Blaine woke up, a little confused and extremely sore. He didn't remember when he had fallen asleep, but he did remember Kurt. Kurt had untied his hands and laid him out on the bed. Kurt had gotten a bowl and filled it with warm soapy water. He had carefully prepared Blaine by cradling him with towels so as not to get the bed wet. Sitting gingerly beside Blaine, Kurt painstakingly sponged Blaine down, aware of all the welts and bruises that littered his skin. Then Kurt had straddled Blaine's naked body and rubbed him down with baby oil.

"Do you do this for all of your subs?" Blaine had mumbled into his pillow. He rembered Kurt chuckling lightly.

"Only the ones who pay me to spend the night."

"And how many is that?"

"Including you?" Kurt giggled. "Only one."

After that, Blaine melted beneath Kurt's talented fingers. Blaine had felt so cared for, so pampered, his mind drifted away. The last thing he remembered was Kurt curling up behind him and wrapping his arms around him.

Blaine smiled at the memory. He didn't want to move, but he was cold. That's when he noticed he was in bed alone.

"Kurt?" he called into the darkness.

It took Blaine a while to get out of bed. Every thing screamed at him to lay back down. He threw on a pair of sleep pants and an old college t-shirt. He walked through the house, rubbing his wrists, looking into the shadows for his angel.

Blaine found Kurt sitting on the sofa, looking toward the glass patio doors. He was wearing one of Blaine's white dress shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. The  moonlight from outside spread across the wood floor in a single beam, and in its wake, Kurt's skin glowed. Blaine liked the look of Kurt, sitting demurely in his shirt, looking out of the window. He looked elegant. He looked refined.

He looked like he belonged there.

For a moment, Blaine allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to wake up to that image every day.

Kurt held his phone tightly in his grip. Blaine wondered if Kurt had called home to check up on his kids. It looked almost as if Kurt had been crying. At the very least, he looked tired.

"I woke up and you were gone," Blaine said quietly. "I was afraid you had gone home."

"I promised you could have me for the night," Kurt said with a weak smile, looking up at Blaine as he sat beside Kurt. "It's just been a long time since I've woken up in a bed that wasn't mine. I'm sorry if I woke you."

Blaine carefully put a hand on Kurt's knee.

The silence was painful between them. Blaine wanted desperately to know this man, but he didn't want to intrude.

Kurt sighed.

"Is it wrong that I want to remember all of this?" Kurt whispered. Blaine furrowed his brow. He didn't understand.

Blaine took Kurt's hand, tugging a little to make Kurt look at him.

"Tell me something about yourself that I don't already know." Blaine's voice was soft, his eyes open and honest.

Kurt chuckled.

"Well, that would be a lot," he said.

"Then start out with something small, I guess?" Blaine rubbed the back of Kurt's hand with his thumb. Kurt felt his heart skip.

"Okay...uh," Kurt rolled his eyes skyward, thinking. "Ok, well, I'll start with the obvious. I didn't grow up wanting to be a dominatrix."

"What did you want to be?" Blaine asked.

"Actually, I wanted to perform on Broadway." Kurt shifted his position a little to look at Blaine better.

Blaine couldn't imagine this beautiful angel, with his light lilting voice, singing. Blaine was sure it would be magic.

"Would you sing for me?" Blaine asked hopefully. Kurt shook his head.

"I don't know you well enough."

Blaine pulled a face, looking shocked.

"But...but what about..." he sputtered, looking in the direction of the bedroom.

Kurt laughed. The sound was intoxicating. Blaine knew he would never grow tired of hearing it.

"That, honey, is work. I don't learn anything about you by spanking you."

Blaine couldn't help but blush.

"Ok," he said, trying to hide his momentary embarrassment, "then ask me something."

Kurt had a million questions, mostly about the last few hours. Kurt replayed the whole evening, but he found he couldn't pinpoint any one individual event he could ask Blaine about. The whole thing was a whirlwind in his mind, all bound around one singular feeling...and he wasn't ready for it.

Kurt's roving eyes landed back on the piano.

"Do you really know how to play that?" Kurt asked, motioning toward the grand piano by the French doors, "or is it just a prop?"

Blaine laughed bitterly.

"No, I play. Have since I was three." Blaine stood up and walked over to the instrument. "I've loved it since the first moment I felt the keys underneath my fingertips. It's my escape, really."

"Your escape from what?" Kurt asked. Blaine ran his fingers over the keys, slowly pecking out a tune.

"From life," Blaine said.

This time it was Kurt's turn to laugh bitterly.

"Please tell me you're not another star with everything who's going to moan about how all of your wealth doesn't make you happy."

Blaine's fingers ghosted over a few more keys, then stopped.

"It doesn't."

Suddenly, Kurt felt terribly ashamed. Kurt didn't live Blaine's life, didn't walk Blaine's path. Sure Blaine had money and this big, expensive house, but sitting alone in the dark and the quiet Kurt realized that Blaine's life seemed lonely. Sure, Kurt's house was too small, and he was way too poor. But he had Dave and the kids. They lifted him up when he was low. They supported him when he needed.

He couldn't imagine a life without them.

"I'm sorry." Kurt stood and walked to Blaine, standing behind him and lightly put his arms around him. Kurt heard Blaine's breath hitch in his throat, and loosened his grip, imaging how sore Blaine must be. Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrists, and wrapped Kurt''s arms around him, hugging them tight to him, unwilling to let go.

"What are you thinking?" Kurt whispered against the soft cotton shoulder of Blaine's t-shirt.

"I'm thinking that I don't want to go back to bed again." Blaine's voice wavered slightly. "When I wake up you might be gone...for good this time." Blaine turned in Kurt's embrace to look at him, face to face.

Kurt's eyes shimmered like diamonds in the darkness, but they had lost a little of their fire.

"I promise," Kurt said sincerely. "I won't leave without saying good bye to you."

Blaine looked down and nodded.

"You look quite awake." Kurt smiled. "And we still have time. Is there something else you would like to do?"

Blaine thought, then he picked up a remote from the lid of the piano, and pointed it toward the wall. Suddenly, a quiet tune filled the room. Kurt looked around, surprised. Blaine stepped back a bit, and extended a hand to Kurt.

"May I have this dance?"

Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine's.

"Yes. Yes, you may."

Blaine held him, Kurt's body soft  and warm as they swayed slowly to the music. Blaine ran a hand up Kurt's back, rubbing small circles into Kurt's skin. Kurt sighed and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. They danced through the beam of moonlight, and Blaine closed his eyes.

'This is perfect,' Blaine thought.

Blaine lost himself in the moment, lost himself in the idea of Kurt being his forever, cursing the song he chose for ever having an end. But when the next song came, and Kurt didn't let go, they continued to dance, flowing seamlessly from one song to the next to the next, until the CD that was playing had ended, and they continued to dance in the silence.

Only after a glimmer of sunlight could be seen peeking through the windows did Kurt look back into Blaine's eyes.

Blaine expected this to be the beginning of good-bye.

The next words Kurt spoke gripped harder at Blaine's heart.

"Take me back to bed." Kurt's eyes, for once, were vulnerable. "Take me back to bed and hold me."

Blaine took Kurt's hand and led him back to the bedroom, and even though Blaine's bed was massive, the two of them cuddled together in the center, wrapped as closely around each other as humaly possible, and drifted quickly back to sleep.