he had intended to, wanting to hurry back inside.

...

On his first day Kurt forced himself up out of bed at the clanging sound of a bell passing outside his door. When Madame showed him to his room the night before, he'd been told enough about the King's Castle to know that this cued the start of breakfast. He was expected to arrive downstairs and eat the meal that would be given to him by a slave on duty. Soon all the girls would be emerging from their rooms and making their way downstairs. It would be the first time any of them saw Kurt in person, and he was worried. It was always hard fitting into a new place at the beginning.

He checked his hair in the mirror first, fussing until it sat in the perfect combination of "I didn't try at all" and "pretty much flawless". He pulled over the water bowl he'd filled the night before and splashed cold onto his face, bringing some life to his cheeks. Last of all he rearranged his nightclothes. He wanted to be sure that he presented the right front to the girls downstairs. He couldn't be too intimidating, but he also wanted to show that he knew exactly what he was doing and his place in the brothel was totally unquestionable. And most of all he wanted to look like he honestly didn't care what any of them thought. Kurt reached up and tugged one more clump of hair out of place and nodded to himself.

He had to pass through the separate room he would later see clients in before he reached the door. It wasn't the best room in the King's Castle, but he certainly wasn't starting from the bottom. Judging by Madame's plan to slowly build up a hype around his existence before presenting him as one of the prostitutes to be hired, she was hoping to make him even more prestigious.

Kurt squared his shoulders before taking the last steps out of the door, shutting it firmly behind him. A few paces ahead there was a blonde girl just leaving her own room. She didn't even seem to notice him, a spring in her step as she made her way down the hallway and toward the staircase. Inwardly, Kurt rolled his eyes at her cheerful demeanor. It made no sense to him. But nonetheless he followed her in the direction where the kitchen must be.

As she sprung down the stairs with one hand on the rail, he fell into step just behind her.

At the bottom of the stairs, he heard sudden thundering feet behind him and he just managed to keep himself from flinching away from the sound. In his peripheral vision, he caught the way the new arrival glanced at him before she was past him and taking the hand of the blonde in front of him.

"Hey, Santana," The girl greeted cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

"Slept wonderfully, Brittany." The girl named Santana answered, her black hair swishing around her shoulders as she walked. "Have you seen the new girl?"

"I think he's a boy." Brittany said, and she glanced over her shoulder at Kurt.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. It was pretty clear that Santana wanted him to overhear their whole conversation. He hoped she wasn't hoping to start any drama. He avoided that like the plague, even if he was willing to take steps to put other people in their place if he absolutely had to.

"Hard to tell, to be honest." Santana scoffed.

"Do you hate him because Madame said he was really good?" Brittany asked. "That's why you hate Quinn, right?"

Kurt almost smiled at the way she was cluelessly undermined Santana's attempt at being superior, but the urge vanished as it became clear that Santana was perfectly capable of remaining unfazed.

"Actually, I hate Quinn because she's a snooty little bitch. And I hate this guy because I doubt he could do a single thing right. He looks like a twelve year old."

Brittany giggled, and Kurt stubbornly ignored them.

"I think he looks like a pixie." She whispered, as though it would stop him from overhearing her. Kurt rolled his eyes, hoping that the kitchen was at least at the end of the hallway they were waking down. Santana snorted with laughter.

"Well, he'll quickly see that a face like a fucking doll won't get him any special treatment." She said. "They're going to destroy him the way they've crushed every other soul that comes through this damned hell hole. I've already enjoyed seeing Quinn's spirits weaken. Just because they call her Queen Q didn't stop her from being treated like a whore. Sooner this new bitch realises that, and gets that smug superiority off his face, sooner I get to enjoy myself while I watch him crying over breakfast. There's always a breaking point."

"You do know he's right behind us, don't you?" Brittany asked suddenly, as if worried that Santana may not have seen him. Kurt was starting to understand that a lot seemed to go right over her head.

As they turned a corner Kurt could suddenly see the door that was marked "Kitchen. No Entry."

"She knows." He said in a perfect deadpan, slipping past them and through the door before either one could answer him.

...

As Kurt focused on dredging up the first bit of water to get the flow started, the niggling doubt that seemed to constantly follow just a few steps behind him, leaped up again.

It was just one thought, one tiny thought, that started a whole stream of worry.

Blaine likes me back. Kurt's brain seemed to whisper. But maybe he shouldn't.

Maybe he shouldn't.

And Kurt felt his chest clench in that awful way it used to when he heard the knock on his door heralding a client, when he felt Mister drag a hand roughly through his hair and tell him he would always be his boy, when the gate of that prison cell first clanged shut behind him.

He hated this feeling. He hated how he could be absolutely on top of the world and then one tiny thought would send him plummeting to into despair again. Especially now. Especially after such a spectacular moment.

But Kurt couldn't help the thoughts chasing each other through his skull. He was so sure that Blaine was perfect. Blaine was without flaw.

And Kurt was so flawed it was eating him whole.

Could he really just take what he wanted from this and never let Blaine have what he really deserved? Could he ever stay with him, knowing that without him Blaine could return to the Mainland and find the perfect husband waiting for him; one who would know how to manage the farm alongside him, who would share all of his firsts, one who would never have the shadow of his past life hanging over them?

It would be so selfish of him. Probably the most selfish thing he'd ever done in his life. Because keeping this perfect man to himself would just be...

Could he really do that? He didn't deserve someone like Blaine, that was undoubtedly true. But he wanted him so so badly he thought he might just be able to hang on to him like a petulant child and never let go. Except he'd probably hate himself even more than he already did. And more importantly, Blaine might come to resent him as well. That thought alone made his gut squirm uncomfortable.

Why was he so selfish?

Kurt jumped in surprise as the water filling the bucket overflowed and splashed out onto his bare feet. Blushing, he shut off the pump. It was rare for him to get so deeply distracted. But Blaine always seemed to have that effect on him, ever since they'd first met. Kurt couldn't help the tiny smile that grew on his face, even as guilt clenched in his gut.

He hefted up the bucket and closed his eyes for a moment. He needed to calm down. He had to let himself enjoy this for now. It could eat away at his insides later, when he was awake in the dark with Blaine's sleeping form shifting closer for warmth. It couldn't be visible on his face when he went back inside, or Blaine would start worrying as well. And that wasn't fair on Blaine, because he would probably blame it on himself. He didn't understand the horrible rotting deep inside Kurt's soul.

The slave shook himself, focused on the kiss and blinking back the tears from his eyes. Only when he felt like he'd pushed away those messy thoughts did he open the door.

And there was Blaine. His curls shone softly in the firelight, the dusky sky visible through the window behind him. He was laying the dough into an open tin, hands so steady and sure. As Kurt shut the door behind himself, he watched Blaine's eyes snap up, a smile pulling across his face.

"Are you okay?" He asked immediately. "You were out there a long time."

"I was just thinking." Kurt replied, smile soft and something in him aching. Because he was so selfish. He was far too selfish.

"Mm?" Blaine hummed, patting the bread a little before looking up again. He bit his lip and Kurt's eyes were drawn to it immediately. "W-what were you thinking about?"

"Mostly how I've never been this happy and I sort of want to kiss you again." Kurt blurted out, too honest in his moment of distraction. His cheeks heated quickly, but it didn't matter. Blaine beamed.

"You can kiss me." He prompted, nudging the tin away and stepping around the table.

Kurt set his bucket on the ground and met him half way. His fingers grazed the edge of Blaine's jawline, a tentative question. Blaine reached for his face, eager as ever, and pulled Kurt closer.

The slave pressed sadly forward, making the kiss slow, lasting. As they pulled back he couldn't help his eyes darting across the farmer's face, examining him for traces of anything other than total happiness. He couldn't see a sign of it. There was no indication that Blaine knew he was settling for something so much worse than what he could have. He was such a sweetheart he probably had no idea that he could be with someone better.

"I'm going to get this bread cooked and then we can make something to eat with it. Do you want to help?"

"Yeah, of course." Kurt said. "Anything."

...

They are quietly together, slowly going through the chicken and pieces of their freshly baked bread. Blaine kept meeting Kurt's eye across the table and grinning, his whole face glowing with happiness. It made Kurt's heart flutter and he couldn't have held back his responding smile if he'd tried. The only thing that tinted the perfection of the moment was that for the whole evening his stomach quivering with a strange sort of guilt. He had no idea what to do about it. He tried not to think about it. Instead he just focused on the soft intensity of Blaine's gaze.

"Kurt, did you want more?" Blaine asked, jerking him out of his thoughts. There was only one piece of chicken left on the plate.

"I'm okay. You can have the last bit."

"I really don't mind sharing." Blaine said.

"You can have it."

"Kurt it's fine." He laughed softly, amused for some reason. "Just eat it."

"But I feel bad taking it away from you." Kurt insisted. And suddenly he couldn't stop thinking about how he was stealing all of Blaine's chances of being with someone who actually deserved him. He couldn't overlook that; couldn't let his own selfish wishes triumph over his desire to do what was right. He shouldn't take away the possible future Blaine could have.

"I don't mind." Blaine said, cocking his head to one side as if he'd noticed the change in Kurt's tone of voice. "I'm happy with what I have."

How could Blaine ever be happy with just Kurt?

"But you could have all of it." Kurt retorted, because Blaine could literally have everything he would ever want, couldn't he?

"Kurt. I'm happy with this." Blaine's sentence ended in another small laugh. He searched Kurt's face, obviously understanding that there was something more to the conversation that just a piece of chicken.

"I don't want to be selfish." Kurt finally admitted, and his voice was small and weak. He cast his gaze down to his lap, wringing his hands together, unable to look Blaine in the eye.

"When was the last time you took something for yourself instead of compromising for someone you care about?" Blaine's question surprised him. He frowned.

"I've been plenty selfish before, Blaine." He said, thinking of the people he had easily walked over to preserve himself. There were plenty of people he'd torn down in his life in the act of keeping his own head above the water. He almost felt a little defiant, determined for Blaine to understand that he hadn't always been a good person. When he didn't like someone, he never hesitated to let them know. Sometimes he didn't even hesitate before destroying them, usually with the most carefully chosen vicious insults. "I can promise you that I've been plenty selfish."

"Not when it comes to the people you love."

Kurt blinked. He wasn't sure how Blaine knew that.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. He wasn't sure how to explain that he knew he had to put his own feelings aside when someone he loved was involved. His feelings never mattered when there were more important people to worry about. Blaine sighed and bit his lip.

"I just mean..." He seemed frustrated, like he didn't know how to explain himself to Kurt either. "I just mean that it's okay to be selfish sometimes."

"Not if I'm taking something away from you." Kurt tried to protest.

"It's not like it's going to hurt me, Kurt." Blaine said. "I'm seriously completely happy with what I have."

Kurt's lower lip trembled for a moment.

Blaine was watching him with such concern, his brows pulled up in the middle and his eyes so open and caring and beautiful.

Before he could compose himself, Kurt's face crumpled, and he started to cry.

Blaine shot up out of his seat and appeared at Kurt's side, arms wrapped tightly around him. Kurt turned sideways into the embrace, burying his face in Blaine's chest and clutching at the back of his shirt. Blaine's chin rested on the top of his head. He hushed him softly, whispering nonsensical soothing sentences into his hair, his thumbs stroking gently where he was holding Kurt as close as possible.