Kurt watched in his vanity mirror as a dark red flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks. God. He was hopeless.

“Cock!”

He was still trying to wrap his brain around what had happened in Blaine’s office that afternoon. It was kind of a blur of yelling (first Blaine’s, then his) and kissing and heat and arousal. There was only one moment that stood out crystal clear in his head.

Put your hands behind your back.

“Cock!”

The blush spread across his face again and he scrubbed his cheeks with his hands as if he could wipe it away. “Domming for Dummies” had suggested practicing in a mirror if you were uncomfortable with something your partner wanted you to say or do during sex. But he couldn’t even get the word “cock” out – when he was totally alone – without furious embarrassment. The idea of saying something like “suck my cock” to another person was beyond ridiculous. But he was pretty sure all the many men Blaine had talked about playing with had never had a problem with it.

He took a deep breath and faced the mirror again. He was a dom. He’d just had his sub on his knees following orders exactly. Never mind that he had no idea how he’d actually achieved that. He could do this. Blaine needed it. Blaine deserved it.

“Cock!”

The thing was, he had no idea if he’d even managed to claim Blaine in some way as his sub. He’d definitely dominated him. And Blaine had submitted and obeyed, had followed Kurt’s orders to the (completely thrilling) letter. And there had been kissing. Perfect, beautiful kissing. But he’d gone in expecting some kind of official acknowledgement and that definitely hadn’t happened. Things kind of seemed even murkier now. God, could his life get any more complicated?

“Cock!”

“Hey Kurt. What’s going on?”

Kurt spun away from the mirror so fast he almost fell off his chair, his heart doing its best to slam its way out of his chest. He hadn’t expected anyone to be home for another full hour. He hadn’t thought to lock himself in. But football practice must have finished early because Finn’s head was poking around the door. He really just needed the floor to open up and swallow one of them whole. How come that never actually happened?

Finn stood there waiting for an answer and Kurt, after the emotional roller coaster of the day, didn’t have anywhere near the energy to come up with a plausible lie.

“What’s it look like, Finn?”

“It looks like you’re staring at yourself in the mirror saying ‘cock’ over and over.”

“Got it in one,” Kurt muttered. He turned back toward the vanity and watched in the mirror as Finn took a few tentative steps into the room.

“Ooo-kay. Is there something really obvious going on here that I should be getting but I’m not so you’re going to give me tons of crap for it later?”

Kurt sighed and dropped his chin onto his hands. “No Finn. I really am just staring at the mirror and saying ‘cock.’”

“Why?”

“Because how am I ever supposed to dominate someone when I can’t even say that word without blushing like a teenaged virgin?” Kurt regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth. He really didn’t want to share his insecurity with anyone, let alone his brother. His heart sank a little as Finn moved further into the room and settled himself at the end of Kurt’s bed like he planned to stay a while.

“Well, you are a teenaged virgin,” he offered helpfully.

“Yes, thank you for pointing that out.”

“And there’s no rule that says you have to talk dirty you know. That’s not really what it’s about.”

Kurt turned around again so he could look at Finn instead of his reflection. “Oh really? And what is it about, in your vast experience?”

Finn thought a moment, his fingers playing along the lines of stitching in Kurt’s comforter. “I don’t know. I guess it’s mostly about feeling safe.”

That was so unexpected that Kurt’s mouth actually fell open. He had to make a conscious effort to close it. “Safe?”

“Well, yeah. Your dom makes you feel safe so you can let go, you know? Go to that place where everything’s quiet and you don’t really have to think about anything.”

“Subspace?” Kurt knew about subspace. His book had a whole section devoted to it, and several top ten lists.

“I guess,” Finn shrugged. “It’s like all the other stuff is just extra, you know, like bacon and guacamole on a hamburger? It’s fun and, I don’t know, exciting and all. But the safe thing is really what it’s all about.”

Kurt couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation with Finn, of all people. But Finn was really taking it seriously, trying to help, and he was desperate enough to take help wherever it presented itself. He moved over to sit on the bed, pulling a throw pillow onto his lap and wrapping his arms around it.

“So how does she do that? Make you feel safe, I mean?”

“Well . . . let’s see . . . well kneeling just sort of automatically makes you feel safe,” Finn said. “And orders. Letting your dom take control. I’m not sure why, but having someone tell you exactly what to do, for a sub, it’s really cool. It makes you feel cared for.”

Kurt watched Finn’s fingers skitter over the duvet as he tried to understand. “Having someone boss you around and give you orders makes you feel loved?” he asked skeptically.

“Yeah.” Finn gave him a self-conscious smile. “I guess maybe it’s just a sub thing. Does being obeyed make you feel that way?”

Kurt thought about that afternoon. About how much calmer Blaine had been on his knees. How he’d followed Kurt’s commands so specifically. About the surprised surge he’d felt in his chest watching Blaine do that, knowing that his control was helping Blaine get his own equilibrium back. It had turned him on, for sure, but there had been something else, too.

“I guess it does,” he answered. “So, orders yes, dirty talk, no. I won’t deny that’s a relief.”

“Well, dirty talk’s not a requirement. Don’t get me wrong. It can be totally fun. This one time when Rachel . . .”

“No!” Kurt jumped from the bed, pillow flying, and fled to the farthest corner of the room, fingers in his ears. “No details! We’ve had this conversation, Finn.”

“Sorry dude,” Finn laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “No stories, I promise.”

Kurt leaned against the dresser and contemplated his brother. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Finn shrugged. “Sure. Can’t promise I’ll answer, though. There are some things Rachel would kill me for if I told you.”

“Yeah, not that kind of personal.” Kurt picked up a tiny bow-tie pin from the box on his dresser and turned it around and around in his fingers. “She’s not the one, is she?”

For a minute Finn just looked at him and his expression was hard for Kurt to read. There was some pain there, something like regret, maybe a little determination.

“Rachel? No. She’s not.”

“So how does that work?”

Finn shrugged again. “I honestly don’t know, dude. But I know I love her. We’re happy. I mean, some people don’t find their soulmates until they’re old, you know? And I’m not gonna give up something that makes me happy just because her name isn’t on my wrist.”

“But – what happens when one of your soulmates shows up?”

“Well, I guess someone gets to have all their dreams come true, and someone gets their heart broken. At least until they find their own soulmate.”

That sounded so much like wisdom that Kurt couldn’t really believe it was coming out of Finn’s mouth. He felt roundly ashamed of himself. How many times had he asked Rachel to go over the soulmate “rules” with him, never really thinking that the boy she loved wasn’t her soulmate at all? And here he was freaking out because the love of his life wasn’t quite exactly what he’d expected. He was such an idiot. He had his soulmate. Everything else was details.

Finn must have interpreted Kurt’s long silence as a clue that the conversation was over, because he jumped up from the bed. “Okay, well, Super Mario calls. Just don’t say ‘cock’ any more, okay? It kind of creeps me out.”

“Promise,” Kurt nodded. “Hey Finn!” he called his brother back. “Thanks.”

Finn smiled. “Any time.” He held up his fist in front of his face like a microphone. “Finn Hudson for the sub’s perspective!” he said in his best newscaster voice. Then he disappeared up the hall with a grin.

Kurt watched him go, then closed the bedroom door and dug his phone out of his bag. He stretched out on his bed and typed out a text before he could stop himself.

I’m really happy that we found each other. That’s all that matters.

Blaine must have been on top of his phone because the reply came back almost immediately.

I’m so sorry for some of the things I said today. I guess I was kind of in shock.

Don’t apologize. I told you to be honest.

Why was it so much easier this way, communicating from afar with written words instead of spoken ones? He wondered if Blaine was pretending he was texting the imaginary Kurt in his head. He wasn’t sure if it mattered. The silence was longer this time and he was thinking maybe Blaine had said all he was going to say when the next text finally trilled in.

I just need you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.

Kurt smiled at that and took his own long time composing his answer.

You don’t have to do anything, Blaine. Just follow orders, which you’ve already proved you can do. :)

He erased and re-typed the smiley three times before he decided to go with it.

The teacher in me really needs to point out that it’s “proven.” :)

Kurt laughed out loud at that. Some of the tightness from earlier was starting to leave his chest. Maybe he couldn’t say “cock” out loud without blushing, but he could banter gently with his soulmate, and even exchange smiley faces. Maybe they did have a chance of making it work.

As you are my teacher, I give you blanket permission to correct grammatical errors, unscientific conclusions, and historical misrepresentations. You may not, however, criticize my wardrobe.

Thank you, Sir. ;)

It was equally freaky and amazing that one tiny word could make Kurt hard so very quickly.

In the dream, Blaine is lying naked on a soft, luxurious bed. His hands are bound to the bedposts with fleece-lined leather cuffs. The room is dim, lit only by candles placed around the bed. He is waiting for Kurt, but he’s not sure which Kurt: the teenaged, beautiful Kurt who seems to be baby-stepping his way toward being a dom, or the familiar fantasy Kurt who can do absolutely anything Blaine wants him to do, but only in his head.

Four sharp raps break the stillness of the room and the door swings inward. Standing in the opening is neither Kurt nor Kurt, but sweaty Curt from his last, disastrous hookup. He wears a Dalton Academy uniform and he’s holding a large to-go cup of steaming coffee.

Blaine finds himself at a loss for words, too embarrassed to speak. But Curt just moves into the room and sets the coffee down on the nightstand. He steps back and stares at Blaine’s prone form. Blaine is dismayed to find he has the beginnings of an erection.

“You need to drink the coffee, Blaine,” says sweaty Curt.

“I can’t,” Blaine answers, pulling at the cuffs that bind his hands. Suddenly the cuffs are gone and Blaine is sitting up on the bed, wearing his own Dalton uniform, which stretches uncomfortably over his grown-up body.

“Drink,” says Curt again.

“I can’t. He hasn’t given me permission.”

“Who?”

“Kurt. I don’t want to make him angry.”

Curt gives Blaine a look of pure pity; as if Blaine is the single most pathetic creature he’s ever seen. “Don’t you?” he asks but doesn’t wait for the answer before he continues; “Kurt said you could have it.”

Something about his tone makes Blaine ask, “Which Kurt?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

“Interesting.” Curt picks the coffee up from the nightstand. “You know, you really shouldn’t have taken the cuffs off, Blaine. He’ll be angry.”

“I didn’t take them off.”

Curt makes a show of looking around the room. “Well who did then? There’s no one else here, Blaine. You’re the only one who can do it.”

Suddenly Blaine is back on his back, naked, cuffed again as before.

Curt pops the lid off the coffee cup. Blaine can see the steam rising from it.

“Take the cuffs off, Blaine.”

Blaine pulls at the soft cuffs. “I can’t.”

Curt moves closer, holding the cup of hot coffee out over Blaine’s naked chest. Blaine pulls frantically at the cuffs.

“Take them off, Blaine. No one else is going to do it. You’re going to get the coffee one way or another . . .” He begins to tilt the cup over Blaine’s heaving body.

Blaine is desperate now, tugging at the cuffs as hard as he can, as if he can break them by sheer force. But they hold.

“Please!” he cries. “I’m trying! I just don’t know how.”

Curt shakes his head, an expression of infinite sadness on his face. “I don’t believe you, Blaine,” he says as he tips the cup all the way forward. Blaine sucks in a breath to scream as the scalding liquid trembles at the rim of the cup then falls forward in slow motion and

Blaine woke with a gasp, his whole body contracted in one corner of his bed, panting and trembling. The strains of the second movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata, playing on his phone’s alarm, pounded around the walls, picking up the rhythm of his pounding heart.

Friday morning. His first full day at McKinley. His first full day of Kurt.