Kurt was watching Rachel's temper tantrum with amusement, because it was better than thinking about the poor boy who had collapsed on stage. It had been so hard to watch that, and then to walk out of the auditorium. He had wanted to help the boy so badly. When he'd fallen to his knees on the stage, Kurt's heart had jumped right into his throat. The feelings were threatening to return now, just from thinking about it. He took a deep breath and pushed the memory away. He didn't even know why it had affected him so much. But at least he wasn't going insane about the whole situation the way Rachel was.

"It's not fair!" Rachel said, pacing at the front of the room. "We were the only ones to perform before the Warblers' disaster, and when the competition starts up again with all the other groups, the judges will have completely forgotten about us. We need to demand to perform a second time. Preferably at the end, that's the most favorable spot, but I would settle for starting over and being the openers again. We need to write out our petition draft immediately, who has a piece of paper?"

Mr. Schue stopped her from opening a drawer in the teacher's desk. "Rachel, that's completely inappropriate. That kid is having a medical emergency, and you're sitting here worrying about who is going to win the show choir competition?"

"You don't understand, I need this on my resume for my college applications! What will happen to me if we can't even win Sectionals?" Rachel reached for the desk drawer again, Mr. Schue blocking her with his arm.

A tentative knock on the door distracted Rachel's attention. "Come in," Mr. Schue called.

The door swung open and two boys in Warblers uniforms hesitantly entered the room. Kurt couldn't fathom why they'd be here, in the New Directions' green room, and Mr. Schue seemed equally surprised.

"Hi ..." Mr. Schue said. "Is everything okay? How is your friend doing? Do you need something?"

The round-faced Warbler started to stammer an answer. "I ... um ... actually ..."

The other one took over. "We were hoping one of your students could help us." He turned to face the group, his gaze calmly roaming around the room to take all of them in, not settling on anyone in particular. "I'm Wes, and this is Trent. As you are surely aware, we have a fallen comrade who requires some assistance. We were hoping that there might be someone in your group—a dom—who would be willing to help him out. We understand that this is not the ideal situation, but it is rather an emergency, so we were hoping someone would be kind enough to come to his aid."

"I don't see why we should be helping the competition," Rachel said petulantly.

"Rachel!" Kurt chided her. "What part of 'medical emergency' don't you understand?"

Wes smiled at him, but said nothing.

"Well, I'm not doing it," Rachel said. Finn shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Santana stood up. "Boy is clearly an idiot for being too shy to ask a girl to dom him, but he's pretty cute, so whatever. I volunteer."

"That's not how it works, Santana," Brittany said. "They have to select a Tribute randomly first, and then other people can volunteer. I read the books. But I was confused because there was nothing in them about playing with your food."

Wes stared oddly at Brittany, but Trent spoke up. "Actually ... we were looking for another guy to do it. He's gay."

All heads swiveled to Kurt immediately. Santana dropped back into her chair with a thud.

Kurt was pretty sure his heart was no longer beating. He looked around the room slowly. "Why are you all looking at me?"

"Gay male dom?" Santana asked. "How many others do you see in this room?"

"But I ... but ... but ..." Kurt stammered. "I'm not even sure I'm a dom."

"You are," Mike said.

"Definitely," Mercedes said.

"A hundred and seventeen percent certain," Brittany said.

"No question," Finn said.

They'd all spoken nearly in unison. Kurt gaped.

"Sorry, little bro," Finn said. "Every time you tell me to, like, not leave my dirty socks in the living room or something, I pretty much want to drop to my knees. Awkward..."

"Oh my god," Kurt muttered.

"Would you consider it?" Wes asked, looking at him intently. "As I said, the situation is quite urgent."

Kurt was terrified. This was not how a dom was supposed to feel, was it? A dom was supposed to be confident, strong ... dominant. He felt the opposite of dominant right now. He felt completely incapable of doing what they were asking. The thought of walking into a room right now and having sex with a stranger ... it wasn't him. He was romance and friendship and long-term relationships and finding his soulmate. Not one-night stands. One-afternoon stands. With all of his friends knowing exactly what he was doing while he was doing it. No, this was impossible.

"I don't ... I can't ... I never ..." he stammered.

Rachel folded her arms and shot Kurt's own words back at him. "What part of 'medical emergency' don't you understand?"

"Touché." Well, at least his snark was still with him, Kurt thought.

"Please?" Trent asked, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked up at Kurt.

There was a sub who was in distress, and Kurt could fix it. Through his fear, another feeling crept up on him. He remembered watching the boy collapse on the stage, the immediate urge he'd had to run up there and take care of him, to protect him, to ... well, he hadn't let himself get as far as concrete thoughts about what he'd do. He'd pushed the feelings away because it was not his place to help. But now Trent and Wes were telling him that he could help. That he was perhaps the only person available who could help. If he said no, this boy would suffer, and Kurt would be the cause of his suffering.

Kurt couldn't let that happen. The urge to protect surged up inside him again. And, surprising himself, Kurt felt desire. The image of the boy on his knees for that split second as he fell ... to see him like that again ... right in front of Kurt ... naked ... Kurt felt his cock stirring in his pants, and oh god, everyone was still staring at him.

But sex. It was such a big, scary thing. He rarely even let himself think about it, because what was the use in making himself frustrated? There were no other out gay guys at school, and even if there were, who would want someone like Kurt to dom them? Who wanted a dom who had spent years being slushied and thrown into dumpsters? He'd always figured that in college, he could make a fresh start where nobody knew about his past and he might have a small chance of being seen as an object of desire by someone.

The thought suddenly hit Kurt—what if he'd been a sub? Who would he have gone to when his first Sickness hit? He was amazed that this problem had never occurred to him before. He was sixteen, it could have hit him at any time, and yet he'd never even thought about needing or wanting to submit to someone.

Well. Apparently he really was a dom.

He stood up. "I'm going to go talk to these guys out in the hallway for a minute. Just talking. I'm just going to talk. In the hallway."

Puck whistled salaciously. The last thing Kurt heard before the door closed was Mr. Schue yelling at him.

"Oh thank god all your friends knew that you're gay," Trent gushed. "We were so worried that we'd be outing you. We didn't want to draw attention to you, that's why we asked the whole room. We thought maybe we shouldn't say why we were there, just come in and ask if we could have a word with you in private, but everyone would know what we wanted anyway, so we figured—"

"Trent!" Wes cut him off. "Warbler Council negotiations are secret."

"Sorry, Sir," Trent said quickly.

Kurt felt hyper-focused on the situation at hand. He needed information about this boy. About what had happened to him and why. About what he might be expecting from his dom. What he would need.

"What's his name?" Kurt asked.

"Blaine Anderson," Wes said.

"And ... this is his first time?"

"It's his first Sickness, but I'm not sure whether he's ever ... just for fun ..."

"He's a virgin," Trent said. "We talked about it when I had my first Sickness a couple of months ago."

"How far gone is he?"

Wes looked very concerned. "He can't even sit up by himself. His mind is ... very confused. But he's talking. Making decisions. He's on the edge, but there's still a little bit of time."

Kurt sighed. "Why did he wait so long? Why didn't he take care of it before now? It must have been going on for days."

"Nobody knew he was gay," Trent said. "He was afraid to come out. Which, I understand how it's scary, but nobody cared, it's not a big deal for anyone, I don't know why he didn't just ... I don't know why he was still in the closet."

Blaine must be so scared right now, Kurt thought. He must feel so lost, helpless, alone. All those friends around him and none able to help, and Blaine so vulnerable, and he'd just had to come out when he didn't want to yet ... Kurt's heart ached. He had to help him. He had to.

Kurt still didn't feel ready for sex. Especially not with a stranger. He barely let his friends touch him in ordinary, non-sexual ways. How could he possibly be considering getting naked with a guy that he had never even met? Touching his body. Being touched in the most intimate ways. How could he do this?

One step at a time. Maybe just a little bit would be enough. Some orders. Some kisses. A little bit ... enough to bring Blaine back to himself. Maybe they wouldn't have to go all the way. Maybe Kurt could figure out what he was comfortable with as he went along. Maybe he wouldn't have to go past that. Was that wishful thinking? Would it inevitably lead to something more than Kurt wanted?

Kurt's entire being was crying out to help Blaine. He had to go to him. He had to. It didn't matter what Kurt wanted for himself. Blaine needed him.

"Take me to him. I want to see him."

They set off down the hallway. You matter. The words echoed in Kurt's head. That discussion he'd had with his father a few months ago, equal parts embarrassing and sweet. He'd never forget it. Don't go throwing yourself around. This could hardly be called "throwing yourself around," could it? It was one boy. One time. An emergency. His father couldn't possibly have envisioned Kurt being the only possible person to save an innocent boy from a sex emergency.

It sounded ridiculous even inside Kurt's own head.

Still, how could he say no, when his instincts were crying out to him to say yes?

You matter, Kurt. Yes. He did. But Blaine mattered too.

--------------------------------

Blaine heard the door open and close, and then a boy was standing beside him, a stranger. He was tall and confident and absolutely the most beautiful creature Blaine had ever laid eyes on. Blaine was transfixed. Even if he physically could have moved, he didn't think he would have been able to bring himself to. He never wanted to move. He wanted to just stare at this boy forever.

The stranger pulled a chair up beside the couch and sat, looking intently at Blaine. "Hi, Blaine. My name is Kurt Hummel."

"Hi," Blaine said, and his voice sounded faint and so far away. Kurt. It was the most perfect name in the universe. Blaine's favorite name, all of a sudden. He was honored to know this boy's name, it was like a gift. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, it was too special, but he would repeat it over and over in his head, every time they touched. Would they touch? Would this boy—Kurt—allow Blaine to touch him? He wanted to, so badly. He wanted Kurt to touch him. Oh god, what if Kurt ordered Blaine to say his name? Please do that, yes, yes, I want you to make me say your name, I don't know if I can do it but I will try to do it for you, please, I want to.

"Blaine," Kurt said gently. "Your friends thought that perhaps I could help you."

"Okay," Blaine said absently. Why weren't they touching? Why were they still wearing clothes? Why hadn't Kurt given him any commands to follow? Had Blaine done something wrong? Please tell me what I've done wrong, I don't know, I want to be perfect for you, I will give you everything, anything, I will do anything, I want to be good for you, Sir.

After a long pause, Kurt spoke again, still as gentle as could be. "Would you like me to help you?"

Maybe Blaine was being too submissive too soon. Maybe that was the problem. Kurt might want him to push back a little bit, so that he'd have to give an order and be obeyed. But how could he possibly fight? He wanted Kurt more than anything in the world. What could he do to push him? A joke? A little bit of sassiness? Blaine said out loud the first thing that came to mind. "It's not like I have much choice."

Kurt looked at him so sweetly, an impossible amount of sweetness. How could a dom possibly be this gentle, Blaine wondered. "Blaine, you always have choices. You could have your friends look around for another dom. You could pay a professional to dominate you. You could wait until you pass out and end up in the hospital. The options may suck, but they exist. I am not taking those choices away, I am offering another one. You can choose me, if you want to, if you think I'm the best option you have. If not, you can choose something else. It's up to you."

Realization dawned on Blaine. Kurt wasn't domming him yet because Blaine hadn't asked him to. A dom couldn't ask a sub for sex, it was unthinkable outside of an established claim relationship. Blaine needed to ask.

"Will you dom me? Please?" Blaine's voice wavered, he wanted it so much. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if Kurt said no.

"Yes, sweetheart, of course I will." Kurt sounded so confident and sure. Blaine trusted him implicitly, this boy he didn't even know. Blaine smiled, closed his eyes for a second, relaxed onto the pillows behind him.

Kurt bent down and kissed him on the mouth, hard. Blaine had never felt anything more wonderful. He let Kurt work his mouth open, shivered with relief when Kurt pressed his tongue inside, owning, taking.

Kurt pulled away and stood up, pushing the chair back away from the couch. Blaine wanted to cry from his absence. "Okay, everybody out of the room," Kurt ordered.

Blaine didn't know why Kurt wanted him to leave the room, but it didn't matter. Surely it was for some very good reason. Maybe there was a bedroom, or ... it didn't matter. He didn't need to know. Kurt had given an order, and he was going to obey it, there was nothing that could prevent him from obeying it. Blaine wasn't quite sure if he could move, but he would leave this room at Kurt's order if it killed him. He tried to sit up.

Kurt laughed, musical and joyful and almost carefree. "Not you, Blaine, sweetheart. You stay right there."

Oh. Right. There were other people in the room. Blaine had been so focused on Kurt that he'd completely forgotten the rest of the Warblers were still there. He settled happily back on the couch.

"We'll be waiting right outside, Blaine," a voice called out. He recognized that voice. It was ... um ... Trent. "Just yell if anything goes wrong, we'll be right here to come help you."

The door clicked shut, and then Kurt was standing over him again.

"Take your clothes off."