“I’m home, Kurt!” The call from the doorway isn’t entirely necessary–each time the hinges are forced open they squeal at an almost-painful decibel, easily heard throughout their box-sized apartment–but Kurt smiles at the announcement anyway, calling back, “Hey, honey,” from the kitchen table where he’s been slumped over his notebook for an hour or so, busy studying for the massive music history exam he has coming up tomorrow morning. The names, keywords, and dates are all starting to blur into an indecipherable mountain of numbers and letters.

“Hey,” Blaine greets in return when he walks in. He plops down two takeout boxes on the table. “I swung by the Chinese place on the way back. School’s been working you so hard. You deserve a break and some fat grams.”

Kurt smiles, reaches for his hand and strokes his fingers over Blaine’s wrist appreciatively, “Thanks for going to the trouble.”

“It was just one extra stop down the block, Kurt,” Blaine shrugs, “And I get orange chicken out of it. That definitely makes it worthwhile.”

Kurt laughs, glad to have an excuse to close his notebook and set it down on the floor. He uses his feet to grab the leg of the chair adjacent to him and tugs it closer. Blaine wordlessly plops down at his side, grabbing his plastic fork while Kurt picks up the throw-away chopsticks Blaine had brought back for him.

“Good day?” he asks a few minutes later, breaking the silence between bites.

Blaine shrugs, “Mmph,” and speaks up again once he’s swallowed. “Good enough, yeah. I’m glad it’s almost the weekend, though.”

“God, me too,” Kurt groans in in agreement, “Tomorrow after my exam could I convince you take a picnic and go to Central Park with me? I need to ditch schoolwork and get out for a while.”

“I’d love to,” Blaine says, “And you can lay on the grass and let me give you one of my world famous back massages.”

“You’re so good to me.” It’s a simple observation, just plain fact. Blaine smiles humbly.

“I like taking care of you, Kurt. Making you happy.”

“I know.” They go back to eating, but Kurt nudges Blaine’s foot underneath the table, pushing his socked toes down between the knob of his ankle and the edge of his shoe, forcing the material to bend. Blaine’s feet shift away for a moment, out of Kurt’s grasp, and there are two muted thumps on the tile before they return, skin bared for Kurt to touch.

After his last bite, Kurt wipes the greasy end of the chopstick off on his napkin, leaving the surface of the thin wood dry, even if the stain of the sauce is too stubborn to come out. Blaine finishes his food just in time, and Kurt lazily reaches over, elbow propped on the table’s edge. He drags the tip of his utensil up the line of Blaine’s neck, over the swell of his Adam’s apple. Blaine swallows with sudden awareness, and Kurt sees goosebumps crawl up his arms.

Just a single tap on the bottom of Blaine’s chin is enough instruction for him to understand. His casual posture gives way to something new as his back straightens out and he squares his shoulders, being careful not to lean against the back of the chair. His head lifts the slightest bit, exposing his neck. Next to him Kurt hums contentedly, appraising the perfect posture.

“Good boy.”

Blaine’s breath hitches. It’s soft and inaudible, but Kurt can see his chest expand with a small jerk. He swallows again and blinks slowly, staring ahead at an invisible point on the wall, waiting– waiting for his Dom to guide his next move. His unfailing trust never ceases to amaze Kurt, even though they’ve been at this for years now. Blaine looks beautiful when he’s so eager to obey.

“You can clear off the table, Blaine,” he permits, voice calm, “And get us each a glass of water. You must be thirsty.”

“Yes, Kurt.” He gets to his feet, one hand on the tabletop for a moment as he orients back into his body. Kurt smiles to himself. Sometimes Blaine seems to teeter near subspace so quickly when they begin a scene that Kurt wonders if he’s not constantly living one step from going under.

Blaine doesn’t rush to clean up, and Kurt doesn’t hurry him. He tosses the empty food cartons into the trash and wipes down the table with a damp washcloth before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet above the sink. Kurt listens patiently, reclined in his chair while Blaine cracks a few cubes from the ice tray and they clatter into each glass. When he brings them back over and sets them on the table, Blaine sits back down, posture perfectly straight.

“Drink.”

Blaine drinks. Kurt sips as he watches the water level trickle down and down and down until Blaine’s setting an empty glass back on the table with a sigh. His tongue drags over his lips.

Now it’s Kurt’s turn to rise from his chair. He sets the dishes in this sink, pouring out what’s left of his own, and passes back by the table to grab Blaine’s hand and lead him out. Blaine follows in relaxed silence to the couch. He drops to his knees before Kurt even has a chance to speak, anticipating that the Dom will want his mouth. Why else would he have wanted to make sure his submissive was hydrated and prepared to churn out saliva?

But apparently Blaine’s guess is incorrect. “No, no, honey,” Kurt pats his hand against the couch cushions, “Up here.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, quickly moving to correct himself.

“Shh,” Kurt brushes it off, “You’re fine. On your back,” he instructs, “There you go.” He smiles, standing over Blaine’s reclined body for a few long seconds before joining him. The couch is small, forcing Kurt to flatten himself down against Blaine, but neither of them mind. On the contrary, Kurt feels a low hum of contentment rumble in Blaine’s chest at their proximity.

With Kurt’s weight pressing down on him, Blaine has to take shallower breaths, and the slight reduction of air leaves him with a pleasant buzz of lightheadedness. He’s not ashamed by the gradual heat pooling in his groin either–not when Kurt’s gone on to begin kissing his neck, pinning Blaine’s arms at his side.

“You’ve been so good for me lately,” Kurt purrs at Blaine’s throat, “Massages and takeout. And leaving surprise notes for me to find in all my school stuff.” He giggles out a breath, “When did you even find time to sneak them in?”

“I’ve been getting up to make the coffee twenty minutes earlier than usual all week to write them,” Blaine explains, “And I stuff them into your books and notes before you get out of the shower.”

“I love you so much.” He sits up to kiss Blaine properly, and the submissive puckers up with a flair of comical dramatics, lips puffed out like an expectant fish. After a moment passes with no kiss, one of Blaine’s eyes squints open to gauge Kurt’s reaction, and he snorts out a laugh at the bitch face staring down at him. “I’m trying to have a serious moment with you, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt says with false exasperation, “And you’re being ridiculous. If I wasn’t so comfortable here I’d have to get up and give you a good spanking.”

He’s only teasing, but Blaine’s cock still twitches at the thought, and he holds his breath, hoping Kurt is somehow oblivious to the erection that’s starting to strain at his zipper.

“And yes, I can feel that, Blaine.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, blushing.

“Don’t apologize,” Kurt’s voice is soft again. He leans in to try another attempt at kissing. This time Blaine doesn’t give him any antics, accepting the affection with the makings of a smile bunching up the muscles in his cheeks. “I’d be offended if my Blaine didn’t get all hot and bothered for me.”

His Blaine. It never fails to sound heavenly–so right.

Kurt shifts his weight around for a few seconds, leaning to the side just enough to fit his hand down between Blaine’s legs, and he rubs at the outline of the sub’s cock through his jeans. A long moan bubbles up from Blaine’s gut, spilling out of his mouth with abandon while Kurt works down against his length.

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Yes,” Blaine answers, voice tight, “Yes, Kurt.” He whines, hips trying to press up into his Dom’s palm, but Kurt’s still got him pinned down beneath his weight. “Can I–?” he requests.

“Whenever you need to, honey,” Kurt tells him, “You deserve it.”

It doesn’t take more than another minute before Blaine reaches orgasm, grunting his way through the shocks of pleasure while Kurt lays back over him, rolling his hips down a few times to continue the pressure and keep Blaine’s body thrumming in afterglow.

“Good boy,” he whispers, adding teasingly, “You want me so badly you came in your pants, hm, sweetie? Such a dirty, good boy, just for me.” Blaine’s jaw is a bit slack, his lips parted and his neck draped back over the armrest of the couch, but Kurt kisses his mouth anyway, pushing his tongue in briefly. He catches a taste of fried rice from earlier before he pulls away.

Kurt brushes his hand through dark hair and over the soft skin at the shell of Blaine’s ear, watching the short curls spring back into place between his fingers. Blaine leans into the touch reflexively. His body seems to be bypassing subspace in favor of relaxing straight into sleep, but Kurt isn’t bothered. Watching his lover rest is just as beautiful a sight as any. And if he ends up taking a nap on Blaine’s chest for a while, putting kinks in his back from the odd position, he knows Blaine will be more than happy to work them out later with one his ‘world famous’ massages.