A/N: After this, there is one more chapter to this particular story arc (Sebastian's first weekend at Kurt's house). Thank you for bearing with the time jumps. I appreciate it very much. So, in this chapter is our first glimpse of actual Blaine wank. To that end, and because I have readers who are sensitive to Blaine wank, I am going to indicate that portion of the chapter with bolded words. Stop reading when you hit the first bolded words ("The dreaded ex"), scan down and continue on when you read the next bolded words ("Are you alright, Master?"). There is also a passage at the end that I'm sure someone is going to give me grief about, so please remember to read my end notes. Also, warning for the fact that Kurt doesn't really dig on the whole Caregiver/little dynamic, and he and Sebastian privately laugh over it, but then Kurt tells Sebastian that he is not to disrespect anyone in his club over what they like. Seem ridiculous that I have to write notes as in depth as this? Well, welcome to my life.

"What do you think, preppy?" Kurt asks, slipping his hands around Sebastian's chest. He starts massaging Sebastian's muscles through the tight shirt, splaying his hand over Sebastian's flat stomach, then feeling his way down to his sub's crotch, making him hard with a few strokes.

Sebastian looks at his reflection in the mirror…and feels stupid. The shirt's a little too tight, the shorts a little too short, and that sash – Kurt said the uniform didn't belong to him, but whoever did own it was Captain Overachiever. Every spot on the olive green strip of fabric is completely filled with round patches. Sebastian has never been a scout either, so he doesn't know what any of them are for sure, but one looks like reading, woodworking, fishing…is that…beekeeping?

"So what do I call you tonight?" Sebastian asks, sidestepping his Dom's original question, though it probably wouldn't matter to Kurt too much if Sebastian said that he hated it, or that he felt like a phenomenal doofus in this getup. The way Kurt is manhandling him, his hands sneaking behind to cup his ass, licking his lips like he's visualizing how he's going to tear that uniform off Sebastian's body with his teeth, Sebastian doesn't think Kurt would be too insulted. "Master…or Daddy?"

Kurt raises a brow at Sebastian through the mirror. "You know, I've never been in to all that Daddy and little shit, but coming from your smart mouth…" Kurt breathes in through his teeth, then wolf-whistles low. "I think I feel a change of heart comin'." Kurt's hands drift back to Sebastian's crotch to check on the status of his erection. Trapped inside the snug confines of the shorts, Sebastian's cock strains against the fly, giving a reflexive bob underneath Kurt's hand. Kurt tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. "You know, if you don't learn to control this…" he says, grabbing Sebastian's crotch, "I'm going to need to get your guy a cage." Kurt growls when he says cage, that his expression growing hungry with the thought of it.

Thoughts that Sebastian can't imagine because he has no clue what a cock cage even looks like, and the pictures he comes up with in his head are ridiculous. He thinks Kurt means a chastity device. That was one of Sebastian's maybe items. Kurt starts rutting lightly against Sebastian's hip, which makes Sebastian think that cock cages are something that really turns Kurt on. Sebastian had better do some Googling the next time he gets a chance.

He may have screwed himself over royally.

"I don't think I'm a fast enough learner, Master," Sebastian says in a stiff voice when he feels the head of his cock wedge against his waistband.

"Well, I'll let it slide for now." Kurt gives Sebastian's erection a condescending pat, the way he might an adorable puppy who's accidentally made a mess on the rug. "We'll let your little guy get hard. But you cum, and I'm locking you up."

"Little, Master?" Sebastian pouts. "Ouch."

"It's more of a nickname than an adjective, preppy," Kurt says, going back to gratuitously groping his sub. "You're hung and you know it. Otherwise, I might not enjoy you as much."

Sebastian isn't digging the whole Boy Scout vibe, but Kurt seems to get off on it. He can't stop touching, can't stop running his hands over the shirt to feel Sebastian's muscles underneath, or fondling the bulge in Sebastian's tighter than necessary shorts. His favorite past time by far is squeezing a hand up the leg of Sebastian's shorts while he drives to test the limits of Sebastian's restraint.

He hasn't gone off the road yet, but they've been going 103 miles per hour since they got on the highway.

The harder Sebastian gets in those shorts, and he didn't think he could get harder than he was, the more the canvas fabric feels like it's shrinking.

Kurt told Sebastian that wearing the Boy Scout uniform didn't make him a little. He's basically only wearing it in solidarity of the theme. Identifying as a little is a distinct mindset all of its own among submissives, with its own rituals, scenes, props, and little space. And just like littles, being a Daddy/Mommy/Caregiver Dominant has its own mindset. The Daddy/Mommy/Caregiver/little dynamic, Kurt explained (though not in too much depth as he was occupied feeling up his submissive), in some cases, focuses more on the care aspect of being a Dominant, the nurture. Kurt made it a point to emphasize several times that he is no Caregiver. He doesn't have the temperament nor the patience.

It can also be a fetish, Kurt mentioned, and there's parts of that that bother him, he couldn't lie. But he's also a businessman. His club wouldn't be as popular as it was if he started judging people on their fetishes. As long as the participants are legal age consenting adults aware of the things they're doing and the risks involved, he doesn't feel a need to police his customers. That doesn't mean he's not a safety hound. He has bouncers and monitoring systems, he has Dominants the he trusts who act as "big brother" when he's not around, and he personally checks in on the back rooms from time to time to make sure that everyone is "playing safe", but aside from that, he gives everyone their own freedom to explore.

Like tonight, for example, he warned Sebastian he would see oversized cribs, specially made playpens, and other nursery inspired paraphernalia set up for people to use as part of their scenes. Kurt and Elliott don't normally keep those items out he said. They're dug out for nights like tonight, and on Halloween, when Kurt and Elliott throw their annual Freaky-Deaky Free-for-All Ball.

Sebastian has to be impressed. It seems like Kurt…and Elliott (he admits spitefully)…put a lot of thought into what goes on down at Pavarotti's Prison. And to think, Sebastian originally thought it would be all spanking and fucking.

"It sounds like you go all out for something that's not your thing, Master," Sebastian remarks as he pulls off the highway.

"Well, believe it or not, there aren't many places in Ohio that accommodate our unique lifestyle," Kurt says with mock sarcasm, "which is why mine is so popular. But even before Elliott and I opened the doors, we'd made the decision that we wanted our club to be a safe space for everyone. A mecca for self-expression. I mean, I know that we cater to very specific tastes, but everyone's welcome whether they're part of the BDSM community or not, as long as they respect other people's space and their boundaries." Kurt breathes in deep, the fingers fiddling with the teeth on Sebastian's fly moving away to rest on his knee. "I want the people who come to my spot to know that…they're not alone." Kurt sits back in his seat. He rolls his head on the headrest and looks out the window. They're only minutes away from Kurt's club, but they drive those remaining minutes in silence, with Kurt's hand on Sebastian's knee, and that last sentence left lingering.

They arrive at Pavarotti's Prison a little after ten and see a line around the block that has both Kurt and Sebastian snickering. Kurt feels awful about laughing. He honestly does. He knows most of his loyal customers by name, and many of them are in that line. Everyone gets to have their own individual kinks, and as long as they're not hurting anyone (without permission), they shouldn't be shamed for them. But seeing grown men in humongous onesies and diapers, sucking on pacifiers like they're cigars – Kurt will never understand the appeal. He panders to it because he'd gotten a ton of requests, but he usually avoids it like the plague.

Kurt knows that he can tame his giggles when he needs to and put on a straight face, but when he sees Sebastian biting his lip, eyes glued to the steering wheel to avoid losing his shit, Kurt knows he has to take a few precautions to avoid a scene.

"Park it down the block, preppy," Kurt commands.

Sebastian puts his idling car into gear and drives down to the end of the block, out of the view of the crowd gathered outside. He stops at the corner and puts the car into park, but he doesn't shut off the engine.

"Okay" - Kurt turns in his seat to face his sub - "now, get it out."

Sebastian chuckles once, but when he sees Kurt's raised eyebrow and unamused expression, he's not sure that he isn't walking into a trap. "Really, Master?"

"Really," Kurt says, making a hurry up motion with his hands. "Out with it."

"I…" Sebastian turns his head to look over his shoulder at the crowd and he can't keep it in any longer. He giggles in such a high-pitched, unmanly fashion that Kurt, trying to act as stern as he can, can't help himself. The two of them double over in their seats so as not to be seen by anyone passing by. It seems like it'll be a relatively short laughing fit until Kurt lets out a snort that has Sebastian in tears.

"Oh my God!" Sebastian squeals, hyperventilating. Sebastian pictures his car shaking from outside, and the looks they must be getting, and it becomes hard for him to speak. "You…you snorted! I can't…believe…you snorted!"

"That's…that's…you snorted…Master…to you, preppy!" Kurt chokes, and he snorts again. "Besides…you should talk. You squealed like a pig!"

Sebastian howls. He sucks a breath in, starving for air, his stomach straining against the waistband of his shorts, but the sound of a seam ripping makes both men pause. Sebastian's face pops up. He sees Kurt staring directly at him, jaw dropped literally to his knees.

And then they both laugh louder.

As soon as Kurt can catch his breath, he hurries to calm down, but he has to admit, it feels good to laugh like that. He can't remember the last time he did. He swears he has, but nothing jumps to mind, and that in itself is sad. He remembers a time when he used to laugh like that daily – bent at the waist, squinty eyed, coughing out air until he couldn't breathe. What happened to his life that he doesn't laugh like that anymore?

It's too complicated a question to ponder at the moment, so he decides it's time to get this show on the road.

"Okay, okay," Kurt says. "Are you done?"

"I…I think so, Master." Sebastian peeks over his car seat and back at the line. It still strikes him as hilarious, but he feels confident that he's numb to the impulse to laugh. "Yeah" – Sebastian dries beneath his eyes with his index finger – "I'm…I'm good, Master."

"Alright. Now, go back and park it."

Sebastian backs his car up to its previous spot closer to the club. He puts the car in park, and kills the engine. But before he can reach across Kurt's body to open his door, Kurt puts a hand flat to his chest and stops him.

"Okay, preppy," he says, his voice oddly serious considering the moment of levity they were just sharing, "one more important thing."

"Yes, Master?" Sebastian tries to strike a tone that reflects Kurt's change in mood. Silently, he's proud. He thinks he might be getting a hang of this – this interaction with Kurt, at least. He credits the performer in him, but this is still a level of respect he shows to almost no one.

The fact that he wants to give Kurt this much respect is what makes the difference.

"I know we had our chuckles about you in this uniform," Kurt starts, looking into Sebastian's eyes and pointing at his chest, "and I know we sat here and had a good long laugh, but so you know, what people do in my club is for them. It's not a joke, and it's not for your amusement. Now I know being a baby or a little isn't your scene. It's not mine either. But you will not disrespect a single person in my club by giggling or laughing, do you understand?"

Sebastian swallows. After everything that Kurt had said, he didn't realize he felt so strongly about this. But then, it's not about this; it's about his customers. A safe place. A place where they can be who they are without fear of judgement.

A place that, maybe, Kurt tried to find for himself, and when he couldn't, he made one.

"Yes, Master," Sebastian says, nodding solemnly.

"I mean it, preppy" - Kurt moves his finger to the hollow of Sebastian's throat and presses hard - "This is important to my customers. One snicker and you're out. You read me?"

"Loud and clear, Master," Sebastian agrees. He clears his mind, thinking the most somber thoughts he can conjure to banish any laughter in his system – even his nervous laughter – completely away.

Margaret Thatcher.

Econ class.

MRSA.

Dead kittens.

Kurt looks into Sebastian's eyes a hair longer before the grim line of his mouth softens. He moves in on his sub, leaning over to brush their lips together gently.

"That's my boy," Kurt whispers, and kisses him harder.

Kurt grins proudly at his sub as they blow by the line and into his club without an inch of humor on Sebastian's face. Kurt wasn't entirely sure that Sebastian could do it. He had prepared for the possibility that his little boy would be licking the pavement for the next hour as punishment for breaking the rules, but no. Sebastian rose to the challenge - eyes down, head bowed, the expression on his face so severe that it borders on intimidating. It seemed that since Sebastian couldn't simply stop the laughter altogether, afraid that he would crack a smile he went 180 degrees in the opposite direction and ended up with full-on scorn face. He looks more like Kurt's sulking bodyguard than his submissive, but it would do. Kurt has to give him credit for trying.

They make their way to a table that Sebastian is beginning to believe is Kurt's usual table when he comes to his club. Many of the same faces are gathered there that were there the first night Sebastian came, along with that one disapproving submissive, sitting at his Master's feet. He raises an eyebrow when he sees Sebastian approach, shakes his head, and then rests his chin on his hands, making the decision early on that whatever Sebastian plans on doing, he's not going to get involved.

Sebastian scowls inconspicuously at the man wearing only a Power Rangers t-shirt and a Pull-Up with The Avengers printed on it. He prepares to take a spot beside him when Kurt stops him with a firm hand gripping his bicep.

"Nu-uh, preppy," Kurt says, sitting in a chair and pulling Sebastian on to his leg. "You're with me this time." Kurt spends a moment rearranging his submissive, sliding Sebastian's ass a bit down his leg and leaning him back against his chest. It's not the most comfortable position that Sebastian has ever been in, but it sure as hell beats sitting on the floor. "Now put your head back on my shoulder and relax." Kurt creeps his hand up Sebastian's thigh to rest on his crotch – on his flaccid cock, which lost interest at the first peek of a grown man having his diaper changed. "Don't move, don't clench, don't make a sound, just…focus on keeping your body still and your mind clear. Breathe deep, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Concentrate on that, and be at peace. Do you understand? Respond if you do."

"Yes, Master." Sebastian tries to relax when Kurt starts to stroke hard, his erection springing enthusiastically back to life. He can't control that, but like Kurt said, he's fine with it as long as Sebastian doesn't cum. Sebastian's not sure he'll have a choice if Kurt keeps doing what he's doing. Sebastian tries to let go, to tap in to that part of his brain Kurt mentioned, but Sebastian has never been in a meditative state. He's not sure he'll be able to find it before he unintentionally breaks Kurt's command. Kurt continues to stroke, fast and slow, hard and light, liking both Sebastian's body's reaction and his non-reaction - his forced control. The other Dominants around them ooh and aah as they watch, apparently amazed by Sebastian's "progress".

"Look at that!"

"Oh my goodness, Kurt. You are a miracle worker!"

"Is that your same pet from last time?"

"How did you train him up so quickly?"

"It wasn't that difficult," Kurt replies, giving Sebastian's shoulder a kiss. "I think this one actually likes me."

"I think they all like you, darling."

"Yeah," Kurt says, "but this one's different. He's special."

And from inside Sebastian's chest, inside his body where he's trying to be oh so obedient, his heart begins to swell.

"It looks like you kind of like him, too," the Dom with the accent from last time, who Sebastian believes is named Adam, says. "I haven't seen you like this in a while. Unless you're going soft on us."

"Yeah, well, fuck you," Kurt snaps, but with a laugh. "And you are all invited to shut the fuck up now."

Sebastian's cock throbs, balls pulling up and aching, but at some point, his mind begins to slip away. Everything else doesn't seem to matter, isn't as urgent as it was when this started. Even the sounds of the club become muted, the music pumping loud but at a distance away from where he sits, with Kurt's hands touching him, teasing him, weaving in and out of his clothes, feeling like they're threading in and out of his skin. Sebastian feels so relaxed, he could fall asleep this way, hard, denied, but entirely in Kurt's care.

"God," one of the Dommes sitting at the table with them moans, "you're so lucky, Kurt."

"Are you kidding me," Adam says. "I think it's his sub that's lucky. Jesus Christ."

Kurt starts ignoring the comments and the conversation that resumes, and turns to Sebastian. His eyes are shut, his head resting back with his neck bent, just begging to be bitten.

If there's one thing that Kurt loves it's neck kisses – getting them and giving them.

He starts with a lick – small circles around a single freckle marking a patch of smooth skin. Sebastian's body tenses, but he tries to relax at the same time. He breathes in through his nose, the way Kurt told him, then blows out a breath through his lips that practically depletes him entirely.

"Good boy," Kurt murmurs, moving down an inch, blowing a soft stream of air over the abandoned wet spot before he starts in on the new one. When his lips connect and he sucks lightly, Sebastian swallows a moan, but he doesn't shift, he doesn't move. "Very good," Kurt praises, this time moving his attention to the sensitive skin at the juncture above Sebastian's shoulder. "Stay just like that, preppy, and relax." Kiss. "Stay relaxed." Suck. "Don't move a muscle." Bite.

Kurt opens his mouth wider and bites down. Sebastian stops breathing, and slowly, Kurt bites harder.

Sebastian hears only the foggy, distant sounds of cooing and cheering as his mind finds a peaceful corner to float in. He doesn't think this is what Kurt meant though. He's not entirely sure he's not just so relaxed that he's falling asleep.

But whatever it is, it's nice.

Really…really nice.

"Kurt?"

Sebastian hears Kurt groan, and he wants to do the same. Sebastian has been doing a stellar job of blocking out the sounds around him. But this voice, this one voice, penetrates the fog and rings around his skull. It makes him want to scream, "Why!? Why, why, why, why, why!?"

"Go…away," Kurt says.

"Kurt, I need to tell you…"

"I said, go away, Ells," Kurt says, burying his face in Sebastian's collar so deep that Sebastian thinks he might succeed in climbing inside his shirt.

"He's here," Elliott says.

Kurt growls mid-suck, "Don't play the pronoun game with me, Elliott. Who's here?" He nibbles on Sebastian's earlobe, scratching a hand down the front of his shirt, easing buttons open along the way.

Elliott sighs. It's not a frustrated sigh. It's not an annoyed sigh. It's an "I really don't want to be the one to have to tell you this" sigh.

"You know who he is, Kurt. Don't make me have to say his name."

That answer means nothing to Sebastian, who doesn't understand why Elliott doesn't just say his name, but it seems to mean something to Kurt. His lips stop where they're sucking on Sebastian's neck, but his fingers start curling into Sebastian's skin.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he grumbles. "Up, preppy." He smacks Sebastian sharply on the thigh, bringing him plummeting back from that fuzzy warm place he'd been floating ever since Kurt's lips grazed his neck. "I've got to go take care of some business."

"Yes, Master." Sebastian prepares to kneel, but Kurt yanks him by the arm and drops him in his chair.

"Elliott, watch him. And while I'm gone, preppy, you'll refer to him as Sir. Show him respect."

That command blisters inside Sebastian's brain, but he doesn't let it show. "Yes, Master."

Sebastian and Elliott watch Kurt head towards the door, but doesn't leave. He stops inside the club, talking to a man who hasn't gone past the entryway. Sebastian can't see or hear the man Kurt is talking to; he's not sure about Elliott. But in front of Sebastian's eyes, Kurt changes. He hunches, like he's folding inside himself, looking for his own place of safety because, right now, his club isn't it. A hand reaches out to touch him, but Kurt snatches his arm away. The hand tries again, almost locking on his elbow.

"I said fuck off, motherfucker!"

Elliott fidgets when Kurt curses, hands curled into fists and legs bouncing restlessly, like he's gearing up for a fight. "Come on, Kurt," he mutters. "Stop the foreplay. Just tell him to leave."

Sebastian looks from Kurt to Elliott's stressed face. "Who is that?"

Elliott's eyes lock in on Sebastian, burning hot. "Do you wanna try that again, prep school? I know Kurt has a permanent hard-on for you, but I bend the rules for no one."

"I apologize, Sir," Sebastian says, not enjoying the taste of that word on his tongue with regard to Elliott. "Who is that, Sir?"

Sebastian may have added the title, but his tone is far from what one would call respectful. Elliott looks like he's not going to answer, but there's another muffled argument from the doorway, and Elliott flinches in anger.

"The dreaded ex," Elliott replies. "Blaine douchebag Anderson. Thinks he's a Dom. God's gift. Everybody in here pretty much despises him, but he hasn't gotten the memo. But I'm sure you two would get along famously. He's one of your kind." Elliott turns a vicious glare Sebastian's way, but then folds his hands and plasters on an overly-bright smile. "Hey, you know what would be fantastic? If maybe you two drive off into the sunset so we can all get back on with our lives."

Sebastian has a comeback for that, whether he's supposed to respect Elliott or not, but he's stuck on the man's description of his kind.

"What do you mean - one of my kind, Sir?"

"Oh, you know" - Elliott grimaces - "prep school trust fund trash."

Sebastian scoffs. "Thank you, Sir."

"You're more than welcome," Elliott returns, but he's not looking at Sebastian. He has his lethal gaze glued to Kurt and the other man at the door. When the man tries to take Kurt's arm, both Elliott and Sebastian sit bolt upright in their seats. Elliott starts to stand, but then sits back down. His ice blue eyes shift back and forth, trying to come up with a plan of action. Suddenly, he aims his hate-filled gaze Sebastian's way.

"Hey, prep school? Do you want the opportunity to make me hate you a little bit less?"

"Not partic-"

"Go get him," Elliott cuts him off, nudging Sebastian's arm hard. "Kurt doesn't listen to me when this prick's around. Maybe he'll listen to you."

Sebastian stares at Elliott, and Elliott glares, but then a glance past Sebastian's shoulder makes Elliott's glare switch to a concern that shaves the edge off his anger.

"Go," he says anxiously, half on, half off his chair, as if he's ready to bolt. "He needs you. Go, go, go."

Sebastian gets up from his seat. He turns slowly and walks towards the door. As a sub, he should walk with his eyes down, or crawl on his hands and knees, but he doesn't, gaze locked on the men at the door. He hears Dominants jeer at him for it, submissives ooo like they know Sebastian is asking for trouble, and from Kurt? "That takes balls," someone whispers. But Sebastian doesn't care. He'll accept punishment if Kurt feels he deserves it.

If this guy bugs Elliott the way he seems to, Sebastian needs to get his Dom away from him…and now.

When Sebastian reaches the doorway, the man has his hand wrapped around Kurt's wrist, pulling him in as if he intends to kiss him – or force a kiss from him. Sebastian steps up to them, the surprise of his unexpected arrival giving Kurt the chance to wrench his wrist free.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Master," Sebastian says, finally bowing his head, wrapping his arms loosely, but protectively, around Kurt's torso. "I've been sent to get you."

"Picking them a little young, are we, Kurt?" the man at the door asks with a condescending laugh. Then his face transforms, his mouth forming into a mocking 'o' of surprise. "Or…oh…is this love?"

"Blaine," Kurt says, but he doesn't sound like Kurt. Not Sebastian's Kurt. He sounds young and apprehensive…and nervous. "I think it would be best for everyone involved if you just left and didn't come back."

"But, baby," Blaine says, and Sebastian didn't think that the man could get any sleazier, "I haven't even had a drink yet."

Sebastian feels the tension in Kurt's shoulders, as if something has him locked there, paralyzed. Sebastian knows that talking out of turn, especially to one of Kurt's customers, could get him kicked out, but Elliott wouldn't have sent him to help Kurt if Kurt was going to throw him out. Or maybe that's an added bonus as far as Elliott is concerned, but it doesn't matter right now.

Kurt needs him.

"I beg your pardon," Sebastian says, standing to his full height, his eyes boring into Blaine's skull, "but my Master told you to leave. So, I think you need to go."

Blaine chuckles and shakes his head, obviously with no intention of going anywhere.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be scared off by a teenage boy in a Cub Scout uniform," the man with the gel helmet and the soft, pathetic smile scoffs, gesturing up and down Sebastian's body. He laughs Sebastian off, dismissing him like he would a child.

Sebastian steps in front of his Dom, shielding Kurt with his body, a move he for sure thinks Kurt won't allow, but fuck it. Fuck all of this. Sebastian is tired of assholes and their put-downs. Sebastian has had his fair share of those. Still does. But that's not his sole impetus here. Without having to be told in words, Sebastian is certain that this man – this conceited hollow husk who calls himself a Dom - is the reason Kurt has that tattoo cover-up on his arm, and that makes Sebastian's insides overflow with rage.

"First of all, it's a Boy Scout uniform," Sebastian says, tugging at the shoulder of his sash with his thumb and forefinger. "Show some respect, and second, if the uniform's an issue" - Sebastian leans forward, mean mugging Blaine until his superior grin dissolves into a thin-lipped, uncomfortable excuse for a smile - "I can take it off and then beat your ass into the pavement. It's your call."

Blaine swallows hard enough for Sebastian to hear over the thumping music behind him. Blaine averts his eyes around Sebastian's body, but Sebastian moves to keep Kurt blocked.

"Are you going to let this kid talk to me like that?" he says, trying to push past Sebastian, but Sebastian doesn't budge. He's more than prepared to help this man outside, with one or more broken legs if he has to.

Sebastian feels a hand on his wrist, and a subtle kiss to the back of his arm – possibly the only thank you he'll get before he gets his shorts pulled down to his ankles and his bare ass spanked in front of everyone.

But that kiss, chaste as it is, speaks to Sebastian.

That kiss is worth all of it.

"Back down, preppy," Kurt says, stronger, bolder, much more like Sebastian's Dom Kurt, and Sebastian has no problem stepping aside.

"Yes, Master," he says. He keeps an eye on Blaine, waiting for Kurt to step back in front of him before he bows his head, making it clear to anyone watching who he bows for.

"Get out, Blaine," Kurt says, a hand latched around Sebastian's wrist behind him. "You're not welcome here. You're never welcome here. Get that through your thick fucking head."

Blaine laughs in Kurt's face. "Are you shitting me?"

"If I see you here again, I'll call the police. This is your last warning. I'm not putting up with your crap any more. Go away, and don't come back."

Blaine's disbelieving laugh, permanently affixed to his stunned face, only now starts to dip. "You can't be serious."

"You know" - Kurt turns his head slightly to include Sebastian in the conversation - "I wouldn't mind watching my Boy Scout here turn you into a smear on the sidewalk. In fact, I'm almost certain it would be hotter than hell."

Kurt's hand around Sebastian's wrist slides up his arm to wrap around his neck and pull him down to his mouth. Sebastian raises his eyes to look at Blaine, winking when Kurt closes in for a brief, but deep, kiss.

"Whatever," Blaine says, rolling his eyes. "You'll be back. You'll be back when little boy toy here doesn't want you anymore. You always are. But next time, I might not want you." He points at Kurt. "Think about that."

Blaine winks back at Sebastian. "Enjoy him while you have him, Boy Scout. And don't be fooled by all of his big talk." Blaine smiles with dark eyes and a display of white teeth. "He likes it on his knees. So you might want to consider flipping your shit." Blaine stares at Kurt like he knows everything there is to know about him, like he owns him because of it, then turns around and leaves the club.

And Sebastian can't remember hating anyone more.

"Are you alright, Master?" Sebastian asks, uncertain whether or not he should put his arms back around Kurt. Kurt continues to stare out the door after Blaine has gone, his expression blank.

Empty.

"Master?"

Kurt doesn't answer, and he doesn't move his eyes away. Sebastian doesn't want to insult his Dom, or disrespect him, but he needs Kurt to respond to him.

"Kurt," he says quietly, so no one else but Kurt will hear.

Kurt's head snaps up, his thoughts finally falling back to earth. He squares his shoulders and brushes his cheeks. Sebastian, at a loss for how to help, moves to block the view of other Doms and subs around, trying out of concern or curiosity to catch a glimpse of legendary badass Dom Kurt Hummel brought to tears.

"Drive me to that fancy school of yours, preppy," Kurt says, but unlike his other commands, this one has an understood please hiding within the consonants and vowels. Kurt doesn't say please because he's not accustomed to asking people for anything, but Sebastian hears it in there.

"Sure, Master," Sebastian says, following Kurt out the door. "Whatever you want."

***Okay, so here at the end we have Kurt kind of get into a situation where we see Sebastian step in to help. At the end, Kurt kind of spaces out, and we see Sebastian have to bring Kurt back down to earth. I can already hear the cries of, "Kurt's a bad Dom! He shouldn't do that to his sub! He shouldn't put that kind of responsibility on his sub to take care of him..." blah blah blah. Okay, but what you'd be missing is that Sebastian is not a dedicated submissive. Not yet. And as I have mentioned many times in notes and comments for other chapters, there are different types of submissives. Sebastian sort of identifies as a "Warrior Prince submissive". Which means that this is well within the realm of interaction for the two of them. I think what a lot of people fail to realize is that submissives are not these weak, flailing things. It takes an incredible amount of strength to be a submissive, and submissives display that strength in many ways. The man that Sebastian is, and the submissive that he is for Kurt, would definitely stand up for Kurt, and be there to comfort him, as in opposition to the book that shall not be named where "Captain of Many Colors All the Same" submits to his unwitting submissive in an act of petulance, who then feels lost because she has no clue what to do or how to handle the situation. But Sebastian wasn't lost. He wasn't distressed. This is their dynamic. If you have any more questions or concerns, you are invited to leave them politely in the comment section and I'll be happy to discuss it with you.