"Santana, I said no."

"Kurt, cmon, how long has it been since youve gotten laid? 6 months? A year?" Santana insisted.

"I dont want to talk about it."

"You dont want to talk about it because its too sad to talk about," she said, tossing her school bag on one of the kitchen chairs. She opened the cabinet and rummaged for a glass. She told Kurt that going back to finish law school after dropping out and reaffirming everything her parents (especially her father) wanted her to be gave her an itch in her throat she just couldnt scratch. You know what they say, Rachel had told her, father knows best. Or in my case, fathers, of course.

"Whats so depressing about waiting for the right one?" Kurt said, looking up from the kitchen island, pages of costume designs spread out before him. "And please dont spill water on my work like last time."

Santana laughed. "Theres no such thing as the ‘right one, Kurt. Theres only sex, bad sex and good sex. Just sex." She fills her cup in the sink with tap water, and moves to sit on the opposite side of Kurt, who raises an eyebrow at her.

"Relax," she sighed. "Last time I spilled because the hobbit knocked into me during one of her manic episodes, remember? Youre safe with me."

"Im giving you a look because what you just said was infinitely depressing and not at all encouraging."

"YAAAAY, MATCHATTANS TONIGHT!" cried Rachel, bounding into the kitchen with a grin on her face.

Santana raised her drink in the air to prevent the inevitable. Kurt subtly scooped his papers up while eying his friend warily.

"Calm down, crazy eyes, I havent managed to get him on board, yet," Santana admitted.

Rachels expression dropped instantly. "What?" She turned to her best friend. "Kurt! Are you serious? Do you know how long its been?"

Kurt sighed. "If I dont remember, it doesnt take much for someone to remind me."

"Its insulting to me how little you care," Santana said softly under her breath. Whether or not it was really meant for Kurt to hear was debatable.

Rachel sat down next to the man and took his hand in hers, piercing him with her determined eyes. "We need to go to Matchattans, Kurt."

"Or," Kurt said, completely unaffected by the look that would send most subs to their knees, "we could stay in and watch the Golden Girls marathon!"

Santana moaned, a put-upon, suffering moan. "Well all BE golden girls someday, why do I have to live like one now?"

Rachel bit her lip. "Please, Kurt? For me?"

And that was something Kurt just couldnt deny Rachel. It had been so hard for her to lose Finn right out of high school. He didnt know if they were soul mates, or if he believed in soul mates at all, but they were something. And Finn had been the right kind of sub for Rachel at the time-endearingly submissive, but unafraid to call Rachel out on her more obnoxious behavior. They had been two halves of the same whole. It took Rachel years to get over Finn, but when she decided to move on with her life in Finns memory, she, like Kurt, decided not to settle for anything less than perfection.

For a long time, Rachel thought she would never find it. She had been the pessimist. When had her optimism suddenly outweighed Kurts, that she knew her sub was out there, somewhere, just waiting for her to find him?

Kurt, who had never loved anyone like Rachel loved Finn. Or even like Santana loved Brittany (their story didnt end in tragedy, but he knew Santana certainly felt like it did).

Shouldnt he feel a bit more optimistic about his chances of finding someone special?

"...Okay," he agreed, softly. "Matchattans it is. I need to find something to wear..."

Rachel squealed in delight and clapped her hands excitedly. Santana rolled her eyes and released a breath.

They all really needed a success in their love lives. They were still too young to be marathoning Golden Girls on a Friday night.

*

Match Manhattan, an exclusive matching club for New York singles and colloquially known as Matchattans, was packed as usual on a Friday night.

Despite the classy look of the place, all high, dark polished tables and cool, neutral decor, the atmosphere was cloying and oppressive.

"Lets just leave," he said.

"Blaine, seriously," Dani sighed, worry creeping into her voice. "Dont do this again."

"Do what?"

"Youre making it so hard for yourself. Theres no pressure. Just enjoy."

"No pressure," Blaine mocked, crossing his arms and leaning back onto one of the high tables while Dani sat on one of the stools, nursing her drink and looking out into the room. "The place is called Match, for crying out loud. Dont you think theres a little pressure to, I dont know...match up with someone?"

"You know Im not trying to push you into anything, B. If you find someone that catches your eye, great. But Im hoping youll stay a while, for me at least. Its been forever since Angela and I broke up. I need this. Please just support me?"

Blaine sighed, feeling bad for his initial rejection. Of course he could be there for his best friend.

They had met when Blaine had moved out to California with his family in high school. He had been so pissed off, having just gotten into The Warblers and starting to feel comfortable at Dalton. But his fathers promotion had been more important, so off they went to LA. He met Dani there, an emancipated minor trying to make a name for herself as a singer-songwriter. They met at a cafe open mic night. Dani was down a guitarist, who had ditched her at the command of his controlling Dom of a boyfriend. Blaine offered his services, and they played pop covers to the delight of the cafe patrons. They became instant friends, and moved out to New York together after Blaine graduated for a change of scene. They both needed it.

"Lets find you someone special then," he said, conceding. Dani grinned.

*

In the end, it wasnt that difficult for Santana to find someone to go home with. Kurt sipped his cocktail while watching his friend make out with a beautiful curvy woman she had just met.

Santana, being a natural Dom in almost every aspect of her life, was thoroughly switch in the bedroom. Just like how she could get off with a man as well as a woman even though she was very, very gay ("getting off has nothing to do with attraction or love, Kurt, its all just stimulation in the right areas," she had noted), she didnt need a state designation test to define her life (and wasnt that an attractive concept). From here he couldnt tell who was calling the shots, and that was probably how Santana wanted it, even if it was a bit more confusing.

But Kurt envied her nonchalance. His (perceived) designation had plagued him throughout middle school and high school. He used to be such a short, petite child. It was way too easy for people to make assumptions. And since children only attain their Dom or sub designation at the tail end of puberty-or when they otherwise "came of age," it had taken Kurt until he was nearly twenty to be completely certain of what he had known all along: unlike what his peers had thought throughout school, he was absolutely, unquestionably Dominant.

Relief and vindication were bittersweet, though; he couldnt go back in time and rub his designation in the faces of a few key bullies, some of which taunted him enough about being such a "textbook sub" and pushing him around when he didnt succumb to their inane orders that he was forced to transfer schools halfway through his freshman year.

He couldnt count that time as a complete loss, however. Dalton Academy had been a cage for his creative spirit, but the place had quickly became a second home. He was barely fifteen, and and a school full of cute rich boys and an anti-bullying policy didnt seem like such a terrible trade off for the conformity Dalton expected, even if it made him itch a little under the collar.

However, fate had its way, it seemed, and gave Kurt what he wanted more than staying safe and comfortable, and, after a year, his father had to pull him out of school when the funds just werent there to continue paying his high tuition. "We could homeschool, Kurt, but Id rather you save this money for college. New York isnt gonna be cheap," his dad helpfully reminded him.

But Burt Hummel was right. And there was only one thing-or person-Kurt would miss at Dalton: Blaine Anderson. Kurts closest confidant (at least for that one year they met and had been friends before his family up and moved to California and they lost touch), and role model.

Kurt had been too nervous to talk to Blaine, who was quite clearly a Dom even pre-designation, about his concerns about his sub status. How he didnt think he actually was what everyone just assumed. Kurt knew, deep down, that Blaine would never laugh him off like those idiots at McKinley--"youll never be a Dom, Hummel, quit dreamin"--but he didnt want to upset their tentative friendship with the revelation, just in case. Blaine had been just what he needed, right when he needed it: someone to listen, someone to be there. And it had seemed, though they never spoke of it, that Kurt was that someone to Blaine as well.

They had shared all their secrets-Kurts bullying classmates, Blaines feelings of not living up to his parents standards, Kurts inability to really "fit in" at Dalton like a square peg, Blaine having a hard time in his brothers shadow.

Too soon, they were saying goodbye. And then Kurt Hummel no longer had a reason to stay at Dalton Academy.

*

Rachel figured if it was easy for Santana, it should be just as easy for her. So many sub men flooded the city on the weekends, attracted by the abundance of charming and beautiful Dom women New York City had to offer. And Rachel wasnt about to spend another Friday night reminiscing (or griping) over relationships past with Kurt and Santana. It was her time to live.

After watching Santana make out for five minutes without taking a breather, and getting nothing out of her usual conversation partner Kurt, who seemed to be lost in thought, she sighed and commented that she was heading to the bar.

"Cosmo, please," she yelled over the bar, jumping a bit to be seen and heard over the crowd. She should have worn those four inch heels Santana suggested, but didnt want to look like she was walking on stilts all night, either. Wearing those shoes was one art she had yet to master.

The bartender shot back a playfully snarky refrain, "I would card you, but I know for a fact youd think I was hitting on you."

Rachel looked up, and her eyes widened. "Noah!"

"Waz going on, my Jewish-American princess?" he grinned, and started to pull a glass from the back counter. "One cosmo, extra cranberry, coming up."

"I didnt say extra cranberry," she said.

"Yeah, but you love your pink shit, I remember."

"Oh my goood, how long has it been?" she said excitedly. She hadnt seen Puck for years, not since...

Oh.

Puck didnt respond or look her way as he mixed her drink, just bit his lip quietly in thought. Oh.

"Since Finn," she said softly, her voice drowned out by the rest of the bar patrons.

Puck put the drink down in front of her, leaned on the counter and gave her a fond, knowing smile. "On the house," he said.

"Oh, Noah, I-"

"On the house, Berry," he repeated, softer.

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, and then tossed back her drink.

"So, how-"

But before she could play catch up, a rude dark-haired man interjected, having just pushed through the crowd on his way to the bar. "Okay, Im heading out," he said, a small note of irritation in his voice. "Clearly Im not needed because Dani is over there having the time of her life. Support system...my ass!" He was clearly directing his conversation to Puck, flushing a bit on his last comment when his friend smiled back at his ‘curse.

"Excuse me," Rachel interjected. "But it is very rude to interrupt someones conversation like that, didnt your mother teach you any manners?"

Blaine looked over at her, startled-and almost frightened for a moment-before schooling his face into something more neutral. "Im sorry, I didnt see you there, or else I never would have butt in. Im Blaine Anderson," he said, offering his hand.

Rachel didnt know what to make of Blaine, but forgiving him had come easily. "Im easy to miss sometimes, not for lack of trying. Rachel Berry," she said, taking his hand. "I used to go to school with Noah, we were just catching up."

"Oh...Oh!" Blaine said, catching on and looking between the two of them. "Now I really feel bad. Please, catch up." He turned his direction to his friend behind the bar. "Ive got to go. In case she has her phone off, let Dani know I left and that Ill see her tomorrow? I dont want to...interrupt."

Puck reached over and clapped a hand down on the other mans shoulder. "Sure thing, buddy. You dont want to stick around a bit, though?"

"No thanks," Blaine laughed tiredly. "Im beat."

"Its only midnight, who are you, Cinderella?"

But Blaine was already beginning to back away. "Not unless the cabs turn to pumpkins," he said, waving a little goodbye to Rachel and Puck as he went.

*

Kurt, meanwhile, was having plenty of offers, as usual, but absolutely no luck in connecting with anyone.

Maybe that was partially because he didnt want to. He wasnt even trying, really.

"Hey, can I-" one would say.

"Not interested," hed respond.

"Hi Sir," another would start.

"Sorry, not interested," hed say.

"What are you drinking?" one asked.

"Nothing you could buy me more of," he morosely responded.

He even got one "Whats your sign, Daddy?"

He just looked up at the man, gave his best what-the-fuck face and said, "seriously?"

They might have been submissive enough, or charming enough, attractive enough, but he wasnt going to find his perfect sub in a place like this, with everyone just wanting to jump into bed with the first attractive person they met. He might envy Santana, but he didnt want to be her. He didnt want just sex. Hed had enough flitting about with guys after hed been designated, throwing himself around like he didnt matter. Someday, he would matter to someone. He didnt need more memories of when he didnt to make him feel like a shitty Dom.

He was feeling very done with the whole night, ready to call it a wash and head home.

And then the night changed.

"Kurt? ...Kurt Hummel?"

*

He wondered what Puck was up to with the petite brunette he evidently used to go to school with. She wasnt his usual type (tall, leggy, big breasts, fake hair, low standards), but Blaine had seen something in his friends eyes-something soft, and longing. He didnt think he had ever seen that before.

He cut his way through the throng of people in the club, when his knees started to shake and something drew his gaze to the right. And Blaine saw, at a table against the side wall, the most gorgeous wallflower he had ever seen.

The man was lean, and beautiful, with high windswept-looking chestnut hair and a defined jaw, tailored clothes Blaine could tell were well-made and expensive even in the half-light, even at a distance.

Because Blaine knew exactly who that handsome stranger was.

His heart felt like it leaped out of his body, but he reigned it back in, gathered up all the courage he had, and walked toward the table. He stopped a couple times, worry crowding in. What if Kurt had forgotten him? What if Kurt didnt want to play catch-up? What if Kurt wasnt interested in being friends anymore? The thoughts hurt, but Blaine knew it would be easy to turn away-Kurt hadnt looked up from where hed been texting on his phone-and when Kurt visibly sighed, grabbed his coat and stood up, he found the courage to keep walking forward.

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think.

Kurts head shot in his direction, his eyes wide.

"Hi, wow, hi," Kurt said, shaking his head as Blaine drew near. "Wow." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Intoxication never makes for good conversation," he said with a wry, embarrassed smile. Blaines heart did the funny leaping thing again.

Stay cool, he told himself.

"Id say youre fine; youre still multisyllabic."

Kurt shook his head with a fond smile. "Blaine Anderson," he sighed, putting down his coat. "Sit, you."

That, Blaine could do.

"You never called, you never wrote, what happened to you? Did you fall off the face of the earth?" despite the lighthearted nature of Kurts teasing, slightly flirty as always, there was real emotion behind it.

"Just California," Blaine said. "But I resurfaced back in civilization."

"So, the big question," Kurt said seriously, leaning forward. Blaine sucked in a breath. "Do you live here now? Have you become one of us?"

Blaine sighed. "Yes, I have. Ive renounced the sunny life. Ive committed myself to New Yorks moodswings."

Kurt hummed in approval. "Good. Im glad. We desperately need to catch up. Ive missed you."

There was no reservation, no hesitation. Just like that, they were back.

And, Blaine noted, clearly not discussing the unsaid and apparently unsayable, after all these years.

It had been hard for Blaine to move away. He thought he would miss his school and his friends, but after a few months in his new home, he found himself missing just one boy. Someone who made him smile, made him try harder, made him feel lighter than air.

Blaine tried. He did. They were facebook friends, after all, though Blaine had stopped using the site a few months after the move. He couldnt bear to see updates on his friends life in the Midwest, knowing he was stranded out here, away from his closest friend. It was nothing short of unbearable, and the shame and sadness that came from his weakness allowed him to swear off the Midwest, and Kurt, for good. When he got his new phone number, area code change and all, he didnt tell Kurt. He mentioned briefly his life in LA before communication fell by the wayside, but gave him no address. He was miserably inaccessible.

It hurt, but it would have hurt much more, in the long run, to give in.

Blaine was still hiding, then and now. He wanted to be perfect for a family that valued perfection. He wanted to stand on equal footing with his brother, who was prized more than ever by his parents and relatives for being a success in Hollywood. But one son in the arts was more than enough-Blaine had understood that much from his parents. They had set their sights on Blaine becoming someone important in business, or finance, or law; a respected dominant Anderson in a long lineage of Anderson Doms.

Who was Blaine to deny them that? Especially when he gained such admiration and love from his mother and father-and even brother-for acting the part, for being the dutiful, perfect son? It had worked so well for him in the past. He could pretend, for their sake. For his. Life would be so much easier, he thought.

He ran away. But even he couldnt admit to himself what he was really running away from, until here he was, staring Blaine in the face, cocking his head to the side, waiting for a response.

Blaine pulled his thoughts back down to earth and cleared his throat. "I missed you too, Kurt." He hesitated, then added, "Im so sorry."

Kurt just shrugged. "Things happen. I dont blame you. I didnt try too hard, either."

Well, that stung, just a bit, but Blaine covered his hurt well. He had a lot of experience.

"But we can make it up to each other now," Kurt said. "Its hard to talk in here, and its getting a little late for me...theres an early matinee rehearsal at the theater and I need to be there for costume fitting."

Blaines eyes widened. "Are you an actor now?"

Kurt laughed. It sounded beautiful, but a little sad. "Oh, Blaine. No, I just put the costumes on the actors. But-Ill tell you all of that tomorrow. Coffee, noonish? I know this cute place right off Broadway-"

"Yes!" Blaine said immediately before remembering to keep his enthusiasm in check, "yes, that would be great. I was about to head out too, actually. It gets a little tiring trying to talk over people."

Kurt smirked. "Great minds," he said. "Give me your phone," he said.

Blaines phone was in Kurts hands within two seconds. The man punched in his information and handed it back to Blaine, grabbing his coat again.

Before Blaine could say goodbye, Kurt leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

Blaine tried not to melt into a pile of goo on the floor when Kurts lips lingered and he could feel Kurts breath on his skin. "Goodnight," Kurt whispered, then turned and walked off, past the swaying bodies drunkenly flirting and dancing, through the glass doors, and into the night, taking Blaines heart right along with him.

Blaine never questioned him about it in high school, and Kurt never brought the subject up, but now Blaine knew it for a fact-Kurt was most certainly not the sub he always appeared to be.

And that felt like very dangerous information.

*

"Noooooo," Kurt groaned the next morning, falling on Rachels bed like dead weight and waking her instantly.

"What-Kurt-whats wrong?" she asked sleepily.

"I am such an idiot," he said, turning into her body and spooning her. "I need hugs."

"I am barely awake right now. Try Santana, she probably hasnt gone to bed yet."

"Shes not here; she was my first choice to complain to."

Rachel pushed him off of her and turned around in the sheets. "Well, what can I do for you, as second-choice confidant?"

Kurt pouted, feeling no remorse for waking his best friend up after a few precious hours of sleep. "I hit on someone last night, I flirted my ass off, and I told him Id meet him for coffee today."

Rachels eyes lit up. "Kurt, oh my god! Thats wonderful! Thats nothing to be upset about!"

But Kurt just groaned again and threw one of her throw pillows over his face. "Heshaduuuum," Kurt wailed from under the pillow.

Rachel impatiently through the pillow off. "Repeat in English, please."

"Hes a Dom, Rachel. Hes a Dom! I made the biggest fool of myself, and I was too drunk to remember most of it!"

Rachels expression fell. "Oh, Kurt." She fell over her friend and tried her best to hug all the embarrassment out of him. "I know Santana says it doesnt make a difference, but that sort of thing never works out."

"I know, Rachel."

"But he accepted the invitation, right? He must be interested. What if he doesnt mind switching sometimes in the bedroom?"

Kurt sighs. "Im not Santana. Im not into kinky switch sex. You know how I scored on my state designation test, Rach. Thats not...satisfying, to me. I need someone like--god, why am I even talking about this?"

"Because talking about it helps?"

"Does it?" Kurt countered. "I mean, even if he were a sub, I cant fall for someone just like that. I just, I cant..." I cant claim someone just to lose them goes unsaid between them.

Rachel took his hand. "It doesnt have to end like that, Kurt. Love doesnt have to break your heart. It can be wonderful, too."

It could be, Kurt thinks. It could be wonderful.

And then Kurt remembers that it could never be, at least not with Blaine.

The thought is more painful than he allows himself to admit, and he decides to hold Rachel closer until he can work up enough courage to leave the bed and start his day.

He has an awkward coffee date to keep, after all.

*

Blaine might be panicking, a little bit.

Or a lot.

He didnt know how he fell asleep so easily last night-he had been so confused, but also so, so exhausted-but now, in the light of day, he had much to think about.

What was he thinking? He stopped communicating with Kurt years ago to save him from the mess that was Blaine Anderson. He could never be what Kurt needed. What Kurt deserved.

Kurt deserved someone that would give him everything. Blaine had come out last year to his parents, as a sub, and they had looked at him so sadly and said, "we know." It seemed like a fair trade off, to make them proud by being as strong and independent and dom-like as he could, personal relationships be damned. Maybe if he tried hard enough, acted the part long enough, he could change his DNA-be someone else.

And after his past experiences, he was sure he didnt want or need a relationship.

Until Kurt reappeared.

Such an attractive offer in the half-darkness, such a terrifying proposal in the light of day.

Had Kurt known all along? Was he teasing or genuine? Was he mocking Blaine for trying to act like the Dom he could never be?

Too many doubts, too many questions.

He looked at his clock-10:30am. It was now or never. He had to put an end to this. If not for him, for Kurt. Who was still as beautiful and smart as ever, and who didnt need Blaine to complicate his life.

He picked up his phone and dialed. "Hi, this is Kurt Hummel. Im busy at the moment, but you know what to do. Leave it." The beep hit his ears like a bomb, like a wake-up call, and Blaine could not make his mouth form the words.

Who was he kidding? He couldnt deny Kurt, at least not aloud. He certainly didnt even try to say no when Kurt suggested going out for coffee. He couldnt say no to something he also wanted, so much-a chance to reconnect to something special. Someone special.

The message timed out, the call ended. Blaine typed a message.

It sounded so fake, so hollow, even as a text. He was sure Kurt would see through it.

He sent it anyway.

*

"Well, at least those questions are answered," Kurt said into his phone.

"What questions?" Rachel responded.

"Does Blaine remember how idiotic I was last night coming on to him, and will he be spooked enough to cancel coffee today? The answers to both those questions are yes and also yes. I just got this text-Hi, something came up. Sorry! Maybe next time-yeah, Ill never hear from him again."

"Oh, Kurt, Im so sorry," Rachel said. "Wait, did you say ‘Blaine? As in Anderson? He was at Matchattans last night, right? Shorter side, medium build, too much gel?"

"How do you know Blaine?"

"I met him last night!" she said.

"Great, now you have a visual to go along with my agony."

"Dont be melodramatic!"

"-Hello there, pot, Im kettle."

"I mean this is good news, Kurt!"

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, tired and annoyed and in no way interested in whatever insanity Rachel Berry decided to come up with before noon on a Saturday. His silence was her cue.

"Hes not a Dom, Kurt!"

"I hate to break it to you, dear friend of mine, but I know Blaine from high school. He was a Dom then and hes a Dom now."

"Except that hes clearly not! Kurt, you cant be that blind! Youre too smart for that. Didnt you look into his eyes?"

"No, that would just quell my delusions. My alcohol-induced flirtation was enough."

He was way too grumpy and tired for this conversation. He stepped off the sidewalk to hail a cab. This was definitely not subway conversation.

"Well, if you had looked, then you would see it!" Rachel said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Didnt you wonder how you were even attracted to him, then? With you both ostensibly being Doms and all? You know pheromones dont work like that, Kurt."

Kurt hopped in the first cab that pulled up and decided on a whim to go to the park. He was getting confused and needed to walk around some more to make the pieces fit.

"I had a crush on him when we were in high school, just kids without designations. It didnt mean anything. Maybe last night was just...residual crush feelings, or something."

"I think you need to go to the park and walk this out. Are you going to the park?"

"You know me so well."

"Well, just go clear your head a bit, and then realize that Im right. And then call your Blaine and tell him to quit playing games with your heart."

"Really, Rachel? Backstreet Boys?"

He could hear the smile in her voice. "What? Theres never a bad time for a Backstreet Boys reference, Kurt."

*

Theres so much one learns in basic D/s classes during middle school and high school that one promptly forgets when they come of age and get their designation. Some of the more studious remember, but for others, what they forget often gets them intro trouble.

When you somehow blank on the name of the first president of the United States, you Google it. When you somehow, incredibly, forget what denying a Dom you want to be with feels like and you dont know how to make that feeling go away, you Google that, too.

Trusty ol Google.

Blaine feels the irritating, tense pain in his lower abdomen throb, and he winces as he types into the search bar: "unmated unclaimed designated denial treatment for sub." He was in too much of a rush to feed the computer anything more structured than the quick facts.

WebMD, okay.

Oh yeah, crap. Designated Denial Disorder. FANTASTIC. He just gave himself a disorder. How did he ever forget this was a thing?

Unlike Undesignated Denial Disorder for those that have not yet come of age and received their designation, the responses to denial post-designation are greatly heightened.

The good news just kept coming.

Symptoms for those with Triple-D vary depending on designation (dominant/submissive), the severity and nature of the denial, the reciprocal romantic nature of the denial (requited/unrequited feelings), and whether or not the individual is unmated (virginal/sexual).

For designated Doms and subs alike, one universal symptom of Triple-D has been overproduction of sexual pheromones, which release as the bodys natural way of combating triple-D in the short term. For those with long-term DDD, medication and therapy are advisable.

Those with untreated DDD may experience abdominal pain, nausea, panic and anxiety disorders, migraines, mild to severe fever, depression, hypervigilance, and a variety of other symptoms. Prolonged pheromone release can lead to intense mood swings, constant physical arousal, and inability to make sensible decisions about or during sexual encounters.

Longterm untreated DDD may result in insanity, suicidal thoughts and actions, excessively violent/unstable behavior in Doms, and enduring chest pain commonly known as "chronic heartbreak."

Why does everything sound like life or death on these sites? Blaine sighed.

He clicked on a few links to get to the specifics of what he was dealing with, and after a few more searches, got the information he needed, and it came in the form of a blog entry. (There was only so many medical websites he could stand reading.

How Triple-D Nearly Ruined My Life! (A Cautionary Tale for Subs in Denial)

My husband was designated at eighteen, and myself at fifteen (early bloomer). We dated his senior year in high school, and due to a difference in popularity, we kept the relationship secret. We both were okay with it, so the denial of our relationship to the public wasnt so hard to bear--we were in it together. And no one suspected. But after being teased about my possible relationship with him by my peers, I denied it. I denied it so hard that I got Triple-D. To make me feel worse, because we had a "reciprocal romantic connection" (for those that have no idea: you dont have to be having sex for it to be reciprocal--you just have to feel the same way about each other), I was hurting him too with my denial. I was giving him my Triple-D!

The fact that we were both mated (aka not virgins) actually helped lessen some of the more obnoxious symptoms like pheromone overproduction (though it was *definitely* still present). At least after I denied my relationship publicly, it only heightened the D/s designation dynamic, and the personal validation of our relationship via the needy sex sometimes felt worth it.

I know some people live with DDD even while theyre happy in their relationships (ie: lying to others about said relationship, mistreating their lover, breaking up with someone they love, etc) because the resulting Triple-D makeup sex is so hot.

Dont do it! My husband knew this couple in high school who would deny each other *all the time.* They did it on-off for years, even when it was clear they loved each other. It wasnt so bad, but then he passed away suddenly after high school. Residual Triple-D does happen, and it can impact your relationships throughout your life! Get your head on straight, people!

Anyway, while the needy sub sex was hot, it hurt our relationship in the long run. He couldnt trust me, and I just felt like an awful person and--worst of all--like I had failed my Dom. Losing his trust was unbearable, and I spiraled. I tried medicating, but the side-effects were seriously heinous. So I went off the meds, spiraled further, considered hurting myself to stay sane.

And for what? So I could be miserable at the top of the cheer-leading pyramid and potentially ruin my life?

Thankfully, my wonderful then-boyfriend gave me a good wake up call. He wasnt faring much better. Due to my Triple-D, he often felt irritable and bad-tempered, he couldnt concentrate in school, he felt like *HE* had somehow failed me (breaking my heart just a little bit more), and almost gave up on us. Im so glad he didnt.

(For those not paying attention in school, "breaking up" with someone youre dating--for you kiddos, them old folk call your boo a ‘match--doesnt make a reciprocal romance go away if youre both still feelin it. I learned that the hard way when I tried to break up with HIM for his own good and--guess what? Turns out denying your partner for their sake gets you TONS MORE PAIN than doing it for selfish reasons. Who would have thought?)

We faced the haters straight on, and after we went public with the whole thing, the Triple-D started to fade. I was nearly on the verge of suicide, driving my incredibly patient, incredibly loving and loyal boyfriend to pump out so many Dom pheromones that he nearly cheated on me several times over against his will, and really, it was for nothing.

No problem is insurmountable. The sad thing about Triple-D is that it only affects you if you CARE. And while nonreciprocating (aka unrequited) romantic denial sucks, at least you can attract some partners with your needy Dom/sub pheromones and fuck it out until you find someone special. Some of my friends have gone through DDD that way and eventually it wears away until you forget you ever cared about the scum that denied you or his opinion and move on with your life.

But for those who do care for each other? Really, dont make my mistake. Dont let other peoples opinion of you define you. Even if you have "a lot to lose," you really dont. Whats a bigger loss--your job, your popularity, your appeal--or your life? Or theirs.

I may be married and claimed by the whitest Ebonics-slinging, bespectacled, wheelchair-bound dork on the planet, but hey--we are awesomely happy and living in LA and he directs movies with A-listers in them. So screw the haters.

And really, shame on me for thinking it mattered when it didnt. It didnt matter at all.

-K. Abrams-Wilde

*

It was a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon, and Kurt was pissed off.

Was Blaine really a sub? Why had he hidden that from Kurt? Why hadnt he told him long ago-it wasnt like Kurt wouldnt understand, considering all the shit he went through in high school. Or maybe Blaine didnt even want Kurts attention. He was just humoring him last night, thats why he canceled today. But then why even say hello? Why even agree to coffee in the first place?

His thoughts were maddening, and increasingly resentful. Kurt sat on the grass (not even on a rock or a bench-the GRASS at Central Park, where dogs and squirrels shit alike), not even caring he was ruining his vintage Westwood pants. This must be what depression looks like.

But it seemed like other park-goers didnt think he appeared too depressed. In fact, many of them looked quite interested in Kurt, just sitting off to the side picking at the grass, trying to piece his thoughts together. A small group of women walked slowly by and whispered excitedly as they passed. Kurt looked up and saw them avert their eyes, giggle, and pick up the pace.

Kurt squinted, not understanding. Did those subs think he looked funny-a ridiculous-looking Dom just sitting on the grass like a sullen child?

But then, as he kept looking at the retreating figures of the women, it clicked. One of them turned back and stared at him, her eyes nearly black despite her naturally blonde hair, while her friends were urging her to walk forward and not turn back, which she was clearly attempting to do, looking at Kurt as if he was something to eat.

Well. He had certainly never inspired that response in a straight woman before. Maybe she had a type that happened to be flamboyantly and obviously gay?

Kurt didnt think much of it until later, when he started walking again through the park in the direction of home. Guys started taking notice of him, too. And while that did happen somewhat often among the unmatched crowd, today even the sub guys there with their claimed partners seemed charmed.

One seemingly unclaimed man (well, it didnt seem like he was there with anybody, at least) came up to him with a breathy "excuse me--Sir?"

It didnt seem like a pleasantry. It seemed like a title. Kurt drew in a breath.

He knew what this was. Rachel used to do it all the time in high school to Finn to make herself feel more attractive and powerful among her peers. She quit when she realized the emotional toll on Finn and herself, though it took her a long time to shake off the residual triple-D after Finns passing.

Oh god. Triple-D. But...how? He knew what it was by watching Rachel over the years, though he never experienced it himself. He hadnt denied anyone he cared for as far as he could recall, and he had yet to meet a sub who could deny him anything. But of course he had Triple-D. He realized he was walking around the park while inexplicably hard, and that had to be some powerful pheromones he was sending out because, damn, this guy was hot! For a moment, he pushed aside his concerns over how and why, and turned his attention to the opportunity in front of him.

"Follow me," he said, and he walked purposefully off to the nearest thick tree, not even watching to see if the man was still there. He didnt care too much about privacy, he just wanted something to lean back on while he fucked this guys face and didnt have to think about Blaine for one minute.

And it worked, for that minute. The immediate relief he felt after getting off with the stranger was replaced by a sinking feeling in his gut that made him feel much worse than before.

He felt like a douchebag. Like he had let someone down. Specifically, like he let his sub down.

I dont have a fucking sub, this is ridiculous, he thought, and stormed off.

*

Blaine was in pain.

Correction: he was in a lot of pain.

In between the nausea and the nearly incapacitating migraines and crippling anxiety and the slight fever, he also was constantly in a state of arousal and could do nothing about it.

He knew jerking off wouldnt help-if anything, giving in would make it worse. Hed read about it-there was a reason pheromone release was only a short-term fix. A Dom had to dominate a sub to quiet the symptoms, and a sub had to submit to a Dom. That was the only way to even get temporary relief.

He tried to think through the pain in his head, and ended up taking a cab to Danis apartment after 24hrs had passed and the pain had only gotten worse. He knew she was a designated sub, but she was one of the very few-even here in New York City-that was rarely a sub in the bedroom despite her designation. It was a contradiction, but perhaps one that could work to his advantage. Who else would better understand his predicament? Well, a doctor. But this could be a quick fix. He decided to get checked out later when he looked and felt less like a strung-out junkie.

He arrived at her building and buzzed her apartment like a madman. "Let me in!" he said through the intercom. "I feel like Im dying, I lost my phone somewhere, and Ive been sexually propositioned and felt up like fourty times since I left my apartment!"

After a moment, the intercom sounded back. "Dont know who you are, guy, but damn, that sounds like me after a night of heavy drinking." After a buzz, he was let in. He didnt even bother to question who the voice was, he didnt care. There main door opened, and he ran in and up the steps to Danis apartment, out of breathe and about to pass out.

Dani was standing in the door, very concerned. "You look like shit."

"I dont feel much different, to be honest." Blaine said. "You need to help me."

"What is that smell?" A raven-haired Latina, who had answered the intercom before, said. She looked down her nose at Blaine. "Well hello, Mr. Desperate."

"Santana, be nice. This my friend Blaine."

"He reeks."

"I have Triple-D," he said, hoping the Dom would show him a little pity in his moment of weakness because her ridicule was making him very upset.

"Jesus, dont cry about it," Santana said, but her expression changed the moment she said the words, like she knew what Triple-D looked like firsthand. He wondered if she had ever denied someone like this. If she had ever denied herself like this.

Santana looked at Dani, speaking to her in that way lovers do without saying words, and Blaine could tell, even in his Triple-D haze, that if they hadnt claimed each other yet, they were well on their way. Blaine whimpered in pain, and both women turned to him with matching looks of worry and pity.

"Come here, honey," Santana said softly, and took Blaines hand, leading him to the couch. They sat down, and Santana wrapped her hands around him and let Blaine lean into him and cry softly on her chest. He realized she was wearing one of Danis old shirts, and he tried to smile. Good for Dani.

The woman held him and stroked his back while Dani was in the kitchen, probably making tea-it always helped to calm him down in the past. Santana shushed him and urged him to "take deep breaths," perfectly coached on how to deal with someone with Triple-D as hopelessly afflicted as Blaine was.

Dani sat down on his other side and put the tea on the coffee table. "Im a little lost," she said softly, looking at Santana. "I dont know what to do here. My last girlfriend and I fell out of love...Ive never had Triple-D."

"Its actually a common misconception that break-ups cause Triple-D," Santana explained softly, sounding like one of Blaines web sources. "It usually starts way before a break-up, and even then not all people who deny or get denied get it. Its more rare than people think. Like those idiots who say theyre sooo OCD when they dont let the food on their plates touch. I dont know how many times Ive heard a bitch on the train moan about being soooo Triple-D right now after a breakup, meanwhile theyre out with their girlfriends getting mani-pedis and gorging on ice cream. Meanwhile this little one probably cant keep anything down. Can you, honey?"

"...that tea does smell kind of nice, though," Blaine admitted quietly, snuggling into her t-shirt like a child.

"Thats because its basically scented hot water."

"So what can I do?" Dani asked, directing her comment to Santana, who clearly had the most knowledge and experience out of the three.

"I dont know," she said. "It depends on him. What do you need, sweetheart?" she whispered, and to Blaine it was like a balm. It was a temporary respite from the pain, to know she cared enough to be gentle.

"I need a Dom," he croaked back. "I need to..." he screwed his eyes shut. It was too embarrassing to admit.

"You need to come," she said.

Blaine just whimpered some more and tried to hide his burning face.

"I wont think less of you for it, even if we just met. Theyre just physical needs. Your bodys just trying to cope with all these feelings. Hey, I get it. A friend of mine had Triple-D for a long while."

"What happened to them?" Blaine asked.

Santana smiled kindly down at him. "She got better. With a good, understanding support system," she said, eying her new girlfriend over his head.

It must have been another cue, because Danis hands were on his back, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "I wont think less of you either, honey. You know Ill always be there for you, no matter what."

And Blaine and Dani experienced enough "whats" in their old life; the reminder nearly made him start crying again.

"Please..." he said, looking up at Santana.

"Come, baby. Its okay. Weve got you."

And, biting down on his lip, Blaine came in his pants like a teenager.

*

"And another thing!" Kurt exclaimed. "I am sick of people not thinking Im good enough! And I have no idea what I did to deserve this but you know what, Rach? I dont think even care. This is just ridiculous. I didnt let anyone down and I should not have to feel like I do!"

"Yes," Rachel said wearily, "youve only been saying so for the past hour and a half."

She wanted to be patient. She really did. But patient left the apartment about an hour ago.

When she heard the apartment door close, Rachels head snapped up. "Oh, thank god youre home, Ive been going out of my mind-"

"I go away for the weekend and its Hummelberry bedlam up in here. Whats going on?" Santana said, looking between her roommates. "Oh, no way-" she started, realizing the situation.

"Santana-" Rachel started.

"Hummel, are you serious? This is seriously happening right now?" Kurt threw his hands in the air, annoyed by her attitude, and his predicament. "Who the hell did you deny?"

"See, this is what Im talking about! I must have done something wrong, right? Well, the blames not on me, Santana. Someone did this to me."

"I told you," Rachel sighed. "Its Blaine. You have at least residual feelings for him, he led you on yesterday and denied you via text. Itll pass. But you either need more condoms or a trip to the doctor, you cant keep screwing every guy in Manhattan."

"Well, Blaine obviously doesnt care if I have residual feelings or not, because Blaine keeps ignoring my calls!" He was furious, and he had no outlet. He knew he couldnt keep yelling at his friends, knew he was acting like an out of control douchebag. He knew it wouldnt fix anything, but he couldnt help it.

"Hold up," Santana said. "Are you telling me you have warm, squishy feelings for some guy named Blaine?"

Kurt gave her a long suffering look and Rachel rolled her eyes. "Obviously, Santana," Rachel supplied.

"Well hobbit, I didnt ask you, but I thought the angry elf over here might like to know he doesnt suffer in vain."

Kurt sighed. "What are you talking about, Santana?"

"Im saying, Keebler Prince, that its totally reciprocal. He denied you, and he denied himself. He denied himself so hard he nearly passed out after I allowed him to come in his pants."

Kurt was positively enraged. "Are you making fun of him now?"

Santana took a quick step back and looked down at the floor, and Rachel flinched with Kurts cold tone. "Imtelling you," she said calmly, quietly, "if you would just listen, that theres a really needy sub in a lot of pain right now because he denied himself something he really wanted-you."

"Blaine is a Dom. I knew him in high school. Hes a Dom."

Santana looked incredulously at Rachel as if to say ‘has he been doing this song and dance all afternoon? Rachel just shrugged helplessly.

"Kurt," she said softly. "I know its difficult to get through your hormone-soaked brain right now, but I actually just met Blaine not two hours ago. And if youre okay with him getting hunted down by every interested Dom in the city-and believe me, hes a hot little commodity-by all means, let him suffer. If not, you can reach him here and get to the bottom of this."

She doesnt meet his eye, but walks over to her friend and gives him her phone. On the screen theres a number for someone named Dani Harper. Kurt gives her a look but doesnt question her.

"And cowboy, put that thing back in its holster, its poking me in the leg," she adds.

Kurt lifts his head and looks down his nose at her. "I guess Ill go put on some tighter pants, then."

"Well, just dont hurt yourself getting in them."

*

"Im still dying, you know."

Dani scoffed. "Youre not dying. Youre being silly," she said, carding her hands through his lose curls. He was laying on the couch with his head in her lap, and feeling a little better, though he was still running a slight fever and he was once again sporting an impressive boner that, try as he may, he couldnt get rid of.

He remembered the article he had read online: "The surefire way to get rid of Triple-D for reciprocal romantics is to literally come to your senses. Renouncing the initial denial is key, and for the as yet unmated, mating will generally lift symptoms within a few hours."

He wasnt sure if Kurt was going through similar torment, and if he was, if he knew Blaine was to blame. Of course, that would mean-if Blaine could just get over some of his hangups-that he wasnt alone in this, that all he would have to do is take back his initial denial and rejection, and he and Kurt could stand a chance. It would mean that Kurt felt the same way.

Otherwise, he had just done this to himself. It wasnt impossible to deny yourself without being in a reciprocal relationship, but it was pretty damn rare. It would be just his luck.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Blaine said. "James."

"Shh, honey, we dont have to talk about him. Hes in the past."

"Sometimes I wish I could just be brave. Go back in time and tell my parents Id rather live with my grandma-they gave me an ultimatum, you know that? ...I could have stayed in Ohio. If I had, maybe I would have told Kurt the truth. Maybe we would have been happy together. I would never have moved to LA, or met James and get screwed in the head. I kinda wish I never left Lima." He looked up. "Except for you. Youve been the best thing about my life for the past decade."

She smiled sweetly. "You flatter me, Mr. Anderson."

"Do you like her? Santana?"

Dani sighed, but she looks a little...enchanted. "I think she could be someone really special to me."

"I think she already is, if you want my opinion."

Dani shook her head. "Nope, dont need no silly boys opinion."

"I am a silly boy, arent I?"

"The silliest," she agreed. "And dont think youre so special that you could deny yourself without affecting him as well. From what you told me, it seems like hes all about you."

"Wishful thinking, maybe," was Blaines self-deprecating response.

"Hey, dont talk like that. Its not true, first of all, and second, youre gonna lose your hard-on thinking that way. And what is Kurt going to think when he gets here and youre not excited to see him?"

Blaine pulled away from her, pouting. "Dont tease."

She smiled something sinister. "Oh honey, I wouldnt. But I just spoke to him on the phone-"

Blaine leaped off the couch. "Jesus Christ, when!?"

"A half hour ago, when I went to the kitchen for snacks. B, dont panic."

"Im panicking!" He looked around. "Hell be here any minute then! Where can you hide me? Can I fit under the bed? Behind the bookcase?"

She tried not to laugh. "Blaine, youll be fine if you just calm down."

"I cant calm down, Danielle. My hair is a chia pet AND I HAVE TRIPLE-D! Do you really think this is how I want the guy Im in love with to see me after ten years, in good lighting?"

Dani shrugged. "I could turn the light off?" she suggested. Yeah, she was just going to ignore that bigger thing he just said for the moment.

The buzzer sounded, then the intercom. "Hello-Dani? Its Kurt." Blaine was a deer caught in headlights. He wasnt not even blinking.

Dani walked over to the intercom. "Hi, Kurt. Come right up." The buzzer sounded again.

"Oh god, hide me," Blaine whispered, immediately feeling faint.

"Whoa, whoa, hey there," Dani said, catching him and redirecting him back to the couch. "Just rest. Your knight in shining Prada is on his way up, youll say you didnt mean for all this drama, you get your mating on, and voila! Good as new."

He realized then she was slipping on her jacket and reached up to grip her hand. "Dont leave me. I need you."

"You dont need me. You need a Dom."

A tear slid down his cheek. "Hes not going to want me. Im not good enough for him."

"Oh Blaine, youre the only boy silly enough to think anyone would deny you," she said, reaching down and planting a kiss on his forehead. "Except for you."

She leaned back and gave him a smile. "Dont deny yourself anymore, okay?"

A knock on the door ended the moment. She grinned. "Its showtime, Blainers."

Blaine pulled the couch blanket hed been snuggled in before over his head. "Please tell him Im not here."

He heard her walk away. "Ill do no such thing. Ill see you later, B. Dont do anything I wouldnt do!"

And then she was gone.

Blaine heard the door close, and felt rather than heard Kurt enter the room. His aura was immense, and it made Blaine shiver.

It was something subs and Doms could subtly pick up on in the opposite designation-how true to their designation they really were. It was pretty difficult to tell pre-designation, but afterward, it was quite easy, if you were looking for it.

When kids came of age, they took the state designation test, which was kind of the standardized test of personality designation in the US. Used to determine whether one would be labeled a Dom or a sub forevermore, it also allowed for a sliding scale of Dominance and submission, up to ten points on each side. The closer one was to zero, the more likely they were to experiment with their Dom/sub roles in romantic relationships. Other countries, especially in Europe, would label them Switches, though they were largely unrecognized in the American designation system.

His mother was a level five sub. His father was the most intimidating man he had ever met, and he knew for a fact he scored a seven on his designation test. Even his ex, James, scored a six. Blaine learned in school that 90% of individuals do not surpass seven on the higher ends of the spectrum, or score below a three on the lower. Dani was an exception. Dani was a sub who scored a two on her designation test, and that was rare enough. Santana was on the fringe, or close to it, probably no more than a three or four on the Dom scale.

Blaine never did want to tell Kurt when he was crying over that jerk Karofsky that the bully who had tormented him and called him names and forced him out of public school, who hid his sub designation from his peers when he came of age early, was acting out because he was young and scared and shocked that Kurt, even undesignated, was more of a Dom than Kurts Coach Sylvester (who was terrifying enough in her own way without being a level-8 Dom).

It could never excuse Karofskys actions, of course. But Blaine couldnt even imagine being in the same school as Kurt and being a teenage, hormonal, newly-designated sub. If Kurt had been designated back then, if Blaine had, Blaine at least would be following Kurt around on his hands and knees, even without being told. How Karofsky had not begged for Kurts forgiveness was mind-blowing, Blaine could only assume it was Karofskys fear of being outed as a sub that stopped him.

Blaine prevented himself from submitting right there in Matchattans because at this point he had decades of suppressing his submissive instinct in public, even though a man like Kurt could have any sub he wanted-hell, any Dom he wanted-on their knees with just a look. No sub would think twice about it. Kurt could make a career out of it.

But, just like Blaine, Kurt didnt broadcast what he was to the world. If anything, he tried his best to hide it.

Blaine learned to control everything about himself, wishing so hard to be dominant that he actually did pass nine times out of ten, which was astounding and shocking. Though people knew better, judging a book by its cover was still a very popular notion, especially in the more conservative states. All you had to do was stand up straight, look unaffected and act confident, and suddenly you were a Dom. Blaine had learned that early on, and used it to his advantage in high school.

And while that used to be reassuring, to be able to pass so easily, ever since he felt out Kurts presence in that dark club, he just wanted Kurt to see him for what he always was.

And Kurt probably did see it, if only subconsciously. If he didnt, he probably wouldnt have dialed the flirt way past what was considered appropriate for two Doms.

"I cant believe I didnt notice before," Kurt said into the quiet room, his voice almost reverent. "Jesus, Blaine..."

Now Kurt could see him, the real him. No more hiding.

It was a relief.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed dumbly, not knowing what else to say. He heard Kurt step around the couch and stifle a laugh.

"Well, I thought there was a grown man in this apartment, but all I see is a blanket shaped like a one."

Blaine smiled despite himself. He was being ridiculous. It was just Kurt, sub or Dom, it didnt matter. Kurt had always made him feel safe. He shouldnt be hiding from him.

He pulled the fabric off his head and stared resolutely somewhere in the area of Kurts shins.

"There he is." Kurt moved to sit on the coffee table, across from Blaine, and suddenly he was subjected to the absolute breathtaking clarity of Kurts gorgeous face-so close he could see the freckles-in the soft early afternoon light from the west-facing window.

He could have said any one of the many thoughts floating through his mind at the moment, like "Youre so beautiful," or "Im so sorry for denying you" or even "please ignore the way my hair looks," but all that came out was a sad sounding "Im unmated."

Cool, just blurt out the most embarrassing thing you can think of, Blaine. Thats certainly appealing.

But when he looked back at Kurt, the other mans eyes were blown black, and Blaines knees started to shake with the unrelenting desire to fall to his knees. "How is that even possible? Youre 25 and...what, like, a level eight sub?"

"Nine," Blaine admitted, looking down again. It was humiliating to admit.

"But no one knows," Kurt said, filling in the blanks. "Because you hide it." Silence. Blaine knew Kurt wanted to ask why-why he hid his designation. Why he never told Kurt, at least, after all Kurt went through in high school. But that was a conversation for another time, and they had more pressing matters.

The air around them was saturated with a tension only tearing off each others clothes would dispel, and both men knew it. Though Kurt and Blaine seemed to be masters in restraint.

Mostly.

"Im glad it made you safer at least, the hiding" Kurt said quietly, his hand coming to rest on Blaines knee. "I cant even think right now with how loudly your pheromones are yelling at me to fuck you." Blaine groaned as his dick twitched. It seemed to respond well to the sound of Kurts voice. "Its like a neon sign over your head. Over this whole building. You are so lucky Santana swore off men."

"Im sorry I denied you," Blaine said quickly, needing to rid himself of the guilt. At least it would clear up Kurts Triple-D, if not his own. "I didnt want to. I was just so scared."

Kurt leaned forward, his face the picture of worry, and arousal. Blaine knew it was really only Kurts caring, loving side-and his respect for Blaine-that was preventing him from acting on his other, more carnal, Dom instincts, like fucking Blaine into incomprehensible mess on Danis original hardwood floor.

Right now, Blaine could see his desire to protect in his eyes. It was the same look Kurt gave him back in high school, when Blaine talked about school or family drama, only now way more intense. Kurt wasnt hiding who he was anymore, either. "I know youre sorry, and youre forgiven. But why were you scared, Baby?"

Blaine closed his eyes and let the forgiveness (and the pet name) wash over him. He didnt have to hold back. This was Kurt. Kurt would make everything okay if Blaine would just let himself be honest. "You deserve someone better." He whispered. "You deserve the perfect sub, Sir."

"Blaine Anderson, you are ridiculous," Kurt breathed. And Blaine opened his eyes. "You are a smart, funny, talented, gorgeous level-9 sub who happens to be one of my best friends, give or take a few years radio silence," he joked. Blaine huffed out an embarrassed laugh. "If anyone could even come close to being perfect, its you."

Nope, he thought. Nope, he was not going to cry. He was not going to be that sub that cries when his partner pays him a compliment. There were internet memes about that, for goodness sake.

"And I swear to the flying spaghetti monster in the sky, Blaine, if you deny that, I think youll just have to be institutionalized. Therell be no hope for you." Blaine giggled despite the tears forming in his eyes. "People will start telling stories about you in years to come-‘ah, Blaine Anderson. The perfect sub who denied he was the perfect sub and hid under a blanket instead of saying hi to his Dom like a normal person."

"Y-youre my Dom?" he squeaked, his heart filling with hope and joy just at the thought. He had never allowed himself this thought, not seriously.

"Smart enough to put two and two together, insane enough to ask such a silly question. They must love you at the asylum." Kurt teased, finding Blaines hands and held each in his, Blaine gripping back, holding on for life. "God, your skin is burning. Dont you feel a little better? Im almost back to normal now..."

Blaine smiled, but it was a weak one. "Um, no, actually. I mean, emotionally, Im fine now. But Im still sick. Unmated, remember?"

"Oh." Kurt said. "Oh! So do you want-I mean. We could get you to the hospital or a professional Dom...or hell, you could just walk outside and find someone thatll help with that."

Blaine felt it like a punch to the gut-rejection, denial-and his face fell. He looked back down at his lap to hide the heartbreak written on his face.

"Oh god, Blaine, I was kidding," Kurt says, shaking Blaines hands softly. "Blaine, look at me. Im not an idiot, and Im not cruel. I know it has to be me." Blaine looked up at the Dom but could hardly see through the tears welling up in his eyes. He felt a hand on his face and he leaned into the touch, even though the touch wrecked him. "Like I would really give you Double Triple-D by denying you while your sick."

Great. Just fantastic. Kurt didnt want to be his Dom at all. He was just obligated to help Blaine.

Blaine wished Kurt would just reject him and leave him to fend for himself. Now he felt pathetic too. It was so much worse.

"It doesnt have to be you, Kurt...not if you dont want me."

Kurt sighed. His hands slipped out of Blaines as he stood up. "Blaine. Im a Dom. I can make my own decisions without you allowing me a choice."

They must have fucked up on Blaines test. Obviously, he was the worst sub in the world.

"Get up. And get your jacket on," Kurt said.

Blaine couldnt deny the direct order, but following it gave him little relief. He was so dejected about his failure to convince Kurt he was good enough (like he could ever be good enough for Kurt) that any attempt he made at being an acceptable sub all seemed too little, too late.

"I left home without one, Sir," Blaine said to the floor. He couldnt even follow this simple order. It was laughable. Someone should make his life into a Lifetime movie, because it was miserably hilarious. And now that he stood up, Blaines constant boner had joined the party as well, his blanket having fallen from his lap, making him look like such a sad sight.

"Wear mine, then," Kurt said, his voice just a shade gravely and low, and Blaine felt the fabric in his hand. "It might help when we leave the building...to mask your pheromones."

Blaine nodded tiredly and made to put the jacket on over his shirt. He wobbled a bit, and braced himself on the side of the couch for a moment.

Kurt held on to his other arm and held him steady as they left the apartment.

Blaine wanted to know where they were going, if Kurt was really going to help or if he was just dropping him off at the first sub clinic in the area, but stayed quiet. He wanted to know, but definitely didnt want to ask.

Just let it happen, he thought. Today cant get any worse. Hes obviously mad but hes going to get you through this. Kurt wouldnt abandon you.

He said he was your Dom.

Blaine shook his head, trying to throw the idea to the back of his mind as they walked down the stairs and out the front door into the dusky afternoon. Several people turned their heads to watch-Blaine could feel their eyes burning into him-but he kept his own on the ground, and waited as Kurt hailed them a cab. He had been guided from the building wrapped up in Kurt-Kurts jacket over his body, Kurts arm draped along his back, Kurts hand gripping Blaines right arm in an iron vice, preventing him from falling over and down the stairs. It was both excruciatingly embarrassing torture and the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Kurt opened the door of the taxi that pulled up, and shepherded Blaine inside. But when Kurt sat down beside him and shut the door, he closed the distance there, too, despite the fact that Blaine didnt need the extra support now that he wasnt on his feet.

He crushed Blaine against him, and turned Blaines head so that his face was buried somewhere in between Kurts collarbone and neck. He could feel Kurts arms surrounding him and protecting him, and Blaine felt like he could finally, finally breathe.

"West 118th and Amsterdam, please," he heard Kurt tell the driver in a cool, level tone.

"He okay?" the cabbie asked.

"Hell be fine," Kurt said, a low, steely sharpness in his voice that left no room for argument. Blaine shivered and canted his hips up as if the raw power hed felt in Kurts voice had been a command.

"Shhh, Baby, youll be home soon," Kurt whispered gently, stroking his hair. "I promise Ill take care of you. Relax."

The direct order and the promise were all Blaine needed. He felt loose and calm and safe, and when he tucked in closer to his best friend, all he could think was, Kurt always keeps his promises.

*

Kurt didnt know what happened, but Blaines constant undermining of his authority, his unrelenting denial that he was as perfect for Kurt as Kurt insisted he was, and his stubborn attitude just caused Kurt to flip completely into Dom mode. Most Doms do this unthinkingly, on instinct to control and protect, but for Kurt, he always had to err on the side of caution and reign that control in.

He knew it was unfair for him to Dom anyone so casually, let alone Blaine in this state. (Though Kurt had reasoned with himself that this was  an extenuating circumstance that called for drastic measures.)

Kurt was always careful not to get carried away and Dom someone unintentionally, since sometimes that influence extended to other Doms (who were always very confused when it did happen). He didnt like to call it a power, persay, but definitely an influence. He wouldnt even use it at work to get ahead.

His father had, when he ran for Congress, but Burt was just a Dom with a higher-than-average designation. Absolutely no one in their right mind would look at Burt Hummel and see his dominating personality as an abuse of power. Maybe over in Europe blatant displays of ones dominance frowned upon, but being a blue-blooded American, it only made people look up to Burt Hummel. Doms were inspired by him, and subs appreciated the way Burts careful policies were all-encompassing. Burt had even crafted legislation that would make schools more sub-friendly, and took on a fierce anti-bullying campaign inspired by Kurt. Asserting ones Dominance was always positive.

Well, usually.

Not in Kurts case.

Kurt learned early on that asserting his Dominance would probably get him into trouble.

It was a sad day when Kurt learned he couldnt control his dominance while acting or performing. And when he sang, he could move subs to tears or ecstasy, and make the most dominant of Doms shiver and forget themselves, but he couldnt deal with the pressure that came from an audience that would proposition him after every performance. There was even that one fistfight that broke out after he sang just one song in a small musical review at NYADA, when the Dom of a claimed sub tried to attack him for "forcing" his sub to submit to Kurt, and a switch-Dom had come to his defense- "Are you crazy? Its not like he can control it!"

But he could. He could control it.

Kurt Hummel could never be an actor. He would never get to sing on a Broadway stage.

He had dropped out of the program two weeks later.

That was just how it had to be to keep the peace. He even held back in his brief relationships, having to mentally allow his subs the choice in leaving. Or else they never would be able to leave.

No one denied Kurt Hummel. No one ever could. Not without permission.

And Kurt promised himself he would never, never exert that type of control over Blaine. Even when he had felt it coursing through his veins as a child, as a teenager-ever present and just under the surface.

But Blaine had pushed and pushed and pushed.

So, no, Blaine was not going to be treated like a friend, or a stranger on the street. Obviously this was something he couldnt joke about without confusing and hurting Blaine. Commands, structure and control-that he could do for Blaine. That, Blaine could understand.

Being an exception had made everything so confusing for Kurt when he was younger and undesignated. Even then, he could make his level-9 Dom father eat his tasteless soup without a fight after his heart attack left him mostly in Kurts care. And after his designation, the thing that attracted most subs to him in the first place also tended to frighten them off in the end.

"Its too much, Kurt, I need someone more...on my level."

"Kurt, the sex is great, but lets be honest-Ill never be what you need."

"I just dont see this working out as a match...but can we still scene together?"

"One day youll find someone better and I wont be able to take the rejection."

The excuses were endless.

Technically speaking, hed been denied so many times. But he allowed it to happen. It never meant anything to him.

Until now.

He wondered if Blaine was trying to preemptively shut him out, like the others had done before.

He wondered why it mattered so much. It wasnt like he had even heard from Blaine in ten years. He shouldnt care about someone who had shut him out so easily, without so much as a goodbye.

And yet, he cared so much for Blaine. And it wasnt residual. Those feelings from high school had always been there, and had never faded over time.

And here they were again, amplified and more frustrating than ever before.

Before he even reached Dani Harpers apartment that afternoon, he knew what he had to do to help Blaine. And he knew afterward, he would never be able to let Blaine go. There was too much feeling between them, too much history. If Blaine would have him, he wasnt going to resist.

But nothing could have prepared him for what hit him immediately after stepping out of that cab. After walking into that apartment.

Blaines presence was so strong, so intense, that he could register the other mans arousal and desperation in the air. It was maddening to know everyone in that building could feel it. The sensation was overpowering.

He could just see himself standing over Blaine, fisting those tight curls and feeding his cock into Blaines mouth until he was gagging on it, and pulling out only to come on his face. He would order Blaine not to taste it because he hadnt earned the right to taste it, because he had denied his Dom and deserved to be punished by wearing Kurts cum on his face. And Blaine would know better than to come. He wouldnt even ask permission. He would just sit and wait patiently for what would happen next.

And while Kurt was prepping Blaines ass, teasingly and mercilessly slow, Kurt would whisper words of devotion and love into his ear- "Youre mine, Sweetheart, theres no need to deny me. Ill always be there for you. Such a perfect, beautiful sub. You dont have to hide anymore." And then he would fuck him over the couch, rough and relentless, because thats what Blaine needed-that ownership, the obliteration of any doubt Blaine had about being allowed to have Kurt.

And then Kurt would tell him to come, and Blaine would instantly obey, his body just waiting for the command. And after, Blaine would fall into blissful subspace while Kurt rocked him in his arms and slowly fed him whatever small thing the girls had been giving him to survive on while he was sick. He would promise Blaine the world, and mean it. It would be easy.

But it wasnt easy.

Because when he arrived at the apartment, something else in the air vied for Kurts attention: the overwhelming intensity of Blaines insecurity. His fear. His utter dejection.

Keeping his hands off Blaine certainly hadnt been easy.

Especially after Blaine had practically admitted he was a virgin.

But everything in him was screaming at him to protectprotectprotect. As much as Blaines humiliation and extreme vulnerability was, unfortunately, very attractive and tempting, it also made his heart ache. Whenever a sub was hurt like this, he could never turn away. Like when Santana made a point to ridicule Rory Flanagan that one time during Dodgeball, and Kurt told her off and then ran for class president under an anti-bullying campaign that also banned Dodgeball at school. And Tina getting pushed around during Gaga week freshman year by Azimio and Karofsky was the straw that broke the camels back for Kurt, leading to his "altercation" with Karofsky and his transfer.

Kurt had to dominate without going too far. He had to just do what was enough to get Blaine through his Triple-D. There was no way he was going to do anything sexual with Blaine-not even kiss him-while Blaine remained under the impression (and apparently, thoroughly unconvinced) that Kurt didnt want him. Even when he knew-even when Kurt could sense-how desperate Blaine was.

He certainly wasnt going to call attention to Blaines tented pants. Nope.

Despite the conditions they were under, Blaine still deserved better than to have his first time in his best friends apartment while fever-high, sick, dizzy, feeling guilty and ashamed, and with someone he didnt believe wanted him.

No, despite how much Kurt just wanted to fuck him, or how much Blaine needed to have the Triple-D fucked out of his system-and, god, Kurt hated knowing Blaine was so miserable, it physically hurt him to see-Kurt knew he had to go about this a different way.

So he quickly texted Santana and Rachel to be out of the apartment when they arrived, because he figured Blaine would want to save face, and he deserved a little privacy.

Perhaps his grip was a little too tight walking down the stairs of Danis apartment building. Maybe he was a little possessive, staring down anyone who had looked their way as they left the building. Many passers by had taken an immediate interest in what they could feel amplified in the air around them, and what they could see: a Dom with an iron grip and possessive glare leading a sub that looked both highly aroused and completely debauched out of a building, and tossing said sub into a cab like a ragdoll.

It looked like the start of a porno. Santana certainly would have approved. A few women on the street fanned themselves and Kurt saw one man nod and give him a thumbs up. Great.

When Kurt jumped in the cab he looked up at the driver and saw the man hungrily watching Blaine. Which seemed absolutely ridiculous because Kurt was definitely not getting the gay vibe from this guy.

Kurt pulled Blaine close to him, trying to give himself peace of mind along with Blaine. He told the cabbie his address, and when the man nodded and asked about Blaine, Kurts voice turned to ice. Fuck off, buddy, hes mine, was the warning in his answering tone, which apparently seemed to do something for Blaine, who probably didnt even realize he was keening into Kurts neck while sliding his ass off the seat, anticipating a touch that would have to wait.

"Jesus," the cabbie had swore under his breath to the sound of Blaines high, soft cries. "Fucking christ..."

Kurt wasnt impressed by their driver, but he didnt want the guy to get him and Blaine into an accident, so Kurt calmed the sub down and they made their way to Kurts apartment.

Kurt couldnt shake the thought that having Blaine in his arms, protecting him, caring for him like this, felt right in a way it hadnt been with anyone else.

But he had to remember to protect himself as well. When Kurt committed to something, he really went all in. And he wanted Blaine more than anything. Kurt would be an absolute moron not to have Blaine as his sub. Blaine really was a gorgeous piece of work, with those curls and those eyelashes and those lips, just made for sucking cock...and a fucking 9-level sub, which was not only desirable, but allowed Blaine pretty much the pick of anyone he could ever want to be with. Even Mr. Straight Cabbie wanted to take him home. It saddened him to know Blaine had been hiding his designation from the world, though secretly it thrilled him to know it was probably why Blaine was 25 and unmated. He would be the fist person to make Blaine come on his cock. The thought was very distracting.

That aside, Blaine seemed to still be every bit the smart, funny, friendly boy he knew long ago. And Kurt would have been lying to himself if he denied he fell for Blaine at first sight, on that first trip to Dalton with his father to check out the school and finalize his transfer, watching Blaine sing and dance his heart out with the Warblers.

Their eyes had locked, and Blaine hit an off-note, and Blaine sheepishly smiled and continued singing aboutskintight jeans.

When Blaine left, when Blaine stopped calling, he wasnt angry. Sad, yes. But not angry. He felt like a failure.

For some reason, his friendship just wasnt enough for Blaine.

He remembered the week after Blaine left, at the next Warbler recital.

Trent had sighed, "I wish Blaine was here, wed sound so much better."

Wes harrumphed, "I guess I cant fault him for wanting to get out of Ohio, but I thought he would at least stay til graduation. Wheres that Warbler loyalty?"

"You would make him live in the dorms year round, without any family nearby?" Kurt had defended Blaine, thinking Wes was clearly being unreasonable.

Wes had looked at him, first confused, then full of pity. "He has family here, in Westerville. An aunt and uncle and cousins, and his grandmother Tessa. He was thinking about living with her when his parents put the offer on the table if he wanted to stay at Dalton, but he chose not to. Im...sorry he didnt tell you about it, Kurt."

Kurt knew Blaine preferred his grandmothers warm love over the benign neglect of his parents. Kurt had listened Blaine complain endlessly about having to move away from his friends, from his school, about having to constantly deal with his older brother now that he was moving to L.A. And how he didnt get a choice to stay.

And it was then that Kurt realized Blaine didnt tell Kurt, his best friend, because Blaine wanted to not just escape the Midwest, but Kurt, apparently, as well.

So Kurt let him slip away. If thats what Blaine wanted, he wasnt going to fight it. Even if he couldnt understand why Blaine let him go.

No matter how much Kurt cared for Blaine, he had to guard his own heart. It was clear Blaine felt some strong way about him. But just as Rachel had mentioned before, it could just be residual feelings from when they were kids. Or, as Santana always reminded him, it could all just be sex.

Kurt knew his natural dominance was an aphrodisiac to submissives, especially for someone with a designation score as high as Blaines. Perhaps seeing Kurt again as a designated Dom, coupled with those flirty memories from their childhood and Blaines own insecurities, had given them the shared Triple-D. Maybe Blaine kept pushing Kurt away not because he was fighting his own instinct.

Maybe Blaine really just didnt want him, and never did.

But if that was the case, wouldnt he be able to feel that denial still? Blaine had renounced it, and it seemed genuine.

Or maybe the only feelings Blaine had for him now were sexual.

Regardless, he knew what he had to do to help his friend, and it wasnt something he was going to regret. Kurt could put aside his own concerns for now.

Right now, he had a sick sub to take care of.

And if Kurts heart was a little worse-for-wear afterward, well, he wouldnt bring himself to regret that either.

He would be anything Blaine needed him to be.