A submissive is defined as a person that naturally and consensually seeks a position of powerlessness (psychological or physical) in a power exchange dynamic. Allowing a Dominant or Dominating Switch to take control over them.
A Dominant is defined as a person that naturally and consensually takes the position of power (psychological or physical) in a power exchange dynamic. Accepting responsibility to care of a submissive or submitting Switch.
A Switch is defined as a person that naturally and consensually can seek a position of powerlessness or the position of power (psychological or physical) in a power exchange dynamic. Giving them the responsibilities of a submissive or Dominant, dependent upon scene.
Domination Constitution- Article A, Section Four: Citizen Definition
Of all the classes that Blaine is required to take a Dalton, the academic ones were by far his favourite. His father likes to point out that he inherited the Anderson Brain. Which means he's very good at memorisation and problem solving. It made school, well not necessarily easy, but something he was more than capable of doing well in. Growing up, that had been a sense of pride for his family. Look at their talented son. So obedient, handsome and smart. A perfect child, a perfect submissive.
Too bad it all turned out be a lie.
But even now, at the very least, Blaine can say he's a good student. Though his teachers are all subs and switches themselves, he's quite good at listening. Even if the subject isn't exactly what he wants to learn about, the boy can make himself pay attention to what's being taught. Until today. Blaine literally has no idea what his teacher is talking about. He can barely remember that this is history class. Maybe.
All his eyes can see is Kurt Hummel. Thanks to where he's sitting, Blaine's only view is of his profile, but it's a wonderful profile. A view that he can feel etched into his mind, like an imprint. Somehow he knows that, even if he never sees Kurt again, he'll always remember this view. But he will see Kurt again won't he? Everyday till one of them meets Dalton's standards of rehabilitation and is allowed to go home, where maybe in college they'll be able to meet a good Dom.
The pressure of the expectation alone is enough to quicken Blaine's heart, even as he sits in class. The idea of the future flits quickly out of his head though, pushed to the back so that it doesn't become overwhelming.
Instead, his mind focuses on the few parts of the new kid that he can see. His eyelashes catch Blaine's attention first, the gentle way in which they curve upward. Not stupidly long and girly, like Blaine's, but framing. Drawing attention to the shining, glittering eyes that Blaine saw for just a few moments. Next, the sub notices his cheekbones, high and elite looking. Like he belongs in a bygone age of aristocrats and nobles, instead of sitting in a rehabilitation classroom. The way Kurt sits says this too. Back straight, posture perfect, with one leg resting crossed over the other.
Silly as it is, Blaine wishes he had a sketch pad right now. Or maybe a mound of clay. A camera would work too. Some way in which he could take this moment and the wonderful view that he has, and capture it forever. Of course, that would require him to have any sort of artistic ability, but Blaine is willing to learn very quickly. Anything for this boy.
A part of his brain tells Blaine that he should stop staring so openly, that he should take some notes and pay attention to his teacher. Kurt is taking notes, his pencil moving gracefully across across a notebook. Blaine wonders what his handwriting looks like. Probably neat, script-like and small, nearly unassuming. But bold, the strokes dark from being pressed down hard in absolutely assuredness. No hesitation. So very unlike how Blaine writes. If you look in his notebook, you'll see that his words are like chicken scratch, hesitant, with smudge marks where his eraser tries in vain to hide his mistakes.
The muscles in his neck give a painful twinge, clearly not happy about being forced into a cocked position for so long. His body yearns to twist a bit, maybe stretch and crack his neck. But he can't get his eyes to look away. Not from the lovely pale skin, not the regal looking neck, nor the sea coloured eyes that are staring back at him; a single eyebrow raised as if in amusement.
Blaine jumps in his seat, looking down immediately. He can feel his cheeks heating up from embarrassment. Of course he'd be caught staring, of course. Can't even do that right, now can he?
Oh man, what must Kurt think of him? Just staring at him like that, like Kurt is a spectacle or show. He remembers what it was like after Master was found out. The way people looked at him, whispered as if speaking at a normal tone would startle his fragile mind. It made him feel even more small and disgusting. Like failure was written in giant flashing lights above his head for everyone to read. Point at. Stare at.
The sound of his teacher opening a drawer pulls Blaine's eyes upwards again, to find that no one is looking at him any longer. Not even Kurt. He can't help the feeling of disappointed shame from creeping up chest. As if he's failed some sort of test all over again. The feeling sits on his heart, festering there with each pounding of new blood.
Only the sound of the bell signalling the end of class is able to bring him out of it. Everyone else in the class begins to gather their things. Their usual animated chatter fills the room, but Blaine doesn't take part. His eyes are too busy following the elegant way in which Kurt is putting his items away in a messenger bag. Follows the way in which Kurt makes his way up to the teacher's desk to share a word.
"Blaine, you ok?" Jeff asks. When Blaine looks up, his friend is giving him one of those looks that tries not to be too inquisitive, but still belays all the care it can. Reinforced, of course, by David and Nick standing behind him.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Trying his best to smile at his friends, Blaine hopes that his friends won't think anything of his strangeness right now. If he has any luck left, they'll assume it's because of this morning and nothing else.
"Hurry up. Thad wants to introduce us to the new kid." Jeff urges, bouncing a little where he stands, watching Blaine close his bag.
The curly haired boy hands slips on the clasp at his words. Meet the new kid? Blaine could actually meet Kurt? He wasn't sure he was ready for that! What if Kurt thought he was stupid or ugly? What if he just sputtered and embarrassed himself? Blaine couldn't do this, he just couldn't. It was too much too soon, even though he didn't quite understand himself saying that. Kurt's opinion of him shouldn't matter to him at all, the new kid was a stranger. But it did matter, so very much.
Blaine tried to take deep breaths as he followed his friends out of the classroom. He didn't even acknowledge Miss Kellye saying goodbye to them, just focused on his breathing. One breath in through the nose, filling the lungs. Let it sit a moment, ruminate in the flesh, before letting it slowly out of the mouth. Wait a second, rinse and repeat. The submissive managed three large breaths like this, before he was in the hallway and unable to keep his eyes from looking up.
The first thing he saw was Thad shaking Kurt's hand and an intense jealousy welled up in his stomach. Why was Thad able to touch him? Blaine wished Kurt would touch him. Bet his hands were soft, feeling deceitfully delicate unless the boy wanted to show you his full strength.
This was so insane. Not even before his days with Master, had Blaine ever been so attracted to another person. Sure, he thought plenty of boys were hot, and knew without a doubt that he was gay. Thanks to some of the more attractive celebrities, he used to have plenty of material in his wank bank. Back when he did that. None of that measured up to the desperate way in which his eyes seemed to want to stay locked on Kurt Hummel.
"Hey guys," Thad said, once he noticed that the others were out of the classroom. "This is Kurt."
"Hello." Kurt greeted them all, and Blaine had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. How could a human being actually sound like that? That's what angels should sound like. There's no way that Kurt Hummel belongs here, amongst them, not with a melodic voice like that.
The rest group all said hello though, introducing themselves one by one. Blaine did his best not to let his voice crack as he did so, but he was pretty sure he failed. At the very least, he didn't sound like himself. Enough so that, even if his friends didn't look at him twice, Kurt's eyes lingered on him, clearly thinking he was strange. But even if those lovely eyes were on him for the wrong reason, Blaine couldn't help the chill that ran up his spine when their eyes locked for just a moment. Kurt was even more amazing looking up close, and Blaine had to keep his eyes down in fear of being blinded by the beauty.
"We better get to class. Don't want Mr. Perry to get upset that we're late." David said, breaking up the little congregation. Every nodded, following along as Thad and David told Kurt all about Dalton, how the schedule worked, which teachers were the best and how good the food tasted. Blaine followed along, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep them from choking his bag strap again.
Kurt sat in the empty seat in front of Blaine in English class. Then in the seat two aisles away in Chemistry. Blaine can't remember anything else about that afternoon though.
There isn't a lot that Blaine thinks he's very good at, but even he has to admit that he's a good people watcher. He's always considered it his greatest asset as a submissive. At least, his school teachers have always told him it was a good thing, even if it hadn't been enough in the end.
This skill is something he can still fall back on when needed though. Particularly now, at breakfast the next morning. His first instinct upon seeing Kurt walk in with Thad, was to crawl over to him and present himself. But as displays of submission are prohibited at Dalton, the boy reigns in the desire. Barely. Instead, he watches, eyes following the flowing way in which Kurt walks and nearly running away into the land of grandiose prose and poetry. Blaine needs to focus though, because if he knows anything right now, it's that he wants Kurt to be happy. There's not rational explanation for why he feels this way, but Blaine isn't questioning it. It feels right in a way that not much else has in a long time.
The things that Kurt does are easily viewed and filed away. From the breakfast he chooses (yogurt parfait and wheat bread toast with strawberry jam), to the way he takes his coffee (two espresso shots, non-fat milk, two pumps of chocolate) how he carries his tray, (balanced on his left hand, the right free to grab items), all the way to how he sits down at the table (tray down first, school bag sat under the chair, then sliding in from the left side).
"Hello." Kurt says, once he's settled at the table.
The boys all greet Kurt back, even Blaine manages to make a sound of acknowledgement. Though it's a far cry from articulate speech. Hopefully Kurt will just think he's not a morning person. At least he's at the table today, instead of dragging his feet to start his day. Tuesdays and Thursday are the only days his stomach sees a real breakfast.
"How'd you sleep last night?" Jeff asks, starting a conversation, and Blaine couldn't have been more thankful for Jeff's talkativeness. Goodness knows he doesn't know what to say. He can't even look at Kurt right now.
But at the same time, he can't really take his eyes off him. As he pushes food into his mouth automatically, his peripheral vision catches the movement of a pale hand as it dips into the yogurt, or gestures to tell a story. It's like his entire body is in tune with Kurt's and he's powerless to stop it. Not that he's even trying. Instead, he's just eating his food, letting his eyes follow their natural course, as the flow of the conversation around him lulls him into some other place in his mind. Deep inside his chest is a strange feeling he can't quite put his finger on. His heart feels stiller than it has an ages, though, and for once he thinks he might be ready to face the day.
That feeling doesn't leave him as he follows behind his friends and go to their bi-weekly group therapy session. When they enter the room, Mrs. Graves is already sitting in her chair at the head of the room, the start of the circle that makes up their group. As they all start to sit down, Blaine notices that another chair has already been added for Kurt. Who, it seems isn't entirely sure what to do, if the way the tall boy is standing on the outside of the ring, glancing between them all. Blaine opens his mouth to try and offer help, but doesn't make it in time.
"Hello, Kurt, lovely to see you again." Mrs. Graves says, smiling her therapist smile at the new kid. "In Group, we don't have assigned seats. Just pick a chair in the circle."
Blaine watches as Kurt nods, facial expression not changing a bit as he sits down. There's something hard about his look, aloof. As if he's already begun to dismiss all this, even before he's even started the therapy. The way his eyes sweep over the room feels judgemental in a way that makes Blaine's skin crawl. The feeling of failure begins to well inside him without even understanding why.
"Hello again boys."
"Hello, Mrs. Graves." All the boys respond, completing their usual opener for the session. Blaine laced his fingers into a fist, eyes in his lap because he knew what was next because it happened to him only a couple months ago.
"I know you guys have met him already, but I'd like to formally welcome Kurt Hummel to our group." The therapist smiled at Kurt, who still looked as if he was nearly bored with that was going on. "Would you like to say something about yourself?"
There was no way that Blaine was going to pass up an excuse to stare at Kurt. His eyes shot up quickly, watching as the pale young man uncrossed his legs and unfolded himself from his chair in one easy, artistic movement.
"Hi, I'm Kurt." Even bored sounding, the voice was lovely. "I'm seventeen, from Lima. I love musical theatre and fashion, either of which I plan to study in college." The boy didn't waste any more time speaking, instead retaking his seat, throwing one leg over the other in a casual way.
Mrs. Graves nodded at the boy, but Blaine knew she wasn't done yet. "Thank you. Would you like to share why you're here at Dalton?"
"Because they made me come."
Every eye in the room latched onto Kurt again, but this time wide-eyed with shock. The dismissive way in which he spoke took them all by surprise. Sure, all of them had been forced to come here, but they hadn't fought against it. They were happy to be away from their Doms, happy to be in a place where they didn't have to constantly feel afraid. But Kurt, the look in his face was as if he thought the entire notion of him being here was silly.
"I'm sure your parents and teachers did put in the paperwork for you, since you're a minor." Their therapist said, not missing a beat. "But do you think you can tell us happened to spark that?"
This part was usually the hardest for any Dalton student. It took Blaine three weeks before he could get the words out, all of them spilling over in a waterfall of pain, hurt, messed up, sorrysosorry. But Kurt only shrugged at the question. "I was paired with a boy named Dave. As a punishment, he tried to make me submit in public. I refused because it's a limit for me. He got angry and hit me."
All of the other Dalton students tensed at the word punishment, some of them even flinching at the idea of being hit. The memories of painful marks still fresh in their minds. Blaine knew that it had to be affecting even Nick, who had been here nearly the full two years and was due to graduate soon.
"And how did that make you feel?"
Kurt snorted, still managing to sound dignified to Blaine's ears. "It pissed me off. So I left and cancelled our contract."
"And came here." Mrs. Graves said, clearly trying to keep some measure of control here. She was one of the few Switch adults here, so that she could control the boys if they became too distressed in therapy. Maybe she wasn't extending her Dominate side, Blaine was too busy staring at Kurt to tell, but even she didn't seem to be able to get Kurt to cooperate.
"Yes, because they made me." He said decisively, speaking slowly as if to a child.
Blaine forced his eyes to stop looking at Kurt to see their therapist's reaction. For just a moment he caught a glimpse of shock in her eyes, as well as something else he couldn't quite name. It was like she was looking at him with judging eyes, not sure what to make of him. He'd never seen that look on her face before. "Well, I'm sure that's how it feels now. Thank you for sharing with us, Kurt. Would anyone like to go first for their weekly update?"
Nick raised his hand and Mrs. Graves gestured for him to go on. Blaine wasn't listening though, he was too busy trying to think. It was hard, because a part of him wished he could be in a more comfortable position to do this, preferably on his knees next to Kurt.
That was the problem, though, wasn't it? What he wants is not possible. Not only do Dalton rules say he can't do that, but surely Kurt has enough to deal with, without Blaine being a burden on him by wanting to crawl behind him all day. It's not easy to come to be at this school, no matter how classy it may look. But maybe, just maybe, Blaine can help Kurt feel a bit more comfortable.