AN: I'm back.
"So, this is your room?"
"Yep," Kurt says a bit proudly, popping the 'p' with a smile. "I decorated it myself."
Blaine takes it in, the huge four poster bed with the pale blue canopy, the walls that are such a light gray they border on white and that are covered on one wall with swirling silver decals and on another with framed everything, photos, posters, and all sorts of musical memorabilia shadowboxed. It's a beautiful room, really, about the size of his old one, the one before he was sold into slavery, though his was never this stylish.
"It's very pretty, kitten."
Kurt beams at the praise, and he looks genuinely happy. Blaine smiles back at him, just as bright but a hell of a lot less sincere.
"My dad said you get to sleep with me," Kurt says softly, his smile growing softer but still perfectly pleased. "I like the left side of the bed-"
"Oh, me too," Blaine cuts in. "It's so funny, all these little things we have in common."
Kurt's a bit stunned at the interruption, but he smiles back at Blaine the moment he snaps out of it.
"We can take turns," he suggests. Blaine smirks at him, walking closer and running a hand up and down the other boy's arm, becoming mildly surprised at the bicep he can feel hiding under that sweater. Kurt doesn't say anything for a second, and it takes Blaine all of that second to realize what's about to happen.
Kurt kisses him. It's slow and hesitant but it happens, and Blaine tries not to gag at the thought that he can't push away. He kisses back instead, presses at soft lips and tries to smile against them. Kurt's obviously never done this before, because he doesn't understand that Blaine's tongue tracing the seam between his lips is a sign to open his mouth. He bites Kurt's lip, expecting the surprised gasp and takes the opportunity to move on to French kissing.
Kurt sighs at the contact, eventually relaxing and moving a hand up to cup Blaine's face as Blaine wraps his own arms around Kurt's waist. He squeezes Kurt against his chest, comfortable to feel the boy's warmth and focus on getting him to make sounds. Kurt's his like this, not the other way around. He's the one in charge of Kurt's body right now, and for the first time in a while it feels like things are going to start looking up. Kurt's emotions are easy; with his body Blaine doesn't even have to try. If he can really give it to Kurt, take him apart with his mouth and his body, he can put the boy back together to be complaisant, a slave in his own right.
Sebastian always said a good dick is like a remote.
He pulls back a bit, takes in Kurt's fluttering eyelashes and flushed cheeks. He really is so very pretty. His plan isn't going to be unpleasant at all to carry out.
Not that it's a very well put together plan. Or maybe it is, but it's too simple to seem thought out. He's not sure.
Either way, as soon as Kurt opens those bright blue eyes and smiles at him, Blaine's lifting him up and Kurt's first reaction is to wrap his long legs around Blaine's waist. It's good that he did, because it would have been one hell of a train wreck if he hadn't.
"It's okay, kitten, I've got you." He carries Kurt over to the bed, a bit proud of himself, seeing as he'd never been considered a strong guy, though he'll ignore the fact that Kurt's probably got like 5% body fat or something. He tumbles down on top of Kurt, pressing him in to the mattress and grinning at the way the landing has placed him right between Kurt's legs. Kurt is gasping for air, and Blaine doesn't bother with his lips, opting instead to attach himself to the other boy's pale neck.
"So beautiful," he murmurs, because that's what boys like Kurt want to hear.
"Blaine," the boy moans from above him, "Blaine, nuh, we have…we need to slow down."
"I, um, I just don't think now's a good time." Kurt looks away as soon as Blaine picks his head up to see his face. "It's just, we don't really know each other very well yet, and my dad's downstairs, and-"
Blaine cuts him off with a kiss.
"I'm so glad you feel that way, kitten."
Kurt's eyes snap to him, hopeful and confused.
"I didn't think you were that kind of boy," Blaine elaborates, "but at the facility, well….there were rumors that when you were bought, you'd have to jump in to bed and-"
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighs, and he sounds so sad and shocked, like he truly had no idea what most slaves are bought for. "I'm so sorry."
"No, kitten, it's not your fault," Blaine is quick to say with a smile. "To be honest, with this body," he slides a hand down Kurt's thigh to emphasize his point. "I was honestly a little excited."
Kurt blushes at him, looking away as a sweet, embarrassed smile crosses his face.
"Oh," Blaine repeats, chuckling. He brings his hand back up, stroking Kurt's cheek with his fingers and watching with hungry, satisfied eyes as Kurt sighs and leans in to the touch.
So eager. So responsive. So easy.
"I want you to know that you won't be pressured," Blaine says in his most soothing voice, bending his neck so that he can rub his nose against Kurt's gently, and then kiss him on said nose. "Okay, kitten?"
Kurt smiles at him, turning his face to the side slightly so that he can kiss his cheek.
"Thank you, Blaine," he says softly.
"Anything for you," he responds with a small laugh. He moves over, flopping down on the bed next to Kurt.
An hour later they're in the same position, both now bathed and in comfortable sweats, though Kurt's actually fit him. There's a knock on the door, and they turn to see a wary Burt Hummel standing in the hall.
"Goodnight boys," he says cautiously. "No funny business, okay?"
"Oh my God, dad," Kurt groans. "We just met."
Burt looks a bit less sick at that, nodding at his son with a slight smile.
"Okay. Good, so, you guys get some sleep. And remember you promised me pancakes, buddy."
"Night, dad," Kurt says with a laugh. Burt smiles at him and leaves, flicking the light off as he goes and purposely leaving the door cracked open.
"I'm surprised he didn't take it off the hinges," Blaine jokes, and he can feel Kurt shake as he tries to keep his giggle quiet. A moment later Kurt scoots closer, hesitantly putting his head on Blaine's chest. Blaine makes no move to remove him, so he relaxes and throws an arm across the other boy's waist, pulling them closer.
"Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine says quietly, mostly out of obligation.
The next morning at breakfast, Burt slips him three hundred dollars cash. He sighs at Blaine's inquisitive look, and makes a motion for him to wait.
"Bud, you have toothpaste on your cheek," he says calmly, ruffling Kurt's hair. You'd think he'd just told Kurt that the angels had the Tardis with the expression that crossed Kurt's face before he excused himself is a surprisingly calm voice. Blaine was almost impressed with the contrast.
"Take my boy on a date…or something." Burt said as soon as his son was out of earshot. "I don't know, he likes this dinner theatre thing, or there's a couple of fancy restaurants I don't think he's been to when not being dragged to one of my business meetings. Buy him something first so you can give it to him, okay? Something nice."
"When do you suggest I do that?" Blaine asks carefully. "In case you haven't noticed, your boy barely leaves my side."
Burt just looks at him for a moment. Blaine can feel himself being evaluated, and he can tell that the man's a bit more than displeased. Kurt walks in then, stopping still and looking between them suspiciously, before immediately putting on a bright smile, probably to seem casual.
"So, what are we talking about?" he asks in a voice that's almost too cheery.
"Oh nothing," Blaine answers. "Just the game." He's willing to bet that Burt likes at least one sport.
"Okay." Kurt doesn't sound even remotely convinced, but he goes back to the stove without trying to dig for more information.
"Kurt," Burt calls, not taking his eyes off Blaine. "Why don't you and Blaine go to the mall today? I'm sure Blaine would appreciate having more than one outfit in his closet."
"The mall in Westerville?" Kurt asks hopefully.
"Take the credit card."
Kurt about flies into his father's arms, making a sound that Blaine's positive can be classified as a squeal.
"Thank you, daddy!"
"Yeah, now it's 'daddy'," Burt grumbles with a smile, kissing the top of Kurt's head anyway. Blaine can't help but feel a little jealousy and kind of weird at the display. His own father hadn't hugged him since he was little, because that was odd. He told Sebastian about it once and got a pillow thrown at his face for being a 'pervert'.
Burt smirks at him from over his son's head.
"Say, what kind of look are you guys going to go for?" he asks, smirk only growing. Kurt pulls back from where he'd snugly pressed into his father's chest, eye's too bright for whatever he's thinking about to be anything but scary.
"Well, I mean, there are several we could try and we're going to have to shop around and make sure we choose the one that fits his looks perfectly, but I was thinking of either a jockish look, or maybe kind of hipster, but not too hipster…"
Blaine ignores him for the most part, instead thinking about what he could do to impress the boy. He has to be perfect if he wants Kurt to trust him, to eat out of the palm of his hand even more beautifully than he already does. Plus, as soon as he gets the kid to bend over for him he can fuck with the father. After all, he's the one who bought him.
"Blaine, are you even listening?"
He blinks a bit, looking up at Kurt, who has the slightest of frowns. (Burt is in the background with a far larger frown to go with his disapproving glare.
"Sorry, kitten." He smiles to himself when Burt's glare intensifies at the pet name. "I just have a hard time focusing when I'm hungry."
"Oh, Blaine," he sighs with a roll of his eyes. "I'll finish the pancakes now. It'll only take a second, promise. "
Blaine smiles at him and thanks him, and doesn't even flinch when Kurt leans in and pecks him on the cheek. Burt says something or other about a Deadliest Catch marathon and how he wants real syrup, whatever that means. He pats Kurt on the shoulder before he leaves.
"Don't screw with me, kid," Burt mumbles on his way out, and Blaine can hear him chuckling as he retreats to the living room.
He's pretty sure Burt Hummel is a sadist.
AN: I...am sorry. My cousin died. If you have read anything I've written and seen the author notes, then yes, it was that cousin. It's taken a year almost, because of my already there problems intensifying due to his, you know, not being here, and then the therapy stuff revealing things I've apparently repressed that are pretty horrible and basically my childhood was even worse than I had thought.
That's very sad and I apologize because I personally found the ending of this chapter hilarious and now I've gone and made this end on a sad note.
Um, so...How about them Avengers? Was it the best comic adaptation ever? (The answer is yes.) You should message me so we can talk about how perfect Fluffalo was as Bruce Banner. Because Bruce Banner is my favorite everything.