FIC: GLEE: Blaine/Kurt - Put Your Hands on Me (and magic sparks) - (NC-17) - [WiP] 6/10?
Title: Put Your Hands on Me (and magic sparks) 6/10? [WiP]
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,400 / 24,500 [so far]
Summary: AU. Faeries exist, but are a rarity. Slavery, and more specifically, sexual slavery, is a way of life for many people. || When a boy is lucky enough to get his hands on a half-Faerie boy in an auction, he ends up falling too deep into something he doesn't understand. // When a half-Faerie boy is unlucky enough to be sold off in an auction to an ignorant human boy, he is sucked into a life he never wanted and forced to deal with an aspect of his species he didn't know existed.
Warnings/Contains: Non-explicit rape. Explicit dub-con. Slavery/sexual slavery. Fantasy-genre alternate universe. Dark!fic. Magic. Non-human species. PoV switches. General creepiness on Blaine's behalf. A fucked up society. Ear!porn? || More detailed warnings: ( skip) Magic-made-them-do-it, falling in love with your captor/Stockholm syndrome, mentions of torture.
Master Post / Previous Chapters
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any of these characters. I simply dabble in this toybox.
Notes: This was supposed to be chapter seven. It has been finished for two weeks. Chapter six, on the other hand, is only about ¾ of the way done, and doesn't want to be finished. Chapter six was supposed to be up before the hiatus was over. That obviously didn't pan out as planned.
Since these two chapters take place in different timelines, I'm sucking up the fact that my whiny inner perfectionist is going, but it doesn't flow as well! and I'm posting this as chapter six instead. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon since most of it is written already. Sorry about the long wait.
Chapter Specific Warnings: ( skip) Thoughts of suicide, forced sedation/drugging.
three days ago
The first thing that came to my mind when I awoke was, I overslept.
The sun was streaming into the room at such an angle that it was shining directly on my face. It was late in the morning. Or, at least, later than I normally woke up in a morning.
I soon rolled over to get the sun out of my eyes when I realized that it didn't matter. I didn't oversleep, because I had nothing to be awake for. Slowly sitting up, I looked around the room. The bed was empty, with no warmth left from where Blaine had slept on the other side.
Before falling asleep, I had moved as close to the edge of the bed as I could get without falling off. It was easier to sleep when he didn't touch me. But then I had been woken up a little later to the sensation of being pulled across the sheets. Blaine must have woken up. He maneuvered me a little farther onto the bed. Then, to my complete surprise, tucked the blankets up around me and kissed my forehead.
I had pretended to continue to be asleep, but he sat up by me, stroking my hair for several minutes. Then he kissed me on the cheek and pulled away to lie down on the other side of the bed. He didn't crowd me, or touch me any further. When I finally chanced rolling over to look at him, he was fast asleep, with at least a foot of space between our bodies.
Something inside me had unclenched, unwound, and it was so much easier to relax enough to fall into a deep sleep. I was no longer afraid of twitching and falling off the side of the bed, and I wasn't focused on his unwanted touch or presence. I could, at that moment, close my eyes and pretend I was alone, sleeping in a bed by myself. I could ignore the sound of his breathing or the occasional shifting of the mattress as he moved in his sleep.
It was nice to be able to just lie there and not feel nervous or on edge for a time. It was with that I was able to drift off.
I didn't expect to sleep for nearly as long as I did. And I still felt tired.
It was an effort to force myself out of the warm comforting nest of blankets, but, yawning deeply, I decided it would probably be necessary to get out of bed soon. I sat up, drawing them up around my frame.
I wondered where Blaine was. It was nice to be apart from him, but it didn't mean I couldn't be curious. At first, I didn't notice anything out of place, but a second look proved me wrong. On top of a little writing desk was a silver tray- something I knew hadn't been there last night.
I had to make a choice. Stay warm and covered up in bed while the mystery of the tray gnawed at me, or brave the chilly air on my bare skin and find out what was under the lid.
Giving into my curiosity, not exactly a novel behavior to me, I crawled my way out of the pile of blankets and crossed the room on the tips of my feet, not liking the feel of the cold floor. I looked around, but the only thing out of place really was the tray.
There was no note, so I decided to be industrious and lifted the cover. It seemed someone had left me my breakfast. There was that, at least; I wouldn't go hungry. There was an assortment of different foods laid out: hardboiled eggs, a small vine of green grapes, some kind of cheese cut up into small slices, and two slices of a soft, dark bread. There wasn't any cutlery. It was all food to be eaten with one's hands.
I was marginally surprised by the fact that beside the tray there was also a pitcher of water and a glass. No one was worried I would break the glass? Drop it carelessly? Use the shards to cause myself harm or hurt someone else? Obviously I couldn't be trusted with anything else. Did they think I would stab myself, were I to be given a fork? Or attempt to go after Blaine with it? I rolled my eyes at the thought.
Or was this just one more way of pointing out that I had no worth as a person in their eyes? People ate with forks and spoons and knives. Whereas I should sit cold and naked on the floor and eat with my hands like some sort of dumb beast?
Well, Blaine could forget about that.
I picked up the tray and took it to bed with me, arranging the blankets around me to my satisfaction. As soon as I was cozy and comfortable, I went to work on my breakfast.
"Kurt."
I'm not too proud to admit that I was disappointed when Blaine entered the room whilst I was mid-meal, him smiling at the sight of me still in bed, rather than angry. I expected him to order me to the floor, not great me warmly.
"Oh, good. You're up. And you found your breakfast."
I didn't say anything, watching him through narrowed eyes as he came over to sit on the edge of the bed. Blaine reaching over to my tray to pick up a grape and pressed it to my lips.
I stiffened, ready to protest, or be angry, but last night's dinner had left me wary of refusing him. I let him feed it to me without a fight, and he looked overjoyed by it.
"You're in a good mood today," he mused, plucking another grape from its vine. I shook my head in disagreement, but I didn't fight it, or argue.
I wasn't giving up, I told myself. I was taking a break. I think his lack of reaction to me eating in bed took the fight out of me, the wind leaving my metaphorical sails.
"No?" he said, a mock-sad quality to his voice. "Well maybe when you get up out of bed and into the bathroom to wash up, you'll be in better spirits."
My nose crinkled at the suggestion. Was this his way of telling me that I stank? I would have surreptitiously sniffed myself, but he was right in front of me and there was no way I could sneak it in without being caught. As soon as the thought finished crossing my mind, I felt embarrassed, even though he had no way of knowing what I was thinking.
Last night. Of course. Of course I wanted to bathe after last night. My body was filthy. It was easy to ignore the clawing at the back of my brain that protested my disgust over last night's events. I didn't even know why part of me was determined to enjoy what happened. I didn't want to know.
I blamed my lapse on being too tired. Which I, in turn, attributed to sleeping far too long this morning. That could be blamed on how upset I was last night, and how Blaine had been determined to wear me down. So, really, it was all his fault, anyway.
I took what little solace I could in that conclusion.
"Use what you like from the bathroom. I've got things to do today that I can't have you dragging along behind me for, so I'm leaving you here for the day. You'll have to find a way to entertain yourself." Blaine picked up a piece of cheese and held it up for me as he continued. "I'll set out some clothes for you before I go."
I hesitated to say anything, because I was of the belief that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, but I didn't want him to be angry with me if he caught me doing something I shouldn't be up to. And it wasn't just that I didn't want to be punished. For some bizarre reason, I didn't want him angry with me. Simple as that.
"Am I allowed to read your books?" I asked, unable to push down all of the hope I felt that he would say yes.
I hadn't seen too many books in Blaine's quarters, but there was a small and sturdy-looking bookcase on the far wall, filled with books. It was hard to tell in a room that was regularly cleaned, as there was no dust to judge by, but they certainly looked as though they got a decent amount of use.
Blaine looked unsure, frowning at me in response. "There's not many pictures in them," he said hesitantly.
"I can read!" I said, a good deal offended.
Blaine was clearly stunned. "Oh."
He really was shocked that I could read. I almost felt sorry for him, that something as simple as hearing that I could read could shake him. Almost.
"Well, as long as you take good care of them," he said with a half-hearted shrug, still bug-eyed, "then yes. Put them back where you find them when you're done."
I couldn't help myself. I smiled. I actually smiled at him, my hands clasping together in excitement.
His expression softened, his surprise lessening as he watched my exuberance manifest in a squirm. I regretted my actions when he put a hand around the back of my neck to pull down my head to reach his lips to my forehead. Then he put his hand under my chin and tilted my head far enough back to kiss my mouth.
He didn't deepen it or draw it out, but something about it caused a fiery warmth course through my veins.
"A servant will be by to drop off your lunch this afternoon." Blaine drew back, a soft smile on his lips. He ducked his head and fed me another grape. "Make sure you eat it all."
It took more willpower than it should have to stop me from sucking his finger into my mouth. In fact, it shouldn't have taken any willpower at all. That thought, that want, that desire should never have entered my mind at all. Not ever.
He didn't notice my inner struggle, nor my obvious discomfort. Or if he did, he didn't pay it any mind. Blaine got up off the bed and brushed his hands against each other, like he was trying to free them from nonexistent crumbs.
Blaine went to his closet to pull out clothing for me to wear again today. It didn't take him long. When he came back out, Blaine paused by a bedpost, setting the small stack of clothes at the foot of the bed.
"What?" I asked. He was staring at me intently enough to make me uncomfortable.
"Kurt, don't make me regret trusting you alone today." His tone suddenly wasn't quite so nice, so light. It wasn't mean, but it was cold and serious.
The warmth I felt was gone, replaced with ice.
"Behave yourself today. Stay in my rooms and don't cause any trouble. I think you know what's on the line if you can't control yourself."
I remembered his mother's words last night. The fact that she wanted to send me off for some proper training. The fact that his father hadn't objected to the idea, and would probably need only nominal persuading to agree to it.
I thought about the different ways Blaine could punish me if I stepped too far past the line, as I was likely to do one of these days. The fact that there might be other times he would need to leave me in his rooms for a time, and what he could do to me to ensure I didn't step a single toe out of line.
These thoughts worried me, but even worse were the thoughts of what I could get up to on my own, the fact that I might have the chance and the capability to end all my problems for good. It wouldn't take too much, I figured. But the thought of bleeding myself out disgusted me, and the thought of trying to rig a way to hang myself seemed too complex.
Worst of all, it was the thought of my mother's disapproving face, what she would have looked like if I were to seriously consider ending my life. The many ways it could go wrong if I even tried were too apparent, like the fact that anyone could walk in on me at any time, or that I could be unsuccessful. There was also the fact that being taken away from my sister was bad enough; I didn't need to make it any more permanent than it already was.
I nodded. "I'll behave," I said honestly.
Blaine cracked half a smile in my direction. "Good boy," he said.
He sounded so condescending that, even through my nerves, I felt a surge of irritation. Blaine came up to me and leaned in to kiss the top of my head, his fingers coming up to toy with my hair after. I couldn't entirely hold back a sneer, not that he seemed to notice.
"I'll see you later this afternoon." He smoothed my hair down, an amused glint bright in his eyes.
And he was gone, with the close of the door, and the deafening sound of the lock clicking.
Knowing I wasn't allowed to leave would have been stifling enough. But being physically locked into the room felt positively suffocating.
I hung my head in my hands, palms pressed to my cheeks and covering my eyes, willing myself to keep breathing evenly, telling myself that I wasn't going to leave anyway. I told myself that the door had probably been locked while I was eating my breakfast; this wasn't any different from then.
Surprisingly, that helped a little. At least enough for me to lift my head and stare down at the tray in front of me. I had eaten most of the food already. Figuring it would be a while until someone brought me my next meal, I decided to save the rest for later.
I got out of bed and brought the tray with me, deciding that I'd been lounging about for too long. I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, then set the tray down on a small, nearby table.
I didn't even have to look around to notice that something was out of sorts in the room.
How could I have possibly been so tired as not to notice anyone bringing it in?
Against a wall, where there had once been a freestanding towel rack, was a vanity, its surface littered with a multitude of little glass jars and several bottles of various sizes. Cautiously, I walked over to it and looked it over. I couldn't hold back a pleased smile when I saw what everything was.
There were skin crèmes and lotions to one side, and hair products off to another. In the center sat a few fancy-looking bottles of colognes and perfumes. Ignoring my nakedness, I drew the bench out and perched atop it, opening the drawers with an eagerness that would have surprised me, had I not been so focused on finding out what else might be secreted away in the vanity.
In one drawer was several different combs and brushes of varying shapes and made from different materials. Another held an array of facial cleansers and scrubs. Another had cotton balls and cloths to use, some soft, some more abrasive. There was also an entire drawer devoted to nail care for both hands and feet, and I even found a pumice stone stuffed in the back.
I couldn't hold myself back. I had to touch everything. I opened bottles and smelled their contents, I ran my hands over the different cloths. I trailed my fingers down the bristles of the brushes and inspected the different combs. I even scratched at the palm of one of my hands with the pumice, so excited at all the different products and materials used in their making.
I knew, I knew, intellectually, that this fell somewhere between bribery for my affections and one more way for Blaine to turn me into his pretty little plaything. At the same time, it was exciting. I resented the motives behind it all. Yet, I couldn't quite bring myself to actually resent having all of this to use.
After years of dirty living, I had learned the true value of a hot bath or warm shower, the benefit of soap and shampoo and something with which to brush one's hair. I liked cleanliness. I liked my skin to be soft and touchable, not rough from hard work. I liked to look neat and put-together, and I liked smelling good.
"Would that make you happy?"
Blaine's words came echoing back to me then.
I had asked for this. Or, at least, I had all but asked for it. And he did it to make me happy? Right. More like complacent.
Blaine could have had a few fancy soaps bought for me, with much less cost and much more ease, but he had done this. All of this took planning and forethought. The thought of what this might cost me made my heart sink, but even that couldn't completely erase the pleasure of having so many beauty products at my disposal.
It wasn't until I started to shiver that I realized I had been sitting there too long, that it was rather cool in the room.
It was quite a bit warmer than it had been the first morning I spent here, either due to a change in the weather or the heat being turned up, but it was still not at all warm enough to be sitting around in the nude.
I drew a bath for myself, relishing the thought of getting clean and having a chance to do nothing but relax for a time. It was actually nice.
Beside the tub was some shelving with different bath products packed in. I didn't remember it being quite this full, and when I went to investigate, I saw a number of bottles that were quite obviously brand new.
Being alone, I didn't bother to hold back a smile as I investigated my newest find. Eventually, I settled on a bath salt that smelled of chamomile, preferring something more mild than the peppermint-smelling salts I'd also found.
All I could think was that, at last, I would have a good day for the first time in far too long.
- - - - - - - - -
I spent most of my day in a state of relaxation.
I soaked myself in the bath and washed every inch of my body until I felt clean. I scrubbed at the skin on my body that was dry and dull until it was new again and I nourished it with aloe. I spent time on my hair, fussing with it until I found a few different ways to style it to keep it out of my eyes and off of my face during the day. I tended to my nails, and spent a fair amount of time washing and moisturizing my face.
I must have spent hours in there, but I hardly noticed the time pass.
I dressed in the clothes Blaine left me and lounged around in bed, snacking on my breakfast leftovers and reading some of his books. I barely even noticed the maid who bustled into the room mid-afternoon to leave my lunch.
It was the clanging of the ring of keys at her waist that alerted me to her presence, but she was out of the room even more quickly than she had arrived.
Between the fresh-baked roll that vented steam when I cracked it open and the warm broth left for my meal, my stomach was full and I actually found myself feeling almost content for the first time in what felt like forever.
I was comfortably warm, nestled in a soft bed with an abundance of pillows and a blanket drawn up over my legs. I made it through perhaps half a chapter after lunch before I nodded off, the book closing over my fingers as my eyes slipped shut.
When I finally awoke, it was to the sounds of conversation above my head. I was too tired to focus in on what was being said until I felt the shifting of the mattress as someone sat down beside me.
Blaine. The sharp smell of him invaded my senses as he reached down to ruffle my hair, stroking his fingers against my scalp from forehead to the nape of my neck. I couldn't hold back a hum of pleasure, his nails scratching in a way that sent shivers down straight to my toes.
"Shh," he said, voice soft and soothing to my half-sleeping state, "don't get up." He leaned in to press a kiss against my forehead, but I couldn't help but roll onto my back to look at the other person in the room. I was too curious not to.
"Who-?" I started to ask, my voice thick with sleep, but Blaine placed a hand low on my stomach, his thumb running soft circles against the shirt I wore.
"Don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep."
Something in his tone, his words, the way he was acting, something, struck me as utterly wrong. I was immediately much more alert, trying to sit up. But Blaine's hand slid up to my chest and he held me down, pinning me to the bed.
The stranger reached out and grabbed at my arm nearest to him. I shouted in fear, my voice weak from disuse, and tried to wrench it away from him, but his hold was too strong. I kicked out my legs, but my efforts were hampered by the blanket I'd left tangled up over them. And all too soon, Blaine was straddling my thighs, holding me down.
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Blaine asked the other man, his lips curled up in an angry sneer.
That was when I saw the syringe.
I had no idea what was in it, but the way Blaine was acting didn't bode well for me. What if it was a poison? What if Blaine's mother was too insistent, to determined to send me off for training? Blaine said he would never. What if he was trying to make sure she couldn't send me away?
I had been awoken from my nap suddenly, and the strange man in the room holding a loaded syringe didn't exactly leave me thinking clearly. Or much at all.
I doubled my efforts, screaming and twisting my limbs, trying to dislodge Blaine from atop me, trying to get the man to remove his grip on my forearm.
"Let me go!"
Blaine reached up with his free hand and smacked me across the face.
Taking advantage of my stunned state, too surprised by Blaine's violence to continue to thrash, the man pushed the needle into the crook of my arm and injected me with whatever drug was inside the casing.
As I grew limp in my fear and dismay he released my arm, carefully withdrawing the thin metal from my flesh. The moment I was free of it, I reached up and attempted to claw at his face, fingers curved to bare my nails. Unfortunately, I didn't get far with Blaine still sitting on me, holding me down against the mattress. The stranger laughed and took a step back, easily avoiding my swipes at him.
"Feisty bitch you have there," he said, his voice thick, his tone mocking.
"Shut up," Blaine snapped at him. "If you'd actually done your job right, he wouldn't have even woken up when we got here, let alone had the chance to throw a fit." He looked down at me, obviously somewhat concerned. Blaine pressed a hand to the cheek he had slapped and stroked it in what he probably felt was a reassuring manner. "I hope I didn't hit you too hard."
He hadn't. He'd startled me more than anything. But I wasn't going to tell him that.
"Don't you worry. If he bruises, I got some cream in my kit that'll clear it right up. I throw some in, free o' charge." He smiled, teeth looking sharp and pointed to my eyes.
"How magnanimous of you," Blaine said sarcastically, glowering at the man. Then, sighing as he looked back down at me, he eased himself up and off of my body, but stayed by my side, caressing my scalp with his fingertips once again.
"What was in that?" I asked, fearful of the answer, but too afraid not to ask. My body felt heavy, and I was tired. My heart had been racing due to my fear, but I felt it slowing at a steady rate. All the fight was leaving me, inch by inch. I was still scared, but too tired to react to the emotion.
"Shh," Blaine hushed me. "It was simply a sedative. You're fine. Did you think I was trying to hurt you?"
The bastard was amused.
"The thought crossed my mind," I said. Or, at least, tried to say. I was going to be scathing and disgusted by his brutishness, but my words came out slurred and exhausted.
"Sorry." He didn't particularly sound apologetic about it. "I wanted to get it done without waking you in the first place.
"I told you today would be a big day," he went on. "For the both of us." Blaine's gaze was intense as he touched me, trailing his fingers down the side of my head. He bypassed my ears for once, to my surprise, and was touching my neck instead. His expression softened, staring where his hand met my skin.
It was growing more and more difficult to keep my eyes open. I managed to catch him opening his mouth to speak further, but my eyes closed, and his voice sounded too far away to hear.
The last thing I was consciously aware of was the feel of his mouth on mine, his lips curved up into a pleased smile.
If you want to be kept in-the-know on what's going on with my writing process/when I'm writing/how close I am to updating, you can follow my tumblr and/or twitter accounts. I'm pretty active on Tumblr, but my Twitter is almost entirely me talking about this fic.
So, yeah. Chapter six will either be stupidly long (it's already over 6k words) or it will be split up into two chapters and the chapter count will go up. We'll see. I hope you like this chapter, because I'm at the point where I can't really be objective about any of it, so I really don't know if it's on par with the rest of the story or not.
Thank you for your patience. I have some of the best reviewers ever ♥ and I appreciate every single one of you more than you know.
I'm always open to comments/reviews/con-crit/'you-missed-a-word's.
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,400 / 24,500 [so far]
Summary: AU. Faeries exist, but are a rarity. Slavery, and more specifically, sexual slavery, is a way of life for many people. || When a boy is lucky enough to get his hands on a half-Faerie boy in an auction, he ends up falling too deep into something he doesn't understand. // When a half-Faerie boy is unlucky enough to be sold off in an auction to an ignorant human boy, he is sucked into a life he never wanted and forced to deal with an aspect of his species he didn't know existed.
Warnings/Contains: Non-explicit rape. Explicit dub-con. Slavery/sexual slavery. Fantasy-genre alternate universe. Dark!fic. Magic. Non-human species. PoV switches. General creepiness on Blaine's behalf. A fucked up society. Ear!porn? || More detailed warnings: ( skip) Magic-made-them-do-it, falling in love with your captor/Stockholm syndrome, mentions of torture.
Master Post / Previous Chapters
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any of these characters. I simply dabble in this toybox.
Notes: This was supposed to be chapter seven. It has been finished for two weeks. Chapter six, on the other hand, is only about ¾ of the way done, and doesn't want to be finished. Chapter six was supposed to be up before the hiatus was over. That obviously didn't pan out as planned.
Since these two chapters take place in different timelines, I'm sucking up the fact that my whiny inner perfectionist is going, but it doesn't flow as well! and I'm posting this as chapter six instead. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon since most of it is written already. Sorry about the long wait.
Chapter Specific Warnings: ( skip) Thoughts of suicide, forced sedation/drugging.
three days ago
The first thing that came to my mind when I awoke was, I overslept.
The sun was streaming into the room at such an angle that it was shining directly on my face. It was late in the morning. Or, at least, later than I normally woke up in a morning.
I soon rolled over to get the sun out of my eyes when I realized that it didn't matter. I didn't oversleep, because I had nothing to be awake for. Slowly sitting up, I looked around the room. The bed was empty, with no warmth left from where Blaine had slept on the other side.
Before falling asleep, I had moved as close to the edge of the bed as I could get without falling off. It was easier to sleep when he didn't touch me. But then I had been woken up a little later to the sensation of being pulled across the sheets. Blaine must have woken up. He maneuvered me a little farther onto the bed. Then, to my complete surprise, tucked the blankets up around me and kissed my forehead.
I had pretended to continue to be asleep, but he sat up by me, stroking my hair for several minutes. Then he kissed me on the cheek and pulled away to lie down on the other side of the bed. He didn't crowd me, or touch me any further. When I finally chanced rolling over to look at him, he was fast asleep, with at least a foot of space between our bodies.
Something inside me had unclenched, unwound, and it was so much easier to relax enough to fall into a deep sleep. I was no longer afraid of twitching and falling off the side of the bed, and I wasn't focused on his unwanted touch or presence. I could, at that moment, close my eyes and pretend I was alone, sleeping in a bed by myself. I could ignore the sound of his breathing or the occasional shifting of the mattress as he moved in his sleep.
It was nice to be able to just lie there and not feel nervous or on edge for a time. It was with that I was able to drift off.
I didn't expect to sleep for nearly as long as I did. And I still felt tired.
It was an effort to force myself out of the warm comforting nest of blankets, but, yawning deeply, I decided it would probably be necessary to get out of bed soon. I sat up, drawing them up around my frame.
I wondered where Blaine was. It was nice to be apart from him, but it didn't mean I couldn't be curious. At first, I didn't notice anything out of place, but a second look proved me wrong. On top of a little writing desk was a silver tray- something I knew hadn't been there last night.
I had to make a choice. Stay warm and covered up in bed while the mystery of the tray gnawed at me, or brave the chilly air on my bare skin and find out what was under the lid.
Giving into my curiosity, not exactly a novel behavior to me, I crawled my way out of the pile of blankets and crossed the room on the tips of my feet, not liking the feel of the cold floor. I looked around, but the only thing out of place really was the tray.
There was no note, so I decided to be industrious and lifted the cover. It seemed someone had left me my breakfast. There was that, at least; I wouldn't go hungry. There was an assortment of different foods laid out: hardboiled eggs, a small vine of green grapes, some kind of cheese cut up into small slices, and two slices of a soft, dark bread. There wasn't any cutlery. It was all food to be eaten with one's hands.
I was marginally surprised by the fact that beside the tray there was also a pitcher of water and a glass. No one was worried I would break the glass? Drop it carelessly? Use the shards to cause myself harm or hurt someone else? Obviously I couldn't be trusted with anything else. Did they think I would stab myself, were I to be given a fork? Or attempt to go after Blaine with it? I rolled my eyes at the thought.
Or was this just one more way of pointing out that I had no worth as a person in their eyes? People ate with forks and spoons and knives. Whereas I should sit cold and naked on the floor and eat with my hands like some sort of dumb beast?
Well, Blaine could forget about that.
I picked up the tray and took it to bed with me, arranging the blankets around me to my satisfaction. As soon as I was cozy and comfortable, I went to work on my breakfast.
"Kurt."
I'm not too proud to admit that I was disappointed when Blaine entered the room whilst I was mid-meal, him smiling at the sight of me still in bed, rather than angry. I expected him to order me to the floor, not great me warmly.
"Oh, good. You're up. And you found your breakfast."
I didn't say anything, watching him through narrowed eyes as he came over to sit on the edge of the bed. Blaine reaching over to my tray to pick up a grape and pressed it to my lips.
I stiffened, ready to protest, or be angry, but last night's dinner had left me wary of refusing him. I let him feed it to me without a fight, and he looked overjoyed by it.
"You're in a good mood today," he mused, plucking another grape from its vine. I shook my head in disagreement, but I didn't fight it, or argue.
I wasn't giving up, I told myself. I was taking a break. I think his lack of reaction to me eating in bed took the fight out of me, the wind leaving my metaphorical sails.
"No?" he said, a mock-sad quality to his voice. "Well maybe when you get up out of bed and into the bathroom to wash up, you'll be in better spirits."
My nose crinkled at the suggestion. Was this his way of telling me that I stank? I would have surreptitiously sniffed myself, but he was right in front of me and there was no way I could sneak it in without being caught. As soon as the thought finished crossing my mind, I felt embarrassed, even though he had no way of knowing what I was thinking.
Last night. Of course. Of course I wanted to bathe after last night. My body was filthy. It was easy to ignore the clawing at the back of my brain that protested my disgust over last night's events. I didn't even know why part of me was determined to enjoy what happened. I didn't want to know.
I blamed my lapse on being too tired. Which I, in turn, attributed to sleeping far too long this morning. That could be blamed on how upset I was last night, and how Blaine had been determined to wear me down. So, really, it was all his fault, anyway.
I took what little solace I could in that conclusion.
"Use what you like from the bathroom. I've got things to do today that I can't have you dragging along behind me for, so I'm leaving you here for the day. You'll have to find a way to entertain yourself." Blaine picked up a piece of cheese and held it up for me as he continued. "I'll set out some clothes for you before I go."
I hesitated to say anything, because I was of the belief that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, but I didn't want him to be angry with me if he caught me doing something I shouldn't be up to. And it wasn't just that I didn't want to be punished. For some bizarre reason, I didn't want him angry with me. Simple as that.
"Am I allowed to read your books?" I asked, unable to push down all of the hope I felt that he would say yes.
I hadn't seen too many books in Blaine's quarters, but there was a small and sturdy-looking bookcase on the far wall, filled with books. It was hard to tell in a room that was regularly cleaned, as there was no dust to judge by, but they certainly looked as though they got a decent amount of use.
Blaine looked unsure, frowning at me in response. "There's not many pictures in them," he said hesitantly.
"I can read!" I said, a good deal offended.
Blaine was clearly stunned. "Oh."
He really was shocked that I could read. I almost felt sorry for him, that something as simple as hearing that I could read could shake him. Almost.
"Well, as long as you take good care of them," he said with a half-hearted shrug, still bug-eyed, "then yes. Put them back where you find them when you're done."
I couldn't help myself. I smiled. I actually smiled at him, my hands clasping together in excitement.
His expression softened, his surprise lessening as he watched my exuberance manifest in a squirm. I regretted my actions when he put a hand around the back of my neck to pull down my head to reach his lips to my forehead. Then he put his hand under my chin and tilted my head far enough back to kiss my mouth.
He didn't deepen it or draw it out, but something about it caused a fiery warmth course through my veins.
"A servant will be by to drop off your lunch this afternoon." Blaine drew back, a soft smile on his lips. He ducked his head and fed me another grape. "Make sure you eat it all."
It took more willpower than it should have to stop me from sucking his finger into my mouth. In fact, it shouldn't have taken any willpower at all. That thought, that want, that desire should never have entered my mind at all. Not ever.
He didn't notice my inner struggle, nor my obvious discomfort. Or if he did, he didn't pay it any mind. Blaine got up off the bed and brushed his hands against each other, like he was trying to free them from nonexistent crumbs.
Blaine went to his closet to pull out clothing for me to wear again today. It didn't take him long. When he came back out, Blaine paused by a bedpost, setting the small stack of clothes at the foot of the bed.
"What?" I asked. He was staring at me intently enough to make me uncomfortable.
"Kurt, don't make me regret trusting you alone today." His tone suddenly wasn't quite so nice, so light. It wasn't mean, but it was cold and serious.
The warmth I felt was gone, replaced with ice.
"Behave yourself today. Stay in my rooms and don't cause any trouble. I think you know what's on the line if you can't control yourself."
I remembered his mother's words last night. The fact that she wanted to send me off for some proper training. The fact that his father hadn't objected to the idea, and would probably need only nominal persuading to agree to it.
I thought about the different ways Blaine could punish me if I stepped too far past the line, as I was likely to do one of these days. The fact that there might be other times he would need to leave me in his rooms for a time, and what he could do to me to ensure I didn't step a single toe out of line.
These thoughts worried me, but even worse were the thoughts of what I could get up to on my own, the fact that I might have the chance and the capability to end all my problems for good. It wouldn't take too much, I figured. But the thought of bleeding myself out disgusted me, and the thought of trying to rig a way to hang myself seemed too complex.
Worst of all, it was the thought of my mother's disapproving face, what she would have looked like if I were to seriously consider ending my life. The many ways it could go wrong if I even tried were too apparent, like the fact that anyone could walk in on me at any time, or that I could be unsuccessful. There was also the fact that being taken away from my sister was bad enough; I didn't need to make it any more permanent than it already was.
I nodded. "I'll behave," I said honestly.
Blaine cracked half a smile in my direction. "Good boy," he said.
He sounded so condescending that, even through my nerves, I felt a surge of irritation. Blaine came up to me and leaned in to kiss the top of my head, his fingers coming up to toy with my hair after. I couldn't entirely hold back a sneer, not that he seemed to notice.
"I'll see you later this afternoon." He smoothed my hair down, an amused glint bright in his eyes.
And he was gone, with the close of the door, and the deafening sound of the lock clicking.
Knowing I wasn't allowed to leave would have been stifling enough. But being physically locked into the room felt positively suffocating.
I hung my head in my hands, palms pressed to my cheeks and covering my eyes, willing myself to keep breathing evenly, telling myself that I wasn't going to leave anyway. I told myself that the door had probably been locked while I was eating my breakfast; this wasn't any different from then.
Surprisingly, that helped a little. At least enough for me to lift my head and stare down at the tray in front of me. I had eaten most of the food already. Figuring it would be a while until someone brought me my next meal, I decided to save the rest for later.
I got out of bed and brought the tray with me, deciding that I'd been lounging about for too long. I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, then set the tray down on a small, nearby table.
I didn't even have to look around to notice that something was out of sorts in the room.
How could I have possibly been so tired as not to notice anyone bringing it in?
Against a wall, where there had once been a freestanding towel rack, was a vanity, its surface littered with a multitude of little glass jars and several bottles of various sizes. Cautiously, I walked over to it and looked it over. I couldn't hold back a pleased smile when I saw what everything was.
There were skin crèmes and lotions to one side, and hair products off to another. In the center sat a few fancy-looking bottles of colognes and perfumes. Ignoring my nakedness, I drew the bench out and perched atop it, opening the drawers with an eagerness that would have surprised me, had I not been so focused on finding out what else might be secreted away in the vanity.
In one drawer was several different combs and brushes of varying shapes and made from different materials. Another held an array of facial cleansers and scrubs. Another had cotton balls and cloths to use, some soft, some more abrasive. There was also an entire drawer devoted to nail care for both hands and feet, and I even found a pumice stone stuffed in the back.
I couldn't hold myself back. I had to touch everything. I opened bottles and smelled their contents, I ran my hands over the different cloths. I trailed my fingers down the bristles of the brushes and inspected the different combs. I even scratched at the palm of one of my hands with the pumice, so excited at all the different products and materials used in their making.
I knew, I knew, intellectually, that this fell somewhere between bribery for my affections and one more way for Blaine to turn me into his pretty little plaything. At the same time, it was exciting. I resented the motives behind it all. Yet, I couldn't quite bring myself to actually resent having all of this to use.
After years of dirty living, I had learned the true value of a hot bath or warm shower, the benefit of soap and shampoo and something with which to brush one's hair. I liked cleanliness. I liked my skin to be soft and touchable, not rough from hard work. I liked to look neat and put-together, and I liked smelling good.
"Would that make you happy?"
Blaine's words came echoing back to me then.
I had asked for this. Or, at least, I had all but asked for it. And he did it to make me happy? Right. More like complacent.
Blaine could have had a few fancy soaps bought for me, with much less cost and much more ease, but he had done this. All of this took planning and forethought. The thought of what this might cost me made my heart sink, but even that couldn't completely erase the pleasure of having so many beauty products at my disposal.
It wasn't until I started to shiver that I realized I had been sitting there too long, that it was rather cool in the room.
It was quite a bit warmer than it had been the first morning I spent here, either due to a change in the weather or the heat being turned up, but it was still not at all warm enough to be sitting around in the nude.
I drew a bath for myself, relishing the thought of getting clean and having a chance to do nothing but relax for a time. It was actually nice.
Beside the tub was some shelving with different bath products packed in. I didn't remember it being quite this full, and when I went to investigate, I saw a number of bottles that were quite obviously brand new.
Being alone, I didn't bother to hold back a smile as I investigated my newest find. Eventually, I settled on a bath salt that smelled of chamomile, preferring something more mild than the peppermint-smelling salts I'd also found.
All I could think was that, at last, I would have a good day for the first time in far too long.
- - - - - - - - -
I spent most of my day in a state of relaxation.
I soaked myself in the bath and washed every inch of my body until I felt clean. I scrubbed at the skin on my body that was dry and dull until it was new again and I nourished it with aloe. I spent time on my hair, fussing with it until I found a few different ways to style it to keep it out of my eyes and off of my face during the day. I tended to my nails, and spent a fair amount of time washing and moisturizing my face.
I must have spent hours in there, but I hardly noticed the time pass.
I dressed in the clothes Blaine left me and lounged around in bed, snacking on my breakfast leftovers and reading some of his books. I barely even noticed the maid who bustled into the room mid-afternoon to leave my lunch.
It was the clanging of the ring of keys at her waist that alerted me to her presence, but she was out of the room even more quickly than she had arrived.
Between the fresh-baked roll that vented steam when I cracked it open and the warm broth left for my meal, my stomach was full and I actually found myself feeling almost content for the first time in what felt like forever.
I was comfortably warm, nestled in a soft bed with an abundance of pillows and a blanket drawn up over my legs. I made it through perhaps half a chapter after lunch before I nodded off, the book closing over my fingers as my eyes slipped shut.
When I finally awoke, it was to the sounds of conversation above my head. I was too tired to focus in on what was being said until I felt the shifting of the mattress as someone sat down beside me.
Blaine. The sharp smell of him invaded my senses as he reached down to ruffle my hair, stroking his fingers against my scalp from forehead to the nape of my neck. I couldn't hold back a hum of pleasure, his nails scratching in a way that sent shivers down straight to my toes.
"Shh," he said, voice soft and soothing to my half-sleeping state, "don't get up." He leaned in to press a kiss against my forehead, but I couldn't help but roll onto my back to look at the other person in the room. I was too curious not to.
"Who-?" I started to ask, my voice thick with sleep, but Blaine placed a hand low on my stomach, his thumb running soft circles against the shirt I wore.
"Don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep."
Something in his tone, his words, the way he was acting, something, struck me as utterly wrong. I was immediately much more alert, trying to sit up. But Blaine's hand slid up to my chest and he held me down, pinning me to the bed.
The stranger reached out and grabbed at my arm nearest to him. I shouted in fear, my voice weak from disuse, and tried to wrench it away from him, but his hold was too strong. I kicked out my legs, but my efforts were hampered by the blanket I'd left tangled up over them. And all too soon, Blaine was straddling my thighs, holding me down.
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Blaine asked the other man, his lips curled up in an angry sneer.
That was when I saw the syringe.
I had no idea what was in it, but the way Blaine was acting didn't bode well for me. What if it was a poison? What if Blaine's mother was too insistent, to determined to send me off for training? Blaine said he would never. What if he was trying to make sure she couldn't send me away?
I had been awoken from my nap suddenly, and the strange man in the room holding a loaded syringe didn't exactly leave me thinking clearly. Or much at all.
I doubled my efforts, screaming and twisting my limbs, trying to dislodge Blaine from atop me, trying to get the man to remove his grip on my forearm.
"Let me go!"
Blaine reached up with his free hand and smacked me across the face.
Taking advantage of my stunned state, too surprised by Blaine's violence to continue to thrash, the man pushed the needle into the crook of my arm and injected me with whatever drug was inside the casing.
As I grew limp in my fear and dismay he released my arm, carefully withdrawing the thin metal from my flesh. The moment I was free of it, I reached up and attempted to claw at his face, fingers curved to bare my nails. Unfortunately, I didn't get far with Blaine still sitting on me, holding me down against the mattress. The stranger laughed and took a step back, easily avoiding my swipes at him.
"Feisty bitch you have there," he said, his voice thick, his tone mocking.
"Shut up," Blaine snapped at him. "If you'd actually done your job right, he wouldn't have even woken up when we got here, let alone had the chance to throw a fit." He looked down at me, obviously somewhat concerned. Blaine pressed a hand to the cheek he had slapped and stroked it in what he probably felt was a reassuring manner. "I hope I didn't hit you too hard."
He hadn't. He'd startled me more than anything. But I wasn't going to tell him that.
"Don't you worry. If he bruises, I got some cream in my kit that'll clear it right up. I throw some in, free o' charge." He smiled, teeth looking sharp and pointed to my eyes.
"How magnanimous of you," Blaine said sarcastically, glowering at the man. Then, sighing as he looked back down at me, he eased himself up and off of my body, but stayed by my side, caressing my scalp with his fingertips once again.
"What was in that?" I asked, fearful of the answer, but too afraid not to ask. My body felt heavy, and I was tired. My heart had been racing due to my fear, but I felt it slowing at a steady rate. All the fight was leaving me, inch by inch. I was still scared, but too tired to react to the emotion.
"Shh," Blaine hushed me. "It was simply a sedative. You're fine. Did you think I was trying to hurt you?"
The bastard was amused.
"The thought crossed my mind," I said. Or, at least, tried to say. I was going to be scathing and disgusted by his brutishness, but my words came out slurred and exhausted.
"Sorry." He didn't particularly sound apologetic about it. "I wanted to get it done without waking you in the first place.
"I told you today would be a big day," he went on. "For the both of us." Blaine's gaze was intense as he touched me, trailing his fingers down the side of my head. He bypassed my ears for once, to my surprise, and was touching my neck instead. His expression softened, staring where his hand met my skin.
It was growing more and more difficult to keep my eyes open. I managed to catch him opening his mouth to speak further, but my eyes closed, and his voice sounded too far away to hear.
The last thing I was consciously aware of was the feel of his mouth on mine, his lips curved up into a pleased smile.
If you want to be kept in-the-know on what's going on with my writing process/when I'm writing/how close I am to updating, you can follow my tumblr and/or twitter accounts. I'm pretty active on Tumblr, but my Twitter is almost entirely me talking about this fic.
So, yeah. Chapter six will either be stupidly long (it's already over 6k words) or it will be split up into two chapters and the chapter count will go up. We'll see. I hope you like this chapter, because I'm at the point where I can't really be objective about any of it, so I really don't know if it's on par with the rest of the story or not.
Thank you for your patience. I have some of the best reviewers ever ♥ and I appreciate every single one of you more than you know.
I'm always open to comments/reviews/con-crit/'you-missed-a-word's.