Author's Notes: 2:56 p.m.

Blaine had made two full circuits of the classroom, looking over the groups of sophomores outlining their American Revolution projects, offering helpful hints, not at all rushing, and yet the hands of the clock seemed not to have moved even a fraction of an inch from the last time he’d looked. They were no closer to 3:14 than they’d been before he started his rounds.

It was probably a little unseemly, he thought as he wandered back to his desk and sat down in the hard wooden chair, that the teacher was even more anxious for school to end than his students. But with just eighteen minutes to go – no, seventeen, the minute hand finally jerked its way over one line - until his first full weekend with Kurt he was going to cut himself a little slack.

It had certainly been one of the strangest weeks of his life and nothing like what he’d expected when Kurt had ordered him to take off his cuff in Figgins’ office on Monday. Yes, he’d had to face shocked whispers and sidelong looks, but he’d also made a firm ally in Emma, endured the kind of teasing that meant Cooper wasn’t really freaked out at all, and somehow managed to start communicating with his parents, which was a ship he’d thought had sailed a long time ago.

It was different for Kurt. While most of the adults were unexpectedly accepting of their situation, Kurt’s friends couldn’t quite seem to wrap their brains around one of their own dating a teacher. With only a few exceptions they were awkward and subdued around Kurt, and Blaine knew Rachel hadn’t spoken more than casual in-passing words to him since Monday. She was uncharacteristically quiet in Blaine’s class too, taking notes, never raising her hand and only looking at Blaine if it couldn’t be avoided.

But while Kurt still had issues to work out, Blaine often wondered what the hell he’d been so afraid of. Any unpleasantness created by unsupportive co-workers was completely offset by the - Kurtness was the only way to say it - of his life now. The morning make-outs over coffee, the brief moments of perfect connection when they’d glimpse each other across a crowded hallway, the teasing gropes behind his office door and late-night whispered phone conversations - they all combined to keep Blaine buzzing with arousal and anticipation that, far from being a distraction, seemed to make everything sharper and clearer. Colors were brighter and he felt full of energy and focus. The need he felt in his body translated into a sense of belonging - to Kurt, to himself, to the idea of what they were together. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Blaine felt complete.

Which isn’t to say that he wasn’t desperately horny. His body was so intensely responsive to Kurt that the minute his office door closed behind them at lunch or after school he was hard, straining against the restraint of his fly and aching to touch and be touched. He could tell that Kurt loved having the power to reduce the composed history teacher to a moaning puddle of submissive goo just by turning the lock. And the dom/sub feedback loop between them meant that the more turned on Kurt got the more desperate Blaine became. It was so automatic that Blaine was pretty sure he could get hard if he just sat and stared at his office door long enough.

Which was not the thought he should be having when Trudy Vashro was coming up to ask him a question.

Blaine clarified the steps of the assignment for Trudy then glanced at the clock again.

3:01.

Maybe it was broken. Blaine pulled his cell phone out of his pocket but it, too, showed him 3:01. He sighed and shoved it back. Of course time would be crawling the one time he wanted it to fly.

Time was usually the only thing Blaine felt like he was lacking. Time to wrap himself up in Kurt, to explore him and discover exactly how to touch and kiss and move to make Kurt gasp those tiny, oh so hot sounds he made in the back of his throat. Time to make Kurt come, over and over, harder than any dom had ever been made to come before. Kurt’s orgasm seemed so fundamentally necessary to Blaine that he could and did spend hours at home at night fantasizing about ways to do it - with his mouth, his hands, other body parts - and trying to figure out some way to get Kurt to let him do it at school. Not being allowed to come all week was nothing, for Blaine, compared to not being able to make Kurt come.

But today was finally, finally Friday. Kurt had glee club, then there was family dinner - out at a restaurant because wonderful Carole had decided they should celebrate Blaine’s first dinner with something special (and he was certain she wasn’t unaware of the fact that you couldn’t linger in a restaurant the way you could at home) - and then he had two whole nights and days of Kurt all to himself. Just the thought left Blaine breathless; it felt almost obscene. Forty-eight hours to indulge themselves in talking and touching and kissing and sex and, even more importantly, second only to getting to make Kurt come on Blaine’s priority list, two full nights of Kurt in his bed, warm and naked and casually dominant in that moment-to-moment way that Blaine was pretty sure Kurt wasn’t even aware of being. He’d tried very hard not to have expectations, because Kurt was in charge and he knew he needed to be okay with whatever Kurt wanted, but he’d definitely been indulging in fantasies of being kept naked all weekend, serving Kurt’s every desire, kneeling patiently at his feet while his own body ached. He desperately wanted to find that place where the only thing he had to think about was Kurt.

3:07.

Seven more minutes. Blaine knew he should be paying better attention to what was going on in the classroom, but the students were all engrossed in the work he’d given them and it was their first weekend, so he let himself drift a little in the soft bubble of anticipation that was starting to form around him. Kurt was going to be performing in glee club again today and he’d asked Blaine to come and watch. The idea of having to sit there and simply watch Kurt as he talked and laughed and sang, unable to touch him, with the promise of their weekend so tantalizingly close was going to be delicious hell. He wondered if Kurt would find silent ways to tease him like he’d done in Blaine’s history class. His stomach tightened at the thought.

3:10

Close enough. “Okay, great work today, everybody, you can start to put your things away. Don’t forget that I expect your detailed outlines on Monday.” He stood up and started stuffing his own things into his bag.

“That is so unfair! Why do teachers hate weekends?” he heard someone mutter over the general din of students minutes from liberty.

“Because they envy our youth and freedom and need to squash it out of us,” came a reply.

“Please. It’s one outline,” someone else said. “If that ruins your weekend then your weekend was pretty lame to begin with.”

“I have plans! Did you know there’s going to be . . .”

But Blaine didn’t hear what there was going to be because at that moment the blessed bell finally rang and the teenage stampede barreled for the door. It was all he could do not to shove them all aside and be the first one out.

The choir room, of course, was completely empty when he arrived and Blaine couldn’t help laughing at his own eager rush. Clearly not everyone was a denied and frustrated sub eager for a glimpse of his dom. Normal people probably had things to do - locker visits, bathroom breaks, making plans with friends - before they were ready to settle into their after school activities. It was probably a very good thing that it was Friday, he thought as he wandered into the room. He didn’t need to be any more pathetic than he already was.

The choir room was big and bright and Blaine could imagine Kurt there, totally at home among the scattered instruments, shining trophies, and shelves full of sheet music and pictures and bits of costumes and props. It was a room full of possibilities. A room where things were created and anything was possible if you could name it and give it shape. Kurt belonged in a place like this. He’d once told Blaine that glee club was sometimes the only thing that had kept him sane, and standing there in the room Blaine could understand that. The only definitions were ones you created yourself.

The seats were arranged in rows on risers and Blaine stared at them, wondering which place Kurt usually took. Sitting down front would put him at the center of attention, ready to jump up when it was his turn to perform. But from the back he could really make an entrance, sweeping dramatically down the steps at his own pace and drawing out the anticipation as long as he could. Blaine smiled. He knew exactly what his Kurt would choose. He headed up the steps toward a chair in the very back corner.

“Blaine?”

Blaine started at the unexpected voice and turned. Will Schuester was standing in the doorway, his face pulled into a frown. He looked distinctly unhappy and Blaine felt a little guilty, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Which was ridiculous. Kurt had asked him to come, it was just a rehearsal, and Will was just a fellow teacher and sub. There shouldn’t be any power dynamic between them.

“Can I help you with something?”

So why did it feel very much like there was? So much so that Blaine took an involuntary step forward before he stopped himself. “Kurt asked me to meet him here. He wants me to see him sing.” He smiled in what he hoped was a conspiratorial way - after all they were both subs subject to the whims of their doms - and turned to continue up the steps.

“Actually,” Will’s voice behind him seemed louder than it needed to be in the empty room, “I’m not okay with that.”

Blaine took a second to control the surprise he was sure would show on his face before he turned back to Will. “You’re not okay with me watching? Because Kurt said -”

“Kurt should have checked with me before he asked you.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable idea, but in Blaine’s current state the thought that Kurt should have to ask permission - from a sub, no less - for anything to do with them sent something sharp and hot spiking through Blaine’s belly and he had to concentrate to keep his hands from clenching into fists before he could speak again. “Kurt said you have visitors all the time.”

“Visitors I approve.” Clearly confident that settled the matter, Will turned his back on Blaine and began to take materials out of his bag and arrange them on top of the piano.

“And you don’t approve of me?”

Will continued to arrange sheets of music, not even bothering to look up at Blaine. “It’s not a matter of approving of you,” he said casually. “We have regionals in two weeks. The kids need to focus without distractions.”

“I’m just going to sit in the back and watch.” Blaine tried to keep his tone as light as Will’s. “No distraction at all, I promise. I’ll even leave as soon as Kurt’s done.”

Will finally turned back to him. “This shouldn’t be a big deal, Blaine. I can’t let you stay today. I’ve asked you to leave and I’d appreciate if you did it before the kids get here.”

Blaine wasn’t sure if Will was being deliberately obtuse or if maybe his relationship with Emma didn’t include her giving him commands, but on some level he had to understand that there was no way Blaine could disobey Kurt to comply with another sub. “I can’t. Kurt told me to meet him here.”

Two students sauntered through the door - Noah Puckerman and a blonde girl in a Cheerio uniform with a jaunty, bouncing ponytail. “Hey Mr. A!” Noah grinned at Blaine as they passed on their way to the back of the room.

The girl was chatting away to Noah so Blaine moved closer to Will and spoke quietly. “You know I can’t just leave. We have to wait for Kurt.” He searched Will’s face for some kind of understanding. Will had to know what a command from a soulmate meant, even if he and Emma weren’t officially bonded.

Will glanced quickly at the two kids sitting with their heads together at the back of the room then turned his attention back to Blaine. “You don’t even understand how wrong that statement is, do you?”

Whatever Will saw in Blaine’s face obviously wasn’t what he wanted to see because he gave an exaggerated sigh and grabbed Blaine’s upper arm to pull him closer to the wall and further from the students. “We’re both teachers at this school, Blaine. This is my classroom. I’m in charge here. But you’re telling me that I can’t ask you to leave my classroom without getting permission from a student first.”

“It’s not about permission -”

“So now a child is in control of my class because he happens to be your dom.” Will’s stare was intense and Blaine realized that he was angry. Really angry. “And what else will Kurt end up in charge of because of this? Do you not see how many ways this could go wrong? What you do in your bedroom is your business, I guess -” Blaine felt himself blush hot at that, “- and Emma’s right, I’m not Kurt’s father so it’s not up to me to decide what’s appropriate for him outside these walls, but here at school we’re the adults. We’re the teachers. I absolutely get to decide what’s appropriate in this room, and Kurt doesn’t get any more of a vote than any other student.”

Another student wandered in, Finn, Blaine remembered. He stopped abruptly when he saw Blaine was there, with a deer in headlights look that would have been comical in almost any other situation. Blaine tried to smile at him but Finn turned and hurried to the back of the room and the safety of his teammates so Blaine turned back to Will.

“So this doesn’t have anything to do with regionals, does it?” he asked. “You just don’t think Kurt and I are appropriate.”

“We’re trying to get these kids to be mature. Responsible. To teach them that there’s more to life than . . . soulmates and hormones.” Will jerked his head in the direction of the three students. “Did you know Noah Puckerman is a father? He and Quinn Fabray had a baby last year. Sixteen years old.”

Blaine couldn’t help looking at Noah then, and the other kids. Finn must have said something because all three of them were looking at him and Will huddled by the white board whispering to each other. He could feel the pressure of their awareness like something physical bearing down on him. He felt trapped there by the students’ attention and Will’s sincerity.

Because Will was most definitely sincere. Blaine may not have liked what he was saying but there was no denying his genuine concern for his students.

“These kids have so much pressure to be sexual, and they never think about the consequences,” Will said. “And if I let you sit here with Kurt’s cuff on your wrist, that’s as good as telling them that I think it’s perfectly fine for a sixteen-year-old to bond himself to his teacher. They’re already putting their hormones ahead of everything else. Most of the time I feel like I’m fighting the current as hard as I can just to stay in the same place. I may not be able to do anything about your choices, but I won’t support them.”

“He’s my soulmate, Will. I waited . . .” Will wasn’t his friend, much less his confidante, but Blaine felt an overwhelming need to explain, to justify the happiness he’d been feeling just five minutes ago at the thought of his time alone with Kurt.

“And you couldn’t have waited - what? Another year and a couple of months? Until he graduated? What kind of normal high school experience can Kurt have now? Is he going to be spending his weekends at the mall with all his friends, or holed up in your apartment? You’ve pushed him into this adult world that he’s not ready for, Blaine. And he shouldn’t have to be.”

“This is what he wanted . . .”

“Yeah, well, he may be the dom, but you’re the adult. You could have acted like one.”

And the worst thing was that Will was right. They could have waited. They both chose not to, and they had good reasons for that. Blaine didn’t regret them but he knew exactly what Kurt was giving up by being with him and it hurt to have Will put it out there so baldly. He couldn’t even bring himself to argue any more. Even if he managed to convince Will, there would always be more Wills lined up behind him ready to pass judgment. And no amount of wishing for compassion and understanding was going to change that fact.

“I’ve asked you to leave,” Will said, his attention back on his class materials. “You can wait for Kurt outside.”

Blaine bowed his head a little and was just opening his mouth to acquiesce when Kurt finally came through the door with yet another blonde cheerleader. He wasn’t talking to her, though. His eyes were dark and his lips tight, and Blaine wondered if it was possible that he’d heard any of his and Will’s conversation. He certainly didn’t look like the same boy who’d been so excited about singing for him earlier that day. He stopped next to the piano. “What’s going on?” he asked in a voice loud enough that the other students dropped any pretense of not listening. The cheerleader drifted away to a seat as Will once again looked up from his materials.

“Kurt, you need to clear it with me before you invite someone to observe rehearsals.”

Kurt ignored him. “What’s going on, Blaine?”

More students drifted in behind Kurt and Blaine was suddenly painfully aware that a few of them were his students and the last thing he wanted was for any of them to witness a pissing contest between Kurt and Will to see who got to tell him what to do.

“Umm,” he hedged, “Will asked me -”

“Mr. Schuester,” Will corrected sharply without taking his eyes off Kurt.

“Mr. Schuester,” he said, “asked me not to watch class today.” Kurt’s expression betrayed no surprise. “And I’ve got papers I can grade, so why don’t I just meet you after?”

He stared at Kurt and let his eyes drift very slightly in the direction of the students lined up on the risers. Not in front of everyone, he tried to signal. Please.

But Kurt wasn’t in a receptive mood, apparently. He took a deep breath and turned his attention to Will. “You’re right. I should have asked. I’d like for Blaine to stay so he can watch me sing.” Kurt’s voice was light, but Blaine noticed he wasn’t actually asking a question.

“And I’ve already told Mr. Anderson that I don’t think the glee club needs that kind of distraction right now. So I’m sorry, but I have to say no.”

Kurt pressed his lips together in the way that Blaine already knew meant he was struggling with his self-control. “It’s okay, Kurt,” he placated, “I can watch another time, when it’s not so crazy.”

Blaine held his breath as Kurt looked from him to Will for a long moment. The choir room had gone completely silent and more than anything now Blaine just wanted out.

Then Kurt’s bag hit the floor with a thud, right there in front of the white board. “Follow me,” he commanded then turned around and strode for the door without looking back.

Blaine followed, cheeks burning, and Will called out a “Kurt, you’re performing today” but Kurt ignored him and kept walking.

The halls were mostly deserted, thank God, and Blaine lengthened his stride to get as close to Kurt as he could and still be considered to be following. He knew he should just obey, follow, as Kurt had said, but it was their weekend. Not twenty minutes ago he’d been happy, so fucking grateful for his forty-eight hours of uninterrupted Kurt time and he wanted that back, damn it, that sense of well-being, so close to being able to let go and lose himself in his lover.

“Kurt, please, I don’t think this is really a big deal.” He was already panting a little; his shorter legs had to work harder to keep up with Kurt’s long strides. Kurt didn’t look back, just kept walking fast down the empty hallway.

Blaine pushed closer and risked a look around Kurt’s shoulder to try to get his attention. “We knew this could happen,” he reasoned. “We may not like it, but Mr. Schuester has the right -”

At “Mr. Schuester” Kurt stopped so abruptly that Blaine stumbled into him and would have fallen but for Kurt’s sudden hard grip on his upper arms. His blue eyes flashed dark and dangerous and in one swift move he had Blaine pinned against the lockers closest to them. He was breathing hard too, but Blaine didn’t think it was from walking fast. He didn’t understand what was driving Kurt, or why those eyes were searching his so intensely. Instinctively, he pressed his hands to the lockers above his head in a gesture of surrender and, when Kurt still didn’t move, lowered his eyes to the floor.

As if his submissive posture was a signal, Kurt pounced, diving down to press his mouth hard against Blaine’s, sucking fiercely at his lips. He was angry, Blaine finally realized with a jolt. More than angry, Kurt was furious, furious with him, and he had no idea why. Because he’d spoken when he was supposed to be following? But Kurt hadn’t told him not to speak. Because he’d volunteered to leave the rehearsal?

Kurt’s breath was harsh against Blaine’s cheek and his mouth was relentless, nipping and biting at Blaine’s lips. His hand slid up the side of Blaine’s face and gripped his hair until all Blaine could do was whimper against the pain. He was starting to feel trapped and although this was Kurt at his most dominant, it all felt wrong. There was nothing sensual about it. No sense of them. Blaine held his arms still against the urge to push Kurt away, but he sucked in a deep lungful of air and pushed his chest out as far as he could to try to create some space between them.

An extra-sharp bite at his lower lip had Blaine crying out and he finally twisted his head away from the onslaught. Kurt’s hand in his hair tightened, pulling his head back hard against the lockers and exposing the column of his throat to Kurt’s still-punishing lips.

“Wait, Kurt, stop, please.”

But Kurt ignored him, latching onto the tender flesh of his neck with such force that Blaine was sure he could feel the capillaries bursting under his skin. He was gasping for air, crushed against the wall by Kurt’s larger body, and his hands finally moved to grip Kurt’s shoulders, digging into the muscles there to try and bring Kurt back to his senses.

“Stop, Kurt. Caesura. Just - stop. Caesura.”

Kurt’s body disappeared so abruptly that Blaine slipped down the wall and landed on his ass on the floor. He could hear Kurt’s breathing, as harsh and ragged as his own, and he gave himself a few breaths before he forced his eyes open to face what had happened.

Kurt was on the floor as well, all the way across the hall with his back against the opposite bank of lockers. He had his knees drawn up and his face buried in his arms folded on top of them. He was shaking; Blaine thought maybe he was crying. Blaine wanted to cry too. What had happened to the perfect start to their perfect weekend? How could he ever get back to that beautiful place he’d been in half an hour ago?

“Kurt?”

Kurt raised his head when Blaine spoke and he wasn’t crying after all, but he looked like he wanted to be. He didn’t look at Blaine - his eyes darted around like he was looking for something before coming to rest on the floor somewhere in between them.

“What am I doing? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have -”

“Don’t say that.” Blaine pushed himself onto his knees and scooted forward toward Kurt. He just wanted Kurt to look at him. But Kurt kept his eyes down no matter how Blaine tried to put himself in their line of sight. “Come on, Kurt. Please look at me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kurt finally raised his eyes to Blaine, and they were dark with pain now, instead of anger. “You had to safeword!”

“We talked about this. Safewording doesn’t mean anybody fucked up. Just changing tempo, remember?”

Kurt shook his head. “I was hurting you. I was hurting you and you were telling me to stop and I didn’t listen. I was out of control. I can’t do this.”

Blaine pushed himself closer and reached out to take Kurt’s hands in his. They were stiff and tense and he ran his thumbs over Kurt’s knuckles, trying to soothe him. “You weren’t out of control.”

“You said no and I didn’t stop!”

“That’s why we have a safeword. Because ninety-nine times out of a hundred when I say no what I really mean is yes. And I need to be able to say no and know that I don’t have to worry about you actually listening to me. This was just the one time that I really did need you to stop.”

“Because I was attacking you, Blaine.”

Blaine shook his head. “You weren’t. You were just being dominant. Expressing your feelings in the way that you needed to . . .”

“Then why did you safeword?”

Blaine took a deep breath. He didn’t want to hurt Kurt but he knew he had to be honest. “Because it felt like you were punishing me and I didn’t know why.”

And for some crazy reason it was the right thing to say, because Kurt finally unbent - his eyes filled with tears that seemed to dissolve the pain leaving only love and compassion, and he pulled his hands from Blaine’s and shoved himself close enough to wrap them around Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine hugged back for all he was worth.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Kurt whispered against the side of Blaine’s neck. “I was just so mad at him and then I had you up against the wall – I’m so, so sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine wanted to say something to reassure Kurt that it was okay, but he was in Kurt’s arms and Kurt’s hand was stroking in his hair and despite all the insanity of the afternoon he was already starting to feel a little fuzzy and loose around the edges.

Kurt was still murmuring in his ear, “It’s just really hard sometimes, you know? But you did the right thing.”

“So did you. You stopped right away.” Blaine let himself relax against Kurt’s chest.

“It’s not going to happen again. I promise. I’m going to take care of this.”

Blaine hummed a little and marveled at how quickly just being held by Kurt could turn things around. That soft voice and those long, stroking fingers were all it took to remind Blaine of why they were both making sacrifices to be together. Whatever the cost, it was worth it. But he didn’t say any of this to Kurt, because he knew the very best thing he could do for his dom right now was to let his dom take care of him.

Fate, Blaine thought as his warm bubble of happiness took shape around him once again, really knew what it was doing with this soulmate thing.

********************

Kurt was not happy.

But his unhappiness could wait. Blaine was what was important right now. Kurt stroked his back and whispered reassurances in his ear and marveled as he felt Blaine’s body relax against his, the flutter of his breath on Kurt’s neck slowing and evening out. The fact that Blaine would so easily put himself in Kurt’s hands right after . . . no, he’d think about that later. He had to take care of Blaine.

He slowed his own breathing, consciously matching it to Blaine’s. He would have given anything to be able to stay like that, right there on the floor, just holding each other and breathing in the warm scent of Blaine’s skin, but he knew at any moment someone could come around a corner and stumble on them. They’d been lucky the hallway had been deserted this long. He pulled back a little and Blaine lifted his head from Kurt’s shoulder and smiled at him. There wasn’t a trace of anxiety left in his expression and Kurt was once again amazed at the fact that just being held could fix so much for Blaine. He didn’t think it would be as easy for himself.

“We should probably take this back to your office,” Kurt said.

Blaine’s smile widened; it was clean and real and he even chuckled a little. “I suppose Principal Figgins would consider this an ‘overt display,’ wouldn’t he?”

Kurt smiled back and he tried to make it as genuine as Blaine’s but he apparently didn’t succeed because Blaine cupped his cheek and the tiniest shadow darkened his face. “Hey. I’m fine. We’re fine.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to the corner of Kurt’s mouth, warm and gentle, and Kurt abandoned himself to it, forgetting everything else, if only for a moment, as he turned into the kiss let Blaine show him just how fine they were.

But they were also still on the floor of a school hallway so all too soon Kurt moved back and stood up, pulling Blaine along with him. “We’d better go before this display gets any more overt,” he said, and this time he could see by Blaine’s expression that his smile actually reached his eyes.

They walked side-by-side this time, still holding hands. Kurt didn’t know if Principal Figgins would object to hand holding, but he didn’t really care. He didn’t speak again and Blaine didn’t push him.

Kurt hadn’t understood until now, until he’d walked in on Blaine and Mr. Schuester arguing about what was best for him, for them, the impossibility of what he was trying to do. He understood now what Quinn had been trying to tell him about living in two worlds. Tradition and even law gave him authority over Blaine, authority that was meant to be used, with Blaine’s consent, to protect him and make him feel safe and cared for. And his own instincts demanded that he exercise that authority. But how was he supposed to do that when, as a student, he had no real control over the people Blaine should be protected from?

The only thing he knew for sure was that he was never again going to take his frustration out on Blaine the way he had just now. He should have screamed at Mr. Schuester like he’d wanted to. Better to end up punished in some way, suspended, even expelled, than to force his sub to safeword in a public hallway at school. No. That wasn’t happening again

“Did you work anything out?” Blaine said when their silent walk ended and he pushed his office door open. Kurt gestured him inside but didn’t cross the threshold himself

“Wait here while I -” Kurt stopped himself mid-command. “I mean, I think you should wait -”

“Hey!” Blaine grabbed his hand and squeezed tight. “You can still give me orders. I like it, remember?”

Kurt shook his head. He knew the rules. “You safeworded.”

“Which stops what we’re doing. It doesn’t change who we are. Don’t second-guess yourself Kurt. Not with me, okay?”

Kurt smiled again at that. “Okay. You wait here. I have to go talk to Mr. Schue. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Blaine gave Kurt a little salute and backed up just enough to drop to his knees next to the guest chair, hands on his thighs, eyes lowered as if he was settling in for the duration.

“What are you doing?” Kurt asked.

“Waiting for you to come back.”

“But I didn’t tell you to -”

“I like it.” Blaine glanced up just long enough for Kurt to see how sincere he was, then lowered his eyes again. “It makes me happy. Unless you don’t want me to?”

And as confused as Kurt was about what had just happened and what it meant for them, he had to admit that there really wasn’t anything more beautiful than Blaine on his knees. He took two steps into the room and rested his hand gently on the top of Blaine’s head, stroking through the curls. Blaine didn’t move but breathed a gentle humming sigh as Kurt touched him.

“Thank you,” Kurt said simply, and Blaine just hummed again.

Kurt had planned to indulge in a little bit of a self-pitying tantrum once the office door closed behind him - the way the afternoon had been going he figured he deserved a few tears, maybe a foot to the bank of lockers (he knew from painful experience what a satisfying sound the reverberating metal made when something slammed into it hard enough) - but now, with the image of Blaine kneeling on the floor filling his head, he knew he had to be better than that. Yes, he wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all - that he was expected to do such an adult job in a place where everyone looked at him as a child - but the idea that this man, this very grown-up man, was kneeling in his office trusting Kurt, putting himself unhesitatingly in the hands of a teenage boy with no real authority in the world, that thought brought tears to Kurt’s eyes for a very different reason than the one he’d anticipated. Blaine’s faith in him was overwhelming and, as inadequate as Kurt might feel, he must deserve that faith because Fate had picked him for Blaine.

So no pity party. Kurt knew what he had to do.

He could hear Mercedes singing before he even turned the last corner and he hovered out of site to listen. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew what the room looked like. Rachel was smiling, of course, she always enjoyed her friends’ performances, unless they were in direct competition with her. Santana was trying and probably failing to look unimpressed. Most of the rest of them would be bouncing in their seats, smiling, laughing, popping in on backup at all the right moments. Rory would be watching someone, probably Finn or Sam, instead of Mercedes, always looking for cues to make sure he didn’t mess up somehow. And Mr. Schuester would be smiling over it all like their benevolent Godfather. He almost hated to have to intrude.

But when Mercedes’ power-note finale trailed off and the sound of laughter and applause and congratulations filled the room, Kurt slipped through the door. The room quieted almost immediately. Most of the club had witnessed the little power struggle earlier and Kurt knew his presence put everyone on edge wondering what the fallout would be.

“Kurt, I’m glad you decided to come back.” Mr. Schuester smiled warmly and Kurt knew that he meant it. Mr. Schuester always seemed to assume that, given enough time to consider, everyone would eventually come around to his way of thinking. “I’m afraid I gave your solo spot to Mercedes, but you’re just in time for the group number Rachel wanted to try.”

Kurt’s eyes flickered reflexively toward his best friend when Mr. Schue said her name, but Rachel was very intently searching for something in her bag and didn’t look up. He looked back at Mr. Schue. “Actually, I need to talk to you. Can we go out in hall?”

He could hear someone whispering, but he kept his gaze focused on his teacher. Mr. Schuester considered him carefully and Kurt could see he was starting to suspect that maybe Kurt hadn’t quite come around after all. “I’m sorry, Kurt,” he said, “but we’re rehearsing. I can’t leave now.”

Kurt’s heart began to beat faster and his hands tried to curl into fists but he forced them to relax. Mr. Schuester might be a teacher but he was also a sub and for both those reasons Kurt couldn’t afford to lose control. “We can go outside or we can talk here, but either way we’re going to talk. Rachel can lead the rehearsal.”

The room was so quiet that Kurt was pretty sure he could hear the ancient watch Finn always wore - the one that had belonged to his father - ticking in the silence. Mr. Schuester just looked at him, one eyebrow raised. But when Kurt didn’t back down he turned just long enough to say, “Rachel, go ahead,” then walked out of the room without looking back.

Kurt followed him, stopping just outside the door and standing still, waiting for the rehearsal to pick up again. He didn’t speak until he heard Rachel giving instructions in her most imperious voice. Then he took a deep breath and looked Mr. Schuester right in the eye, conjuring up the image of Blaine waiting on his knees in the hope that it would make him feel more like a dom and less like a kid.

“I need to ask you not to speak to my submissive again.”

It sounded small and not at all authoritative to Kurt’s ears, but Mr. Schuester’s mouth dropped and for a moment he just gaped at Kurt.

“Excuse me?” was all Will managed to say.

“You upset Blaine. Things are hard enough for him. I won’t let anyone attack him like that. So if you have anything you need to say about us, you come to me. I don’t want you talking to him any more.”

Mr. Schuester took a step closer, still looking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I can’t agree to that Kurt. You’re a student. Mr. Anderson is my colleague.”

“He’s also my claimed submissive. Which means I have the right to decide who speaks to him. With his consent. Which I have.”

At that Mr. Schuester ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “This is why this whole situation is so unacceptable, Kurt. You’re trying to do an adult’s job but you’re not an adult. You’re not ready for this and it’s only going to get harder. You have to be realistic about what you can and can’t control while you’re a student here. I’m trying to help you.”

Kurt laughed, a harsh sound that hurt his throat. “Oh, that’s great. No one wanted to help me when it was jocks shoving me into lockers, but now that it’s my soulmate, sure, feel free to try to fix my life for me.”

Will froze at that, shocked, probably, that Kurt had abandoned their careful don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy where the bullying was concerned. When he spoke again his voice was calmer. “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk about this, Kurt. But there are things that as a teacher I can’t condone. If I have a problem with Mr. Anderson I will speak to Mr. Anderson. I’m not going to discuss those issues with you. You’re my student.” He said it firmly, almost patronizingly, like anyone with half a brain should have been able to understand.

“Not any more I’m not,” Kurt said, just as firmly.

There were several gasps from the other side of the door and he realized, too late, that Rachel’s voice in the choir room had never materialized into actual singing. Now faces began to pop around the doorjamb, faces with shocked eyes and gaping mouths.

“You don’t mean that Kurt.” Mr. Schuester’s voice was as calm as Kurt’s.

“Kurt you can’t!” Rachel’s voice addressing him was almost a shock after their week of silence. “Regionals . . .”

Of course it was the competition she was worried about. “You can get Jacob to fill in like he almost did last year.”

A touch on his arm brought Kurt’s attention back to Mr. Schuester. “This is exactly what I’m talking about Kurt. You’re giving up glee club? Because I won’t do what you want?”

Kurt just shook his head. “You really don’t understand, do you? I knew I was going to quit before I came and talked to you.” He looked around, at the friends who’d been so distant, and the teacher whose lack of support was the last straw. He felt so calm. He wondered if that was a bad sign. If he was going to break down in hysterics in the middle of dinner or something.

“Kurt, come on. You’re just upset.” Finn said.

“I’m really not, Finn.” Kurt took a few steps toward the door so he could see into the room. “This used to be the only place in this school where I could be myself. But that’s not true any more. So there’s really nothing for me here.” He turned back to Mr. Schuester. “I quit.”

********************

Burt Hummel had a secret. A deep, dark, terrible secret that, if it ever came to light, would shock friends and family and destroy his carefully-maintained image as a completely typical male product of corn-fed mid-western America.

He absolutely hated Breadstix.

It was Kurt’s fault. After years of souffl�s and gratin�es and homemade baguettes with crusty exteriors hiding insides of steaming soft perfection, there was no way he could ever enjoy the limp bread sticks and the pasta cooked well past al dente offered by Lima’s favorite restaurant. But it was a secret he would take to his grave. It was his job to complain about the complexity of Kurt’s fancy food, it was part of what kept the balance when he started to feel, more and more frequently as Kurt got older, that his son had the jump on him about more than food. And besides, he could only imagine the looks on the faces of the guys in the shop if they suspected that he knew how to use al dente in a sentence.

But in the privacy of his own head the fact was inescapable. His son had ruined him for normal food.

So it was ironic that it was because of Kurt he was standing here in front of the restaurant he hated waiting for the rest of his family to arrive. Well, because Carole insisted that they had to make such a big deal about Kurt’s soulmate. Blaine deserved something special, she’d said, for his first family dinner. Of course, Burt was perfectly aware that she’d suspected he would try to drag dinner out at home in order to keep Kurt there as long as possible. And he would have. Because claimed dom or not, Kurt was still his little boy and it still felt like Burt’s job to protect him from difficulty and danger and moving too quickly into grown-up responsibilities - and activities.

And yet here he was. Jingling change in the pocket of his too-light jacket (and didn’t he just know that Kurt would have something to say about him not being dressed right for the weather) as he waited impatiently for the rest of his family. He was here because Carole kept telling him that trying to protect Kurt now was like locking the barn door after all the horses had escaped and the best thing they could do was show Kurt he had their full support and understanding. And experience had taught him that Carole was usually right about these things.

“Hey sailor, come here often?” A hand slipped through the crook of his arm and a head leaned into the support of his shoulder.

“Only for you,” he said, rubbing his jaw gently against Carole’s hair as he took a moment just to appreciate her presence. “Are the kids here yet?”

She lifted her head and scanned the parking lot. “I thought Kurt and Blaine were right behind me when I pulled in.”

They appeared then, as if on cue, weaving between parked cars. They kept a careful distance between them as they walked, both with hands in pockets, and Burt could see tension in their faces as they got closer. Well that was a surprise. They were less than a week into their claim; they should definitely still be giddy and mooning so obnoxiously that everyone around them wanted to upchuck. He was just opening his mouth to call out to them, maybe tease them about being so serious, try to put them at ease with the kind of little joke that usually worked on Kurt, when they came around the front of an old Volkswagon and turned to face the restaurant head-on.

What the hell? Burt felt his jaw drop but before he could recover from his shock enough to make his mouth form the words in his head Carole’s elbow dug into his ribs and pulled his attention her way just long enough for her to give him a quelling glare and a tiny shake of her head. Then she extracted her arm from his and walked out to meet them with a cheery “There you are!”

“We’re not late are we? Have you been waiting?” Kurt asked as Carole hugged first him, then Blaine, and slid one arm though each of theirs to lead them back to where Burt was standing.

“Oh, God, no. I just got here.” She gave Blaine a dazzling smile. “It’s so good to see you again, Blaine.”

Burt probably would have grumbled something about laying it on pretty thick, if he wasn’t still completely paralyzed by the sight of the violent purple bruise screaming like a neon sign from Blaine’s neck.

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Hudson, Mr. Hummel.” Blaine turned a little more in Burt’s direction when he spoke to him and Burt knew he really needed to drag his eyes away from the hickey but the thing seemed to have some kind of magic hold on him. He couldn’t stop staring at it. There was a part of him, he had to admit it, that was impressed that Kurt had marked Blaine so spectacularly that he was pretty sure his blind Aunt Muriel could have described the colors in it in exacting detail. The rest of him, though, was stuck on the thought that his son, his Kurt, had that in him.

“Oh, now, none of that, it’s Carole and Burt.” The stress on the “Burt” was enough to finally break the spell of the mark on Blaine’s neck and Burt managed to bring his attention back to his wife, who was openly glaring at him now, and the two boys, who were both staring at the ground, cheeks flushed almost as bright as the hickey.

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you,” Blaine mumbled without looking up.

A bunch of boisterous teenagers appeared out of the parking lot and several of them eyed the awkward little group as they passed. Their attention must have spurred Carole into action because she took Burt’s arm again - and he had to suppress a wince at the strength of her grip - and smiled at Kurt and Blaine.

“Don’t be silly. Kurt calls me Carole, Finn calls him Burt -” she stressed it again and squeezed his arm hard, “- it’d just be ridiculous to have you Mr. and Mrs.-ing.” She stared up at Burt with look that clearly meant get your act together. “Finn texted me a few minutes ago that he was just leaving Rachel’s, so let’s go ahead and get a table. I’ve been dying for a glass of wine all day.” She pulled Burt toward the door but hung back when he opened it and gestured for the boys to go first. Burt’s mouth dropped open again as Blaine passed him and he spotted yet another hickey, this one older and yellowing but just as impressive, behind Blaine’s ear.

“Jesus Christ, what are they doing in that school?” Burt whispered to Carole, hanging back as the boys approached the hostess table.

“Would you please try to be civil? He’s your son’s soulmate!” she all but hissed at him.

“Oh, believe me, I know. With marks like that I think they know in Toledo.”

“Kurt is in a very difficult position. If he needs to take it out on Blaine’s body, well, the only one who should have anything to say about that is Blaine.”

It was Burt’s turn to glare at Carole. “Well thank you for that image. Especially when I’m about to eat.”

Finn arrived just as they were settling in with their menus and he looked just as unhappy as Kurt and Blaine. Burt was beginning to suspect that the food wasn’t the only thing that was going to suck tonight.

“No Rachel?” Carole asked as she jumped up and hugged her son.

“Let me guess,” Kurt said, staring up at his brother. “Her dads have decided to fund her Broadway debut and she’s holding open call auditions for a co-star tonight.”

Finn stared right back at Kurt and Burt had the uncomfortable feeling that things were going on about which he knew nothing. He hated being out of the loop, especially where his kids were concerned.

“Why don’t you just give her a break, okay?” Finn said. “She’s under a lot of pressure.”

“Right. Because passing judgment on my personal life is so exhausting. I’m surprised any of you have the energy to get out of bed in the morning.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you and Bl . . .Mr. . . with . . . with that. She’s just really upset about what happened today.”

Burt and Carole’s eyes met, but when he lifted a brow in question she only shrugged.

“Okay,” Burt said, “what happened today?”

Kurt stared at his lap. Finn settled in his chair and hid his face in his menu. Blaine remained as silent and removed as he’d been since they’d sat down.

The waitress appeared then and her cheery greeting clashed jarringly with the prevailing mood at the table. They ordered drinks and food, Finn and Kurt both in carefully casual voices, Blaine so quiet Burt could barely hear him from across the table. When she left them with only glasses of water to distract them, they all lapsed back into silence.

“Somebody’d better start talking.” Burt stared at each of them in turn but they all avoided his gaze. Finn’s eyes met Kurt’s, though, and Kurt shook his head, trying to send his brother some sort of silent signal.

“Finn,” Burt said in his strongest command voice. He thought he saw Blaine wince out of the corner of his eye. But he kept his attention focused on his stepson. “What the hell happened?”

“Kurt quit glee club,” Finn blurted, shooting Kurt a look of apology.

“Oh my God, Finn!” Kurt said.

“Dude, he was going to find out anyway!”

“Oh honey, why would you do that?” Carole reached across to take Kurt’s hand.

Only Burt and Blaine were silent. Burt didn’t know what Blaine was thinking, but he himself could only stare at Kurt, completely astonished. He’d been imagining all kinds of trouble that Kurt could have gotten into but never in a million years would he have guessed this. Glee club was everything to Kurt. He’d seen how much it had hurt Kurt last year when he’d thrown his chance to sing that solo because of the crank calls Burt was getting. And that was just one song. Now suddenly he was walking away from the whole damn thing?

“Kurt.” Burt waited until his son looked up at him. “What happened in glee club?”

“I don’t want to talk about it Dad. It’s my life and my decision.”

Blaine moved then, resting a hand on Kurt’s forearm with a soft “Kurt,” that sounded almost like begging.

Kurt turned to him and although his eyes were gentle his voice was firm. “No,” he said simply.

“Look, Kurt,” Burt said, “I know you’re a bonded dom now. Hell, I think everybody we walked past on the way to this table knows.”

“Dad!” Kurt hissed.

“But you’re also my son and if there’s trouble at school it’s still my business. So out with it.”

But Kurt just stared down at his arm, where Blaine’s fingers were stroking gently back and forth, and didn’t speak.

“Finn?” Burt turned his attention to his stepson, who looked like he wanted to disappear. “What doesn’t my kid want to tell me?”

Finn shot a miserable glance at Kurt but then looked right back at Burt, just as Burt had known he would.

“Kurt wanted Mr., um . . .” he fumbled for a second then inclined his head in Blaine’s direction, “he wanted him to watch rehearsal today. But Mr. Schue said no. So Kurt quit.”

“Is that true Kurt?”

Kurt was staring at Finn, his mouth gaping open like he couldn’t believe anybody could be so stupid.

Blaine looked at Kurt for a long moment then turned to Burt. “It was a little more complicated than that.”

Blaine’s words seemed to unfreeze Kurt, but he was still focused on Finn. “You wonder why I don’t want to be around any of you? You can’t even say his name, Finn! And you have two to choose from so it shouldn’t be that freaking hard!”

“That’s the whole point, dude! He’s your boyfriend; he’s my teacher - what am I supposed to do with that?”

“He’s not your teacher!”

“You know what I mean!”

Carole put a restraining hand on each of the boys’ arms. “Okay, let’s try to calm down a little. I haven’t been kicked out of a restaurant in fifteen years and I really want my wine.”

“Blaine, okay?” Finn said in a slightly quieter but no less intense voice. “Blaine. I can say it.” He turned to look straight at Kurt’s soulmate. “I’m glad you’re here, Blaine. I’m glad Kurt found you. And I appreciate you understanding that this is hard for some of us to wrap our heads around.”

“Thank you Finn,” Blaine said with a little nod.

Finn turned back to his brother. “Is that what you wanted? Will you come back to glee now?”

“That’s not the point, Finn. That’s not what this is about at all.”

Burt set his water glass on the table with a loud thump that effectively drew everyone’s attention his way. “Well somebody better tell me what this is all about before I decide we need to take this discussion back to the house after dinner.”

Kurt heaved a dramatic sigh but Burt knew he had him where it counted. “Fine,” he said, but he glared at Burt just to make sure his dad knew how much being cornered like this pissed him off.

“So talk,” Burt said.

“I asked Blaine to meet me at glee after school. So he could watch me sing. And when I got there Mr. Schue was attacking him.”

“Attacking how?”

“He had him cornered, Dad. He was holding onto his arm and telling him he had to leave, that the other kids shouldn’t be exposed to us, that we shouldn’t have bonded and that we were a bad example -”

“Okay, so what did you do?”

“I got Blaine out of there. We left and we . . .” a silent look passed between Kurt and Blaine, “. . . we talked. And then I went back to the choir room and I told Mr. Schue that I didn’t want him talking to Blaine anymore. I told him he’d have to go through me if had anything he needed to say. Which I have a right to do, Dad, he’s my submissive.” Kurt’s voice raised defensively, even though Burt hadn’t said anything at all.

“That is absolutely your right.” Kurt’s mouth fell open in such a perfect “O” of surprise that Burt had to hold back a laugh.

“Well he didn’t quite see it that way,” Kurt said once he recovered. “He said I didn’t have the right to tell him how to interact with the other teachers.”

Burt nodded. “I can see his point.”

“But you just said -” Kurt protested.

“Let me finish, son.” Burt held Kurt’s gaze until his son began to relax. “I told you last weekend that this was going to be a hard road. We talked about it. You being able to put marks like that on his body doesn’t change the fact that you have to be in bed by eleven o’clock on school nights.” Kurt flushed, but he held Burt’s eyes. “And you being in charge of his welfare doesn’t mean that all your teachers have to magically start treating you like an adult.”

“I have rights!”

“Yes you do. And you could probably find a way to push this if you wanted to. But what are you really going to accomplish? In a couple of months the year’ll be over and Blaine’s not going to be at McKinley anymore. It won’t even be an issue.”

“But it’s not fair!” Kurt protested.

“You’re right. It’s not. But one thing I’ve always admired about you, Kurt, is your ability to look ‘not fair’ in the face and still figure out a way to come out on top.”

“You are pretty good at that, dude,” Finn chimed in.

Burt felt Carole’s hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, and he gave her a smile before he turned to Kurt again. “So was that the reason you quit? Because Schuester didn’t respect your authority?”

Kurt shrugged. “Partly. I think I knew I had to do it even before I talked to him, though. I just . . . I don’t belong there anymore, Dad.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Kurt looked at Finn, then back at Burt. “Nobody talks me since they found out. Half of them won’t even look at me. They don’t want to hear about this any more than Mr. Schuester does. I can’t face it, Dad."

The pain on his face made Burt’s heart clench and he was completely at a loss for words. Kurt was right, everything he was saying made sense, but it still felt as wrong as it could be to think of him giving up glee.

A server appeared then, setting drinks in front of them, and Burt reached eagerly for his beer.

“It’s about more than friends though, isn’t it?” Carole asked, once they’d been left alone. She fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. “I mean, performing is so important you. Wouldn’t you miss that? And don’t you need extra-curriculars on your college applications? They have a good shot at nationals, right? Admissions departments love stuff like that.”

Kurt didn’t answer, he just sighed and took a sip of his Coke.

“And what do you think of this?” Burt jerked his chin at Blaine, who started, eyes wide. He looked at Kurt but Kurt only stared silently at his drink, so he turned back to Burt.

“I told Kurt I didn’t want him to give up glee club because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” Kurt said, only half turning his head toward Blaine.

“Because of us then,” Blaine said. “I think he needs it."

Kurt looked like he wanted to say something back to Blaine but whatever it was had to wait as their waitress arrived, with a friend in tow and two trays full of steaming, overdone pasta.

Burt didn’t bring up glee club again, and Kurt seemed more than happy to have the subject dropped. He jumped in when Carole asked the boys about weekend plans and the three of them, Carole, Finn and Kurt, chattered on in a way that would have looked perfectly normal to any casual observers. Blaine stayed silent (Burt was starting to wonder if the man ever spoke more than two sentences together) but whenever Burt tried to catch his eye he was either watching Kurt or completely focused on his food.

So Burt applied himself to his limp spaghetti with a sigh, wishing fervently that it was one of Kurt’s creations instead. Well at least everyone was too preoccupied trying to act normal to notice him piling on extra Parmesan cheese. Everyone except Blaine, who finally glanced in his direction just in time to catch him in the act. But Blaine only smiled and bent to take another bite.

Half an hour later, as they were headed out the door, Burt reached for Kurt’s arm and pulled him aside from the group. “You guys go ahead, I want to talk to my son for a minute.”

“Dad!” Kurt whined, just like he used to when he was nine and being told to eat his vegetables.

“Here or the house,” Burt threatened.

Kurt groaned, but he stopped resisting.

“We’ll only be a minute,” Burt said, tugging Kurt around the corner of the building out of sight.

“I get it, Dad.” Kurt said as he trailed along behind Burt. “You want me to go back to glee club. But it’s my decision and I’m not making it tonight. I just want go back to Blaine’s, okay? This day has sucked in ways I can’t even explain and I just want it over.”

“Just one more thing, okay?”

Kurt sighed but nodded.

“I want you to really think about how this is going to affect Blaine.”

Burt could tell that wasn’t what Kurt had expected him to say. “He . . . he wants me to do what I think is right,” he said.

“Of course he does; he’s your sub. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings about it.” Burt rubbed at the back of his neck. He could definitely sympathize with Kurt’s desire to have this day over with. “If you quit glee, on top of everything else you’re giving up in order to be with him -”

“Being with him is worth anything I have to give up,” Kurt insisted. “He knows that. I told him.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t still feel guilty about it. I bet he told you that being with you is worth him having to stick around this crummy town for another year, too, didn’t he? And does that make you feel any less guilty for keeping him here?” Kurt flinched a little and Burt could see he’d hit a nerve. “I know you hate to have it pointed out, but Blaine’s a lot older than you which means he has more perspective. He knows better than you do what kind of things you’re going to miss out on because of him.”

“Because of us, Dad. He’s not the only one in this. I was the one who wanted to claim him right away.”

“That’s not the point.” Burt gripped Kurt’s shoulders and held him still. “Blaine’s a submissive. He doesn’t think like we do. He doesn’t automatically assume he’s worthy of you. And the more you give up for him - and that’s how it’ll feel to him, Kurt, no matter what he says - the more pressure he’s going to put on himself to live up to that. To make up for the stuff you didn’t get to have. That’s a heavy burden for anyone to carry around.”

Kurt shook his head, almost like he was trying to escape Burt’s words. “I don’t want him to do that.”

“Then you have some serious thinking to do. You made a stand; I’m proud of you for doing that. I know it would cost you a lot to swallow your pride and go back, after the things Schuester said. More than you’d be willing to do for yourself, maybe. But you need to decide whether you’re willing to do it for your soulmate.”

Kurt pulled away from him then and paced back and forth along the side of the building. “Why can’t you all just understand that I don’t want to be in glee club any more?”

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second.” Kurt stopped moving and glared at him but Burt only laughed. “Come on, Kurt, this is me you’re talking to. I know what that club means to you. I’ve been living through it for going on two years now. You’re hurt and pissed off and your dom hormones have got you all in a twist but you need that club and you know it.”

“Not now. Not anymore.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not the same Dad!” Kurt practically shouted. “Glee’s supposed to be a place where I can be myself! It’s supposed to be safe. It’s the place where I don’t have to fight just to be treated like a normal human being.”

“Since when?”

Kurt gaped at him. It was a rare thing to render his son speechless and Burt pressed his advantage before Kurt had a chance to recover.

“Maybe your hormones are giving you amnesia, but I distinctly remember you fighting for everything you ever got from that club. When Schuester didn’t want you sing that song, and when he kept making you sing with the boys, and when you didn’t get solos competition after competition. But you stayed, Kurt. You stayed and you fought because there was something there that was worth fighting for. You fought so hard. And now you expect me to believe that you really want to walk away? Because what? Nobody understands you? So what else is new?”

Kurt just stared at him, then suddenly he started to tremble and for a second Burt was afraid he’d made him cry but then Kurt moved a little into the light and Burt realized he was laughing. Well, he’d take it. A Kurt who could laugh was a Kurt who could listen. Burt smiled back at him, then he was laughing too, and he hoped it felt as cleansing for Kurt as it did for him.

“Look, kid, I know there’s no guarantee your friends and Schuester are going to come around. But I can guarantee that if you don’t go back they never will. And even if they don’t, there’s still good reasons to stay, Kurt. For both of you.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to say it’s not going to suck to walk back in there and let him think he won - it takes a lot of strength to do something like that. I just don’t want you to let that cloud your judgment. You need to figure out what’s best for both of you.”

Kurt groaned through the last of his laughter. “God, being a grown up sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. If they gave adulthood classes that’d be the first lesson. Welcome to the real world.”

They both laughed again at that, and Burt reached out and pulled Kurt into a tight hug. “Just promise me you’ll think about it,” he said over Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt pulled back and smiled and his expression was clearer than Burt had seen it so far that night. “Thanks, Dad.”

And really, hearing his son say that was worth a hundred terrible fake Italian dinners. Any day.

********************

They didn’t speak at all on the ride back to the apartment. Pain was starting to spike in the space behind Blaine’s eyes and he felt the weight of everything that had happened pressing him down into the upholstery of his seat. He hated seeing Kurt unhappy, hated arguments, and most of all he hated having no idea what his role was. He wasn’t really part of the Hummel family yet, even though everything they did was going to affect his life from now on.

The only things that kept him from outright crying were the memory of Carole’s hand squeezing his warmly as she kissed him on the cheek before he climbed into the Navigator, and Kurt’s soft, sweet smile when he came back from his t�te-�-t�te with his father.

But Kurt had been silent ever since, lost in his own thoughts, and Blaine let his head sink back against the seat and closed his eyes. At least, he thought, he had Kurt. Even if their first real night together had been completely derailed, they could still nestle together in his bed and Kurt could hold him and maybe by morning things would look more manageable.

A warm hand settled on top of his own where it rested on the seat, and gentle fingers curled around his palm. Blaine could feel himself relax from just that simple touch. He didn't open his eyes or speak; he just let himself enjoy the feeling of everything else receding as his world contracted down to that single point of contact.

Sooner than he'd expected the car slowed to a stop. "Are you asleep?" Kurt asked.

"Nope. Just enjoying this."

"What?"

Blaine curled his own fingers around Kurt's and have them a little double squeeze. Kurt made a huffing sound that might have been a chuckle, but Blaine wasn't ready to open his eyes to check.

Kurt's other hand settled heavy on the back of his neck and pulled him into the feather-light brush of soft lips and he whimpered, not even trying to suppress it because this was exactly what he needed, this sweet gentle reminder, and when the lips were gone Blaine opened his eyes to find Kurt's only inches away. The yellow glow of the street light stole their color but their expression was all that mattered - so close and looking at Blaine like he was something precious.

“Should we go in?” Blaine whispered. The mood between them seemed so delicate and he wanted to keep it as long as possible.

Kurt shook his head. “Not yet. I want to talk.”

“In the car?”

Kurt leaned to the side and stared past Blaine in the direction of the house. “When we go in there, I want it to be everything we’ve both been planning this week.” His eyes found Blaine’s again and they were more serious now. “So anything you’re thinking, or that you need to say, I want you to tell me now. I don’t want anything between us.”

Blaine sighed. He longed for the haven of his apartment, but he understood what Kurt was trying to say. So many things had happened that afternoon and evening that his head spun a little when I tried to remember them all and put them in order in his mind. Maybe it was better to get everything out now. He was willing to try anything that might get them back on track for the weekend he’d dreamed about.

“I think he was right about some things,” he said, letting his head fall onto the back of the seat again.

“My dad?” Kurt asked.

“Him too, but I really meant Will. He wasn’t being very tactful about it but - he wasn’t wrong. Not completely.”

“What do you mean?”

Blaine glanced over at Kurt. He looked puzzled, brows drawn together over his strangely colorless eyes, but he wasn’t rejecting the idea out of hand. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand tight. “I don’t want you to just have me and nothing else. I get that we both have to give things up in order to be together right now, but I do want you to have a chance to be a normal kid in high school and experience all the stuff that goes with that.”

“Right, because my high school experience has been so memorable up until now.”

“I just don’t want you losing touch with the things you love, Kurt. Will’s right. You’re going to spend most of your free time in there -” he jerked his head back toward the house, “- with me. Because we both need that. But if you quit glee club -”

“Blaine -”

Blaine pressed two fingers to Kurt’s lips. “Just hear me out, okay? Your friends already feel strange about us and if you quit glee I don’t see how that’s ever going to get fixed. I’m afraid you’re going to end up isolated, even more than you feel now, and when I’m not there anymore . . .”

“I’ve spent most of my life being alone,” Kurt said, pulling Blaine’s hand away from his mouth. “I think I can handle one more year.”

“But I don’t want that for you. Not if it doesn’t have to be that way.”

It was Kurt’s turn to heave a sigh and drop his own head back against his seat. “Everyone keeps talking about being normal. But what does that even mean? I have never been normal, and believe me, my high school experience before you was the opposite of anything you’d look back fondly on.” He rolled his head toward Blaine, looking tired and frustrated but not, thank goodness, angry. “So you can’t take me to the prom. Well it’s not like I was going to go to the prom anyway. Now instead of sitting home alone watching a Jersey Shore marathon I can come here and watch it with you.” A smile bloomed on his lips. “And you can be naked. And serve me drinks. And feed me grapes or something.”

“Are you trying to change the subject?” Blaine asked, but he was smiling too.

“Or . . . maybe in honor of the occasion I’ll let you wear a bowtie.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned closer. “I’d just have to figure out where I want to tie it.”

Blaine groaned but his smile widened. Kurt reached to touch the corner of his mouth and his fingers caressed up over his cheekbone and down the length of his jaw. “I promised my dad I would think about going back,” he said, “and I really will. If you both think it’s that important for me, then it probably is.”

Kurt’s acceptance, his faith in Blaine, felt like the sun peeking out after their stormy day. “Thank you,” he said fervently.

“You’re welcome.” Kurt’s smile widened briefly, but then it disappeared altogether. “Now I have something to ask you.”

“Anything,” Blaine said.

Kurt moved his hand back to Blaine’s and slid their fingers together. He was quiet for a long moment, just staring at their joined hands. When he finally spoke, it was very careful and precise, as if he’d been practicing what words to use. “Why did you safeword today? On Monday, I was just as upset and I marked you and you didn’t stop me. I thought you liked it.”

“I did. On Monday.”

Kurt looked up at him out of the corner of his eye and Blaine was struck by how young and unsure he could look for someone who could also be so completely in charge of them both.

“So what was different today?”

Blaine thought carefully before he answered. It was an easy question, but he wanted to make sure that Kurt really understood him. “On Monday you were mad at me -”

“I wasn’t!”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand. “Maybe not consciously, but I was the one wearing your cuff and refusing to acknowledge you. You knew why, and you accepted it, but of course you were angry. Any dom would be. So when you marked me you were expressing that anger and frustration, and maybe punishing me a little -”

“No -”

“You were, Kurt. Of course you were. Think about it. You were expressing your - well, ownership, I guess - in the only way I was willing to let you. You were angry, like today, but on Monday it was all about us. You and me and nobody else. You were dominating me in this primal, instinctive way - it totally turned me on.”

“But today was different.” Kurt didn’t make it a question, but Blaine answered it anyhow.

“Today wasn’t about me, or us at all. You were mad at Will. But you couldn’t yell at him or shove him into a wall so you used me instead, to get those feelings out. And honestly, sometimes that might be just as good for me but today it wasn’t. It all felt really wrong, for whatever reason, so I stopped it.”

Kurt grimaced a little. “That’s not very specific. Sometimes it might be okay but today it wasn’t? So how am I supposed to know what I should do next time?”

“But that’s the whole point. That’s why we have safewords. There are a million reasons something - anything - might be okay one day and not the next. You’re just supposed to follow your instincts and do what feels right. And it’s my job to speak up if it’s not.” Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand tight in his own. “But God, Kurt, the last thing I want is for you to be second-guessing yourself with me. Everything you do is wonderful. It’s just not always going to be wonderful every time."

“This is very confusing, you know,” Kurt said.

"That's where the trust comes in. I know you don't like that because you're a dom and you like to control things, and you feel like it's your job to keep me safe -"

"It is my job."

"But if you're always holding back you'll never really be able to give either of us what we need. That's why you have to trust me to safeword when I need to and you have to really get that me safewording doesn't mean you did anything wrong."

"It just feels to me like it does. Stop means wrong."

"Because you're not a sub. This is just something you have to take my word for."

Kurt stared at him so long that Blaine was beginning to wonder if he’d said something wrong. But then finally he smiled, and the streetlight illuminated a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He dangled the car keys in front of Blaine. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “You can bring my bag from the back.”

Such a simple order, but it sounded like hope to Blaine and his dick concurred with an optimistic throb.

********************

Kurt followed Blaine up the walk, letting him do everything, not even offering to help when Blaine had to set down the bag to unlock the main door for him, then pick it up and repeat the whole process at the apartment door. Kurt had only had the one dom class so far, but Thomas and Mira had stressed right off the bat how important rules, routines and service were to most subs. Excelling at specific tasks with exacting standards made the submissive feel important and valuable to the dominant. Which was just a fancy way of saying what Finn had told Kurt the day he’d met Blaine. Having someone tell you what to do made you feel loved.

Kurt was very determined to make Blaine feel loved tonight.

“You can take that into the bedroom,” he said once the door was closed and locked behind them. He followed Blaine across the dark living room and down the hall to the bedroom. Blaine switched on the light and set Kurt’s bag down next to the dresser. Then he turned to Kurt and waited, still and expectant but more relaxed than Kurt had seen him all evening.

He left Blaine standing there while he slipped out of his jacket and kicked off his shoes, then he handed both to Blaine and climbed onto the bed, so that when Blaine finished putting his things away and turned back to face Kurt he was stretched out on his side, his head supported on one arm.

“You look like a Roman nobleman waiting to be entertained,” Blaine said, and his eyes glowed in the soft light.

“Does that make you the slave boy whose job it is to keep me happy?” Kurt asked.

“Only in every fantasy I’ve ever had.”

Kurt went with it, letting his eyes rake up and down Blaine’s body. “Take your clothes off,” he finally said. “Slowly.”

Blaine’s smile widened into something Kurt was pretty sure qualified as a leer, but he obeyed, making a show of unbuttoning his cardigan, sliding his shirt teasingly down his gorgeous arms, lifting his t-shirt to let his abs peek out before pulling it over his head. He laid each item neatly on the dresser, then pulled off his shoes and socks and left them next to Kurt’s on the floor. His pants were too tight to drop gracefully, but Blaine was good at improvising, apparently. He fingered the button before he teased it through its hole, and his eyes locked with Kurt’s as he pulled the zipper slowly down.

He turned his back then, bending forward to peel the pants down his legs, wiggling his ass until Kurt was struggling to hold back the laughter that would definitely destroy the whole Roman/slave boy illusion.

When the pants were finally off and folded with everything else on top of the dresser Blaine locked eyes with Kurt again and reached for the waistband of his briefs.

“Stop,” Kurt commanded, and Blaine froze, dropping his hands to his sides.

Kurt climbed off the bed and moved to stand in front of Blaine, so close that their bodies were almost touching. He could see Blaine’s breath speed up and his cock thickening in the tight confines of his blue briefs. He cocked his head to one side and tried his best to look like he was evaluating Blaine, like a prize animal or gorgeous piece of art. He circled around behind Blaine and stroked down his spine and lower; Blaine shivered as Kurt’s fingers teased along the crack of his ass then glided around his thigh and up to cup his cock. Blaine was hard but not hard, and Kurt pressed himself against Blaine’s back and slid his palm up and down Blaine’s length. “Oh, come on. You can do better than that,” he whispered in Blaine’s ear and as if it understood perfectly Blaine’s dick responded, lengthening until it was straining under the fabric of his briefs.

Kurt kept rubbing, and Blaine moaned, leaning back and letting his head fall onto Kurt’s shoulder. “God, please don’t ever, ever, ever stop doing that,” he begged.

“Oh, I need you much more desperate than this,” Kurt whispered. He sucked Blaine’s earlobe into his mouth, teased it with his tongue, and gave his erection one final squeeze. Then he reached for Blaine’s right arm, quickly unbuckling his cuff and, still pressed into Blaine’s back, presented his own cuff to be undone.

While Blaine set the cuffs on the dresser next to his folded clothes, Kurt went to rummage in his bag until he found the handout he’d saved from his first dom class. He carried it back to the bed, stretched out again, and waved an imperious hand at Blaine. “You can take them off now.”

Blaine reached for the waistband a second time and Kurt could see his hands tremble. He’d been too busy concentrating on Blaine to think much about his own pleasure, but that little tell, that sign that he was already getting under Blaine’s skin and bringing him back to the place he’d been before this afternoon’s drama had killed their momentum, filled Kurt with a sense of power that went straight to his dick. And the sight of Blaine slowly sliding those briefs down, revealing his nakedness inch by inch, only intensified the feeling. Kurt was struck, as he was sure he always would be, by the beauty of Blaine’s naked body. He looked like an ancient Olympian ready to wrestle his opponent into the ground. A living, breathing embodiment of Michelangelo’s David. Except for the hard cock jutting out in front of him, but really, that just added to the overall picture Blaine made standing there, just waiting for Kurt to tell him what to do next. Breathtaking.

But Kurt had plans, plans to make Blaine feel all the things that his Dom class teachers had said were important for a submissive. He dragged his eyes away from the gorgeous naked man in front of him and down to the paper he held in his hands.

“Presentation Postures for the Submissive,” he read out loud, and Blaine’s tiny gasp went straight to his dick.

********************

Blaine moved through position after position, stretching his body this way and that as Kurt circled and evaluated and demanded perfect stillness with no concern for the stress that any particular position might put on his body. Standing with his hands clasped on the back of his head was the most surprising. It made Blaine feel exposed and vulnerable, and Kurt kept him that way for such a long time, pinching at his nipples and the skin on his cock until he couldn’t hold back sharp, needy whimpers, no matter how hard he tried.

But as soon as he started to feel like maybe he could stand here forever if Kurt would only keep touching him that way, Kurt moved on, tossing a pillow on the floor and commanding Blaine to kneel. Then there was more adjusting, arms behind his head, clasped in front, resting on his thighs. Eventually Kurt stopped telling him how to move and simply arranged Blaine himself, adjusting the tilt of his head, the placement of his hands. That was the last straw for Blaine. With no verbal commands to follow he finally let go completely and let himself be what Kurt wanted him to be: decoration, an object to be placed as Kurt found most pleasing. It was then that he started to really feel the tension from the day leave his body and his world was nothing but Kurt’s breath on his skin as he bent close to move him here and there, and Kurt’s miraculous fingers, teasing their way across his flesh as they molded and shaped Blaine into his own vision of perfection.

“Open your eyes, Blaine.”

Blaine hadn’t even realized they were closed. He opened them to find Kurt right there, kneeling in front of him with a smile and desire in his eyes that Blaine thought must be a mirror image of his own.

“Now look down at the floor, but don’t move your head.”

Blaine lowered his eyes to a spot just in front of his bent knees.

“That’s perfect. This is your kneeling position.”

Blaine’s arms were folded behind his back, each hand grasping for the opposite elbow. His legs were just far enough apart to let his balls hang freely between them. His head was high but his eyes lowered. He felt completely exposed and on display. He also felt beautiful.

Kurt slid a hand between his legs and fondled his balls, rolling them gently, then not so gently, until Blaine had to struggle to hold himself perfectly still. His cock flexed over and over, the head pressing damp against the skin of his belly.

“I wish you could see how you look, Blaine,” Kurt said His voice had a breathless edge to it. “You’re like a - like a fallen angel or something. Totally at my mercy.”

“I am,” Blaine said, eyes still carefully focused on the floor. “That’s all I ever want to be.”

Kurt stood up then, and as his body passed through Blaine’s line of sight it was obvious that he was hard, straining against his fly.

“Please, can I . . . I want to . . .”

“Tell me,” Kurt commanded.

“I want you,” Blaine begged. “So much.” Kurt stood so close, and it had been so long since Blaine had been able to touch and taste his naked body. It would only take the tiniest movement of Blaine’s head to press his mouth against the bulge that waited just one layer of denim away.

“Well what I want is for you to hold this position. Memorize it. And then we’ll see.”

And he walked out of the room, leaving Blaine alone, cock pulsing, muscles straining in the unnatural position, and no dom there to distract him from need and discomfort.

Submitting to Kurt, to his hands and his mouth and his rules and commands, was natural. Blaine had been training most of his adult life for that kind of submission. But submitting to the absence of Kurt, to the waiting, to stillness and quiet and the lack of things that felt so vital to his existence now, that took so much more conscious effort. But the greatest acts of submission brought the greatest rewards, and kneeling there on the floor alone, trying to remember every tiny nuance of the shape Kurt had created with his body, Blaine felt the very last strands of anxiety from the day fall away and he began to feel like the Blaine he’d been that morning when all he’d wanted was to be Kurt’s in every way possible.

He lost track of time, kneeling there. He could hear Kurt making noises in the kitchen, letting him know that he wasn’t alone. The ache in his shoulders grew, and his thighs began to tremble gently, but he embraced the pain, fell through it like water, floated on it, thinking only of Kurt, wonderful Kurt who once again had found the perfect way to shut out fear and anxiety make Blaine feel safe. He wondered who did that for doms. He could remember being told in his sub classes long ago that doms didn't crave the feeling of protection and safety that was so vital to a submissive, but even with his vast experience of dominants that was hard for Blaine to believe. It just felt so necessary to his very existence. It wrapped around him in an almost physical way, both soothing and arousing, making him feel completely owned yet wholly his own. It was bliss.

Blaine was so lost thought and sensation that he didn't even notice Kurt coming back into the room and when a hand tightened sharply in his hair his yelp was more from surprise than pain.

"You moved." Kurt's voice was rougher than Blaine had ever heard it. It went right through him, spiked straight down the center of his body, and left him quivering with desire and the need to atone.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said without thinking.

Kurt pulled harder, tugging Blaine’s head back to the appropriate position, then kept his hand tight in Blaine’s curls, twisting a little so Blaine had to fight against it to keep his head where it had been put.

The outline of Kurt’s cock inside his jeans was once again just inches from Blaine’s mouth. Kurt’s hand twisted against his scalp and the muscles in his arms ached and his dick was as hard as he could ever remember it being and all he wanted out of life was to have that cock in his mouth again. Even the tiniest taste . . .

“Please, please Kurt . . .”

“Tell me what you want,” Kurt commanded.

“Please . . . let me taste you. It’s been so long. I want to make you come. I need to make you come . . .”

Kurt pulled harder, so that Blaine was finally forced to give in and tilt his head up to meet Kurt’s eyes. Eyes that were dark and - dangerous was the only word to describe it. “Do you really think you deserve that, Blaine?” Kurt asked quietly.

The very few cells in Blaine’s brain that weren’t occupied with being as turned on as a person was capable of being, pointed out that a Kurt who was actually being instructed in how to dominate was probably a very dangerous thing indeed.

“Please,” he begged. “I’ll be so good, I’ll do anything, just, God, it’s been forever.”

He could tell Kurt was as turned on as he was - his cock was outlined thick and defined in his pants and his hips were thrusting, just the tiniest bit, rhythmically, teasing Blaine as they canted closer to his mouth, then further away.

Finally Kurt’s free hand reached for the button of his fly and Blaine’s body responded immediately with a surge of precome that trickled over the head of his cock. It was followed by several more as Kurt pulled his zipper down, let go of Blaine’s hair long enough to shove jeans and underwear down to his thighs, and his cock slipped out to stand hard and so fucking close. Kurt was breathing fast but Blaine held his breath, afraid that the tiniest move might make Kurt change his mind about doing what he was obviously contemplating. He only dared to beg with his eyes, staring up at Kurt’s, that had gone midnight blue so far above him.

Then it was happening. Really, really happening. Kurt anchored one hand in Blaine’s hair again and the other dragged the head of his cock against Blaine’s lips. Blaine opened his mouth, but the hand wouldn’t let him move forward. He waited there, body bound by Kurt’s command, as Kurt slid into his mouth, ever so slowly, over his tongue which stroked and lapped and thrilled to the taste of Kurt’s flesh, deep into his mouth, and deeper, Blaine opened his throat and pulled against Kurt’s hand until pain sang through his scalp. He didn’t care. He needed Kurt inside him, down his throat, more than he needed stupid, trivial things like comfort or air.

“Behave or I’ll stop,” Kurt said with a sharp twist of his hand. Blaine could tell by the tremor Kurt wasn’t quite able to keep out of his voice that stopping wasn’t an option for Kurt anymore. But he obeyed anyhow, because obedience to Kurt was the one thing that was actually more important than that cock.

“Much better,” Kurt said, and he rewarded Blaine with one deep thrust, sinking into the back of Blaine’s mouth and down his throat. Blaine moaned with the pleasure of being so filled, so stretched, of finally being able to serve Kurt properly. Kurt responded to the moan with more thrusts, picking up speed until he was really, truly, officially fucking Blaine’s mouth. Blaine tried to suck, to stroke with his tongue, to participate in some way but Kurt kept going faster until the only thing Blaine could do was hold his mouth open and let Kurt use him - use him - take pleasure in his body as Blaine’s own hands strained behind him and his cock danced and his heart felt like it would burst with happiness.

Kurt was silent - only the speed and faltering rhythm of his thrusts giving away how close he was - but Blaine moaned and whimpered and grunted and whined, anything he could think of to let Kurt know that this was everything he’d ever wanted. He was nothing now, nothing more than a vessel for Kurt’s enjoyment. His body responded as Kurt’s did, pleasure looming closer and closer as it did for his dom. The only difference was that Kurt was actually going to come. His release would have to suffice for both of them.

The strokes sped up to a fever pitch, fucking fast and hard, and with a whispered, “Oh God, oh God, Blaine . . .” as his only warning Kurt slammed to a stop, deep in Blaine’s throat, and Blaine’s hands grappled to keep their grip on his elbows as Kurt’s cock trembled and spurted in his mouth and his own body shuddered wildly through Kurt’s orgasm.

Blaine tried to keep Kurt there, softening so beautifully in his mouth. His own dick was so wet now that the air of the room felt cold against his flesh and the juxtaposition of Kurt’s satiated cock with his needy one made him feel like everything was right in the world. But eventually Kurt slid back and Blaine gave a little, plaintive whine as it receded and left him empty.

But he wasn’t empty for long. Kurt fell to his knees and the hand gripping Blaine’s hair relaxed into a caress and Kurt’s mouth was on his, kissing hard and deep, his tongue now fucking in and out and pulling more moans from Blaine’s throat. The taste of Kurt’s mouth following so closely behind the taste of his come was overwhelming and Blaine’s head was swimming with the beauty of it by the time Kurt pulled back a little to smile his perfect little boy smile, eyes still so dark with the aftermath of his desire.

“I can’t really believe I did that,” Kurt said with a little breathless chuckle.

“I’m so glad you did,” Blaine said fervently.

“I can see that.” Kurt wrapped a hand around Blaine’s wet cock and slid it up and down, sending pure, naked tendrils of pleasure curling in his balls and climbing up through his belly. He kissed Blaine again, still stroking, gently teasing their lips together this time, the hand that wasn’t tormenting Blaine’s dick sliding around his back to grip his forearms where they pressed together.

Kurt’s hand kept pumping, twisting across the head of Blaine’s cock over and over until he was groaning freely, trying not to thrust up into the beautiful, tight friction.

“I think you’re finally as desperate as I wanted you to be tonight,” Kurt said, loosening his grip so he stroked with the lightest possible touch.

“Oh, God, please say that means I can come,” Blaine said, giving Kurt the best begging face he could manage. “I think this has been the longest week of my life.”

Kurt laughed. “Oh sweetie, you this desperate isn’t the end.” He leaned in close and brushed his lips against Blaine’s ear. “You this desperate,” he whispered more seductively than Blaine had yet heard him be, “means we can finally begin.”