FIC: GLEE: Blaine/Kurt - Put Your Hands on Me (and magic sparks) - (NC-17) - [WiP] 4/10?
Title: Put Your Hands on Me (and magic sparks) 4/10? [WiP]
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,787 / 20,100 [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.
four days ago
"Are you still cold?"
I didn't look up. I wasn't fooled by Blaine's gentle tone; I was sharp enough to know that he didn't hold any real concern for how I felt. He'd proved that much this morning.
Uncaring how sullen it made me look, I wrapped my arms around my legs, knees tucked up under my chin, and stared out the window. The view was depressingly devoid of life. It had snowed the night before, and the ground was covered in a layer of white. No grass, no leaves, no animals scurrying around and scrounging for food, no birds.
No birds.
Blaine's pen ceased its incessant scratching, and then I heard the sound of his chair scraping across the floor.
I wasn't surprised when I felt his presence hovering behind me, the heat of his body warming the air between us. I looked up and saw a reflection of him in the glass.
When he reached out, his touch didn't startle me, but I flinched away in disgust anyway. He placed his hand more firmly on my shoulder and squeezed.
"Are you cold?" he asked me again, more pointedly this time. It was plain that he expected me to give him a response, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
I'd rather suffer in silence.
Unfortunately, as I shifted across the window seat to move closer to the pane, my body betrayed me with a shiver. His fingers tightened, probably in irritation at how little I was cooperating, and he did something that surprised me.
I really don't know what I was expecting from him. This sort of behavior I was displaying hadn't been tolerated by my previous owner; I would have been punished by the housekeeper ten times over had I acted like this back home.
Then again, I was also always warm and comfortable back home, with no one demanding horrific things of my person, and with my sister always there beside me. I felt I was owed a little leniency.
Though, a decidedly morbid part of me was curious to find out what Blaine would do if I tested the limits of his patience long enough. I wasn't foolish enough, nor naïve enough, to think he could do no worse to me than what he'd already done. What I'd endured that morning was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. That didn't mean it couldn't get worse. It could always get worse.
Wary of punishment, I expected him to strike out at me. Or, considering he hadn't hit me thus far, I thought perhaps he would cajole me into responding. What I hadn't expected was for him to walk out of the room, leaving me there on my own. Which was precisely what he then did.
I looked around the room in confusion, wondering if I was supposed to just stay here by myself, or if he had counted on me following him. Being left alone like this in one of the numerous rooms in this house was, well. It was uncomfortable.
If he had abandoned me in his bedroom, it would have been fine. The bathroom was right there, and so was the bed. Not that I had any desire to climb back into it any time soon, but at least then I could warm myself under the blankets. I didn't know how to find my way around the manor, and I didn't want to poke my nose where it wasn't allowed in my clumsy attempts to find my way back.
I hugged my legs more tightly and went back to watching the grounds outside the window.
Lost in my own mind, I didn't hear Blaine's return to the study. In fact, I didn't notice him at all until he was dropping a thick, luxuriously soft blanket over my shoulders.
I'm ashamed to admit that I jumped and lost my grace for that moment. If not for his steadying hands, I would have fallen backwards, right onto the floor.
"Careful now," he murmured into my ear. His warm breath tickled, and I ducked my head to rub my ear against my shoulder to rub away the sensation.
Blaine laughed at me.
"I thought Faeries were supposed to be graceful," he mocked.
"You startled me," I said, giving him a cold look. The effect was ruined, I'm sure, by the way my fingers tugged at the blanket he had gifted me with, pulling it tight around my frame.
His expression could almost have been called tender at that point, especially taking in the way he sifted my hair through his fingers.
"It speaks!" he said with far more cheer in his voice than was warranted by the situation. My look only grew icier.
Pleased by the discomfited look he adopted, I turned away to stare back out the window.
'It'. He called me 'it'.
Blaine kissed the back of my neck, obviously ignoring how uncomfortable I was due to the attention. I was loath to call it affection, because I was doubtful there was any real emotion behind his actions apart from lust.
"Don't," I snapped. I didn't think he would stop, but it wouldn't feel right not to protest.
Blaine tugged on my hair almost to the point of pain, pulling my head back to bare my neck, and bit my ear.
"Stop," I tried again. Unfortunately, it came out sounding more like a moan than cold and severe. It wasn't fair that my body continually betrayed me this way when it came to him.
"Ask me nicely," he said, moving his mouth down to my neck, speaking into my skin.
In that moment, I thought for certain I was going to be sick all over the perfectly lovely hand-stitched upholstery of the window seat.
"Please stop," I whispered. I couldn't make myself any louder than that. I was barely able to choke out those words at all. "Please stop." It was marginally easier the second time around.
Blaine hesitantly pulled back and ran his fingers through my hair to straighten the mess of it he'd made.
"Please stop. Please, please stop."
The same words kept spilling from my mouth.
Blaine froze. He extracted his hands from my hair, gentle enough not to pull, and he took a step back, giving me space to breath. I hadn't realized I'd stopped.
I gasped in a breath once, twice, three times. I started to cough on the third rough inhale and the sudden pain in my chest woke me from... from whatever that was.
Unfolding my legs out from under me, I stood, dropping the blanket on the seat behind me. My balance was off and I wobbled a little, but still I stood until I steadied.
The second I felt the strength return to my legs, I stepped forward, crowding Blaine.
"I am not some doll you can pluck off a shelf and play with," I said in the nastiest tone I could muster. "I am a person. A piece of paper covered in legal jargon doesn't make me any less a person. I'm not your toy."
Breathing heavily, looking down my nose at him, I felt tall and strong and, for the first time in too long, I felt like I had some badly-needed control.
At least, I felt that way until I registered the indulgent look on Blaine's face. He was smiling at me like I was a recalcitrant child who was to be humored and indulged in until they ran out of steam.
"Are you finished?" he asked me.
I weighed my options, and decided on the safer of the two ways this could go. Instead of fighting back, I shrunk back and sat down on the ledge, looking anywhere but at him.
"Yes," I said dully, the fight leaving me.
"It's okay, Kurt," he said kindly. "You'll get used to it soon enough. I know things must be different here than how they were with your last owner, but I promise, you'll get used to it." It was the kindness that made his words hurt so much.
"No." I shook my head, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.
"You will." Blaine stepped forward and tipped my chin up to face him with two curved fingers. He didn't say a word until I opened my eyes. Then he spoke: "I've seen it before with other pets. You just need a little time."
I shook my head again, knocking his fingers out from under my jaw without trying.
"Yes," he said more firmly, though no less kind than before. "Kurt," he then said, sounding much more serious. "You can't act out like that again. And I can't allow you to get away with acting out like this without some form of punishment."
My fingers clenched into fists, which I then had to fight to relax. I didn't want him to think I was going to fly off the handle and hit him, or something else equally foolhardy. I was in enough trouble as it was.
"I apologize," I shot out immediately, my voice wooden and lifeless. He stared at me, contemplating, I'm sure, what to do with his insubordinate pet.
"I still have work to do," he said at last. "The tailor will be here in a few hours and I don't need any more interruptions from you."
Horrified, and all-but certain he was going to do something awful to me, like gag my mouth and tie me up, or lock me in a closet, or worse, I stared up with wide, hurt eyes. I didn't actually think he would show me any sympathy, but I assumed it wouldn't do any harm to try and look vulnerable either.
"In the corner," he said, pointing to a corner near his desk where he would easily be able to keep an eye on me.
I didn't move, uncomprehending his meaning.
"Up. Now," he ordered, looking displeased at having to repeat himself.
I complied, standing back up and going to the corner. I turned to face him, question plain on my face.
"Turn around. Nose to the corner. You'll stand there until I'm finished with my paper, or until the tailor arrives to take your measurements."
I turned to face the walls and indulged myself in making a face. Did he think I was a small child? I hadn't been punished in this method since I was very small. Brih'tt'ny and I would torture each other with poking fights or pulling each other's hair until someone, usually the cook, got annoyed enough to send us to separate corners. It never stopped us from sneaking dirty looks at one another when no one was watching, but it was usually a boring enough punishment to teach us a lesson for at least a couple days.
I scoffed inwardly at the idea of this being a punishment, but I wasn't going to complain. If Blaine wanted to treat me with kid gloves, then all the better for me. I would take standing in a corner over the housekeeper boxing my ears any day.
Blaine took up his place at the desk again; the seat was on the squeaky side, and he didn't seem to know how to lift a chair rather than drag it across the floor. Soon, I heard the skritch-scratch of his pen once more.
It wasn't long before I found myself missing my window, no matter how dull and lifeless the view had been. At least there I had something to look at. Then, I began to miss the blanket Blaine had procured for me. The clothes he had given me to wear this morning were soft and comfortable, but on the thin side. I was accustomed to soft, thick socks and sweaters, not flimsy sleep pants and itchy socks made from man-made materials.
I simply wasn't used to this pervasive cold that seeped into my bones. I grew up in a house that belonged to an old man who felt the cold almost as much as myself or my sister. As long as I stayed indoors, the winters were always tolerable; they didn't leave me miserable and constantly chilled the way I felt here.
Brih'tt'ny and I would spend most of our days helping out in the kitchen, warmed by the ovens and stove which constantly working, constantly feeding extra heat into the room. Even if we were given time to spend for ourselves, we would often sit at the counter, nibbling on the hot, fresh-baked bread rolls Cook would slip us to keep our mouths occupied. Sometimes, if given permission, I would spend the afternoon in the library, curled up in an armchair next to the radiator.
I never had to worry about keeping warm back home. Even if it was a particularly cold day and the heating system couldn't keep up, my sister and I would bundle up in bed together, napping and telling each other stories. It didn't matter if it was Brih'tt'ny's stories about what the stable master and cook were supposedly getting up to in their spare time, or my stories from books I'd recently read, or our own private, made-up stories about what our parents must have been like.
Sometimes, we would spend the entire day like that. Our record was three days. It was during a terrible chill that lasted for days when we finally broke out into a meaningless fight, our tempers frayed from too much time alone together. Brih'tt'ny left with her feelings hurt and spent the rest of the day with the cook's son, Finn. Meanwhile, I spent the day in the stable with the horses, warmed by their presence and the friendly company of the stable master.
He was always kind to me, kinder than most. To Brih'tt'ny as well. He never treated us like we were less. He treated us as though we weren't any different than two fully human children. He taught me all about horses, too. I loved to spend my summer afternoons grooming them, and they had taken to me immediately. Including the ornery old horse who didn't like anyone. Even the stable master had a hard time with keeping him settled enough to exercise and groom him.
He was always sweet as a foal around me, playful and friendly and always poking his nose in my pockets expecting a treat.
I never said it out loud, a silly, sentimental part of me not wanting the other horses to hear, but he was my favorite. It was always a good feeling to know that I could walk into the stable and find him waiting for me, always happy to see me, never seeing me for anything but a person. A friend.
Lost in my memories of home, it took me a while to notice the ache that was building in the small of my back, between my legs. The longer I stood, the more the discomfort grew.
Blaine had been very careful with me that morning, but that didn't make up for the fact that I had been tense and uncomfortable throughout the entire act. It didn't make up for anything, really, but the most relevant matter at that moment was that I was still feeling sore, no matter how gentle he had tried to be.
As soon as I acknowledged my discomfort, the more acutely I felt it. My muscles were tense and I felt restless, wanting to walk around to loosen up. The more tense I grew, the more sharp the pain became. It was tolerable, but the thought of standing here like this for another hour or more was a nightmare.
I spared a glace over to where Blaine was sitting, working steadily on whatever it was he had to do. Work for school, I thought, but he hadn't actually said.
"Turn back around." His words were lazy and tinged with amusement. I scowled, but obeyed, not wanting to give him reason to add to my punishment. I leaned my forehead against the two walls and wrapped my arms across my chest to ward off the cold.
Bastard.
- - - - - - - - -
I was immensely grateful when Blaine, at last, permitted me to leave my corner.
"How long...?" I asked, forcing myself to sound meek and timid under his stare.
Blaine tugged me over towards him and held me against his chest, leaving soft kisses across my jawline. I endured the touch without complaint, but didn't do anything to encourage it. I didn't want him to think I was going to roll over and beg for his touch because he was showing a little kindness after punishing me.
"Two, two-and-a-half hours?" he said, brushing my hair out of my face with his fingers.
Then again, perhaps a little clinginess could work in my favor. I dropped my head to his shoulder and leaned in a little closer against his body, smiling to myself at how pleased he seemed by my actions.
"You know I let you off easy, don't you?" Blaine asked me, his tone serious and not betraying his obvious pleasure at my closeness. It didn't stop him from drawing a hand up and down the center of my back as he spoke.
I murmured in assent, toying with the buttons on his shirt.
"You can't act up like that again, Kurt. I-" he stifled a gasp as I stroked my palm across his stomach, "-I won't be so... so lenient. Next time." Blaine grabbed my hand, pulling it away from his chest. "Stop that," he said, aggrieved at having to halt my touch.
"Sorry," I said innocently. "May I please go lie down?" I drew back away from him and gave him a sad look, one that usually even worked on the cranky old housekeeper when I was pushing my luck with her.
"Are you sore?" Blaine asked, letting go of my hand.
Sheepish, I nodded. I couldn't be sure that it was the right move to admit it or not. He might count it as being part of my punishment, but he seemed to think himself the compassionate sort. I was hedging my bets; if I admitted that I felt sore from standing in the corner, he might just take pity on me.
"Cold, too," I admitted when he looked unsure whether to grant my request or not.
Slowly nodding at my confession, Blaine nodded over towards the window.
"Come on," he said, pushing me in that direction by my shoulders. He led me back to my window and pushed the pillows around it against the glass, leaving two at one end for me to rest my head on. "Up you get," he said, applying pressure to the space between my shoulder blades.
I had hoped he would let me go back to his room to curl up in bed, but the window seat was big and had certainly been quite comfortable to sit on earlier. Swallowing my disappointment, I crawled up onto the ledge and stretched my legs out. I rolled onto my side and breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of pain subsiding.
Wanting the blanket, I flung out my arm to try and find it without having to turn over to see it, but Blaine beat me to it. I hadn't realized I'd been half lying on it. He tugged it out from under me and, for a second, I thought he was going to tuck me in.
Instead, he dropped the blanket on top of me and gave me a strange look.
"Don't fall asleep," he said, then turned away from me. "You still need to be fitted and then we'll have lunch." Blaine pulled a watch from his pocket and checked it. "There might be time for you to take a nap later if you need to, but today is going to be a busy day."
My tired limbs fought with the blanket, trying to untangle the mess of it lying across my hip. Eventually, I had it stretched out across my body, tucked under my feet to warm them.
It was a struggle to stay awake. I was warm and cozy, the cushioning under me plush and comfortable. I wasn't sure if I had nodded off or not, but if I had, then it was a very light sleep.
I was instantly alert and aware when someone knocked on the door and then entered the study. It was a maid, young and with an earnest face. She spoke with Blaine for a moment, then made her exit without ever looking at me once.
I was used to being invisible.
It just never seemed to hurt any less.
I sat up, not wanting to push down the warm blanket, but not wanting Blaine to catch me sleeping after I had been told not to. Because, according to the position of the sun, I had not been lying there for half an hour trying not to doze.
I surreptitiously wiped the sleep from my eyes, but by the smirk on Blaine's face when he came over to me moments later, he knew I'd not done as he asked. I looked away from him - not down, but away - unsure if he would be angry with me. I didn't especially care about doing what he wanted, but disobeying him right after finishing up a punishment wasn't exactly smart, either.
"Come on," he said with a smile. I guessed he was in a good mood. "Time to get your measurements taken."
My stomach rumbled, loud enough for us both to hear it. I'd been given some soup last night and some bread this morning, but it had been too long since I'd had something more substantial, and I was hungry.
Blaine's smile grew wider. "And we'll lunch afterwards."
I hoped he didn't think that Faeries were delicate eaters, dining on dewdrops and sunshine or some other nonsense. I'd heard dumber things in my days, even from people who had seen me eating regular, hearty fare. With any luck he wouldn't count another crust of bread as a substantial enough meal for his pet.
I disentangled my legs from the blanket and stood, unprepared for Blaine to take my hand.
He squeezed my hand, then turned, dragging me along behind him. The only thing that kept me going was the belief that eventually I would have some clothes that fit me properly, and that I was going to be fed.
I ignored the way my heart beat a little faster when he held my hand, ignored the butterflies in my stomach when he looked back at me with the stupid smile on his face.
I was just hungry, that was all there was to it.
Nothing more.
Wow! I just want to thank everyone who has left me a comment on this series. It means so much to me that people are liking this story. And, as always, I'm always open to comments/reviews/con-crit/'you-missed-a-word's
NEXT
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,787 / 20,100 [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.
four days ago
"Are you still cold?"
I didn't look up. I wasn't fooled by Blaine's gentle tone; I was sharp enough to know that he didn't hold any real concern for how I felt. He'd proved that much this morning.
Uncaring how sullen it made me look, I wrapped my arms around my legs, knees tucked up under my chin, and stared out the window. The view was depressingly devoid of life. It had snowed the night before, and the ground was covered in a layer of white. No grass, no leaves, no animals scurrying around and scrounging for food, no birds.
No birds.
Blaine's pen ceased its incessant scratching, and then I heard the sound of his chair scraping across the floor.
I wasn't surprised when I felt his presence hovering behind me, the heat of his body warming the air between us. I looked up and saw a reflection of him in the glass.
When he reached out, his touch didn't startle me, but I flinched away in disgust anyway. He placed his hand more firmly on my shoulder and squeezed.
"Are you cold?" he asked me again, more pointedly this time. It was plain that he expected me to give him a response, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
I'd rather suffer in silence.
Unfortunately, as I shifted across the window seat to move closer to the pane, my body betrayed me with a shiver. His fingers tightened, probably in irritation at how little I was cooperating, and he did something that surprised me.
I really don't know what I was expecting from him. This sort of behavior I was displaying hadn't been tolerated by my previous owner; I would have been punished by the housekeeper ten times over had I acted like this back home.
Then again, I was also always warm and comfortable back home, with no one demanding horrific things of my person, and with my sister always there beside me. I felt I was owed a little leniency.
Though, a decidedly morbid part of me was curious to find out what Blaine would do if I tested the limits of his patience long enough. I wasn't foolish enough, nor naïve enough, to think he could do no worse to me than what he'd already done. What I'd endured that morning was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. That didn't mean it couldn't get worse. It could always get worse.
Wary of punishment, I expected him to strike out at me. Or, considering he hadn't hit me thus far, I thought perhaps he would cajole me into responding. What I hadn't expected was for him to walk out of the room, leaving me there on my own. Which was precisely what he then did.
I looked around the room in confusion, wondering if I was supposed to just stay here by myself, or if he had counted on me following him. Being left alone like this in one of the numerous rooms in this house was, well. It was uncomfortable.
If he had abandoned me in his bedroom, it would have been fine. The bathroom was right there, and so was the bed. Not that I had any desire to climb back into it any time soon, but at least then I could warm myself under the blankets. I didn't know how to find my way around the manor, and I didn't want to poke my nose where it wasn't allowed in my clumsy attempts to find my way back.
I hugged my legs more tightly and went back to watching the grounds outside the window.
Lost in my own mind, I didn't hear Blaine's return to the study. In fact, I didn't notice him at all until he was dropping a thick, luxuriously soft blanket over my shoulders.
I'm ashamed to admit that I jumped and lost my grace for that moment. If not for his steadying hands, I would have fallen backwards, right onto the floor.
"Careful now," he murmured into my ear. His warm breath tickled, and I ducked my head to rub my ear against my shoulder to rub away the sensation.
Blaine laughed at me.
"I thought Faeries were supposed to be graceful," he mocked.
"You startled me," I said, giving him a cold look. The effect was ruined, I'm sure, by the way my fingers tugged at the blanket he had gifted me with, pulling it tight around my frame.
His expression could almost have been called tender at that point, especially taking in the way he sifted my hair through his fingers.
"It speaks!" he said with far more cheer in his voice than was warranted by the situation. My look only grew icier.
Pleased by the discomfited look he adopted, I turned away to stare back out the window.
'It'. He called me 'it'.
Blaine kissed the back of my neck, obviously ignoring how uncomfortable I was due to the attention. I was loath to call it affection, because I was doubtful there was any real emotion behind his actions apart from lust.
"Don't," I snapped. I didn't think he would stop, but it wouldn't feel right not to protest.
Blaine tugged on my hair almost to the point of pain, pulling my head back to bare my neck, and bit my ear.
"Stop," I tried again. Unfortunately, it came out sounding more like a moan than cold and severe. It wasn't fair that my body continually betrayed me this way when it came to him.
"Ask me nicely," he said, moving his mouth down to my neck, speaking into my skin.
In that moment, I thought for certain I was going to be sick all over the perfectly lovely hand-stitched upholstery of the window seat.
"Please stop," I whispered. I couldn't make myself any louder than that. I was barely able to choke out those words at all. "Please stop." It was marginally easier the second time around.
Blaine hesitantly pulled back and ran his fingers through my hair to straighten the mess of it he'd made.
"Please stop. Please, please stop."
The same words kept spilling from my mouth.
Blaine froze. He extracted his hands from my hair, gentle enough not to pull, and he took a step back, giving me space to breath. I hadn't realized I'd stopped.
I gasped in a breath once, twice, three times. I started to cough on the third rough inhale and the sudden pain in my chest woke me from... from whatever that was.
Unfolding my legs out from under me, I stood, dropping the blanket on the seat behind me. My balance was off and I wobbled a little, but still I stood until I steadied.
The second I felt the strength return to my legs, I stepped forward, crowding Blaine.
"I am not some doll you can pluck off a shelf and play with," I said in the nastiest tone I could muster. "I am a person. A piece of paper covered in legal jargon doesn't make me any less a person. I'm not your toy."
Breathing heavily, looking down my nose at him, I felt tall and strong and, for the first time in too long, I felt like I had some badly-needed control.
At least, I felt that way until I registered the indulgent look on Blaine's face. He was smiling at me like I was a recalcitrant child who was to be humored and indulged in until they ran out of steam.
"Are you finished?" he asked me.
I weighed my options, and decided on the safer of the two ways this could go. Instead of fighting back, I shrunk back and sat down on the ledge, looking anywhere but at him.
"Yes," I said dully, the fight leaving me.
"It's okay, Kurt," he said kindly. "You'll get used to it soon enough. I know things must be different here than how they were with your last owner, but I promise, you'll get used to it." It was the kindness that made his words hurt so much.
"No." I shook my head, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.
"You will." Blaine stepped forward and tipped my chin up to face him with two curved fingers. He didn't say a word until I opened my eyes. Then he spoke: "I've seen it before with other pets. You just need a little time."
I shook my head again, knocking his fingers out from under my jaw without trying.
"Yes," he said more firmly, though no less kind than before. "Kurt," he then said, sounding much more serious. "You can't act out like that again. And I can't allow you to get away with acting out like this without some form of punishment."
My fingers clenched into fists, which I then had to fight to relax. I didn't want him to think I was going to fly off the handle and hit him, or something else equally foolhardy. I was in enough trouble as it was.
"I apologize," I shot out immediately, my voice wooden and lifeless. He stared at me, contemplating, I'm sure, what to do with his insubordinate pet.
"I still have work to do," he said at last. "The tailor will be here in a few hours and I don't need any more interruptions from you."
Horrified, and all-but certain he was going to do something awful to me, like gag my mouth and tie me up, or lock me in a closet, or worse, I stared up with wide, hurt eyes. I didn't actually think he would show me any sympathy, but I assumed it wouldn't do any harm to try and look vulnerable either.
"In the corner," he said, pointing to a corner near his desk where he would easily be able to keep an eye on me.
I didn't move, uncomprehending his meaning.
"Up. Now," he ordered, looking displeased at having to repeat himself.
I complied, standing back up and going to the corner. I turned to face him, question plain on my face.
"Turn around. Nose to the corner. You'll stand there until I'm finished with my paper, or until the tailor arrives to take your measurements."
I turned to face the walls and indulged myself in making a face. Did he think I was a small child? I hadn't been punished in this method since I was very small. Brih'tt'ny and I would torture each other with poking fights or pulling each other's hair until someone, usually the cook, got annoyed enough to send us to separate corners. It never stopped us from sneaking dirty looks at one another when no one was watching, but it was usually a boring enough punishment to teach us a lesson for at least a couple days.
I scoffed inwardly at the idea of this being a punishment, but I wasn't going to complain. If Blaine wanted to treat me with kid gloves, then all the better for me. I would take standing in a corner over the housekeeper boxing my ears any day.
Blaine took up his place at the desk again; the seat was on the squeaky side, and he didn't seem to know how to lift a chair rather than drag it across the floor. Soon, I heard the skritch-scratch of his pen once more.
It wasn't long before I found myself missing my window, no matter how dull and lifeless the view had been. At least there I had something to look at. Then, I began to miss the blanket Blaine had procured for me. The clothes he had given me to wear this morning were soft and comfortable, but on the thin side. I was accustomed to soft, thick socks and sweaters, not flimsy sleep pants and itchy socks made from man-made materials.
I simply wasn't used to this pervasive cold that seeped into my bones. I grew up in a house that belonged to an old man who felt the cold almost as much as myself or my sister. As long as I stayed indoors, the winters were always tolerable; they didn't leave me miserable and constantly chilled the way I felt here.
Brih'tt'ny and I would spend most of our days helping out in the kitchen, warmed by the ovens and stove which constantly working, constantly feeding extra heat into the room. Even if we were given time to spend for ourselves, we would often sit at the counter, nibbling on the hot, fresh-baked bread rolls Cook would slip us to keep our mouths occupied. Sometimes, if given permission, I would spend the afternoon in the library, curled up in an armchair next to the radiator.
I never had to worry about keeping warm back home. Even if it was a particularly cold day and the heating system couldn't keep up, my sister and I would bundle up in bed together, napping and telling each other stories. It didn't matter if it was Brih'tt'ny's stories about what the stable master and cook were supposedly getting up to in their spare time, or my stories from books I'd recently read, or our own private, made-up stories about what our parents must have been like.
Sometimes, we would spend the entire day like that. Our record was three days. It was during a terrible chill that lasted for days when we finally broke out into a meaningless fight, our tempers frayed from too much time alone together. Brih'tt'ny left with her feelings hurt and spent the rest of the day with the cook's son, Finn. Meanwhile, I spent the day in the stable with the horses, warmed by their presence and the friendly company of the stable master.
He was always kind to me, kinder than most. To Brih'tt'ny as well. He never treated us like we were less. He treated us as though we weren't any different than two fully human children. He taught me all about horses, too. I loved to spend my summer afternoons grooming them, and they had taken to me immediately. Including the ornery old horse who didn't like anyone. Even the stable master had a hard time with keeping him settled enough to exercise and groom him.
He was always sweet as a foal around me, playful and friendly and always poking his nose in my pockets expecting a treat.
I never said it out loud, a silly, sentimental part of me not wanting the other horses to hear, but he was my favorite. It was always a good feeling to know that I could walk into the stable and find him waiting for me, always happy to see me, never seeing me for anything but a person. A friend.
Lost in my memories of home, it took me a while to notice the ache that was building in the small of my back, between my legs. The longer I stood, the more the discomfort grew.
Blaine had been very careful with me that morning, but that didn't make up for the fact that I had been tense and uncomfortable throughout the entire act. It didn't make up for anything, really, but the most relevant matter at that moment was that I was still feeling sore, no matter how gentle he had tried to be.
As soon as I acknowledged my discomfort, the more acutely I felt it. My muscles were tense and I felt restless, wanting to walk around to loosen up. The more tense I grew, the more sharp the pain became. It was tolerable, but the thought of standing here like this for another hour or more was a nightmare.
I spared a glace over to where Blaine was sitting, working steadily on whatever it was he had to do. Work for school, I thought, but he hadn't actually said.
"Turn back around." His words were lazy and tinged with amusement. I scowled, but obeyed, not wanting to give him reason to add to my punishment. I leaned my forehead against the two walls and wrapped my arms across my chest to ward off the cold.
Bastard.
- - - - - - - - -
I was immensely grateful when Blaine, at last, permitted me to leave my corner.
"How long...?" I asked, forcing myself to sound meek and timid under his stare.
Blaine tugged me over towards him and held me against his chest, leaving soft kisses across my jawline. I endured the touch without complaint, but didn't do anything to encourage it. I didn't want him to think I was going to roll over and beg for his touch because he was showing a little kindness after punishing me.
"Two, two-and-a-half hours?" he said, brushing my hair out of my face with his fingers.
Then again, perhaps a little clinginess could work in my favor. I dropped my head to his shoulder and leaned in a little closer against his body, smiling to myself at how pleased he seemed by my actions.
"You know I let you off easy, don't you?" Blaine asked me, his tone serious and not betraying his obvious pleasure at my closeness. It didn't stop him from drawing a hand up and down the center of my back as he spoke.
I murmured in assent, toying with the buttons on his shirt.
"You can't act up like that again, Kurt. I-" he stifled a gasp as I stroked my palm across his stomach, "-I won't be so... so lenient. Next time." Blaine grabbed my hand, pulling it away from his chest. "Stop that," he said, aggrieved at having to halt my touch.
"Sorry," I said innocently. "May I please go lie down?" I drew back away from him and gave him a sad look, one that usually even worked on the cranky old housekeeper when I was pushing my luck with her.
"Are you sore?" Blaine asked, letting go of my hand.
Sheepish, I nodded. I couldn't be sure that it was the right move to admit it or not. He might count it as being part of my punishment, but he seemed to think himself the compassionate sort. I was hedging my bets; if I admitted that I felt sore from standing in the corner, he might just take pity on me.
"Cold, too," I admitted when he looked unsure whether to grant my request or not.
Slowly nodding at my confession, Blaine nodded over towards the window.
"Come on," he said, pushing me in that direction by my shoulders. He led me back to my window and pushed the pillows around it against the glass, leaving two at one end for me to rest my head on. "Up you get," he said, applying pressure to the space between my shoulder blades.
I had hoped he would let me go back to his room to curl up in bed, but the window seat was big and had certainly been quite comfortable to sit on earlier. Swallowing my disappointment, I crawled up onto the ledge and stretched my legs out. I rolled onto my side and breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of pain subsiding.
Wanting the blanket, I flung out my arm to try and find it without having to turn over to see it, but Blaine beat me to it. I hadn't realized I'd been half lying on it. He tugged it out from under me and, for a second, I thought he was going to tuck me in.
Instead, he dropped the blanket on top of me and gave me a strange look.
"Don't fall asleep," he said, then turned away from me. "You still need to be fitted and then we'll have lunch." Blaine pulled a watch from his pocket and checked it. "There might be time for you to take a nap later if you need to, but today is going to be a busy day."
My tired limbs fought with the blanket, trying to untangle the mess of it lying across my hip. Eventually, I had it stretched out across my body, tucked under my feet to warm them.
It was a struggle to stay awake. I was warm and cozy, the cushioning under me plush and comfortable. I wasn't sure if I had nodded off or not, but if I had, then it was a very light sleep.
I was instantly alert and aware when someone knocked on the door and then entered the study. It was a maid, young and with an earnest face. She spoke with Blaine for a moment, then made her exit without ever looking at me once.
I was used to being invisible.
It just never seemed to hurt any less.
I sat up, not wanting to push down the warm blanket, but not wanting Blaine to catch me sleeping after I had been told not to. Because, according to the position of the sun, I had not been lying there for half an hour trying not to doze.
I surreptitiously wiped the sleep from my eyes, but by the smirk on Blaine's face when he came over to me moments later, he knew I'd not done as he asked. I looked away from him - not down, but away - unsure if he would be angry with me. I didn't especially care about doing what he wanted, but disobeying him right after finishing up a punishment wasn't exactly smart, either.
"Come on," he said with a smile. I guessed he was in a good mood. "Time to get your measurements taken."
My stomach rumbled, loud enough for us both to hear it. I'd been given some soup last night and some bread this morning, but it had been too long since I'd had something more substantial, and I was hungry.
Blaine's smile grew wider. "And we'll lunch afterwards."
I hoped he didn't think that Faeries were delicate eaters, dining on dewdrops and sunshine or some other nonsense. I'd heard dumber things in my days, even from people who had seen me eating regular, hearty fare. With any luck he wouldn't count another crust of bread as a substantial enough meal for his pet.
I disentangled my legs from the blanket and stood, unprepared for Blaine to take my hand.
He squeezed my hand, then turned, dragging me along behind him. The only thing that kept me going was the belief that eventually I would have some clothes that fit me properly, and that I was going to be fed.
I ignored the way my heart beat a little faster when he held my hand, ignored the butterflies in my stomach when he looked back at me with the stupid smile on his face.
I was just hungry, that was all there was to it.
Nothing more.
Wow! I just want to thank everyone who has left me a comment on this series. It means so much to me that people are liking this story. And, as always, I'm always open to comments/reviews/con-crit/'you-missed-a-word's
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