The washroom was as ridiculously ornate as the bedroom. The door was cleverly hidden in the paneling next to the fireplace; even with Kurt's experience in such matters he was surprised when Bess ran her fingers along a seam and popped it open. She deposited the pile of clothes in his arms and pushed him inside, guiding him with her hand on his back like he was a blind newborn puppy who couldn't be expected to find his own way.
Which wasn't very far from how he felt at the moment.
As soon as the door closed Kurt let himself droop against it with a sigh. The garments fell to the floor and he pressed his hands hard against his eyes. He wasn't trying to stop tears – he'd cried enough, too much, and maybe someday when this was all over and he was . . . someplace else . . . maybe then he'd cry for days and days until he was utterly empty. Maybe. No, he wasn't going to cry, but there was just so fucking much, and the weight of it pressing down, now that he was alone again, made it hard to do more than stand and breathe. Trying to understand was useless. He just had to put one foot in front of the other until he was out of this nightmare. He had to put on the clothes he'd been given and eat the food Bess had brought and figure out which direction he wanted to turn once the gates of Eastreach closed behind him. He had to face those things and he would, Kurt knew, but he also thought he deserved a minute to tremble like a lost child before he began.
Only a minute, though. Kurt had never been one to wallow. He couldn't afford it. His life had been so full of grief that if he hadn't learned to push it away and move forward he never would have accomplished anything. He took a deep breath, straightened his spine, and opened his eyes.
His initial impression was more than confirmed. It really was a beautiful room. It was lit by windows high up near the ceiling, and the morning sun shafted across a marble floor that swirled with grays like a cloudy sky. To his right was an oddly placed wall and it took him a moment to realize it was the back side of the fireplace, jutting into the room behind it. Directly across from him was . . . well, it must be meant to be a kind of washtub but Kurt had never seen a washtub like this. It was more of a pool, sunk into the floor, with taps above that Kurt could only suppose brought water. He was quite sure that when it was full he could have floated in it spread-eagle without touching any of the sides. It was hard to believe there were people who lived this way, with things like these. He had to drag his eyes away from it to inspect the rest of the room.
To his left, under the windows, stretched a long counter of shining dark stone, and beyond that was an alcove that partially hid a high wooden commode carved with a pattern of flowers and leaves. There was a polished metal basin sunk into the middle of the counter and a pair of ewers painted with violets, one on each side. Steam rose from one of them and Kurt stepped away from the door, feet sliding on the smooth marble, to peer into it. Hot water, he discovered, and the other was filled to the brim with cold.
The hot water puzzled him. He hadn't seen anyone come in through the bedroom, but if the water had been placed before he woke up it would have cooled by now. Which meant, he realized with a start, that there must be another hidden entrance to the room. His heart began to trip over itself as he watched the steam curl toward the ceiling. Another entrance anyone could use, to sneak in, to take him . . .
He spun around but the room behind him was empty. The only place anyone might be hiding was on the far side of the jut of the fireplace. Kurt wasn't taking any chances. He hefted the ewer of hot water – the only thing he could think of to use in his defense – and crept as silently as he could across the room. As he stretched his neck to peek around the wall movement caught his eye and he cried out in alarm, nearly dropping his weapon.
A man peeked back at him, around the other end of the wall. A man who looked as terrified as Kurt felt. A man holding a huge, flower-painted, steaming ewer.
"Kurt? Is everything alright?" Bess called from the other side of the door.
"Yes," Kurt said, too quiet to be heard. The other man's lips moved as he spoke. "I'm okay," he said, louder, "sorry."
Both men bent slowly and set twin porcelain jugs on the floor, then straightened and faced each other. Two men in green, too-long sleeping trousers with wide eyes blotched red from crying.
Kurt tilted his head to one side then the other. There was no question. He was looking into a huge, polished mirror and the young man looking back was – it had to be – himself. But knowledge didn't help Kurt match what he knew to be true with what his senses were telling him.
The man in the reflection was tall and slim, strong-shouldered and long-legged. His chest rose and fell in short, sharp inhalations and as it did muscles bunched under his skin. His neck was so long and his blue eyes were huge, startled, like a frightened animal. Carefully, as if he really might be in danger from the apparition, Kurt stepped closer to this other self he didn't recognize. The jaw was strong and square and there was a dimple at the end of his chin – had he always had that? He couldn't remember. A fading bruise marred the skin beside the chin. Kurt pressed his fingers to his own jaw, irritating the still-painful spot where Gavin had gripped him. Then he ran his hands up his gently hollowed cheeks. He turned this way and that, trying to make it fit, but it only made him dizzy, like looking down from high up. He couldn't manage to properly understand that the beautiful, sad, strong man staring back was him. He reached for the mirror and one welted palm met the other, long fingers touching tentatively.
"Gods," they breathed together.
Kurt stepped back again for a better view, stared at shoulders that seemed impossibly broad, arms corded with wiry muscle, pale expenses of skin broken only by the stormy blue of his eyes, dark tousle of his hair – trimmed neatly, if not quite his usual style, he thought, sending a silent thank you to the duke's barber – and the rosy pink of his nipples . . .
Sebastian's tongue flicking pleasure, fingers pinching fire, making them ache . . .
A flush crept up the long neck in the mirror and the eyes went dark with an even more unfamiliar look. Following an impulse he didn't bother to question, Kurt reached for the drawstring of the green trousers and pulled at the knot. He closed his eyes as they slipped away from his body to pile on the marble around his feet. He felt instantly better without them, but he pushed that uncomfortable thought away. He took a deep breath then peeked through his lashes at the naked man reflected back at him.
It was a beautiful body. Long torso – not as long as Sebastian's something tiny in his head piped up but he squashed that firmly into silence – and narrow hips. A cleanly cut vee lead down to strong thighs and calves and feet that seemed far too long. But there was no Kurt there. It was like looking at a stranger.
If there was no Kurt Hummel to be found in the young man staring at him, Kurt realized there was also no slut. He'd avoided mirrors when he'd moved naked around the castle, but Kurt had never been able to banish the image in his head of how he must look to others. But that image wasn't any more present in the reflection than the boy he remembered being before he was taken. Had he really changed that much in only half a year? Or was it that he'd changed so much inside that the outside seemed foreign and distant?
Emboldened by the unfamiliarity, Kurt finally let his gaze linger on the genitals hanging soft between his legs. He took a step closer and stared at his penis as if he'd never seen it – or anyone's – before. So strange – this one bit of flesh that his whole world had seemed to revolve around since the day he'd woken up in the dungeons of Eastreach. It looked, not tiny – that wasn't right – it was just the size it should be; he was sure that erect it was just as large as Sebastian's but he wasn't going to think about that – no, not tiny. Insignificant. Just a few inches of flesh. It seemed impossible that it could have been used to such devastating effect to control and punish him. Days and weeks and months on end Gavin had teased and tortured it, punished it in a hundred ways, keeping it hard, keeping Kurt off-balance and humiliated with every thrusting throb. And now there it hung. Inconsequential. Soft. Kurt realized that it hadn't stirred since – he wasn't even sure when it had last grown hard. Had he been erect when he'd cowered under Gavin's gaze by the fire? When he'd flown at Sebastian with all the pent-up rage of his six months of captivity? After being so aware of it for so long, how could it be that he didn't remember?
One hand drifted down and he grazed the flaccid length with the tips of his fingers. Did it feel good? He wasn't sure, and the uncertainty prickled uncomfortably in his head. What if . . . Kurt and his reflection shook their heads but he couldn't break away from the thought. What if it would never get hard again? What if it couldn't anymore, without the fear he'd been so well-trained to respond to? What if the insanity of his enslavement had warped him forever, beyond repair? Was arousal itself beyond him now, forever associated with the horrors he'd experienced? He stroked himself again but his flesh didn't stir. He was sure that should frighten him. It would be the height of irony to be finally free to pleasure himself only to find his body still trapped in Gavin's thrall. But he felt nothing for his limp cock but curiosity. Did he simply not care? Or was more than his cock still enslaved?
He shook his head again and turned away from the mirror. His foot bumped the ewer he'd left on the floor but he bent and caught it before it could tip. He hefted it back onto the shining counter and scooped up the clothes he'd dropped. He wasn't going to think about that right now. He wasn't going to think at all. Not until he had to.
For the first time in more than six months, he was going to get dressed.
When he came out of the bathroom Kurt found Bess and little Ned sitting at a table that hadn't been there when he'd gone in. Ned was teasing his aunt with a piece of bacon, offering it to her then swiping it away with a giggle when she tried to take a bite. Between them a huge silver tray steamed with hot food and when the smell hit Kurt's nostrils his stomach seemed to remember that it hadn't been fed in forever and gave a mighty rumble. He was sure only he could hear it. The fact that Bess looked up from the game at the exact moment was certainly a coincidence.
She beamed at Kurt. "Well that's much better! How do they feel?"
"Strange," Kurt said. More than strange, actually. The unfamiliar garments pressed and pulled and weighed on his body. He'd almost dissolved into tears just encasing his legs in the stockings. Once upon a time clothes had been Kurt's friends and allies, his weapons and his shield. Now every uncomfortable rub of fabric against his skin made it that much harder to not think about the things he didn't want to think about.
"Why strange?" Bess asked.
Because I've been a naked slave so long that I can't remember anything else didn't seem like a charitable response, no matter how true it was. Kurt liked Bess's smile. He wanted her to keep smiling. "They don't quite fit," he said, which wasn't exactly a lie. "The sleeves are too long." He held out his arms so she could see how he'd rolled them up.
"Pity we don't know anyone who's good with a needle," Bess said with a wink. "Come and eat."
But Kurt was stuck on what she'd said. He stayed where he was, forcing himself not to pull at the tight waist of his new breeches. "He told you that?" he asked.
She smiled. "He told me everything. Well," she glanced meaningfully at Ned, who had started munching the bacon he'd been teasing her with, "most of everything. I'm sure he left out some details –" Kurt shuddered at the thought of what those details might be "– but I think I got the gist. Now come and fill your stomach before it all gets cold."
Kurt was still caught up in the idea that somewhere in the night Sebastian had told Bess about him, about his tailoring and who knew what else. He had an image in his head now of them sitting up together and Sebastian explaining him to Bess in little details like that – but why? He didn't understand. And the last thing he needed was another thing to not understand. God, even his own thoughts were confusing. He went to the table and sat.
As he dropped into the empty chair Ned gave him a bacony grin then snapped at his slice with the viscous gusto of a starving crocodile. Kurt couldn't help smiling back.
"It's the very best breakfast Eastreach Castle can provide," Bess said, filling Kurt's plate without waiting for him to ask. "I told the cook it was for his royal highness himself. That got them moving, I can tell you! Tea?"
Kurt shook his head. Water felt safer at the moment. His pewter flagon was already on the table next to a trencher full of eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, tomatoes, fruit, and what he thought might be smoked fish. It was far too much for anyone to actually eat at one meal. But it looked delicious and he was hungry, so he picked up a fork and stabbed at the potatoes.
"I like tea," Ned piped up from behind his bacon slice. "Ma lets me have it. Sometimes." He looked at Bess with such an innocently honest expression that Kurt found himself smiling again. It felt strange, almost as strange as the fabric smothering his body and pulling against his joints.
"Well, I suppose. Since you've been so good." Bess filled a dainty cup from the teapot and added milk and sugar before setting it in front of Ned. The boy's face broke into a wide grin and he dipped his head and slurped at the rim.
Kurt studied Bess from behind his own slice of bacon. It really was delicious. The staff had gone all out for their future king. "So his secret really is out," he said.
"Sebastian's? I should think so, the way he was giving orders around here last night."
He waited for her to go on but she just poured her own cup of tea and took a dainty sip.
"And you were going to tell me about . . ."
"Oh! So I was." Bess put down her cup and shrugged. "Well I don't mean to disappoint but it's not much of a story."
"You're from the village?" Kurt asked
"I am. I was born there. I came here," she waved a hand to indicate the castle, "when I was just eleven. Scullery maid at first. But I was ambitious! And eventually I ended up as maid to young Lady Wilamina herself. And when King Harold asked for her hand in marriage, well, her majesty is nothing if not loyal. I can't tell you how many people thought she should have a proper, city-trained maid. But she'd have none but me. So off I went with her to the City by the Sea. Try the fish."
Kurt obediently sank his fork into the soft flesh. Bess flashed him another approving smile.
"I don't like fish," Ned said. "I like bacon."
"Go ahead," Bess said.
The boy grabbed two more slices, one in each tiny fist, and nibbled at them in turns.
"I'm very sorry to say, I wasn't as loyal to my lady as she was to me."
"What happened?" Kurt asked around his bite of fish.
"What usually happens to a young girl in a new place. I fell in love. With the handsomest stable boy the gods have ever created. And I married him. He's stable master now, I'm happy to say. So her majesty finally got that city-trained maid. And the whole court slept better at night knowing she was in professional hands at last." She huffed a laugh at her own joke and sipped at her tea again.
Kurt laughed too. He couldn't help it. Between her sarcastic tone and the greedy glee of Ned's attack on his bacon, he didn't stand a chance. Laughing felt even stranger than smiling, but he was pretty sure he liked it. "So if you got married how did you end up with . . ." Even in this new, happy mood Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to say the name out loud.
"Sebastian? Now that is a tale. See, I was pregnant with my Tom the same time her majesty was carrying Sebastian. Of course they'd hired a fancy wet nurse for him, just as they had for Daniel. But when her majesty took to her bed with the pains, the cursed wench was nowhere to be found! So professional! The very best references! You know where they finally tracked her down?"
Kurt shook his head.
"Sprawled over a table at a tavern in The Mill. Dead drunk." She nodded her head for emphasis, as if to say she'd expected it all along.
"The Mill?"
"It's what we call the," she glanced at the boy sitting across from her, "the unsavory district of the city. If you get my meaning. By the time they found her it was too late, even if their majesties had been willing to give her another chance. You see, I'd given birth just the day before, and so I was pressed into emergency service. When that fancy nurse had slept it off, well, I did tell you her majesty is loyal. The nurse was fired and from that day on you could say I raised Sebastian, alongside my own boy. They suckled side by side." She curled her arms as if holding twin babies against her ample bosom. "And they're like brothers to this day."
A crown prince whose best friend was the son of a stable boy. Yet another version of Sebastian for Kurt to grapple with.
"You could say I'm as much of a mother to him as the queen," Bess went on. "Now don't get me wrong. Their majesties love their children. But running a pair of realms doesn't leave much time for kissing wounds or drying tears. I suppose what I mean is, I love him as much as if he were my own." A touch of sadness clouded her eyes.
"So you always come with him when he's here?" Kurt asked.
Bess shook her head and the emotion that had darkened her gaze cleared. "Oh no. Usually he comes alone. I was forced upon him this time."
Kurt must have looked as puzzled as he felt, because she laughed before she went on. "It was quite a to-do. He's the crown prince now. And the only surviving heir. Much too important to send hundreds of miles away on an incognito mission. Of course, being Sebastian, he was determined to come anyway. And their majesties were equally determined that he wouldn't. If you think he's stubborn, you should meet Queen Wilamina!" She laughed again. "In the end I suppose I was the compromise. "
"Hundreds of miles?" Kurt knew Concordia City was far but he hadn't quite grasped how far.
"I didn't mind. It's been years since I've seen my sister and her little ones. Most not so little anymore. This one was a surprise." She cocked an eyebrow in Ned's direction but the boy ignored them both, completely absorbed in alternating sips of tea and bites of bacon, bouncing between them to some internal rhythm only he could hear. "And I'm glad I did come," she said more quietly, leaning close to Kurt, "given . . . everything. For your sake and for Sebastian's. I won't try to excuse . . ." another glance at the boy ". . . what he did. There is no excuse. But I hope you'll think about forgiving him. That's probably wrong of me. And selfish. But I can't help it."
"Selfish?" Kurt asked.
"Well I did say he was like a son to me. And I hate to see him hurting. But that's wrong of me too. I know it's not fair to ask you to fix what he broke. But I love him too much not to."
Kurt wasn't sure what to say to her; he wasn't even sure she expected a reply. A distant knock – the outer door of the suite he supposed – saved him from the attempt.
"Oh gods, what can that be?" Bess jumped up and went to see, leaving Kurt and little Ned alone.
As soon as his aunt had gone the boy looked directly at Kurt for the first time, as if he'd been expressly waiting for them to be alone to make a study of him. Kurt looked back. He'd never spend any time around little children and he found himself at a bit of a loss. For a long moment they regarded each other, while murmured voices drifted in from the outer room.
"Are you going to eat your bacon?" Ned finally said.
Kurt shook his head solemnly. "I'm full. Do you want it?"
A grin split the tiny face and the child reached his chubby hand to snatch the last piece from the platter. But once he had it he only nibbled, watching Kurt over the top of the slice.
"Do you want to know a secret?" the boy asked, bouncing in his chair.
Kurt nodded.
"I've met the . . ." his brow wrinkled with concentration, ". . . the Crown Prince of Concordia!" He recited it carefully, like he'd been practicing.
Kurt couldn't help smiling. He leaned close to Ned and whispered like a co-conspirator, "I've met him too."
"When did you meet him?" Ned asked, looking distinctly dismayed that he was not the only lucky party.
Kurt had to give the question some thought. "Just this morning," he decided.
Ned smiled smugly. "I met him last night. So I've known him longer than you have."
"I suppose you have."
"He's very tall," Ned said, examining his bacon as if he was trying to compare its size to Sebastian's.
"He is."
"Is he taller than you?"
"He might be," Kurt said, as if he couldn't remember the exact distance between his own lips and Sebastian's.
Ned took a bite of bacon and regarded Kurt while he chewed. He swallowed, then whispered with an air of great secrecy, "He gave me a job."
"He did?" Kurt raised his goblet to his lips to hide his smile.
"It was very important, he said. He asked me to watch you while you were sleeping, and to tell him the minute you woke up. And I did it! He said I did very good."
"So that's why I felt so safe when I was sleeping!"
The boy grinned again. His smile was too infectious to resist, and Kurt found himself grinning back.
"What did it feel like?" Ned asked.
"Sleeping?"
"Sleeping in that." Ned pointed a finger shiny with bacon grease at the huge four-poster bed.
"Want to see?" Kurt asked him.
The boy's eyes went wide. "Can I?" he breathed.
"Come on!" Kurt got up and beckoned to the child, who wasted no time on such niceties as napkins. He ran to Kurt bacon in hand.
Normally Kurt would have cringed at the idea of bacon crumbs on brocade, but the child jumped into his arms and held on tight as Kurt lifted him up and Kurt couldn't be bothered to care about such unimportant trivialities. He deposited Ned dead center, and the boy hugged Kurt's neck tight before he let go and fell back into the feathery softness.
"It's like clouds," he breathed.
"Princes are lucky, I guess," Kurt said.
"Are you a prince?"
Kurt smiled at him. "Not even close."
"Then what are you?"
The boy certainly had a knack for asking questions Kurt wasn't sure how to answer. "I'm a tailor," he said after a moment. "And I've never slept on a bed like this in my life, before last night."
"Me too." Ned's smile twisted wide as a yawn broke through. "I'm going to be a stable boy."
"You are?"
The boy nodded. "When I'm bigger. Auntie promised. I'm going to go to Concordia City and swim in the sea and work for my uncle. I've never met him, but he's very important." He yawned again with a stretch that seemed much too big for his little mouth.
"I'm sure he is," Kurt said.
Ned held his half-eaten piece of bacon out between them, and when Kurt took it the boy snuggled down into the pillows, wrapping his arms around the very one Kurt had used for a shield. "And the sea is very big," he told Kurt sleepily.
"I've heard that, too." Kurt turned away for only a moment, just long enough to put the bacon back on the platter and wipe his fingers on a spare napkin, but when he turned back the child's eyes had slipped closed and his little hands rested limp on the coverlet.
Watching him, curled up tiny on the huge bed, breathing long and slow in his trusting sleep, Kurt felt a longing so poignant and brutal that it was almost pain. That had been him, once, years ago. Trusting. Like all children, he'd trusted everything. What terrible lessons would life have to teach this little one, he wondered.
Pain alerted him to the fact that he was clutching his battered hands in hard fists. He forced them open and forced his maudlin thoughts away. He was done with that now. He needed to get his head together and move on. That's how his father had always put it, when Kurt was nursing some terrible hurt. Get it out then get it together. He couldn't have been much older than the boy sleeping before him the first time he'd heard those words.
"They're so precious when they're sleeping, aren't they?" Bess's voice behind him was quiet, to avoid waking the boy. Or maybe to avoid startling Kurt. "If only they could be half as precious when they're awake!"
He turned to find her smiling despite her words. "Does it always happen so fast?" he asked.
She snorted. "Sebastian once fell asleep mid-sentence. And if I remember right, that sentence was him trying to tell me that he wasn't tired in the least and was most definitely too old for naps. Come and eat a little more. You haven't touched the eggs."
Kurt reluctantly moved away from the peaceful picture of the sleeping boy. He went back to his chair and before he could help himself Bess put an egg nestled in a delicate yellow cup in front of him. He picked up a spoon and poked at the shell, just to placate her. But his mind was on things other than food.
"What was he like?" he asked. "When he was a boy."
"Sebastian?" Bess smiled. She refilled her teacup from the delicate pot, took a long sip, then cradled it in her hands. "He was . . . probably exactly as you'd imagine. Too confident for his own good, I'm sure. Always so certain of himself. Stubborn as the day is long. But happy. He was such a happy child."
For some reason, the thought made Bess look sad, but Kurt almost smiled. It was, as Bess had said, exactly as he would have imagined. He could see it so easily. Sebastian as a young, gangling child, too big for his own body, conquering the world between naps.
"There was no malice in him, ever. He was certain he would excel at anything he attempted, but somehow he always understood that you have to work for that excellence. He could be arrogant, that'll come as no surprise to you. Especially when he was old enough to really understand his position. But he always tried to do what was right. At least until . . ." She stopped herself and pursed her lips, and her eyebrows came together in the sternest look he'd yet seen on her face.
"Until?" Kurt prompted.
She blew out air on a sigh. "You know what I'm going to say. Until Daniel died. He changed. Like he'd been unmoored and spun around until he didn't know which way was up. I suppose we all felt that way. But it was more, for Sebastian. Because of who he is."
"Because of the succession?"
"He was so angry. He drank too much. Went tearing around the countryside on that huge stallion of his. Their majesties – well they'd just lost one son to a riding accident. It was . . ." she shook her head as if she had to rattle the word loose, ". . . cruel. Sebastian had never been cruel like that before. I didn't recognize him. None of us did. My Tom became his shadow; followed him around, trying to keep him safe. One day he found Sebastian on a hillside outside the city fighting a duel with an oak tree with his great-great-grandfather's ceremonial sword. More than a hundred years old, it was! The sword, not the tree. They've never told me what happened that day, but when Tom dragged him back to the city he'd changed again. It was as if all the life had drained out of him. I still don't know which was worse. The way he fought it or the way he surrendered to it."
He watched a play of emotions transform her face, until she lowered her eyes and sipped at the tea again. "You'll think I'm trying to make you sympathize with him, but I'm not, really I'm not."
"I don't. I asked you and you told me." She was the closest thing Kurt had found to an ally and he wasn't about to risk upsetting her.
She looked up at him again, wary this time, like she expected him to be angry with her. "The thing is, I can't excuse what he did to you and I'd never try. But I also can't completely regret it."
Kurt stared at her. "Why?"
"What happened here changed him too. Again. I saw it right away. He found something here, maybe in what he did or maybe in you, I don't know." She shrugged like an apology. "I think he's learned that there are things he cares more about than whether or not he'll have to be king. He's finally starting to put his hurt aside and just get on with it."
It was so close to the words Kurt himself had just used that he had to lower his eyes and poke at his egg to hide his emotion. "A little late," he muttered. But he didn't feel the anger he knew he should as he said it.
Bess just smiled the sad smile again. "Yes. You were the one who paid the price for it. And I hate that. But still, I can't regret the change."
Kurt stared at her, trying to figure out how he felt about what she'd said, or how he felt about anything. He let his gaze drift to the child whose curls shone against the brocade bedclothes. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," he said.
"You're free. You should do exactly as you like. I think you've more than earned that right. It's not about what Sebastian wants or what I want. You need to do what you want to do."
She made it sound so simple. "If I had any idea what that was."
Bess put down the teacup and began stacking plates and flatware on the tray. "Well maybe you're going about it wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"Instead of being so focused on the fact that you don't know what you want to do, maybe try thinking about the things that you do know. There have to be some."
Kurt sighed. "I know I don't want to stay here."
She laughed, merry again, all trace of her former sadness gone. "That's one thing we can all agree on. I can't wait to put this house of horrors behind me." She covered the breakfast tray with its domed lid and rose from her chair. "And that's a good start. I bet you can think of some more, too, if you try." She picked up the tray and turned for the door.
"Bess?"
She twisted to look at him over her shoulder, eyebrows arched in question.
Kurt struggled for a moment with what he wanted to ask. "Will he be a good king?" he said finally.
Bess looked at him, considering, then turned fully around, put the tray back on the table, and settled into her chair again, leaning close. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked.
"Who do I have to tell a secret to?"
Her eyes rolled in the direction of the door.
"I won't tell him," Kurt promised.
Bess nodded, satisfied. "I think he'll be a better king than his brother would have been."
Kurt's surprise must have shown on his face because she rushed to clarify. "Oh, Daniel would have done well. More than well, and no mistake. He'd have been fair and just, and I'm quite sure he would have been remembered as a great ruler. But Daniel was raised to duty and responsibility from before he could even say the words. He'd been shaped to his destiny since the day he was born."
"And . . . Sebastian?" Kurt had to push his name out, but he felt something soften in his chest as he finally spoke it.
"Sebastian, well, he's known freedom. And hope. Ambition. Not the kingly kind, he's never cared for any of that. But he grew up believing that anything was possible for him. He's been allowed to dream his own dreams and plan to make them come true." She stared at Kurt so intently, as if it was crucial to her that he grasp this one point. "And then, in one terrible moment it was all swept away. He lost his brother and he lost his own freedom." She took his hand and squeezed gently, careful not to press at his palm. "Sebastian will understand his people in way Daniel never could have. What they hope for. What they fear. What they're willing to sacrifice for the things and the people they love. And you should know that you're part of that. His understanding will be deeper because of what happened here. Another reason I can't quite regret it. Daniel would have cared for the people as his subjects, but Sebastian will care about them, as people like himself, and like you." She let him go and sat back; her hands reached for the tray again but she kept her eyes on Kurt. "He could have walked away, you know. Despite what he says. He could have left it all to Princess Lenora's boy and still had the life he wanted."
"So why didn't he?"
"Because that particular Harold is a spoiled brat, and a bully. And I think even in his darkest moments Sebastian knew how much it would hurt his parents, and even the realms. Despite all his protestations of selfishness, he never even mentioned it."
She watched Kurt for a moment, waiting, perhaps, for him to speak. When he stayed silent she returned to the piling of plates. "It won't give him a day's happiness, I'm afraid," she said softly, "but I think he'll make a wonderful king."
As if on cue a gentle tap sounded from the door and it swung inward. There stood Sebastian, still so tall, still looking tense and wary, holding a dark ceramic pot in one hand. Kurt's heart sped up at the sight of him, although he tried very hard not to let it.
"Ah! Perfect," Bess said, rising from her chair and taking the breakfast tray with her. "Put that down and get Ned for me, if you will. He can finish his nap on the big chaise."
The more Kurt learned about Sebastian the more amazed he was at the way Bess freely commanded him. Sebastian's eyes bounced from Bess to Kurt and back again, but he must have decided it was easier to obey. He set the pot on the table and made for the bed, passing so close that Kurt had to force himself to sit upright and still, although whether his body wanted to lean toward Sebastian or flinch away, he couldn't have said. He did turn, though, and watch as Sebastian leaned over the boy and slid his arms under the tiny body.
Ned mumbled as Sebastian lifted him.
"Shhh," Sebastian whispered. "Go back to sleep."
Chubby arms wrapped around Sebastian's shoulders and the boy nosed against the skin of Sebastian's neck – against the dark bruise Kurt had left there – and drifted off again.
Watching, Kurt tried not to remember the warm scent, the taste, of that spot where Ned's curly head now rested. He tried not to watch Sebastian's face for some sign that he remembered too. He failed. His eyes followed the crown prince of Concordia as he trailed behind Bess, carrying the child out of the room. Kurt wished he knew if such a thing was as extraordinary as it felt to him. Maybe it was just that his life of late had been so devoid of any human kindness. Maybe everyone behaved this way, and Sebastian wasn't special at all.
As they crossed the threshold Kurt had a moment of frozen indecision. Should he follow them? But where? This room had come to feel like an island of safety from the unknown beyond the door. Fortunately, they both returned almost immediately, Sebastian still following Bess like a page waiting for orders. But when the nurse made for the table and the pot of salve, Sebastian paused near the doorway, looking as uncertain as Kurt felt.
"Hands," Bess commanded. For a moment Kurt had no idea what she was talking about. But she gestured in demonstration and Kurt followed her example, laying his hands palm-up on the table. The sight of the angry welts surprised him. He'd forgotten them entirely. But from the doorway he heard Sebastian gasp.
"It looks worse than it is," Bess said, looking at Kurt but speaking loudly enough for Sebastian to hear. "I don't think you need any bandaging. The salve will keep it clean and soften the skin so it doesn't pull as much."
She scooped some cream from the pot and took one of Kurt's hands, massaging the salve carefully over the welt. Her touch was warm and gentle and Kurt felt a pull to close his eyes and let himself fall into the unfamiliar feeling of being cared for. But he was too acutely aware of Sebastian watching from the doorway to let his guard down.
"I know you haven't made any decisions yet," Bess went on as she finished with Kurt's left hand and took up his right, "but I think we should at the very least leave the castle by tonight. Even if we only go as far as the village. I can stay with my sister and there's a perfectly serviceable inn for the two of you. Maybe you'll be able to work things out better when you're clear of this place."
"I'll have to send a rider to the capital with a message," Sebastian said. "The last thing we need is their majesties sending the guard down after me when I don't show up on time."
Kurt looked up at him then, and when their eyes met Sebastian opened his mouth as if he had more to say, but then he closed it without speaking and turned to go.
"Sebastian!" Kurt called out, surprising no one more than himself.
Sebastian's face appeared again, his expression half hope, half fear. It would have been comical, Kurt thought, in other circumstances.
"Don't go," he said, rushing to speak before he lost his nerve.
Sebastian's eyes went wide. Bess looked from one young man to the other as she stoppered the bottle of cream. "Well, I suppose I can send the message just as well as he can," she said, standing up to go. "Truth be told, a message from me would probably be great deal more reassuring to them. Just be sure you let that sink in." She nodded at Kurt's hands, turned, and brushed Sebastian out of the way as she left the room.
Alone again, Kurt thought as the door closed behind her. It was starting to feel like they were going in circles, always coming back to the same place. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He wasn't even sure that he had something to say. Sebastian hovered by the door and didn't seem any more inclined to speak that Kurt was, so with nothing better to do, Kurt rose from his chair and went to the window. Far below in the courtyard a groom was leading two big brown horses out toward the gates. He wondered if they were for them, ordered by Sebastian to prepare for departure. Silence was loud in the room as Kurt watched the groom tether the horses to the same post that he'd been tethered to, once, in a manner of speaking. Seeing it again left Kurt even more at a loss for what to say to the man, the prince, who stood in silence behind him.
Sebastian broke first. "It must be nice have . . . clothes on again." He faltered on the last words, realizing too late that he was only reminding them both of the months Kurt had been forced to live naked and exposed.
"It feels strange," Kurt said, not turning from the window, "like everything else."
"Kurt –"
"I have no idea what to say to you." Kurt turned then and faced Sebastian, who still stood in front of the massive door like he might need to flee at any moment. "I know I should be furious with you. And I am, part of me, I think. You know, that's one thing Gavin never did to me. He never managed to make me doubt myself."
"But I did." Sebastian's voice was heavy and tired.
One of Kurt's hands rubbed at the other palm, nervously slipping through the salve. "The things I should feel, I don't. And the things I do feel, I shouldn't. What am I supposed to do with that? It feels like I'm full of holes. You tore all these holes in me and I don't know if I'm supposed to try and plug them up or just rip them wider and let the light shine through." Kurt stared at Sebastian, pleading with him for answers he knew Sebastian didn't have either.
Sebastian just opened his hands out in front of him, helplessly, like he expected a solution to drop into them from the sky.
"I can't trust the things I feel," Kurt went on. "I don't even know if I can trust what I remember feeling. You were right before. It's just a big mess. And I need to find a way through it but I don't know how."
Sebastian took a tentative step closer, his hands still out, pleading. "Let's just get out of here. Maybe Bess is right. Maybe you won't really feel free until we're gone. You'll be able to think better down in the village."
Kurt blew out a frustrated breath and stalked back to the bed. He traced his fingers along the dip in the coverlet left by Ned's body. How could he tell Sebastian that the thought of the village only scared him more? That he'd rather be naked than trussed into clothing that pinched and pulled? That the only things that felt safe to him were this room and . . . but no. He wasn't going to think about that.
But where did that leave him?
"Kurt," Sebastian said, softly this time, and closer, he must have moved further into the room. "Just let me take you to the village. I can leave you there, if you want. If I'm making it harder for you. Just please let me get you out of here. I need to see you safe. Then you'll never have to see me again, if that's what you want."
Kurt kept his eyes on the paisley pattern of the coverlet. "Bess said I should think about what I know."
"What . . . what does that mean?"
Kurt shrugged. "She thinks that even though I feel like I'm lost in the Render's most diabolical labyrinth, there must be some things I know, and if I follow them, they may lead me out."
He looked back to find Sebastian closer than he thought, standing at the foot of the bed with a hand wrapped around the dark wood of the bedpost. Too close, really. His sudden nearness made Kurt feel dizzy and the bruise Kurt had sucked into Sebastian's skin glared at him. It was hard to concentrate on Sebastian's words, with him so close. "It's a good idea. Is there anything you know?"
I know what exactly what that spot on your neck tastes like. Yet another thing Kurt couldn't risk trusting. Right up there with I know how it feels to want to die when you kiss me, and I know you changed me in ways I barely understand.
"Well I know I have to get out of here," was what he said out loud, at least partly to persuade himself. The safety of the room was an illusion, he knew. And the same was almost certainly true of Sebastian.
"You know I agree with you on that," Sebastian said.
"And I know . . . I know I can't go back to Pluna." Kurt hadn't quite realized it until he said it.
"Are you sure?" Sebastian asked tentatively.
"Absolutely. There's nothing there for me now."
Sebastian's head tilted and his mouth pulled into a pucker.
"What?" Kurt asked.
"You don't even want to – find out what happened? Who did this to you?" Sebastian looked incredulous. Avid, almost.
"Why? What purpose would it serve now?"
"You could bring them to justice."
Kurt sat down on the bed and looked down at his palms, glistening with salve over dark welts. Just the sight of them brought back the rope. Clinging to it while Sebastian dragged him away. Clinging to it while Sebastian embraced him.
"Them," he said softly. "But not Gavin. And not you."
Sebastian was silent for a long time, but Kurt kept his eyes on his hands.
"Me too, if you want," Sebastian said at last. "I told you –"
"I don't want," Kurt said. He looked up and found the green eyes full of confused emotions. Sebastian was groping just as much as he was, Kurt realized. "That's another thing I know. I don't care about vengeance or justice or whatever you want to call it. I want this over. I want my life back. I never want to think about any of this again."
That wasn't true, not strictly. There were things Kurt wanted to remember, but since he didn't want to confess to wanting to remember them, he moved on to more important things.
"I know I'm a tailor," he said, louder this time because he was sure of that if nothing else. "It's all I've ever wanted. I worked so hard for it."
"That's good," Sebastian said. He looked relieved that the subject had changed. "That's a lot."
"And I know –" this was harder to admit because he suspected it was just what Sebastian wanted to hear, "– that I always dreamed of going to Concordia." It was uncomfortable but true. Ever since he'd heard of the shining city by the sea Kurt had known his destiny lay along its clean paved streets. "Master Neric trained there. He said that with his letter I'd be able to get a position in any shop in the city."
Sebastian's eyes widened and he smiled – a genuine smile this time without even a hint of sorrow. "That's fantastic! I mean, I'll take you to Concordia, if that's what you want. Gods, I'd give anything to see you safe and settled. And my mother is an absolute slave to fashion. She'll know just who to go to – the best shops in the city."
Kurt would have laughed if he hadn't felt so suddenly breathless. The very idea of him getting employment assistance from the queen of the realms . . . "I don't have the letter anymore," he said. "I didn't exactly have a chance to bring it with me when I was drugged and kidnapped."
That wiped the smile from Sebastian's face. Kurt was both sorry to see it go and, with a ghostly hint of the vindictiveness he knew he should be feeling, happy.
"I'm the prince," Sebastian said. "If I vouch for you, you'll get hired anywhere."
"How do you know I'm any good? Maybe I'd only make you look bad."
"Kurt, I wouldn't give a fuck if you didn't even know how to thread a needle. Getting you a job is the least of what I owe you. But if there's one thing I've learned about you through all this, it's that you don't lie to yourself. Are you any good?" The smile came back, flirting with the corners of Sebastian's mouth. Kurt found he liked it when Sebastian smiled.
"I'm amazing," he said. It was the one thing no one could ever make him doubt.
"So is that what you want? Will you let me take you to the city?"
Kurt shook his head. "I'm not done with the things I know."
Sebastian leaned against the post he held. "I'm sorry. Continue."
His regal tone made Kurt smile. He used the smile to stall for time. This next thing was harder, but Kurt knew he had to say it. He didn't know why it mattered so much that Sebastian should understand, but it did. "I know," he began, but his voice came breathy with uncertainty and he cleared it sharply. "I know," clearer now, stronger, "that there were things we did, together, in that room, that I wanted. Things that I loved."
"Kurt you don't –"
"Stop!" Kurt jumped up from the bed and faced Sebastian square on. "Just stop it. Stop telling me how I feel! Didn't you just say that you know I never lie to myself?"
"Yes, but –"
"I wanted you to touch me. And kiss me. I wanted to feel your body around me." Kurt could feel himself blushing but he didn't care, he plunged forward, because he needed to make Sebastian understand. "I wanted all of it. The things you did, the things I did. Gods, even the pain . . ."
He could see Sebastian's eyes darkening, in spite of himself. "Kurt, don't."
"No. This is important. It's important to me. Because I know." Kurt couldn't quite face Sebastian with this, though, he moved away, passing so close to where Sebastian clung to the bedpost, the green eyes following him as he retreated to the relative safety of the window. The horses were still there, down in the court, tied to his post, waiting. Kurt watched them twitch and swish at flies as he spoke. "I know . . . that I used to think about it, before. All the things you talked about. Being dominated. Or controlled." Kurt groped for the right words to explain what he'd felt as he touched himself so long ago in his tiny bed over the tailor shop. "I was ashamed of it. I thought it was even more wrong than wanting other boys. But I couldn't help it. It was the miller's apprentice, in my fantasy. He was so beautiful. I wanted to . . . oh gods," Kurt pressed his forehead to the cool glass, to give himself the courage to say things he'd never spoken out loud before. "I wanted to serve him. That's how I thought of it. And let himtake me. Any way he wanted."
Behind him Sebastian made a sound, and Kurt gathered up enough courage to turn and face the play of emotions coloring Sebastian's expression. "But you have to understand – I was so ashamed. I thought I must be the only person in the whole world who could ever want something like that. And I thought I would always be alone because who could ever want that? Or me? And then . . ."
Kurt couldn't quite bring himself to finish the thought. Sebastian moved closer, as close as he could get without letting go of the bed post. "And then Gavin," he murmured.
Kurt nodded. "And then," he shrugged. He couldn't say any more. He didn't have to. He could see on Sebastian's face that he understood what Kurt couldn't put into words. The way his simple adolescent fantasies had been broken apart and perverted. Forced to act them out, against his will, his own sexual urges used as weapon against him . . . at some point it had all blurred together until it was hard for even Kurt himself to really understand where the edges were between what he chose and what he was forced to do. He had to draw those borders for himself now. It was the only way to reclaim some small part of his own innocence.
"And then me," Sebastian said, just as quietly.
"No! That's what I'm trying to make you see."
"I was there, Kurt. You can't rewrite it. You didn't want anything to do with me. I pushed and pushed –"
"Sebastian." The green eyes softened when Kurt said his name. That gave Kurt even more to be confused about. "Could you please just shut up and let me talk?"
Sebastian nodded silently.
"Thank you. Yes, I was afraid of you at first. But then you offered me a choice, remember? And I decided – I did," he emphasized when Sebastian opened his mouth to speak again. "I get that you believe I wasn't free to make a choice but that's not how it felt to me. I decided to let myself have the terrible, shameful things I'd always wanted, just once. And that," Kurt realized it as he said it, finally putting his finger on what he'd felt then, and now, "was when I changed." He took a step forward, away from the safety of the window, toward Sebastian. And like they were dancing, Sebastian took a step back, keeping distance between them. "You were something I'd never believed existed, standing right in front of me. And somehow you could see into my head and you wanted the things that I wanted. You wanted me. Not a powerless slave, but me. I know you did. And the things we did . . ." Kurt had to stop and close his eyes because those things came crowding back to him, images and sensations, the sounds of endearments and soft sighs. And to his complete surprise desire began to flutter in his belly. When he opened his eyes he found Sebastian watching him with a hunger that he wasn't quite quick enough to hide.
He took another step closer; Sebastian another away.
"You made it alright," Kurt said.
Sebastian shook his head in a kind of desperate negation. "There wasn't anything right about you being a slave."
"Not that. You made it alright to want the things I wanted. Because you wanted them too and you weren't ashamed or afraid of them. It was like a dream to do all the things we did. There was so much joy in it. I never felt that before. I never knew it was possible. Maybe I didn't have time for shame or maybe it was because you didn't. But I won't regret it. I can't."
He heard Bess's words echoed in his own and another piece of understanding fell into place for him.
"So it was my imagination when you attacked me and screamed at me about how I'd fucked with your head and used you and how it wasn't real –"
"No! Sebastian! You know that was because I thought you'd . . . I thought you were trying to break me down to give away all my secrets. That's why I . . . because I thought none of it had been real for you. I thought I was going to be sent off to the prince with nothing left to protect me. I attacked you because it had been so real to me. Don't pretend you don't understand that."
Sebastian groaned, a sound of pure frustration. "It was fucked up, Kurt! As fucked up as a thing can be."
Kurt nodded. "Probably. But this is what I know. I know that I wanted those things. I may never be able to want them again, thanks to Gavin, but I did. You showed me how it could be between two people who . . . really want each other. And I'm not sure why but it's important to me that you understand that."
"I understand that that's how it feels to you," Sebastian admitted, grudgingly, Kurt thought. "I hope you can understand how it feels to me."
Kurt took another step closer to Sebastian. To get away from him now Sebastian would have to let go of the bedpost he'd been clinging to like an anchor all this time. He saw the moment Sebastian realized it; saw something like fear flicker across Sebastian's handsome face before he schooled himself to stillness. The heat in Kurt's belly liked it. He liked the feeling of power it gave him, like he was the predator now, stalking Sebastian. "Do you regret it?" he asked, using, once again, Bess's word.
Sebastian looked wary, like he suspected a trap. "I regret what I did. I shouldn't have –"
"But do you regret what happened between us? The other night . . . the last time?"
"Kurt –"
"Tell me what you said to me when I was falling asleep."
Sebastian shook his head. "There's no point."
"Tell me anyway." Kurt stepped still closer, and Sebastian had nowhere to go. Standing so close, remembering, the heat began to spread out from Kurt's core, tingling down his legs and catching in his throat, breaking his breaths into short almost gasps. And like a little miracle he felt a stirring between his legs, rising, pressing into the unfamiliar restriction of the breeches.
There was too much white in Sebastian's eyes, like the horses down below shying away from sudden noises. When he spoke he sounded as breathless as Kurt felt.
"I said . . . that I'd never forget that moment." The words hitched as if they were being dragged from him against his will. "And that I'd think about it when things got too hard for me."
"Did you mean that?"
"You know I did."
Closer still, just inches between them; Sebastian strained back but he still wasn't willing to let go of the post and retreat. Kurt wanted to crow out loud. He had him now. He was so close to stripping away all the pretense and seeing the real Sebastian at last.
"If you regret it so very much then – why would you want to remember it at all?"
Sebastian was taken aback, Kurt could see, and for a moment he could only gape, then he sputtered out, "You're . . . you're turning my words around. You don't understand . . ."
"Then tell me. Why would you want to remember it?"
Sebastian sagged. Kurt could see the fight go out of him. When he looked up at Kurt his eyes were still tired, haggard, but also open and honest, stripped bare of shoulds and musts. "I wanted to remember it because I was happy. Happier than I've ever been. And I'm afraid I'll never be that happy again."
His confession hurt him – it cut to the core of everything he feared, Kurt could see that. And he understood now why he'd needed to see this Sebastian, to know if it was the same man he remembered from a night of kisses and fierce declarations.
"I know something else," he said.
"You're not done yet?" Sebastian asked with a grimace.
Kurt shook his head.
"Gods help me," Sebastian moaned. He pulled himself up straight, still grasping that damned bedpost, facing Kurt's certainty like he was facing execution.
Kurt stepped closer. He knew Sebastian wouldn't retreat again. "I know . . . you have the most beautiful bottom lip I've ever seen."
Sebastian's mouth fell open. He was gaping, literally, like a fish. Kurt wanted to giggle, but he thought it would be most inappropriate under the circumstances.
"What?!"
"Well, your whole mouth really, is lovely, but –"
"What?"
"Don't let it go to your head though," Kurt teased. "You're far from perfect. Your neck is absurdly thick compared to the size of your head and really, that nose belongs on a small woodland creature but your bottom lip –"
"W-what?" Sebastian seemed to have lost the ability to say anything else.
Kurt's fingers were itching with the need to touch. He knew Sebastian wouldn't stop him. Sebastian was caught now, off guard; he looked almost hypnotized by Kurt's approach. And Kurt was all instinct and desire, following his urges without bothering to question them anymore. After all, questions had gotten him nowhere. "I used to stare at that lip, in the room, and wonder what it tasted like. I wanted you to kiss me so badly, but you kept turning away. You drove me crazy. I was desperate to taste it."
Sebastian stared at Kurt like he'd suddenly started speaking a foreign language. But his tongue slipped out and licked at that pink swell, an involuntary reflex, Kurt was sure, and left it shining damp, reflecting sunlight. "Well you did, didn't you?" he asked. His voice trembled. The sound of it fed Kurt's desire and his dick fought harder against the fabric that held it back.
"I don't remember," Kurt lied. "I need to taste it again. So I won't forget." He didn't wait for permission. He closed the last few inches between their bodies and stretched that tiny bit to touch his lips to Sebastian's.
It was so much like the first time that it made Kurt's heart ache even as the familiarity gave him confidence. He could feel Sebastian's body tremble against his own but the soft lips stayed still. He wrapped one arm around Sebastian's waist and drew himself closer, his other hand slipped behind Sebastian's neck and ruffled into the short hair on the back of his head. Sebastian was unyielding iron but Kurt could wait. He didn't care about timetables or search parties or the need to just get the fuck out of Eastreach. This was all he wanted now. He licked gently along Sebastian's bottom lip, waiting for his opening.
When it came it was just like before, swift and powerful, accompanied by a deep groan of surrender that was music to Kurt's ears. Sebastian finally gave up his grip on the post and took Kurt's face instead, hands warm and trembling gentle on his cheeks, he surged forward, clinging to Kurt's mouth like it had become his anchor now, and his tongue met Kurt's and pushed past, deep into his mouth. He kissed Kurt like it was the last kiss of his life, and Kurt could feel all of his longing and fear and desire in it. He pulled Sebastian closer, they held each other up and pushed each other higher, Kurt's heart was racing a mile a minute and he was hard, so hard, his cock ached with need and he could feel Sebastian's too, rigid under his own breeches, and it was perfect.
It was perfect until Sebastian pulled away with such abrupt violence that it left Kurt's mouth stinging where the suction broke.
"Fuck, fuck I'm sorry Kurt. I shouldn't have . . ."
Alone, again, standing so close but not touching, shaking like a leaf, Kurt wanted to scream. It had felt so right, finally. All the decisions he had to make and the feelings he should or shouldn't be feeling had disappeared in Sebastian's arms. He'd felt wanted and hungry and . . . safe.
"Stop talking," he commanded. He reached for the hem of Sebastian's shirt and tugged it out of his breeches.
"No, Kurt . . ." Sebastian's hands grappled at Kurt's, holding them still. Even that contact soothed the desperation Kurt had felt. He knew what he needed now and he kept his grip on the fabric despite Sebastian's attempt to dislodge it.
"Do you want me stop?" he asked, pinning Sebastian with his eyes. "The truth. You owe me that. Not what you think you should want or what you think I should do. Do you want me to stop?"
Sebastian was silent for a long moment and Kurt's heart soared as the moment stretched because he knew Sebastian couldn't do it. He couldn't lie, not with Kurt demanding honesty as the least of what he was due.
"No," Sebastian finally whispered.
Kurt tugged the shirt loose as Sebastian's hands fell away and pushed it unceremoniously over his head. Sebastian had no choice but to pull it the rest of the way off and Kurt took advantage of his entanglement to pluck at the buttons on his breeches.
"No, Kurt, wait . . ."
"Render's balls!" Kurt snatched the shirt from Sebastian's hands and tossed it to the floor. Then he went straight back to the breeches. "You said you didn't want me to stop."
"I know what I said, but you –"
"I want you to stop! Stop telling me what I want or need or whatever! I'm so sick of being controlled!"
"I'm not –"
"Yes you are. You don't want me stop. I don't want to stop. Don't you think I deserve to do what I want to do for a change?"
He waited this time, giving Sebastian time to take him in and see, really see, how much Kurt wanted. He wanted Sebastian naked, wanted to see Sebastian's cock hard for him, and there was fear in Sebastian's eyes but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care. He was done worrying about consequences. So very done.
Finally, with a sigh of surrender, Sebastian closed his eyes and that was all the acquiescence Kurt needed. He pressed in to take Sebastian's lips again while his hands resumed their assault on the buttons. Sebastian let Kurt set the pace this time. His tongue met Kurt's and yielded to it, stroking gently as Kurt explored his mouth with a languidness that was in direct opposition to his attack on the breeches. Sebastian cupped Kurt's face in his palms again as they kissed, then his fingers slid down Kurt's spine to pull at Kurt's new shirt.
"No!" Kurt broke the kiss and left the breeches long enough to push Sebastian's hands away. Sebastian's eyes were wide, confused, but Kurt ignored it. Yes, he'd chafed under the restriction of his new clothing but now he knew that this was right, this was what he needed. He wantedSebastian naked and vulnerable. He wanted to turn the tables. He didn't care anymore if that was wrong. He shoved the finally-open breeches down Sebastian's legs, catching his underclothes along with them, and once they'd fallen to the floor and that beautiful cock was free, he pushed Sebastian hard in the middle of the chest, so that he fell backward on his elbows on the bed.
"Gods, Kurt," Sebastian breathed and he shoved himself up the bed while Kurt climbed on after him.
Kurt didn't need to say anything. He dove back into their kiss, more intense now, a little frantic as their bodies slotted together and their cocks met, one naked, one clothed, each fully turgid and aching for the other. He rocked them together, dragging his breeches over Sebastian's groin, and Sebastian moaned against his lips.
"Does it hurt?" Kurt asked.
"A little," Sebastian whispered.
"Good." Kurt rocked again, harder, and Sebastian's answering moan was louder but he planted his feet and pushed up against Kurt anyhow. Kurt never wanted it to stop. He was hard and taking his pleasure and it felt good in so many more ways that just the physical. Which was not to say the physical wasn't amazing.
"Fuck, fuck, Kurt," Sebastian groaned. One hand captured the back of Kurt's head, holding him kissing-close, the other tightened on his ass and rode it as they ground harder and faster against each other.
Kurt could feel his orgasm building and he waited for the fear and he waited for the instinct to pull back to kick in but nothing . . . nothing . . . there was just pleasure, building, until he had to stop kissing Sebastian just to concentrate on the awareness that he could have this; he could push himself over that edge and no one could snatch it away from him. He let his head fall against Sebastian's as they strove together toward completion.
"Just a suggestion," Sebastian panted against his cheek. "You might not want to erupt in the only trousers you own."
"Shut up," Kurt growled.
"Yes, sir." Sebastian might have shrugged but he definitely pulled harder on Kurt's ass, double-timing their thrusting with grunts that were half-pain, half-pleasure. Kurt fisted the paisley spread until his palms throbbed and thrust for all he was worth, riding waves of pleasure that swelled all through him, flowing freely, until he felt the first peak and pushed up with a cry, spilling hot into his only trousers. He was still shuddering through his orgasm when Sebastian went stiff with his own eruption, silently, pumping his hips in tiny, spasmodic jerks.
When it was over Sebastian fell limp onto the bed and Kurt collapsed on top of him then rolled away, hiding his face in the blanket to stifle himself because suddenly he was laughing, so hard he was shaking, he had to pull his legs into his chest to try and contain the force of it because he was pretty sure it was the height of bad manners to laugh hysterically right after sex.
"Kurt? Oh, Maker, what's wrong? Kurt . . ." Sebastian tugged at him until he had no choice but to turn over and let him see. And then the mirth couldn't be contained. It spilled over in peals that filled the room.
Sebastian stared at him like he'd never seen a person laugh before. "Are you laughing?" He looked so concerned, like maybe he thought he'd broken Kurt for good. The thought only made Kurt laugh harder.
"Would you please tell me why you're laughing?" Sebastian begged.
"I did it," Kurt managed to gasp. "I fucking did it. He didn't take that away from me. Fuck Reginald, and fuck Gavin and fuck his fucking dog, he didn't break me." As he gained control Kurt realized that the mess in his breeches was sliding across his skin. "Dear gods, that feels disgusting."
His ability to speak seemed to reassure Sebastian. "I told you not to come in your pants," he said archly.
"Well fuck you!" That set Kurt off again and this time Sebastian joined in and they lay side-by-side and laughed until tears slid down both their faces and all they could do was gasp helplessly for breath.
As they came back down to earth Kurt felt a tremble of panic. He wasn't sure what to do, what it meant, if he should reach for Sebastian or move away, but before he could make a decision Sebastian rolled onto one side to face him. He was still smiling. It was soft and relaxed. Kurt liked it.
"Gods, Kurt. You might as well just kill me now."
Despite his humor, Kurt tried to look like he was considering it. "Well, I'm pretty sure the penalty for regicide is more than I want to pay. I just got my freedom back after all. But out of curiosity, why?" Kurt asked
Kurt could see Sebastian struggle to decide whether he wanted to answer that or not. Eventually the shoulder not pressed into the bed shrugged. "I just don't think it's ever going to get any better for me than this. And that's saying something, because this about as fucked up as a thing can be. But that's okay. I'm glad that Gavin didn't take it away from you. You deserve to have everything good in your life. I'll always be happy that I had a part in that. I'm glad you'll remember me for the good as well as the bad."
Kurt liked the part where they were laughing, not the part where Sebastian looked sad again. He heard all the implications in what Sebastian was saying but he couldn't find the words inside himself to respond. Thoughts were coalescing at the back of his mind but they were still too fragile to name.
But it was alright. As silence lingered Sebastian smiled again. He wasn't expecting anything, Kurt realized. He wouldn't ask for anything Kurt wasn't ready to give. Kurt was grateful for that. Instead of addressing any of the pressing questions Sebastian's words raised, he arched an eyebrow and let himself smirk at Sebastian like Sebastian had so often at him. "So . . . Maurice?"
It caught Sebastian off guard and he laughed again. "Shut up! It was my grandfather's name."
"Your grandfather was Harold."
"You know what I mean."
"You have a strange family."
"You don't know the half of it." Sebastian shook his head.
"Would you change it?" Kurt asked abruptly. The words surprised even himself.
"My family?"
"No. If you could go back in time, would you change what you did?"
Sebastian was silent for a long moment. And then, "No."
"No?" Kurt breathed. A weight settled in his stomach.
Sebastian bit his lip and rolled away onto his back again to stare up at the fabric canopy. "If I really had that power, I'd go all the way back. I'd make sure you were never taken in the first place."
"Really?" The weight started to lighten. "But then we never would have met."
Another long moment of silence. It was Kurt's turn to roll up onto an elbow so he could watch Sebastian study the canopy.
"Maybe. But maybe not," he said.
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked.
"Well, you said you were always planning to come to Concordia. And that you're a virtuoso tailor. And my mother always has her eye out for the next big fashion trend . . ."
"Ah."
"As soon as she heard about this new genius dressmaker I'm certain she'd have had you in her private apartments so fast your head would spin."
"Really?" Kurt smiled. Sebastian was even more ambitious for him than Kurt would have been for himself. He'd definitely meant to end up making clothes for royalty, but at least he was reasonable about the time frame.
Sebastian nodded at the ceiling. "Really. And I think maybe I would have come in to tell her something and found you there, poring over fabric swatches."
"You've given this a lot of thought," Kurt said drily.
"I may have," Sebastian admitted. "It's possible I slipped into fantasy a time or two when I was stuck with Gavin droning on about his income."
"So what then?" Kurt asked. He was getting caught up in the fantasy in spite of himself. "Would you have invited me to come dine with you in royal splendor?"
"Oh no, I'm much more subtle than that. I would have suddenly remembered a pressing need for a new waistcoat."
Kurt grinned. "Oh, that's not subtle, sweetie. That's spineless."
"Hey!" Sebastian turned to face Kurt, his face a mask of mock-outrage.
They both ignored the sweetie.
"My way is romantic," Sebastian insisted. "Not spineless."
"Do tell."
"I'd take my time. Not barrel in at you before we'd barely spoken. I'd overwhelm you with my casual charm."
"Oh, of course."
"And then eventually, when we were looking at our own swatches, we'd reach for the same one at the same time . . ."
"Really a disturbing amount of thought."
". . . and our fingers would brush together – our first touch. And I'd look at you and I'd just know."
They stared at each other now, caught up in the fantasy, the past, the present, the future in the real world forgotten. "Know what?" Kurt asked in a quiet voice.
"That we were meant to be."
"It's a beautiful fantasy," Kurt said. "I wish it could have been like that."
They just looked, for the longest moment, and at the same time they both slowly drifted back to reality. Kurt could see the moment the walls came back up behind Sebastian's eyes. He wondered if Sebastian saw the same in him. Whether he did or not, Sebastian rolled off the bed, leaving a hint of warmth behind him. "I should clean up," he said, bending to collect his clothes, "and we need to find you something new to wear. Bess is going to kill me. If you can think up some other way we can say we made your things unwearable, I'd certainly appreciate it." He huffed a little laugh, but it was forced and unnatural. Not like before. He was already putting distance between them, preparing for the end.
It was Kurt's turn to fall back onto the bed and stare at the canopy. Meant to be. Sebastian had said it twice now and Kurt couldn't avoid the obvious conclusion. That's what Sebastian felt. That he, Kurt, was the person Sebastian had always dreamed of finding. Even after everything . . . or maybe it was because of everything. Kurt wasn't sure which of those, if either, made it feel okay. He wasn't sure he cared.
"Sebastian?"
Kurt's voice stopped Sebastian halfway to the hidden washroom door. He sighed deeply, once, before he turned to face him. He stood in the middle of the room, the Crown Prince of the realms, naked and smeared with the eruption that Kurt had dragged from him.
"I'll come with you."
Surprise, then relief chased across Sebastian's face before he managed to school his expression back to carefully neutral. "Thank the gods," he said. "I know I don't deserve it, but it would kill me not to be able to see you safe. We'll find you an amazing place, and I promise as soon as you're settled I'll be gone. You won't have to . . ."
"You don't understand." Kurt slipped off the bed, wincing at the drying mess in his trousers, and moved close to Sebastian, close enough to put a hand flat on his bare chest. "I want to come . . . with you."
The clothes in Sebastian's arms hit the floor with a soft ploof. "You . . . what?"
In an unexpected rush of clarity Kurt realized that, despite the mess, his clothes felt much more natural on his body now when he had Sebastian standing naked before him. That had to be deeply wrong. He didn't remotely care. "It's probably completely fucked up," he said out loud, because he was deep in uncharted territory now but he knew he had to be honest, "and I might wake up tomorrow or next week or next year –"
"Next year?" Sebastian's voice was shaking again.
"– and realize what I'm doing and hate myself for it. And hate you. And I have no idea what I'll want, I'm such a mess Sebastian, I might be more trouble than I'm worth –"
"Gods, Kurt, fuck –" Sebastian was gasping and pale. Kurt wondered if he might pass out. He hoped not. He'd never be able to explain that to Bess.
"– and if I'm being perfectly honest, it could just be because you're a prince, there is definitely a fairy tale factor here that I can't deny but . . ." Kurt stopped to breathe then couldn't breathe because Sebastian was looking at him like he was the prince, riding to the rescue on his trusty steed and sweeping Sebastian completely off his feet.
"You make me feel safe," Kurt confessed at last. Saying it out loud made him feel light enough to float away. "You're the only thing that feels safe to me right now. And I want to feel safe. I think I deserve that."
"You do, gods, of course you do."
"Also I am so not done kissing you."
Kurt didn't necessarily mean that to be a request, but Sebastian must have heard it as one because in a trice he was pulling Kurt close and kissing him with – for the first time – a confident determination that made Kurt's toes tingle and his dick twinge happily. It was their first kiss, he told himself as Sebastian's tongue stroked his and he pushed up to his tiptoes to soften the angle. The first one he hadn't had to badger Sebastian into. And it was definitely the best so far. There were things Kurt wasn't quite ready to say, but he put all of his emotion into that kiss and by the time they separated he felt breathless and giddy. Just like he'd always dreamed he'd feel after his first kiss.
"I haven't even asked you if you want me to come," Kurt said, but he was smiling so Sebastian would know it was only a tease.
"Are you kidding? I'm terrified right now that I'm going to wake up at any moment."
"I can't promise you anything. You could end up feeling like you were living your life waiting for the ax to fall."
Sebastian's fingers touched Kurt's cheek and stroked reverently down his jaw, down his neck, to linger at the collar of his shirt. "Well maybe that's what I deserve," he said quietly.
Kurt shook his head. "I don't want to be the stick you punish yourself with."
The sadness came back into Sebastian's green eyes, but it was different now, not as heavy or dark. "Honestly? There's always going to be little bit of that, Kurt. I can't look at you without remembering what I did to you and hating myself for it. But, gods, I'll take it. In a heartbeat. To be with you – even if it's just for a day – it's everything. It's all I care about. I'll take for as long as I can have you and then I'll be grateful for every minute it lasted." Then he smiled and the sadness cleared. "Besides, it's not like I don't come with issues too."
"You?" Kurt asked.
"Everyone at court accepts me as reversed but . . . I have no idea what people will think when there's someone who's more than just a casual fuck. And, oh crap, what I said before is still true. I have to provide an heir. And that has to happen with a . . . wife." He suddenly looked alarmed, like he hadn't quite realized until he said it what a difficult situation he was putting himself in. "Fuck, you might want to rethink this whole thing."
"No." Kurt took Sebastian's hands in his own and clasped them tight. "We'll figure it out. I know we can. Fate owes me that. I'm not going to let it drag me through hell to bring me to you then break it all apart just because you have to marry some girl. I will kick its ass before I'll let that happen."
Sebastian laughed. "Gods, I believe you."
"Good. Now go find me some clean clothes because this is so much worse than disgusting."
"I have a better idea." Sebastian let go of one of Kurt's hands and bent to scoop up his clothes again. Then he walked backward, pulling Kurt with him, toward the luxurious washroom with its hot water and pond-sized washtub.
They really didn't have time, Kurt thought. And as tempting as that washtub was, soon he'd be at the royal palace – tremors tickled his belly at the thought – where he was sure the washtubs were just as beautiful and huge as the one behind the hidden door. And Bess was certain to come and yell at them for indulging when they really needed to be on the move. But then again, they really only had to get as far as Eastreach Village today. And the green eyes looking back at him weren't sad or tormented or dark with shadows. They sparkled with only one emotion now. It looked to Kurt like hope.
Kurt smiled at Crown Prince Harold Sebastian Alastair Maurice, and let himself be led.
