Blaine sighs, but not too deeply, his body completely drained as he trudges up the stairs to Kurt’s and his loft. Blaine loves their rustic living space, so vintage chic, still brimming with an air of late thirties nostalgia from when the building was originally built, the bricks that comprise the walls soaked in it, fermented by it, turning simple red cinders into a silent testament to the end of New York’s prohibition era. The building itself, nestled in the heart of Brooklyn, overlooked by most everyone who passes it by, is a conversation piece to those who know of its rich history.

But on nights like this, Blaine wishes they could move to a place that has an elevator.

It’s been a long day.

A long ass fucking day.

Blaine never thought it would end. Even when the cast and crew were about to drop dead from exhaustion, each one of them praying that the director would call cut for the night, he’d yell at them to take it from the top…take it from the top…take it from the top, like some sadistic parrot. And Blaine, having spent about seven hours straight performing the same damn number over and over again, in platform boots no less, was about to collapse.

He didn’t know that he could come to somewhat hate something that he loves so much, but these late night rehearsals are starting to eat into him. He’s not ungrateful. He knows he’s a lucky bastard for having this shot, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. But rehearsing for a performance like this one is more hard work than your music, voice, and dance teachers tell you about…and they sure as shit tell you enough to make you want to run screaming sometimes, give up while you’re ahead, before you get smacked in the face with about thirty thousand rejections, each one worse than the last, all reminding you how not good enough you are. No matter how talented you think you are, no matter how blessed, no matter who you know, sometimes things still don’t pan out. Blaine knows so many people who aren’t making it, so many friends from high school that he thought for sure would have a better chance than him relying on their “fall back” careers to make a living. So Blaine thanks his lucky stars for his spinning head, his scratchy throat, and his aching feet every night that he’s living out his dream.

But he can still admit that, even as he fantasizes about the excitement of opening night, it still sometimes sucks, especially because it takes him away from the man that he loves.

Blaine fishes his key out of his pocket and fits it into the lock, smiling the way he always does when he gets home.

Performing on Broadway is his dream, but coming home to his Dom is the best part of his day.

Life with Kurt is a paradox - as much regimented schedules and rules as it is spontaneity and surprise. Just walking through the door can turn into an adventure in dominance and romance. For the most part, Blaine knows what awaits him, but really, anything can happen to him the second he walks inside.

And it does.

Blaine slides the door open about a foot and Kurt’s there, as if he’s been standing there the whole night, waiting for Blaine to come home. Kurt pushes the door open the rest of the way, grabs Blaine by the belt, and, without a word or a kiss, shoves him toward the couch.

Kurt has done this before, though not all that often. The first time was confusing and kind of humiliating for Blaine. It made him question how he felt about their relationship. But through conversation and guidance, Blaine gained a better grasp of how Kurt operated. Now that Blaine is more comfortable in their relationship, things are different than they were in the beginning.

But Blaine hasn’t been the only person adjusting. While he’s been absorbing Kurt’s rules and his expectations, Kurt has been learning about his sub – who he is as a person outside of their Dom/sub relationship as well as inside it, everything that makes Blaine tick, his likes and dislikes, his triggers and his limits.

They’ve been talking things out.

They’ve been learning.

They’ve been growing.

Kurt catches Blaine unaware, but when Blaine realizes what’s happening, he knows what to do. He pushes pride aside and goes with the flow, dropping his bag and his keys to the floor. He doesn’t flinch when Kurt tears his shirt open and a button pops off. He becomes pliant as his Dom maneuvers him, pulling his arms back so Kurt has easy access to his wrists. Kurt bends Blaine over the arm of the couch. He roughly yanks down his jeans, pulls out the plug that Blaine wears, and fucks him.

And Blaine takes it. Instead of being hurt by it, he understands it. He knows his place in their dynamic better, what it means to be owned. In fact, he’s found that on nights like tonight, he actually needs this. It’s cathartic, pushing aside the stress and chaos of the day and narrowing his focus to this part of him. It brings him back to center, gives him a means to slough off his rehearsal angst and leave it at the door. He’s even found a way to secretly satisfy his desires through this, too; not sexually, since Kurt doesn’t allow it, his thrusts in this position designed to come close to but not quite hit the mark. Being used for Kurt’s pleasure this way is emotionally satisfying for Blaine.

Fulfilling.

And being left in denial is a lesson, a reminder, one that Blaine welcomes. It will stick with him, carry through to the following day, resonate in his body when lesser fears and anxieties try to overwhelm him.

In a way, Blaine expected this. He’s been pulling an astounding amount of long nights in preparation for the opening of his show. He and his Dom haven’t been able to squeeze too many sessions into the cracks in their busy schedules. The frustration must be wearing on Kurt. Blaine needs Kurt, needs his dominance to help keep him on track, but Kurt needs Blaine, too.

Theirs is a reciprocal relationship, with each party giving as much as they get.

Kurt cums before Blaine can, but, of course, it’s not necessary for Blaine to finish at all in this scenario. This is strictly for Kurt – to stake his claim, to get off, to relieve his anxiety…

…to reinforce for Blaine who he belongs to, and that he can be used at any time, in any way.

Kurt pulls out and walks away, leaving Blaine to deal with his own cleanup, while a much more relaxed Kurt returns to his recliner and the magazine he was reading when Blaine came home. If Blaine was feeling bad about what just happened, which he’s not, that alone tells Blaine something important.

Kurt has been waiting up for Blaine. Kurt misses him.

Blaine stands from the couch. He grabs his plug and inserts it quickly, which Kurt requires Blaine to do after he cums.

An ass full of Kurt’s cum. Another mark of ownership.

Blaine pulls up his jeans and zips up the fly. He fixes his shirt as best he can with one popped button. He retrieves his bag and his keys and puts them away, closing and locking the loft door behind him. As he starts toward the kitchen to heat up his dinner, he stops at Kurt’s chair. He stands quietly, head bowed, waiting for Kurt to acknowledge him and give him permission to speak.

“Is there something you wanted to say, pet?” Kurt doesn’t look up from his magazine to meet Blaine’s eyes, but Blaine can tell that Kurt’s been reading the page he’s on for far too long. Kurt doesn’t sound as cocky as he was the first time he did this to Blaine. He doesn’t sound as unapologetic. He knows Blaine now, knows about his anxiety and his panic attacks.

Kurt is within his rights to use Blaine, as per their explicit, written agreement…but he still worries about him.

And Blaine, knowing how much Kurt worries, wants to give him reassurance that he’s okay.

“Thank you, Sir,” Blaine says, “for letting me be of service.”

Kurt looks up from his magazine.

Blaine smiles.

Kurt catches his breath.

Then, Kurt pulls Blaine down to his knees and kisses him hard.

“That’s my boy,” he whispers with a bite to Blaine’s lower lip. “Yan ang anak ko. Mahal kita…so much.”

Blaine chuckles lightheartedly. What Kurt said isn’t entirely correct, and his accent isn’t the greatest, but Blaine loves how hard Kurt tries. When Blaine entered into this relationship, it was exciting, but daunting. He saw himself trying to reach an ideal of the perfect submissive and failing miserably. But there is no perfect sub, Blaine has discovered. Nor a perfect Dom. And no one right way to be either. It’s just the two of them, working at this relationship, making mistakes from time to time, but mostly enjoying their lives and the fact that they get to spend them together.

And they’re in love.

“Je t’aime, aussi,” Blaine says, “so much.”