This story requires a bit of an explanation I think. The world it's set in is different from our own because gay marriage is an accepted, though not exactly common part of life. There is also a huge Slave Trade, and in the valley where Blaine and Kurt live now, the town of Laurel Hill holds a Slave Market every two months. Based around the time of the 1850s. There is a gold rush going on and times are hard, causing many men to turn to alcohol/drugs/other ways of escape. The valley is also in a colony away from the mainland and there aren't many women or families around, meaning the men are often starved for sexual company. So that leads up to a lot of the problems in this story.

Please enjoy and review!


"So I hope there are no hard feelings, Little Princess." Madame smiled with sickly sweetness as she sat before Kurt and delivered the life changing news. "I know you've brought a lot to our brothel, and you've been the one to gather the highest paying customers every time. But we're selling the whole place, so we'll be selling you too. The slave market's in two days, so we have that long to get you all prettied up for our highest bidder."

"No hard feelings," Kurt's voice was bland, but he was in turmoil. His entire life had just been flipped upside down and he was only told two days before it was happening? Completely unfair.

But then, nothing had ever been fair for Kurt. And he should have known that with the slave market approaching and Madame leaving to get married, he was nearing the time where he'd be sold on. Madame could always read him too well, and she smiled nastily as she picked up on his racing thoughts.

"Don't be scared of getting sold. There's really nothing for a pretty like dove like you to worry about. Be on your best behaviour and I'll make sure you get someone attractive enough to keep to satisfied." She smiled as if she were doing him a favour.

Kurt wanted to say that he didn't care how attractive the new owner was, he would still hate them as much as he hated every man who'd ever paid the fee and lain with him. Kurt wanted to slap Madame across the face and curse her for ruining his life. He wanted to beg and plead that she wouldn't parade him in front of the audience of prospective buyers and let them touch him all over before they decided if he were worth whatever outlandish price she asked for. He wanted to break down. But he hadn't done that for five whole years. Not since his father had died and he'd been thrown on the ship leaving the Mainland.

So he nodded and thanked her instead.

"With your sexual prowess, I'm sure you'll sell for hundreds more than the others. Your training wasn't for nothing, you know." Madame flicked her hand and Kurt was dismissed. Her greedy eyes returned to the money she was counting almost immediately.

Kurt turned to go, feeling a little sick at the thought of the huge world that he was about to be cast into. As much as he hated the brothel, it was the only life he remembered that didn't seem like a dream. He didn't know how to do anything but please man after man on Madame's orders. Anything else seemed impossible.

"Oh and Princess?" Kurt paused by the door and waited for her to continue, holding his breath. "You can talk one of your odd little walks. The guards are waiting."

Kurt's face brightened a little.

"Thank you Madame, I appreciate it." He murmured, darting from the room as quickly as he could and closing the door on her blatantly false call of 'anything for my favourite'.

He knew that this was a bribe to make sure he didn't put up a fuss, but Kurt really didn't care. He loved walks, and he wasn't about to turn one down. It was a chance to finally get away from the brothel for a few hours. It was a chance to walk until he could make his muscles hurt in a good way. And then he could sit in the General Store for the last hour and talk to the lovely Mrs and Mr Chang who owned it. They were the only people in this place who looked at him without lust or hatred in their eyes. In fact Kurt practically skipped to where the two angry men waited to walk him down.

Though they were silent and fuming at being given the boring task of accompanying him, Kurt found it easy to ignore them. He walked on ahead with his head high, breathing in the air and ignoring the stares that followed him.

It wasn't long before his mind latched onto his current dilemma. He almost wanted to be sold into another brothel. That way he would be able to continue as he always did, hating the faceless men that came to him while he pretended to love them, eating meals with the other prostitutes and actually getting along with some of them, living in his own little bubble, and thriving on the small moments of freedom he was allowed. The routine of his life was easier than the idea of facing something unknown. But Kurt was also worried that in another brothel he wouldn't be allowed the same freedoms and he was now. They might treat him badly. They might never let him out for a walk. The other girls might be cruel. In the end, Kurt knew there were certain perks he was only treated to as Madame's favourite.

So perhaps he would be better off with someone buying him and taking him back to their house. At least they'd be rich if they'd had the money to afford him. (Kurt's reputation preceded him after all.) So he'd live in fairly good conditions. The problem would be if the man he was sold to was violent or cruel. Kurt would be stuck with them a long time.

And then what would happen when the man was ready to start a proper family with a nice clean girl or guy from the Mainland. Kurt would be thrown out and sold on like every other slave, and he'd be left in yet another uncertain position as he was sold again.

"How long are we walking today?" The whiney voice made Kurt whirl around, his scattered thoughts interrupted.

"For as long as I say we walk." Kurt said stiffly. "And then we're going to General Store."

The guards both groaned loudly, and Kurt's eyes narrowed. He hated when the sacred calm of the walks were disturbed.

"I'd advise you both to stop complaining. In fact I don't even want you to speak." His voice lowered dangerously. He licked his lips and moved in closer, making them both shift nervously. "Because I don't like to be interrupted. And Madame won't like hearing about her Little Princess being touched without her permission."

"We never touched you!" The other guard protested, looking furious that Kurt would dare to threaten them.

Smiling, Kurt reached out a finger and stroked in across the first guard's chest, letting it linger as he sucked in a startled breath.

"Ooops," Kurt lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Now you did."

They looked outraged, but there was nothing they could do. If it was Kurt's word against theirs, they would lose. It was easier just to let him have his way. Both fell silent, still fuming. Kurt turned and began walking again, beckoning them along behind him.

"Hurry up." He snapped, glancing back one more time.

Both guards thought they'd never seen someone with such cold, closed-off eyes.

Blaine tipped his cap up so that he could squint at the sign hanging over the shop in front of him. The General Store stood in the middle of a series of tired old buildings that had been worn by the dust churned up on the well-used road. Blaine had driven all day to get into town from his farm, and it was not worth the effort. He hated the depressing air that hung over the whole place, and the rough men that came through. He hated the lazy heat and the dead eyes that watched newcomers with tired curiosity. Right now he could feel a few people watching him from the windows of other shops, and a row of men arguing loudly as they left the bar down the road.

Sighing, he led his horse to the side of the street and tied him to the water trough outside the store. He made sure his cart was well out of the way of other travellers and within sight of the door, because you never knew when some young man would decide to help himself.

That was the problem with this town. No one could be trusted. Especially around the slave market days, when folks from all around would pour in just to ogle at the people on sale.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Pavarotti." Blaine murmured, running his hands through the horse's mane and then striding through clouds of dust to the store.

The bell rang out as he opened the door and shut it quickly behind himself to keep the heat out. Blaine pulled off his hat and hung it on the hook at the door, brushing his shoes across the mat to minimise the dust he was tracking inside.

Peering around the dim shop, he expected nothing but the same stacks of assorted items that were scattered around the few times he'd come to town, and the friendly face of Mike Chang greeting him from behind the counter. But the counter was empty, and there were three figures in the corner of the room Blaine had never seen before. He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath that escaped him at the sight of them.

Well, it wasn't really all three that had captured him. It was only one of them.

The boy sat in a chair with a steaming cup of tea in his hands, his face bright as he focused on the book in his lap. He was entirely ignoring the two surly men seated on either side of him, and so it was easy for Blaine to do the same.

Instead he just stared.

The boy hadn't even looked up when the bell had gone off, but seemed wrapped up in the pages in front of him. One hand traced absent-mindedly through his hair, which was brown and honey light all at once, and swept up loosely off his face in a way Blaine had never seen before. His brow furrowed as he read and his blue intelligent eyes flickered quickly across the page. His nose was sweeter than any Blaine had ever seen and he immediately wondered if it scrunched up when the boy smiled, of if he had dimples that blossomed by the sides of those lips- Which were soft and pink and actually faintly mouthing the words as he read along.

Blaine felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He had never seen anyone like this before.

He wanted to talk to him. He had to. Blaine actually took a few steps forward on his shaky legs. But one of the men suddenly shifted and Blaine's attention was drawn away from the angel. Snapping back into reality was slightly disconcerting. Blaine regarded the man, and then the other companion, with confusion.

He realised how weird it was that this delicate boy was sitting in the corner of the grocery store with two burly men who certainly weren't related to him. And oh, Blaine felt his heart plummet as he looked at him again, and really looked.

Because he wasn't exactly a normal person, and now Blaine understood why someone of such rare beauty was in a town like this. The biggest indicator was the clothes. He worse a lose fitting pale blue top that almost exactly matched his eyes and hung off one shoulder, revealing the pale, soft skin beneath it. And his pants, in contrast, were so tight they may as well have been created to cut of circulation in his… legs. Blaine imagined that if he stood up, they would leave little to the imagination. Which of course, was the desired effect.

Because Blaine now realised that Kurt must be in town to be sold.

And this was why Blaine hadn't wanted to come to town so close to the slave market. This is why he wouldn't have come if his supplies running out hadn't forced him to. He didn't want to see the slaves.

The Slave Market happened every two months and Blaine avoided it like the plague and blushed at the mere mention of it. He'd only seen it once, his first time in town as a grown man.

All the people dragged out were either to be sold as prostitutes or manual labourers. There was no in-between; not in a place like this. Not this country, so far from the Mainland where normal society thrived.

No, out here women or gay men were few and far between. Out here when people wanted a partner, they'd return to the Mainland and find a respectable person to bring back and live on their new farms. Little communities popped up with a few of these families who never saw the bad side of the country. Blaine hated that he'd seen the bad side.

He'd seen the men, starved of the company of lovers, who would leap at the chance to buy their own 'maid', use them, and throw them out when they were ready to settle down. He'd seen the brothels and the bars. He'd seen the way women and occasional men were brought from prisons or orphanages on the Mainland and trained in the art of sex. Because that was what brought money in out here, more so than any other job. Sex was in high demand, because there was hardly any opportunity for it.

So the slave market was very popular. Two things people needed; cheap workers to do manual labour on the new farms or in the goldfields, or someone to satisfy their cravings or add to the list of workers in their brothel.

And Judging by this boy's slightly feminine features and peerless grace, Blaine guessed he didn't fall under the 'manual labour' category.

And Blaine had been staring at him like some leering creep.

He felt his cheeks flame as he looked quickly away. No one had noticed him staring, but he still felt vulgar and despicable. He always considered himself above those men who went so crazy they threw away all their morals just to feel something. They didn't mind violating any girl or guy offered to them and Blaine had found that repulsive. Yet suddenly he was faced with a beautiful creature like something right out of a dream and his knees felt weak. He forgot every thought and let himself devour him with his eyes.

Blaine shook his head at himself as he began to make his way down the first isle. He was determined to be as respectful as always and leave this boy alone. He was probably going to be gone off with some new owner in two days and it was stupid for Blaine to start mooning over him.

Glancing at the counter in annoyance again, Blaine wished Mike was there. The store owner was one of the only decent people in the entire town. He and his wife, Tina had moved here from the mainland seven years ago, right when Blaine had first started setting up his farmstead. He'd quickly bonded with the pair, who felt as much on the outs as Blaine in this town. But Blaine didn't think he'd ever wanted to see them quite this badly.

As soon as Mike came out from wherever he was, Blaine could sell his crop, buy new supplies, and get out of there. He had planned on staying for dinner, but now he just needed to get back to the open country air and away from this culture he still despised.

Blaine wandered around the shop, cataloguing items that he needed. Mike was taking a long time. In fact Blaine had never known him to leave the counter for so long. And the longer he spent waiting the more often Blaine's gaze drifted back to the boy in the corner. Maybe he should talk to the boy. Just to see if he knew where Mike was. Not because of anything else.

Not because Blaine wanted to hear his voice. No way.

He just wanted to get out of there, and the sooner he found Mike the sooner he could do that.

So Blaine span on his heel and…

Promptly knocked over a barrel of boiled candies.

Kurt was startled out of his book world by a loud clatter and the sudden smack of something small and hard on his shins. He drew back automatically, dropping his book and narrowly avoiding spilling his tea.

But it was quickly obvious that there was no real threat.

The boy in front of him was on his knees scrambling to collect the candy that was still spilling from the upturned barrel beside him. He was blushing furiously and Kurt cocked his head a little as he took him in; all tiny waist, strong arms, curly hair, and sweet embarrassment.

Something stirred deep inside Kurt. There was a fluttering in his chest he hadn't felt for years. Usually, Kurt didn't notice when men were attractive. He had long been turned away from those sorts of thoughts. This time, however, he couldn't help but pick up on the fact that the man in front of him was quite lovely indeed. In fact, an appropriate word would be adorable.

But then he remembered where he was and who he was. That alone was enough to snap him out of his trance. He set his tea cup down and schooled his face into coldness. The flutter was gone. He felt an odd sense of loss at its absence. For something that he hadn't felt in at least five years, it had seemed oddly right.

"I'm really sorry," The boy said before he was even finished cleaning up. He brushed his hands off on his trousers and turned to face Kurt, eyes huge and earnest and- dammit the fluttering was back.

"I hope I didn't hurt you." He stood up and Kurt was surprised and more than a little amused at how short he was. "I didn't mean to knock that over I-I just didn't see it."

Kurt was suddenly aware of both his guards standing, and making a move toward the boy. He held up a hand to stop them.

"He's not going to hurt me, so mind your own business." Kurt hissed.

The boy blinked nervously and looked between the two men as they glared at Kurt and sat back down. Kurt tiled his head at the boy again, waiting for him to continue. His curiosity was piqued. And he realised, as the boy's eyes returned to his face, what was so different about him.

The boy was looking him in the eye. He wasn't enjoying Kurt's body or avoiding him altogether. He was just talking to him like any other person might. The tight pants, the exposed skin, the faint traces of makeup on Kurt's face… none of it distracted or disgusted him. And Kurt was not used to that.

"I'm Blaine." He stuck out a hand to shake, but when Kurt paused his blush grew even darker and the hand dropped to his side again. Kurt liked the name, even if he didn't want to shake the hand and feel the rough callouses of a hard day's work brush against the soft skin of his palms that forever reminded him of what his hands were needed for.

Kurt, he wanted to reply. But no one alive knew his real name expect for Mike and Tina, and one girl he had known long ago. Kurt wasn't about to change that now.

"They call me the Little Princess." Kurt shrugged, the shirt he was wearing slipping off his shoulder to expose more skin in the same movement. Blaine's eyes flickered down and traced briefly across the line of his collarbone.

Kurt's entire body went cold.

He was stupid, he was so stupid for thinking that Blaine would be different. Just because he had that innocent smile and those warm golden eyes, it didn't mean the same thoughts weren't buzzing in his brain. No guy was ever different. They all just wanted a closer look. And even though Blaine's gaze hardly lingered, snapping right back up to his face, Kurt's moment of openness was shattered.

"Can I ask you a question?" Blaine said, shuffling. He hadn't noticed Kurt's change in demeanour.

"You just did." Kurt couldn't help that he sounded bitter now. Blaine's brow furrowed at the sound and he searched Kurt's face for some sort of explanation. Kurt retreated further into his mask of ice. It seemed to be putting Blaine off, so he didn't regret a thing.

"No I just- Where's Mike? Or Tina?" He gestured toward the counter, but those soul-searching eyes stayed fixed of Kurt's.

"They left so I could have some peace and quiet. Ring the bell and they'll come." Kurt turned away hurriedly, and grabbed his book off the floor. He wanted Blaine to leave and he wanted him to leave now.

"Thank you-" Blaine began.

"Fuck off." Kurt was pleased to see the way Blaine seemed to choke on his own tongue. He obviously didn't expect such harsh words to come from such a pretty boy. Well then, he should sit around and eat a meal or two with the prettiest and most 'innocent' prostitutes in the brothel. He'd be in for a surprise.

Blaine's shock pleased Kurt. He felt in control of his emotions again. Watching Blaine flounder, Kurt shot him a sweet, angelic smile, and swept down the nearest aisle.

The guards followed and the door swung shut with one last tinkling of the bell.

Alone in the shop, Blaine forced himself to close his mouth. He shouldn't feel so lonely at the sudden disappearance of the boy he had only just met, much less one who used language like that. Much less one with Kurt's… profession.

But he did feel suddenly like he had made some horrible mistake, though he had no idea what that might be.

He shouldn't want the boy to come back. He'd seen what he was. He'd seen his heartless eyes, even though for a moment he'd convinced himself that there was some sort of fondness there. There was nothing Blaine should want back.

So he walked up to the counter and rang the bell hanging there.

He would sell his produce, buy what he needed, and get out of there.

Blaine didn't have to see the rows of broken people who had been taken from prisons and orphanages and right off the streets back on the Mainland before being shoved into dank ships and taken out here. Blaine didn't need to hear the loud bragging of how each slave had been trained in sexual acts until they were satisfactory.

Blaine would ride like the wind back to his beautiful house and his lush land and lose himself in the rugged loneliness of the countryside again. He wouldn't need to lie awake for nights on end remembering what the rows of slaves looked like, or the lack of humanity in the eyes of the people buying them.

And he wouldn't remember Kurt.

If Blaine ignored the problem, he could just pretend it didn't exist, right?