Kurt doesn't like bringing work home with him. He doesn't want that stress hanging over his head when home is supposed to be a safe-haven from the world outside his door, but sometimes it's unavoidable - especially lately, when he has more deadlines piling up than he knows what to do with. At least he enjoys his job. Whoever said that if you find something you love to do you'll never work a day in your life hit it right on the money. Kurt couldn't be happier with his life at Vogue. It's just certain parts of it he could do without.

Like this one.

He thumbs through sketch after sketch, searching out worthy hopefuls from a pile of, frankly, mediocre talent, for next month's online edition of Vogue's Styles to Start Stalking. Kurt blinks his dry eyes, the designs in front of him blurring together, shifting and melding, until he doesn't know if he's looking at one horrendous outfit, or if his mind has taken three questionable looks and mashed them together. He needs to go to sleep. He has to get up at five again this morning to have any hope of accomplishing everything he needs to do before Fashion Week gets into full swing.

But he can't close his eyes until Blaine climbs into bed with him.

In bed with work put away, technology off, and lights out by 12:30 – that's the rule. Bedtime is normally 10:30, but with Blaine headlining his first Broadway show, set to open in a few weeks, and rehearsals going into overtime, the details of their contract have been altered temporarily. Sometimes they don't make it in to bed until two, but that's okay. Kurt is a flexible Dom. He knows how important this show is to Blaine. It wasn't even a question in Kurt's mind that he would bend the rules to accommodate Blaine's schedule when necessary, when it's important, when Blaine asks properly, but one fact still remains – it's Kurt's responsibility to see to Blaine's welfare, and that means they go to bed together.

Kurt made the rule, so he really can't break it.

He can't be inconsistent with his sub.

Now if Blaine would just get his ass to bed like a good boy, they can get a few precious hours of much needed sleep.

Kurt glances at his iPhone and checks the time.

12:26.

He shakes his head.

Blaine's cutting it close. If he's not out of the bathroom and under the covers in four minutes, there are going to be consequences.

Kurt's tired brain urges him to call out to his sub and tell him to hurry up, but Kurt clamps his mouth shut until that urge passes. Blaine knows the rules. If he breaks them, he needs to be held accountable.

Kurt sets the sketches on his bedside dresser and folds his hands in his lap, waiting for the arrival of his sub. He knows that stage makeup is difficult to remove, but with the new skin care regimen Kurt put Blaine on – a brand new series of make-up removers and overnight products by MAC - it shouldn't be taking this long.

He looks back at his phone.

12:28.

Kurt starts to get concerned. What if something is wrong – really wrong? Something that Blaine isn't telling him? Something that happened during rehearsal? Blaine was unusually quiet all the way back to their apartment – not the bubbly, ball of energy he had become since being cast in his role - but Kurt didn't say anything. He chalked it up to exhaustion. He had a pretty severe case of it himself, so he could relate.

Blaine's been burning the candle at both ends just like Kurt.

When this is all over, Kurt has hopes of taking his good little boy on a vacation. He hasn't mentioned anything yet. He wants it to be a surprise getaway. Maybe to a resort that caters to collared couples. Isabelle had told him about a nice place in the Hamptons. It might be worth looking into.

Kurt decides he'll give Blaine till 12:30. If he's not out by then, Kurt will go to the bathroom door and ask what's wrong. This isn't like Blaine. Yes, there was a time when Blaine was late to almost everything – lunches, dinner dates, classes. He didn't know how to prioritize his time. But a little incentive and a strict punishment/reward system put an end to that. It's been months since Blaine's had a relapse.

No. There has to be something wrong.

Kurt grabs the edge of the comforter, ready to get out of bed, when the bathroom door opens and Blaine walks out, slightly damp from his shower, his hair curled from being washed and gel-less (which Kurt requires). He stands at the foot of the bed, completely naked (also a requirement – not for Kurt though, who has on a cotton tank and a pair of sleep pants) since Kurt demands total unfettered access to Blaine's body at all times in their living space. Blaine keeps his head bowed but Kurt can see his face, his skin irritated and red, as if it's been rubbed raw.

“What happened to you?” Kurt asks, crawling out from under the covers to examine his sub's face. “Are you allergic to something in the makeup? Or in the remover I bought?”

“No, Sir,” Blaine answers. “The new waterproof foundation they started using tonight was harder to remove than the stuff they used before. I'm sorry it took so long getting it off, Sir.”

Kurt grips Blaine's chin with his fingers and moves his face from side to side, tsking at the ruddy patches on his cheeks.

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt coos, letting him go, “next time you should ask for help.”

“I know, Sir,” Blaine replies. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

“Well, you'll remember for next time,” Kurt says, climbing back to his spot on the bed, making himself comfortable while Blaine obediently waits. Kurt leans back on his pillow and watches Blaine with a proud smile at the corners of his mouth, hidden there so Blaine won't see. “You may come to bed now.”

Blaine kneels on the bed, looking at Kurt through lowered eyelids and long, thick lashes. When he hesitates, Kurt sits up.

He knew it. Something is wrong.

“What's going on with you, Blaine?” Kurt asks firmly but softly. “Is there something you're not telling me?”

“No, Sir,” Blaine answers quickly, eyes on Kurt's shirt – on the collar of the tank just below the hollow of his neck. “It's just, I know it's late, and I know you're tired, but…

“But, what?” Kurt asks. “You know that if you want something you need to ask. The worst thing I can do is say no.”

Blaine nods. He knows, but he gets wary like this when he doesn't want Kurt to say no. When he needs Kurt to say yes.

“I want to hold you, Sir.”

Kurt chuckles with relief. “Is that all? Then come hold me.” Kurt reaches for Blaine, arms outstretched.

“That's…not what I mean,” Blaine says with a heavy swallow, his gaze moving down Kurt's body. His eyes, dark and unassuming, stop at Kurt's waist, respectfully not going any lower. He doesn't need to look. Kurt knows what he wants.

“I see,” Kurt says, disappointment masking his desire. “You know I'm tired, Blaine.”

“I know that, Sir,” Blaine answers, hopeless, certain that Kurt's going to scold him and then have him sleep on the floor.

Kurt hasn't ordered Blaine to sleep on the floor in a long time, but Blaine had prepared for the possibility.

“And you and I both have a big day tomorrow.”

“I know that, Sir,” Blaine says, hanging his head lower. “I should have realized. Forgive me, Sir.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. Blaine doesn't just look tired, he doesn't just look sorry. He looks overwhelmed.

Blaine isn't looking for pleasure. He's looking for comfort.

“But I'll allow it. Just for a little while,” Kurt says, shifting down the bed to get more comfortable. “Until I fall asleep.”

Blaine smiles. It's small and it's sweet, and it makes Kurt privately happy.

Happy that he can be what Blaine needs.

Blaine climbs up the bed and kneels by Kurt's side.

“Pull these down for me,” Kurt commands, watching Blaine grab the waistband of his pants and tug them down slowly, waiting for a command to stop. The cotton pants slide down over the swell of Kurt's ass and past his momentarily flaccid cock. “That'll do,” Kurt says, and Blaine stops.

The obedient boy he is, Blaine waits. Even though he has implied permission, he waits until Kurt commands him.

“Lie down here with your head on my stomach.” Kurt lifts up his shirt so he can feel Blaine's curls rest against his skin – one of the reasons Kurt prefers Blaine to go to bed product-free.

Blaine climbs beneath the covers and rests his head on his Dom's stomach, against skin that's smooth and soft and warm, and smells soothingly like Kurt. He likes Kurt's smell here more than anywhere else. It's less affected by the artificial fragrances that surround Kurt - his shampoo, his conditioner, his aftershave. The body wash he uses fades quickly here, and what's left behind is his Dom – strong, masculine, natural.

It's Blaine's favorite scent.

Kurt covers Blaine with the blanket, tucking him in to keep him from catching a cold. Together beneath this comforter, they share each other's heat. That's the way of life with them – sharing one another's energy, their love, their devotion.

What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, on a physical and spiritual level.

Blaine curls further into Kurt's side and takes a deep, calming breath, his entire body relaxing at the touch of Kurt's skin against his cheek.

“May I?” he asks, the words felt instead of heard as they flutter across Kurt's skin, weeding beneath and raising bumps.

“Yes, you may.” Kurt closes his eyes when heat starts to pool in his stomach. He needs to relax or this will turn into something else really quick, and that's not what Blaine needs.

Blaine touches Kurt only with his lips and his mouth as he holds his Dom. Blaine sighs at the taste, the gesture so innocently erotic that Kurt has to twist the comforter tight in both hands to keep from grabbing the back of Blaine's head. He lets his mind wander, lets his thoughts bleed away, losing himself in the warmth of Blaine's mouth and those pouty lips wrapped around him. The edge still exists, growing within that pool, but Kurt nudges it to the side, trying to forget it.

“Mmm, back off a bit,” he mumbles, “with your teeth, baby, and just…stay still.”

Blaine taps Kurt's thigh to show he understands. He opens his jaw but closes his lips, creating a seal that keeps the inside of his mouth warm and wet – the way his Dom likes. But Blaine's method of staying still includes licks around the head, barely touching, a gentle caress from the velvet of Blaine's tongue against Kurt's skin.

Kurt feels himself grow inside Blaine's mouth, and a renewed energy sparks inside him, but it doesn't quite catch fire. Kurt quells the urge – the urge to move, the urge to shove Blaine down over him, the urge to fuck his pretty mouth. It's a strange dichotomy – his body growing hard with want while his mind tries to ignore it and pull him into sleep. Usually Kurt can stave off sleep for the sake of his sub, but this time – after his early morning, the long hours at Vogue, and then meeting Blaine at his rehearsal after – he isn't going to win.

And neither is Blaine. Blaine's breathing slows. His tongue comes to a stop, his mouth falling gently closed.

There's an empowering sense of peace that comes over Kurt with the knowledge that Blaine is comfortable, that he's safe and asleep, and Kurt drifts off himself before his cock softens.