KHBB Fic: Burn (pt.3)
Part 3 of 3 because of dumb LJ limits.
*
He comes to slowly to a crowd of faces, dark against the night sky above. The back of his head is throbbing painfully, and he groans. His mind is fuzzy; he can’t remember where he is or what just happened.
The events of the evening come back to him slowly. He remembers giving his speech at the ceremony, fingers clasped together to hide any signs of nerves. He remembers standing next to Aera, talking to an old duke. He remembers screams, and then it’s all very blurry, until suddenly-
“Blaine!”
He sits upright, the quick movement leaving him even dizzier, and there’s a hand on his shoulder. He blinks up and sees Santana standing over him looking concerned.
“Bl-Blaine was taken,” Kurt mutters, then shrugs her hand off and stands up. He’s still on the parapet above the gate. “Need to go after him.”
“Whoa, Kurt, slow down,” says Santana, pushes him back so that he can sit on the wheel of a cannon. “You hit your head really hard, you need to relax.”
He looks down, dazed, at the bloodied courtyard. “Where did they come from?”
“They came up the river. We have no idea how they got past the gates, or through the port, or how they even knew that the castle would be open tonight.”
Kurt nods, and remembers the huge black dragon and its mysterious rider. His stomach jolts.
“We need to get your head checked,” says Santana.
Anger bubbles in his chest, and he does his best to shoot her a glare. “Blai-“
“Kurt, please.” It’s Lord Drin talking now, crouched down in front of him, face haggard and left cheek bloodied. “You’re hurt.”
“I don’t care!” Kurt says loudly, standing up and brushing them both off, glaring at the gathered knights on the wall with him. It’s quiet, down below, all of the Barrosse soldiers killed or captured. “I have to go after him.”
“Kurt-“
“No! You don’t understand, he can’t-I can’t let them-I have to save him.” Aera is standing in the courtyard below, her bright eyes clouded with worry. “Aera and I will leave before dawn.”
With that he turns and hurries down the stairs, stalks across the courtyard, swings himself onto his dragon’s back and leaves the castle.
*
He’s hurriedly checking the straps under Aera’s arms when he’s approached by Drin, still wearing his ceremonial robe, expression drawn.
“Are you sure about this, Kurt?” he asks, watching him from a few feet away.
Kurt doesn’t meet his eyes, simply nods and keeps checking over the saddle. He hears Drin sigh and glances over at him as he ducks round to Aera’s chest.
“I have to go after him, I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
That stops him. He looks up, confused. Drin moves closer and bows his head.
“What do you mean?” Kurt asks.
“I know that you have to save him. I know-why.”
Kurt feels his stomach tense, and turns back to his dragon. Aera’s muscles are stiff too, as if she knows just what’s going through his head. “I have to save him because he’s my student and under my charge and we can’t afford to lose him.”
“That’s true,” agrees Drin. “But there are other reasons, too.” He pauses, and Kurt looks at his old mentor properly. He may look tired and anxious, but there’s something warm in his eyes. “We would all put more than our lives on the line to save those we love.”
Kurt’s breath catches; he has no idea how he knows, but he knows. He’s still not even sure of the extent of his feelings towards Blaine, but he feels they may be headed in-that direction. He watches Drin for a while, worried he might catch a look of disapproval or disgust, but all he can see is warm acceptance.
His mouth twitches, and he nods, grateful. Drin nods back at him, drops a heavy hand onto his shoulder-a silent gesture of good luck-and leaves the room.
“I’ll send reinforcements up as soon as possible,” he says on his way through the door.
Kurt takes a deep breath and turns to Aera. “Well,” he says. “It’s up to us now.”
Aera looks at him solemnly. Don’t be afraid, Kurt.
He smiles at her and lays a hand on her neck. “I’m not.”
*
It takes them four entire days to fly North-and that’s with very brief respites, only stopping for relieving themselves, short naps, and catching a bite to eat (literally, in Aera’s case). By the evening of the fourth day, they’re at the border village. Or at least, what remains of the village.
The houses are blackened, hollow shells; the streets are littered with debris and charcoaled corpses. Kurt gags, not only at the smell, and covers his nose. He hadn’t realised it was this bad.
They’re only a night’s flight away from King Truos’ fort in southern Barros, but he takes his time at the village, paying his respects to the dead. He only hopes that they can stop this war before it spreads.
They eat outside the city, and sleep for a couple of hours, then Kurt is forcing himself to wake and continue on.
It’s dawn when they reach the fort, a big building of grey stone, high on a hill. They’re careful to fly round and land on the opposite side of the hill to avoid being seen, ducking down under the trees.
Kurt slides off Aera’s back and ties his sword belt on over his chainmail and tunic. “You know the signal,” he says. “Wait for me in the woods by the castle. I’ll try and get Blaine out and get him to you, but if you hear it-you know what to do.”
She nods and nudges his cheek with the tip of her snout. Good luck.
He pats her once and heads off around the hill.
He’s glad of the forest as he gets closer to the fort, concealing his approach with its heavy branches and thick foliage. He’s not sure how he’s actually going to get in-there’s a bare strip of land two hundred yards wide between the treeline and the grey stone. Even if he makes it across without being seen, he still will have to climb over the wall.
He creeps through the undergrowth, footsteps falling soft on the leaf-ridden earth. There’s a strip of trees near the back of the fort that come closer to the wall-he’ll make for there and hope.
He runs as silently as possible through the trees, keeping a few feet back from the edge so that he can’t be seen from the fort. The rising sun glows golden on the tips of the towers at the four corners of the fort.
Suddenly, his foot catches on a branch or something, and he trips, going down onto his hands and knees. Cursing, he brushes back the leaves of the bushes he had just run through, trying to find the branch his foot is stuck under-
And is pulled up short. His foot isn’t stuck under a branch at all. Instead, it’s a metal rung, the kind you would find on the lid of a trapdoor.
He yanks his foot out, brushes away the leaves covering it, and looks down at what is indeed a trapdoor in the forest floor. There’s no way there would be one here unless it leads right into the castle.
He tugs on the rung. It’s stiff, and resists for a moment, but then slowly the lid slides off, revealing a dark hole in the ground.
Steeling himself-he hadn’t thought to bring any kind of light with him-Kurt settles his hands on either side of the hole before swinging his legs inside and dropping down into the tunnel.
If this leads him to Blaine, he will endure any dark, dank and disgusting tunnel thrown at him.
The light from the entrance spills down the tunnel a little way, but’s it’s hardly enough to go far. He reaches out and touches the walls on either side, and is relieved to find them dry. He settles his palms down and begins to walk.
He goes slowly, not wanting to trip or cause any loud noises that could echo up the tunnel and into-wherever it leads.
After a few minutes of walking, the tunnel starts going down, and he leans back, unsure of how steep it is. The downhill section only lasts a little while, though, then becomes flat again. He walks for a few more minutes and then is suddenly faced with an abrupt turn. He follows it, and is surprised to find soft light flooding the tunnel a little way ahead.
He hurries forward. The end of the tunnel is blocked by a doorway of metal bars; beyond, a corridor lit by a single candle. He pushes on the bars gently. To his relief, the door opens.
He steps out into the corridor, hesitant. It’s silent. He presumes he’s under the fort.
He moves slowly down the corridor, one hand clasped around the hilt of his sword, the other skimming along the cool stones of the wall. He comes to a bend, and peers around it cautiously.
The corridor opens up ahead, and he sees that the walls are lined with metal bars. The fort prison. The closest cells he can see are empty. With no evidence of everyone else around, he steps cautiously forward. His feet crunch on the hay spilling out through the cell bars, littering the flagstone floor.
There seem to be more cells off down separate branches ahead; he turns left on a whim. He’s just about to sneak down to the next turning when he hears voices ahead.
He plasters himself back against the wall, inching his way along, slowly, slowly, until he can just peer round the corner.
There are a couple of guards in Barrosse dress sitting in front of a cell, a candle stuck in a jar between them, hands on their swords. One of them says something funny and the other laughs. Kurt notices something move in the cell behind them at the sound, and looks up, and-
Blaine. Lying curled up on the floor of the cell, arms wrapped around his legs, but he’s there, he’s only a few feet away and he’s alive and Kurt has been worrying for days. He takes a deep breath and ducks back around the corner, mentally planning out his attack.
A couple of minutes later, he draws his sword as quietly as possible. He steadies his breathing, makes sure he’s balanced properly before he throws himself around the corner.
It’s over a lot quicker than he had expected. Both guards are completely taken by surprise. They jump up and fumble with their weapons, but Kurt is too quick. A series of well-placed blows and they hit the ground within seconds, unable to cry out for backup.
Blaine has shuffled over to the edge of the cell, and is gripping the metal hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. Kurt drops to his knees in front of him, reaching in and petting over his cheek and hair, making sure he’s okay.
“Are you-did they-you’re alive-“
“Kurt,” Blaine replies, placing his hand on Kurt’s wrist. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did, you idiot, I couldn’t-“ He huffs in frustration at the thick metal bars separating them and spins around, fumbles in the pockets of the dead guards for the keys. “We need to get you out of there.”
Finally he lays his hand on cool metal and pulls out a large ring of keys. He stands up, and tries about six of them in the lock until he finds the right one and the door grates open.
It’s then that he sees that Blaine’s ankles are chained to the cell, so he hurries over, clumsily inserting key after key until he can find one that fits. Blaine helps him tug them off, and gasps in pain as the metal drags against his skin.
There’s a moment of hesitation, then Blaine sags forwards into Kurt’s arms, and he wraps them around his student’s shoulders, holding him tight to his chest. Blaine clings to him, arms wrapped around his back, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Kurt strokes the hair at the back of his neck gently, just able to breathe in the smell of Blaine in his hair under all the dirt and sweat. He feels so small against him, and Kurt wants to keep him there forever.
They hold each other for a long while, until finally Blaine starts shifting and Kurt releases him, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. Blaine stumbles as he stands, falling against Kurt’s chest, but Kurt just holds onto his elbows gently and helps him right himself. With a pang, his sees that Blaine’s face is wet with tears.
He turns to leave the cell, keys grasped in his hand, but feels Blaine tugging at his wrist. Confused and worried that Blaine might still be chained up somewhere, he turns back around.
And is met with Blaine’s lips on his.
Kurt stiffens, surprised, but then Blaine’s hand cups his jaw and his fingers stroke over it gently, and Kurt realises-Blaine is kissing him. Blaine is kissing him. He thinks of all the times he’s had to restrain himself, to tell himself no, to keep their relationship as professional as possible. He thinks of the heated glances from Blaine, the slack of his face as he came calling out Kurt’s name, the feel of their bare chests pressed together. And he thinks of the deep, sickening fear he’s felt since he saw Blaine taken in the courtyard, that he could be hurt or even dead, and thinks, fuck it.
He gasps, and kisses back passionately, sucking Blaine’s bottom lip into his mouth and moaning quietly around it. Blaine inhales shakily through his nose and grips his waist, kissing him deeply.
They pull apart after a few seconds, faces close, gasping into the air between them.
“I’m-I’m sorry,” says Blaine, starting to pull away, but Kurt grabs him and kisses him again, fierce and brief.
“Don’t be,” he breathes. “Please, please don’t be sorry about this.”
Blaine looks at him, still a little uncertain, but nods, and pecks his lips once more.
“Let’s go,” he says.
They exit the cell quietly, hand in hand, and Kurt glances up and down the row. It appears empty. He steps over the guards’ bodies on the ground, hoping that they won’t be found until they’re out of the tunnel or farther. He leads Blaine towards where he remembers the entrance to the tunnel to be, glancing around each corner carefully.
They’re nearly there when he hears a shout from behind them, so he yanks on Blaine’s hand and runs towards the metal bars at the entrance. He’s about to reach when suddenly there’s a guard in front of him, sword raised and angry, appearing from seemingly nowhere. Kurt jumps back and realises there’s a concealed corridor next to the door into the tunnel.
He tosses Blaine the sword strapped to his back, then draws his own just in time to deflect the blow from the guard. He swipes for his legs, then twists his wrist up, bringing his sword around quickly to land with a crunch on the man’s ribs. He thanks the stars that the guard isn’t wearing armour and finishes him off with a stab to the chest.
Behind him, Blaine is facing off a couple of guards, sword held in both hands and legs trembling slightly. Kurt guesses he hasn’t had a lot to eat recently and jumps in to help him.
They finish off the two guards, but then there’s another shout from behind and a group of soldiers emerge from the concealed entrance. “Run!” Kurt shouts, and they take off through the prison, passing cell after cell. The place is a maze, so Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand to make sure that they don’t get separated.
The only way out now is through the fort, so he looks for a door or a flight of stairs as he runs. Finally, he sees a little corridor lit by torchlight, and pulls Blaine into it, sprinting down it as fast as possible and up the spiral staircase at the end.
Blaine is lagging behind him; he can feel the tug on his arm as he strives to keep up. At the top of the stairs, they find themselves in an empty room, two more corridors leading off.
He’s about to tug Blaine down the nearest one when a group of soldiers nearly fifteen strong emerges from the other, armed with swords and crossbows. They’re quick to surround them, and a couple more appear from the staircase, blocking their escape back down into the prison.
Kurt glances at Blaine and nods slightly before dropping his sword to the floor and holding his hands up in the air. Blaine follows suit, panting heavily, standing close to him.
The soldiers move closer and one of them pokes Kurt’s chest with the tip of his sword. “Let’s take ‘em to the king,” he says, voice gruff.
They’re escorted through the fort, and though Kurt tries to remember every turn so they can find their way back to the tunnel later, it’s hard when he’s got a drawn crossbow pressed to his back.
They’re pushed out into a large, vaulted room-obviously the main hall. There are a few tables at the sides of the room and a cold stone throne at the top. Before it, King Truos is pacing, face haggard and angry.
The guards push him to his knees in front of the throne, and Blaine sags down next to him. He keeps his hands in the air.
The king’s feet come into view, well-made leather boots scuffed with years of wear. He breathes carefully, and sees another pair of feet move next to the king’s.
Suddenly, there’s a hand under his chin, and his face is jerked up. He gasps.
Sebastian Smythe is smirking down at him.
Kurt’s eyes widen as he stares up at the knight, who is wearing the black and yellow of Barros. “Wha-“ he hisses, but Sebastian jerks his chin again and he shuts up.
“This is him,” Sebastian says softly, turning to the king. “Sir Hummel.” He sneers at Kurt one more time and releases his chin.
The king steps forward, sizing him up. He watches him silently for a while, and then looks at Sebastian. “I must say I’m impressed, Smythe,” he says. “Your little plan worked.”
Kurt freezes. Plan? Had this all been a trap?
Sebastian inclines his head. “I told you the boy would bring him running,” he says.
King Truos smiles-his grin ugly-and bent down to look at Blaine. “We haven’t got much use for him anymore, then,” he says. He glances at a nearby guard. “Take him away. You can do with him as you please. But keep him alive.”
Blaine gasps, and Kurt’s head shoots up. “No!” he shouts, scrambling over to Blaine and putting an arm around his shoulders. Blaine whimpers. “Please!”
Truos steps forward towards them. “You want to keep him?” he asks, derision clear in his voice. “You would prefer that little boy over my son?”
Son?
Truos must see the look of confusion on his face, because he smiles scornfully and goes to sit on his throne, holding a hand up at the guard moving forward to take Blaine. Kurt is momentarily relieved.
“That’s right,” continues the king. “Sebastian is mine. Surely it must have seemed suspicious to you, for him to disappear from your little… excursion, without any trace?”
Kurt hesitates before nodding reluctantly.
“He came to me. He’s been coming to me every year since he’s been at the Academy, Hummel. How else do you think I would have known about your little student, or your beast’s silly little party?” He scoffs. “You people are ridiculous. You believe that simply because some accords are in place, nothing can harm you. Well I have news for you, rider.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “You’re wrong.”
He settles back into the throne, throwing a leg up over one of the arms. “Of course, it was simple enough. Distract you with a little kerfuffle at the border. Pay one of your king’s men off to have the port clear and the gates open-does the name Vouton ring a bell? Then time everything perfectly to snatch up the boy on your big night, Smythe and my dragon Grief assisting, of course. We knew you’d come running.”
Kurt sits in shock. First Sebastian-then Vouton? And Truos had a dragon?
“What are you-why are you doing all this? What do you want with me?” he demands.
Truos laughs. “Hummel, dear. You’re the best rider in your kingdom. With you on our side the nation would fall like dead leaves from a tree.”
“You must be insane if you ever think I would go against my people.”
“Oh, I know. That’s why we’ve got boy-toy here. Sebastian has told me how you feel about him. Of course, we won’t allow you to see him but-“ He pauses, face darkening. “One disobeyed order and we kill him.”
Kurt’s arms tighten around Blaine, heart hammering inside his chest. He can’t-he can’t breathe, he’s panicking, and he can hear the steady quiet whimpers from Blaine. He needs to do something to get them out of here, and fast.
Truos gets up, gestures the guards to keep an eye on them, and leaves through a door at the side of the room with Sebastian.
Kurt thinks, Now’s my chance.
He reaches down to his ankle, feeling the knife he has hidden inside his boot. He pulls it out, slowly and carefully, as not to alert the guards to his movement. Then he leans down and whispers in Blaine’s ear, “With me.”
With a cry, Kurt spins around and stands up, flicking the knife at the soldier pointing a crossbow at them. It hits him bang in the neck and he cries out, crossbow going off and bolt hitting another guard in the chest. Kurt scrambles to get the dead guard’s sword and fights off another, grabbing his weapon and throwing it to Blaine. They stand back-to-back, exchanging blows with several guards at a time, getting increasingly bruised and tired.
Eventually, most of the guards who had been in the hall are either dead or injured on the ground. Kurt leaps up onto the throne, cups his hands around his mouth, and lets out an ear-splitting screech.
He knows it’ll alert anyone else in the fort, but Aera really needs to get here as soon as possible.
He jumps down and gathers Blaine up in his arms, pressing his face into his shoulder and holding him tightly.
“You okay?” he asks when they pull apart.
“Yes, I-I think so,” Blaine. “Just a bit shaken. And tired.”
Kurt nods and picks up a crossbow from a dead soldier, loading it. “What are you doing?” asks Blaine.
“Truos and Sebastian will be back soon. We need to be ready. You should get one too.”
They settle next to the throne, crossbows at the ready, and sure enough, a couple of minutes later the king and his son come running in.
Truos looks at the corpses littering the floor and starts towards them angrily, stopping short when Kurt holds up the crossbow and points it at him. “Stop right there,” he says. He gestures for them to kneel, and they do as instructed. He moves closer, aiming the crossbow at Truos’ head, Blaine doing the same with Sebastian.
“Now,” says Kurt. “Where is your dragon?”
“He’s-he’s out hunting,” Truos replies nervously.
“Really? When is he due back?”
Truos shrugs. “His trips usually take a few days.”
“Good,” says Kurt. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but it seems to be working. “So we’ll wait for him to return. For now, I want you to order all your soldiers to collect their weapons and leave them with me, then return home to their families.”
Truos glares at him, but then nods slowly. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth.
*
It takes a while, but eventually all the soldiers and guards are unarmed and sent away. Aera oversees the proceedings, growling menacingly at anyone who even tries to step out of line. When Kurt, Blaine, Sebastian and Truos are the only people left at the castle, he can finally breathe a deep sigh of relief.
He ties them up and sits guard over them while Blaine and Aera take a short flight south to see how close their reinforcements are. They return a few hours later with good news and a thunder of dragons.
Drin and the eleven other riders he has brought with him take over, telling Kurt and Blaine to find somewhere to sleep and get some rest.
They cuddle up together on the huge bed in what must be Truos’ room, limbs tangled together, and immediately fall into a deep and very welcome sleep.
*
The journey back home is slower than the journey there, but then they’re finally flying over the Academy, dropping in through the opening at the top of the Rafters and landing with a loud thump on the straw-covered floor. Kurt sags forwards against Aera’s neck and Blaine sags forwards against him.
Truos and Sebastian have been imprisoned. With the help of so many dragons, Grief was trapped on his return from his hunting trip, and taken into custody. The Barrosse army attacking villages in the North has been ordered to retreat. All is right again.
There’s an excited shriek from a sub-room above them. Kurt looks up, and sees Tarron, big and shining and happy, leap down towards them.
Blaine immediately slides off Aera’s back, stumbling as his feet hit the ground, and rushes over to his dragon, flinging his arms around his neck and burying his face in his scales. Kurt smiles fondly at them.
Eventually, he drags himself off the saddle and lets her and Tarron reunite, crowing happily and dancing around each other. He walks over to Blaine and gently takes his hand, and they stand and watch their dragons, laughing together. Blaine leans against him and drops his head onto his shoulder.
After a while, Aera nods to him then up at the sky, and Kurt smiles back at her. She and Tarron immediately take off, shooting up into the air and out into the sunshine.
“Mmm,” says Blaine, turning his face into Kurt’s shoulder and sliding a hand across his waist. “Maybe we should go and celebrate our return too.”
Kurt blushes and pulls back so that he can look at his face. “Blaine Anderson,” he exclaimes. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Blaine glances off to the side coyly. “Possibly.”
Kurt gapes at him, mock affronted, then grabs his shoulders and pulls him into a deep kiss. “Okay,” he murmurs against his lips. “My bed is bigger.”
Blaine giggles and grabs his hand.
As soon as they’re inside the door to Kurt’s chambers, he pulls Blaine flush against him, kissing him open-mouthed and hungry. Blaine is eager to retaliate, licking into his mouth and wrapping a leg around Kurt’s. “Mm, Kurt,” he breathes. “You taste delicious.”
Kurt laughs because he’s been travelling for days and he’s fairly certain he does not taste delicious, but it’s nice of Blaine to say so. “Come on,” he mutters, fingers on Blaine’s waist. “Bedroom.”
Blaine giggles and bounds happily into the room, immediately dropping onto the bed and tugging on his boots. Kurt follows at a slower pace, unbuckling his belt and shrugging his chainmail off into a heap on the floor.
“Gosh, you actually are five years old,” he says as Blaine bounces across the bed to him, expression open and eager.
“You like it, though,” says Blaine, eyes teasing. “That I’m younger.”
Kurt sighs and sits on the side of his bed to take off his boots as well. Blaine plasters himself against his back and immediately starts kissing at the skin behind his ear. “You’re ri-ght, ah Blaine, I do.”
Blaine giggles and tugs at his shoulders. “Come on.”
Kurt kicks off his last boot and turns around, crawling onto the bed and over Blaine, forcing him to shuffle up the mattress on his back. Blaine immediately curves a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a heated kiss. He moans against Kurt’s mouth and cards his fingers through his hair, sending shivers of delight down his spine.
“Mm,” says Kurt breathlessly. “You sure you’ve never kissed anyone before? Because you’re pretty good at that.”
“Nope, only you.” Blaine kisses him again and tugs at the front of his leather shirt. “C’mon, too many clothes.”
“Okay, okay.” Kurt sits back on his heels between Blaine’s legs and undoes the laces on his shirt before pulling it over his head, leaving only his cotton undershirt behind. Blaine sits forwards and slides his hands up underneath the hem, over the skin of Kurt’s waist and stomach.
“God, Kurt, you’re so soft,” he mutters. “But like-muscly underneath. Soft and hard.” He looks up and kisses him. “I like it.”
Kurt tugs his cotton shirt off and tosses it somewhere across the room, then immediately returns his focus to Blaine. He runs his fingers through thick curls and bends down to kiss at Blaine’s jaw, mouthing his way down to the top of his shirt. Blaine pushes him away playfully and yanks it off, leaving them both shirtless.
Kurt catches Blaine’s mouth in a kiss, laying him down against the soft sheets and hovering above him, holding himself up on the pillows. Blaine grunts and pulls at his shoulders until their chests are pressed together, skin-to-skin contact sending a flare of arousal through Kurt’s body.
He’s hard, straining against his leather pants, and Blaine rocks his hips up against him, moaning loudly. “Kurt-ah! Kurt-“
“Mmm, yeah?” gasps Kurt, sucking a series of marks down Blaine’s neck. He feels him pushing at his shoulder and leans back a bit so he can see his face. “What?”
Blaine looks so, so, innocent right then. Kurt knows he’s doing it because he knows he likes it, but still-wow. “Kurt, can I ask-“
“What? Anything you want, baby. I’ll give it to you.”
Blaine stares at him, eyes wide. “Want you to fuck me,” he says softly.
Kurt gasps, a wave of arousal shooting down his spine, so intense that he has to close his eyes. When he opens them again, Blaine still looks innocent, but there’s a rather overt hint of teasing to it as well.
“Yes,” he’s quick to say, “yes, yes, Blaine, God, want to-want to fuck you so bad.”
“So do it,” says Blaine.
He scrambles to get his pants and underwear off, kicking them onto the floor and leaving him naked, dick erect. He wraps his hand around it, blessed relief, and looks at Blaine, who is staring at his cock with his mouth open.
“Like what you see?” asks Kurt, and Blaine nods, eyes wide.
“C’mon, pants off,” he urges, and Blaine slides off the bed to tug off his pants. He pulls down his underwear, and Kurt stares at the perfect globes of his ass in the light from the window.
Blaine turns around shyly, his cock red and hard. Kurt swallows and holds out a hand for him to join him on the bed. Blaine goes willingly.
It’s more serious now, a little less playful giggling. Blaine lies out on his back against the pillows while Kurt gets the little pot of oil from the drawer and sets it on the edge of his night table. Then he kneels between Blaine’s spread thighs, both of them breathing unsteadily.
Kurt leans down and kisses Blaine, soft and sweet, and brushes his fingertips gently down the expanse of his neck. Blaine sighs contently.
Their kissing gets more intense, and Kurt trails his fingertips down Blaine’s chest, stopping to rub over his nipples. Blaine gasps and his hips jolt. “Tha-that feels good,” he says.
Kurt smiles and lowers his mouth to cover a nipple, flicking the bud with his tongue before sucking on it, hard. “Ku-urt,” gasps Blaine, hips rocking up and brushing their cocks together. Kurt moves across to the other nipple, and gives it the same treatment.
Blaine’s cock is already leaking precome onto his stomach, the tip purple. Kurt wraps his fingers around it gently, marvelling at his pale skin against the flush of Blaine’s, and Blaine whines, hips bucking up.
Kurt strokes up and down a few times, the fingers of his other hand trailing down Blaine’s thigh. “God, Kurt, if you don’t stop that I’m going to-ahh-come,” Blaine moans.
“Go ahead,” says Kurt. “It’ll make it easier after.”
Blaine sucks in a deep breath and Kurt starts pumping his fist faster, leaning forward to kiss him. Blaine writhes underneath him for a few minutes, panting loudly, until he’s gripping Kurt’s back and bucking his hips up and coming all over his belly and Kurt’s fist.
Kurt strokes him through it, then leans back when he’s done, picking up the pot on the night stand. Blaine’s chest is heaving, red-flushed skin striped with thick pearly white. Kurt aches to be inside him.
“Okay,” says Kurt, putting the pot precariously on the mattress beside them. “Are you ready, can I start fingering you open?”
Blaine squeaks and nods, spreading his legs wider and exposing the pucker of his ass. Kurt licks his lips subconsciously and dips his fingers into the oil, coating them liberally.
He takes his time stretching Blaine. He knows that this is his first time, and he doesn’t want to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. Blaine moans as he inserts his third finger, pushing his head back into the pillow, face scrunched up in pleasure.
“That feel good?” asks Kurt.
“Yes-so good, Kurt, can you-“ Kurt brushes over his prostate again and Blaine mewls, one hand grabbing onto Kurt’s thigh and squeezing it tight. “I never-ah-never thought it would feel this good.”
Kurt chuckles and moves closer, forcing Blaine’s legs to spread wider. He moves his fingers in and out, scissoring them a little inside, until Blaine is squeezing the base of his already hardened cock and scratching his nails down his thigh.
“Okay, I can, please, I’m ready-“
“You sure?”
Blaine nods frantically, looking up at him with his eyes half-lidded. Kurt wipes his fingers off and lines himself up, shuffling forward so he can put his hands on the pillow on either side of Blaine’s head. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
He pushes in excruciatingly slowly until the head of his cock slips past Blaine’s rim and the slide is easier. Still, he inches forward, giving Blaine time to breathe, his eyelids fluttering. He strokes his fingers gentle over Blaine’s hair, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, and bottoms out.
Kurt stops moving, a bead of sweat dripping down his arm. Blaine’s eyes are closed. “Tell me when you’re ready,” Kurt says softly.
Blaine slides a hand down his back and over his ass, squeezing a cheek gently. “Okay,” he says. “You can move.”
Kurt rocks slowly at first, fucking him deeply. Blaine moans and leans up to catch his lips. Kurt responds happily, sucking on Blaine’s upper lip and slipping his tongue into his mouth. Blaine cards a hand through his hair and squeezes his ass again, then pulls back a little to whisper, “Faster.”
Kurt pushes Blaine up the bed as his movements quicken. Sliding a hand down to Blaine’s knee, he hitches it up to his chest, changing the angle a bit and allowing him to go deeper. Blaine groans, reaching down to grasp his cock. Kurt takes this as a good sign, so he grabs Blaine’s other leg and hooks both over his shoulders.
Blaine is bent almost in half, letting out breathy little sighs with each deep thrust of Kurt’s cock. He hooks his ankles together behind Kurt’s head as he leans up to kiss him again-all the training had certainly made him flexible.
Kurt fucks him harder and faster and Blaine is crying out, precome dribbling from his dick onto his stomach. “Ku-Kurt-I’m gonna-gonna come-“
“Come, baby. Say my name.”
Blaine’s eyes fly open and their gazes lock. Kurt gives an extra hard thrust, tipping Blaine over the edge until he’s digging his head into the pillow, letting out a loud cry of “Kurt!”
The sight alone would have been enough to set Kurt off, but the sound-it’s the same sound he heard that night weeks ago, and the thought that now he has Blaine underneath him, and crying out his name because he told him to-
His hips shudder, and he presses his face into Blaine’s neck, whimpering. “Blaine-I-ah, God-Blaine, I love you-“
He comes hard, grinding into Blaine’s ass, and promptly collapses on top of him.
*
The sun is shining, birds are singing, and a fresh breeze is drifting on the air. Kurt gently traces his fingers over the shape of Blaine’s brand, watching a dragonfly flit above the water.
They’re down by a calm patch of river a few miles south of the city, cloaks spread out on the grass and the remains of their picnic around them. Blaine is lying back with his head against Tarron’s leg, and Kurt is lying with his head against Blaine’s belly.
He sighs happily, and turns his head so he can squint up at Blaine’s face. His student and lover’s skin is a warm gold in the sunlight, hazel eyes shining, and he looks absolutely beautiful. Kurt tells him so.
Blaine blushes and ducks his head. “I think you’re pretty beautiful, too, you know,” he says quietly, tracing a finger over Kurt’s eyebrows. Kurt closes his eyes contently. They lie in silence for a while, just touching each other softly, until Kurt feels Blaine shift his legs and opens his eyes.
“Did you mean it?” asks Blaine.
“Mean what?”
Blaine glances at Aera and Tarron are sleeping with their snouts pressed closed together. “What you said to me. When-when you came.”
Kurt thinks back to the previous afternoon, and realises with a jolt what he had breathed out into the skin of Blaine’s neck. He hasn’t even thought about it since then.
“I did,” he replies, not wanting to meet Blaine’s eyes for fear of rejection. But then there are fingers lifting his chin, and Blaine is smiling at him as if he had just fetched him the moon.
“I love you, too,” he says softly, and leans down to kiss him.
*
He comes to slowly to a crowd of faces, dark against the night sky above. The back of his head is throbbing painfully, and he groans. His mind is fuzzy; he can’t remember where he is or what just happened.
The events of the evening come back to him slowly. He remembers giving his speech at the ceremony, fingers clasped together to hide any signs of nerves. He remembers standing next to Aera, talking to an old duke. He remembers screams, and then it’s all very blurry, until suddenly-
“Blaine!”
He sits upright, the quick movement leaving him even dizzier, and there’s a hand on his shoulder. He blinks up and sees Santana standing over him looking concerned.
“Bl-Blaine was taken,” Kurt mutters, then shrugs her hand off and stands up. He’s still on the parapet above the gate. “Need to go after him.”
“Whoa, Kurt, slow down,” says Santana, pushes him back so that he can sit on the wheel of a cannon. “You hit your head really hard, you need to relax.”
He looks down, dazed, at the bloodied courtyard. “Where did they come from?”
“They came up the river. We have no idea how they got past the gates, or through the port, or how they even knew that the castle would be open tonight.”
Kurt nods, and remembers the huge black dragon and its mysterious rider. His stomach jolts.
“We need to get your head checked,” says Santana.
Anger bubbles in his chest, and he does his best to shoot her a glare. “Blai-“
“Kurt, please.” It’s Lord Drin talking now, crouched down in front of him, face haggard and left cheek bloodied. “You’re hurt.”
“I don’t care!” Kurt says loudly, standing up and brushing them both off, glaring at the gathered knights on the wall with him. It’s quiet, down below, all of the Barrosse soldiers killed or captured. “I have to go after him.”
“Kurt-“
“No! You don’t understand, he can’t-I can’t let them-I have to save him.” Aera is standing in the courtyard below, her bright eyes clouded with worry. “Aera and I will leave before dawn.”
With that he turns and hurries down the stairs, stalks across the courtyard, swings himself onto his dragon’s back and leaves the castle.
*
He’s hurriedly checking the straps under Aera’s arms when he’s approached by Drin, still wearing his ceremonial robe, expression drawn.
“Are you sure about this, Kurt?” he asks, watching him from a few feet away.
Kurt doesn’t meet his eyes, simply nods and keeps checking over the saddle. He hears Drin sigh and glances over at him as he ducks round to Aera’s chest.
“I have to go after him, I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
That stops him. He looks up, confused. Drin moves closer and bows his head.
“What do you mean?” Kurt asks.
“I know that you have to save him. I know-why.”
Kurt feels his stomach tense, and turns back to his dragon. Aera’s muscles are stiff too, as if she knows just what’s going through his head. “I have to save him because he’s my student and under my charge and we can’t afford to lose him.”
“That’s true,” agrees Drin. “But there are other reasons, too.” He pauses, and Kurt looks at his old mentor properly. He may look tired and anxious, but there’s something warm in his eyes. “We would all put more than our lives on the line to save those we love.”
Kurt’s breath catches; he has no idea how he knows, but he knows. He’s still not even sure of the extent of his feelings towards Blaine, but he feels they may be headed in-that direction. He watches Drin for a while, worried he might catch a look of disapproval or disgust, but all he can see is warm acceptance.
His mouth twitches, and he nods, grateful. Drin nods back at him, drops a heavy hand onto his shoulder-a silent gesture of good luck-and leaves the room.
“I’ll send reinforcements up as soon as possible,” he says on his way through the door.
Kurt takes a deep breath and turns to Aera. “Well,” he says. “It’s up to us now.”
Aera looks at him solemnly. Don’t be afraid, Kurt.
He smiles at her and lays a hand on her neck. “I’m not.”
*
It takes them four entire days to fly North-and that’s with very brief respites, only stopping for relieving themselves, short naps, and catching a bite to eat (literally, in Aera’s case). By the evening of the fourth day, they’re at the border village. Or at least, what remains of the village.
The houses are blackened, hollow shells; the streets are littered with debris and charcoaled corpses. Kurt gags, not only at the smell, and covers his nose. He hadn’t realised it was this bad.
They’re only a night’s flight away from King Truos’ fort in southern Barros, but he takes his time at the village, paying his respects to the dead. He only hopes that they can stop this war before it spreads.
They eat outside the city, and sleep for a couple of hours, then Kurt is forcing himself to wake and continue on.
It’s dawn when they reach the fort, a big building of grey stone, high on a hill. They’re careful to fly round and land on the opposite side of the hill to avoid being seen, ducking down under the trees.
Kurt slides off Aera’s back and ties his sword belt on over his chainmail and tunic. “You know the signal,” he says. “Wait for me in the woods by the castle. I’ll try and get Blaine out and get him to you, but if you hear it-you know what to do.”
She nods and nudges his cheek with the tip of her snout. Good luck.
He pats her once and heads off around the hill.
He’s glad of the forest as he gets closer to the fort, concealing his approach with its heavy branches and thick foliage. He’s not sure how he’s actually going to get in-there’s a bare strip of land two hundred yards wide between the treeline and the grey stone. Even if he makes it across without being seen, he still will have to climb over the wall.
He creeps through the undergrowth, footsteps falling soft on the leaf-ridden earth. There’s a strip of trees near the back of the fort that come closer to the wall-he’ll make for there and hope.
He runs as silently as possible through the trees, keeping a few feet back from the edge so that he can’t be seen from the fort. The rising sun glows golden on the tips of the towers at the four corners of the fort.
Suddenly, his foot catches on a branch or something, and he trips, going down onto his hands and knees. Cursing, he brushes back the leaves of the bushes he had just run through, trying to find the branch his foot is stuck under-
And is pulled up short. His foot isn’t stuck under a branch at all. Instead, it’s a metal rung, the kind you would find on the lid of a trapdoor.
He yanks his foot out, brushes away the leaves covering it, and looks down at what is indeed a trapdoor in the forest floor. There’s no way there would be one here unless it leads right into the castle.
He tugs on the rung. It’s stiff, and resists for a moment, but then slowly the lid slides off, revealing a dark hole in the ground.
Steeling himself-he hadn’t thought to bring any kind of light with him-Kurt settles his hands on either side of the hole before swinging his legs inside and dropping down into the tunnel.
If this leads him to Blaine, he will endure any dark, dank and disgusting tunnel thrown at him.
The light from the entrance spills down the tunnel a little way, but’s it’s hardly enough to go far. He reaches out and touches the walls on either side, and is relieved to find them dry. He settles his palms down and begins to walk.
He goes slowly, not wanting to trip or cause any loud noises that could echo up the tunnel and into-wherever it leads.
After a few minutes of walking, the tunnel starts going down, and he leans back, unsure of how steep it is. The downhill section only lasts a little while, though, then becomes flat again. He walks for a few more minutes and then is suddenly faced with an abrupt turn. He follows it, and is surprised to find soft light flooding the tunnel a little way ahead.
He hurries forward. The end of the tunnel is blocked by a doorway of metal bars; beyond, a corridor lit by a single candle. He pushes on the bars gently. To his relief, the door opens.
He steps out into the corridor, hesitant. It’s silent. He presumes he’s under the fort.
He moves slowly down the corridor, one hand clasped around the hilt of his sword, the other skimming along the cool stones of the wall. He comes to a bend, and peers around it cautiously.
The corridor opens up ahead, and he sees that the walls are lined with metal bars. The fort prison. The closest cells he can see are empty. With no evidence of everyone else around, he steps cautiously forward. His feet crunch on the hay spilling out through the cell bars, littering the flagstone floor.
There seem to be more cells off down separate branches ahead; he turns left on a whim. He’s just about to sneak down to the next turning when he hears voices ahead.
He plasters himself back against the wall, inching his way along, slowly, slowly, until he can just peer round the corner.
There are a couple of guards in Barrosse dress sitting in front of a cell, a candle stuck in a jar between them, hands on their swords. One of them says something funny and the other laughs. Kurt notices something move in the cell behind them at the sound, and looks up, and-
Blaine. Lying curled up on the floor of the cell, arms wrapped around his legs, but he’s there, he’s only a few feet away and he’s alive and Kurt has been worrying for days. He takes a deep breath and ducks back around the corner, mentally planning out his attack.
A couple of minutes later, he draws his sword as quietly as possible. He steadies his breathing, makes sure he’s balanced properly before he throws himself around the corner.
It’s over a lot quicker than he had expected. Both guards are completely taken by surprise. They jump up and fumble with their weapons, but Kurt is too quick. A series of well-placed blows and they hit the ground within seconds, unable to cry out for backup.
Blaine has shuffled over to the edge of the cell, and is gripping the metal hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. Kurt drops to his knees in front of him, reaching in and petting over his cheek and hair, making sure he’s okay.
“Are you-did they-you’re alive-“
“Kurt,” Blaine replies, placing his hand on Kurt’s wrist. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did, you idiot, I couldn’t-“ He huffs in frustration at the thick metal bars separating them and spins around, fumbles in the pockets of the dead guards for the keys. “We need to get you out of there.”
Finally he lays his hand on cool metal and pulls out a large ring of keys. He stands up, and tries about six of them in the lock until he finds the right one and the door grates open.
It’s then that he sees that Blaine’s ankles are chained to the cell, so he hurries over, clumsily inserting key after key until he can find one that fits. Blaine helps him tug them off, and gasps in pain as the metal drags against his skin.
There’s a moment of hesitation, then Blaine sags forwards into Kurt’s arms, and he wraps them around his student’s shoulders, holding him tight to his chest. Blaine clings to him, arms wrapped around his back, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Kurt strokes the hair at the back of his neck gently, just able to breathe in the smell of Blaine in his hair under all the dirt and sweat. He feels so small against him, and Kurt wants to keep him there forever.
They hold each other for a long while, until finally Blaine starts shifting and Kurt releases him, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. Blaine stumbles as he stands, falling against Kurt’s chest, but Kurt just holds onto his elbows gently and helps him right himself. With a pang, his sees that Blaine’s face is wet with tears.
He turns to leave the cell, keys grasped in his hand, but feels Blaine tugging at his wrist. Confused and worried that Blaine might still be chained up somewhere, he turns back around.
And is met with Blaine’s lips on his.
Kurt stiffens, surprised, but then Blaine’s hand cups his jaw and his fingers stroke over it gently, and Kurt realises-Blaine is kissing him. Blaine is kissing him. He thinks of all the times he’s had to restrain himself, to tell himself no, to keep their relationship as professional as possible. He thinks of the heated glances from Blaine, the slack of his face as he came calling out Kurt’s name, the feel of their bare chests pressed together. And he thinks of the deep, sickening fear he’s felt since he saw Blaine taken in the courtyard, that he could be hurt or even dead, and thinks, fuck it.
He gasps, and kisses back passionately, sucking Blaine’s bottom lip into his mouth and moaning quietly around it. Blaine inhales shakily through his nose and grips his waist, kissing him deeply.
They pull apart after a few seconds, faces close, gasping into the air between them.
“I’m-I’m sorry,” says Blaine, starting to pull away, but Kurt grabs him and kisses him again, fierce and brief.
“Don’t be,” he breathes. “Please, please don’t be sorry about this.”
Blaine looks at him, still a little uncertain, but nods, and pecks his lips once more.
“Let’s go,” he says.
They exit the cell quietly, hand in hand, and Kurt glances up and down the row. It appears empty. He steps over the guards’ bodies on the ground, hoping that they won’t be found until they’re out of the tunnel or farther. He leads Blaine towards where he remembers the entrance to the tunnel to be, glancing around each corner carefully.
They’re nearly there when he hears a shout from behind them, so he yanks on Blaine’s hand and runs towards the metal bars at the entrance. He’s about to reach when suddenly there’s a guard in front of him, sword raised and angry, appearing from seemingly nowhere. Kurt jumps back and realises there’s a concealed corridor next to the door into the tunnel.
He tosses Blaine the sword strapped to his back, then draws his own just in time to deflect the blow from the guard. He swipes for his legs, then twists his wrist up, bringing his sword around quickly to land with a crunch on the man’s ribs. He thanks the stars that the guard isn’t wearing armour and finishes him off with a stab to the chest.
Behind him, Blaine is facing off a couple of guards, sword held in both hands and legs trembling slightly. Kurt guesses he hasn’t had a lot to eat recently and jumps in to help him.
They finish off the two guards, but then there’s another shout from behind and a group of soldiers emerge from the concealed entrance. “Run!” Kurt shouts, and they take off through the prison, passing cell after cell. The place is a maze, so Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand to make sure that they don’t get separated.
The only way out now is through the fort, so he looks for a door or a flight of stairs as he runs. Finally, he sees a little corridor lit by torchlight, and pulls Blaine into it, sprinting down it as fast as possible and up the spiral staircase at the end.
Blaine is lagging behind him; he can feel the tug on his arm as he strives to keep up. At the top of the stairs, they find themselves in an empty room, two more corridors leading off.
He’s about to tug Blaine down the nearest one when a group of soldiers nearly fifteen strong emerges from the other, armed with swords and crossbows. They’re quick to surround them, and a couple more appear from the staircase, blocking their escape back down into the prison.
Kurt glances at Blaine and nods slightly before dropping his sword to the floor and holding his hands up in the air. Blaine follows suit, panting heavily, standing close to him.
The soldiers move closer and one of them pokes Kurt’s chest with the tip of his sword. “Let’s take ‘em to the king,” he says, voice gruff.
They’re escorted through the fort, and though Kurt tries to remember every turn so they can find their way back to the tunnel later, it’s hard when he’s got a drawn crossbow pressed to his back.
They’re pushed out into a large, vaulted room-obviously the main hall. There are a few tables at the sides of the room and a cold stone throne at the top. Before it, King Truos is pacing, face haggard and angry.
The guards push him to his knees in front of the throne, and Blaine sags down next to him. He keeps his hands in the air.
The king’s feet come into view, well-made leather boots scuffed with years of wear. He breathes carefully, and sees another pair of feet move next to the king’s.
Suddenly, there’s a hand under his chin, and his face is jerked up. He gasps.
Sebastian Smythe is smirking down at him.
Kurt’s eyes widen as he stares up at the knight, who is wearing the black and yellow of Barros. “Wha-“ he hisses, but Sebastian jerks his chin again and he shuts up.
“This is him,” Sebastian says softly, turning to the king. “Sir Hummel.” He sneers at Kurt one more time and releases his chin.
The king steps forward, sizing him up. He watches him silently for a while, and then looks at Sebastian. “I must say I’m impressed, Smythe,” he says. “Your little plan worked.”
Kurt freezes. Plan? Had this all been a trap?
Sebastian inclines his head. “I told you the boy would bring him running,” he says.
King Truos smiles-his grin ugly-and bent down to look at Blaine. “We haven’t got much use for him anymore, then,” he says. He glances at a nearby guard. “Take him away. You can do with him as you please. But keep him alive.”
Blaine gasps, and Kurt’s head shoots up. “No!” he shouts, scrambling over to Blaine and putting an arm around his shoulders. Blaine whimpers. “Please!”
Truos steps forward towards them. “You want to keep him?” he asks, derision clear in his voice. “You would prefer that little boy over my son?”
Son?
Truos must see the look of confusion on his face, because he smiles scornfully and goes to sit on his throne, holding a hand up at the guard moving forward to take Blaine. Kurt is momentarily relieved.
“That’s right,” continues the king. “Sebastian is mine. Surely it must have seemed suspicious to you, for him to disappear from your little… excursion, without any trace?”
Kurt hesitates before nodding reluctantly.
“He came to me. He’s been coming to me every year since he’s been at the Academy, Hummel. How else do you think I would have known about your little student, or your beast’s silly little party?” He scoffs. “You people are ridiculous. You believe that simply because some accords are in place, nothing can harm you. Well I have news for you, rider.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “You’re wrong.”
He settles back into the throne, throwing a leg up over one of the arms. “Of course, it was simple enough. Distract you with a little kerfuffle at the border. Pay one of your king’s men off to have the port clear and the gates open-does the name Vouton ring a bell? Then time everything perfectly to snatch up the boy on your big night, Smythe and my dragon Grief assisting, of course. We knew you’d come running.”
Kurt sits in shock. First Sebastian-then Vouton? And Truos had a dragon?
“What are you-why are you doing all this? What do you want with me?” he demands.
Truos laughs. “Hummel, dear. You’re the best rider in your kingdom. With you on our side the nation would fall like dead leaves from a tree.”
“You must be insane if you ever think I would go against my people.”
“Oh, I know. That’s why we’ve got boy-toy here. Sebastian has told me how you feel about him. Of course, we won’t allow you to see him but-“ He pauses, face darkening. “One disobeyed order and we kill him.”
Kurt’s arms tighten around Blaine, heart hammering inside his chest. He can’t-he can’t breathe, he’s panicking, and he can hear the steady quiet whimpers from Blaine. He needs to do something to get them out of here, and fast.
Truos gets up, gestures the guards to keep an eye on them, and leaves through a door at the side of the room with Sebastian.
Kurt thinks, Now’s my chance.
He reaches down to his ankle, feeling the knife he has hidden inside his boot. He pulls it out, slowly and carefully, as not to alert the guards to his movement. Then he leans down and whispers in Blaine’s ear, “With me.”
With a cry, Kurt spins around and stands up, flicking the knife at the soldier pointing a crossbow at them. It hits him bang in the neck and he cries out, crossbow going off and bolt hitting another guard in the chest. Kurt scrambles to get the dead guard’s sword and fights off another, grabbing his weapon and throwing it to Blaine. They stand back-to-back, exchanging blows with several guards at a time, getting increasingly bruised and tired.
Eventually, most of the guards who had been in the hall are either dead or injured on the ground. Kurt leaps up onto the throne, cups his hands around his mouth, and lets out an ear-splitting screech.
He knows it’ll alert anyone else in the fort, but Aera really needs to get here as soon as possible.
He jumps down and gathers Blaine up in his arms, pressing his face into his shoulder and holding him tightly.
“You okay?” he asks when they pull apart.
“Yes, I-I think so,” Blaine. “Just a bit shaken. And tired.”
Kurt nods and picks up a crossbow from a dead soldier, loading it. “What are you doing?” asks Blaine.
“Truos and Sebastian will be back soon. We need to be ready. You should get one too.”
They settle next to the throne, crossbows at the ready, and sure enough, a couple of minutes later the king and his son come running in.
Truos looks at the corpses littering the floor and starts towards them angrily, stopping short when Kurt holds up the crossbow and points it at him. “Stop right there,” he says. He gestures for them to kneel, and they do as instructed. He moves closer, aiming the crossbow at Truos’ head, Blaine doing the same with Sebastian.
“Now,” says Kurt. “Where is your dragon?”
“He’s-he’s out hunting,” Truos replies nervously.
“Really? When is he due back?”
Truos shrugs. “His trips usually take a few days.”
“Good,” says Kurt. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but it seems to be working. “So we’ll wait for him to return. For now, I want you to order all your soldiers to collect their weapons and leave them with me, then return home to their families.”
Truos glares at him, but then nods slowly. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth.
*
It takes a while, but eventually all the soldiers and guards are unarmed and sent away. Aera oversees the proceedings, growling menacingly at anyone who even tries to step out of line. When Kurt, Blaine, Sebastian and Truos are the only people left at the castle, he can finally breathe a deep sigh of relief.
He ties them up and sits guard over them while Blaine and Aera take a short flight south to see how close their reinforcements are. They return a few hours later with good news and a thunder of dragons.
Drin and the eleven other riders he has brought with him take over, telling Kurt and Blaine to find somewhere to sleep and get some rest.
They cuddle up together on the huge bed in what must be Truos’ room, limbs tangled together, and immediately fall into a deep and very welcome sleep.
*
The journey back home is slower than the journey there, but then they’re finally flying over the Academy, dropping in through the opening at the top of the Rafters and landing with a loud thump on the straw-covered floor. Kurt sags forwards against Aera’s neck and Blaine sags forwards against him.
Truos and Sebastian have been imprisoned. With the help of so many dragons, Grief was trapped on his return from his hunting trip, and taken into custody. The Barrosse army attacking villages in the North has been ordered to retreat. All is right again.
There’s an excited shriek from a sub-room above them. Kurt looks up, and sees Tarron, big and shining and happy, leap down towards them.
Blaine immediately slides off Aera’s back, stumbling as his feet hit the ground, and rushes over to his dragon, flinging his arms around his neck and burying his face in his scales. Kurt smiles fondly at them.
Eventually, he drags himself off the saddle and lets her and Tarron reunite, crowing happily and dancing around each other. He walks over to Blaine and gently takes his hand, and they stand and watch their dragons, laughing together. Blaine leans against him and drops his head onto his shoulder.
After a while, Aera nods to him then up at the sky, and Kurt smiles back at her. She and Tarron immediately take off, shooting up into the air and out into the sunshine.
“Mmm,” says Blaine, turning his face into Kurt’s shoulder and sliding a hand across his waist. “Maybe we should go and celebrate our return too.”
Kurt blushes and pulls back so that he can look at his face. “Blaine Anderson,” he exclaimes. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Blaine glances off to the side coyly. “Possibly.”
Kurt gapes at him, mock affronted, then grabs his shoulders and pulls him into a deep kiss. “Okay,” he murmurs against his lips. “My bed is bigger.”
Blaine giggles and grabs his hand.
As soon as they’re inside the door to Kurt’s chambers, he pulls Blaine flush against him, kissing him open-mouthed and hungry. Blaine is eager to retaliate, licking into his mouth and wrapping a leg around Kurt’s. “Mm, Kurt,” he breathes. “You taste delicious.”
Kurt laughs because he’s been travelling for days and he’s fairly certain he does not taste delicious, but it’s nice of Blaine to say so. “Come on,” he mutters, fingers on Blaine’s waist. “Bedroom.”
Blaine giggles and bounds happily into the room, immediately dropping onto the bed and tugging on his boots. Kurt follows at a slower pace, unbuckling his belt and shrugging his chainmail off into a heap on the floor.
“Gosh, you actually are five years old,” he says as Blaine bounces across the bed to him, expression open and eager.
“You like it, though,” says Blaine, eyes teasing. “That I’m younger.”
Kurt sighs and sits on the side of his bed to take off his boots as well. Blaine plasters himself against his back and immediately starts kissing at the skin behind his ear. “You’re ri-ght, ah Blaine, I do.”
Blaine giggles and tugs at his shoulders. “Come on.”
Kurt kicks off his last boot and turns around, crawling onto the bed and over Blaine, forcing him to shuffle up the mattress on his back. Blaine immediately curves a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a heated kiss. He moans against Kurt’s mouth and cards his fingers through his hair, sending shivers of delight down his spine.
“Mm,” says Kurt breathlessly. “You sure you’ve never kissed anyone before? Because you’re pretty good at that.”
“Nope, only you.” Blaine kisses him again and tugs at the front of his leather shirt. “C’mon, too many clothes.”
“Okay, okay.” Kurt sits back on his heels between Blaine’s legs and undoes the laces on his shirt before pulling it over his head, leaving only his cotton undershirt behind. Blaine sits forwards and slides his hands up underneath the hem, over the skin of Kurt’s waist and stomach.
“God, Kurt, you’re so soft,” he mutters. “But like-muscly underneath. Soft and hard.” He looks up and kisses him. “I like it.”
Kurt tugs his cotton shirt off and tosses it somewhere across the room, then immediately returns his focus to Blaine. He runs his fingers through thick curls and bends down to kiss at Blaine’s jaw, mouthing his way down to the top of his shirt. Blaine pushes him away playfully and yanks it off, leaving them both shirtless.
Kurt catches Blaine’s mouth in a kiss, laying him down against the soft sheets and hovering above him, holding himself up on the pillows. Blaine grunts and pulls at his shoulders until their chests are pressed together, skin-to-skin contact sending a flare of arousal through Kurt’s body.
He’s hard, straining against his leather pants, and Blaine rocks his hips up against him, moaning loudly. “Kurt-ah! Kurt-“
“Mmm, yeah?” gasps Kurt, sucking a series of marks down Blaine’s neck. He feels him pushing at his shoulder and leans back a bit so he can see his face. “What?”
Blaine looks so, so, innocent right then. Kurt knows he’s doing it because he knows he likes it, but still-wow. “Kurt, can I ask-“
“What? Anything you want, baby. I’ll give it to you.”
Blaine stares at him, eyes wide. “Want you to fuck me,” he says softly.
Kurt gasps, a wave of arousal shooting down his spine, so intense that he has to close his eyes. When he opens them again, Blaine still looks innocent, but there’s a rather overt hint of teasing to it as well.
“Yes,” he’s quick to say, “yes, yes, Blaine, God, want to-want to fuck you so bad.”
“So do it,” says Blaine.
He scrambles to get his pants and underwear off, kicking them onto the floor and leaving him naked, dick erect. He wraps his hand around it, blessed relief, and looks at Blaine, who is staring at his cock with his mouth open.
“Like what you see?” asks Kurt, and Blaine nods, eyes wide.
“C’mon, pants off,” he urges, and Blaine slides off the bed to tug off his pants. He pulls down his underwear, and Kurt stares at the perfect globes of his ass in the light from the window.
Blaine turns around shyly, his cock red and hard. Kurt swallows and holds out a hand for him to join him on the bed. Blaine goes willingly.
It’s more serious now, a little less playful giggling. Blaine lies out on his back against the pillows while Kurt gets the little pot of oil from the drawer and sets it on the edge of his night table. Then he kneels between Blaine’s spread thighs, both of them breathing unsteadily.
Kurt leans down and kisses Blaine, soft and sweet, and brushes his fingertips gently down the expanse of his neck. Blaine sighs contently.
Their kissing gets more intense, and Kurt trails his fingertips down Blaine’s chest, stopping to rub over his nipples. Blaine gasps and his hips jolt. “Tha-that feels good,” he says.
Kurt smiles and lowers his mouth to cover a nipple, flicking the bud with his tongue before sucking on it, hard. “Ku-urt,” gasps Blaine, hips rocking up and brushing their cocks together. Kurt moves across to the other nipple, and gives it the same treatment.
Blaine’s cock is already leaking precome onto his stomach, the tip purple. Kurt wraps his fingers around it gently, marvelling at his pale skin against the flush of Blaine’s, and Blaine whines, hips bucking up.
Kurt strokes up and down a few times, the fingers of his other hand trailing down Blaine’s thigh. “God, Kurt, if you don’t stop that I’m going to-ahh-come,” Blaine moans.
“Go ahead,” says Kurt. “It’ll make it easier after.”
Blaine sucks in a deep breath and Kurt starts pumping his fist faster, leaning forward to kiss him. Blaine writhes underneath him for a few minutes, panting loudly, until he’s gripping Kurt’s back and bucking his hips up and coming all over his belly and Kurt’s fist.
Kurt strokes him through it, then leans back when he’s done, picking up the pot on the night stand. Blaine’s chest is heaving, red-flushed skin striped with thick pearly white. Kurt aches to be inside him.
“Okay,” says Kurt, putting the pot precariously on the mattress beside them. “Are you ready, can I start fingering you open?”
Blaine squeaks and nods, spreading his legs wider and exposing the pucker of his ass. Kurt licks his lips subconsciously and dips his fingers into the oil, coating them liberally.
He takes his time stretching Blaine. He knows that this is his first time, and he doesn’t want to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. Blaine moans as he inserts his third finger, pushing his head back into the pillow, face scrunched up in pleasure.
“That feel good?” asks Kurt.
“Yes-so good, Kurt, can you-“ Kurt brushes over his prostate again and Blaine mewls, one hand grabbing onto Kurt’s thigh and squeezing it tight. “I never-ah-never thought it would feel this good.”
Kurt chuckles and moves closer, forcing Blaine’s legs to spread wider. He moves his fingers in and out, scissoring them a little inside, until Blaine is squeezing the base of his already hardened cock and scratching his nails down his thigh.
“Okay, I can, please, I’m ready-“
“You sure?”
Blaine nods frantically, looking up at him with his eyes half-lidded. Kurt wipes his fingers off and lines himself up, shuffling forward so he can put his hands on the pillow on either side of Blaine’s head. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
He pushes in excruciatingly slowly until the head of his cock slips past Blaine’s rim and the slide is easier. Still, he inches forward, giving Blaine time to breathe, his eyelids fluttering. He strokes his fingers gentle over Blaine’s hair, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, and bottoms out.
Kurt stops moving, a bead of sweat dripping down his arm. Blaine’s eyes are closed. “Tell me when you’re ready,” Kurt says softly.
Blaine slides a hand down his back and over his ass, squeezing a cheek gently. “Okay,” he says. “You can move.”
Kurt rocks slowly at first, fucking him deeply. Blaine moans and leans up to catch his lips. Kurt responds happily, sucking on Blaine’s upper lip and slipping his tongue into his mouth. Blaine cards a hand through his hair and squeezes his ass again, then pulls back a little to whisper, “Faster.”
Kurt pushes Blaine up the bed as his movements quicken. Sliding a hand down to Blaine’s knee, he hitches it up to his chest, changing the angle a bit and allowing him to go deeper. Blaine groans, reaching down to grasp his cock. Kurt takes this as a good sign, so he grabs Blaine’s other leg and hooks both over his shoulders.
Blaine is bent almost in half, letting out breathy little sighs with each deep thrust of Kurt’s cock. He hooks his ankles together behind Kurt’s head as he leans up to kiss him again-all the training had certainly made him flexible.
Kurt fucks him harder and faster and Blaine is crying out, precome dribbling from his dick onto his stomach. “Ku-Kurt-I’m gonna-gonna come-“
“Come, baby. Say my name.”
Blaine’s eyes fly open and their gazes lock. Kurt gives an extra hard thrust, tipping Blaine over the edge until he’s digging his head into the pillow, letting out a loud cry of “Kurt!”
The sight alone would have been enough to set Kurt off, but the sound-it’s the same sound he heard that night weeks ago, and the thought that now he has Blaine underneath him, and crying out his name because he told him to-
His hips shudder, and he presses his face into Blaine’s neck, whimpering. “Blaine-I-ah, God-Blaine, I love you-“
He comes hard, grinding into Blaine’s ass, and promptly collapses on top of him.
*
The sun is shining, birds are singing, and a fresh breeze is drifting on the air. Kurt gently traces his fingers over the shape of Blaine’s brand, watching a dragonfly flit above the water.
They’re down by a calm patch of river a few miles south of the city, cloaks spread out on the grass and the remains of their picnic around them. Blaine is lying back with his head against Tarron’s leg, and Kurt is lying with his head against Blaine’s belly.
He sighs happily, and turns his head so he can squint up at Blaine’s face. His student and lover’s skin is a warm gold in the sunlight, hazel eyes shining, and he looks absolutely beautiful. Kurt tells him so.
Blaine blushes and ducks his head. “I think you’re pretty beautiful, too, you know,” he says quietly, tracing a finger over Kurt’s eyebrows. Kurt closes his eyes contently. They lie in silence for a while, just touching each other softly, until Kurt feels Blaine shift his legs and opens his eyes.
“Did you mean it?” asks Blaine.
“Mean what?”
Blaine glances at Aera and Tarron are sleeping with their snouts pressed closed together. “What you said to me. When-when you came.”
Kurt thinks back to the previous afternoon, and realises with a jolt what he had breathed out into the skin of Blaine’s neck. He hasn’t even thought about it since then.
“I did,” he replies, not wanting to meet Blaine’s eyes for fear of rejection. But then there are fingers lifting his chin, and Blaine is smiling at him as if he had just fetched him the moon.
“I love you, too,” he says softly, and leans down to kiss him.