What you are doing is screwing things up inside my head
You should know better you never listened to a word I said
Clutching your pillow and writhing in a naked sweat
Hoping somebody someday will do you like I did

-Harder to Breathe by Maroon 5-

Blaine pushed the law book away from him and sat back in his chair. He placed his hands over his face, moving them up and through his hair before bringing them to rest on the arms of the chair. He let his head fall back against the chair and closed his eyes.

He couldn't concentrate anymore. He was too exhausted.

The darkness was kicking his ass.

It had been two weeks since Kurt left and so far, things in Paris had worked out well. To Kurt's relief, his roommate, Etienne was very nice. To Blaine's relief, Etienne was very straight. He was a photographer and had graduated from a London school, similar to Parsons. He willingly admitted that he was in photography for the supermodels. He planned to sleep with as many French women as possible and encouraged Kurt to do the same. Kurt huffed and rolled his eyes.

"I'm gay and I have a boyfriend. Actually, a fiancee. I'm getting married when I go back to New York."

Etienne smiled wickedly. "In that case, you should really chat up a few of the French chaps and get a bit of nookie while you're here."

Kurt was glad to be in Paris, but he missed Blaine.

Bad.

So damn bad.

He was surprised at just how badly he missed him. For an entire week, Kurt was sad and weepy during the day, and cried himself to sleep at night. Nighttime was definitely the hardest. He wanted to lay his head on Blaine's chest and feel his strong arms wrapped around him. He felt a physical ache in his chest as his enslavement struggled to sense Blaine's presence, yearning to be near him. His body felt empty and off balance. His ass longed to feel full of Blaine's cock. He missed his touch, his kiss, his caress and the control. His body missed the physical feeling of being loved.

But, it was more than just sexual. He missed Blaine, the man. His smile, smell and voice. Kurt missed talking to him about his day, while Blaine listened and stared at him as if he were the most fascinating person in the world. He missed listening to Blaine talk excitedly about some legal case he was following. He missed watching movies with him. Cooking for him. Modeling new designs and hearing his opinions. He wished Blaine was there to explore the city with him. To walk around, holding hands, commenting on the architecture, the art and the people. For the first time in five years, Kurt felt lonely.

And then there was the guilt.

Blaine didn't say anything, but Kurt knew he was suffering. When they spoke, he could hear the weariness in his voice. And it had only been two weeks. Kurt told himself that they just needed time to adjust. He didn't regret coming, but this was...hard. So much harder than he'd anticipated.

Kurt finally made up his mind to push the guilt aside and concentrate on his Parisian experience. He was finally in Paris, dammit. He was going to make the most of it.

Even if his heart broke a little, everyday.

For two weeks, the darkness lay quiet and still. Blaine figured it was waiting to see if Kurt was really, truly gone. Once it was sure, it began it's nightly ritual.

Around 1:00 am, the darkness would attack, thrashing violently inside Blaine's chest, flowing through his body at a furious pace, growing hotter with every turn. Eventually, the force of the thrashing would throw Blaine from the bed, to the floor. The darkness would yell at him. Why, why, why? Why did you let him leave? We need him. Make him come home. You are a horrible master. He is a bad slave. Make him come home and punish him for leaving.

Blaine would yell back. I let him go because he wanted this! This was important to him! I'm being a good master! Love before the control!

This only frustrated the darkness further, so it would thrash harder and hotter. Some nights, it would throw him to the floor and then slam him into the wall and burn him until he screamed Kurt's name. Blaine made a deal with the darkness. It could punish him for as long as it wanted, but it was never, ever to punish Kurt for leaving. Never. It could only take out its wrath on Blaine. Also, Kurt was to never know what he was going through. The darkness could punish him, but it had to block the connection that would allow Kurt to hear his screams. Blaine didn't want Kurt upset or worried. The darkness agreed. After all, this mess was Blaine's fault. He never should have allowed Kurt to leave. He was the master, so he should be the one punished.

Then there was the lack of sex. Despite living apart for four years, Kurt and Blaine had managed to have sex at least 5-6 times a week, mostly on the weekends. It wasn't enough for Blaine, but he had accepted what he could get. Now, he hadn't had sex in over 14 days. His body was pulsing with sexual energy. Jerking off didn't help. That was just a cruel appetizer. He needed to fuck Kurt. Bad. It was getting so bad, he was beginning to think he would fuck anyone. When his mind wandered to Lake, he immediately went to the gym and played two hours of racquet ball to exhaust himself and kill his sexual desire. Of course, it came roaring back the next day, stronger than ever. Just to be safe, he deleted Lake's contact information from his phone.

Lastly, as if he didn't have enough problems, the dreams had increased from once a week to 3 times a week. They had become so vivid and clear, that Blaine would wake up and think it really happened. Now in the dream, he screamed when the boy with green eyes fucked him. Was it in ecstasy or something else?

Blaine was a mess.

But, he pulled his act together every morning to walk into Huntel, Wellington & VanSant. He was not going to let his personal nightmares ruin his performance, or the outstanding impression he was trying to make.

So far, all he'd been doing was case law research for a few attorneys. He didn't mind the work and turned in excellent reports. Most of the attorneys were pleasant, but some were suspicious and downright pissed off about his presence in the office. Why did an intern, who hasn't even started law school, get a highly coveted corner office? When Blaine was introduced around the office, Mike did it personally. Since when do founding partners introduce interns around the office? Since when do we even have an internship program?

Blaine picked up on the negative vibes, and went out of his way to avoid those who didn't like him. He worked hard to make sure he was on time and produced high quality work, despite being exhausted and in a constant state of sexual tension. He was determined to make a great impression.

"Hey Baby Blaine. Wanna go for coffee?"

Blaine looked up and smiled. Samantha Huntel. If anyone else called him Baby Blaine, he would probably unleash a round of pain on them without thinking. But with Samantha, he didn't mind. Plus, she was Mike Huntel's daughter.

"Sure."

Samantha Huntel was a very gorgeous, stereotypical blonde. She had had long, thick blonde hair, very blue eyes and large breasts. She was 6'2. 6'5 in her heels. Blaine felt like a hobbit standing next to her.

"I know daddy pays you well, so you can pay." Blaine smiled. Yes, daddy was paying him well, but Samantha was rich. 22, beautiful, rich and bored. She had graduated from Syracuse University with a degree in marketing, but didn't seem too interested in finding a job. She told Blaine she wanted to explore her inner Paris Hilton for a few years before becoming a real adult.

While Samantha waited for their coffee, Blaine found a table. He enjoyed watching people's reaction to Samantha. Especially men. Men came on to her, like women came on to him. She dismissed them with a brilliant smile and a shake of the head, walking with a confident stride that only came from knowing you were a knockout.

"So Blaine, how are things? Daddy's not working you too hard, is he?"

"No. Not at all."

Samantha nodded. "Well good. He shouldn't, considering how much he likes you."

Blaine was intrigued. "How do you know he likes me?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Seriously? Do you know how many attorneys want that office you're sitting in? And, no one gets a gym membership until they have been with the firm for at least 5 years, and even then you have to be well-liked by the founding partners. He obviously likes you." Samantha paused. "You broke his heart when you told him you were gay."

"What?" Blaine was alarmed.

Samantha smiled. "He wanted us to date."

"Huh?"

"He wanted us to date. Oh Blaine, I heard about you for months before you finally showed up. Daddy kept going on and on about how good-looking you were and smart and had a great future ahead of you. Blah, blah, blah. Then you announced you liked boys." Samantha laughed. "Poor daddy."

Blaine felt flattered but confused.

"Samantha, your dad didn't know me before my interview. Actually, he still doesn't really know me. Why would he want us to date?" Blaine knew Mike was protective of Samantha. He wouldn't push her off on just anyone.

"I don't know Blaine. All I know is that you are the first boy daddy approved of me dating. I was sure you would be a geeky, law asshole. But no. You are nice, fun, sinfully gorgeous...and gay. Figures. You are the first boy we both agree on and you turn out to be gay. I would have totally dated you. Actually...I still would."

Blaine laughed.

Samantha smiled a sexy smile. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever slept with a girl? Like, before you were sure you were gay?"

Blaine shook his head. "No. Never."

"Weren't you ever curious?"

Blaine wasn't sure how honest he wanted to be. He did not find women attractive, but he was curious. He wondered if fucking a girl would feel the same as fucking a guy. Would a vagina feel as tight as an ass? What would it feel like to come? Would the sensation be the same?

He looked at Samantha. She was staring at him, a little too hopefully. He decided less honesty would be safest.

"No. I definitely just like boys. I love Kurt. The feel of him. The masculine smell. The firmness of his chest." He gestured at Samantha's breasts. "I wouldn't know what to do with all that...fluffiness." Samantha cracked up laughing.

Once he was back in his office, Blaine pondered what Samantha had told him about Mike wanting them to date. It seemed a little strange. Was there more behind Mike's generosity than courting new talent? He thought about Kurt's concerns about the lavishness of the internship. Maybe Kurt was on to something.

Kurt.

Blaine sighed and looked at the photo on his desk. It was the only personal item in the office. A photo of Kurt looking sexy as hell in a conservative yet stylish, three quarter length jacket, pants and black boots. As he stared at the photo, his dick hardened. Down boy. No Kurt for us for awhile.

Why did he let Kurt go to Paris?

X-X-X-X-X

Samantha skipped down the hall to her dad's office. He waved her in as he finished up a phone call. She closed the door and sat down.

Mike stood up to kiss her cheek. "Hello sweetheart. Coffee with Blaine?"

"Yes. He's fun and so damn gorgeous."

"Any progress?"

"Patience daddy. This is going to take time. He does play for the other team, you know. But, I'm working on it."

"Good girl."

Samantha smiled. Yes, she would continue to work on it. She would love to sleep with Blaine. He was gorgeous and she was sure he would be great in bed, despite being gay. He looked like he could fuck with power.

And probably get her pregnant the very first time.

The following week, Blaine stood naked in front of his mirror and studied himself. For the first time ever, Blaine looked a little pale. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but definitely enough for him to notice. He breathed in and out. He felt weaker. And, despite all its thrashing about, the darkness felt weaker. Slower. It had only been 3 weeks.

Fuck.

What would he be like in another month?

He looked at the clock. It was 9:00 pm. France was 6 hours ahead. It was 3:00 am in Paris. Kurt would be asleep. The time difference had made communication difficult. They could text and email, but actually talking was hard. There were only a few hours when they were awake at the same time and they fell when they were both busy working.

Blaine laid on his bed and allowed his hand to wander down between his legs. He closed his eyes and thought about the weekend of punishment. Blaine had tied Kurt's hands to the bar with both his control and two scarves. One white, one black. The physical presence of something holding him in place, had sent Kurt over the edge. It had made his torture more intense. Blaine had driven him hard, making him bounce up and down on his cock, faster and harder than ever before. Kurt had wailed and cried until his voice was gone. He had come over and over, exhausting his body from the physical demands of the position and the orgasms. After his own climax, Blaine had placed the butt plug, tight into Kurt's ass. Kurt's entire body shook and he collapsed to the floor. Blaine gave him 20 minutes and then fucked him again. It had been a great weekend. Kurt had definitely earned his trip to Paris.

Blaine came hard to the image in his mind and fell asleep. Maybe the darkness would let him sleep all night.

It did, but in its place, a new dream appeared.

Blaine had his back against a wall and was kissing someone. Passionate, demanding, needy kisses. The tongue in his mouth was soft and sweet, but tasted different. Different from Kurt. The kisses were hot and intoxicating. His head was dizzy and he was full of desire. He opened his eyes and looked into beautiful... green ones.

At that moment, the darkness thrashed within his chest and sent him flying to the floor. Blaine woke up feeling dazed. What had he been dreaming? The darkness was yelling at him. See? See what you've done? Now, we are in danger.

Blaine crawled back into bed. He was too tired to argue with the darkness. He fell back asleep.

In the morning, he remembered the dream.

But not what the darkness had said.

On Wednesday morning, Mike Huntel appeared in the doorway of Blaine's office.

"Good morning Blaine. How are things going?"

"Very well, sir. Thank you."

Mike walked in and sat down. It had been over three weeks since Blaine arrived. It was time to test him.

"What are you working on?"

"Background research for one of Greg Johnson's cases."

Mike nodded. "The Walker case. That can wait. I want you to observe a meeting with me. It's a divorce case. Jamison vs. Jamison. The wife filed for divorce because the husband is a horny rat. He's been screwing every woman he meets who says yes. She put up with it for years, but now she's had enough. He owns several businesses and properties, but like all rats, he is claiming broke and trying to get the wife to leave with a one time payment of $1 million. A joke. Catch is, we can't figure out where he's hiding the money. We've had investigators on the case, we've had a financial forensic specialist take a look. Nothing."

"Who is the attorney on the case?"

"Dave Taylor."

Blaine didn't say anything. Dave Taylor didn't like him. He probably wouldn't like him sitting in on his meeting, but Mike was in charge.

"Does Taylor believe the husband is hiding something?"

Mike frowned. "No. He wants her to settle for $1 million. I've told him that is out of the question. This firm has a reputation to uphold."

Blaine nodded. Taylor had always struck him as lazy.

Mike checked his watch. "Come on."

Everyone was already seated and had started when Mike and Blaine walked in. They quietly took seats in the back of the room. Taylor frowned and squirmed in his seat. He didn't like Mike observing his meetings and he certainly didn't see why the stupid kid had to be there. He shot Blaine a mean look. Why did Mike give him that corner office? Kid must be sucking his dick after hours. Or, screwing his bimbo daughter.

Mr. Jamison's attorney was speaking.

"Look, we can sit here all day, but you can't get blood from a turnip. Mr. Jamison does not have the type of money his wife seems to think he has. Our offer of $1 million is very generous and is being made at great hardship on Mr. Jamison's part."

Taylor sighed. "I think we all know that's bs. Mr. Jamison has plenty of assets. He's just not being forthcoming."

Blaine studied Mrs. Jamison. She had straight brown hair and brown eyes. She was pretty, but she looked tired, worn down and sad. This jerk had obviously put her through a lot. She reminded him of his mother.

Mr. Jamison was handsome, and he knew it. He had a cocky air about him and Blaine could feel his confidence. He was convinced this was a done deal. It was obvious he was lying. Blaine looked at the wife again. He felt sorry for her. She deserved more money for dealing with this asshole.

Taylor was verbal dancing with the husband's attorney. Blaine grew agitated. This was a waste of time. This guy was never going to spill his secrets. Mike was watching Blaine carefully. He leaned over.

"What do you think, Blaine?"

"The husbands definitely lying."

Mike glanced at Taylor, the husband, and back at Blaine.

"Think you could get the truth out of him?"

Without thinking, Blaine nodded.

"Would you like to try?"

Blaine looked at Mike in surprise. What was Mike suggesting? Of course he could get the truth out of this jerk, but that would mean questioning him directly. How was he supposed to do that?

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to ask him a few questions?"

"Is that legal?"

Mike smiled. "This is just a meeting, not a formal deposition. The information would be off the record. Of course...we would still be able to use it. Once it's out there, it's out there."

Blaine looked at the wife again. Her shoulders had sagged. He could see the defeat in her eyes. She was ready to just give up, take the million and go home. Blaine turned back to Mike.

"Sure. I'd love to ask him a few questions." Mike smiled.

Mike cleared his throat. "Excuse me."

Taylor looked up. What the hell does he want? "Yes?"

Mike addressed the husband's attorney. "John, the firm is hosting an intern this summer. This young man, Blaine Anderson. He's been observing, working on cases, etc. I realize this is highly irregular, but would you mind if he asked your client a few questions? Strictly off the record. Just as a learning exercise."

Everyone stared at Blaine. Blaine tried to look harmless.

John looked at Blaine, carefully. "Is he a law student?"

Mike answered. "He will be. NYU this fall." John looked at his client. "Do you have a problem with this?"

Mr. Jamison looked at Blaine in amusement. "Nope. But stop charging me while we're playing school." John looked at Mike and shrugged. "Fine with me."

Taylor looked like he was about to burst. "Uh, Mike? I think this is highly inappropriate and..." Mrs. Jamison interrupted. "I don't mind." She was staring at Blaine the way most women did. Blaine smiled at her and watched her melt.

Taylor pushed back from the table and threw down his pen. "Fine," he snarled and threw Blaine a nasty look.

Mike turned towards Blaine. Time to see if the kid was worth the investment.

"Blaine, the floor is yours."

Blaine stood up and walked to the table. His mind was racing. How was he going to pull this off? Usually when he made someone tell him the truth, it was one on one with no one else around. The only person he'd ever done this in front of was Kurt. Would anyone notice what he was doing? How did his grandfather get away with this? Suddenly, the darkness in him swirled gently. Reassuringly. Blaine took confidence in this and sat down across from Mr. Jamison.

"Hello, sir."

Jamison smirked. "Howdy."

Blaine decided it would be best to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"So, the economy has taken quite a toll on your business." A statement versus a question. Jamison looked surprised. "Why yes. It's been a tough economy the past few years. Cash flows have been down significantly."

Blaine smiled at him and nodded. "True. Real estate hasn't been much better." Jamison shifted and leaned towards Blaine, nodding. "Absolutely. It's been awful. I'm going to have to sell at a loss to come up with the money to pay her off." He shot his wife an evil look.

Blaine smiled and nodded again. "How many properties will you have to sell?"

Jamison launched into a rundown of what he owned, what they were worth and what he would actually get. Blaine kept nodding in agreement. Sucking him in. Taylor looked bored. The wife looked concerned. Jamison's attorney looked amused.

Mike was fascinated. His eyes never left Blaine's. He was waiting for the moment.

He wasn't disappointed.

Once Jamison was done ranting about his lack of funds and impending losses, Blaine went for it. He leaned forward and locked eyes with Jamison. Mike watched as Blaine's eyes turned three shades deeper.

"You don't really have to sell off properties at a loss to pay your wife, do you?"

Jamison stared into Blaine's eyes. He felt confused and trapped. And, a need to tell the truth.

"No."

"Won't you just withdraw the million from a secret account and pay her off?"

"Yes."

"Where are the secret accounts?"

"Two are in a small Switzerland bank. The Bank of Noemie in the town of Basel. The other three accounts are on the islands of Turks and Caicos."

"Do you own additional properties that your wife doesn't know about?"

"Yes."

"Where are..."

The room erupted.

Jamison's attorney started screaming at Taylor. The wife started crying and looking at Blaine in a mixture of joy and amazement. Mr. Jamison sat there looking dazed and confused, trying to figure out what had just happened. Mike grabbed Blaine and dragged him out of the room. He didn't stop until they reached Blaine's office.

"Well done!"

Blaine grinned.

"I know you want to do corporate law, Blaine. But, you should think about law that deals more directly with people. Matrimonial and criminal law. You have a way with people, Blaine."

Mike rambled on about the benefits of matrimonial and criminal law until Taylor appeared in the doorway.

"Well, David? What did you settle on?"

"$10 million cash payment for Sheila. She gets to keep the penthouse, the summer home in Martha's Vineyard, the yacht in Florida and a chalet in France she didn't even know he had purchased. She will receive $12,000 a month in alimony." Taylor said all this while staring sourly at Blaine.

Mike smiled. "Good job. Send her a hell of a bill."

Taylor frowned at him. "Uh huh. Yeah." He looked back at Blaine. "How did you..."

Mike interrupted. "Why don't you go get started on the paperwork? We wouldn't want John to change his mind."

"But..."

"Thanks Taylor. Nice work." Mike turned from him, signaling the end of the conversation. Taylor looked from him to Blaine. What the hell was going on?

Blaine remained silent.

Mike checked his watch and stood up. "Well Blaine, I have a lunch meeting. Great job today."

"Thank you."

Blaine noticed that Mike never asked him how he got the truth out of Jamison.

He looked at the clock. It was 11:30 am. 5:30 pm in Paris. He called Kurt.

"Blaine?"

"Hello, beautiful."

"Hi."

"Are you busy?"

"Mmm hmm. But, that's okay. What's up?"

Blaine told Kurt the entire story. When he finished, Kurt was silent.

"Kurt?"

"I'm here."

"Well?"

Kurt could hear the excitement and happiness in Blaine's voice. Once again, he felt like he was about to rain on Blaine's parade.

"Blaine...how did you explain how you got the guy to tell the truth?"

"I didn't explain. No one asked."

"No one asked?" Kurt was incredulous.

"No. No one asked."

"Don't you think that's strange?"

"Perhaps. Frankly, I don't think anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary. All I did was ask questions."

Kurt decided to drop it. It was obvious that Blaine was very happy and pleased with himself. Kurt didn't want to ruin it. Especially since this was the happiest he had heard Blaine sound since he arrived in Paris.

And, truth be told, Kurt was feeling guilty.

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

He had a new friend.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Daveed was a French architect Kurt met while wandering through the Louvre one Saturday. He was 25, gay, single and quite smitten with Kurt. Kurt made it clear that he belonged to someone else, but he was reluctant to stop going out with Daveed. Daveed knew all the real parts of Paris, the parts tourists never found. He also had an exciting and fashionable group of friends. Being with him was exhilarating. Kurt felt glamorous, sophisticated and alluring. He constantly reminded Daveed that he was engaged, but Daveed dismissed this with a wave of his hand.

"Engaged is not married, Kurt. You are too young and sexy to be tied down. You haven't lived yet. You haven't loved yet. One lover is not loving. It's boring. You need to have more lovers."

Despite his constant mentions of Blaine, deep down inside, Kurt knew he was leading Daveed on. He couldn't help it. He loved the new circle of friends and experiences he had access to through Daveed. And, he liked how beautiful Daveed made him feel. Kurt loved the compliments, the soft touches and gentle caresses. Blaine had spoiled him rotten and Kurt missed the attention. He craved affection. But, Kurt had no intentions of sleeping with Daveed, something he reminded Daveed of, daily. Daveed just laughed.

"So you say, Kurt. But I know men. Men need sex like air. Eventually you will start to suffocate and when you do, I'll be waiting to help you breathe again."

K-B-K-B

Kurt sighed into the phone. "I miss you Blaine. I really do." And he did. Daveed was a nice substitute, but he was no Blaine. No one could compare to Blaine.

"I miss you too. I wish you were here. Are you coming in August?"

Kurt hesitated. "I don't know. August is a busy month at the design house. We start rolling out all the fall and winter lines. Plus, I know you gave me the money, but seriously. Over $1,200 for a weekend visit? That seems ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous if we get to be together. Besides, we've spent that on just two shirts in your wardrobe. If it makes you feel better, find a cheaper ticket."

Kurt was quiet. He knew Blaine was struggling. He didn't ask him about his strength. He didn't want to know. Guilt, guilt, guilt. He decided to change the subject.

"So, when will you be dazzling the attorneys of HWV again?"

The tactic worked. Blaine started speculating when Mike might call upon his services again. Kurt kept his concerns to himself. They talked until he saw Daveed pull up in his silver Mercedes Benz. The car always reminded him to send Mercedes an email.

"Blaine, I need to go."

"Where are you going?"

"Dinner with a friend."

To Kurt's surprise, Blaine didn't ask anything else.

"Okay. I love you Kurt."

"I love you too."

"I miss you beautiful."

"I miss you master."