“It's two in the morning,” Kurt grumbles when he reaches out an arm and notices his sub isn't lying beside him. “You don't have permission to be out of bed for another three hours, pet.”

“I know, Sir,” Blaine replies in a respectful but distant tone.

“So, come back before I have to get up and give you another spanking.”

“I'm sorry, Sir.” Blaine says, but he doesn't return to bed, distracted into temporary disobedience.

Kurt waits a beat longer before opening his eyes. He and Blaine haven't been together long, but Kurt knows that hitch in his sub's voice. There's a thought he's not sharing, a question that he's afraid to ask. Kurt sits up, blinking himself awake, but not too awake. He was in the middle of an incredible dream about their session from a few hours ago. He's hoping to get back to it as soon as he can. With no light on in the room and only a little coming from the window, his eyes don't need to adjust. He sees his pet right away, standing in front of the full length mirror, examining his skin, switching from his reflection to the view down his body. He turns at the waist, bends back, runs a hand over his ass and his thighs.

They'd started out slow, with just a few basic items from Kurt's toy box, but those definitely left marks. A motley jumble of bruises litter Blaine's skin – scratches, bites, welts, stripes from a cane, indigo and red splotches left by Kurt's hairbrush. The bruises had been one of the goals of their impact play that evening. Kurt had wanted to warm Blaine up and give him an introduction to the fine art of marking, but it wasn't too long before both of them got carried away. With his flesh red from spanking, the marks themselves hadn't been as vivid immediately after, but now, hours later, in the thin stream of light coming through the drapes, they pop with color against the canvas of Blaine's olive and tan skin.

Blaine had said he was proud of his marks, but Kurt sees concern on Blaine's face, a sheen of worry in his drifting eyes, and Kurt knows they're not going back to sleep any time soon. But that's alright. This is important. Until Blaine settles in to the specifics of this new lifestyle, things that Kurt understands firsthand can come as somewhat of a shock, this takes precedence.

“Alright, pet.” Kurt swings his legs over the edge of his bed. He doesn't even bother to find his slippers before he walks across the chilly wood floor. “Tell me what's on your mind.”

“I” – Blaine's eyes dart to Kurt's in the mirror as his Dom approaches – “I'm so sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to wake you. I shouldn't be…I'm sorry…”

“Well, I'm up,” Kurt says firmly, “so talk to me. What's going on?”

“It's just…I've never had bruises like these before.” Blaine pokes a finger at one particularly impressive swollen patch, the size and shape of a human fist, which was made with the hairbrush. “But these marks, I'm afraid of what people are going to think if they see them.”

“What people?” Kurt growls, snapping awake the rest of the way, ready to conduct a thorough interrogation on this subject. “Who in the hell is going to be seeing you naked besides me?”

“No one,” Blaine jumps. “I mean…the costumers down at the theater, the seamstress, they might see some of them while I'm trying on my costumes.” Kurt sighs against Blaine's neck, and Blaine relaxes. “I can say some of these are from falling on stage or whatnot, but the rest, I'm afraid they're going to think that I'm being abused…or that I'm hurting myself.”

“Hmm,” Kurt hums, acknowledging Blaine's conundrum. He can definitely sympathize. Kurt was a new Dom once. He remembered having those same concerns, the thought that some overzealous friend or relative would see the black and blues he left and call the cops. That never did happen, but the fear was always there. Kurt doesn't want this session that they did for themselves, for their own private enjoyment, to cause Blaine any anxiety, or make trouble for him at work. Yes, they'd gotten carried away, but Kurt had also been careful, confining his marking to places on Blaine's body that were easy to cover up, and not breaking his skin enough to bleed. He'd forgotten about the costumers fitting Blaine at the theater. The bruises from tonight's session still shouldn't be a problem, but Blaine's the one who has to live with them.

“Well, I can break out the body makeup and help you cover some of these up,” Kurt offers, “if you think that'll make your life easier.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Blaine says, relieved but not entirely reassured.

“But, you do know that it doesn't matter what everyone else thinks,” Kurt says, running his fingertips lightly over a grouping of scratches on Blaine's flank that he made with the edge of a screwdriver dragged along his sub's skin. “What do you think when you see them?”

Blaine's gaze travels from the stippling on his upper right thigh to the reflection of his Dom's eyes, peering at him over his shoulder, waiting for an answer.

“I…I like them,” Blaine admits. “I want more of them. I want as many marks as you can give me. I want them to ache, I want to be sore. To me” - Blaine pauses before he continues, till he's sure the word he has in mind is the right one – “they look like love. I mean, I wanted them, and you gave them to me. I know why I have them, and they mean something to me. They remind me of you…of us, together.”

“Then that's all that matters,” Kurt says. “You know, we have a rule about not discussing what happens in our bedroom with anyone else. You don't have to explain your life to anyone.”

Blaine nods, his eyes continuing to roam. Regardless of his agreeing, he still seems bothered, trying to resolve in his mind what he feels with what he sees with his own eyes.

“Blaine” – Kurt wraps his arms around his sub's torso – “are you happy here with me?”

“Yes, Sir,” Blaine says without a need to think it over. He leans against his Dom, thankful for Kurt's arms around him, making him feel safe. “Happier than I can remember being with anyone. But…is it wrong that this makes me happy?”

“No, it's not wrong. We love each other, we're committed to this, and you deserve happiness, Blaine,” Kurt whispers in his sub's ear, running his nose along the skin behind Blaine's neck, which always feels soft and smells like warm cedar. “If you're happy, then that's all that matters. Because the only person you really, honestly need to answer to is yourself.” Kurt gives Blaine a squeeze. “As long as your happiness doesn't hurt anyone else, then you're allowed to have it.”