Hey guys!
I know, I know, I haven't been around much. Due to finals, sadly. I'm going to keep uploading drabbles once or twice a week until school goes out, on June 23rd, which is when I'll start posting daily again, for the entire summer until September 1st.
Also, I do have some special plans for the summer (and this dreadfully long hiatus), so stay tuned! :)
This drabble contains Dom!Kurt and sub!Blaine, but there's no scene or anything actually smutty, just a bit of subspace, Blaine wearing cuffs, and fluffy angst. Hope you enjoy, lovelies!
Don't Feel Like Myself Anymore
He jerks the door open, and the first thing he sees is Blaine's bright smile. It's not what he needs to see.
"Get in," he says, voice low.
Blaine's smile vanishes, turns into a familiar slack expression of submission. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the ground as he walks in and turns to face his sir.
"Knees."
Blaine doesn't hesitate for longer than a second before dropping to his knees, making a satisfying thump when hitting the hard floor.
He takes a deep breath, tightening his jaw. "Wait here."
Blaine stays.
He goes to turn off his phone, ignoring the unread messages. Then, he picks up Blaine's cuffs from his bedside drawer and comes back to Blaine. Perfect, beautiful Blaine who's still kneeling for him, eyes down, never questioning his authority.
"Good boy," he whispers; strokes Blaine's hair. He's glad he remembered to ask Blaine not to wear gel when he came over. Blaine shudders under his touch, then stiffens. "Are you okay, baby?"
"Are-are we alone?" Blaine asks carefully.
"Yes, of course. I would never make you kneel otherwise," he says, crouching next to Blaine who breathes out, thankful. "I'm going to put on your cuffs, but they don't have to be linked together for now."
Blaine nods. He does a quick job of securing the cuffs, and then grabs Blaine's chin with his right hand, holding both of Blaine's cuffed wrists in his left.
"Tell me, boy, what do those cuffs mean?"
"That I'm yours, sir. I am your sub, sir."
He nods at Blaine, moving his hand from Blaine's chin to his throat, his thumb pressing over his Adam's apple lightly. "We won't be doing a scene that involves sex today. Is that okay with you? I know you've expected that when you came over. Answer honestly."
"Whatever you decide, sir," Blaine says, looking into his eyes so he knows it's sincere. His Adam's apple bobs under his sir's touch.
"Alright. Then I want us to go to bed and watch a movie. Follow me."
He lets Blaine decide how to follow him, and when Blaine doesn't rise back to his feet, he's satisfied.
The lights in the bedroom are still dim from his earlier headache- better now with his sub behind him on his hands and knees- and before he sits on the bed, he drops one of the good pillows on the floor, close to the head of the bed. Blaine kneels on top of it without having to be asked.
"Good boy," he says again. He's blessed to have such a fantastic sub, truly. He leans back against the headboard and guides Blaine's head to rest of his leg, leaving his hand on Blaine's neck, squeezing rhythmically.
The room smells like rain, and he closes his eyes for a moment before picking up the remote control and turning on the TV, turning down the volume and going back to the movie he'd started earlier; it's the quietest thing he's found to watch, and with the volume so low it's barely a whisper in the background, quiet enough that he can hear Blaine's breaths.
He's not really watching the movie, but it's nice to have something to let his eyes focus on and some soft noise to keep his mind off his worries.
A gush of wind slides through the open window, creeping in like a burglar and raising goosebumps on Blaine's neck.
"Are you cold, boy?"
Blaine shakes his head drowsily; slipping into subspace already? He rubs his thumb on Blaine's warm skin.
"Get to your happy place. I'll take care of you."
Blaine nods slowly, body going limp against the side of the bed and his head rolling forward on his sir's thigh until his lips meet fabric.
"Such a good boy."
It feels like he can start being himself again, in here, nothing to bother him or disturb his peacefulness, Blaine next to him, going under softly like a quiet wave reaching the shore, and he closes his eyes.
It smells like rain. It's not cold, but chilly enough to make him feel alive. Blaine's head is warm against his leg, the heat seeping through his jeans. He can still taste the rubber-like flavor the gum he had before Blaine came over has left in his mouth. He breathes, opens his eyes, and sits up.
He doesn't inform Blaine he'll be moving , just maneuvers his body until he manages to get him onto the bed with him, head on his chest and arms behind his neck as he lays down.
The weight of him is what flips the switch, makes him Kurt again, not just Student or Employee or Son or Friend or Sir. It's soothing, comforting and all Kurt can smell is Blaine, his shampoo and his aftershave and his skin.
"Blaine," Kurt whispers. "Blaine."
Blaine nuzzles his chest. "Kurt," he says, slow, enticing, and it's better than I love you or I'm yours or you're mine, it means everything at once, all the raw emotion, love, happiness, peacefulness, devotion.
"Thank you," Kurt says, and he can finally feel like himself.