Hello again! Your reviews have been lovely as always. For those worried that Kurt is too mean, don't worry. His defence mechanisms can't really last too long around his soul mate :P And as for the person who asked what century this is in, it's actually an au that sort of resembles a time around the 1850s but it's not exactly a real world situation. Research has gone into it though so that it's pretty much based around that time.

Blaine's eyes darted to the bed the second he was inside, and what he saw made him freeze.

"Oh, Kurt!" A grin spread across his face at the sight of the slave sitting up in bed, arms folded. "You're... awake."

It wasn't really the right word, but it still made Kurt's mouth curve up in a responding smile.

"I figured it was time." He said instead of explaining anything.

"That's- that's good. So do you want lunch?" Blaine asked earnestly, jabbing a thumb toward the kitchen. He couldn't quite look away from Kurt though. It was so strange to see him with such bright eyes. He wondered what had changed, and then suddenly flushed as he remembered singing so close to the house. Had Kurt heard him?

"I would love lunch." Kurt climbed out of bed, keeping his ever-present blanket around his shoulders. Blaine eyed it with worry. He wondered if it was a sign that Kurt might still return to bed.

But he remained cheerful and actually asked Blaine if he'd fixed the broken fencing he had mentioned the day before. The farmer was stunned he'd even remembered, even cared enough to follow up on it. Their conversation picked up from there, and lunch seemed to pass ten times more quickly just for having two people participating in discussion. It was so surreal that Blaine almost felt like he was dreaming. But when he took the dishes outside to wash and then returned, Kurt was still sitting at the table, waiting.

"Is there anything else you want to do today?" Blaine asked, rocking on his heels for a moment and then trying not to look like an excited child. He was sure he failed spectacularly at that.

"Is there anything you want me to do?" Kurt turned the question around, shrugging the blanket higher around his shoulders.

"Um, if you want I could take you to properly meet some animals?" Blaine said. "Rather than walking past like before. We have more time now."

"Sounds good." Kurt agreed easily. "There's just one problem."

"There is?" Blaine asked, confused for a moment. It made Kurt laugh, and he felt his pulse pick up.

"I'm rather naked right now."

"Oh," Oh, Blaine thought, staring stupidly for a moment. How did I not think of that?

"Well don't just stare at me. Where are my clothes?" Kurt chuckled again, watching Blaine's flushing cheeks with amusement. He quickly tore his eyes away from how the column of his friend's throat led into the milky white skin of his chest where the blanket was parted at the front.

He's your friend, Blaine. He chided himself. Stop being ridiculous and think.

"I only just took them out to wash yesterday." Blaine said guiltily. "They're still hanging in the barn to dry. I'm really sorry, I thought you wouldn't be needing them for a - a while."

"That's okay." Kurt seemed fine with it. He hopped up from the table. "I can wear something else in the meantime. Madame gave us a box of my things, right?"

"Yes, we brought it back in the wagon." Blaine replied. "It's still in the garage. Should I get it?"

"Yes please." Kurt smile sweetly and returned to his chair to wait.

...

Blaine felt that same pleased bubble in his chest when he saw his friend was still sitting there, engaged with the world. He turned around as Blaine entered and the farmer tried not to fumble with the box as he set it down on the table opened it under those curious eyes.

"What did she send?" Kurt asked, standing up and leaning across the table to see.

"Well there's several pairs of shoes." Blaine handed him three different ones. Two sturdier boots; knee length and ankle high, and a pair of delicate dress shoes. "And um, is this a scarf?"

"Oh, she sent that!" Kurt grasped the fabric and ran it through his fingers. The fabric was a beautiful pattern and it was one of few items Kurt had been allowed to pick out himself. It was particularly useful for covering up the signs of passion on his neck. Some clients didn't like the idea that he'd been with another man before them.

"There's, uh, what is this?" Blaine asked, pulling out a box and trying to read the back.

"Oh," Kurt swallowed laughter again. Of course Madame would think of that. He reached out a hand for the box and took it away from under Blaine's nose. "That's - that's just something she thought we might need."

"What?" Blaine asked. He looked so genuinely puzzled that Kurt couldn't help the fond smile that broke fourth. He decided to work with it and ducked his head, looking up shyly to answer the question.

"Some contraceptives and," Kurt glanced into the box. "Lubricant as well."

"Some..." Blaine looked completely baffled, his cheeks heating up. "I- What is that?"

"I suppose they aren't technically contraceptives when it comes to us, but we still need some protection." Kurt turned the box over in his hands. "That was my only constant rule with my clients. We always used one of these. Madame kept us well supplied. One of her few good qualities..."

He stopped speaking as he realised Blaine was still silent, glancing up to see what his expression was like. At the sight of his confusion, Kurt couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I just-" The farmer was obviously flustered. "I have no idea what-"

"No, you're right. I haven't explained anything." Kurt composed himself and slid the box across the table. It was time to use this to his advantage. "These are commonly called condoms. When you've been touched and stroked until you're swelling with need, you slip one over your cock. It creates a protective covering. I could even show you how to use them if you didn't understand it. They've kept me safe from all sorts, though they are expensive."

Blaine was doing all in his power to avoid eye-contact. Kurt smirked a little as he took out a bottle from the larger box as well. He quickly neutralised his face as the shorter man glanced up.

"This is lubricant. It gives you the slide you need to really get inside properly. Generally I- oh I'm sorry." He broke, as if just noticing Blaine's embarrassment. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, no it's fine." Blaine quickly coughed and smiled nervously. He picked up the box of condoms with a little apprehension and held them out for Kurt to return to the bigger box. "If you're comfortable I'm comfortable. I've just never heard of- I feel a little stupid for- I'm not really used to-"

"I guess I do have the advantage of experience." Kurt assured him, brushing fingers deliberately over Blaine's as he took the two items back and replaced them among the other matching boxes and bottles. Madame had sent a good supply. A pity they were going to waste so far. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it. You're- well, you're sweet, actually."

Blaine smiled at him. There was a moment of silence, and Kurt privately quenched the part of him that really did think Blaine was sweet. Now was not the time. He was supposed to be in control of this.

"There aren't any clothes though." He looked back into the box, which other than the shoes and the other supplies, held only a bottle of champagne and some undergarments that Kurt had always loved and hadn't been able to use very often. He let his fingers drift over lace and silk and then covered them up with the boxes again, hoping Blaine hadn't seen them and they could be a surprise. He really did need to change his underwear anyway. He'd been wearing the same things the whole time.

"I guess it might be best to give you some new clothing anyway. Just for work on a farm and things, those might not have been so practical." Blaine's eyes grew wide as soon as the words left his mouth. "Not that there's anything wrong with your clothes - I just meant they might-"

"Mister, it's fine." Kurt said, placating him. "You're probably right. So what does a farmer wear?"

"Not so much fine fabric, I guess. It would be a pity to dirty it. And t-tight trousers might make gardening difficult. That's only if you wanted to actually work around the place. You don't have to." Blaine glanced down at Kurt's body again, and the slave almost smiled when he quickly looked away, seeming guilty. It was strange to be respected. He had to remind himself he didn't want to be respected right now. Blaine was supposed to be looking.

"So even my one set of clothes won't work?"

"I guess not."

"Then I have nothing to wear? Nothing at all?"

"I suppose that's right, if we agree a farmer shouldn't wear satin and lace. At least not on working days." Blaine's eyes sparkled and Kurt got the feeling he was sharing a private joke with no one but himself.

"So can a farmer be expected to trot naked around the orchard?" Kurt responded. His heart picked up speed and Blaine's face scrunched with laughter.

"It might be interesting." He teased, looking Kurt full in the face.

The slave could see again why he had found Blaine attractive that first day. The interaction flew by so easily. When those golden eyes filled with that sincerity, Kurt could almost believe he was just joking with a friend. There was an honest, cheeky sort of beauty about him; something child-like and full of life.

Kurt was annoyed. He was supposed to be above these thoughts by now. After all, Mister, his first owner, had been attractive in the conventional sense as well. He'd even been charming. But under it all was that greed, that hunger, that Kurt saw in every other man who'd ever wanted him. He was sure Blaine had that too. Kurt shouldn't be enjoying his company. He shouldn't be enjoying their easy banter.

Although, if Kurt really thought about it, he couldn't place where teasing Kurt in return would fit into the image he thought Blaine was trying to pull off. Wasn't he pretending to be entirely innocent. Surely then, he wouldn't say something that had the potential to give Kurt the wrong impression.

It took him a moment to chose a response, and he realised he'd been staring at Blaine with curiosity for longer than was normal.

"Oh, you would blush like a school-boy if you got to see that." Kurt scoffed quickly, letting a shoulder peak out of his sheet to illustrate his point. For a second, Blaine blinked at the bare skin, and then he was chuckling again.

"You're probably right." He agreed. "I think I could give you some of my clothes instead."

"That's very kind." Kurt said. He wasn't quite sure if he meant it.

...

Blaine waited outside while Kurt changed. It was a beautiful day, the sun not too warm, the air carrying only the lightest breeze, and the sky showing no clouds at all. He figured he would show Kurt the cow first. He'd already met Pavarotti, who currently stood out in the same field. And then perhaps, they could look at the chicken coop behind the house.

When the door opened, his expression lit up and he turned to face Kurt.

Kurt looked really good.

Blaine hadn't actually thought about how the taller man would look in his clothes, and it was more than a little stunning. The simple blue of the shirt set off his eyes in a way Blaine hadn't considered. And the pants were the right length, so that he didn't have to roll them up like Blaine did. It wasn't a particularly outstanding ensemble altogether, especially compared to the things Blaine had seen him in before. But there was something about knowing that it was his own clothes that made him feel warm inside. It was also a little breathtaking to see him looking so normal. He seemed more carefree this way. It was a look Blaine could easily associate with those glimpses of enthusiasm he'd seen from Kurt their first day on the farm. He wasn't sure if Kurt was more beautiful this way, or in his old clothes. Perhaps it was just that Kurt would always look beautiful.

"Is something wrong?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. Blaine quickly shook his head, as if clearing it of water.

"No, I'm sorry." Stop being inappropriate. He chided himself. "It's just strange seeing my clothes on someone else."

"Bad strange or good strange?" Kurt shut the door behind himself and his hands hovered over the rack of shoes, deciding if he would wear his boots or not.

"Good strange." Blaine assured him, joining him beside the wooden rack and reaching for a pair in the back. "Here, take these. I think they'll fit you."

Kurt slipped the simple leather on easily.

"These aren't yours." He stated, examining them for a moment.

"How can you tell?"

"Believe me, I worked out what size you were very quickly after we met." Kurt's eyes flickered down.

"They were my brother's shoes." Blaine said, completely missing the double-meaning Kurt was trying to place into his comment. "His feet are a little bigger than mine, I figured yours were too."

"You have a brother?" Kurt asked. All he got in reply was a grimace.

"Let's go and meet Bessie!" Blaine announced. Without looking and Kurt again, he lead the way down the path.

...

Once every two months, The King's Castle Brothel hosted an elaborate affair in collaboration with the tavern owner next door. Kurt hated in with a passion. But then again, he tended to hate anything Madame planned.

About one good thing came out of these events; he got to perfect his own skills of manipulation.

It was at least interesting when the doors opened and the men were let in, dropping gold into the opens palms of Madame's most trusted guards to pay their entry. For a moment, the slaves were overwhelmed by the sudden influx of people. Their faces showed a range of emotion, boredom and dread in some, wicked anticipation in others. And then the smiles were plastered on and the game began.

Kurt, like every time, scanned the crowd for the eyes that, in his year at King's Castle, always darted around to see where he stood. It was strange to know that every man was here to see him as much as to find a prostitute they might actually afford. It was one of the only times they would ever be this close to him. He pretended indifference, looking around the room as though his every move wasn't already planned.

Quinn stood in the back corner, and Kurt's face lit up just like they'd rehearsed. He saw several of the faces trained on his immediately become greedy at the sight of his smile. And then Kurt began to slowly pluck his way through the crowds to his fellow slave. Quinn moved to meet him in the middle.

As the two of them passed across the room, all heads turned and followed their passage. Madame had chosen the tactic to highlight both Quinn; who was suddenly becoming increasingly popular, and Kurt; who was always the favourite of the crowds. The other girls were instructed to be totally silent during this part. It was only after Kurt and Quinn broke the ice and ignited the first roll of desire that they would begin their own prowl.

When the two met in the middle of the dance floor, they exchanged the smallest of smirks, pretending they didn't see how everything was suddenly silent.

"You look beautiful, Q." Kurt told her, his voice a little husky, as though he was affected by her beauty for more than just aesthetic appreciation. He felt the room turn their attention to her and trailed his eyes across her figure. He could almost hear the whirring thoughts as their guests tried to connect what was happening.

"As do you." Quinn showed her characteristic smile, looking up through her thick lashes, her red lips pouted just so.

The tension in the air was animal as the crowd watched them step closer. Right on cue, the musicians stated to play. Kurt held in the laugh that sparked as his saw a few men jump in his peripheral vision. He kept his full focus on Quinn as he gripped her waist, splaying his fingers over her back to illustrate her figure. She lifted one hand to clutch his upper arm and he felt hungry eyes devour the sight as their bodies pressed together. It was as simple as breathing for the two friends to slip into a dance. It was strange for them to think they were playing at desire when both were swept easily into the music. It didn't feel like passion. But to everyone else, that's all it could be. In their minds, beautiful, thoughtless slaves could feel nothing else.

After the first swings of their hips, he heard Brittany call to a regular across the room, and the quiet was no longer full of only music. The slaves took their signal and spread throughout the crowd, beginning to work the men who were already aroused by the very idea of Q and the Little Princess. Flirting was followed by money flowing from their hands. When Kurt finished his dance with Quinn and they parted with lingering hands, managing to suppress their amused smiles, he soon lost count of how many drinks men tried to buy him. He almost felt sorry for them as their money was taken by the barmen and the slaves were handed nothing but non-alcoholic substances in exchange. Only the guests would be intoxicated by the end of the night.

And as the evening wore on, Kurt practised his skills. He threaded through the crowds, brushing against people, making just the right sort of conversation. Though other slaves danced, Brittany an especially popular partner, Kurt turned down any of those offers. It was easy to pass off his refusal as just the right thing for each person. He'd learnt long ago how to spot which man would enjoy the challenge of pursuing his sultry arrogant side, which would like a shy response, as thought Kurt didn't dare dance with them. He knew just what to say by now.

It was easy to do, second nature. Kurt liked when there was a challenge, a man he had to work to figure out. But even then, he usually had them hooked by the end of the night.

"Hey sexy, you almost ready to say goodbye to everyone?" Santana asked, leaning over his shoulder as he reclined against the bar. He could see her jealous eyes on the place where Brittany danced luxuriously slowly in the centre of the room. The man nearest reached for her and she danced away, laughing wildly.

"Aren't I always?" Kurt tilted his head up. He could see a few people watching them, and he knew it would be worth driving them a little crazier. Santana knew his moves as well, she was ready to reciprocate.

"They're worse than usual tonight. My ass is fucking tired of being pinched." Santana pouted at him, and he smiled, pushing her hair back from her face. Kurt wondered what everyone else thought they were talking about with their heads so close.

"That's why I don't dance." Kurt let his hand run down her collarbone as it left her hair. His fingertips reached the top edge of her dress, and he knew every man watching was staring at her breasts. Her saw her full lips crack into a smile and before she could give them away by snorting, he let her bury her face in his neck.

"You better get you hand away from there, Porcelain. You might be seriously traumatised if you get too close to my lady-parts." She swallowed her laughter and Kurt suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"Go get your ass pinched by one more guy and we'll be ready to call it a night." Kurt said. His friend pulled back and evaporated into the crowd. He shot a suggestive smile at the nearest ogling man and licked his lips as his eyes roved over another.

Right on cue, the song the band was playing dropped to a finish and Kurt watched some of the dancers come to a halt. The girls were all breathing heavily as if they were really tired, chests heaving as they stayed pressed against their partners just a moment longer. They broke away and Kurt waited until everyone else was gathered by the door before standing lazily, draining the last of his drink from it's bottle, and stretching. He left his prop on the table and made his way through the crowd, the final desperate stares followed his path across the room. Kurt could see Madame slip in behind the girls. She'd spent the night in the back of the tavern, indulging in a little of the drink her girls weren't allowed, stuffing herself on food, and sorting out money while gossiping with the man who owned the place.

He joined them and slipped in beside the newest slave, a girl he didn't really like but had been told to highlight at the end. He ducked his head and whispered in her ear. "The man in the red waistcoat. On the left". He told her the location of the richest man there tonight. It was Madame's idea, to single this one out and make him feel special. Already, the crowd strained to try and hear the secret that the Little Princess was sharing. The other slave nodded as if in agreement to a comment his was making. In unison, they looked to the man, appraising him with intense interest. Kurt saw him blush, clutching his money bag a little tighter in his hand.

"Thank you so much for your company." Madame stepped forward, extending her hands. The crowd of drunken men cheered loudly, and she smiled at them like they were a group of rowdy children. "I'm afraid it's time for my all girls to get off to bed now."

"Leave the Little Princess then! The girls can go home!" A man at the back shouted, thinking himself witty. He was supported by noisy whooping.

"Now now, you know as well as I that the Princess and his friends need to be well rested for tomorrow." Madame simpered. She watched the crowd quieten. Kurt caught several men leering in his direction.

Most of the guests were looking between different slaves now. They seemed to each have someone they had be particularly charmed by. Kurt knew he drew the most attention, so he shot his famous willing smile and flickered his fingers in a goodnight wave.

He was the first out of the door as Madame's voice echoed behind him. She began to organise what the men were to do if they wanted a night with a certain slave. The crowd were so focused of working out how to get what they wanted that they forgot to protest the slaves leaving. Kurt was almost relieved to step back inside the King's Castle. The noise of chatter, bragging and music gave way to the silence of the entrance hall, the quiet conversations springing up among the exhausted slaves.

"You did well." Brittany told him, wrapping her arms around him from behind for a quick hug.

"We all did. We always do." Kurt took her hand in his and shot a smile to Santana on her other side. It didn't take long for Quinn to join them. They had a routine they followed after every party since they became friends. There was always this one night when Madame and her guards were focused on other things, when all the slaves got away with having small sleepovers. Kurt was almost sure Santana would spend the whole night with Brittany enclosed in her embrace after the jealousy she'd radiated that night. He and Quinn didn't mind though. They were just happy to see their friends had found each other in this mess. They were happy that any of them had found each other. It was so strange to have real friendship.

"My room tonight?" Kurt asked. It felt like this could last forever. If he had his Unholy Trinity around him, maybe things would be okay.

...

Kurt had learnt so long ago how to manipulate those men. He knew the faces to use, how to move his body, how to craft his words. He could throw a barb and move on before they knew what had hit them or build them up with subtle flattery. Kurt could do that; he'd been doing that almost as long as he could remember. Blaine was like any man underneath. He was attracted to Kurt and intrigued by him. All of it was leading to the right place, if Kurt could just help it along the way. All he had to do was keep his wits about him.

So far, Kurt's flirtations seemed to fly over the farmer's head. Instead, they were settling into something similar to friendship. The problem was that Blaine wasn't just like those other men. He was also like Santana, Quinn and Brittany. They had always been able to joke at attraction without it being awkward, like Blaine's "It might be interesting". They could talk endlessly and both care about the conversation. Blaine could laugh with Kurt and try to comfort Kurt. He could seem generous and caring and innocent and funny and kind.

Kurt had to shake off the way all those things made him feel.

"You named your cow Bessie?" He asked, nudging an arm against Blaine.

"It's a fantastic name." He protested, picking up on the disbelief in Kurt's voice.

"And so original." Kurt snickered.

When Blaine huffed and folded him arms, it turned into a laugh.

"Bessie is the perfect name." He insisted.

"Whatever you say, Mister." Kurt flashed his smile once more before lowering his eyes and ducking ahead on the path where the trees were too close to walk side by side. It felt strange not being in his usual clothes, but he hoped Blaine was watching him anyway. He didn't see the worried smile his owner gave in return. Blaine hadn't missed Kurt's change in demeanour. He was starting to wonder if, despite the fact that Kurt was out of bed, he wasn't really feeling much better.

"Is that her?" Kurt asked. He was already past the tress and pointing across Warbler Creek.

"That's Bessie." Blaine affirmed.

"Do we cross the stream?" Kurt asked.

"Yes, just careful on the stones. They can be slippery." Blaine warned. "There's a bridge farther down but I usually cross here."

He saw a sudden idea light in the those blue eyes, and then it was gone. Kurt spun and reached a foot to balance gingerly on the first stone. When he had his grip, he stepped off the edge and wobbled for a moment. Blaine quickly came up behind him, hovering worriedly as soon as he set his own footing. Kurt seemed fine though, straightening with a small puff of breath and picking his way across the stones. Blaine followed closely. He was watching his own feet now, so when Kurt slipped he almost missed it entirely.

A high-pitched squeal accompanied the stumble, and Blaine's arms flew out automatically and wrapped around the other man's waist.

For a second he thought he didn't have the strength to hold him up. Kurt's fingertips dug into his forearms as he regained his balance of the bottom of the creek. His legs were splayed out, knee-deep into the water and resting on the bottom. Blaine was planted as firmly as possible between two stones.

With a breathy sigh of relief, Kurt's head tilted back onto Blaine's shoulder.

"That was close." He loosened his grip on Blaine's forearms. "Thanks for catching me."

He tilted his head to the side and the corners of his lips turned up in gratitude. Blaine could see the stubble on Kurt's jaw, the exact shade of his irises. When he swallowed, his exposed throat moved and made Blaine gulp in return.

"It's- it's no problem." He turned his face away, righting Kurt in the same movement.

"My feet are all wet." Kurt pouted. His lips were incredibly inviting. Blaine hopped across the last stones as quickly as he could.

"Don't worry about it. Your shoes will dry." He held out a hand and helped his friend up onto the bank at the other side, Kurt's body brushed right against his as he passed.

"Right. Time to see Bessie."

Blaine tried to shake the way Kurt made him feel.

"Time to see Bessie." He echoed.