Kurt Evans stood outside in the refreshing New York autumn air, taking a much needed break from the stuffy office. The maintenance crew still hadn't fixed the air conditioning unit on their floor. Looking at his watch, he saw he had just a few more minutes before he was supposed to be in Isabelle's office. She would be going over his latest articles for Fashion Week. It was his first time covering the big event and her confidence in him had pushed him to excel. He was sure she would love his articles, she had been his biggest supporter since she had hired him before He had graduated from college just six short months ago. New York University had prepared him for working in the world of journalism and he was taking it by storm.
Loosening his tie, he took a last deep gulp of fresh air before heading back inside. Moving toward the elevator, he scratched his neck under the tie that was more itchy than usual. As he stepped through the door, he froze, realizing what he had done. Rushing into the nearby bathroom, he locked the door behind him and went to the mirror. It was a close call. He had almost blown everything.
Glaring at the deep blue mark at his throat, he tightened his tie and fixed his collar so it was hidden. That mark had been the bane of his existence for six years and would be for the rest of his life. He was an expert at hiding it, however, aside from stupid mistakes like this one.
There was no way he could risk the people in his life finding out he was a submissive. That was Kurt Hummel. Now he was Kurt Evans, Dominant. He kept the deep blue collar around his throat covered in makeup and clothing. The mark had shown up when he had turned sixteen. He had been certain he would be a Dom, but on the morning of his birthday, he had received the shock of his life when he saw the open collar mark on his neck. Subs were marked with a blue open collar – which looked like a blue birthmark – to indicate they were unClaimed by a Dom. The instant they were Claimed, the collar would be closed. It served to show they were Claimed and to protect them from other Doms who may take advantage of a subs instinct to obey. The claim made it so the sub's Dom would be the only one who could dominate them. Before then, any Dom could direct a sub, though it was considered sub abuse. At sixteen, Doms woke with an open black band around their wrist with the opening on top. When they Claimed a sub, the band would close.
When Kurt woke up the morning of his birthday, he knew his life was going to change and not for the better. The thought of having to obey random Doms for the rest of his life made him sick. That very morning he had come up with an idea to save him. Over the following two years, he had ironed out every wrinkle in his plan. He had applied to a bunch of colleges, most of them on the west coast. He got accepted to several and nobody, not even his dad, knew he'd applied and gotten into NYU. The month before he started college, he had moved to New York, gotten an apartment and put the plan into motion. He had saved up every penny, working long hours after school and on the weekends, in order to be able to afford his own place. He could not risk living with someone. He legally changed his name to Kurt Evans – borrowing his friend Sam's last name – and spent more of his hard earned money on a very illegal tattoo for which he had had to travel to a rather unsavory neighborhood in a disguise. The black band around his wrist was always on display, as most Doms did for easy identification. Every shirt was rolled up past his sub mark so there was no mistaking who and what he was. If he was found out, he would go to jail. Impersonating a Dom was a felony. He could spend many years behind bars if he was found out.
Since his 'change', he lived alone, went to school alone, and never, ever, dated. He would do nothing to risk exposure. Even if it meant he spent the rest of his life alone. He only spoke with his father and a few select friends over Skype and never told anyone where he moved to. When he'd moved, he'd told everyone he was scared that Karofsky would try to find him. Right up until graduation, Karofsky had continued his aggressive abuse towards Kurt and it only made his story that much more realistic.
For entertainment, he went out to clubs with acquaintances. He loved to dance and as much as he was alone, he never suffered for lack of a dance partner. He gave off enough attitude to pass for a Dom so subs would typically come up to him and ask him to dance. More than once, he'd wondered why subs were fooled as he lacked the chemical makeup that attracted Doms and subs, but he figured it was all in the confidence he exuded. He had even had two subs ask him to claim them. The moment the first request was presented to him, his jaw had dropped. He had had to make excuses as to why he could not accept them. Every time he danced with a sub or had a conversation with one, he once again asked Fate why he had not been marked a Dom. He felt like one, acted like one, had the presence of one, but he was stuck with the stupid collar.
. . . . . . . .
That Friday, he decided to go dancing. A few of his co-workers were trying out a new club and Kurt had decided it sounded like it would be a much needed dose of fun. He went home and dressed in his typical 'going out' outfit. Black skinny jeans a gray silver t-shirt and a shimmery silver scarf tied jauntily around his neck. He could not risk makeup at a club due to the threat of sweat, so he had to be absolutely certain that his scarf stayed in place.
The club, "Collars", – the name of which made him cringe – was in an upscale neighborhood, lights flashing inside and out.
Kurt lost himself in the crowd on the dance floor, the deep bass pushing him to sway and undulate to the beat. Hands came from behind him to rest on his hips. For the first time in forever, the heated hands stirred something deep inside him. His body woke up, his cock hardened, and he could not resist rolling his hips, moving back into the tall body behind him.
"You know how to work those hips, sexy," a deep voice whispered in his ear.
Kurt shuddered at the sound, goose bumps breaking out across his entire body. He gave an extra kick to his hips and the man hummed in his ear. Kurt's alarms went off when the man slid his nose down his neck toward the scarf. Executing a quick turn, he put his arms around the neck of the tall man, smiling coyly.
"Ooh, and the face matches the hot body," the man said, bright green eyes flirting with him.
"Not so bad yourself," Kurt commented, smiling up at him.
Sebastian Smythe could not believe the beauty of the creature in his arms. He had first been attracted to the swaying hips he had seen across the dance floor. The way he moved his body was entrancing, enthralling, and so sinfully sexy, Sebastian knew he had to have him. When he had placed his hands on those magical hips, he had been shocked by the word that had practically shouted out from the Dominant depths of him. "Claim". He had never even thought of Claiming a sub before. He was too young and had too much going on in his life to be able to give the needed time to foster a solid relationship with a sub. But this creature, this man, this beauty made him rethink his own arguments.
"What is your name, beautiful," Sebastian asked.
"Kurt. Yourself, tall and gorgeous?" Kurt flirted back.
"Sebastian. But you can call me Master. Tell me you're not Claimed," he demanded heatedly. He had to know that he could have this man.
Kurt backed up and slid his arms down Sebastian's, his heart pounding. He had to end this little thing now. When their hands were clasped, he held them up to show Sebastian. "Sorry, Sebastian. We match," he said. Without giving Sebastian time to really look at his fake mark, he twirled away and left the dance floor. Stopping at the bar for a bottle of water, he snuck a look back at the dance floor. Sebastian was staring at him and coming toward him. Shit. Time to leave. Kurt swiftly headed for the door and didn't look back.
Sebastian hurried to the door, but Kurt was gone, lost in the crowd headed outside. Going back to the bar and ordering a whiskey straight up, Sebastian was confused. Everything in him had told him Kurt was a sub. He had always trusted his Dom instincts. Not to mention, that was how nature paired Doms and subs up. They had to trust their instincts. How could he have been so wrong? But the black band on his porcelain skin was proof. Kurt was a Dom. Shaking his head, he knew he could not give it anymore thought. He would just start to question himself and that was something he never did.
He had always been confident in his own abilities. He had proved it over and over again, starting when He had graduated high school at sixteen, college at nineteen, and passing the bar exam at nineteen. At twenty one, he became the youngest partner ever at Chang Figgins and Schuester, which was now, thanks to a lot of dedication and hard work, Chang Figgins Schuester and Smythe. He had been a lawyer for four years now and was the most successful partner at his law firm.
That night, he went home and found himself staring out the window of his high rise apartment. He didn't see the sights of the city below him. All he could see were beautiful blue green eyes glowing out of a pale face that stunned him with its beauty. Even in the dim lights of the club, those eyes had been visible, flirting and sexy. Sighing heavily, he shook his head and headed to bed. If that mark had not been on him, if he had seen an open collar, he had been prepared to change his entire life for that man. Instead of being relieved that he wouldn't be tied down, he found himself saddened. He felt cheated. Kurt would have been his, he would have Claimed him right then and there. Drifting to sleep, he melted into a dream featuring the beautiful creature. Except in his dreams, there was a beautiful blue open collar decorating his pale throat. He took the creature in his arms and watched as the collar magically closed, signifying that he belonged to Sebastian.
. . . . . . .
For weeks, Sebastian found himself obsessed. Every time he saw a tall, lean figure with brown hair, he would go up to them and tap their shoulder. More times than not, he even saw the telltale blue collar around the man's neck. Unfortunately, none of the men were Kurt. He wished he could get him out of his mind, but the situation was hopeless. He was taken with another Dom and it made no sense to him what so ever. He even Googled the situation. Doms attracted to Doms. It was literally unheard of. Physically, a Dom would never be attracted to another Dom, it simply was not in their physical make up. Doms were wired and chemically bound to find subs attractive, to want to claim them, to protect and love them. He realized he was spending more time contemplating the mystery that was Kurt than he was working and tried his best to put the man out of his head. He was better at fooling himself than he was at being successful.
. . . . . . . . .
Kurt could not believe the day he was having. First he had been called out by his editor, Claiming he had multiple mistakes on his latest article. Now he had been called into a meeting with the editor in chief and other leaders of the magazine and website who wanted to talk about changes to the direction the magazine was taking.
The mousy, smarmy little asshole Percy was there, ready to call Kurt onto the carpet. The man was a sub who was determined to get Kurt's position. He was jealous of Kurt from the beginning. Kurt was always able to cut him down, using his words like a sword to make the little punk shudder and withdraw, his sub instincts telling him to back down. Kurt had learned long ago how to resist those sub urges, thanks to Karofsky and other bullies. Now he was able to hold his own in an argument, whether sub or Dom. Dom. The word brought up one face in his mind. Sebastian. The golden brown hair with the exquisite jade eyes, the green so thoroughly enchanting, the sight had haunted his dreams and many of his waking hours. Any shade of green caught his eye now. Any shade but that beautiful jade was now ugly to his eyes.
It was as the editor in chief and the chief executive officer were arguing that his world changed forever.
The worst thing imaginable happened, the thing Kurt had successfully hidden for six years. All because the room was a tad bit too warm. Caught up in the flying words between his leaders, he reached up and scratched his overheated throat as it tingled and itched under his scarf. He was so intent on listening and getting his own arguments ready that he didn't realize his fingers had frozen in their scratching. He did not know that the irritating, freakishly mouse-like Percy had been watching him, waiting for his moment to throw Kurt under the bus. That Percy was watching when Kurt began twitching in the heat. He was watching when Kurt raised his hand to scratch at his throat. He saw when Kurt's fingers went lower under the scarf, unknowingly pushing the scarf down. Percy the Mousy was watching when his sub mark was revealed, the deep blue mark standing out sharply against the pale white flesh of Kurt's throat. Percy's eyes widened and he gasped though nobody noticed. Nobody but Percy put two and two together and learned the shocking truth behind the indomitable Kurt Evans. The man who, he now realized, never wore anything that exposed his neck. It was either suits or scarves, always. Kurt Evans the Dom, writer extraordinaire, fashion guru, was actually Kurt Evans the submissive. Looking down at the sub's wrist, he knew the answer, loud and clear. Kurt was not only a sub, but he was a sub impersonating a Dom. A felony, Percy knew this for certain. Everyone knew. It was a hated crime, looked down upon by Doms and subs alike. And now he had a way to get the position he had always wanted. A position he had been owed for the longest time. He would have that position now and he would have the gleeful satisfaction of putting his biggest rival behind bars. The thought came to him that maybe he should blackmail the bitch instead. He gave the thought some time, looking at Kurt, who by now had put the scarf back in place. But when the pale, gorgeous man turned and sneered at Percy, looking down his nose at him as he always did, Percy knew what he would do.
Excusing himself on the pretense of an incoming phone call, he stepped out. He couldn't help the shrill giggle that escaped him as he dialed nine-one-one and began to speak.