A/N: First, I apologize for the ridiculously long wait! I have no excuse other than real life and other WIPs, which I think are both valid excuses, so y'know, w/e. Anyway, this is the conclusion to what was intended to be a one-shot, and I'm going to say this preemptively: There will not be a sequel, so don't beg, please. It just makes me feel guilty that I can't provide!

Warnings/Kinks: D/s elements (similar intensity to Part 2); light bondage; production/viewing of a sex tape; light, blink-and-you'll-miss-it humiliation; facials. Everything sexual is done with love, safewords, and mutual consent.

I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading! :)

They managed to keep their relationship a sweet secret for themselves for nearly a month.

Those three weeks following their first night shared with one another in Kurt's bed were some of the best three weeks of their lives. Kurt took Blaine out on trips and excursions—always making sure to plan carefully ahead of time in an effort to avoid attention whenever possible. Kurt knew the tabloids tended to devote more stories to him when the new fashion seasons came around, bringing with them new designers, new clothing styles, and more high-class fashion shows around the world. He always seemed to make it back into the public eye in the early spring and fall. But the original photos of Kurt that Blaine had shot nearly a month ago were soon to drop in a fifteen full-page gallery in the latest Vogue magazine. Kurt knew his privacy was limited. As soon as the pictures got out into the world, people would be talking about him again—and undoubtedly of the talent of the photographer whose name no one recognized, printed underneath the pictures in a fine white font.

Kurt was careful in choosing where to take Blaine. When he wanted to bring his boyfriend to a beach to watch the sunset, he avoided Santa Monica and went to a more private location. There was an extensive monetary cost for renting out a whole section of privately owned waterfront property, but Kurt strongly preferred the security of knowing they'd be alone rather than having to deal with glancing over his shoulder and looking for any signs that he'd been recognized by tourists. Somehow all of his sleuthing worked, and the new couple managed to stay under the radar... until they didn't.

It was an average Wednesday evening when Kurt and Blaine were caught by the paparazzi for the first time, walking back to Blaine's apartment from dinner at a quaint, hole-in-the-wall café.

They seemed to appear out of nowhere, as they often did, suddenly shouting Kurt's name and scrambling to get around to the front of the couple, walking sideways and backwards to keep their cameras trained in the right direction. After years of being subject to their tactics, Kurt was accustomed to the invasiveness. Though it was never something he'd enjoy, he'd learned to tolerate the inevitable. Everyone had to make a living somehow, he supposed, even if it was in being an obnoxious creep.

But Blaine had never been between a circle of men with cheap, back-turned baseball caps and poor clothing choices, shouting and asking a million questions, their dozens of video recorders and still cameras pointing straight at his face, bombarding their peaceful walk with bright flashes and the constant click of a dozen shutter buttons. Though Blaine was powerful behind the camera, he'd never been so exposed in front of one before. His reaction was instantaneous, tripping and nearly stumbling over his own feet in overwhelmed surprise. Though he recovered quickly, Kurt could feel his tension from the few inches that separated them. Blaine's muscles were defensively tightening, uncertain and even a little afraid as he forced his legs to keep moving forward.

They weren't ready to go public; not yet. They'd talked about and agreed that now was not the time, so Kurt knew he couldn't take Blaine's hand. All he could do was shift a bit closer, letting their shoulders brush. It was a pitiful mockery of what it meant to be a steadfast, comforting Dom, and in that moment Kurt detested himself for not having prepared Blaine for what they were experiencing. He'd been trying so hard to hide their budding love away from prying eyes that he'd neglected to make sure his boyfriend and submissive wouldn't feel endangered once those prying eyes ultimately broke through Kurt's fantasy of we're the only two people on earth.

The model was accustomed to questions about fashion and upcoming events, usually the paparazzi's go-to inquiries (though Kurt was sure they were often simply parroting off babbles of words they'd memorized from their supervisors; they had no real clue what they were asking). Today, however, the questions were noticeably different.

Some went the faux-polite route, hoping Kurt would appreciate their fabrication of manners and grace them with a word or two: "Mr. Hummel, who's this attractive young man with you?" "Have you known him long?" "Is he a friend from college?"

Others were much less PC, trying to get a response from Kurt by working him into an angry state: "Who have you been sneaking around with?" "Kurt, who's the kid? Did you pick him up off the street?"

And of course, they badgered Blaine just as harshly—if not even more so—like sharks smelling blood and preying on the weak: "What's your name?" "Are you dating Mr. Hummel?" "Do you know this guy next to you is a model?" "Where'd you meet Kurt, kid?" "What's your name?" "Tell us your name!"

Kurt put an arm around Blaine's back, whispering a stiff, reassuring command, "You don't have to answer anything," into his ear as he continued to lead him down the street. The men with their cameras followed, a pack of insistent wolves snapping at their heels. Their bright lights mounted on their cameras to illuminate their targets made Blaine squirm at Kurt's side, squinting and turning his head away, but he had nowhere to look that the lights weren't burning. Through the haze of noise around him Kurt distantly recalled their day at the beach when Blaine had worn sunglasses all the way up until the sun was halfway below the horizon. "I have stupidly sensitive eyes," he'd said with a shrug, commenting on the bright reflection across the water, "Too much light gives me a headache."

"Back off, please, guys," Kurt said to the crowd around them. "You're hurting his eyes." Blaine shook his head, blinking blearily at his Dom, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

"Who is he?" one of the men asked, entirely ignoring Kurt's request for more space, but instead getting even closer to Blaine, "Huh? What's your name, Curly?"

"Back off," Kurt hissed, fixing the man with a glare. Again, the swarm of paparazzi refused to comply. The Dom could feel his anger rising as they tormented his submissive. Though he knew there was nothing that could be done to avoid instinctual responses, Kurt forced himself not to let it manifest in the form of a physical altercation. He didn't want to be one of those celebrities who couldn't handle a bit of a paparazzo's taunting without throwing a punch.

Thankfully, they had only been about two blocks away from Blaine's apartment building when the swarm had arrived. Before too much longer, Kurt was able to punch in a four-digit security code on a dirty keypad that automatically locked the lobby door after 7 PM. He ushered Blaine in first before stepping in himself, making sure they were out of sight before he finally let himself take Blaine's hand. Kurt remained silent while they climbed the stairs up to the third floor and Blaine kept just as quiet, emulating his Dom's actions. He fished his keys out of his pocket and after fumbling for a few seconds, was able to push one into the lock on his apartment door covered with ancient, chipped paint.

With the thin walls, there was no telling if Blaine's neighbors could overhear their conversation or not, but the enclosed space gave the illusion of being safely alone.

"Oh my god, Blaine, I'm so sorry," Kurt spoke in a frantic voice as soon as they were inside, "I should've known they'd show up eventually and done more to make sure you were ready to handle it. That was so irresponsible of me."

"Kurt, it's fine," Blaine brushed him off, shrugging.

"No, Blaine. It's not fine. I let you down."

"I'm okay," he insisted, "Right as rain."

"Baby, you're shaking," Kurt observed softly.

The sub lifted up his arm, staring down at his hand. Sure enough, light tremors were rattling the muscles beneath his skin. "Oh."

"Come on," Kurt said, "Let's get you to your bedroom."

Kurt used the term 'bedroom' lightly. In truth, it was just the corner of the one main room apart from the closet sized bathroom that made up Blaine's living space, where a small bed and old side table with a reading lamp were divided from the rest of the apartment's mismatched furniture by a cheap privacy partition that looked like Blaine had bought at a low quality flea market.

Blaine sat on the edge of his bed, letting Kurt move in beside him and run a hand down his back. After the springs of the old mattress quit protesting the shifting weight, it was quiet for a few seconds, emphasizing the disjointed urban symphony of noise around them: the clunky rumble of the AC unit on the window that looked out over a well-graffiti'd alley, a barking dog somewhere down on the street, the muffled laughter and screams of playing children a few doors down the hall. Kurt wondered how Blaine ever got any sleep here. As if in answer his eyes wandered to a pair of earplugs on the nightstand, their tips coated with the tiniest film of dried wax that hadn't been cleaned off since earlier that morning. It really was a rather gloomy place to live. Kurt wondered how long it would be—if ever—until Blaine might consider moving in with him, or more importantly, if he would even want to continue exploring this relationship after what had happened today.

"I'm sorry," the Dom said again, at a loss for anything but apologies.

"I know," Blaine replied, "I forgive you."

"You shouldn't be so quick to forgive, Blaine," Kurt warned softly, "You have every right to stay mad at me."

"How can I stay mad if I wasn't mad in the first place?" Kurt didn't have an answer for him. Blaine continued, "Those guys freaked me out, yeah, but it's not your fault they ambushed us."

"But it is my fault that you weren't prepared," Kurt tried to reason, "I should have told you more about what it's like. I should've said how to handle—"

"Nothing you could've told me would have made that first time any easier. I think you know that."

"Well, I still feel sick to my stomach about it," Kurt said stubbornly. Blaine leaned into his side, pressing his lips against his Dom's cheek for several lingering seconds. "It's okay," he whispered.

Kurt nodded stiffly, clearing his throat. "Are you alright, though?" he asked gently, squeezing Blaine's thigh. "All those camera flashes…"

"Pretty bad headache," Blaine admitted.

"But that's all?"

"That's all. I'm fine."

There was a lull in conversation. The AC unit idled off into silence. The barking dog had long since moved off, and the kids down the hall had quieted down. Blaine took a few deep breaths, rubbing roughly at his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut from time to time, face contorted like he was trying to shove the pain out through his ears.

"Baby?" Kurt asked, keeping his voice low to lessen the agitation to Blaine's discomfort. "I know this probably isn't the ideal time for your head to be engaged in a discussion, but we really need to talk about what happened and how we're going to respond in the short-term, even briefly."

"'kay," Blaine muttered. He dropped his head sideways onto Kurt's shoulder. When he offered nothing else in response, Kurt took the lead.

"They have pictures of us, Blaine," he said bluntly, "By tonight they'll be online. By the end of the week they'll be on every gossip magazine at the grocery store checkout lines. They don't know who you are, but there will be speculation for sure." He hesitated, trying to find a balance between the need to protect his submissive and his desire not to impede Blaine's freedom. "I'd, um… I'd really prefer if you'd lie low for a few days—at least when I'm not around," Kurt told him cautiously, "to try and let it blow over a bit, you know? If the sharks with cameras have questions they can come swimming to me. I don't want you getting harassed on your own."

"Is that an order, Kurt?" Blaine asked, "You want me to stay inside?"

Kurt sighed, "It's a suggestion. I just want you to stay safe, baby. That's all. I don't want them cornering you and making you uncomfortable because you were seen with me today." Blaine nodded. "And I'd understand completely if you didn't want to see me again after this…"

"Don't be stupid," Blaine mumbled, not even dwelling on the words, "I always want to see you." The Dom smiled, unable to avoid taking pride in the simple, assured statement. "But on that note," Blaine said a moment later, "you probably should get going before the—what'd you call them? Sharks with cameras? You should probably get going before they start getting suspicious of how long you're sitting in this ratty apartment complex with a stranger."

The Dom didn't seem too enthralled with the idea of leaving Blaine alone. "Let them get suspicious," he dismissed, "They're gonna talk regardless of whether I leave or not."

"They saw you come in here with me. If you don't come back out again, they'll know you stayed the night. Think of all the rumors, Kurt…"

"I've handled gossip before," Kurt replied, suddenly feeling desperate. His protective instincts were flaring up like a bad allergy, set off by the horde of paparazzi. If he left Blaine he wouldn't be here to protect him from the whirlwind. But if he stayed he was opening a whole new world of problems. Both options screamed an accusing alarm of 'Irresponsible Dom!' in his head. Which one was the wiser choice? Kurt didn't know what rules applied to their situation anymore.

He shook his head, murmuring, "I can't leave you, Blaine. I don't think I can handle it."

"Listen to me," Blaine told him, threading their fingers together and squeezing his hand, "If you stay here without telling the guys outside anything, they'll jump to conclusions themselves. What if they think you paid a prostitute or something? I may be a bit of a cockslut for my Dom, Mr. Hummel, but I'm no whore."

"Blaine," Kurt shook his head, exasperated.

"I'm serious, Kurt," he insisted, "Go. Just go and tell them you were dropping off a friend or something. They don't have to know anything else, but as long as you tell them something you'll keep the rumors in your power."

Kurt sighed. He knew that Blaine's argument was certainly logical—as far as the gossip industry worked, at least. He still didn't want to leave his sub, though. Grasping at one last attempt to convince Blaine that his presence was imperative, Kurt asked, "Baby, what about your head?"

"My head will be fine," Blaine assured him, "I'll just take some meds, get an ice pack, and become a recluse in the dark for a while."

"You sure?"

"I've handled migraines since I was twelve, Kurt. I promise I'll be fine," he smiled to prove his point, eyes squinted in the most adorable fashion. "Now go. You can call me in the morning, and I'll answer to tell you that I'm safe and sound."

Kurt nodded slowly, finally giving in. He wasn't quite done, though. "Get ready for bed," he told Blaine in a calm, authoritative voice. "I'm gonna go get your headache necessities. Put on whatever you want to sleep in—PJs, underwear, sweatpants—then I want you under the covers by the time I get back. Alright?"

"Yes, Kurt." Blaine smiled sweetly at his Dom, happily relinquishing control as Kurt stood up and walked the six feet it took to get to the tiny kitchen area along the wall. He glanced through the cupboards and drawers until he found a pale blue ice pack, then cracked some ice cubes out of their tray, refilling the empty molds with water from the sink before sliding it carefully back into Blaine's freezer. After twisting on the lid and filling a glass with water, Kurt headed to the bathroom to grab two pills from the bottle of store-brand Excedrin knockoff in the medicine cabinet.

When he stepped back around the privacy partition, Blaine was snug in bed just as Kurt had requested, his eyes already closed and the covers pulled up to his bare chest. His pants and shirt had been tossed in a heap on the floor. Kurt grinned at the sight, setting everything down on the nightstand. "Sit up for a second, baby," he said gently. Blaine lifted himself up with one hand, swallowed the pills Kurt offered him and chased them down with a few swallows of water. When he flopped back against the pillow Kurt leaned over to kiss his forehead tenderly before he rested the cold pack of ice against it. "There you go."

"Thank you, Kurt."

"Of course. It's my job to take care of you," Kurt whispered, stepping around the bed to draw the curtains on the window, shutting out the light that bothered his sub's eyes. "I'll call you in the morning. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed calmly, "Night."

"Goodnight, baby." The Dom started toward the door, taking care to walk silently while he heard Blaine shift into a more comfortable position, yawning into his pillow. Just as he reached for the knob, Blaine sleepily called his name. "Hm?" he sent the inquisitive noise back across the room.

"Love you."

It was the first time either of them had said the L-word. It wasn't exactly the way Kurt had envisioned it in his mind either. This wasn't the sweeping romantic moment he'd anticipated, perhaps post-coital or after a passionate kiss. Surprisingly… it was even better.

"I love you, too," Kurt said in return, simple and honest. "Get some sleep."

"M'kay. I think I'll dream about you." He could hear Blaine's smile as he stepped out and pushed the locked door closed behind him.

As Kurt predicted, the social media storm following his photographed outing with Blaine was both swift and torrential. He broke his self-imposed no-Googling-his-own-name rule to see what the world was saying, feeling like he could make an exception where Blaine was concerned. The photos with too much light exposure were on every page he navigated to, and Kurt wanted to cringe at every last one. He wore a blank, calm expression in most of them, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was tense. On the other hand, Blaine—poor Blaine—looked downright tortured in most of the shots, his moments of discomfort captured for eternity: squinting, turning away, lips drawn tight, hands clenched at his sides while he forced himself not to reach out for Kurt. Just seeing the still cues of his body language captured on screen spurred a desire in the Dom to rush to Blaine's apartment and scoop him into his arms.

The images were hard enough for Kurt to look at, and he was a seasoned professional at paparazzi. The last thing he needed was Blaine catching sight of his own scared face, and he felt no shame or hesitation in ordering his submissive not to go looking for them, no matter how much his curiosity nagged at him.

"What's done is done, and there's nothing we can do to change it," he explained over the phone, "but I don't want this bothering you anymore than it already has. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine replied simply. He was actually relieved by the command. It took the pressure off of his shoulders, knowing that the twisted need to defend himself and what he had with Kurt from anonymous screen names dropping hateful comments was out of his hands.

They tried their best to maintain a sense of normalcy while they waited for the opportune moment to go public. Though it would be simple to do, Kurt didn't want to release some statement to the highest paying magazine so they could turn his very personal news into some impersonal, exclusive, front page celebrity bombshell. He wanted to do it as naturally as possible, despite the fact that it would be inherently unnatural due to his fame.

The opportune moment finally arrived when Kurt received an invitation to a fashion show happening in downtown Los Angeles at the end of the month of June. The show would be highlighting rising stars of the industry—new, fresh faces from design schools around the world who were expected to make a splash in the upcoming fall season. It would be a well-documented event, but not quite as covered as the big name designers' shows were. The smaller scale made it safer, and Kurt had his driver pick Blaine up and drive him over to the mansion to ask him to attend in person.

Of course Blaine said yes, and two weeks, two tailored suits, and a limousine ride later, the couple was queued up near the red carpet, moments away from a milestone they could never take back nor retrace.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Kurt asked a little anxiously, glancing out the dark-tinted windows at the crowds outside. "If you're not, I can tell the driver to take you back home. He'll keep going, and no one has to know you were even here. They'll think I came alone."

"Kurt, I'm sure I'm ready," Blaine replied evenly, for what had to have been the tenth time. "Are you sure? This is more than just about me. This is going to change things for you, too."

"You've already changed everything for me, baby," the Dom smiled, "This is just showing the world how much."

"And you don't mind? You won't resent me when people get jealous and we get hate mail?"

"They have every right to be jealous," Kurt shrugged, "I've got the perfect best friend, boyfriend, and submissive wrapped up in one gorgeous package with a cute little bow tie," he said sweetly, flicking the black accessory around Blaine's neck. "I'm ready to show off my greatest asset."

Blaine bit his lip to stifle an overly-large grin. "Then let's do it."

"Okay."

When the limousine pulled up into the drop-off area, the door was opened for them and Kurt stepped outside, raising his hand up to tell the man beside the car to wait when he looked prepared to push the door shut again. "You brought someone along, Mr. Hummel?" the man asked, filling in the blank.

Kurt nodded briefly, feeling his heart starting to pound restlessly in his chest while Blaine slid over the long leather seat and finally planted his feet on the edge of the red carpet. He looked down in a bit of awe, clearly trying to focus and live in the moment so he wouldn't miss a thing. Kurt's eyes gleamed with affection and pride, and he reached over to pat Blaine pat on the cheek, gently gaining his attention. Reacting naturally to the touch, the submissive looked up at his Dom's face, instantly echoing Kurt's smile with one of his own.

"Shall we?" the Dom asked.

"Yes, Kurt." Blaine let the tiniest hint of submission color his tone while he rose from his sitting position and took his first few steps away from the car. Everyone was watching, some trying to be more discreet than others, while Kurt pulled his hand out of his pocket and slipped it into Blaine's. They threaded their fingers together with ease, united in the face of a hundred flashbulbs, suddenly going off like a tidal wave of stars.

Blaine pulled in a steady breath to steel himself. This was a completely different situation from the paparazzi ambush. He and Kurt held the power here. They headed further onto the carpet and Blaine waited off to the side with a cluster of other plus ones, publicists, and assistants to watch Kurt pose for a lineup of photographers. He handled the mass of demanding shouts and bright flashes like a seasoned professional, giving them a full minute of his trademark modeling expressions before returning to Blaine's side and continuing on their way to press.

"Your eyes doing alright, babe?" Kurt asked, brushing his hand down past Blaine's pocket to make sure he'd slipped in a pair of sunglasses just in case the bright lights became too much for him.

"They're fine," he promised.

"Good. Still, let me know if your head starts hurting." Though the carpet was shorter than Kurt was used to and they'd be inside fairly soon, he knew from experience that lighting at fashion shows could get a little wild. He didn't bother to mention that he'd also brought along a tiny pill box with medication just to be safe. The last thing he needed was for Blaine to feel miserable from a migraine, especially when he could tell that Blaine was already feeling a little nervous.

Kurt had run Blaine through a basic "Press Line 101" course before they'd arrived, informing him as best he could of what to expect once they began interviews. Blaine knew he'd be a topic of conversation, and he'd prepared himself to give out his name a few dozen times, proving to have been a wise decision when the first interviewer, representing Entertainment Weekly, curiously asked for more details about Kurt's date within the first fifteen seconds: "Who's this handsome man you have with you tonight?"

"I'm Blaine Anderson, sir," the submissive introduced himself formally, offering his hand. The interviewer shook it while Kurt took a moment to brag on Blaine's behalf.

"We met at a photoshoot I did a few months back. This guy's responsible for the new spread in the latest issue of Vogue that just got released last week."

A spark of recognition clicked in the man's eyes as he made the connection between the name he'd read in the magazine credits and the one he'd just heard spoken. "Oh, I see! Such great work, Mr. Anderson! Really, really brilliant."

"Thank you so much," Blaine blushed a little, and Kurt squeezed his hand.

Their work on the photoshoot continued to be praised as the pair made their way down the line of press, speaking into shared microphones and standing close together while video cameras filmed their short interviews for dozens of media outlets. Many of the questions were already designated to be asked of Kurt—of course everyone had expected him to be coming alone—but a few of the reporters broke away from their original plans to include Blaine in their conversation as well.

"Are you two gonna be like the new Brangelina?" one young woman asked with a chuckle, clearly excited to have the chance to talk to Kurt Hummel's new boyfriend and get the latest scoop on their budding love life, "How would you feel about a supercouple name?"

Blaine shook his head in disbelief, unable to suppress an amused grin which he politely tried to hide against Kurt's shoulder, momentarily forgetting that the entire world would see the footage of the gesture online. A mumbled, awkward, "Oh god," left his mouth with a nervous chuckle as he stood back up straight, but Kurt remained calm, releasing Blaine's hand for a moment to pat the small of his back out of the camera's sight, reassuring him that it was fine.

Without missing a beat, Kurt laughed it off, "As long as they don't start calling us something like 'Blurt,' I don't really care what they say," casually adding, "We're just a normal couple that happens to be a bit in the spotlight."

They made it past the carpet without any major incidents. Kurt heard Blaine let out a massive breath of air as they finally stepped inside the building, and he rubbed his shoulders for a few seconds, easing his tight muscles, "You were great, baby."

"Yeah… I guess so," Blaine said slowly, still a little dazed, "So we're out to the world now, huh? Officially."

"Officially," Kurt echoed with a thoughtful nod, "Feels sort of good, though, to know I can hold your hand whenever I want."

"Yeah, it does." Blaine threaded their fingers together to prove the point, and they headed off to find their reserved seating near the front row by the runway. Occasionally Kurt paused to chat with acquaintances in the industry, always making sure to introduce Blaine and put in a good word for his photography skills.

After brushing shoulders with a particularly high-ranking member of the fashion community—who noted Blaine's incredible work in Vogue and hinted that there might be a few job offers for him soon—the photographer had to take a minute to catch his breath, stunned by the magnitude of the turn his life had taken.

"Just so we're clear," he told Kurt as they took their seats, "I'm not in this relationship for the industry networking."

Kurt laughed, "Though it's an undeniable perk, right?"

"God, yes. I thought I'd be doing graduation and wedding photos for twenty years before anything big came up... Then this just fell in my lap," he waved his hands in the air to illustrate the absurdity of the situation.

"Actually, you sort of fell into my lap after the shoot," Kurt teased, "Pulled my pants down, too, if I remember correctly."

"Oh, hush. You know the effect you have on me."

"Mmm," Kurt leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, thrilled that he could do such a thing in public, "That I do."

As they'd been hoping, the media storm surrounding Kurt Hummel's new 'man candy' died down after the first few weeks, turning into old news as other celebrity stories came to light and stole the consumers' short-attention spans away. Blaine and Kurt were more than happy to be out of the limelight again, and they felt a new sense of freedom in being able to go wherever they wanted without the need to hide their relationship from everyone they passed.

Kurt made it clear early on that his home was already Blaine's, whenever he wanted, but the practical college graduate thought it best to remain at his own apartment except for frequent visits and sleepovers, feeling more secure having a place of his own, at least until they were both entirely certain that their love would be forever. It was a mature choice which Kurt respected, though he couldn't help an occasional, passing guilt from living in luxury while Blaine slummed it out in a neighborhood across the city.

He shared his luxury with Blaine whenever he could, however, which proved to be increasingly often as the months progressed. An unspoken agreement seemed to fall into place after their first time together that sex was to be had at Kurt's and nowhere else. It was simply safer that way—more private—and Blaine had to admit his Dom's huge, soft bed was infinitely more comfortable than his own. A memory foam mattress was a lot easier to get fucked into than one made of hard, squeaky metal springs.

Naturally, as their love grew, so did their courage to explore new sexual horizons. An afternoon discussion of fantasies and kinks led to Kurt pose the question of bondage. Though it hadn't held much interest for him previously, Blaine had agreed to try it with an open mind and a single condition, "As long as we don't do anything, like… hardcore. At least not the first time."

"Like what? Define your limits of hardcore."

"Like handcuffs," Blaine said, "Nothing that has to be physically unlocked to get out of. I wanna be able to know that I could get free quickly if I needed to. Having to depend on a key that could get lost or something would just make me nervous. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense, Blaine," he assured. His words sounded clipped and incomplete. Blaine remained silent, waiting for his Dom to overcome his slight hesitation. "And, um—just out of curiosity," he stressed, "h-how would you feel about making a sex tape?"

After that, their conversation led to a proper amount of preparation and ultimately to the bedroom on the following night, where Blaine's arms were tied meticulously to the headboard with a few of Kurt's scarves. The sight of Kurt setting up a tripod and HD camcorder a few feet from the bed was enough to make Blaine's naked body break out into a sweat and his cock twitch with interest.

"Okay, Mr. Photographer," Kurt smirked, putting Blaine into focus on the lens, "It's your turn to put on a show…"

"Kurt, please," Blaine begged weakly, "Want you so bad."

His chest had gone from heaving to lighter rises and falls, but his body was still alight and tingling from the rush of his orgasm, drying cum still a bit wet on his abdomen. The dildo had been wiped down with a cloth and tossed to the side, and Blaine could see the signs of Kurt's erection clear as day in his pants, all but breaking through the button and zipper. Still the Dom ignored it just as he'd ignored it the entire time he'd worshiped and teased and worked Blaine's body into a frenzy over the past half hour.

"Shh, baby, I know," Kurt soothed, stroking his face, "I want you just as badly, I promise. Just hold on a minute, okay?"

Blaine relented quietly. "'kay."

The Dom leaned in and kissed his lips with a soft smile, "Thank you," then slowly reached up to undo the silken knot around Blaine's left wrist, massaging the skin beneath the pads of his fingers and listening to his sub groan in leftover pleasure while his taut muscles trembled into a state of momentary relaxation. Kurt did the same with Blaine's right, pulled the scarves free, and draped them over the edge of the bed.

"C'mon," Kurt patted Blaine's side to rouse him, "Up, baby. Bring the scarves for me."

"Kurt," he whined, eyes fixated on the telltale bulge in Kurt's pants. He licked his lips. "Need you."

"Patience, Blaine," Kurt said firmly, "Get up. Bring the scarves."

The orders kept his boy docile, submissive, and secure in his headspace. He nodded once and grabbed the scarves, sliding off the bed and standing nearby while Kurt grabbed the camera off of the stand and headed out of the room and down the stairs, the sub following close at his heels.

They ended up in the den, and Kurt directed Blaine to kneel on the carpet and keep quiet, which he did without complaint, settling down in silence and holding the scarves in his naked lap. Kurt wandered over to the massive flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Working quickly, he plugged in a handful of cords littered across the floor and adjusted a few settings on the television. After having practiced this setup a few times earlier that day to become familiar with it, he was a pro, and within a minute Blaine found himself staring at his own image, laying back, tied up on Kurt's bed, frozen like a sculpture while the video sat on Pause.

His jaw fell open. They were going to watch the sex tape they'd just made? Holy fuck.

Kurt turned to his sub with a sultry grin, walking over to him and running a hand through his curls. He beckoned with a single finger as he moved to a wooden chair set up purposefully in the middle of the room, and Blaine stayed down, crawling forward to kneel at Kurt's side.

"Do you know what we're gonna do, baby?"

"Watch?" Blaine assumed.

"Mhm," Kurt nodded, "What else?" He spread his legs casually, letting his hand ghost over his crotch in a less-than-subtle hint.

"Make you come." Blaine stared up at Kurt with wide, hungry eyes, "Please, let me."

"You're gonna suck me off, pretty boy," Kurt told him. "You're gonna watch me tease you. You're gonna have my cock in your mouth while you watch me play with your gorgeous body and make you moan. Gonna see just how good you are for me, baby. Would you like that?"

Blaine whined and let out a rush of loud air, trying to breathe. "Yes. Fuck. Yes, Kurt, please let me."

"Give me your hands." Kurt settled them in his own lap and took one of the scarves from Blaine, carefully binding his wrists together and lacing the silk all the way up Blaine's joined forearms in an intricate, weaving pattern of loose but sturdy knots. With the second scarf, he tied Blaine's arms to one of the chair's rungs that connected two of the wooden legs. It positioned Blaine's head right between Kurt's thighs, within perfect view of the television, and the sub couldn't resist mouthing at the fabric of Kurt's pants until a gentle hand pulled him back so the Dom could shimmy them down and toss them to the side. Just like the first time they'd done this after the shoot so long ago, sans bondage, Kurt was wearing nothing underneath.

"Keep your eyes on the screen," Kurt commanded. "I don't want to see you looking away unless I tell you to. Understand?"

"Yes, Kurt."

"Since your mouth will be otherwise occupied, eye contact will be your safeword," he continued, "Even a glance and I'll immediately bring us to a stop. Are you comfortable with that, or would you prefer a different tactic?"

"Eye contact works fine for me."

"And if I tell you to look at me, obviously nullifying that safeword for the time being, what would you like to replace it with?"

Blaine thought for a moment, resting his head on Kurt's thigh. "Blinking three times?" he suggested.

"Show me." Blaine obeyed, deliberately closing his lids in a slow but purposeful succession. Kurt nodded, "Any questions?" Blaine shook his head and Kurt smiled, brushing his thumb over a high cheekbone. "Alright then... That's my good boy," he praised, easing his voice into a gentle lull to begin, "Now take your time. The video goes on for quite a while—no need to rush things."

When he spoke again, Blaine's voice was tentative, sounding rather young, "Kurt?"

"Yes, baby?"

"What if I get hard again?" he asked bashfully, already feeling the unmistakable thrum of arousal coursing through him purely at the thought of the erotic situation.

Kurt smirked, letting out a tiny chuckle and patting Blaine's cheek. "You can come if you need to, but only as long as you keep serving me. Fair enough?"

He nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Kurt," Blaine sighed gratefully, pressing a doting kiss to his Dom's inner thigh.

"Of course, sweetheart. Good boys always get what they need, Blaine," Kurt reminded. The sub nodded in agreement, and Kurt lifted the TV remote up from the small table positioned just within arm's reach. "Open up, pretty thing." Blaine's jaw instantly loosened, and he shoved his head forward, extending his neck to slide down around his Dom's length. Kurt hissed at the sudden sensation, using a trembling thumb to hit 'Play' on the remote.

Blaine's eyes stayed fixed on the screen just as he'd been told, though Blaine doubted he could've looked away even if he'd been allowed to. The sight was incredible. It was like watching porn, only unimaginably better. Hearing himself moan and cry out was otherworldly, and Kurt's high definition, surround sound, immensely expensive speakers mounted around the room were all turned up loud enough that not a single gasp or whimper went unheard. Blaine had never experienced anything like it, groaning in sympathy with his moaning doppelganger onscreen at the image of Kurt stroking his sub's cock to its full length, uttering dirty words of encouragement all the while. Blaine remembered what it felt like—it had only happened less than an hour before—and he sucked intently to keep himself focused on the task at hand, ignoring the temptation to give into trembling muscles and let his mind get washed away in the unbelievable heat of the moment.

As their film progressed, Blaine came to the distinct realization that watching it was like being dominated twice over—by the Kurt onscreen, currently fucking two fingers in and out of his ass, and by the Kurt looming above him, who'd taken hold of Blaine's curls to move him how he liked, bobbing him back and forth while carefully taking note of Blaine's limits and not pushing too close to the back of his throat. Even with the added layers of dominance and control, it was all entirely Kurt, and Blaine happily drowned in it.

Though he remained quiet for the most part, letting Blaine's attention be held by the footage, Kurt murmured a few words of praise every now and then between muffled moans of pleasure. "So good for me, Blaine. Do you see how good you were earlier? Laying back so loose and open, begging me to fuck you?"

Blaine whined low in his throat, shuffling forward on his knees, no doubt in search of friction judging by the look of his erection. Kurt grinned. "Need a little help, baby?" he purred. Blaine whined again, and Kurt took pity on him, curiously watching his sub's reaction as he nudged Blaine back far enough to pull his own leg around the front of the man's naked body. It took a bit of doing to navigate past his sub's bound arms, but eventually Kurt was able to slide his leg forward across the carpet to press against Blaine's torso, and Blaine understood his plan in an instant, shamelessly rutting forward against Kurt's bare calf. It added a slight shade of humiliation to their brew of kinky exploration, making Blaine hump his leg like a dog, but by the same token, permission or not, Blaine was ultimately using Kurt's body like an object—as a means to an end—to help relieve his tension. Though Kurt maintained control, they were still very much partners in their balancing act of instinct.

By the time the video had progressed to the use of the dildo, Blaine was completely absorbed, watching himself squirm and plead and pull at the restraints. Kurt could tell when his body switched to autopilot under his hands, hips thrusting against his leg in time with the thrust of the toy onscreen, in and out of Blaine's puckered hole. His neck was completely pliant, given over to Kurt's tugging and pushing, though his lips continued to provide suction and his tongue created delicious drag along the veiny underside of the Dom's cock.

"You're drooling all over my expensive carpet, baby."

Blaine's wide, glazed eyes blinked slowly as his ears registered the sound of Kurt's voice emitting not from the speakers, but from the Dom himself. He let out a muffled grumble in response, sucking in loudly as if in attempt to slurp up the saliva that was already trailing down his chin. Kurt laughed and pressed his leg harder against Blaine's dick, pulling a whimper from his chest. "Gonna make me come, baby," he gasped a second later, voice cracking as his body gave a light shudder, "so fucking hard."

The words seemed to pull Blaine back into focus, and though he never took his eyes from the screen, he worked harder to bring Kurt's orgasm to light, wishing for a moment that he had the use of his hands so he could cover more area. The wooden chair groaned in protest as the pair rocked toward bliss, rungs and joints quaking beneath their weighted force.

Between gasps, Kurt hissed two words out between gritted teeth: "Off, Blaine!" The hasty exclamation caught the sub by surprise, but it was clearly not a command said in alarm—just a sudden change of plans. Blaine's jaw loosened as Kurt drew him back with one hand, using his other to fist tight around himself. The sub could see telltale jerking movements out of the corner of his eyes. "Fuck, baby. Look at me." Blaine obeyed just in time to catch the transformation of Kurt's expression, the tension in him snapping like the drawn string of a bow as he came, hot and sticky across Blaine's face and into his waiting, open mouth.

Cum mingled with sweat on his brow, and Blaine blinked slowly as a strand slid down over the bridge of his nose, hearing Kurt pant as he worked out the last drops and smeared them on his sub's cheek. It only took a few more thrusts rubbing against Kurt's skin before Blaine's own release arrived, strangely close to the recorded final shout of pleasure he'd howled out an hour earlier in Kurt's bed. He rode it out with heavy breaths and finally bowed his head down against the seat of the chair, nestled against Kurt's crotch and a few stray drops of his Dom's cum.

For some time after, everything was still. His ears rang and the world tilted, but Blaine hardly noticed Kurt bending over him to reach down and slip the loose knots of the scarves free, massaging his palms against the sub's skin to make sure the blood was flowing. "You with me, baby?" he whispered in a soft voice, carding his fingers through damp curls. Blaine grunted.

"Is that a yes?" Kurt chuckled.

"I think so," he mumbled back, licking sticky salt from his lips.

Blaine wasn't paying much attention to anything except his afterglow, but somehow Kurt's shirt found its way up over his head and the Dom pressed it to his face gently, wiping him clean. "I didn't really warn you ahead of time that I was gonna do that," he said bashfully, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize; it was hot."

"I thought so too," Kurt agreed, "You look good with my cum, baby."

Blaine huffed out a laugh and slowly stood on wobbly legs, leaning down over the chair to steal a passionate kiss and feel Kurt's nails scratch gently at the nape of his neck. "Well," he said with a cheeky grin as he pulled away, "I know one thing for certain."

"And what's that?" Kurt asked, already smiling and prepared to roll his eyes.

"If this modeling and photography thing doesn't work out for us, we could always do porn!"