Kurt hears the door slam and jumps just a little. Blaine, such an even tempered man, never slams the door. Kurt dries his hands on a dish towel, abandoning what's left of the dirty silverware for later. He finds his husband pacing the living room floor, fingers bunching in his curls and tugging while he mutters under his breath.

Kurt sighs. Blaine is unique as far as subs go. He has a heart of fire and passion, whereas Kurt, Blaine's dom since high school, has always been the calm voice of reason. Blaine has his own infinite patience, but sometimes, very rarely, it all becomes too much – the need to prove himself, his ambition, his overwhelming desire to succeed – all qualities that many doms try to squash in their subs, but Kurt always encouraged, knowing that he would be the one to deal with the consequences, the occasional breakdowns when the stigmas of society overwhelmed his nature.

Just like the way Blaine is breaking down now. Kurt can see it in the way he scrunches his face to keep from crying; how he slips a shaky finger beneath his black leather collar, the one with Kurt's initials embossed in silver, and tugs as if he's trying to keep it from strangling the life out of him.

It's heartbreaking to Kurt because that collar, a wedding present, is as much a symbol of Kurt's love for Blaine as it is a symbol of Blaine's place in society, a step beneath everyone who gets the honor of wearing a silver ring. Kurt twists his own silver ring on his finger subconsciously. He's just as much a part of this hierarchy as the people who would look to stamp out Blaine's enormous talent, simply because of his station.

Kurt approaches Blaine slowly, trying to decipher some of his mumblings without startling Blaine with his presence.

“Deserve it just as much…got that job on my own…just as talented…mine was better…”

Kurt sighs.

“They didn't like the new song?” Kurt says soothingly, trying to slide into place beside his husband in the path he has started to wear into the carpet.

“It's always something,” Blaine continues to mumble, though Kurt is sure that Blaine heard him, “never good enough…just an excuse…”

“Blaine,” Kurt says more firmly, stepping in front of his sub and stopping his forward momentum with secure hands gripping his forearms. “Blaine, I need you to stop.”

Kurt sees Blaine's red-rimmed eyes flick up, sparking just slightly in their hazel depths with recognition, a response to his dom's voice engrained in the entirety of his being, body and soul, since birth; inherited over hundreds of years, back to the time when science could determine that genetic mutation in human DNA made an inexplicable shift, and the designations between doms and subs began.

Blaine stands still with his arms still raised, his lost puppy look locked on his features as he awaits his dom's next command.

Kurt breathes in deep; a silent, biophysical cue that helps Blaine calm his own breathing and relax. It doesn't just help Blaine physically, it reaches straight through to his core, to where atoms combine to form molecules, where mitosis occurs, and new cells are created. Kurt breathes deep and renews life for Blaine, and Blaine relaxes, his body and mind at peace.

“It sounds like you had a bad day,” Kurt says sagely.

“Horrible,” Blaine responds, his voice tired, meek in a way that Kurt despises.

He loves the strength that Blaine always has, even in the face of adversity.

Kurt loathes those who would take it away.

“What shall we do, hmm?” Kurt muses. “I'll let you choose. Chains or cuddles?”

“Can we do both?” Blaine asks, eyes darting up to meet Kurt's beneath a fan of dark lashes, his tan cheeks pinking demurely.

“I guess we could if the situation warrants it,” Kurt teases.

“It does,” Blaine replies, his sweet smile dying just a bit at the corners.

“Very well,” Kurt says, his tone a wash of comfort over Blaine's frazzled nerves.

Kurt undresses his sub carefully, peeling the layers of the day away with each article of clothing until all of Blaine's pain and worry is laid bare at Kurt's feet. Kurt is glad to see it gone. As handsome as Blaine looks in a finely tailored three piece suit, Blaine was never meant to be trapped in something so stiff and oppressive. Kurt always preferred a much more dressed down Blaine – cotton polos and bright colored jeans, sunglasses with brightly colored frames.

Or deliciously naked, just like this, with the exception of that damned collar.

Kurt raises his hands to undo the buckle, but Blaine reaches up his hands to cover it.

“Please?” Blaine begs. “Please, leave it on?”

Kurt blinks away his own sadness and smiles.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I'll leave it on for you.”

Kurt leads Blaine to their bed, bedspread pulled back to reveal the soft Egyptian cotton sheets underneath. He lays Blaine down, positioning the pillows beneath his head, and for the first time since he stormed his way into the house Kurt can see the shadow of a smile forming on Blaines lips, desperately fighting to reach his eyes.

“That's it, my love,” Kurt coos. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

Gently Kurt binds his sub's body with chains – smooth silver chains wrapped around his wrists above his head, connected to a ring on their bed; a length around his knees, and another around his ankles. They restrict Blaine's movement and keep him secure. To that Kurt adds the weight of his own body, pressed into Blaine's side, his head resting beside Blaine's on the pillow where he can whisper and hum and sing into his ears, all the while touching him. Kurt's long, lithe fingers work through Blaine's curls, easing out the knots Blaine made by fisting handfuls of his hair. Kurt scrapes his nails lightly over Blaine's scalp and smiles when he hears the contented sound of his sub, his whole body melting into the bed.

Kurt's fingers travel over smooth, tan skin; fingertips rubbing soothing circles into stiff muscles along his temples and the apples of his cheeks. A delicate hand strokes carefully down the column of his neck. The flat of his palm massages the firm, flat planes of Blaine's chest and along his sides.

There's only one place Kurt doesn't touch, and that's Blaine's cock, wanting to avoid building the kind of tension and anxiety that comes from being teased in chains like this. He will reserve that for later when they get the night to make love.

In this way, with gentle touches and sighs of praise, Kurt lets his sub fall blissfully to sleep while he watches protectively in this haven of light and love where the arm of society cannot reach no matter how hard it tries, and they can simply exist together as husbands, and soulmates, and in Kurt's mind - equals.