They’d dozed for a bit, then showered (separately, because Kurt wasn’t quite ready for co-showering and Blaine had to admit that he, too, was grateful for a little privacy to bask in his feelings), then he’d managed to persuade Kurt that they’d be much more comfortable back in pajama bottoms. So they’d been lounging on the couch drinking hot tea that Blaine made for them when Kurt asked him to play something on the piano.

At first he’d been at a loss for what to choose. He considered some showy pieces, or something he could sing along to, but finally selected the simple love theme from an old French movie that was one of his favorite songs to play, and seemed to perfectly fit the mood of lounging with your lover on a Sunday afternoon. Kurt had sat on the floor next to the piano, leaning against the wall so he could watch Blaine as he played, but eventually closing his eyes to let the hypnotic music wrap around him. Blaine played the song three times through without pausing just so he could keep watching Kurt swaying gently, the pale skin of his chest contrasting with the black pajama pants, losing himself in the sound Blaine created. The piano was an extension of himself and watching Kurt respond to the music that Blaine was making was like watching him respond to Blaine’s own hands on his body. It was a new kind of gift to give the boy who was becoming his everything.

Then he’d asked Kurt to sing for him and had happily played the opening bars of “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina,” but after only a few measures his hands had slipped from the keys and Kurt was forced to continue a cappella because Blaine had completely forgotten how to play the song. He’d never in his life heard a voice like Kurt’s. The high, clear purity of it seemed like the perfect embodiment of Kurt himself. If he hadn’t already been falling in love with Kurt, that voice would definitely have pushed him over the edge.

Eventually they’d ordered a pizza and settled on the couch to laugh at reality TV and, as Kurt tartly remarked, absorb a week’s supply of cheese and processed meat. At some point eating pizza had turned into cheesy, spicy kisses and Blaine had found himself with a lapful of hard-again Kurt (another reason to be grateful his soulmate was sixteen) grinding gently down onto him while Blaine’s hands slipped under the pants and Kurt’s briefs to caress his ass and encourage him on.

So Kurt had been forced to go home commando, his underwear once again agitating with Blaine’s in the washing machine.

They’d talked on the phone for almost two hours that night, topics ranging from why Rachel Berry was somehow simultaneously the world’s best and most infuriating best friend to how Blaine’s parents always managed to make him feel inferior to his older brother even though he knew they approved of his life choices more than Cooper’s. Eventually their conversation turned to teasing innuendo and Blaine could have sworn by the tone of Kurt’s voice that he was touching himself while they talked. And although Kurt’s recovery time was starting to worry him (seriously – again? He’d already come three times that day) the realization that he himself was no longer free to do the same soon had Blaine hard as well.

When he’d drifted off to sleep his hard-on was not at all desperate, just a sort of gentle, comforting reminder of his submission to Kurt. And when his alarm woke him Monday morning he was still basking in the afterglow of Kurt. The glow started to wear off, though, after Blaine showered and buckled the black cuff back on over his mark.

Deciding what to wear was a challenge. Long sleeves that would help him avoid too much attention to his new status might also make Kurt think he was trying to hide it. But short sleeves left him feeling like he was wearing a neon sign flashing “Claimed! Claimed! Claimed!” He settled on a dark purple short-sleeved polo under a silver-gray cardigan with tight sleeves that he could push up to three-quarter length. But as he surveyed himself in the mirror over his dresser it all felt like the wrong kind of compromise. Keeping the secret had been his idea – so why did it rub him the wrong way all of the sudden?

When he arrived early at McKinley Kurt was waiting for him at his office door just as he’d been on Friday morning, but this time there was no coffee and no self-conscious pose against the wall. Instead he was fidgeting with his bag and almost bouncing as if he was overflowing with energy that he didn’t know what to do with. And then there were the pants. Today’s pants were leather. Black, painted-on leather.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Blaine asked, trying and failing to not stare at Kurt’s crotch as he fumbled for his office key.

Kurt double-checked the currently deserted hallway. “I guess I woke up feeling a little – aggressive, this morning,” he said, touching Blaine’s black cuff by way of explanation.

Right. Because everyone would see that Blaine was claimed but no one would know it was Kurt who’d claimed him. He was grateful for the decision to not cover the cuff because Kurt was impatiently caressing his arm above and around it as he worked the lock. As soon as the door opened he slipped his fingers under the leather and tugged Blaine inside the door by it.

“Wait . . . keys . . . .” Blaine reached back around the door to pull the key back out of the lock. He had barely closed the door when Kurt slammed into him from behind, pushing him face-first into the door with a thump, and latched onto the skin behind Blaine’s ear with lips and teeth and hot breath. Kurt was marking him, Blaine realized, and he turned his head to give Kurt better access and moaned softly as Kurt captured his hands from behind and held them crossed at the small of his back, still sucking fiercely at the spot on the back of his neck.

With the sharp pain of the biting suction came the realization that he needed this as much as Kurt did. Blaine wanted to keep the secret, he needed to, really, but the sub in him definitely didn't like denying what Kurt was to him. Kurt’s punishing assault on his neck felt completely right. “God, yes,” he whispered. “Thank you . . .”

Kurt actually growled and sucked harder, working at Blaine’s neck until the combination of the hot, sharp sensation on his skin, his tightly restrained hands, and the press of his groin against the hard door made him whine, high and needy. Then in a sharp move Kurt let go of his neck, and backed up enough to flip Blaine around, pulling his hands forward and up to pin against the door over his head. He had a look of such intense possession on his face that Blaine found he could barely breathe in the face of it. He was torn between feeling guilty that it was his cowardice that was causing Kurt to have all these feelings, and just desperately wanting Kurt to channel all of that frustration into his body: kissing, touching, taking, even hurting, if that’s what Kurt needed to do. Almost none of which was going to happen in this tiny office right before school started.

“I’m yours,” he said, trying to reassure Kurt as much as mere words could. “I’m yours no matter who knows or doesn’t know. Just because it’s a secret doesn’t make it any less real.”

Kurt’s hands loosened on his and he stared deeply into Blaine’s eyes, looking for what, Blaine wasn’t sure. Reassurance? Honesty? Blaine brought one hand down to stroke his fingers over Kurt’s cheekbone and down the back of his neck, nudging him closer until finally their lips met and Blaine was ready for an onslaught but the kiss was gentle and sweet and left him longing for more as Kurt pulled away. And for some reason that was what finally made Kurt smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just didn’t expect how much this would get inside my head.”

Blaine shook his head and let the fingers on Kurt’s neck trail down his arm to clasp his hand. “No, I’m sorry. I know it feels like I want to keep this secret because I’m ashamed of you and that’s not it, I swear, Kurt.” The fact that Kurt wouldn’t quite meet his eyes told Blaine that he was right. “But this is my job. If I lose those kids’ respect then I have no authority and I can’t do my job. I like teaching and I think I’m good at it . . .”

“You are, of course you are . . .” Kurt finally looked at him again.

“And I just don’t want to mess with a good thing, okay? I know I should be stronger and braver for you, I’m sorry . . .”

“No.” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand and shook his head. “I understand. I really do. I just don’t think my dom hormones understand as much as my brain does.” He smiled the insecure, lopsided smile that Blaine hadn’t seen for a while. “You’re amazing Blaine, and I’d deal with worse than this if I had to, to be with you.”

Blaine stretched up to bump Kurt’s nose with his own. “Well feel free to take your dominance out on my neck any time you need to. Or any other part of me.”

“Oh, God!” Kurt dropped Blaine’s hand and turned his head to the side to inspect the mark he’d left behind Blaine’s ear.

“How’s it look?” Blaine asked.

“Actually, I think it’s pretty impressive work for a teen virgin.”

Blaine smiled, relieved that Kurt seemed to be getting his equilibrium back. “Okay, you know you’re not a virgin any more, right?” he teased.

Kurt pulled back a little bit and his eyebrows came together in a frown. “Well, we haven’t had sex.”

Blaine’s own eyebrows shot up in surprise. “None of what we did this weekend felt like sex to you?” he asked.

“You know what I mean.”

Blaine tried to suppress his grin because the last thing he needed was for Kurt to think he was laughing at him. “Okay,” he said, “for straight people I guess there’s one thing they can do that they call sex and maybe nothing else counts. But that’s not us. We can do all kinds of things and plenty of guys never have – intercourse – at all.” He couldn’t resist letting his free hand stroke down Kurt’s back and over his ass in those impossible pants. “I don’t know about you, but I had amazing sex this weekend.” He tugged Kurt closer so their lips were almost touching. “And I’m pretty sure that was you coming down my throat, so I’m going to say you did too. You’re still my teenaged dom,” he moved his mouth around to whisper in Kurt’s ear, “but you’re totally not a virgin anymore.”

Kurt looked surprised for about a half a second, then he suddenly burst into laughter and collapsed into the little chair opposite the desk and hiding his hands in his face.

“Ooo-kay,” Blaine said hesitantly. “Is this another dom hormone thing that I should be worried about? You’re not hysterical, are you?”

Kurt looked up at him, still laughing, and the hand pressed to his mouth came away long enough for him to gasp out, “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

Blaine was still baffled. “Right.”

“And my dad said . . . that I . . . looked different . . .” Each word seemed funnier than the last to Kurt and tears were starting to fill his eyes. “And he thought . . . it was just because I was growing up . . . but I wasn’t . . . a virgin . . .”

Blaine didn’t try to figure it out. He just tried to be glad that Kurt was laughing now instead of burning up from the inside out with dominant intensity. He had a feeling it was going to turn out to be an interesting day.

The lightening of Kurt’s mood that laughing over his dad’s inadvertent clich�d comment had brought didn’t even last halfway through first period. He had dragged all of his books with him that morning from class to class, determined to avoid his locker and Rachel. He wasn’t at all sure, with the mood he was in, that he wouldn’t blurt the whole thing out the minute he laid eyes on her. He hadn’t anticipated the kind of feelings he’d woken up to that morning. They’d agreed not to go public and up until this morning all Kurt had felt about that was a kind of sad regret that Blaine didn’t feel ready to acknowledge him. But he understood. It was logical, for someone in Blaine’s position, not to want to risk the problems that being with a student, even as soulmates, could cause for him. But this morning he’d woken up with some kind of dominant monster trying to claw its way out of his chest. It had absolutely roared “MINE” in his head when he’d seen Blaine in the pushed-up sleeves that proudly displayed his new status for all to see (and thank God for those sleeves because if it had looked like Blaine was trying to hide the cuff he might not have sleeves any more).

Even after all this weekend had brought, he’d never really felt anything as intense as when he’d had Blaine up against the door. The need to mark had been overwhelming and completely instinctual. He wasn’t sure he liked that: feeling completely taken over by urges that he didn’t fully consciously understand. And even now it all prickled in the back of his brain – the feeling that something was wrong, off, the universe was tilted and really needed to be shoved back in to alignment.

So he avoided all of his friends, Rachel most carefully because she already knew something was up, and fumbled through his classes with the only thought in his head that each new class period more students were noticing Blaine’s cuff, pointing it out and maybe asking Blaine questions about his new status. The teachers would have already noticed, in the break room, and Kurt could imagine the handshakes and pats on the back and friendly inquiries that Blaine would have to make up lies to answer.

Halfway through geometry he found himself rocking agitatedly back and forth and had to force his body back under control. He had to find a way to get past this. The idea of going public terrified Blaine and Kurt understood, he did, and he’d promised Blaine this one thing and Blaine had come so very far in just two days towards trusting and completely accepting Kurt and there was no way he was going to let stupid dom hormones screw it up. He was Kurt Hummel. He’d managed to control his sub all weekend. He could certainly control himself.

As long as he didn’t have to talk to Rachel.

So he lingered over his clean up in home ec (and actually considered skipping history altogether, if it wasn’t for that stupid test) and walked slowly enough that he arrived at the classroom just as the bell was ringing. Rachel was already in her seat and Blaine was there as well, arranging the pile of test papers. Kurt had to stop and clutch the doorjamb at the sight of the black cuff, so open and obvious on his bare arm, and the glimpse he could get from this position of the angry red mark on Blaine’s neck.

“Well somebody had a big weekend, I see,” said a voice in his ear.

He turned, startled, and found Puck behind him grinning lasciviously. “What are you talking about?” he asked defensively, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Puck nodded in Blaine’s direction and said in a voice that was just loud enough to hear in the classroom, “Black cuff. Somebody got cl-aaaaimed.”

Blaine looked up at that and his face went a tiny bit red and Kurt could feel his fingernails digging into the fake wood of the doorjamb. Crap. He could do this. He took a deep breath. He was not going to allow his hormones to ruin his life.

Blaine, to his credit, sounded completely normal when he said, “Noah, Kurt, would you like to join us?”

Kurt took a deep breath and followed Puck into the room. Rachel was staring daggers at him, but Blaine had already started handing out tests, face down on everyone’s desks, so she thankfully had no chance to attack. The most she could manage was to whisper under her breath, “What’s going on? I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

“Lunch, I promise,” Kurt whispered back.

Jenn Gibbs seemed to be absent, so there was no buffer between Kurt and Puck, who didn’t have Rachel’s sense of propriety where classroom behavior was concerned. When Blaine passed by his desk with the test paper, Puck couldn’t resist commenting again. “Way to go, Mr. A.”

Blaine didn’t respond, just kept moving along the row, and Kurt reached over to smack Puck’s arm with the back of his hand. “Hey. Leave him alone.”

“Ouch! What?” Puck rubbed his arm.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Please! If it was Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury you’d be all over it. You’d have half of Glee Club singing about how romantic it was.”

As Blaine finished with the papers and walked back to his desk, Kurt found himself nibbling on his thumbnail, which was definitely not a good sign. He only ever did that when he was feeling especially out of control.

“I’m sorry!” Puck said, completely out loud now, “I just think when someone meets their soulmate and gets claimed and all it’s at least worth a fist bump.”

“You think passing gas is worth a fist bump,” Rachel said. Kurt gave her a grateful look, but she was staring at him with narrowed eyes like she was trying to figure out what was going on.

Blaine finally decided to take control. “Yes, Noah, thank you. I obviously did meet my soulmate recently and . . .” he held up his arm to indicate his cuff. “And that’s really all there is to it. No big deal.”

“Was it completely romantic?” One of the girls in the back of the room asked. “Is she really your perfect match?”

Kurt spun around to glare at whoever had spoken and practically bit through his cheek with the effort to control himself.

“Yes, it was romantic and yes, he is completely perfect.” Kurt could hear a placating tone in Blaine’s voice that seemed to be for him alone.

“He definitely gives a perfect hickey,” Puck hissed under his breath at Kurt.

“Oh, God, Noah, shut up!” Kurt said, not at all under his breath. “Not everybody wants to hear what goes on in your filthy brain, okay?!”

Rachel put a hand on Kurt’s arm and he turned on her, adrenaline was taking over and he was ready to fight anyone, even his best friend. But the shock on her face brought him back to his senses enough to settle down in his seat. Enough to watch as her eyes moved between angry Kurt and the teacher who was carefully not looking at him and her look of shock changed to one of slowly dawning comprehension.

Crap. Rachel knew.

He expected her to scream with excitement or hug him or something equally obvious and non-stealthy, but her hand dropped from his arm and she turned her stunned look toward the front of the room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Anderson, do I have time to go to the restroom while you take attendance?”

“Sure, Rachel, go ahead.” He let looking at Rachel give him an excuse to also look at Kurt with the tiniest plea in his eyes. As Rachel headed out the door, Kurt wrapped his hands around his seat and took some deep breaths. His mind was in turmoil and he wanted to cry because he didn’t see how he could do this. But he’d promised Blaine. But Rachel knew.

He took out his number two pencil and stared at it. Memorized it. Concentrated with perfect attention on the green bands around the base, the brick red color of the eraser, the perfect point at the end. He just needed to find a way to get his equilibrium back and get through this damn class and then he and Blaine were going to do some serious renegotiating at lunchtime.

Rachel returned with perfect timing just as Blaine was finishing up attendance, and though she looked perfectly normal Kurt could see her hands trembling a little as she fished out her own pencil. But she gave him a genuine smile and whispered “We’re so talking later” under her breath. He nodded at her and flipped over his paper at Blaine’s direction to begin a test he already knew he was going to fail.

He was about four questions in, with no idea what he’d written for any of them, when Mr. Schuester appeared at the door, knocking lightly on the jamb, and went straight to Blaine to whisper in his ear. Blaine’s eyes widened a little, and he glanced briefly at Kurt but then just nodded at Mr. Schue and left the room.

There was no chance of Kurt concentrating on his test now. He forced himself to stay quiet and wait for some kind of explanation, but Mr. Schue just settled himself at Blaine’s desk and started scribbling notes on a piece of paper, humming under his breath. Finally Kurt couldn’t stand it any longer and he raised his hand. “Excuse me, Mr. Schue. Where did Bl . . . Mr. Anderson go?”

“That doesn’t really concern you, Kurt. Just finish your test.”

Kurt was seriously abusing his thumbnail now and one foot was bouncing up and down without his permission. He lasted about twenty seconds before he tried again. “Mr. Schue . . .”

The teacher looked up with a sigh. “Principal Figgins just needed to talk to him for a minute. I’m sure he’ll be right back.”

Mr. Schue was probably right. It was probably nothing. The feeling Kurt had that something terrible was happening was just the monster inside him making a mountain out of a molehill. There was just some paper that had to be signed, or some piece of information missing from his file. It was nothing. Blaine was fine. He was going to sit here and pretend to finish his test and Blaine would walk in at any second and he’d laugh at himself for freaking out.

His resolve lasted three whole minutes, during which the monster paced and growled and told Kurt that a good dom, a real dom, would go protect his sub from whatever he was enduring at the hands of Principal Figgins. And Kurt found he agreed with the monster.

Without another thought he was up out of his seat and out the door, ignoring Mr. Schuester’s voice calling him back. He left all this things behind and practically ran through the maze of halls to the office. He arrived out of breath, his heart slamming around in his chest with the effort and anxiety and probably some overdramatic adrenaline response fueled by his out-of-control emotions. He paused in the outer office long enough to look around. Through the glass wall separating Principal Figgins’ office from the rest of the room he could see Blaine standing on the far side of the room, saying something to the principal who was seated at his desk. There was someone else in the room as well, he could see the feet and legs of someone sitting on the couch, but a file cabinet blocked his view of the rest of whoever it was.

He didn’t hesitate, just pushed through the little swinging door into the back part of the office and marched straight toward the principal’s door.

“Hey! You can’t go in there!” Miss Bates called out frantically, but he ignored her and burst into the room to catch Principal Figgins mid-sentence. Three pairs of eyes turned astonished looks on him and suddenly Kurt’s heart plummeted because he completely understood.

The other shoe had dropped.

The person sitting on the couch looking perfectly earnest and concerned was Dave Karofsky.

Kurt recovered fast. He turned on Dave and let all the morning’s pent-up emotions fly.

“What the hell, Karofsky? Did you do this to Dr. Fletcher too? He didn’t even touch you, did he? So getting one teacher fired wasn’t’ enough for you? Or is this about me?” He thought Dave might have flinched a little at that, but he ignored it and turned on Principal Figgins who was waving off Miss Bates’ apologies. “Doesn’t it seem a little suspicious to you that the same thing happens to him twice in less than a week?” he demanded.

Principal Figgins just kept his calm gaze on Kurt until Miss Bates had retreated and closed the door behind her. “Mr. Hummel,” he said quietly, “Mr. Karofsky has made a serious accusation against Mr. Anderson.”

Kurt really looked at Blaine then, and the misery and fear on Blaine’s face made him shake even harder with anger. “Blaine never touched him,” he insisted.

“Mr. Karofsky has not accused Mr. Anderson of inappropriate behavior with himself. He has accused Mr. Anderson of inappropriate behavior with you.”

For a minute Kurt couldn’t even understand what the principal had said. He stood with his mouth hanging open, still trembling with the need to protect and defend his sub, then he took one more look at the pain on Blaine’s face and the monster in his chest that had been itching for a fight all day took over completely and it had the perfect target. He rounded on Karofsky, fists clenched and teeth gritted.

“What is wrong with you?!” he ground out, looming above Karofsky, whose cowering back into the cushions did nothing to assuage Kurt’s fury. “God, I know you hate me but what the hell did Blaine ever do to you? Or do you have to destroy anyone who comes in contact with me just on principle?”

David’s eyes never rose beyond Kurt’s knees, but he spoke in a very small voice. “Kurt, I’m sorry, but . . . I saw you. Friday in the parking lot and . . . and this morning.”

“Oh my God, are you stalking me now?”

“I just . . . I know how it feels . . . when someone pushes you that way . . . Dr. Fletcher . . .”

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, I know you’re stupid, but even you had to have notice that I’m a dom! He’s the sub. I’m not you, Karofsky, and Blaine sure as hell isn’t Dr. Fletcher. You have no idea what you’ve done!”

Principal Figgins cleared his throat to bring Kurt’s attention back to himself. “So what you are saying, then, is that there is no inappropriate relationship between yourself and Mr. Anderson.”

Kurt nodded once, fiercely. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“So Mr. Karofsky is mistaken and nothing of a sexual nature has ever occurred between you?” the principal continued.

Fuck.

Kurt stood poised on a knife’s edge of uncertainty. He’d promised. He’d promised Blaine that they could keep things secret. He’d promised he’d keep Blaine safe from the censure he feared would automatically follow any revelation of their relationship. All he had to do was tell one small lie to the principal which, he told himself, was really okay because as a dom his first duty was to his sub.

But he couldn’t do it. Maybe it was the fierce dominance he’d been struggling with all morning but to say that little word, no, was more than a lie. It was a denial of Blaine and himself and the wonderful, amazing thing that was happening between them. And he couldn’t do it. He could not and would not deny his sub in the face of that direct question, even if it was what Blaine said he wanted. The other three were silent but their expressions egged him on. Principal Figgins looked like he was expecting the lie, and would welcome the opportunity to just put this all behind them. Blaine was begging Kurt with his eyes; his fear was palpable. And Karofsky almost cowered on the couch, like he’d actually thought he was doing something right but it had all gone horribly wrong. If he could just say no they could go back to class and this would all be over.

Instead, he turned and loomed again over the miserable-looking boy on the couch. “Leave,” he said.

“Dude, I . . .”

“Get. Out.” Kurt put every ounce of dominant command he could into the two words, and given how he’d been feeling all day that was quite a bit. He was sure he heard Karofsky whisper “Yes, Sir,” under his breath as he shot out of his seat and through the glass door.

Kurt took a deep breath and turned to Blaine, who still looked miserable although realization was also starting to dawn. He tried to communicate silently all the things he couldn’t actually say out loud. “I’m sorry. There’s no other way. Please trust me.” He thought Blaine’s head shook the tiniest bit but he had to ignore it. He wouldn’t tell the lie that would get them off the hook, and the only way to tell the truth without causing serious trouble for Blaine was to tell the whole truth.

“Give me your hand,” he commanded, trying with everything he had to sound strong and sure.

Blaine obeyed.

Staring as openly as he could into his sub’s pleading golden eyes, Kurt undid the buckle on the black cuff and slipped it off Blaine’s trembling arm. He tried to smile reassuringly as he tilted his head in Principal Figgins’ direction. Blaine’s lips pressed tight together, but he turned and held up his arm, just as he’d done for Kurt that first day in his office, so the principal could read Kurt’s name on his wrist.

Figgins nodded. “Well. That changes things significantly. Of course, I’m going to have to ask to see your mark as well, Mr. Hummel. Unique as you may be, you’re not the only Kurt Hummel in the world, I’m sure.”

Kurt reached out to set Blaine’s black cuff on the edge of the principal’s desk then turned back to his sub. “Go ahead,” he said and held his own arm out.

Blaine was still shaking enough that the buckle gave him some trouble, but he didn’t look at it to help himself; he kept his eyes locked on Kurt’s until the cuff was pulled off and Kurt took it from him with a grateful smile and turned to set it, too, on the desk before raising his arm to show his mark.

Principal Figgins raised an eyebrow and nodded. “All right then. Well. Happy ending for everyone, right?” Kurt was astonished that he could be so oblivious to the tension in the room. He’d just completely betrayed Blaine’s trust, but hey, Principal Figgins didn’t have to deal with another inappropriate teacher so . . . happy ending. He nodded.

“Of course,” Figgins continue, “I will have to speak to the school district and see exactly what the policy is in such a situation, but you are clearly soulmates so I don’t anticipate any trouble.” His smile widened and he pushed himself up from his desk. “No, no trouble at all. I’ll just use Miss Bates’ phone to call and give you two some time to . . . get yourselves back together.”

As the glass door closed Kurt could hear Blaine moving behind him but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He couldn’t face it. He’d done exactly what he’d promised Blaine they wouldn’t do. He’d punished Blaine for failing his first real test of submission but even though Kurt knew he hadn’t had any real choice, he felt like he’d failed a test of his own. Wouldn’t a good dom have found a way to keep his sub safe while at the same time honoring his promise? How could Blaine ever trust him again? If he turned around and saw what he feared – that brick wall coming back up behind Blaine’s eyes – he knew he was going to burst into tears right there.

But the only thing worse that what he’d done to Blaine was not facing the consequences. He turned around.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek until pain flared to hold back the tears.

Blaine looked miserable. He was scared, anxious, angry, worried, sad, resigned. Kurt could see just about every negative emotion there was on Blaine’s face. But he could see them. Because Blaine wasn’t hiding. Blaine was on his knees, face turned up to Kurt, showing him everything. Offering all of his feelings up to Kurt and begging silently for Kurt’s help. He was turning to Kurt with all of his fears and under everything he could see . . . trust. Blaine believed in him. He still believed, in all of his fear and misery, that Kurt was the one who could give him what he needed.

For the first time Kurt understood in all of its powerful and wondrous force, that Blaine was his.

Kurt bit his cheek harder. Bursting into open sobs was so not the right thing to do at this moment.

Neither was falling to his knees and taking Blaine in his arms. He knew instinctively that was wrong. Instead he shifted his body so that he was between Blaine and the secretaries sitting on the other side of the glass wall and reached out to take Blaine’s face in his hands. Blaine’s eyes slipped closed momentarily when Kurt touched him, then he opened them again and they were a tiny bit clearer, as if Kurt’s touch was already grounding him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kurt said quietly. “I promise, Blaine. You’re an amazing teacher and nobody’s going to disrespect you because of me. I won’t let them. I swear to God, I will kick the ass of anyone who tries.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Blaine’s lips. “You have a lot of talents,” he said shakily, “but I don’t really think ass kicking is one of them.”

“Then I’ll get Puck to do it,” Kurt smiled back gently, “or Karofsky. He owes us.

Blaine shook his head. “Not him. I don’t want him getting the wrong idea. You’re mine.”

“He doesn’t . . .”

“I saw the way he submitted to you. He does.” Blaine’s eyes were full of emotion. “Who wouldn’t?”

Kurt’s hands tightened a little and his fingers curled in Blaine’s hair. “I’m so sorry about all this. I know I probably should have just lied to him, but I couldn’t.”

“I didn’t want you to,” Blaine said quickly, shaking his head again. “I was scared for people to know, but when he asked you that, I was more afraid of the lie. It’s hard enough as it is, Kurt. If we can’t be who we are to each other, that’s just one more thing other people can use to hurt us. I was wrong to want to keep us a secret.”

“No! You were just afraid. I get that.”

Blaine smiled for real now, and held up his right hand to be cuffed. “Well, I’m not going to be afraid any more. How can I be, with you to take care of me?”

Kurt turned back to the desk and picked up Blaine’s cuff. When he turned back to see his sub looking up at him with perfect trust one last realization struck him in a blinding flash of insight and he had to fight back tears yet again while he desperately wished they were anywhere but Principal Figgins’ glass-walled office.

Because this was it. Despite all they’d done over the weekend, the punishment and the declarations and the sex and Blaine’s acceptance of the black cuff, this was their claiming. When they put on their cuffs and walked out the glass door it was together in every way. No more walls or secrets. Open for everyone to see. Someday when they told their grandchildren this story they’d probably laugh at how their defining moment had happened with only a glass partition between them and the curious stares of busy secretaries and misbehaving students and teachers wandering in to check their in boxes, but right now Kurt just fervently wished they were alone.

Blaine looked back up at him, open and serious, and Kurt could tell that he’d begun to understand the significance of the moment as well. “It’s okay,” he said with a tiny glance at the outer office, “go ahead.” So Kurt took his hand and slid the cuff onto his wrist.

“I promise you,” Kurt said, still gripping the black cuff that hung loose on Blaine’s arm, “that I will take care of you and protect you and always, always keep you safe. I’ll never let you be alone again, I swear.” Blaine’s free hand came up to press against Kurt’s and Kurt finally lost his battle to keep the tears away – they filled his eyes and one or two trickled over down his cheeks. “And I promise we’ll do absolutely everything you want to do, eventually. We’ll make a contract and a huge list of things to try and I swear we’ll do them all. And . . . and toys! I promise there’ll be toys, boxes of them, as soon as I’m ready. Cuffs and paddles and . . . and hot pink vibrating dildos if that’s what you want.” They both laughed at that and Kurt loosened his grip on Blaine’s hand just long enough to wipe at his damp cheeks. “I’m going to be the dom you need, Blaine. I swear I am.”

“You already are,” Blaine said as Kurt finally tightened the cuff on his arm.

Kurt turned back to the desk to pick up his own cuff and held it out. “Here, do me.”

Blaine took the cuff and Kurt’s left hand, and slipped the leather into place. “I promise,” he said with a breath, “to trust you. To always trust you and believe in you and obey you. I promise not to hide from you ever again, that’s over. I’m yours forever, Kurt. You and me, from now on.” He looked down to fasten the clasp and then looked back up with twinkling eyes. “And I promise to let you torture me with that dildo as long as you want and love every second of it.”

“Yes you will,” Kurt said with mock seriousness as he pulled Blaine up to standing again. They just stood there, staring at each other, doing the lovesick puppy thing again, and Kurt thought this moment couldn’t really get any more perfect.

Then Blaine reached out and tenderly cupped Kurt’s cheek with his cuffed hand and said, “I love you so much.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide.

“You look just like a baby owl,” Blaine said happily, stroking over the arch of Kurt’s eyebrow and down his cheek.

“Oh, that’s very sexy, thank you.”

“On you it is,” Blaine said.

“Is it true?” Kurt had to ask.

“Of course it is. Everything is sexy on you.”

“You know what I mean.” Kurt said with mock severity.

“Of course it’s true,” Blaine said. “You’re my soulmate. That makes you the love of my life. I know. I looked it up.” He suddenly burst into delighted laughter. “I’m so in love with you!”

“I love you too,” Kurt breathed. He kissed Blaine swiftly then pulled him into his arms. And they stood like that; gripping each other tightly until they heard the door open and Principal Figgins cleared his throat. They parted then, but Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine’s and squeezed tight.

“Well, good news for everyone, the district agrees that in the case of soulmates no special action needs to be taken.” He seemed quite pleased with himself, as if he’d solved the whole problem single-handedly. “Of course, it would be unethical to have your own submissive evaluating your academic performance, Mr. Hummel,” he told Kurt, “so tomorrow you will be transferred to Mrs. Delportillo’s history class.”

“That’s fine,” Kurt said.

“And it would be appreciated if you could keep any overt displays of dominance or such things to a minimum, at least where you can be seen by others. But all in all, I don’t think this could have ended more perfectly!”

“Neither do I,” Blaine said, tightening his grip on Kurt’s hand.

“For now, though, you can both return to Mr. Anderson’s classroom. Just for today.”

Kurt paused just long enough to offer the principal a very sincere thank you, then pulled Blaine by the hand through the door and the outer office.

“Kurt, slow down!” Blaine pleaded breathlessly as Kurt dragged him down the hall toward his classroom.

“I can’t!” Kurt turned around and kept walking backwards so he could face his beautiful, perfect sub. “I’m so happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life.” And it was true. The monster in his chest had transformed into a purring kitten and Blaine was the most amazing, lovely creature in the universe and now he had the happy task of telling everyone he knew that the world’s hottest, most perfect sub belonged to him.

The hallway they were in was deserted, so he took the opportunity to kiss Blaine again, a proper claiming kiss, deep and hot and Blaine responded with his whole body, wrapping around Kurt and pulling him as close as he possibly could. And when they both were breathless and giggling like schoolgirls Kurt tugged at Blaine’s hand and continued to pull him along the corridor toward the classroom where it had all begun.