Kurt trailed long, lithe, manicured fingers down the length of the thick mahogany conference table with a wide-eyed, suggestive look of admiration. He hummed appreciatively as he thoroughly examined it, pressing his weight down on it to test its stability, crouching down to look underneath to see where the legs connected, occasionally bending low to smell the wood with a satisfied smile on his face, all to the amused grins (and a handful of sneers) of the cast and crew of Sing, who had assembled along with their agents and lawyers for the meeting.

Blaine sidled up to his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his waist, holding tight and resting his head against Kurt's spine.

"This is an amazing table," Kurt exclaimed in a voice that sounded more like a carefully guarded moan. He wrapped his arms over Blaine's, rubbing along his forearms with firm strokes of his talented fingers.

"Are you getting ideas?" Blaine asked, praying silently that Kurt might actually come up with a few.

"Mm-hmm," Kurt affirmed, turning his head slightly to peek over his shoulder at his sub. "I'm imaging a medium gauge rope, about a dozen carabiners…maybe a leather harness…"

Kurt talked conversationally, not at all concerned that an entire room of non-dom/non-sub people were sitting in the room listening, but that was all a part of the fun. This was a session for Kurt and Blaine…but no one needed to know it but them.

"Do you think we can get one?" Kurt asked innocently. "Or even better, do you think if we asked nicely they would sell us this one…" Kurt turned in Blaine's embrace, leaning into his ear and adding quietly, "Because Brad's going to get his ass rammed at this table, and I think I'd like to keep it as a souvenir."

Blaine couldn't help the shit-eating grin that blossomed on his face.

"If you like it that much," Blaine purred, raising his voice just a bit for the benefit of those gathered, "then we'll get one just like it for every room."

Kurt clapped his hands together playfully, and Blaine smiled wider. From directly across the table, a flushed Nick crossed his legs and bit his lip as he watched his friends play. He held on to his boyfriend's hand tightly, shivering with the ideas that flooded his own mind at Kurt's innuendos. Jeff smiled, tracing circles over the back of Nick's hand, knowing that when Kurt talked shop in public around Nick that Nick got all sorts of ideas. That meant Jeff would for sure get lucky later on.

"How are you holding up?" Kurt asked Blaine, becoming serious for a moment, using his hands to smooth down Blaine's sports coat at the shoulders and feeling the slight bulge of the rope hidden underneath.

At home in their playroom, Blaine had tried to put on a brave front, tried not to seem too concerned about the meeting, but try as he might he couldn't hide anything from his dom. After hours of creative coercion on the part of Kurt's dominatrix, Blaine eventually broke down and confessed the overwhelming concerns that weighed heavy on his shoulders. In the past, these meetings always tied Blaine's stomach in knots, but he never really concerned himself with them too much since he normally just sat in the corner, sipping iced coffees and smirking while his agent and his lawyer negotiated the details of his life. Lucky for him, he had some pretty talented people on his payroll. Thad and Wes always had Blaine's best interest at heart, and Blaine relied on that, doing his level best to make sure they never felt taken for granted.

But never before had the fate of so many people's careers hedged on him, and that was exactly what would happen today. Blaine knew exactly why Brad had called this mass meeting instead of meeting with each actor and crew member individually. This was all a big show of Brad putting Blaine in his place; proving that even if Blaine was the star, the face of Sing, he only was because Brad had put him there, and in the end Brad pulled all the strings. Brad didn't have to worry about the rest of the cast. If he could get Blaine to fall in line, everyone else would automatically follow suit…except for maybe Kevin. And on the off-chance that Blaine didn't feel like being a team player and rolling over for Brad and his army of lawyers, then maybe there were enough people on the crew who desperately needed their jobs for the sake of their livelihood that could force Blaine to cooperate.

Blaine had already spoken to a large majority of the cast and crew, and for the most part they sided with him and the other actors who they discovered had been manipulated, humiliated, or otherwise abused by Brad and the studio. In the face of being fired, everyone was willing to stand together.

Faced with the threat of a muti-million dollar lawsuit for breach of contract might change their tune just a bit.

Blaine needed security; he needed something tangible to hold on to. He needed the safety of feeling owned. Otherwise, he didn't know how he'd make it through. Kurt knew he couldn't keep Blaine from failing, but he could make it safe for him if he did. So in preparation for the day, Kurt spent an hour in the playroom with Blaine, breaking him down, tearing him to the core of his being, edging him to the point of insanity, so close to orgasm that just a breath of warm air across his swollen and straining cock would prompt an orgasm, then denying Blaine the one thing he needed.

And Blaine was so good, so obedient, his discipline mounting in the face of physical strain – tied, whipped, and for a brief period, shallowly choked so that Kurt could maintain control. Blaine gave it all to him. He let his cares and his worries bleed into Kurt's body and Kurt devoured it with the strength of his own determined will, because this was how a true dom showed his colors. This is how the black swan loved his sub. Kurt showered Blaine, his sub still hard and wanting, but leaning on Kurt for guidance and strength. Kurt didn't let Blaine lift a finger as he massaged his own vanilla scented shampoo into Blaine's curls and carefully washed his body; working the stress and anxiety from his muscles with firm, deep strokes of his fingers.

Then and only then, when Blaine was clean, scrubbed, and thoroughly exfoliated, Kurt got down on his hands and knees for Blaine and sucked him off slowly, a gentle caress of his mouth over Blaine's aching erection. Kurt hummed around, a light and airy sound of complete contentment that warmed Blaine from his scalp to the soles of his feet, and with a low moan, only a little louder than a sigh, Blaine came with his dom swallowing around him, arms twined around his hips, holding him still.

Kurt dried his sub off and after rubbed him down with an invigorating citrus-scented oil, kneading away any kinks that still remained.

Kurt chose for Blaine a power suit of his own design for him to wear, but before he dressed him Kurt found a sizeable amount of smooth, red cord and tied Blaine up in it, creating a harness that fastened in the back with a series of dragonfly knots running down the length of his spine, wrapping around his shoulders and his hips. Every time Blaine moved, he felt the almost silky rope lubricated by the massage oil, tighten around his chest, under his arms, between his legs, passing between his legs and loosely through the crack of his ass, securing just above the swell of his cheeks. The binding kept him calm, made him feel protected, reminded him that he was strong but that there was at least one person in the world that would be there to catch him if he fell.

Blaine gave Kurt a strained, comical smile, with wide, bulging eyes and full of chattering teeth, and Kurt laughed, holding him close.

"Don't worry, my love," Kurt whispered. "It'll be alright. They can't touch us. They can't touch what we have."

Kurt kissed Blaine's curls, inhaling deep, and letting the comforting scent of his own shampoo fill his senses. Blaine was right. Just as Blaine's signature scent of Atlas smelled different on Kurt's skin, Kurt's favorite shampoo took on a unique flavor in Blaine's hair. Kurt blinked his eyes at the rather harsh sound of someone clearing their throat, and looked over Blaine's head at the mingling crowd. His eyes drifted from person to person, each caught up in their own conversations except for one person, Mia, staring at them, a hint of something close to longing in her distant expression. She looked sad. She looked lost. She looked done in, sitting alone, her own agent occupied elsewhere, and to a small degree, in Kurt's eyes at least, she looked like she missed Blaine. Or maybe she just missed someone holding her and telling her that everything would be okay, like Kurt was doing now with Blaine.

The longer he held her gaze, the more he couldn't help the pity he began to feel for the girl. Blaine so often said that, just like him and Sebastian, she was a victim of circumstance – an innocent and naïve actress making her big break on television, knowing nothing about the perils and pitfalls of the business, barely out of her teens with all sorts of wide-eyed optimism, who eventually became corrupted by the Hollywood machine. Kurt smiled softly, feeling for the first time a sense of camaraderie with this woman that he had, for a brief period of time, felt at odds with. Even though Blaine had a sexual relationship with both her and Sebastian in the past, Kurt felt that Mia was his only real competition for Blaine's affections, but not because Blaine loved her. He admitted he never had those kinds of feelings for her. They were paired together by the studio execs and a relationship with her was easy, convenient. No, Kurt felt that she could provide things physically that he couldn't provide, no matter how captivating he looked in a satin baby doll and silk stockings.

Mia tilted her head in interest at his response, and for a moment Kurt thought she might actually return the smile. What doors would open for them if she did? Could they morph their current relationship of animosity and utter annoyance at the mere sight of each other into something even possibly resembling the shadows of friendship? The sudden snarl that curled Mia's lip gave Kurt his answer. She crossed her arms dramatically over her chest and huffed in exasperation, turning her head to look uninterested in an opposing direction. Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed heavy into Blaine's hair. Blaine peeked up at him, frowning with concern.

"What is it, love?" Blaine asked, his voice a low murmur, blissfully sedate in the arms of his dom.

"Oh, nothing," Kurt reassured him. "Just another dumb human exceeding expectations." When Blaine's frown deepened with an added look of confusion, Kurt smiled, dipping down to peck a kiss to Blaine's nose. "Don't worry about it. I'll tell you later."

The cluster of cast and crew were kept waiting for over forty-five minutes, and some of the less-seasoned actors began to get restless. But Blaine and the regulars took it in stride. Sebastian sat with Chandler in his lap as they talked in whispers and giggled over secrets, and Kurt couldn't help the smile that started as he watched them wrapped together in their own little world. Nick looked over Jeff's shoulder as they streamed episodes of Brooklyn-Nine-Nine on Nick's tablet. Blaine sat with his head leaning against Kurt's shoulder and the earbuds to his iPod stuck in his ears, listening to a combination of classical and modern music for inspiration for the next song on his album.

"It's Brad's thing," Blaine explained nonchalantly when Kurt wondered how Blaine was doing, worried that the stretch of time would ratchet up Blaine's anxiety level. "He likes to be late to try and shake us up, and then he makes a grand appearance. We're all pretty used to it."

Kurt texted Dave to make sure that he and the kids were having fun on their adventure at the Los Angeles Zoo. He smiled at the pictures of the kids that Dave had already texted, and in the background of a couple Kurt thought he could see the same foreign pair of shoes and khaki colored slacks make a, out-of-focus appearance. Kurt smiled. Dave hadn't expressly mentioned that Adam would be joining them. Maybe because he had made the offer to Adam and the man hadn't given him a definite answer. Or maybe because Dave knew Kurt would obsess over it, call it a date even though it was most likely just a casual get together, and then help him pick out his outfit, worrying through his wardrobe well into the night to find an ensemble with the perfect mixture of breezy-just-thrown-together chic with a touch of I'm-totally-into-you sprinkled subtly throughout.

Either way, Dave would tell Kurt in his own time…or Kurt would nag it out of him. Only time would tell which approach would be necessary.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw a chair pull up beside him, and Chandler drop down into it. Kurt turned to see the man sitting primly upright, his knees pressed tight together with his hands sandwiched between them as he rocked from side to side in his excitement. Highlighted sandy colored hair peeked out from beneath a trendy pageboy cap, and pellucid blue eyes shimmered with restrained excitement. The man's pale skin rivaled Kurt's own, though Kurt reassured himself quietly that his was more porcelain in hue than Chandler's slightly sun-kissed complexion. Chandler pressed thin, pink lips tight together, as if keeping a torrent of words from flooding out. Kurt had to admit, the man had impeccable taste and in Sebastian, a generous benefactor.

"May I help you?" Kurt asked, trying to sound warm and welcoming, preparing for a possible verbal sparring match. This was Sebastian's inamorato, after all.

"We haven't been formally introduced," Chandler sang, thrusting a hand into Kurt's personal space. "I'm Chandler Kiehl."

"Kurt," Kurt replied, taking Chandler's hand and shaking it, feeling the man tremble in anticipation of what, Kurt didn't know. "Kurt Hummel."

"I know," Chandler cooed, bouncing in his seat. "Word around the table is that you're the man to see for sexy clothes and kinky sex advice." Chandler was making no effort to keep his voice down, and Kurt could hear a few hushed giggles travel around the table. Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine, who had taken his earbuds out of his ears and watched the interaction with a subdued smile of amusement.

"Uh…you could say that," Kurt said, turning back to Chandler.

"Well…" Chandler leaned in, his eyes shifting left and right, only now seeming concerned about any of the current onlookers listening in, "I was hoping that you might be willing to help me change my look." Chandler folded his hands and twiddled his thumbs, his attention drawn to his own fidgeting digits. "And, maybe with a few other things…" Chandler's cheeks started to pink at the admission, and Kurt took a guess at what Chandler might want to talk about.

"Okay…" Kurt started, stalling long enough to give himself time to come up with an answer.

"That's okay," Chandler said, pulling back and waving his hands, dismissing his request as he started to stand. "If you don't want to…or you're not comfortable because of…" Chandler's eyes darted up over Kurt's head to someone in the crowd, and Kurt caught on immediately.

"No," he said, catching Chandler's hand and pulling him back down into his seat, "you misunderstand. I wasn't going to turn you down."

"You weren't?" Chandler asked, lowering himself back into the chair slowly, a look of disbelief on his face.

"No." Kurt shook his head, trying to sound more convincing. Yes, accepting an offer from Chandler felt a little like aligning with the enemy, but that wasn't Chandler's fault, Kurt realized. It was his own. He had to stop thinking of Sebastian as the bad guy, and Chandler…well, if his eyes were any indicator, Kurt could tell that this man was hopelessly in love. "I just need more time to determine what I want to do with you," and Kurt winked in what he hoped wasn't a too suggestive way. Chandler giggled, turning his head to the side to try and hide the stain of red on his cheeks that got darker and darker.

"You trying to take my man again, princess?" Suddenly Sebastian was there, standing behind his boyfriend, putting comforting hands on Chandler's shoulder's and massaging gently. Kurt scoffed at the comment, but noticed that the remark didn't cut like all of Sebastian's past insults. In fact, Sebastian's usually acerbic tone sounded softer, and his hard green eyes looked tenderly at their single focus – the giggly man staring up at him with unswerving affection.

"I have to say I thought about it," Kurt responded quickly, stifling a laugh as Chandler's eyes snapped back to Kurt's face, growing wide with shock. "But, I have my hands full at the moment."

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head, pecking a kiss onto Chandler's head, breaking the man from his surprised stupor.

"Oh, you're joking with me!" Chandler put a hand over Sebastian's and snorted cutely. "I knew you were just joking. You know, Bas was the one who told me to come see you. He said you're the best."

This time it was Kurt's turn to stop and stare, raising an eyebrow at Sebastian.

"Yeah, well, don't read too much into it, princess." Sebastian leaned down to wrap his arms around Chandler protectively. "I just think my man here would look good in vinyl, and I'd rather not send him to one of those seedy stores downtown."

"Ah, high praise indeed," Kurt teased. "Well, why don't you give me a call when this hoopla dies down and we'll get you to my studio for a fitting." Kurt reached out his hand, and Chandler handed over his phone, watching with an expression of absolute glee as Kurt inputted his phone number.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!" Chandler chanted, taking his phone back and looking at the number on the screen.

"Come on, babe," Sebastian urged as he helped his star-struck boyfriend from his seat. Chandler smiled so wide that Kurt was sure something on his face would break…or maybe had already broken since he couldn't stop smiling. "Make sure you take good care of my man, Hummel," he said, throwing Kurt a wink and patting Blaine on the back as he walked Chandler back to their seat…the singular seat that they shared with no shame.

Kurt turned in his seat to watch them, and then looked down at a quietly laughing Blaine.

"What just happened?" Kurt asked. Blaine shook his head in response.

"I think that might have been Sebastian's way of apologizing?" Blaine speculated.

"Well, he'd better watch out, or I'll turn his adorable little boyfriend into another Nick."

Blaine put an arm around Kurt's shoulders and squeezed.

"I'm not sure you have far to go with that one," Blaine said. "You forget, I saw them fucking when you left Sebastian tied to that bed. I'm pretty sure Chandler's into the whole bondage thing."

Kurt chuckled, trying to picture Chandler as a dom, dressed in leather, with Sebastian in a collar and a leash.

"Could happen," he commented. "Stranger things have."

The heavy double doors flew open and Brad strode in, dressed in all black like the villain from a cheesy, old school, spaghetti Western. All he needed was a handlebar moustache and a ten gallon hat, and the façade would be fini. Instead of a hat, he wore Ray-Ban sunglasses to instill a sense of fear and intimidation, Kurt assumed. He kept the top two button of his tailored dress shirt unbutton in typical Hollywood exec fashion. Several other men in black sunglasses and suits flanked him, taking seats near him or standing in pre-planned spots behind him. Brad pulled off his sunglasses and appraised the room with a no-nonsense, smug expression. Everyone fell silent and watched the performance with mixed expressions ranging from aggravation to unease.

Brad waited, letting anticipation grow in the silence as the actors and crew waited for whatever Brad had to say. Kevin, who had been appointed spokesman, stood at his seat and cleared his throat.

"Brad," he started, and Kurt was impressed at how confident he sounded with all eyes on him and so much riding on the line, "you called this meeting, and as a show of good faith, we're all gathered here to hear what you have to say."

"Mr. Lee," Brad said coolly in response.

"What?" Kevin said, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"You will refer to me as Mr. Lee, or these negotiations are over."

Kevin rolled his eyes so that Kurt could almost hear them moving in their sockets.

"Ok, Mr. Lee," Kevin groaned. "You wanted to talk, so talk. I know a lot of us have better things to do."

"Yeah, maybe," Brad said. "But a lot of you don't." His cold eyes sought out and landed on a few members of the crew that Kurt didn't recognize, who shuffled nervously in their seats at being targeted.

"Look," Kevin intervened. Kurt heard the tone of his voice shift, as if Kevin was fighting hard not give in to frustration. "We've come up with an agreement we think will be fair to everyone involved."

"Ah…" Brad sat back in his chair, reclining comfortably, staring down the line of people seated at the table, passing quickly past make-up artists and costume artists, most of the background crew really, and lingering for heated moments on the stars themselves. But his icy glare, the one that shot shard, daggers, and a myriad of other sharp and deadly objects, he reserved for Kurt. Kurt who stole his lead star, who flaunted his deviance and destroyed his show. For a moment, Brad considered giving the group anything they wanted as long as he got Kurt's head on a silver platter in return.

But Brad realized that in this day and age, such compromises were impractical…and most likely illegal. He didn't know for sure. He didn't quite sit on the right sight of legal all the time himself.

Kurt matched Brad's stare, his steel grey eyes glaring back at with an equal dose of ice and venom, unwilling to relinquish control.

"So, what do you think?" Kevin said.

"What?" Brad asked, turning back toward Kevin, livid at letting Kurt win their staring match by default. He saw the tense faces of the people around him and realized that Kevin had just outlined their entire plan while he was busy plotting his revenge. "I didn't hear a word of what you just said. Sorry, not sorry."

A low murmur grew up around them, and Kevin pinched his nose, taking a deep breath.

"Our proposal, if you look in front of you…" Kevin gestured to a folder sitting on the table in front of Brad, but Brad refused to acknowledge it, "states that we agree to five final episodes in order to tie up loose ends in the storyline so we can give the fans of the show closure."

Brad nodded, looking intent and even interested. Kurt wasn't fooled. He didn't think anyone else in the room was either.

"Everyone will be compensated fully up through the end of the season. Also, any crew members whose affiliation is not solely to the show Sing who intend to stay with the studio will not be blackballed, as this agreement was mainly reached by the leads. They shouldn't be penalized for something they had no control over."

A meaningless nod.

"And we ax the tour," Kevin threw in.

Another meaningless nod.

Kevin threw his hands up in frustration.

"If you're not listening to us, then why are we here?" Kevin grumbled.

"Oh, I'm listening," Brad said, waving to the men seated beside him. They opened their briefcases and pulled out a stack of papers, rising from their seats and handing them out. "But you see, the studio has a counteroffer that I think we should discuss."

Kurt watched Kevin take the handout and look at it, his brow crinkling further. He leaned over to peek at the handout of the person beside him, and then at the person to the opposite side. Kurt looked over Blaine's shoulder at the pages he was flipping through. All Kurt could make out was a bunch of complicated legalese, and at the bottom of a few pages, Blaine's signature.

"I don't understand," Blaine said. Brad turned to face him, seeming all too pleased that Blaine seemed finally involved. "This is my contract."

"And this is mine," Sebastian affirmed, holding his papers out for everyone to see.

"And mine," Kevin chimed in.

"That's right." Brad nodded. "Each one of you has a contract with the studio. A contract that is legal and binding. A contract you all agreed to."

"We know," Kevin said slowly. "We're breaking them."

"That's easy for you to say." Brad stood, starting a circuit around the room. "But not everyone in this room is a millionaire like you. Some people here need their jobs. You guys have been together for a while. You're all a family. You know better than I do that some people sitting at this table will be on the verge of financial ruin if this show goes under."

"We are a family. We'll find a way," another crew person, (Marcus, Kurt thought his name was) offered.

"What are you going to do?" Brad asked, continuing his way around the table. "Are you going to support all these people on your salary? Hell, I don't think Blaine could support everyone here on his salary. The truth of the matter is we have you …all of you, for breach of contract. We could sue you all, renegotiate your contracts, pay you all less, and still get you back on the show."

Kurt turned to Blaine. Thad stood stooped behind Blaine's chair, whispering in his ear that Kurt couldn't make out. Blaine nodded.

"Over my dead and decaying body," Kevin groused with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

"What do you want, Brad?" Blaine spoke up, securing Brad's undivided attention. Kurt could hear in the inflection of his voice that Blaine had reached his limit. Years of this same power play, of being told what he was going to do without any regard for his wants or his dreams. Blaine was tired of bending to someone else's agenda, and he was done dealing with Brad's enormous ego.

"I just want what's fair for everyone," Brad said, arms open wide to include all the people gathered, even though his gaze burned solely at Blaine. "I want you to finish out your contract. End this season. Do the tour. Be seen in public with Sebastian or Mia, whoever you want, or both, your choice, and promote our image." Brad made his way back to the end of the table where he started, turning on Blaine and leaning over the table with barely an inch between them. "Stop being selfish, Blaine. Put your…" Brad turned his head to glance at Kurt and then back to Blaine, "…whatever…on the back burner for a while, and think of the greater good."

Kurt looked at Blaine, trying to decipher Blaine's reaction, but Blaine's eyes drifted down to his lap and stayed glue to his hands as he composed himself, thinking things over in his head, finding the words to say what needed to be said. This wasn't his life. It was just a show. Kurt, the man sitting next to him, loving him, supporting him, that was his life. The kids and Dave – they were his life. A future in music…hopefully that was in the cards somewhere, too. But this? This disaster? This toxic train wreck? This was nothing. A stepping stone. He would toss it away and forage ahead for something new. And all those people who would be adversely affected by his decision…well, like Marcus said, they were a family. They'd find a way.

Blaine lifted his eyes to look at his dom, taking strength from the enormity of love in his eyes. Kurt smiled.

"You can do this," Kurt whispered. "Just…say what you need to say."

Blaine nodded, standing, stopping to press a kiss to Kurt's forehead. Blaine's eyes swept over the room, trying in his own quiet way to give everyone looking to him a small measure of hope.

"I love this show," Blaine started, shuffling from foot to foot uncomfortably, "and when we started, I honestly saw myself doing this forever. I had other dreams that I wanted to pursue, but I was pretty sure any road I took would eventually lead me back here, to Sing. But somewhere along the way, this show became perverted. It wasn't uplifting or entertaining, the storylines made no sense, and the more we got pulled into this, the more we changed. Our lives changed. There came a point that I didn't even recognize myself anymore…"

"Get to the point…" Brad groused loudly, flopping down theatrically back into his chair.

Blaine swallowed hard and Kurt took his hand, holding it firmly, not prepared to let go without Blaine's say so. Blaine looked at Kurt's hand in his, pale and perfect, strong and secure. Blaine fixed Brad with determined eyes; a look so powerfully self-assured that it wiped the smirk off of Brad's face.

"You know, my entire career I relied on other people to steer me in the right direction, and I put my trust in too many of the wrong people, you included. You keep asking me if I've read my contract, and you've got me there." Blaine shrugged his shoulders. "I'm kind of a fuck up. I think I read it once in the bathroom, but I didn't set portions of it to memory like you obviously have. But luckily, I didn't have to."

Blaine didn't have to turn to know that Thad was walking to the table, handing Brad a copy of his contract.

"What's this?" Brad asked.

"It's a copy of my contract that I brought for you," Blaine said, "only mine has a few choice passages highlighted. Passages that you seemed to have glossed over when you were setting it to memory."

Kurt was intrigued. Blaine never mentioned this. He couldn't imagine what might be hiding between the lines of Blaine's contract that would fill Blaine with so much confidence. The way Brad made it sound, the actors had basically signed over their souls when they joined the show.

"What is this?" Brad mumbled, turning the page with the large section of print marked over in yellow to one of the black suited lackeys standing behind him.

"That," Wes intervened, stepping forward and putting an arm on the shoulder of his friend, "is a morals clause. In laymen's terms it states that if Blaine or the studio does something that can be deemed morally reprehensible by either party, then the contract is completely null and void."

Brad stared at the page, his jaw tight, a vein in his neck throbbing grotesquely.

"My client has been the victim of entrapment, blackmail, and invasion of privacy for starters."

"You can't prove any of that," Brad growled, though he didn't sound too sure.

"Actually, we can." Wes turned to Thad who handed him another folder. Wes didn't even look at the contents. He dropped it in front of Brad, who startled when the heavy folder hit the table with a thunk. "We have signed affidavits, statements, surveillance footage. The long and short of it is that we have enough here to have you charged for several different classes of felonies."

Brad opened the folder in front of him with trembling fingers, though whether or not he was shaking out of anger or fear, or maybe a little bit of both, was a card he played close to his chest.

"On top of that," Wes continued into the silence, "is the suit my other client, Mr. Hummel, will be filing for invasion of privacy and defamation of character."

At the mention of Kurt's name, Brad's eyes rose to find his face, smiling innocently, taunting the desperate man with a tiny wave.

"So, you have a choice," Blaine said, picking up the conversation again. "You can agree to our terms and use the last five episodes of Sing to redeem yourself and the show, or Kurt and I sue you up and down for everything you've got. The show will be bust, you'll lose all your credibility, this whole career you've built will be gone."

Blaine waited patiently for an answer, watching a Brad seethed in his seat, papers crumpling in his fists.

"For God sakes, Brad!" Blaine sighed in exasperation. "Is getting back at me really worth all of this? Just let it go, man."

Brad couldn't decide who he hated more in that moment – Kurt for destroying Blaine, or Blaine for destroying the show? When had everything spiraled so completely out of his control? When did his puppets suddenly develop minds of their own and conspire against him? He was going to lose everything. He was producing four failing shows before Sing came along, and try as he might he hadn't been able to make lightning strike twice, not in all that time. Another show like Sing would never come together for him, not in a million years.

Brad slammed his fists down on the table, pushing himself to his feet. He turned, shoving past his pack of black suits and heading for the door, the man Kurt identified as his lawyer (or possibly his head lawyer) trailing behind him like a puppy mewling for attention. Everyone at the table and lined around the room stared in stunned silence at the cracked door, all holding a combined breath as they listened to Brad roar and curse outside the double doors. Sebastian broke the silence with his signature sarcastic laugh.

"Shit, Blaine," he said, "I've got to hand it to you. You don't do anything by halves, do you? When you fuck someone over, you really fuck someone over."

It was a stereotypical Sebastian Smythe compliment, meant to sound more like a jab but with just enough infused affection that anyone who knew the real Sebastian would automatically know the difference, but Kurt couldn't help detect a thread of something else. Sebastian still had some issues to resolve, that was for sure, but Kurt didn't know exactly with whom.

"Just wait," Blaine said with a wink at his former lover, "we're not done just yet, are we?" Sebastian smiled evilly, sparing a glance at Kurt before turning his attention back to his boyfriend still perched in his lap. Kurt's interest was once again piqued, not realizing there was more to this elaborate plan. Blaine had hinted at so much without telling Kurt anything, and now he found himself on the edge of his seat, waiting sadistically for Brad to return.

The commotion in the hallway died down and the doors opened again, just enough for Brad to peek his head through. Addressing the crowd but speaking only to Blaine again, he ground out through clenched teeth, "You have your five episodes. I hope you're satisfied."

"Not just yet," Blaine said when Brad turned to leave. There is just one more tiny detail. We heard a reliable rumor there's been a bidding war to see which designer is going to outfit me and Kevin and the rest of the cast for the big wedding scene."

"Yeah," Brad replied slowly, looking about to commit murder but his voice betraying his fear that he knew where this conversation might be heading. "The studio's narrowed it down to three designers so far…"

"Well, you're giving it to Kurt," Kevin interrupted.

Kurt turned his head so quickly that he felt a muscle in his neck kink painfully.

"What?" both men exclaimed in chorus. Kurt's wide eyes turned to Blaine who glowed at his boyfriend with pride, but the black aura surrounding Brad's body was nearly tangible. He held onto the edge of the door with a grip that made the thick wood shake. Kurt thought for a second that he might actually rip the thing from its frame.

"Fine," Brad hissed. "You now have my permission to go fuck yourself."

Blaine smirked, and barely waiting a breath replied, "Like I need your permission for that."

Brad stormed back through the door, his voice echoing as he stomped down the hallway, barking orders and cursing out demands. A roar went up around the room, and people actually cheered, leaving Kurt to wonder just how bad everyone had it on set if defeating Brad made everyone this relieved. Maybe now that Blaine was over this and could see things critically, he could explain it to Kurt. But for now he needed to get home and get started on those designs, and he would definitely need Blaine's help.

The euphoria in the room was loud and infectious, and Kurt through himself into his boyfriend's arms. People passed them by, clapping both men on the back and offering their congratulations, but Kurt didn't hear them, and he suspected neither did Blaine.

"I am so proud of you, baby," Kurt gushed, holding Blaine close. "You did it. You finally did it. You're free!"

"Well, five episodes and then free," Blaine corrected. "So, do you like your surprise?"

"What the fuck, Blaine?" Kurt crowed. "How did you guys come up with that?"

"We all pretty much figured that Brad owed you, too," Blaine admitted with a small shrug. "But do you like it?"

"You have no idea," Kurt purred, running his hands down Blaine's arms. "So, what happens now?"

"I think the guys were talking about grabbing lunch someplace nearby?" Blaine looked over his shoulder, trying to make eye-contact with Kevin to make sure, but Kurt cupped his jaw and pulled Blaine's attention back to his eyes.

"We need to go…now." Kurt spoke slowly, putting undeniable emphasis into his words.

"Go?" Blaine asked, stumbling a bit when Kurt untangled from his embrace and started dragging him away by the arm, pushing past the throng of people who crowded around them. "Go where?"

Kurt turned to whisper to his sub. No one else needed to hear his plans.

"We need to get back to our playroom. If I'm going to make all those tuxes and dresses, I had better start sketching and planning yesterday, and I need you for…uh…inspiration."

Blaine bit his lip and let himself be dragged along. He didn't know exactly how Kurt would use him for inspiration, but he couldn't wait to find out.

They made it out of the studio and to Blaine's car in record time. Kurt dragged Blaine the entire way while Blaine texted Thad, Wes, Kevin, and anyone else he could think of, one-handed, to apologize for their abrupt retreat. Most of the words came out misspelled, and some of them bled together, but Blaine was pretty sure that everyone would get the gist.

Things like traffic lights and stop signs were just a hindrance to Blaine, and he disregarded as many as he could conceivably get away with. He was a man on a mission. Kurt, his dom, needed him; for inspiration, of all things. For an operation of this importance, Blaine would risk a few minor traffic infractions, only slowing down and stopping when lives were at stake.

The playroom, with its deep purple walls and overwhelming dark and slightly sinister air waited for them, cool and inviting, enveloping them the moment they entered it with its sensuous mystique. Kurt didn't need to tell Blaine how he wanted him, didn't need to let Blaine get ready since he had been in his sub mindset all day. Kurt took no time stripping Blaine down till he was naked, with just the ropes tied around his body. While Kurt worked on disrobing his sub, his mind whirled around thoughts of a wedding – a breathtaking, aubergine and gold themed wedding (he assumed since those were the favorite colors of the characters on the show). But that was a minor detail, easily adjusted if they took it in a different direction.

Tuxes. In the last close to ten years Kurt hadn't designed a tux since Finn and Rachel's wedding. God, it seemed like ages ago. He turned this corner in his life, with Blaine and the big move to L.A. and here he was designing two sets of tuxes.

Kurt wondered if designing another pair of tuxes would be in his future anytime soon.

Kurt pushed those thoughts to the side, filling his head with dimensions and deciding over fabric choices, cut, color, and drape as he removed each article of Blaine's clothing, laying each piece carefully over the back of a nearby chair. He trussed Blaine up quickly, using another length of rope and the exact same dragonfly knots to tie up his arms and legs so that his knees and elbows couldn't bend. He needed Blaine to last, but as a reward for his wonderful performance at the meeting, Kurt decided to forgo the testicle cuff in favor of simply tying a knot above his ball sac with the line that threaded up between his cheeks. Ankles and wrists were tied to the bed, putting Blaine in what Kurt could easily call his favorite iron cross position. It made Blaine so accessible and showed off all his assets – his gorgeously sculpted thighs, his enviable biceps, his perfect ass, his flat stomach... He loved having this, Blaine on display just for his enjoyment. He mourned the fact that he would probably never meet the Andersons and be able to thank them for the masterpiece they created – this spectacular temple of a human being, with the stunning heart and soul to match.

Kurt laid his sketchpad and charcoal pencils on the bed in front of Blaine, preparing his work space to insure optimal comfort and few distractions. Kurt stripped down to his boxer briefs, not worrying about his armor for now since his task was strictly goal oriented.

He didn't necessarily need Blaine to obey. He just needed him there.

Kurt affixed a thick leather collar around Blaine's neck, one that restricted him from tilting his head down, to keep him from peeking at the works of art Kurt intended to create, adding a blindfold as a little extra insurance, and a comfortable ball gag so that any errant noise Blaine might make wouldn't derail Kurt's concentration. Kurt lay out on the bed with his sketchpad within reach. He breathed in deep through his nose and out again through his mouth; a deep, cleansing breath to clear his mind and slow the frantic beat of his heart, still thrumming with adrenaline; an aftereffect of Blaine's tremendous news. Kurt took Blaine in his mouth, allowing Blaine freedom to moan without fear of punishment. Kurt sucked on his sub slowly while he let his mind wander, and in this way Kurt used Blaine's body as a means of meditation and a way to relax, to unhinge his mind and allow his creativity to flow through. Kurt often thought his artistic brain was at its peak when he could tap into his center of total control, and domination always put him in the correct state of mind.

On and on through the long afternoon Kurt sucked, alternating pressure between hard and gentle, caressing with his tongue, and humming light, airy tunes, edging Blaine along, constructing patterns in his head to the symphony of muffled whimpers and whines above him. As soon as he knew Blaine was close to cumming, Kurt would stop and sketch, giving his sub enough time to cool off before beginning again.

Kurt stopped sketching when he had ten designs done, ten opuses that he could safely commit to calling the best work he had ever done. Blaine had reached a point where his body wouldn't stop shaking, and Kurt refused to torture the poor man anymore. Kurt stood from the bed and pulled off his briefs. He approached his blindfolded sub, slathering his own patiently waiting cock with generous amounts of lube since he intended on this being hard and fast, which meant very little prep. He didn't speak a word to Blaine, letting the sound of his feverish breathing and the heat of his body communicate all that he needed to say. Kurt removed the collar from around Blaine's neck and slipped the knotted rope from his testicles, and that's when Blaine knew what his dom had in store for him.

Kisses to the nape of Blaine's neck accompanied Kurt's ever so slow breach of his body, and the moment the head of Kurt's cock passed the tight ring of muscle that relaxed around it, Blaine gave such an unrivaled sigh of relief that Kurt had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, which he realized might end up being a huge blow to Blaine's self-esteem. Kurt slid slowly in, enjoying the squeeze of his sub's body around him, the lack of resistance at his intrusion. Kurt hummed his approval at the pliant body and its intense heat that consumed his cock inch by inch.

"Mmm, you're so hot for me, Blaine. So tight for me, too. Do you like that I use you like this?"

Blaine didn't speak around the ball gag in his mouth. He didn't have permission and very little strength besides. Every last bit of energy seemed to race straight along with all his blood straight to his cock, which was rock hard and throbbing from hours of attention and conflicting signals, but now begged for release.

"Don't worry, my love," Kurt said in response to Blaine's silence. "You were such a good boy for me. I'll give you what you need."

Kurt peppered Blaine's shoulders with bruises – some gentle nibbles, and some so deep that they went purple in seconds. Blaine squirmed in his confines as Kurt assaulted his sweet spot again and again, murmuring words of love and praise into his skin.

"That's my good boy," Kurt whispered, not hiding the whimper from his voice, not afraid of looking weak if he lost control, "I'll give you what you want. I'll give you what you need. I'll fill you to bursting. I'll make you cum. So gorgeous…so obedient…so mine…"

Kurt's long fingers, stained with charcoal, barely brushed Blaine's cock and he went limp like a ragdoll, body quivering and shaking as he came, spilling over Kurt's skin, making it white again, falling over the comforter on the bed in thick ropes. Kurt was amazed that Blaine had been so ready for so long, and yet he still gave Kurt more, so much more of himself than Kurt even thought possible.

"Beautiful," Kurt moaned in awe. "Just hold on a little longer for me, baby…just a little…longer…"

Kurt held Blaine's body against him, still pounding into him after Blaine's muscles had long given up the fight to hold him upright, but the fall of his limbs around him, the way Blaine's body covered his like a blanket, the tremendous trust of this sub for his dom, made cumming effortless, easy, like taking a breath or blinking an eye. They were joined together, so intimate, so connected.

One. Complete. Whole.

Kurt thought he'd never stop his hips stuttering, never stop cumming inside Blaine, and Blaine rode it out with him.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt whispered, holding Blaine up in the ropes, worrying the knots one by one and cursing himself for being so Goddamned thorough. "Blaine, aside from being in love I think this room is the best gift you've ever given me."

Kurt reached a hand around Blaine's body and pulled the ball gag from his mouth, grateful for the deep breath Blaine sucked in immediately, aware as Kurt was on Blaine's propensity for passing out.

"Th-that…that can't possibly be true," Blaine sputtered, trying his best to will his legs to stand and groaning in despair when they simply would not cooperate. Kurt gave up on the knots for a moment to catch his breath, still supporting most of Blaine's weight in his arms. He thought about all the things Blaine had given him – the house, a job, his life, a career, a brand new start in a world he was sure gave up on him and his family a long time ago. But the best gift he had, the greatest thing that had been given to him, was the man cradled in his arms.

Kurt took another deep breath, this one full of serenity and peace, as he ran his chin over Blaine's curls.

"You're right," Kurt said. "It's not. But for the moment, it's definitely in the top five."