Kurt woke up early, before the alarm, which was why he was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island already halfway through his first cup of coffee when he heard the bedroom door open and feet shuffle through the living room. He didn't look up from the newspaper, but he smiled at it when Blaine's arm wrapped around his waist and his bed-warm body draped itself over Kurt's back. He didn't need to see to know exactly how Blaine must look, sleep-rumpled and lax. Soft lips pressed a kiss to the spot where Kurt's neck met his shoulder, mumbled against the skin there.

“Good morning, master.”

Kurt looked up then, watched from the corner of his eye as Blaine's arms slid away from his waist and a curly head bobbed into view, tipped to one side, drawn like a moth on a summer night across the room toward the caffeine. Blaine fumbled at the coffee pot and when he turned back to Kurt, steaming mug in hand, his eyes were still gentle and unfocused, not quite awake.

Kurt kept silent as Blaine returned to the island for cream and sugar then lifted the cup and breathed in the scent of the coffee, moaning at the aroma. He closed his eyes in blissful abandon and sipped.

“What was that for?” Kurt finally asked.

Blaine opened his eyes. They were still golden soft with sleep, but the fog was starting to thin. “Coffee is the third great love of my life. You know that.”

“Not the coffee. Before.”

“Before?” Blaine set his cup on the counter and reached for the front page of the paper.

“Blaine.”

Blaine's eyes, much clearer now, lifted to Kurt's and one eyebrow pulled up in question.

“You called me master,” Kurt said.

Now both Blaine's eyebrows knit together in the middle of his face. “I did? When?”

“Just now. When you said good morning. You called me master.”

The eyebrows danced up again and Blaine's eyes sparkled, now fully awake. “I don't even remember doing that.” The corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying to suppress a smile and he retreated behind another sip of coffee.

Kurt almost wanted to smile back. It was endearing, the way Blaine was so obviously pleased with himself but also concerned about how Kurt was going to handle his slip. He might have smiled back, if he wasn't hovering so close to total panic. “You've never done that. I mean, you've never done that when we weren't . . . you know.” It was silly not to just say having sex, Kurt knew, but suddenly he was feeling very much like the boy who'd had to practice saying cock in his bedroom mirror. Unsure. Inexperienced. More than a little scared.

Blaine was not having the same problem. His smile finally won out over his concern and blossomed, lighting up his face in the way that only true delight could, and in all their time together Kurt had never been able to stand aloof in the face of Blaine's delight. He didn't smile back, but he also didn't move as Blaine came slowly, seductively around the island. Kurt picked up his coffee cup and held it between them like a shield, but Blaine stopped when his thighs came in contact with Kurt's knees, drawn up on the stool.

“Did you like it?” Blaine asked, soft now from something that definitely wasn't sleep.

“We talked about this Blaine. Back in Lima, when we did the kink list and you brought it up and we agreed we would be careful and not take it too far because we always want to be Kurt and Blaine. We agreed on that. And the fact that it can happen without you even being aware of it, I just . . . it just makes me . . .”

While Kurt babbled, Blaine took the coffee cup from his hand and moved it back to the island, then sidestepped Kurt's knees and shut him up with a kiss, soft and gentle, coffee warm and sugar sweet.

“But did you like it?” he said again.

There was no way to hide from those eyes, so close, always honest.

“Yes,” Kurt breathed.

Blaine smiled again. “Good.”