What I Say To Make You Mine

It's not that Kurt doesn't like being pregnant. He loves it. The way Blaine just can't keep his hands off him, ever since the day Dr. Branson sat them down together and told them, with a broad smile on his face, that they were expecting a baby, since Blaine had almost screamed in excitement, gathering Kurt into his arms and spinning him around the room while their doctor laughed at them. He loves the way Blaine will stand behind him when he's examining his changing body in the mirror, smoothing his palms over his rounded sides, the swell of his belly, whispering in his ear how beautiful he is, how amazing he looks carrying Blaine's child. The way Blaine keeps him safe and satisfied and comfortable, the fact that there are no lengths he won't go to. The way he helps with every problem the pregnancy brings on him, with foot rubs and back massages and making herbal tea in the middle of the night and running to the twenty-four hour store on the corner to satisfy his crazy cravings and definitely satisfying him sexually no matter the situation, finding new positions to keep them both happy as Kurt's belly grows every day, rendering their usual arrangements impossible without possibly injuring their baby. Those moments of quiet when Blaine lies with his head on Kurt's bump, smiling up at him and pressing gentle kisses to the stretched skin.

But what he doesn't like is how his clothes stretched across his obvious bump somehow present themselves as an invitation to strangers in the street to rub his stomach like it's some sort of good luck charm, or a sample of expensive fabric in a store. Strangers touching him, people he's never seen and will never see again with their hands all over the swell of his stomach that he wants to keep a glowing secret between him and his boyfriend. Especially when he's alone, without Blaine to spread his hand over his belly a second after an unfamiliar touch, brushing away the memory and making everything right within the world again, just him with no way of forgetting unwelcome caresses.

"So when are you due?" the salesgirl asks sweetly, folding the baby clothes neatly and slotting them into the paper bag while Kurt flips open his wallet for his credit card.

"Five more weeks," Kurt says with a sigh, handing over his card and picking up the bag of clothes. "I'm almost going to miss being pregnant and having my boyfriend wrapped around my little finger."

"Congratulations for when the time comes," she says warmly as she hands his card back with the receipt. "Thank you for shopping here, I hope you'll come back again soon."

Kurt smiles at her and leaves, slinging the bag over his shoulder and meandering slowly down the street, gazing longingly at the designer clothes in the store windows, dreaming of the day when he'll have lost the baby weight and be able to wear his usual attire again, when they'll be raising their baby and be able to go back to their loud, experimental, slightly rough sex life.

He's standing waiting to cross the road, rubbing the spot at the small of his back that always aches where their baby presses against his spine, when yet another hand creeps over his belly. And it's the final straw.

"Just leave me alone!" he snaps, slapping the hand away. "Just because I'm pregnant and I'm waddling around with some huge belly doesn't mean you can just come out of nowhere and touch me. If you do it again I will make sure my Dom knows everything, and he doesn't take kindly to strangers touching me."

He turns around to glare at the person to see a man, arms folded and eyebrow quirked in amusement, standing with Blaine next to him. He flushes immediately, staggering back a few steps. Blaine grabs him by the hand, stopping him from falling into the road, and pulls him close. "Kurt, why did you speak like that to another Dom?" he asks gently.

"I'm sorry, sir," Kurt says quietly, averting his eyes to the sidewalk, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. "It won't happen again. I'm just frustrated and annoyed with people who keep trying to invade my space to touch a bump that should be between us, between you and me."

"It's okay," the stranger says gently. "I'm Gregory, I'm a co-worker of Blaine's, we were just lunching together when he saw you on the street and insisted on coming out to see you. You got lucky with him, Kurt. I'm willing to drop this and I'm sorry for causing distress to you and your relationship. I'll see you tomorrow, Blaine. Don't forget, Mal wants the column on her desk tomorrow morning."

"Of course, I'll finish it tonight," Blaine says, grinning at the man while Kurt stands idly by, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, one hand spread protectively over the swell of his belly. Gregory leaves and Blaine turns to him, eyes stern. "Kurt, you realise you will have to be punished for this? You can't be disrespectful to another Dom."

"I understand," Kurt says softly. "Take me home, please. I don't want anyone else to touch me." Blaine complies, slipping an arm around him and not letting go until they're back in their apartment, the walk having been silent and laced with tension. "Sir, I…"

"Do you understand why you have to be punished?" Blaine asks, standing straight in the hallway as he takes the bag from Kurt.

"Yes, sir. I was disrespectful to another Dom."

"And what's the agreed upon safe word?"

"Pavarotti."

"And do you promise to use this word if at any point you're uncomfortable with anything we're doing?"

"I promise. But, sir, how exactly are you going to punish me without hurting our baby?"

"Go to our bedroom, Kurt," Blaine orders, voice gentle but the authority undeniable, rendering it impossible for Kurt not to obey. "Strip, lie on the bed and wait for me there."

Blaine joins Kurt in the room ten minutes later, when anticipation is already surging in his veins, stirring his cock to half-hardness. "Sweetie, I'm going to punish you, and I want you to listen to me," he says softly, the rough materials of his clothes dragging deliciously over Kurt's bare skin. "Whatever I do, however it affects you, you may not make noise, and you may not come."

"But…Blaine-"

"Are you questioning my orders, sweetie?"

"Of course not, sir. I understand, sir."

"You will not make noise and you will not come?"

"Yes, sir."

Kurt watches as Blaine strips slowly, watching the movement of his hands as the clothes drift elegantly to the floor, the luxuriously drawn-out appearance of familiar expanses of warm olive skin, his hands itching to touch. His hands are warm and slightly rough with calluses as they smooth over the swell of Kurt's belly, Blaine's face breaking out into a smile at the nudge of a tiny foot against his palm, then up to circle his nipples to a sharp intake of breath from Kurt. Though their doctor had told them that, like most male carriers, Kurt wouldn't lactate, the number of times Blaine had taken advantage of the heightened sensitivity of his darkened, swollen nipples could not be counted.

Blaine slithers down his body, fingers dancing across the stretched skin of his stomach again, glancing up at Kurt's rough pant and commanding, "Don't come, and don't make a sound," before he pushes Kurt's thighs apart and sinks his mouth down around him.

Kurt arches up, teeth digging hard enough into his lip to draw blood, hands flying down to grab at Blaine's hair, tugging hard and desperate as Blaine braces an arm over his hips. Blaine's hands shift constantly, dragging across his thighs and over his hips and up the trace the bottom curve of his bump, playing across the skin. Since the first day a tiny bump developed, Blaine's had a shameless obsession with Kurt's belly, always touching and caressing, and it only grew worse when their baby started kicking and visibly moving.

Kurt tugs hard on Blaine's hair, and luckily his Dom takes the hint and sits up, eyes dark and hair mussed and a smear of saliva at the corner of his mouth. Blaine meets his eyes, seeing no protest, only want and a silent plea. He smiles at Kurt, runs a hand over the swell of his belly and reaches for the half-empty bottle on the nightstand.

Within a matter of minutes Kurt is up on his hands and knees, neck arching back and breath shuddery as Blaine fucks slowly into him, laying kisses over each bump of his spine with every thrust. Everything around them fades, to that one pinpoint, to the sweet drag of Blaine inside Kurt, fucking him bare, the harsh groans falling from Blaine's lips and the hitch of Kurt's breath.

Kurt's shaking violently as Blaine makes love to him, perfectly in control while Kurt is a mess, gritted teeth and tightly closed eyes and hands twisting through the sheets, lower lips stained with blood where he's bitten into it too hard and too many times. "What do you need, sweetie?" Blaine asks softly, teasingly. "You can make noise now."

"I need to come!" Kurt cries out, eyes flying open as he pushes back against Blaine desperately. "Please, sir, please let me come."

"Come on, sweetie," Blaine whispers darkly, the heat in his stomach twisting up tighter and tighter with every needy whine ripped from Kurt's lips. "Come for me."

Kurt does, whining loudly and babbling, "Blaine, oh Blaine, Blaine fu-uck," as he spills into the sheets in spurts. Blaine presses his forehead against Kurt's back, shaking through his own orgasm. When Kurt starts to sag into the mattress, he's quick to pull out, holding his exhausted, sated boyfriend up as he grabs a pillow to place under Kurt's back and rolls them away from the damp spot on the sheets.

"You're getting too big for sex like that," he whispers fondly, laying down next to Kurt and running his fingertips over his arms, his sides, his chest, walking them over his bump and over the softening shape of his cock.

"Mm, tickles," Kurt breathes sleepily, nuzzling into the pillow and grabbing behind him for Blaine. Blaine slips closer, wrapping his arms around Kurt and falling into their dual heartbeats, the warmth of his boyfriend's body.

"Go to sleep, sweetie," he murmurs, already falling into a satiated slumber.

Just before he slips off, he hears Kurt let out one last breath of, "Yes, sir."