“I’m not telling you twice.”

Listen to Kurt. Don’t question. Do as you’re told.

Blaine recited it to himself like a mantra. If he wanted to keep Kurt here, or just to keep Kurt, he had to find a way to shut down all those parts of his brain that wanted to understand and control. Blaine grabbed his sweater and t-shirt and pulled them over his head as one. By the time his face emerged from all the cotton and wool Kurt was no longer standing in front of him. He could hear him in the kitchen, of all places, opening and closing drawers looking for something.

He stood up long enough to strip off his pants, underwear, socks and shoes then panicked a little because he didn’t know what to do with them. Something told him Kurt wouldn’t like them strewn all over the floor. He pushed them into a semi-neat pile under the little table that he’d flung his jacket over and was back in position on his knees by the time Kurt returned, empty-handed, to stand in front of him.

It should have made him feel more vulnerable and exposed, kneeling naked in front of Kurt, but it actually did just the opposite. This was submission 101, basic and familiar and oddly calming. He looked up at Kurt who barely seemed to register Blaine’s naked body. He was only looking in Blaine’s eyes, and although his breath was still coming in hard, fast pants, he didn’t seem angry. Blaine wasn’t sure what Kurt was feeling.

Listen. Watch. Wait.

“Your cuff, too.” Kurt said. His voice didn’t betray any emotion at all. He was completely in control of himself now.

Blaine held his arm up to Kurt, but Kurt made no move to take it.

“You said we’d always . . .” Blaine prodded.

“Take it off, Blaine.” Still controlled, distant.

So this was some kind of test, Blaine realized. Kurt hadn’t fully decided what he was going to do. There was still a chance that Blaine could fuck this up. He unclasped the cuff and pulled it off his arm. Not knowing what else to do, he held it out to Kurt.

Kurt took the cuff from him and set it on the coffee table. Then he knelt in front of Blaine, and they were close enough now that Blaine could see Kurt’s eyes flicker over his body, tiny cracks in the control he was trying to project, and for just a second Blaine thought that Kurt might just kiss him there on the floor and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

“Hold out your arms.”

Kurt was inches away, he could have just grabbed Blaine’s arms if he’d wanted to, but Blaine obeyed, reaching out as far as he could without actually touching Kurt. Kurt’s hands were brusque and businesslike. He turned Blaine’s arms around so that both his palms were facing outward, and moved the right forearm to rest on top of the left. Then he reached for the long, narrow scarf he was wearing and pulled it from around his neck.

Kurt was going to tie him up.

Blaine had thought being told to strip was the very last thing he’d expected, but this, this was so out-of-left-field that he couldn’t even begin to process it. He knew his mouth was gaping open again and he couldn’t seem to remember how to make it close. He searched Kurt’s eyes for any clue at all to what was about to happen, but Kurt only looked at Blaine’s arms, where he was carefully wrapping the scarf, starting at Blaine’s wrists just above his mark and moving up to his elbows, then down again, criss-crossing the soft material and tying it off at the wrists. It was long enough that loose ends hung down to the floor.

Wait, Blaine told himself. Listen. Obey.

The strange position pulled at Blaine’s shoulders and upper back. It also pulled at other parts of his body; he could feel his cock start to stir. He wondered if Kurt would notice it.

Don’t wonder. Just be.

When Kurt finally looked up from his handiwork he seemed as surprised as Blaine at what he’d done. He looked at Blaine like he was almost afraid that he’d gone too far and that Blaine would balk. The realization sunk into Blaine that something big was about to happen.

Blaine wanted Kurt to trust him to be honest and submit. He lowered his eyes and bowed his head, hoping Kurt would see that for what it was.

Do what you need to. I’m yours.

It must have been the right move, because Kurt let out a long, slow breath, like he was trying to prepare himself for something, and then said, “Go stand facing the wall.”

He didn’t offer any help, so Blaine had to struggle to rise without the use of his hands. Kurt stood up too, and tilted his head in the direction of the wall next to the kitchen island. Blaine walked over and stood as close to the wall as his bound hands would allow, his eyes lowered to the floor.

Stop guessing. Don’t guess. Just do.

Kurt went into the kitchen, picked something up from the counter, then came back around to Blaine’s other side so he could see what Kurt was holding. It was a wooden spoon. It was so incongruous that at first Blaine couldn’t imagine what Kurt was going to do with it. It took longer than it should have, considering he was bound and facing a wall, for him to realize that Kurt was going to spank him. With a wooden spoon. He would have laughed; it was almost funny, given all the many things Blaine had been hit with since he started experimenting with other men, but he was too busy trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Kurt was going to punish him.

Blaine had never been punished.

He’d role-played punishment dozens of times, both in carefully scripted scenes and looser, improvised situations, but whatever the rules of the game, the punishment had never been real. He’d never been with anyone long enough to have rules and consequences for actual misbehavior. But this was definitely real. One look at Kurt’s face told him it was real and crucial and Blaine could completely fuck this up because he had no fucking clue what Kurt wanted from him.

Don’t think. Don’t question. Just be. Just allow.

Kurt touched him then, taking his wrists and bending his arms upward so that the backs were resting against the wall and his mark, Kurt Hummel, was directly in front of his eyes. He stared at it and they both stood in silence. Nerves began to tingle in Blaine’s abdomen. Some kind of ominous feeling was starting to build inside him, like looming storm clouds. He desperately wished he understood anything that was happening.

“Look at me.” Kurt was standing beside Blaine and he only had to turn his head slightly to obey the command. He wondered fleetingly when he would stop meeting new Kurts, because this was another one he hadn’t seen before. Kurt seemed totally sure of himself, very serious and determined. His eyes bored into Blaine’s and seemed to leave him no place to hide. Looking at Kurt like this, he could still see the silvery lines of his mark as well. The name there, next to the person, started an unexpected lump swelling in Blaine’s throat.

“Why am I punishing you?” Kurt asked quietly. The more keyed up Blaine felt, the calmer Kurt seemed to become.

“I disobeyed you in the coffee shop.”

“And?”

Blaine didn’t want to answer that. He didn’t want to go any deeper than he already was into guilt and regret. But Kurt’s eyes were there inches from his and they wouldn’t let him go.

“And I wasn’t honest with you,” he let his gaze flicker away to look directly at the mark in front of his face. “Or myself.”

Blaine thought he detected a slight catch in Kurt’s breathing; it made him feel better to think that maybe Kurt was as affected as he was, no matter how well he was controlling it.

“What does your mark say, Blaine?” God, it was almost conversational, just a random question anyone might ask. Blaine thought he might start hyperventilating.

“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine had to push it past the blockage in his throat.

The spoon came down with a sharp slap on the right side of Blaine’s ass. There had been no warning, not a single tell on Kurt’s face, and Blaine gasped. The pain was real but ephemeral; a strong sting that faded quickly. And even after the smack Kurt’s face betrayed no reaction at all. Whatever he might be feeling, he had it completely under control.

“You’re going to say it after every stroke. That’s all you have to do, Blaine. Just say my name.”

Blaine kept his head turned so the only things in his field of vision were the white wall, the soft letters of his mark, and the blue-gray-green eyes that never left his. Somehow without looking Kurt found the other ass cheek with his spoon and the second smack hit hard and fleeting.

“Kurt Hummel.”

This should be easy, right? Take the hits (and really, he’d had more intense warm-up spankings), say the name, and Kurt would be satisfied. Kurt would stay. He didn’t have to do anything more than stay still, look in Kurt’s eyes, and say two little words.

“Kurt Hummel.”

But the lump in his throat was getting bigger. The name, when he said it, pulled sharply somewhere in his chest and it shouldn’t, just saying someone’s name shouldn’t feel like it was opening him up, sending pain deeper than the spoon smacking his skin.

“Kurt Hummel.”

After the fourth stroke Kurt’s eyes started to lose their distance and really look. They wanted something, Blaine knew. Something that the lump in his throat and the weight in his chest understood but his brain couldn’t seem to figure out.

Listen. Look. Feel.

The sting in his ass, although hardly enough to bother him, started to seem like a physical extension of the eyes, and the name on his wrist, so carefully bound in Kurt’s own scarf, connected eyes and mouth and breath as Blaine spoke the two words; all he had to offer to Kurt in penance.

“Kurt Hummel.”

After the sixth stroke Blaine was gasping (why was he gasping? The spanking was nothing. Kurt wasn’t even working up a sweat) and he knew he couldn’t have looked away from Kurt’s eyes if he’d wanted to. Those eyes and the name on his wrist and lips anchored him in a loop that seemed to tighten with every slap of the spoon against his flesh. That tightened like the muscles of his throat, which had to work harder and harder to force out the words.

“Kurt Hummel.”

The eyes would not let him go. They pinned him down like an insect and he couldn’t hide – there was no place to hide – they saw right through him and illuminated all of his secret hiding places with a soft, blue light that Blaine couldn’t understand because it looked and felt so different from the sharp bites of pain in his body. The eyes wanted something from him, he knew they did, and he needed to give them what they wanted if only he could figure out what it was.

“Kurt Hummel!”

But there wasn’t anything to figure out. Figuring out wasn’t the point at all. The point was to stand here and let those eyes see everything and be whatever Kurt was asking him to be right now at this exact moment.

Blaine had no idea there was a brick wall in his chest until it started to crack.

His eyes filled with tears and he didn’t know why, what the fuck was happening, and his breath was coming in sharp gulps and he wanted to stop, to just never have to say the name again, he couldn’t force it out any more, but he spoon fell once more and,

“Kurt Hummel!”

Then the tears overflowed and he was crying because the name, the name and the eyes were ricocheting around in his chest and the cracks were widening and light was shining through and God he was so afraid. What would he be – who would he be without the solid protection of the wall? But Kurt, Kurt of the eyes and the name and the weathered scars, Kurt couldn’t love him through the wall. No one could love him through the wall. Bigger chunks began to crumble away and he sobbed and the final blow fell and for the last (first) time he said,

“Kurt Hummel!”

Kurt stepped away; the spoon fell to the floor and so did Blaine, sobbing because light was shining through him and his ass burned and he’d never felt so free in his life. He stared up into Kurt’s eyes and Kurt looked at him and Blaine had no idea what he was thinking but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t his job to figure out what Kurt thought or wanted. Kurt would tell him.

But he needed to touch, he needed Kurt’s body to ground him because he was crying and floating and open without the weight of that wall inside him and he had to find an anchor. He reached out for Kurt’s legs, awkward with his bound hands, but Kurt stepped away.

“Please . . . Kurt . . .” he cried, still reaching.

“Straighten up,” came the command from above. Blaine pulled himself back, straightened his spine, and let his hands rest together on his thighs. And that was the anchor: Kurt’s voice, his commands, making the choice to simply follow them. Sobs were still breaking through his body like ocean waves, but Blaine found that his mind was quieting. Waiting. Simply waiting for Kurt.

Kurt stood and watched and Blaine didn’t wonder what Kurt was thinking or whether he’d done anything right or wrong, or what was going to happen now. Kurt had asked him to kneel. He knelt.

And then, as if there’d been some kind of silent signal, Kurt suddenly fell to the floor and wrapped his arms around Blaine and the sobs came harder and Blaine didn’t even notice the way his arms were pinned awkwardly between their bodies. He rested his head in the crook of his soulmate’s neck; let his tears drain into Kurt’s skin; felt the warmth of Kurt’s arms and the soft, high, beautiful voice in his ear.

“Shhhhh. It’s going to be okay now.”

“You were amazing, Blaine. I knew you could do it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, okay. I’m here. We’re here.”

Then sobs started to give way to laughter and Blaine thought he must be a little hysterical; he felt so light, almost weightless, and he needed to tell Kurt something, it was so funny and beautiful that he had to pull back and look in those eyes again. Eyes that were concerned because yeah, he was probably hysterical, but it was beautiful because he was feeling so much.

“That was my first punishment.” He offered it to Kurt like a gift, still laughing through tears that seemed determined to keep falling no matter how wonderful Blaine felt. “First real punishment, anyway.”

He thought maybe Kurt would laugh too, but Kurt’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open and maybe tried to tilt into a smile but Blaine couldn’t tell because Kurt’s lips were on his, his tongue pushing into Blaine’s mouth, one hand grabbing at the back of Blaine’s head to pull him closer and tighter.

Blaine didn’t try to be anything. He didn’t hold himself back in some ideal of submissive behavior. His tongue met Kurt’s in the middle and he kissed back for all he was worth, drinking in the heat and the flavor of coffee left over from a tiny shop that seemed forever ago. He licked his own way into Kurt’s mouth and their lips pressed hard and hungry and desperate, tiny sounds escaping both their throats. And Kurt wasn’t stopping. He pressed forward, up straighter on his knees; Blaine had to tilt his head back sharply to keep their mouths connected and he felt something brush against his arms, still bound and trapped between them. It was the rough fabric of Kurt’s jeans and, under that, the strong, defined shape of Kurt’s cock. Kurt’s hard cock.

He almost expected Kurt to pull back then (don’t expect, feel) but instead Kurt pushed forward again, kissing even harder and deeper until Blaine had no choice but to submit to the ravaging mouth, and Kurt’s cock rutted against Blaine’s arms and the scarf that wrapped them. Hard and fast Kurt’s hips moved, moaning sounds that Blaine echoed, taking his pleasure, using Blaine’s body for his pleasure, and that realization flew through Blaine like wildfire. He was hard in seconds. His fingers scrabbled at Kurt’s pants, trying to reach for anything he could – cock, balls, the sensitive space behind. A shudder ran through his body and he prayed that today’s pants were expendable because he thought he might die if Kurt didn’t come.

But Kurt pulled back (don’t think, don’t worry, listen, look) instead.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

Blaine wanted to cry. He wanted to beg Kurt not to regret what he’d done; it had been amazing and so, so hot.

“I should have undone this right away. God, are you okay?”

The scarf. Kurt was talking about the scarf. He was apologizing for not untying Blaine right away and even as he talked he pulled at the knot in the fabric and began to unwind it from Blaine’s arms. Blaine breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around Kurt’s neck as soon as they were free. He pulled Kurt close for another kiss. He could do that. He could do whatever he needed to do. Kurt would tell him if he went wrong.

Even with his tongue in Blaine’s mouth and Blaine’s fingers digging into the muscles behind his shoulder blades, Kurt had to push away the inclination to berate himself for screwing up. He knew he should stop, maybe apologize again, make sure Blaine was okay after the spanking and the weird emotional catharsis they both seemed to be having.

But it was so hot, trailing his hands down Blaine’s naked back, teasing at the crack of his ass (and Kurt couldn’t deny that was what he was doing, the sounds Blaine made as his fingers slipped lower each time were beyond delicious), kissing open and deep. His arms were full of naked, willing, submissive Blaine and he was so hard, and pressing himself against Blaine before had been so intensely erotic. For just a minute it would be okay to simply take. He could lose himself in the beauty of kissing and touching and wanting.

So he let his tongue reach deeper into Blaine’s mouth and let his fingers trail down again and then dance to the side, over the crease where his thighs bent against his body, teasing the possibility of going further. Blaine pulled his mouth away just far enough to breathe Kurt’s name against his lips. Then he pressed back again, humming a beautiful note in his throat as he took Kurt’s lips and teased his own tongue against them.

Kurt suddenly needed to see; he pulled back from Blaine, who made a beautiful noise of protest but accepted, settling back into his kneeling, waiting posture, which perfectly displayed his body for his dom.

Blaine knelt and looked at Kurt in such an open, unguarded way, with maybe just a touch of shyness, and Kurt let himself stare. He didn’t have a choice, really, because Blaine was beautiful. His body was hard and lean and masculine, gorgeous muscle and soft skin, dark nipples that Kurt wanted to take into his mouth just to see what kind of sounds Blaine would make when he did it.

Blaine was trembling slightly under the scrutiny but his cock was hard and dark against his belly. For a fleeting moment Kurt wondered what dominant thing he should do right now, but he squashed that thought. He just needed to follow his instincts. Plus his own dick was still straining against his pants and the sight of Blaine so turned on just made Kurt want to give him more.

The angle was all wrong for his mouth, but he reached out and ran his thumb over a nipple, and oh yes, the sound Blaine made was delicious and sent even more need spiraling through Kurt’s body. He let his hand trail down into the dips between abdominal muscles, and lower, to rest again in the crease of Blaine’s thigh and tease along it, closer to his cock, and then away.

“Please . . .” Blaine breathed.

“Tell me what you want,” Kurt ordered.

“God, just touch me. Please Kurt.”

Blaine’s eyes were as soft and pleading as his tone. Kurt left his hand where it was, but reached out with the other to rest his fingertips lightly on the head of Blaine’s cock, where a tiny bit of moisture was already gathered. Blaine’s eyes slipped closed, his lashes were still wet and clumpy from his crying, and he sighed a quiet, “Thank you.”

It was the first time Kurt had touched someone else’s dick and once his hand was there he didn’t want to take it away. He just wanted to feel and know and play. His fingers stroked up and down the shaft, slipping the skin over the hard strength underneath. He teased just under the head, circling one light fingertip, then slid back over the top and pinched gently. It flexed upward when he did that so he did it some more, reveling in how responsive Blaine was to his touch.

Blaine’s eyes were still closed and he was moaning freely, breathing in long, shuddering inhales and exhales, but he kept his body still and relaxed for Kurt’s exploration.

“Spread your legs a little bit,” Kurt said, resting his hand at the base of Blaine’s shaft.

Blaine shifted so his legs parted and settled back again. Kurt slid his hand lower, cupping Blaine’s balls, rolling them gently inside their sac, and a deep and primal groan erupted from Blaine’s throat.

“Is that good?” Kurt asked.

“Uh-huh,” was all Blaine could manage.

He rolled the balls one more time, then moved the hand that still rested on Blaine’s thigh to join the one on his cock and let all his fingers trail back up, over the head, then off and away. He sat back on his heels and watched as Blaine’s cock throbbed gently, pushing up against the hard muscles of his abdomen. He waited.

After a moment Blaine’s eyes opened and there was so much need in them that Kurt almost relented and just reached out to stroke him to orgasm. Almost. But Kurt was doing what he wanted now, so instead he smiled at Blaine and said “You can put your clothes back on.”

Blaine’s eyes opened wide and disbelieving and his mouth gaped just a little, but there was neither disappointment nor anger in his expression. No. The look on his face was something else entirely.

For their first Christmas after Kurt’s mom died, Burt had taken him to volunteer at Lima’s only homeless shelter. Kurt had been given the job of handing out presents to the children living there. One tiny girl, he remembered, had clung to her father’s hand, hiding behind his leg but peeking out at a beautiful baby doll with soft blonde curls and a frilly dress. Kurt had picked it up and given it to her with a smile, but the girl hadn’t taken it. She’d simply looked at it, and him, and he could see in her eyes how desperately she wanted it, but that she didn’t dare trust that she’d actually be allowed to have it.

It was the exact look that Blaine was giving him now.

After a moment of silence Blaine spoke. “You said I could ask for things . . .”

“Yes,” Kurt said.

“Could we just . . . maybe could we lie down, hold each other for a while.”

He should have remembered that, Kurt berated himself. Everyone knew subs needed physical contact and comfort after an intense scene or punishment. Blaine was looking a little nervous so Kurt smiled at him. “Sure, of course. Do you want to put your clothes on first or would you rather stay – like that?”

“I’d like to stay like this, if it’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded.

Kurt stood up and reached out his hand to help Blaine. But Blaine grabbed his wrist instead, where his cuff was still buckled over his mark. “Can I . . . ?” he began, caressing the leather with his fingers.

Kurt nodded, and Blaine slowly turned Kurt’s arm over, undid the buckle, and slid the cuff over Kurt’s hand. He set it on the floor and gently caressed the welts, looking up at Kurt with an unspoken plea on his face. And maybe the idea of a psychic connection between soulmates wasn’t hogwash after all because Kurt knew exactly what Blaine was asking for.

“Blaine Anderson,” he said with a smile, reaching out to push sweat-damp tendrils of black curl off of Blaine’s forehead. “Blaine Anderson. Blaine Anderson.”

After the third time Blaine took his hand and pulled himself up off the floor. “Thank you,” he said simply, then led the way across the darkening room and down the little hall to his bedroom.

It was probably a lovely room, but Kurt couldn’t see anything beyond the bed on which he was about to lie down with naked, beautiful Blaine. He kicked his shoes off and went straight to the bed, climbing up, stretching out, and reaching a hand out to Blaine who still hovered in the doorway.

Blaine moved quickly then, climbing up and stretching out alongside Kurt with a sigh, resting his head on Kurt’s chest.

Blaine really did seem to only want to cuddle. His cock was hard against Kurt’s thigh but he made no move to thrust or rub it there, he simply lay in Kurt’s arms, one arm thrown across Kurt’s waist well above where Kurt was also still hard in his jeans.

Kurt should have stopped. He’d as much as told Blaine he wouldn’t be coming, but he was sixteen and in bed with a man – his soulmate – and he was still so turned on. Plus he was following his instincts now, and if those instincts seemed to be coming from his dick, well, that didn’t make them any less right. He reached his free hand to tilt Blaine’s face up and kissed him again, slipping so easily now into Blaine’s open mouth, and then slid his hand down Blaine’s muscled arm, over his hard abs and down one thigh and up the other, teasing around Blaine’s cock without quite touching it. Blaine did thrust then, pushing against Kurt’s leg ever so slightly and whimpering with the effort of holding back.

He shouldn’t do it. He really had no intention of making Blaine come at that moment; it seemed too close to his punishment and probably blurred the lines between punishment and reward in some way that Domming for Dummies would certainly disapprove of. But, really, if he couldn’t touch his sub’s dick when he was hard and naked and practically begging for it, when could he?

That was enough rationalization for Kurt. He let his fingers trail up over Blaine’s cock, oh so lightly, and Blaine moaned out loud and rolled away to lie flat on his back, legs slightly spread and open to Kurt’s touch. He could see the muscles in Blaine’s ass tense and relax with the effort of not pushing up into the teasing hand. There couldn’t possibly be anything in the universe hotter than that, and Kurt’s erection throbbed with renewed energy.

“Kurt,” Blaine panted.

“Hmmm?”

“You should probably stop.”

Kurt’s fingers kept moving feather-light along Blaine’s twitching length. “Why should I stop?”

“Because you don’t want me to come. And I don’t want to disobey you. Not now.”

And that was even hotter. Kurt was starting to realize that he was going to have to come up with an entirely new scale to measure arousal.

He leaned in, teased his lips against Blaine’s ear, and whispered, “Do you have any lubricant?”

Blaine’s eyes flew open and Kurt could see hope there. He had no idea what Blaine was hoping for, but he seemed to be doing okay so far so he didn’t try too hard to figure it out.

“Night stand,” was all Blaine said.

Kurt had to reach over Blaine to get to the bedside table, and when he rested his weight on Blaine’s torso to scrabble in the drawer Blaine hummed a long, slow note that vibrated his body under Kurt’s. Lube in hand, Kurt pushed himself back to his side.

Blaine stared at him like nothing in the world could persuade him to look away. He watched Kurt squeeze some lube onto his hand and his eyes widened as Kurt reached out, slid his palm over Blaine’s erection slowly, once, to spread the lube, then began to pump hard and fast, jerking Blaine at light speed toward orgasm.

“Oh God! Kurt . . .”

“Don’t come. Tell me when to stop.”

Blaine moaned and gasped, one hand clenching at the duvet, the other reaching for Kurt, grabbing at flesh where his fingers found Kurt’s shoulder. He lasted longer than Kurt expected, exhaling on long cries, one of which finally ended in, “Stop . . . Stop . . .”

Kurt pulled his hand away and watched as Blaine’s cock thrust desperately in the air. He was still moaning wantonly and it was overwhelmingly erotic watching Blaine struggle to control his body. Kurt’s was pretty sure he’d never been harder in his life and he was pretty sure this was going to go farther than he’d intended because walking away in the state he was in was so not an option any more.

When Blaine’s body finally began to settle and his breathing slowed from desperate pants to a more normal pattern Kurt reached out and began again with firm, swift strokes of Blaine’s rock hard erection.

“Shit! Fuck . . .” Blaine’s body arched up and the hand on Kurt’s shoulder tightened spasmodically; Kurt was pretty sure he was going to have a lovely bruise on his shoulder tomorrow. His other hand slammed against the headboard, grappling for purchase where there was none to be had.

“Tell me when,” Kurt commanded.

Blaine seemed beyond moaning now, his mouth opened silently and he seemed to be holding his breath – there was no sound at all but the slick squelch of Kurt’s hand dragging Blaine back to the edge of orgasm with relentless drive.

“Now! Stop!” Blaine barely whispered, and again he pumped and fucked upwards when Kurt let go, cock throbbing rhythmically against his belly, and Kurt’s cock was throbbing in sympathy, almost as desperate for release as Blaine. Impulsively, he pressed his mouth to Blaine’s, needing a more immediate physical connection, absorbing Blaine’s moans and straining and need with his own body.

After a moment Blaine pulled back, breathing again in short, sharp gasps, and when he opened his eyes to look at Kurt there was no pleading or anger or even really frustration in his expression. What Kurt found in Blaine’s eyes looked very much like awe.

And suddenly Kurt felt so right that it didn’t seem like a big decision at all to say, “Take my pants off.”

There was no question that Kurt was succeeding in surprising Blaine today, because for the third time that afternoon Blaine gaped at him with wide, shocked eyes that he then quickly closed tight. But Kurt was on a roll and though he obviously had Blaine off-balance, Blaine seemed to be very okay with it.

“What are you waiting for?” he demanded.

Blaine opened his eyes again and his hand, still tight on Kurt’s shoulder, loosened just a tiny bit. “I’m trying not to come,” he confessed.

Kurt arched an eyebrow at him in his best demanding diva look. “All I keep hearing is what a perfect sub you are,” he said. “So get yourself under control and get my freaking pants off!”

Kurt didn’t know where all this out-there dominance was coming from but if it was half as hot for Blaine as it was for him, then Blaine really was a perfect sub; Kurt was about to come in his pants just from hearing himself.

Blaine jumped to obey then, shuffling down to place himself between Kurt’s legs and pulling open the button and zipper on his jeans. He tugged the pants down, but only the pants because Blaine always obeyed orders exactly, and off, taking Kurt’s socks with them. He laid the pants out on the bed next to them and knelt again, making a perfect picture of a submissive there between Kurt’s legs with his head bowed and his dick hard.

“Now the underwear,” Kurt directed.

Blaine still looked shell-shocked, but the ghost of a smile was beginning to tug at his lips. He lifted Kurt’s briefs carefully over his erection and slid them down and off to rest next to the jeans. Kurt, figuring he might as well go all in, popped the first two buttons of his shirt then pushed up enough to pull it over his head. Blaine didn’t move, but he looked like he wanted to eat Kurt alive and his cock kept twitching and pulsing.

Kurt supposed he should have felt exposed, laid out naked and hard in front of Blaine, but points for instinct because it felt so right that he didn’t hesitate to grab the lube he’d used earlier and hold the little bottle out to Blaine, who didn’t seem to be able to drag his eyes away from Kurt’s naked form.

“Take it Blaine. I want your hand. Make me come.” He managed to keep his voice steady and Blaine finally reached for the lube, clutching at Kurt’s hand for just a second as he did. They were both trembling in anticipation now as Blaine slicked his own hand up then hesitated, staring at Kurt with a question in his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was being allowed to do this.

“Go ahead,” Kurt said.

He meant to keep his eyes open and watch his perfect sub give him his first ever hand job, but at the first touch he had to close them, just to let himself feel. Blaine’s hand moved slowly but firmly up and down his length and Kurt had been up and down so much this afternoon, building and backing away, that when the pleasure swelled out to encompass his whole body he simply surrendered to it.

“God, why does that feel so different when someone else does it?” he asked.

Blaine may have chuckled a bit – Kurt’s breath was too loud in his own ears for him to be sure. “Men have been asking themselves that for probably a million years,” he said, and sped up his strokes, his pants coming in time with Kurt’s. When Kurt could no longer hold back soft, breathy moans of pleasure Blaine moaned as well, almost as if Kurt’s pleasure was his own. The intensity seemed to build past the point of endurance; the heat curling in his belly was burning, he had no idea how he hadn’t come already, and Blaine’s caress felt like strength and comfort and love.

When Kurt was at the peak, when he could see and hear and feel the orgasm waiting to smash into his body, Blaine took the smallest of pauses, just letting him hang for a brief moment of forever, then with a twist of wrist and a swipe of thumb Kurt fell over the edge; he stiffened and cried out as waves of pleasure rolled and twisted and spasmed through him. He could hear Blaine’s breath, harsh and heavy, and now it was his turn to grab at the duvet as his release splashed and dripped onto his body in pulse after pulse.

Oh, he was definitely going to need a new scale.

When he finally came back to the world, limp against the mattress, Blaine was gone, but he reappeared in a moment with a damp cloth in his hand and began to gently wipe Kurt’s torso clean. After everything that had happened, this small service was what finally brought home to Kurt that they’d done it. Somehow they’d fumbled their way into their roles as dom and sub. They still needed to talk – there was so, so much to say – but at some fundamental level all the important decisions had been made.

Blaine folded the washcloth carefully and set it on the bedside table. Still panting softly, Kurt held out his arms and Blaine came back to snuggle into Kurt’s side. He was still hard, but he didn’t ask for anything more, just settled with his cock cradled between his own body and Kurt’s. He seemed almost as limp and satiated as Kurt himself, which Kurt’s pleasure-numb brain couldn’t quite figure out. Oh well, one more thing to talk about tomorrow.

Blaine moved slightly, tilting his head up to look at Kurt, and Kurt managed to lift his head enough to press his lips to Blaine’s, and let his tongue slip teasingly past Blaine’s lips in a revisiting of their very first kiss.

“If you ask me,” Blaine whispered as they pulled apart, “I don’t think you’re going to have any problem in your dom classes.”

Kurt giggled, and Blaine gave him that bright-as-sunshine smile then settled on his chest again, apparently very pleased with himself.

The kissing and laughing seemed to get the blood flowing to Kurt’s brain again, even as Blaine settled heavier against his body. He reached up and stroked gently at Blaine’s curls and marveled at the feeling of Blaine’s cock softening against his leg in time to the deepening of his breathing. Somehow, despite being teased and denied while he gave Kurt his mind-blowing orgasm, Blaine had drifted right into sleep.

It was almost fully dark now and Kurt waited until Blaine seemed completely out before he shifted himself out from under his sub, who clutched at his pillow as he moved, and climbed out of the bed. He padded in the dimness out of the bedroom and down the hall. It was strange to walk naked around someone else’s house, feeling the air brush against his still-sensitive skin, but putting on his clothes would have been silly.

He hovered for a moment on the threshold of the living room and surveyed the scene of their struggle, items strewn across the floor like casualties of battle, lit faintly by the last of the sun coming through the thin curtains at the west-facing windows. Blaine’s clothes and shoes shoved under the table by the door. Kurt’s scarf and cuff on the floor by the kitchen, with the wooden spoon discarded nearby. A few steps further and he could see the wrapped box containing the black cuff in the corner of the kitchen where it had fallen after it bounced against the refrigerator.

They were such tiny things, but seeing them there where they’d been left in fear or anger or lust, somehow illustrated in ways Kurt hadn’t fully accepted the enormity of what had happened to him in the past three days. Three days! Just last Thursday Kurt had woken up and gone to school a clueless teenager dreaming of romance and hoping for a Glee solo and enjoying the fact that for some reason the jocks seemed to have forgotten how to torment him. Now here he was naked in Blaine’s apartment, Blaine who he’d spanked and teased (which had been hotter than he’d ever imagined and made Kurt suspect he’d found his first kink), Blaine who’d made him come like he’d never known it was possible to come, Blaine who was asleep in his bed right now waiting for Kurt to come back and hold him. He was a dom. He was Blaine’s dom. He would be Blaine’s dom for the rest of his life.

He was trembling so hard that he had to sit down on the couch, which was probably completely unsanitary in his naked state, but his legs weren’t going to hold him up much longer and he really just needed to take a minute to panic. There was no one to tell, no one to go to for advice or just for a shoulder to cry on, and he felt completely alone.

But that was wrong, he told himself. He wasn’t alone. He had Blaine. And though they were still figuring things out Kurt knew that being soulmates meant that Blaine wasn’t just his perfect sexual partner, he was the perfect emotional partner as well. Blaine was meant to be the love of Kurt’s life and his best friend. They may be baby-stepping their way there, but eventually they would be each other’s everything.

He pushed himself resolutely from the couch and made his way to the kitchen, picking up their clutter as he passed through the room. He set their cuffs side-by-side on the coffee table, his own bright and new next to Blaine’s more time-worn one. The spoon went into the sink. The slightly battered box with the new black cuff joined the others on the table, his scarf he hung with his jacket in the little closet. He retrieved his cell phone from the kitchen counter, thumbed it on and selected a name from his contacts.

“Hello future New York roommate, what can I do for you tonight?” Rachel answered, chipper as always. Hearing her voice was good. There was nothing like a little Rachel Berry insanity to make him feel like the world hadn’t completely tipped off its axis.

“Hey Rach. Okay, don’t freak out.”

“Oh God, what happened?! Is Finn okay?”

“Nothing happened; everything’s fine,” he reassured her. “I just need you to cover for me tonight.”

He was glad he’d called from the kitchen because if he’d been in the bedroom Rachel’s scream would definitely have woken Blaine.

“Oh my God! Kurt! You’re spending the night with him?! Oh my God this is amazing . . .”

“Okay, stop!” Kurt pleaded. “Yes, I need to stay here tonight and I’ll tell my dad the truth tomorrow but for now I can’t take an argument with him. So I just want to tell him I’m with you, okay?”

“Okay? Of course it’s okay! Like I would ever stand between you and sex.”

“It’s not about . . .” but of course it kind of was, so Kurt trailed off and had to endure another ear-splitting squeal when Rachel realized she’d been right.

“This is so exciting Kurt! You deserve every second of it. Of course I’ll cover for you.”

“You’re not hanging with Finn tonight?”

“No, he’s spending the night with Noah, which I was very upset about because I really wanted to see that new horror movie with him, but now I see that fate had a much better use for me tonight and I’m just so . . .”

“Okay, okay Rach,” Kurt interrupted, “I totally owe you. But I have to call my dad and get back to . . .”

“Say no more,” Rachel said. “I’m here for you. Go have fun.” She giggled just a little at the end of that but said goodbye and hung up.

The second call was going to be harder. Kurt hated lying to his dad. But he told himself it was just for tonight. There was no way he could leave Blaine after everything they’d been through, and there was no way his dad would let him stay, even with a truthful explanation, so he really didn’t have a choice.

As luck would have it, Carole answered the phone. It was easier to lie to Carole than it would have been to his dad – Burt had some kind of sixth sense when it came to knowing when something was going on with Kurt – and not only did he manage to get through saying he would be staying with Rachel, he even managed to mention that he’d be bringing a friend over for brunch the next day. His dad would have been all over that, but Carole took it in stride and started calculating how many eggs and pieces of bread she would need.

Phone calls complete, Kurt picked up the pile of Blaine’s clothes, leaving his shoes by the door, and headed back into the bedroom. Blaine was right where Kurt had left him, snuggled up to the pillow Kurt’s head had been on, his loud breathing just shy of being snores. Kurt folded the clothes neatly on the dresser, added his own to the pile, then climbed back into bed, managing to wriggle himself under the covers.

When he tried to take back his pillow Blaine roused just enough to slither under the blanket himself and snuggle back up to Kurt.

“Where’ d you go?” he murmured.

“Just had to make a phone call. Go back to sleep.” Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine again. It wasn’t late, probably not even 7:00 yet, but he felt so drained that he knew he’d have no trouble falling asleep. Blaine was already out again, his body limp and heavy against Kurt’s. Blaine’s weight pushed down on him like a physical reminder of responsibility and duty, but it was also the weight of commitment and partnership.

There were discussions and negotiations still to be had, but if today had proven anything it was that he’d been right the very first day. He really could give Blaine what he needed. He’d just had to figure out that what Blaine said he wanted and what he needed could be two very different things. His last thought, as he drifted away from the waking world, was to wonder if the same was true for himself.