Kurt Hummel, only son of Burt, Lord of Lima, was riding through the woods, deeply in thought. It was a fine day in late summer, but the sun that shone through the leaves above him could not put a smile on the young lord's face. It wasn't that he had anything substantial to grieve him. Kurt had recently concluded his studies in town, where he had attended college and also a lot of balls, fêtes and parties. Now, returned home to the hall of his fathers, he had nothing to do but wait for his father to turn affairs over to him, something that was hopefully far away, as after his recent health troubles, lord Burt was again a hale and hearty man who despised being idle. Kurt had no such qualms; he quite enjoyed spending his days riding and reading and visiting his excellent tailor for ever new additions to his extensive wardrobe. There was just one thing he was missing.

Upon his return, his father had sat him down and quite sternly demanded he give up his rakish ways and settle down. At the time, Kurt hadn't minded; Lord Burt had sweetened the demand with promises of him being allowed more responsibility regarding his life in other matters, and had kept his promise: for the time being, Kurt's time was his own until his father would decide to groom him to take over. Moreover, before he went away, Kurt had dallied with most of the willing young noblemen in and around Lima, and he hadn't changed his ways much when in town. A change had seemed in order, especially as there was no one left he had set his sights on, and would rather not repeat an affair with somebody lest he provoked expectations of more than a few weeks of mutual pleasure.

But now...he didn't know if it was boredom or loneliness. He liked having his days to spend as he would, but he missed having someone to spend them with; no matter what people said, he had enjoyed his lovers' presence not only in the bedroom. Maybe, he mused, he should defy his father's orders for once. He was a good, dutiful son in general, but after all, how was he supposed to find someone to settle down with if he wasn't allowed to dally? If it didn't work out, then, if he and his lovers parted ways because they were heartily sick of each other's company, well, that was hardly his fault alone, was it?

That left the question of who was left. Who of the young men of the peerage would be available to him, who would be attractive and interesting and afford the necessary novelty to keep him amused for some time?

He could think of no one. For a moment, he wished he was even in the slightest inclined towards women, but he couldn't change that he wasn't—and the daughters of his neighbors were generally even more protected than the sons.

His deep sigh was echoed by another, and in turning, he realized he had reached a clearing with a small pond and a bench, a place he had often used to seduce a lover. The young man sitting on the bench had not noticed him, a sign of how deeply he must be engrossed in sighing and the writing of a letter or a poem, an awkward affair on a bench without a table.

Kurt observed the young man for a moment. He was handsome, even as he was fighting with the way his quill tried to poke holes into the paper he was writing on, and Kurt couldn't quite believe he had never seen him before - but then he realized he had. This must be the younger brother of Cooper Anderson, Viscount Dalton since the death of his father last year. Kurt had had a fun little thing with Cooper back when he had still been title-less but no less entitled, and although he generally liked his lovers less self-absorbed, he had mostly good memories of the affair. It had certainly been enough to keep him focused on Cooper to the point of completely overlooking his younger brother

A mistake he intended to rectify right now.

Silently dismounting, he went across the clearing to the bench Anderson was sitting on, still trying to write and occasionally sighing. With effort, he kept himself from looking over the young man's shoulder too closely, for the writing looked like a poem, and the sighs made it all the more interesting to Kurt. A declaration of unrequited love, perhaps? Or was the lover far away or otherwise unreachable?

"Only schoolwork used to make me sigh so much," he said.

The young man on the bench exclaimed loudly and flinched so violently he overturned his ink well, spilling the ink over his fine tan breeches.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," Kurt said. "I never meant to startle you. I apologize, I should have announced myself sooner."

"It matters little," Anderson said, ineffectually dabbing at the stain with a monogrammed kerchief from his pocket. "I was so occupied with myself you could have had a trumpet sound your arrival, I wouldn't have noticed it."

"Still," Kurt said. "I insist on making amends. Please, you must allow me to take you to my house so you can borrow some of my clothes, and someone can treat this stain so maybe your breeches can be saved."

They were fine breeches, but saving them was not on Kurt's mind at all. Removing them, more so.

When Anderson hesitated, Fate showed she was on Kurt's side when a cloud moved in front of the sun, making the clearing look gloomy all of a sudden.

"My house is much closer than yours, if I'm not mistaken, and it looks like rain. I would hate for you to get wet on top of everything else."

"You know who I am, then, my lord?" the young man asked, finally looking up from his breeches, lifting his very fine eyes to meet Kurt's.

"I remember being introduced to you some years ago. It was at a ball...Lady Susan Sylvester, I think. I confess I forgot your given name, but you are the Viscount Dalton's younger brother."

Apparently, in hindsight, the young man had left an impression after all, until Kurt had been too occupied with his brother to notice him.

"Blaine Anderson, at your service," the young man said, rising and offering his hand to shake. "I'm happy to meet you again, my lord."

Kurt took Blaine's—Anderson's, it wouldn't do to get away with oneself—hand in a firm grip. "Kurt Hummel. Now, since we're all reacquainted, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my home so I can make amends for so carelessly ruining your clothes?"

"Very well. Though there's really no need, but if you insist..."

"I do," Kurt said. "Please come, before it rains."

All conversation halted until they were at the house, for it did, indeed, start to rain, and in spite of considerable haste on the way back, they were wet through.

Kurt ordered hot water for washing for both of them, and set Blaine up in a guest room close to his own, to change into dry and clean clothes before tea and a light repast.

Lord Burt was away, so Kurt would not have to fear his reproving looks just yet, although as he had no intention of keeping his relationship to Blaine a secret, he probably would have to sooner or later, assuming as he did that there would be a relationship to Blaine his father could disapprove of.

But for the moment, it also meant that he could have Blaine's company all to himself, which was something he intended to make use of immediately. Especially since Blaine walking downstairs in clothes borrowed from Kurt was a sight that gave him a thrill like little before.

"Don't feel obliged to satisfy my idle curiosity," he said once they were comfortably settled downstairs, with tea and little sandwiches and cakes before them. "But I have been wondering what you were writing that made you sigh so much."

"Not schoolwork," Blaine said with an embarrassed little smile and a shrug.

"You don't have to tell me. I would never want to make you uncomfortable."

Blaine shook his head. "No, my lord. You have been most kind to me and have, I think, earned to be let into my confidence to a degree. You must have guessed that it is a matter of...well, love."

"I confess I did," Kurt said, smiling as he watched Blaine take a delicate bite from one of the sandwiches, followed by two much less delicate. It made him wonder how it would be to make him lose care and caution in bed, intent only on his pleasure. "Hence my curiosity. It is hard to imagine a matter of love would make you sigh so, since I'm sure you must have had more than your share of offers."

"Thank you, my lord. I have indeed received a few offers, but I turned them down because I have been in love with one individual for a long time now."

Kurt leaned forward curiously. "Since when? And, more importantly, with whom?"

Blaine smiled, shaking his head. "I won't tell you his name, my lord. You have not earned my confidence quite that much. But as to since when—it must have been the same ball where we were introduced when I first set eyes on him."

"That's a long time. And there's no hope for him to return your feelings?"

Blaine laughed, a trifle bitter. "I have not even had the courage to approach him on the matter. I think now that rejecting everyone who approached me was a mistake, maybe."

"Why? It seems rather...romantic, if one likes that sort of thing."

Blaine seemed to...deflate slightly as he answered. "That's what I thought, but...God, why am I telling you this? I have no experience whatsoever. Neither in bed, nor...in how to get someone there in the first place. And the one I love...he's...well. He does have experience, a lot of it. I have no idea how to approach him. And even if everything went well, I...I would not want him to find me...lacking."

Kurt shrugged. If he was honest, he did not think the subject of Blaine's affections did sound all that worthy of him, but of course he didn't know the man. Kurt on the other hand found himself getting all hot at the thought of being the one with whom Blaine would experience everything for the first time. "Innocence can be charming."

"I have been pining over him for the last five years. I was innocent the whole time, and he didn't even notice me. I think the time for innocence is over."

"You may be right. But—excuse me if I'm presuming too much—it seems that you are planning a way to get him to dally with you. Surely, if you are in love with him, and have been for such a long time, you want more than a dalliance."

Blaine nodded. "I do. But as I said, I've been pining for him for five years now. If a few nights with him are all I can get, then I'll take it. But I have not given up hope for it to become more. Only, I have to start somewhere."

Kurt took a cake and ate it slowly, thinking about what he was going to say, if he really could do what he wanted to. His father, his past affair with Blaine's brother, and Blaine's innocence were all considerations against his plan, but...he wanted Blaine. He had wanted to peel the ink-stained breeches off him in the clearing, and now he was grateful for the table cloth that covered his own, as whenever his thoughts ran away with him, he couldn't help but react in a way that would surely be noticeable otherwise.

He'd cross each bridge when he came to it.

Taking a last sip of tea, he sat up, mentally preparing himself to get rejected or even slapped.

"I would offer my services. As a teacher in matters of love, and a guide in how to approach the man you love."