"Salut, mon petit."
Kurt's French crash course had surprisingly not included pick up lines, but Blaine understood - or thought he did - that he was being addressed as "little one". He put up with a lot of teasing from his friends and had long since made his peace with his height or lack thereof, but that didn't mean that any stranger had the right to call him that. Or touch him, for that matter.
The man grinned down on him again. Wasn't that guy able to smile without leering? It made him look a weird mix of creepy and ridiculous, and Blaine didn't quite know whether to laugh or run away. Except...Kurt would completely flip if he saw this, a "red" sub being touched, being groped, against his will. That sub being Blaine would only be the icing on the cake, although that icing could make the difference between a sharp warning and a report and a tongue-slashing so bad the poor man would be whimpering in a corner somewhere, self-esteem destroyed forever.
He took a step back, Kurt's rule about not to talk to people without him there clear in his mind. He just wanted to go away, go back to Kurt, but the man's hand closed around his wrist. He turned, trying to determine how much trouble he was in. Surely someone would be stepping in if the supposedly most important rule was broken? But no one did, the bartender occupied with mixing drinks, the other patrons busy with whatever they were doing.
"Rouge," he said, glad he remembered. Surely the man would respect a safeword? He did, indeed, let go of his wrist - but, Blaine realized, he had been mistaken before. Then he had not been groped; now he was.
He pushed the man's hand away.
"Ne me touchez pas," he said, hoping that it meant, "Don't touch me."
The man grinned and shifted slightly so that he wasn't touching Blaine, but blocking his way, crowding him against the bar. Then he said something in French that Blaine didn't understand.
"Je ne parle pas Français," Blaine said, desperately hoping the guy would finally be discouraged. But, no. He just grinned wider, showing artificially white teeth.
"That's a relieve, babe. My French isn't that good, either."
He was clearly American, and if anything, that shared origin made him bolder. His hand landed on Blaine's ass, squeezing.
"I told you not to touch me!" Blaine said, now slightly panicked, and louder, hoping to finally attract someone's attention. He had forgotten the French words for "Help me", or he would have directly asked someone. "I said my safeword. I'm marked red, for heaven's sake. I'm here with my master. What more do you need to back off?"
He pushed the man's hand away again and looked around. Kurt would never be able to see him from where he was seated, but maybe he would wonder why he took so long and come looking for him? He had no pity anymore; this guy deserved everything that was coming for him.
"You shouldn't be so uptight, babe," the man said patronizingly, as if he were explaining an important lesson. "Nobody cares about the rules anymore. If you would just relax, you and I could have a lot of fun."
"Leave me alone. I told you I'm here with someone. He's a hundred times the Dom you are; you're just a pathetic excuse for one."
Usually, Blaine avoided conflict; most of the time, he got further by being polite, and he saw no sense in making people's lives unnecessarily harder. But his polite attempts to get the man to back off had been ignored, and now he was really angry.
"This is not fairytale country. A wolf in a nightcap doesn't make a grandma, and a fucker in leather pants doesn't make a Dom."
The man narrowed his eyes. He was angry. Good; if he tried to punch him, he would see that Blaine knew how to defend himself. Besides, maybe then somebody would finally see what was going on here.
"You don't think I'm Dom enough for you, is that so? Well, then I know someone who definitely is. We could share you, that would be fun."
He took a step backwards and looked around; then he called,
"Hey, Al, I've got someone here for you to break in!"
Blaine looked in the direction the man had called. A man turned, facing them. Blaine grew pale. It couldn't be. He pushed the man away and ran.
…...
Kurt had finished putting his boots back on and was now watching the people dancing. He had changed his mind; even if there was a slow song, they wouldn't dance. There was no way he was taking his shoes off again, unless maybe it was for something a little more...gratifying than dancing.
They could have a drink, watch a bit, and then maybe go downstairs again, maybe have a go at that St. Andrews cross. He didn't have one at home, as it was bulky and could hardly be taken for something other than it actually was. He really wanted to tie Blaine to it and see him straining against the bonds as he took his pleasure with him.
If he ever came back. But the club was crowded, there was probably a line. He'd go looking for him now and help with the drinks, but their table would probably be gone when they came back. Well, if Blaine wasn't back in a few minutes, he'd go all the same.
But then Blaine ran to his side, fell to his knees, without drinks and white as a sheet.
"Red, Sir," he panted. "Red."
Fighting down the uprising panic, Kurt stood up, pulled Blaine to his feet and led him in the direction of the locker room, where they would be able to talk without yelling. Besides, he figured, if something had happened that was bad enough to prompt Blaine to look like this and actually safeword, it must be something that was bad enough for them to leave.
"What happened?" he asked once they were there, pulling Blaine down to sit on a bench.
"Alex White is here," Blaine said, voice strained but surprisingly calm.
"Shit," Kurt said. How could this happen? "Are you alright?"
Blaine nodded. "I just...I really don't want to be here anymore."
"Of course." Kurt opened their locker and handed Blaine his clothes, then took care of the accessories Blaine took off. When Blaine was dressed, he took him into his arms.
"Reception is calling us a cab. We can wait outside."
Kurt was livid. He knew that Elliot had sent Alex White's photo and description to Etienne, together with the request to deny him entry into the club. Etienne used to care very much for the safety of everyone visiting his club, but particularly for that of the subs. Had that changed so much? Or was it all due to the fact that the actual managing of the club was now in the hands of someone else?
"Sir?" Blaine asked in the cab, taking his hand which Kurt only now noticed was shaking. "I'm alright, really. Nobody hurt me. I was just shocked."
"I don't know what I'd do if he had hurt you again. I'm just...I don't understand how something like that could happen." Then he had an idea. "Would you be okay with visiting Etienne tomorrow? I'd really like to see him again, and I want to talk about this. After that, we can put all of this behind us and just go sightseeing and eat expensive food."
…...
Blaine was a little nervous. Just a little, though; Kurt had taken care to reassure him that visiting Etienne was nothing he needed to be nervous about.
"You call him Monsieur Etienne," he had said. "Otherwise, he's not much about protocol at home. He always said he had enough of that at the club."
Still, Blaine had somehow imagined a formidable old Dom who wore leather pants all the time and probably lived in some kind of dungeon, followed everywhere by a bunch of adoring subs who anticipated his every wish. But the man who opened the door for them was nothing like that. He was in his mid-forties and wearing jeans and a knit sweater with a stain on the shoulder that originated, Blaine guessed, from the drooling baby he held in one arm.
"Entrez," he said with a bright smile, kissing first Kurt and then Blaine on both cheeks, maneuvering a little awkwardly around the baby. "Come in, come in!"
They were led to a bright, friendly living room that was clean but cluttered and showed that this was a house where children lived. Etienne got them something to drink, and Blaine sat a little awkwardly on his chair, clutching his glass. On the whole, though, he was content to listen to Kurt and Etienne catch up, and smiled as Etienne showed them the photos of his family that adorned the wall.
"You missed Suzanne, my wife," he said, "She's visiting a friend, and she has taken Yves, our eldest, with her. She's left me with little Marie for the whole weekend, but we're getting by, aren't we?" He bounced the little girl on his lap until she laughed.
"I'm curious," Kurt said, "Is Suzanne a sub, or have you left the scene entirely?"
Etienne chuckled. "Oh, technically, she's a sub. It's how we met. But with the kids...she certainly won't call me an honorific in front of them, and scenes are difficult when this one wakes every two hours."
They talked for a bit, Etienne taking care to draw Blaine into the conversation as well. He was pretty much at ease until, finally, Kurt started to talk about what had happened at Le Feu and Blaine's story with Alex White. Then he felt himself blush and started fussing with his glass again, until Kurt took his hand and squeezed it. Etienne listened, growing more and more serious until finally his demeanor was such that Blaine could easily see him as a Dom and was glad he hadn't been the one to cross him.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Etienne said. "I'm even more sorry that you had to see him again in my club, where you were supposed to feel safe. I remember Elliot's email, and I forwarded it to my nephew with instructions to exclude the man should he ever attempt to gain entry to the club. But I guess he didn't care enough." He shook his head. "I should have known Jean-Baptiste wouldn't be a good manager when he suggested re-naming the club into, what was it, L'explosion de la gorge. Um, Throat Explosion. I mean, what kind of name is that supposed to be? It sounds like a blowjob gone horribly wrong!"
"Um, there was...another man," Blaine said hesitantly. Yesterday night in their hotel he had told Kurt about the man who had groped him and refused to let him leave, and he had just about managed to keep Kurt from going back and giving the guy a piece of his mind. "He harassed me and ignored my safeword."
Etienne showed them photos of visitors of the club until Blaine recognized the guy, and then said,
"I'll send his picture and that of Alex White to security with instructions not to let them in again. And if you two should want to go back, you can do so without an entry fee, and all your drinks are on the house." He sighed. "I'll have to find somebody to replace Jean-Baptiste."
They stayed for a bit afterwards, but Etienne seemed distracted, probably thinking about other family members, acquaintances and employees he could ask to manage the club. He repeated his offer of free entry and drinks at the club when they left, but Kurt and Blaine agreed that they didn't want to go back.
The rest of their vacation passed peacefully. Blaine did indeed manage to persuade Kurt to take a carousel ride with him and then nearly fell off his horse laughing as he watched Kurt sitting on his, back straight and regally waving at their non-existent audience.
They took a spa day and ate a lot of delicious French food and had a lot of great sex in their hotel room. After walking in on them twice, their chamber maid started to blush every time she saw them, so Blaine started to blush every time he saw her. Kurt just shook his head and tipped her extra well when it was finally time to go back home.