Blaine's hand shakes with excitement as he pulls out his key and opens the door to Kurt's loft.

Their loft.

He smiles as he corrects himself. Their loft. His and Kurt's. Blaine moved in a month ago so that they could start their new life together, and he doesn't think he could be happier. He's living the fairy tale he's always imagined, in the heart of New York City (sort of – Brooklyn might be considered the kidney, but it's close enough), going to the school of his dreams, and coming home to a gorgeous man who loves him, a gorgeous man he can proudly serve.

Blaine never thought he would ever say that. He never thought he would ever be okay saying that.

Because his fairy tale life has one unexpected twist, one he didn't see coming, with rules and boundaries…and punishments.

With Kurt's dominance and his own submission.

If someone had told Blaine back in high school that he would someday become another man's submissive, he would have probably been insulted, but he would have laughed them off, called the idea insane. From the outside, it seemed like submitting to another person went against everything Blaine believed in.

Little did he know that it didn't; he just needed a little education to see things different.

Looking back on his high school days, a time in his life when he felt the most in control, even when he was the man in charge – captain of The Warblers, Student Body President, head of the Debate Team - he could recognize that there was something missing. He searched for it after graduation, exploring different avenues, professionally and personally.

When he met Kurt - both of them auditioning for the same role in the musical Kinky Boots - Blaine knew. Kurt had an air of confidence that Blaine hoped he could someday attain. It drew Blaine to him effortlessly, called to something in him, pried open a door. Kurt was so upfront with him, so honest. When Kurt explained the intricacies of his chosen lifestyle, everything started to click. That something Blaine had been missing turned out to be a Master.

But not any Master – Kurt Hummel.

After months of dating and finally taking the step to move in together, they're still easing into this relationship. So far, the focus has been on Blaine – his comfort level, his hard and soft limits, his trust issues and how they pertain to Kurt. Kurt has been a part of the D/s scene way longer than Blaine, and Kurt wanted Blaine to be sure – 100% without a doubt sure – that this was what he wanted. He had even taken Blaine to some of his old haunts to meet former subs of his - not to brag, but by way of reference.

Kurt wanted Blaine to know that Blaine could trust him with his body as well as his heart.

There wasn't a single man they met who had anything bad to say about Kurt Hummel as a Dominant. It wasn't only reassuring for Blaine, but empowering to see how much these men gushed over Kurt…how much they still wanted Kurt.

But that honor belongs to Blaine now.

Blaine doesn't only belong with Kurt, he belongs to Kurt.

That's the arrangement, as outlined in the contract Blaine signed.

Blaine belongs to Kurt. His body is Kurt's to do with as he pleases.

Every time Blaine recites those words, even his brain tingles.

Part of the excitement of pledging himself to Kurt is that he never knows what to expect when he walks through their apartment door.

He's been greeted by a loft lit entirely with candles, romantic music, bubble baths, followed by long sessions where Blaine might be tied up, he might be cuffed, he might be chained. Or he might be bound only by Kurt's words, his sensual voice keeping Blaine still while Kurt chooses the method of torment - carefully modulated pain that leads to a pinnacle of indescribable pleasure.

Blaine opens the door, willing to surrender to the unexpected.

But what he gets is something he would have never guessed.

Kurt is there to greet him, as always, but not with the same warm, seductive grin he normally wears.

The look on his face is animal, predatory. There's no other words to describe it.

Kurt grabs Blaine the second he walks through the door. Bags are dropped, buttons popped and clothing torn from Blaine's body, the ruined articles thrown to the ground. The front door isn't locked. Hell, it isn't even competently shut. It hangs open a few inches, swaying in the frame with the cross-current of air swirling in from the open windows. Kurt doesn't lead Blaine to the bedroom, instead roughly bending him over the arm on the couch where any nosy neighbor passing by can peek in and see them.

Blaine wears a silver plug in his ass, engraved on the flat end with Kurt's monogram – a gift from his Dom, and required to keep him stretched. Stretched and ready at all times. Kurt removes it, tosses it to the couch cushions, and replaces it with his own hard, lubed-up cock.

There's nothing said between them. When Blaine opens his mouth to question Kurt, Kurt slaps his hand over it. Kurt takes Blaine hard. It doesn't last.

Kurt cums in a matter of seconds. He doesn't wait for Blaine.

Then Kurt pulls out, zips up, and leaves him.

Blaine feels cold when Kurt walks away. He lays still, listening to his Dom's footsteps fade into the kitchen, replaced by the sound of him filling a kettle for tea and putting it on the stove. Blaine slowly pulls himself upright and tugs up his jeans, wondering what in the world just happened.

Wondering, with his heart pounding in his throat, what might come next.

“Tea, pet?” Kurt calls from the kitchen, as if the sex from seconds ago meant nothing.

Because it did mean nothing.

“Uh…” Blaine squeaks, trying to match Kurt's detached attitude, but he can't. He bolts for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and throwing the lock. Hugging his stomach, he sits on the lidded toilet and starts to cry. He hears a knock but ignores it, a shame-filled anger brewing within him.

“Blaine?” Kurt calls through the door. “Blaine, are you alright?”

“Fine, Sir,” Blaine coughs, knowing he'll sob like no one's business if Kurt questions him again. But his answer must be convincing enough because Kurt returns to the kitchen without another word.

Blaine knows Kurt had expected him to be a good pet and open the door, but if Blaine opens the door for his Dom - if he opens the door for Kurt - he doesn't know what he'll do.

He might blow past him and leave the loft.

It's a long time of silent debate before Blaine stands from his seat on the toilet and opens the door. He had originally decided to wait until Kurt turned in for the night, but as time goes on he begins to feel emptier than before.

Empty because he misses Kurt.

He opens the bathroom door and sees Kurt sitting on their bed, waiting for him.

“Pet,” Kurt says, opening his arms to Blaine, “come here and talk to me.”

Blaine sees the comforting but unapologetic expression on Kurt's face, and Blaine doesn't want to. He feels hurt and somewhat betrayed. All that time they spent, those people they talked to - was it all pretense? Was Kurt playing with him? Blaine considers turning around and going back into the bathroom, locking the door, and spending the night in the tub, but the submissive in Blaine needs Kurt desperately. He needs Kurt to take the pain away. Pride gives way to obedience, and Blaine climbs up onto the bed, into Kurt's arms.

Kurt wraps his arms around him, kissing his forehead and carding gentle fingers through his hair. He runs his fingertips down Blaine's cheeks, wiping away his tears.

“You were crying, pet,” Kurt points out.

“Yes, Sir,” Blaine says with more sarcasm than he would normally dare.

“I don't understand,” Kurt says, his composure slipping, overwhelmed by genuine concern. “You said you wanted to be mine. You said you welcomed me using your body for my sole pleasure, that it was a fantasy of yours, giving me permission to decide without any need to consult you first.” Blaine doesn't say anything, doesn't agree or disagree. “It's outlined in the contract,” Kurt continues. “We discussed it at length.”

That's when it hits Blaine. He was so caught up in the thrill of being owned by Kurt, by being his possession, and then by the romance that Kurt used to woo him, that he hadn't fully grasped what being a possession truly meant. It wasn't Kurt's fault. He did go to great lengths to explain it. Blaine let his heart get ahead of him without giving his head time to catch up.

Now that it has, he feels foolish.

“You're right, Sir,” Blaine says, nodding his head against Kurt's chest, ashamed to show his face to his Dom now that he's realized his mistake. “I guess it took me by surprise. It was so…so sudden. There's no need to apologize, Sir.”

“I'm not apologizing, pet,” Kurt says, turning over and laying Blaine out beneath him so he can look into his sub's eyes, “but I don't like seeing you so upset. So just this once, I'm going to make it up to you.”

Blaine watches Kurt slink down his body, blue eyes glimmering with unguarded mischief as he undresses Blaine again, taking greater care this time with his clothes, with his body as a whole. This is nice. Blaine likes this, but now that he knows what being owned feels like, this lacks the spark, the fire of Kurt grabbing him unaware, of claiming his body, of treating him like a possession.

Kurt's possession.

Without Kurt's control, without his decision, their relationship would change, would soften, would lose that jagged edge that Blaine craves without knowing that he craves it. It might take getting used, might take bending his mind in new ways to break it away from the binds of social convention, but it's worth it.

Kurt often kids that ownership has its perks, but so does being owned.

It's worth it if he gets to be owned by Kurt.