A/N: Yay, Chapter Four!
I have a few weeks left of the spring semester, and I am completely swamped with work, so updates may be few and far between, but I will get them posted whenever I can. :) Thanks for sticking with me. Hope you enjoy the update!
Chapter Warning: Spanking
Kurt's second day in the Anderson household began wonderfully, waking up curled into Blaine's side. The Dom brushed a few stray hairs from his forehead, untangling their limbs before they dressed and went downstairs to enjoy a leisurely breakfast together. Blaine brought him back to their room afterward, sitting on the bed a few feet away. "Now that you've moved in, I think it's time we establish a few basic ground rules and house rules," he began, "Okay?" Kurt nodded attentively to show that he was listening. Blaine continued, his voice formal, "As you already know, you are to promptly and properly follow any command I give you. While living under this roof, this rule will extend to my father and mother as well. You are to obey them unless what they say directly conflicts with an order of my own. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir," he confirmed.
"Repeat the rule back to me," Blaine prompted, "Your own words will be sufficient."
Kurt kept it quick and simple, easily replying, "I'll obey any command you give me, and I'll obey any command your parents give me unless it goes against something you've already said."
"Good," he nodded, "You may go out in the backyard alone as long as you let me know where you're going beforehand, but you may not step one foot out the front door unless I'm there to supervise. I claimed you, and you're collared, but it's still not wise to put yourself at unnecessary risk. Repeat, please."
"With the exception of the backyard, I can't go outside unless you're there to keep me safe."
"Exactly," Blaine reached behind him into the drawer of his bedside table, "This is yours." He pulled out a cell phone and handed it to the sub. Kurt held in lightly in his hands, a bit shocked by the gift, "It's specially set up to send or receive contact to and from certain numbers only," Blaine told him, "My cell, the house phone, your father's house and cell, my parents' cells, and 911 are already programmed into the system. If you attempt to contact another number, either by calling or texting, it won't go through, and I will be alerted of the activity. It's your responsibility to keep the phone charged and turned on. If we're not together, I expect this phone to be in your possession at all times so we can contact each other if we need to."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you," Kurt pressed down the power button and watched the screen come to life. Behind a few icons, the wallpaper showed a basic stock photo of a drop of water. Blaine waited patiently until the boy looked back up before he spoke again.
"I want to make sure you understand that this is your home now," he told him, "You aren't just here to serve me and my family. I do need your loyalty and obedience, and I do want you to be dependent on me, but the last thing I want is to completely repress you or your individuality. Use good judgment to determine if you need permission for something or not. When in doubt, don't hesitate to ask, but as a general rule you are free to do what you like. If you want to watch TV, you go right ahead and watch TV. If you need to go the bathroom, by all means, do so. If you want to stay up late and read until three in the morning, you can. You have freedom here. Does that make sense?"
Kurt had trouble finding his voice. Blaine could make him do anything—be anything. If Blaine wanted him to be a human pet, he could ban him from the furniture or make him eat from a bowl on the floor. If Blaine wanted him to be a living fucktoy, he could refuse to give him clothing and keep him chained to the bed. The teen sitting across from him could mold Kurt into anyone or anything he wanted, but his desires were not so cruel or inhumane. He just wanted the sub to be himself. It was an overwhelming reminder that Blaine truly cared for him. "Kurt? Does that make sense?" he asked again.
"You're far too kind to me, Sir," the sub finally replied, voice soft. Blaine shook his head.
"I would hope any Dom would treat their sub with the same respect," he said simply, continuing on without further comment, "After my parents and I discuss some things, you'll receive a few household chores that will need to be regularly completed. I'll probably get that list to you tomorrow, in writing, just to make sure you don't forget." Kurt nodded, "And again," he stressed, "if you need or want anything, make sure you tell me. Okay, beautiful?" Blaine gave him a soft smile, slipping back into a less Dominant state, "I want you to be happy living here."
"I will," Kurt promised. Already, Blaine's provided rules allowed him to slip into a more relaxed state. The structure and simplicity of his Dom's words were comforting, and Kurt felt confident that he could obey them without much trouble.
"That's my boy. C'mere," Kurt beamed, crawling closer at the invitation and slipping into the arms that awaited him. Blaine pulled his sub close, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Kurt grabbed his phone and unlocked the screen, selecting the icon to activate the camera.
"My phone needs a new background," he said. Blaine smirked, situating Kurt on his lap so that the sub's back was flush against his chest. He slid a hand across the boy's torso and wrapped his fingers around the front of his collar. Blaine pressed his chin against the side of his face while Kurt leaned into him, lifting the phone out in front of them to snap the photo. When he brought it closer to look, Blaine snorted with laughter.
"You took a picture of the headboard," he observed in an amused voice, "Feeling kinky today, beautiful?"
Kurt blushed, giving him a playful shove, "Shut up," he giggled, "It was an accident."
Blaine held off his laughter as they posed again. This time, Kurt did a bit better at aiming, though half of Blaine's head was cut out of the frame. The Dom refrained from laughing, but he wore a cocky grin that made Kurt shoot him a glare. "Why don't you take it then?" the sub shoved it into his hands. Blaine kissed his temple lightly and tightened his grip on the leather collar as he held the phone out in front of them for the third time.
Of course, Blaine's attempt resulted in a perfect shot. Kurt studied the screen for a few moments while Blaine lazily ghosted his fingers along the back of his neck. For both being fully clothed and pictured entirely above the waist, the image was surprisingly sensual. In the photo, Kurt's eyes were trained on the tiny lens, staring out of the picture with a contended smile as he leaned back, tucked in close against Blaine's chest. Blaine had forgone looking into the camera in favor of turning his attention to the sub. His hazel eyes were glinting, focused on Kurt's face. The possessive hold on Kurt's leather collar was the perfect defining touch, and the sub felt a rush of heat roll over his skin at the small, devilish smirk pictured on Blaine's face, as if the Dom was contemplating all the things he could do the pale boy in his arms.
Without a moment of hesitation, he set the image as the new wallpaper, staring at it for a few more seconds before setting his phone down on the bed and turning around in Blaine's arms. Still settled in his lap, Kurt wrapped his legs around his Dom's waist. "I love the picture," he told him, "It's perfect."
"Mmm, you think so too?" Blaine asked seductively, dropping his head down to nudge his nose beneath Kurt's chin. The sub closed his eyes and tilted his head back to expose his neck. Blaine eagerly went to work, marking his boy's skin with sharp teeth, warm lips, and a wet tongue. Kurt moaned quietly and the Dom cupped his ass with a light pressure, letting his hips roll teasingly…
The following day, as promised, Blaine passed on a list of chores to his sub. For the time being, the boy was to help with weekly laundry, cooking, and keeping his and Blaine's room clean. Kurt had been happy to receive a specific set of duties. He hoped the responsibility would help him find his proper place in the Anderson household, and regardless, it put him at ease knowing that his Dom trusted him to do the work he was assigned.
All in all, Kurt was settling in quite well. The boy seemed content and even happy with his new home, and Blaine was overjoyed to see him getting comfortable so quickly. Immediately after receiving his list of chores, Kurt had dashed upstairs, insisting that Blaine stay out of their room for thirty minutes. Exactly half an hour later, a slightly sweaty, panting Kurt had eagerly brought him back up to the second floor and pushed open their bedroom door. The only other time Blaine had seen his room look so clean was before his family moved in, when they'd been given a tour from the real estate agent and all of the rooms had been bare and empty.
Kurt was obviously taking his role seriously, but it still surprised the Dom when he volunteered to assist his mother that same afternoon in the kitchen. They had been passing by on their way back upstairs when Kurt paused and peeked his head in. Blaine watched him curiously, walking back toward the doorway. "Mrs. Anderson?" Kurt spoke up, "Would you like some help?" He shot a glance in Blaine's direction, making sure it was okay to offer her his time.
"Kurt's a wonderful cook," the Dom added, consenting.
"If you're not busy, that would be great. Thank you, Kurt." The boy gave her a shy smile. Blaine reached out and placed a light hand on his shoulder.
"Do you need me to stay?" he asked softly, not wanting to leave if it would make him uncomfortable.
"No, I… I think I'm okay," Kurt replied.
"Then I'll be right upstairs if you need anything," he addressed them both. The Dom gave Kurt a reassuring nod and slowly turned to walk out of the kitchen. The boy watched him go, his gaze lingering on the edge of staircase for a moment before stepping fully into the room and facing Mrs. Anderson. He was admittedly a bit nervous without his Dom, but Blaine's mother had a kind face, and a calm, friendly sort of presence that even rivaled her son's seemingly constant state of assurance.
"There's a luncheon tomorrow at my husband's office. They're celebrating some great achievement, I suppose," she laughed, "Everyone's supposed to bring something, so I thought I'd bake cookies for him to take. We can make a few extra for you and Blaine, if you'd like."
"Okay... What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Are you good at measuring ingredients?" Kurt gave her a confident nod, "Great! Then you can start getting all of this in a mixing bowl," she handed him an index card with a handwritten recipe for chocolate chip cookies, "I think we'll make two batches, so I'll take care of the second."
They worked in amicable silence for a few minutes. It didn't take long for Kurt to get comfortable. Cooking and baking were both familiar territory, and he was spooning out homemade cookie dough onto the pan before Mrs. Anderson had even finished mixing hers together.
"You're a fast worker," she observed with a smile.
"I've had a lot of practice," he replied, "I've been cooking for my dad for years. It's kind of a hobby too, I guess."
They continued to make small talk, and Kurt found that he really liked Mrs. Anderson. She was charismatic and personable. She didn't hesitate to ask for his help or put his extra pair of hands to use. It was reassuring, knowing she thought he was capable. A few times, Kurt surprised himself with how openly and candidly he could respond to her questions. After putting the cookies in the oven, Mrs. Anderson moved to wash some of the dishes, handing each one to Kurt so he could dry them off.
"How are you liking Blaine?" she asked over the sound of running water from the sink, "When he and I spoke last night about what chores to assign, he seemed quite fond of you. I think he's pretty proud to be your Dom, Kurt."
The sub's heart pounded, tossing around a few frantic butterflies in his stomach. He had to bite down on his lower lip to keep his smile under control. "He's wonderful. I'll be honest—even though I knew my dad trusted your family, and I never would have admitted it, I was still a little scared of him before we met. I mean, he could have been horrible. But he's better than good, better than wonderful. I feel like I'm in the right place when I'm with him. Does that even make sense?"
"It makes perfect sense, honey," she assured him.
"I really am proud to be his," Kurt murmured, "and I'm pretty sure I'm the luckiest submissive in the world."
"You might just be," Mrs. Anderson smiled, "I'm so glad everything is working out well for you both."
"Me too." Piling the last plate on top of the small stack he'd made on the counter, Kurt lifted them into his arms and turned toward the cupboard to put them up. He made it halfway across the room before he noticed the slight tilt of the stack. Moving a bit too quickly to correct the leaning angle, the already precarious balance was lost altogether, and with a loud crash, the plates fell and shattered to the floor. Mrs. Anderson let out a shriek of surprise.
"Oh god, I'm sorry!" Kurt exclaimed, dropping to his knees, "I'm so sorry!"
"It was an accident," she replied quickly, "Don't worry about it." Kurt hardly heard a single word while his mouth spewed a constant stream of apologies. "Oh, honey, no! Don't use your hands!"
His adrenaline had spiked, rushing through his veins and locking him in tunnel vision. "Kurt, stop!" He grabbed at the tiny fragments of what used to be elegant dinnerware, oblivious to everything else but his panicked inner monologue. Now you've done it. Look at this mess! He's going to be furious with you. He probably heard the crash and is on his way down here right now. Clean it up! Kurt was so far gone, he didn't even notice the sharp stabs of pain that ordinarily would have reduced him to tears, or when rivulets of blood began to drip down his fingers and spatter across the tile floor.
"Blaine!" His mother's desperate shout cut the through sound of the music streaming through his headphones. Blaine sat up, pausing his MP3 player as he listened, hoping he'd imagined it. He heard his mother shout again and was off his bed in an instant, yanking the headphones from his ears. Rushing out of the room, he stormed down the stairs and sped through the hall as his mom called his name for a third time. The Dom burst into the kitchen, breathing heavily. His nostrils were invaded with the delicious smell of chocolate while his eyes immediately darted around the room. He found Kurt kneeling on the tile floor, his hands frantically scrabbling at what looked like the shattered remains of china plates. Blaine's heart skipped a beat when he noticed the scarlet tint of the sub's blood.
"Kurt, what are you doing? Stop!" his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Springing into action, he hurried to Kurt's side, delicate china fragments cracking under the soles of his shoes. He reached out to restrain him, grabbing his arms.
"No!" Kurt screamed. The boy jerked out of his grip, nearly knocking Blaine to the floor in the process, "I'm sorry, Sir! I'll clean it up!" The Dom stared in disbelief, dumbfounded by the display. Shaking his head and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he moved in again, this time from behind, and reached for the sub's pale wrists. Kurt was surprisingly strong, and he gave the shorter Dom a rough time as he struggled against his tight hold. "Kurt! Listen to me!" Blaine called him again, perhaps too loudly for how close he was to the boy's ear, but he was finally heard through whatever mental block had been in the way. Kurt winced at the volume and froze, remaining incredibly tense as a few terrified tremors wracked his body.
"Drop it. Now." Blaine's tone was fully commanding, leaving no room for compromise or disobedience. The boy's muscles flexed in his grip once before the tension slipped away. Realization registered slowly on Kurt's face, and his blue eyes went wide as he slumped back against the Dom's chest. As soon as the shards hit the floor, Blaine gently turned Kurt's hands over, peering across his shoulder to examine his palms as best he could. There were a few shallow lacerations, but nothing that looked incredibly serious or in need of professional medical attention.
With Kurt out of immediate danger, the Dom began to analyze the situation, trying to determine the best course of action. Blaine bit his lip, debating his options while he maintained the strong grip on Kurt's wrists. The boy had disobeyed a direct order and hurt himself as a result. He couldn't let this slide. Though caring for his sub's happiness, safety, and health were the most important priorities of this partnership, there was more to his role than just protecting and providing. At some point, it required a necessary amount of discipline. The first time would be the hardest. Blaine steeled himself and spoke again, releasing his grip, "Go wait for me in our bedroom. I'll clean this up and meet you there in a few minutes. Try not to bleed on the carpet if you can help it," he added.
There was beat of silence. "Don't you want my help, Sir?" Kurt asked in a small voice. Blaine had never heard him sound so vulnerable. It physically pained the Dom to deny him and send him away. He knew Kurt would be crushed by the dismissal of his service, but he had to be strict or else his boy would not learn. And with two injured hands, he would probably be less of a help and more of a hindrance.
"I told you to go to our bedroom," Blaine repeated sternly, "Don't make me tell you again." Kurt immediately rose to his feet and briskly exited the kitchen, his head hanging in a submissive display. When he was gone, Blaine sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his mother while he stood and took the broom she offered him. "What the hell happened?"
"We were washing dishes while the cookies baked—I didn't want to put the china through the dishwasher—and I gave him a stack to put back in the cupboard," she explained, "They were probably still a little wet, or maybe there were just too many for him to handle at once; I'm not sure. I heard the crash and turned around. He was already on the floor, trying to pick everything up. I told him that it wasn't a problem; I told him not to use his hands, but it was like he didn't hear me."
"You told him to stop?" Blaine asked for confirmation.
"Yes. He just kept saying he was sorry, and he wouldn't listen to anything I said. I thought he might really hurt himself, and that's when I called you." Blaine shook his head, sweeping up the last few pieces and tossing them in the trash. Kurt had disobeyed both of them. "He panicked, Blaine," she said simply, "He was scared of my reaction and blanked out. Everything's still new to him."
"He broke two rules that we established yesterday morning: listen to me, listen to my parents. I can't just ignore that, regardless of the circumstances."
"I understand, son," Mrs. Anderson replied softly, "I trust you to know what's best for him. Do what you need to."
Blaine nodded, grateful for his mother's belief. He was maintaining control over his emotions—he knew controlling Kurt would be impossible unless he had a grip on himself first—but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He'd never seriously punished the boy before. He didn't know how Kurt would take it. His mind flipped through a few tips he remembered reading in his RDC textbook last semester at Dalton.
- Clearly Explain the Transgression: Be sure to include the specific occurrence in detail and why you determined that occurrence as being disobedient.
- Check the sub's Understanding: Before taking any disciplinary action, make sure the sub knows what they did wrong. It may be helpful to have them repeat back to you in their own words.
- Corporal Punishment: Any physical punishment should be proportional to the sub's disobedience. Use your judgment to determine the proper amount and best form of application. Physical punishment should be used to teach a lesson, NOT as a method of torture. Excessive pain may be counterproductive to the sub's learning.
- (NOTE: submissives receiving their first corporal punishment may benefit from the option of a safeword to temporarily pause, not completely end, the action. Use caution until you've explored the sub's limits and understand their tolerance for pain.)
Kurt was waiting for him in their bedroom as instructed. Blaine had assumed the boy would have taken a seat on the edge of the bed, but—bless his soul—the sub was kneeling in the middle of the room, trying his best to maintain the standard respectful position he'd been taught. Instead of folding his hands, he'd left them laying palms up against his thighs, streaks of blood covering his pale skin. He was shaking.
"Come on," Blaine sighed from the doorway, "Let's get you fixed up in the bathroom."
He led the way and lowered the lid of the toilet, sitting Kurt down while he turned toward the cabinet near the sink and dug around for what he needed. Blaine ran a clean washcloth under the faucet and finally sank down by Kurt's side, holding out his palm. The boy obediently gave him his hand. After checking closely to make sure there weren't any shards still embedded in his skin, Blaine brought up the cloth and gently began to wipe the blood away without a word. He saw Kurt's fingers twitch a few times in discomfort, but he didn't pull away.
Thankfully, for the most part, the cuts had already stopped bleeding. By the time both of his hands were clean, the wounds looked much less disconcerting than they had a few minutes prior. Still, the Dom wasn't going to take a chance at Kurt getting any infections. Blaine gently spread a layer of antibiotic ointment over the half-formed scabs and carefully circled the boy's hands a few times with some gauze bandages from the first-aid kit. "Too tight?" he asked. Kurt flexed his fingers once and shook his head. "Good."
They made their way back to the bedroom, and Blaine pulled the door shut behind him, watching Kurt stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. His eyes were downcast, and his body was tense. He'd never been in trouble before, and he didn't know what to expect. Blaine took a quiet, deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, moving to sit at the end of the bed.
"Kurt," he called softly, "Knees." The sub approached with a few small steps and silently sank to the carpet before him, staring down at his Dom's feet. Blaine lifted his chin with a single outstretched finger and held his gaze. He saw shame and a bit of fear in the blue eyes that usually sparkled. "Do you know what you did wrong, beautiful?"
It took a moment, but Kurt replied, his voice quiet and painfully unsure, "I… I broke the china, Sir?"
Blaine sighed, his eyes falling shut as he shook his head. Kurt's posture collapsed into disarray as he shrank back, the guilt pressing down on his shoulders like a physical weight. He didn't speak. Whether he couldn't pinpoint the true mistake or was simply incapable of finding his voice again, Blaine couldn't tell. He reprieved Kurt's lack of response and continued on, "When you dropped the plates, my mom told you it wasn't a problem, but you acted like it was. She explicitly told you to stop, and you didn't listen. She had to shout for me to come downstairs." Kurt's eyes pooled with tears, and he struggled to blink them away, forcing himself to hold Blaine's gaze. "When I got to the kitchen, I had to tell you to stop several times before you finally obeyed. I had to physically restrain you before you finally listened to me. Now your hands are injured, and there's no reason why they should be. By causing your injuries, that moment of disobedience will likely affect your ability to properly serve your Dom while you heal," he paused, "The point is, Kurt, I can't have you hurting yourself because you don't follow orders. Does that make sense?"
Kurt nodded stiffly.
"It's just a few cuts on your hands this time, but what if something worse happened to you? I'm here to keep you safe, beautiful, but you need to let me," Blaine urged. The concern in his voice was clear, "I can't have you blanking out and shutting down like that. You're a very good listener when things are calm. I need you to have that same attentiveness when things aren't calm."
"Yes, Sir," Kurt whispered, not trusting his voice to be any louder, "I'm sorry."
"I know you are," Blaine assured him, "but you understand why I still need to punish you, right? I need to reinforce this lesson, and I need to discourage you from making the same mistake again."
"I understand."
"But before we go any further, we're going to establish a safeword. You know what that is?" Kurt nodded, "Let me be clear. This safeword can be used at any time from this moment forward. That means if, even ten years from now, we're trying something new sexually, and it gets to be too much, you can use your safeword, and we'll stop. It can be used during discipline as well, but it will only be a temporary pause. If you earn punishment, you will receive it, but if you need a moment of relief while it's being carried out, the safeword is there for you—Red," Blaine told him, "One syllable, easy to remember. It's like a stoplight. 'Red' is your safeword, Kurt."
"Red," he repeated.
"Good," Blaine smiled gently, "Now then, I think twelve will be enough."
"Twelve, Sir?" Kurt's head tilted to the side in confusion.
"Pull your pants down, beautiful," he instructed, "Underwear too." The sub got to his feet and carefully used his injured hands to navigate the button and zipper on his jeans, tugging them down along with his briefs, "And I need you across my lap." Blaine spread his legs and gave his thighs a quiet pat. It didn't take long for Kurt to put two and two together. He was getting a spanking.
The sub blushed, but did as he was told. Kurt gripped Blaine's shoulder for support as he lowered himself down to lay against his Dom's legs. "Scoot up a bit more." The boy shimmied forward to expose his ass, feeling his cock press against the fabric of Blaine's jeans.
"Twelve strikes. You will count each one out loud," he instructed, "If you lose count, we start over, so make sure you stay focused. Is everything clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Do you have any questions?" he asked.
"No, Sir."
"And your safeword is—?"
"Red."
"Good boy."
There was a drawn out moment of silence, and the sub hardly dared to breathe. Without warning, the first hit landed sharp and heavy across his ass. Kurt winced and didn't even try to hold back the tears any longer. It hurt. Blaine was punishing him because he'd disobeyed. He felt awful and so terribly guilty...
"I need to hear you counting," Blaine reminded curtly.
The boy responded immediately, though his voice wavered, "One, Sir."
Without preamble, Blaine's hand struck again. He wasn't holding back. Kurt squirmed on his lap and tangled his fingers in the fabric of his Dom's pants as he hissed out, "Two." Blaine continued. He always waited long enough for the worst of the immediate pain to fade before bringing his hand down again. His specific target and timing varied, ensuring that Kurt could never be fully prepared for what was coming next. By the fifth strike, the boy was shaking, but he never uttered the safeword. Blaine couldn't help but admire his sub's resilience as he let his hand speed through the air once more, colliding with Kurt's reddened skin. The smack was drowned out by a loud cry.
"S-six," Kurt muttered thickly.
"Halfway there, sweetheart," Blaine said gently, "Remember why you deserve this." Kurt nodded mutely against his Dom's calf. He had disobeyed.
Strike number seven was on his left cheek, eight on his right. The final four, each one harder than the last, landed in the same spot, right above where his ass met his thighs, the precise location his weight would rest on whenever he sat down—ensuring that the boy would feel this punishment for several days. Blaine hit hard, ignoring the quiet sobs between Kurt's pitiful attempts at counting. By the time they reached the last strike, the spoken number was more of an indistinct blubber of sound, but Blaine wasn't cruel enough to subject the boy to anymore pain because of mispronunciation.
"It's over," he told him, stroking the sub's burning skin, "We're all finished, beautiful." Kurt pulled in a shuddering breath as Blaine pulled him up and lowered him against the bed. The Dom tugged off Kurt's pants and underwear completely and dropped them to the floor before he moved back onto the mattress and brought the boy into his arms.
"You're forgiven," Blaine whispered in his ear, "It's all over, and you're forgiven." Kurt clutched at the back of Blaine's shirt and soaked his shoulder with salty tears. Every now and then, another sob would rattle from his lungs, "Shh," the Dom soothed, "It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you."
Kurt let Blaine rock him back and forth like a child. His rear stung like crazy, but the sub realized with a jolt that his guilt was all but gone. Somehow, the punishment had worked the emotion out of his system. The sharp hit of Blaine's hand had been cathartic, freeing him from the crushing weight of his disobedience. The realization made the pain easier to handle, and his sobs grew quiet, though a few wet hiccups escaped his lips, making Blaine's body vibrate with silent laughter.
"Thank you, Sir," Kurt whispered against his neck.
"Of course, beautiful." Blaine kissed his sub's cheek.
He would always give Kurt what he needed.
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