A/N: Every time Chris Colfer does a photoshoot, I ultimately end up drowning in Dom!Kurt feels. Today I woke up to a plethora of new Chris pictures and gifs on my Tumblr dashboard, and I had to write something. Thanks to blainestache on Tumblr for prompting the genius plot! Pretty sure it's gonna stay a one-shot, but if I write anything else in this verse, I'll add it on here as a new chapter.

Blaine didn't know what had happened that had made him get this lucky. How he, a 21-year-old, recent college graduate, had the massive fortune of being assigned as principal photographer to a photoshoot like this was beyond his understanding. It was one thing to be made principal photographer at a professional shoot to begin with, but the fact that Kurt Hummel was scheduled to be modeling for the afternoon was nearly enough to make Blaine's brain melt out of his ears.

The world renowned Kurt Hummel didn't just model for anybody. He had the right to be picky. No one argued with his judgment. He was well respected in the world of fashion, and by extension, the worlds of art and photography. Blaine was halfway convinced it was all one big prank, or one ridiculously long dream he was having, until he met the man himself.

They briefly shook hands before Kurt was ushered away by his team of stylists. To help pass the time, Blaine double checked that the crew had set up all the lighting properly. When Kurt emerged from the dressing area some time later, Blaine was so awestruck by his appearance that he nearly dropped the unneeded tripod he was moving out of the way.

Once they set up the first shot, Blaine went to work. He was terrified for the first few minutes, imagining that everyone around the room was judging him, but on the other side of the camera, on display for all to see, Kurt looked entirely at ease. Everyone and their mother knew that Kurt Hummel was a Dominant. Even if he wasn't open about his status, it was clear in the way he carried himself and lived his life. He was supremely confident and surprisingly humble, and something about seeing the man at work, purely in his element, helped ease Blaine's own anxious nerves.

Every few minutes the supervisors paused the shoot and a slew of assistants rushed forward, adjusting Kurt's clothing, carefully urging any stray hair back into the immaculate coif, and ensuring that the very limited makeup his pale skin needed to combat the flash of the camera was still smooth and all but unnoticeable. Blaine waited on the side each time, gripping the camera too tightly, looking on at the proceedings as if he was doing some professional planning—perhaps setting up the next angles in his mind. In reality, however, all Blaine could manage to do was wish that he was among the team crowding around the model, allowed to be so close—to touch.

Quickly enough the assistants always retreated and Blaine got back to work, directing Kurt to turn his head to the left but keep his eyes on the lens. Flash. Now look out that window to your right. Flash.

The rest of the first half hour proceeded in the same fashion. When they took a quick break for Kurt to slip into a different outfit, the assistants followed him back out into the side room littered with racks and racks of clothing. Despite his eagerness to go along, Blaine stayed behind in his place. An older, more experienced photographer who had done hundreds of shoots could probably pass along his ideas to the stylists for clothing options and even stand by to watch while they worked their magic to fit the fabric to the model's body, but Blaine was nowhere near that level, and there was no way to pretend he had any right to watch the one and only Kurt Hummel change his clothes.

Swallowing hard, Blaine wandered through the spacious apartment, trying his hardest to focus on finding the next ideal location, envisioning Kurt in various poses as he eyed each potential spot.

By the time Kurt returned, dressed in waist high black pants, dark sunglasses, and a graphic tee whose sleeves hugged his biceps in a way that was truly sinful, Blaine had decided on the new setting. "Right this way, Mr. Hummel," he said, showing him the way. Where the staircase met the landing, long sheets of transparent glass held up a thin silver railing, overlooking the view of the floor below them. All along the opposite wall, large windows let in massive amounts of bright sunlight, playing off the white walls and casting Kurt in a visible glow that was nearly ethereal.

"If you could just lean back on the railing like this," Blaine told him, briefly demonstrating by turning around and lowering his weight against the silver bar. Kurt nodded once, easily falling into the pose, and Blaine looked him over, trying to be clinical about it. "Arms back just a little more," he suggested quietly, daring to reach out and ever so gently press his fingers into the crook of Kurt's elbow. Kurt moved at the touch, letting Blaine guide him into place, and then the photographer stepped back to glance over the whole image again.

"Perfect," he said, a satisfied smile lighting up his face as he retreated several feet away and lifted the camera up to his face. "Just do what feels natural," he told Kurt, "Tilt your head a little. Turn it. Look around, whatever you feel like. Don't worry about me getting the perfect shot; just play with it."

Blaine didn't have an ounce of reservation in letting Kurt take the reins on his stance and appearance. The 25-year-old model had been modeling since he was a pre-teen—infinitely longer than Blaine had been in photography. He knew what he was doing. No one dared to question Kurt's judgment, and as the Dom confidently changed the tilt and angle of his head every few seconds, Blaine moved to capture it at the best angle he could find, the flash of the bulbs making the only disruption in the silent, concentration-filled room.

When the model had initially walked out for the second portion of the shoot, Blaine had thought the addition of sunglasses would make things easier on himself. If he couldn't see Kurt's stunning, deep, blue-green eyes, he couldn't accidentally get lost in them. The theory made perfect sense in principle, but in practice, it failed as disastrously as the Titanic's maiden voyage.

The young photographer quickly found that hiding the Dom's eyes did nothing but add another element of intrigue to the overall image of him. Now when Kurt faced the camera, Blaine really had no idea where the model's eyes were trained. He could just be looking at the lens, but he could just as easily be dragging his gaze up and down the length of Blaine's body, unabashedly examining the sub's slim waist and tight pants. The mere thought was enough to make Blaine's head spin a little, and he had to take a few deep breaths whenever Kurt turned his head to face the camera's direction.

Once, Blaine lowered himself down on one knee, angling the camera up to get the entirety of Kurt's tall body in the frame. Just as he was about to press the shutter button, Kurt's head moved from where he'd been gazing off toward the staircase. The Dom stared him down through the lens. Even through the sunglasses, Blaine could feel Kurt's gaze, and he almost missed the opportunity to get the shot, the flash barely going off before Kurt was glancing away again. The weight of Kurt's eyes on him lingered, and Blaine had to use a hand to support himself as he pushed back onto his feet, resisting the urge to fall entirely to his knees in a sudden rush of submission. He couldn't imagine a more embarrassing scenario; though no one could really blame him for being enchanted by the most gorgeous model who'd ever walked the earth. There was a reason Kurt Hummel had been named Sexiest Man Alive nearly half a dozen times.

When the end of the second segment of the shoot arrived, Blaine was rather relieved. The stylists followed Kurt out again to get him changed into the last outfit of the day, and the photographer took a long breath to calm himself. He accepted the water bottle an assistant was holding out to him, draining half of it in a single swig.

You need to get ahold of yourself, he thought desperately. If you screw this up, you might never work again.

Blaine could see the gossip headlines now: "Young Photographer Unable to Resist Kurt Hummel, Falls to His Knees During Photoshoot!" "Horny for Hummel: The Rise and Fall of Blaine Anderson's Cut-Short Career!" He'd be the laughingstock of the world of professional photography. Blaine already knew what some people were saying; furious that such a young, inexperienced, fresh-out-of-college 'amateur' was getting to shoot with the one of the world's most renowned fashion icons. Preposterous, they called it; ridiculous; a waste of time and money.

If he lost himself now, Blaine wouldn't be able to bounce back. This shoot would literally make or break his longevity in the industry. If he was successful, he'd be known as the youngest photographer to ever work with Kurt Hummel, and hopefully his work would be admired for years to come. If he was unsuccessful, he would fade into obscurity, becoming nothing but the butt of jokes and insults. This was not the time to let his submission get the best of him, no matter how powerful Kurt's presence was. The lingering arousal had to go, and it had to go now.

Blaine's intentions were valiant. His goals to adhere to professionalism for the rest of the shoot were honorable. His determination was strong.

But then Kurt Hummel walked back out into his line of vision, wearing a black suit from his own personal wardrobe that hugged his body in all the right places without a single clamp or pin. His hair was a perfectly styled mess, purposefully ruffled like he'd almost rolled out of bed. Waves of deep warmth rolled over the sub's body, all the way down to the ends of his fingertips and toes. Kurt sat in a white chair and crossed one leg over his opposite knee. The pant leg pulled back, revealing the one black sock that accentuated thin ankles and led the eyes down to the immaculately shined shoes he wore. With all the practice of someone who'd done it a million times, Kurt fell into a pose without instruction, bringing one fist up to rest near his chin and giving the photographer an expectant look.

Blaine knew he was a goner.

He started up on his feet, snapping pictures from multiple angles. He moved from one side of Kurt's body to the other, wandered toward the window and back again. Desperately trying to run the clock like a team on a football field, Blaine took every shot he could get while remaining upright, terrified to get any lower to the floor. Eventually, he ran out of options. There were only so many ways to photograph something at a single height before things began getting repetitive.

"Time?" he asked the room at large, expecting that someone would have been keeping tabs.

"Seven minutes left of the scheduled shoot, Mr. Anderson," an assistant responded.

Blaine nodded, letting out a breath through his nose. Seven minutes. All he had to do was get through seven minutes. Kurt watched curiously while the photographer's pause between shots dragged on, and finally Blaine bent his knees, resigned. He needed these shots. Refusing to kneel, the sub squatted uncomfortably, balancing on the balls of his feet while he angled the camera back toward his subject. Kurt glanced into the lens from time to time but mostly looked away, which Blaine was unbelievably thankful for.

As the minutes dragged by, Blaine's resolve slowly began to weaken. The call from Kurt's manager hailing the end of the shoot was like a declaration straight from heaven, sparing Blaine's soul. He got to his feet as quickly as he could, but Kurt made no move to stand himself.

The model had been rather quiet throughout the entire afternoon. Kurt was known for his silent concentration. It was common knowledge that if someone was too noisy during a shoot, Kurt didn't hesitate to send them on their way. He wasn't a diva by any means, but he certainly wasn't one to be argued with either. When he spoke up, the room listened.

"If you could all excuse us, I'd like to speak alone with the photographer—to congratulate the young man on his success."

Blaine couldn't remember how to breathe.

The assistants and crew filed out. Kurt gave his manager a pointed look that clearly meant something, though Blaine couldn't translate it. Footsteps shuffled down the stairs and out of the apartment. Within a minute, the building was cloaked in a heavy silence, and Blaine was alone with the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on.

"I'm impressed by your skills, Blaine," Kurt told him then, "It's not very often you see such a young photographer with such finesse and vision."

Blaine blushed, floored by the praise. "Thank you. It's been such an honor to work with you, Mr. Hummel. I can't believe I got to do this."

Kurt smiled at him. It was just a small, simple grin, but in comparison to the sultry stares the world had come to expect from the model, the fond expression seemed like a gift to Blaine—like a great secret that Kurt was sharing with him. Blaine smiled back without a thought.

"You seemed to be just a little distracted at times, though," Kurt continued calmly. "I can't help but wonder why."

Blaine ducked his head bashfully. "Forgive me, Mr. Hummel, but sometimes you can be a little a distracting." The photographer chuckled nervously, clutching the camera in his hands. "You're very attractive." What are you doing? You can't flirt with a model! Kurt laughed softly, and the sound was like pealing bells. Blaine had to fight a moan of desire.

"You're not so bad yourself, honey," Kurt replied. Blaine's jaw dropped open in shock. "Why don't you set the camera down before you drop it," he suggested. Blaine did as he was told, carefully putting the expensive piece of technology aside on a nearby table.

"I don't mean to pry," Kurt said, "but you're a submissive, aren't you?"

Blaine nodded. "And you're a Dom." A very powerful, sexy, incredible Dom.

"Mhm." Kurt uncrossed his legs, spreading them open a bit more than necessary. Blaine didn't realize he was staring at the model's crotch until Kurt spoke again, drawing his attention back up to his face. "Blaine? Are you seeing anyone right now?"

"N-No," Blaine stammered, "No, Mr. Hummel."

"Call me Kurt."

"Kurt," Blaine echoed.

"Good." Blaine tried to ignore the way the world tilted at the feeling of receiving Kurt's approval. The Dom continued, "Because I think I'd really like to take you out to dinner sometime. I bet you'd look gorgeous on my arm at red carpet events, don't you?"

Blaine gaped, wordless.

"Would you like that, Blaine?" he asked. "Would you like to get to know me better?"

"Yes," the sub said instantly. "Please, yes." Kurt smiled wide at that, real happiness lighting up his features. Blaine grinned giddily in return.

"Good. Thank you, Blaine," Kurt murmured. "Now then, why don't you come a little closer?" Blaine shuffled forward immediately, continuing to move while Kurt's finger beckoned, all the way until a mere few inches separated them from one another. "I saw how much you wanted to kneel for me earlier, honey," Kurt admitted. Blaine bit his lip, embarrassed. "Don't be ashamed," the Dom urged. "We can't help our instincts."

"I know," Blaine sighed. "I was just so scared that I was gonna lose it. There was so much pressure for me to do well at this shoot. I didn't want to screw this up."

"Well, you did wonderfully," Kurt promised, his voice slow and calculated, "and now the shoot's over. There's no pressure anymore."

Blaine met Kurt's eyes, not quite certain what the model was implying. Could he really be suggesting what Blaine thought he was suggesting?

Kurt seemed to read his mind. "You'd look so handsome on your knees." The tone was dominant and authoritative. No sooner had Blaine heard the words than his knees buckled beneath him. Anticipating the break of the floodgates at the permissive words, Kurt reached out and caught Blaine as he fell, softening the blow as the sub lowered himself down to the hardwood floor. Already, Blaine was panting for breath.

"So gorgeous, Blaine," Kurt murmured, staring down at him. "You're so gorgeous."

"Please," Blaine whispered, "Please, Kurt."

"Please, what? What do you need, honey?"

"I want you so bad," Blaine mewled. The sub slid forward to pillow his head on Kurt's thigh, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Now that he was here, kneeling at Kurt's feet, every dirty fantasy he'd been repressing throughout the shoot was rushing to the surface, and Blaine was so suddenly aroused that he could hardly keep his thoughts straight. "Please, please, please."

Kurt stroked a hand across Blaine's cheek, soothing him. The sub fell quiet and Kurt pulled his hand away from his face, focusing his attention on the zipper of his pants. Blaine watched him undo it with wide, hungry eyes, and the sub whimpered when it became clear that Kurt was wearing nothing underneath.

The Dom lifted himself out of the chair a fraction, just enough to edge his pants down. Blaine eagerly gripped the black fabric, helping to tug it out of the way. When it had pooled at his ankles, Kurt sat once more, completely disregarding the fact that one of his most expensive suits was going to be a wrinkled mess. Some things were worth a few wrinkles—like a beautiful boy between his legs.

"Please, please, please," Blaine had started the begging chant once more. Kurt shushed him, giving his cock a few luxurious strokes. The sub watched, licking his lips, until finally Kurt urged Blaine forward, guiding his head with a gentle hand and letting the sub take him into his mouth.

"There you go, sweetheart," he murmured, gasping at the heat. "Good, Blaine."

It had been quite a while since Blaine sucked a man off. The last time he remembered, he'd been a junior in college, blowing his boyfriend on their three-month anniversary. They'd broken up a few weeks later. It had been years, and since then Blaine's young body had forced him to go through life feeling sexually frustrated more often than not. The feeling of Kurt's dick in his mouth, still mostly soft, was incredible—even moreso as the Dom grew harder, his length expanding and throbbing and filling Blaine's mouth to the brink. He took his time to work Kurt to full arousal, moving slowly and bobbing his head at a casual pace.

When he was certain that Kurt was fully hard and fully aroused the sub pulled off for a moment, reaching up to support the weight of Kurt's length in his fist. Pumping at the base of the hot flesh, Blaine took a moment to worship with his tongue. He trailed wet stripes up the underside, swirled at the head, and buried himself underneath to mouth at Kurt's balls, eliciting cries from the Dom that sent pleased shivers down his spine.

"Blaine," Kurt panted. Hands tangled in Blaine's curls, pulling him back. Kurt pushed the sub's hand away and pressed the head of his cock to Blaine's lips. "No more teasing," Kurt pleaded. "Take it, baby. Make me come." The sub was happy to oblige, opening his mouth and sinking back around Kurt's erection. The grip never left his hair, and the sub relished the commanding aura.

He moaned in ecstatic pleasure, hearing Kurt fall apart above him. The model's voice became strained and husky with increased arousal. He breathed in loud gasps that echoed through the apartment. "Fuck, you have a perfect mouth. Such a good boy. Unngh, harder," Kurt ordered, "C'mon, baby, suck harder." Blaine whined in acknowledgment, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated, picking up the speed of his bobbing head and hollowing his cheeks until the muscles of his face burned and ached.

Things got sloppy as desperation grew. The sub salivated at the taste of Kurt's precum, and before long Blaine was drooling down his chin, wide, lust-blown eyes staring up at Kurt's face. He wanted to see when Kurt orgasmed. He needed to see what sort of expression would appear on such a flawless face. How many people dreamed of making the Kurt Hummel unravel in pleasure? Blaine was living it. He moaned at the thought, and Kurt looked down at him. Their eyes locked.

Kurt stared, dumbfounded, down at the young man between his legs. Blaine's lips were red and swollen and stretched around him, shining wet with his own saliva. He'd never seen a pair of eyes look so desperate. "You want it?" Kurt panted, "You want me to come in your mouth, Blaine?"

The sub's whole body gave a violent tremble. Blaine's eyes glazed over as they welled up, so caught in the moment that he was on the verge of overwhelmed tears. Kurt tugged Blaine back by fistfuls of hair, holding him fast so the sub could only reach the head of his cock. Keeping Blaine in place, Kurt pulled one hand away from the dark curls and hastily wrapped it around his length. Using what was left of Blaine's spit to slick up his movements, Kurt jerked himself off, staring straight into Blaine's eyes as he did so, moans and curses spilling from his mouth in a near-constant buzz of sound.

When he finally came with a cry, Blaine yanked his head from Kurt's now-limp grasp, pushing himself to take as much as he could into his mouth while he swallowed. He continued to suck, lighter and slower than before, working the Dom through it. He didn't stop until Kurt gave him a silent cue in the form of a single tug on his hair. Blaine pulled off, thin trails of drool following in his wake.

"Perfect boy," Kurt whispered, wiping Blaine's face with the handkerchief from his coat pocket. The sub grabbed Kurt's tie with a trembling hand, pulling him down for a long kiss. When they broke apart, Kurt cradled Blaine's face in his hands, keeping their foreheads pressed together. "I wanna get you off," he breathed.

"You don't have to," Blaine blushed, giving the Dom a lopsided grin.

"Yes, I do, Blaine. I'm not just gonna let you stay aching all night."

"No, Kurt," Blaine rephrased, "You don't have to anymore." Kurt's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Blaine let out an embarrassed breath. "I, uh… I kinda already did."

"Oh… Oh." Kurt giggled. "I see."

"I just did a photoshoot with Kurt Hummel—world renowned model, fashion icon, movie star, and five time Sexiest Man Alive—and then I got to blow him," Blaine shrugged. "I think I have the right to come in my pants for something that amazing."

Kurt laughed, kissing Blaine again. "I might just have to hire you again sometime, Mr. Photographer," he said teasingly, "You can come to my bedroom and we can take some pictures together."