#painter!kurt

The prince is just a few inches shorter than Kurt. His dark hair is parted severely on one side and slicked into neat waves, and his jeweled crown sits perfectly level on his head. His smile is huge and warm, and Kurt feels completely at ease, whether Wes wants him to or not.

“Mr. Hummel, I trust the queen has given you direction as to how the family would like Blaine depicted?” Wes asks.

Kurt notes that Blaine was not asked to state this himself just as Blaine stage-whispers, “They don’t trust me to adhere to tradition,” and gives Kurt a conspiratorial wink.

“Yes, I know what the family wants,” Kurt answers, and leaves it at that.

Blaine watches him with a little smile. “If there’s nothing else, Wes, I think you can leave us to it.”

“As you wish, sir,” Wes says. He nods politely at Kurt and walks out, closing the double-doors behind him.

The silence rings for a few seconds before they pounce on each other, Blaine cradling Kurt’s face in his hands for a kiss as Kurt’s hands go right to Blaine’s ass.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Kurt sighs into his mouth, his hands sliding up to the small of Blaine’s back to press him close.

“I’ve missed you, too. It was so much easier to steal time with you when I wasn’t preparing to be king. This wait is all Coop’s fault. I’m so angry with him right now that I can’t see straight.”

“Well, I doubt you’ve ever been able to see straight, exactly.”

“Touché.” Blaine reaches for the leather strings knotted at the waistband of Kurt’s pants, only for Kurt’s hand to close around his sleeve and tug his arm away.

“Ah-ah-ah.” Kurt leans back with his mouth dropped open, and Blaine chases his lips until Kurt presses the hard end of a paintbrush into his chest. “Later. I do actually have to get work done today, and there is only so much natural light. Get into position.”

“Tyrant,” Blaine pouts, and takes his place in front of the fireplace.

*

Some time later, Kurt has most of Blaine’s figure blocked on the canvas. Blaine is posed regally, as expected, with perfect posture and his head held high. His body is turned just slightly to his right, towards the fireplace, with his left foot pointed in front and his right fist closed over his heart. The rubies and yellow diamonds set in his crown gleam in the soft light.

“Sweetheart, I’m about to outline your features, can you look less… uncomfortable?”

Blaine holds his pose but sighs deeply, looking down at himself. “I am uncomfortable. This is not how I want to be remembered.”

“You won’t be. You’ll be remembered as a great king. A vast improvement over your brother before he abdicated, at the very least. To be honest, there was a lot of… relief when he made the announcement, knowing the responsibility would pass onto you. The people love you.”

“Do they?”

Kurt places a couple lines to capture the sudden soft, hopeful angle of Blaine’s eyebrows before he lets his angst take over again. He knows Blaine has been struggling with this, but he also knows Blaine will be an earnest, compassionate king because he’s an earnest, compassionate man. Kurt can’t wait to see what he’ll accomplish. “Some of us slightly more than others,” he replies with a smirk.

“Only slightly, hmm?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Blaine’s face falls and he drops his pose.

Kurt pauses and sets his palette on the table next to his easel. “Blaine? You know I was only being coy, don’t you?”

He nods. “Of course I do. It’s not you. I just don’t know that this is the right path for me. It was never supposed to be. Cooper’s the heir.” He removes the crown and holds it in his hands. “This has been his since the day he was born.”

“And then he ambushed you with it, and you stepped up and accepted it anyway. That is not his crown anymore.”

“Well, I couldn’t just abandon everyone.”

“I know. Everyone does. Everyone knows how much you care for the kingdom.” 

“And,” Blaine goes on, growing more upset by the second, “now the kingdom is stuck with the wrong prince to provide an heir, but guess who’s being forced to marry Princess Quinn anyway?”

All the air squeezes out of Kurt’s chest. “But I thought your parents…?”

“They tolerated the idea of me marrying a man when the family bloodline wasn’t at stake,” Blaine says bitterly, his eyes going wet. “I was just notified this morning that they still plan to ally our kingdoms this way. The princess of Columbus is still betrothed to the future king of Westerville, and that’s me now. The fact that I can’t love her is irrelevant as long as she’s fertile and my cock still works.” He looks up at Kurt full of guilt and anger and regret, and Kurt can tell he hadn’t meant to deliver the news in this outburst.

Their plan, before, had been to marry after Cooper took the throne. Cooper knew about Blaine and Kurt, had even helped coordinate a few rendezvous for them. Once Cooper married Quinn, Cooper and Blaine’s parents would have given their blessing for Blaine to marry a man, though they would have insisted on a prince or someone of noble birth to pair with him. Cooper, on the other hand, as king, would have fixed the law with or without their parents’ permission and thrown Blaine and Kurt the wedding of the century. Aside from the Fabray-Anderson nuptial spectacle, of course.

With Cooper all but disowned, having forfeit his title, no child of his would be considered the heir. With Cooper’s title went Blaine’s future with Kurt.

“Kurt, I—“

“Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“We—“

“We’ll find a way.”  

“But—“

“We will find a god damn way. No one is going to come between us.” Kurt refuses to entertain the idea of Blaine slipping away from him. He runs his fingers over Blaine’s jacket, tracing the suns embossed in the gold buttons. Then he takes the jeweled crown from Blaine’s hands and holds it between them. “This is more important than ever, now.”

“But I don’t want to be king if it means I can’t be yours,” Blaine says, furious and looking like he very much wants to fling that crown into the fireplace behind him.

“You already are. We’ll always belong to each other. But the situation has changed. Waiting for your parents’ acceptance or for Cooper to make good on his promises is no longer an option. You will have the power soon. It might take longer than we thought, but we will be married. We just have to be careful and play our cards right.”

Blaine takes a deep breath, watching Kurt’s fingers rub over the jewels, and when he looks back up, it’s as though his eyes have burst into flame. “Screw my parents. Screw the law. I’m not letting you go.”

The double-doors open and Wes walks in.

Kurt moves to take a step back, but true to his word, Blaine holds his elbow to keep him there and barely acknowledges that someone else has entered the room. Kurt recognizes that determined, borderline reckless glint in Blaine’s eyes; it’s the look that makes him feel like he can fly, like sheer force of will can outweigh the force of gravity.

“Yes, Wes?” Blaine says, still looking at Kurt.

“…Your Highness?” Wes asks slowly. He’s glaring at the crown in Kurt’s hands, and at their proximity to each other, with his jaw clenched.

Rationally, Kurt thinks he should do… something, something less likely to get himself fired for impropriety, anything less likely to give Wes a reason to report to Blaine’s parents. But he feels Blaine’s eyes pulling him, planting him in place, and he can’t throw away Blaine’s blatant show of defiance by not standing alongside him. They need to be smart about how they play this stupid game, but at this moment, the very sight of Wes and everything he represents pisses Kurt off enough to bypass his fears.

Blaine – still not looking away from Kurt as he speaks – says, “The gems weren’t catching the light properly for the portrait. Kurt has to adjust it.”

It’s a flimsy excuse at best, brazenly so, and all three of them know it. Kurt just clamps his mouth shut around the smile attempting to bloom on his face, his dimpling cheeks betraying his effort, and holds on for dear life.

Wes says, “I came to see if there was anything you needed, Your Highness.”

“No. I have everything I need right here. Thank you.”

The dismissal is clear. Wes shakes his head and says, “Very well. I’ll just… As you were.” He backs out of the room, closing the doors behind him.

Blaine doesn’t even wait for the click of the door before he pulls Kurt in and latches onto his mouth. He kisses him until they’re both out of air and breaks away, panting, “It’s ‘later’ now, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s ‘later’ now.”

Kurt, wide-eyed and licking his lips as he tries to catch his breath, is still reeling from the confidence and command Blaine just displayed in front of Wes. He places the crown back on Blaine’s head, tilts it so it sits back a little, then bows his head just enough to be able to look up at Blaine through his eyelashes. “You tell me, my king.”

He’s not sure how Blaine will react to this, given how Blaine feels about the title that’s currently threatening to dismantle each and every plan he’d had for his life, but Kurt can’t ignore the pride swelling in his chest. He’s always been proud to be with Blaine, and while Blaine’s royal lineage doesn’t matter to him, it is undeniably attractive to watch him put it to use.

Blaine blinks at him for a moment, then guides them to an armchair at the far end of the sitting room.  Kurt hits the chair first, falling into the seat, and Blaine follows without missing a beat, straddling him as he unbuttons his navy blue jacket. His swift fingers are loosening the laces at Kurt’s waist in no time, and soon, they’re both out of their pants and throbbing into each other’s hands.

They don’t have the time, supplies, or self-control to do what they’d most like to do, but it’s been far too long since they were together like this and their restraint is broken anyway. It doesn’t take much before they’re both coming onto Kurt’s shirt, Blaine’s hips churning into Kurt’s lap with little grunts as Kurt muffles his moan against Blaine’s chest.

Blaine settles his weight over Kurt’s thighs and rests his hands on the back of the armchair, bracketing Kurt with his body. He giggles, giddy and sated, “Your shirt…”

“Oh… I’ll just say it’s paint,” Kurt sighs lazily, squeezing Blaine’s waist under his open jacket.

“Mmm, smart,” says Blaine, and he leans down and kisses Kurt’s forehead. “God, Kurt. I can’t make it through all this, I can’t… I can’t be king without you.”

“Because I have a handy excuse for suspicious stains?”

“I’m serious!” Blaine laughs again. “Because you’re you, and you believe in me. You know that old saying: behind every great man is an even better one.”

Kurt adjusts Blaine’s crown, which has slipped sideways a little, and snorts, “You’re a sweetheart, but that’s not how the saying goes.”