Porcelain & Velvet 3/?
Author: Odd
Title: Porcelain & Velvet 3/?
Rating: NC-17 (series overall)
Word Count: 2,088
Warnings: Parent death, car crash, suicide (first part only), prostitution (entire series)
Summary: For this prompt on the kink meme. "Kurt loses his dad in High School & cannot pay for college. He meets someone who tells him about a high class brothel where he can sell his virginity & earn enough money for college over a short time…" (Snipped a bit to omit potential spoilers and details that have been changed.)
Notes: Big thanks to happichick17 and fabrisse for helping me whip this into shape, and to foranotherworld, for being my secret-keeper and sitting through hours of hashing everything out. :) I'm so sorry this has taken so long to update. I'm going through some pretty major real-life drama right now, and quality time to write has been at something of a premium. :(
First part can be found here.
Wes had been Blaine's best friend at Dalton, and finding out that they were both from Lima, albeit different sides of town, had been a nice surprise when it had come time for their first school break. David and Thad were also good friends, but no one could compare to Wes. When Blaine's father had left, it was Wes who accompanied Blaine home on the weekends and helped him make sure his mother was taking care of herself. When his mother had died, it was Wes who showed up with a bucket of fried chicken and a bag full of bad movies just as Blaine was sure he'd scream if he saw so much as one more flower or letter of condolence. When Blaine had decided that he couldn't handle being in that house one minute longer, it had been Wes who'd talked his parents into letting Blaine stay with them. Of course it would end up being Wes, without even realizing it, who would end up leading Blaine where he needed to go.
"Hey, any of you guys want to order a pizza?" Wes asked during a break from the game of two on two they'd been playing with David and Thad. "I don't know about you, but I could definitely use something to eat."
The other three all exchanged looks and shook their heads. "Only if you're willing to compromise on toppings," David sighed. They'd give in; they already knew this. They always gave in to Wes' demands, because for all of his good points, he could be near insufferable when he didn't get his way. Thankfully, pizza was one of the few things he took seriously enough to dig in his heels. "We could get two," David offered. "One the way you like it, and another one with everything on it."
"If you're paying," Wes grinned, and David immediately knew he'd been had. Even if he hadn't, the way Wes and Blaine immediately high-fived and laughed probably would have clued him in. "Giovanni's is closed for remodeling, but I've heard good things about Rosati's. You guys up for trying them?" After a few shrugs and nods - the universal teenage boy-speak for "okay," Wes brought the number up on his phone and placed the order.
---
Just under half an hour later, a delivery driver about their age pulled up in an ancient Volkswagen Rabbit. "Are you Wes Lee?" he asked, eyes slightly squinted despite the sun coming from behind.
"That's me, Sam," Wes smiled, looking down at the driver's name tag before knocking his head in David's direction. "This guy's paying."
"Okay," Sam said, then chewed a little on his lower lip. "I have one with everything, and one with double sausage. Is that right?" The guys nodded, and when Wes took the pizzas and David handed over the money, including a generous tip, Sam reached into his pocket and produced a card.
"What's this?" Wes asked.
"You ordered double sausage," Sam explained, eyes wide as if he thought he'd just made a grievous error. "Look, never mind, okay? Forget about it. I must have misunderstood. Just…don't tell my boss, alright?" He turned around and ran back to the car, pulling away as fast as the ancient bucket would allow.
Thad took the card from Wes, then laughed and handed it to Blaine. "House of the Rising Sue Luxury Apartments. Where you always go to bed happy. You should take this, Blaine. After four years of rooming with him, I know how much Wes snores."
"How much luxury can an apartment in Lima have?" Blaine asked, taking the card and looking it over. "Besides, college isn't that far away. I think I can handle Wes' snoring until then."
"Man, Blaine can sleep through anything," David said, knocking an elbow against Thad's arm. "It's too bad Wes likes girls. They'd be the perfect couple if he didn't."
"Whatever," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "I love you, Wes, but you're really not my type."
"Damn," Wes deadpanned, "and I was just about to dump Sunshine for you."
---
Later that night, while Wes was on a date with his girlfriend, Blaine sat in their room and turned the card over and over in his hand. Ever since Thad had teased him about it, Blaine hadn't been able to shake the feeling that maybe he should find someplace else to live. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the Lee family's hospitality--he did. It was more a matter of Blaine's dawning realization that he couldn't stay with them forever, and he needed to get used to the idea of being alone sooner rather than later. Why not give this place a chance? It was eight o'clock, too late to call and talk to anyone, but maybe he could check out their website.
He flicked on his laptop, and when he brought up the site, the first thought he had was how incredibly cheap it looked. It was a nondescript building, a dull brown rectangle that stood about four stories tall. "I know you're not supposed to judge a book by its cover," Blaine muttered, clicking on the link to the available units, "but this might be an exception."
As the page came into view, Blaine found himself feeling strangely unsettled. There were a lot of units listed, and from the look of the building, Blaine didn't think there could be too many happy residents if there were so many vacancies. Out of morbid curiosity more than anything else, he began to flip through the image galleries. It was strange, he thought, that there were more pictures of the individual units than of the amenities listed. Even more strange was that each unit was depicted in some sort of outlandish decorating scheme that made it hard for Blaine to picture anyone wanting to live there. "Who would want to live in an apartment done up to resemble a locker room?" he muttered to himself as he looked at a grayed-over picture of a studio unit banked by a wall of lockers and holding a bin of red and white striped pom-poms in the corner. 'This unit no longer available' had been stamped over the picture in bright white lettering, and Blaine shook his head as he wondered about just what kind of people were behind such a place. It wasn’t until his eyes found themselves focused on a framed photo hanging from the wall that he began to get an idea.
He'd only seen the girl once before, but he knew he'd remember her face until the day he died. He went back and scanned through the photos of the other units, and sure enough, each one had the picture of a girl somewhere on display. His body went cold at the realization that after almost two months of searching, the very thing he'd been looking for had fallen right into his hands. With trembling fingers, he picked the card back up and scanned every inch of it for some clue. When none appeared, he clicked on the flashing link screaming CONTACT US TODAY! and held his breath. There wasn't much more information there than on the card, but there was a form for potential tenants, and Blaine hurried through it as quickly as possible. When he got to the bottom of the form, he frowned at the box labeled "special offers." After a few moments thought, he took a chance and keyed in doublesausage, then clicked SEND.
Almost immediately, the screen changed. All along the left hand side, larger images of the girls from the apartments stood in two rows that scrolled up and down the screen. He could really do this. He could get the whole thing shut down, but he would need a lot more information before he could really take any action. He looked over the various girls' photos, trying to figure out which one might look the most open to talking, but his attention was soon taken by what was happening on the right side of the screen.
It was mostly black, but silvery-grey lettering in a flowing script began to appear, one line at a time before fading back to black.
The times, they are a'changing.
We are pleased to announce a new era.
The era of
Porcelain.
As the last word faded from view, the black space was filled by an image that made Blaine's eyes widen and his heart race. It was a boy, about his age, head tilted slightly toward the floor with lips barely parted and lashes fanning against his impossibly pale cheeks. The deep black backdrop only emphasized his paleness, and his fingers stood out, long and thin as they held the edges of his hooded sweatshirt less than an inch from his face. Blaine found himself transfixed by the image, and it wasn't until he'd been staring at it for a good few minutes that he realized it wasn't a sweatshirt at all. It was just a length of fabric - velvet, from the look of it - that had been draped over the boy's head and shoulders. Pale slivers showed at the boy's shoulders and chest, and Blaine began to feel a strange tightness in his chest when he realized what he was seeing were glimpses of the boy's skin.
With a trembling finger, Blaine clicked on the picture and was taken to an image gallery that he knew would be put to good use later. With each image, more and more of the boy was revealed as the velvet covering him was dropped lower and lower. His hair was thick, his shoulders were broad, his waist was trim, and dear god, his skin was luminescent. The final picture of the boy - Porcelain, they were calling him - was a side view that had him stripped to the waist and glancing over his shoulder at the camera, and it was about as much as Blaine thought that he could stand. There was a certain delicateness about him, but what really struck Blaine was the strength that radiated from the boy even in such a stark image of vulnerability. He was lean, but clearly defined, and the determination in the set of his jaw and the pale eyes that looked almost silver in the black and white shot made it clear that this was not an individual to be taken lightly.
"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked the screen, knowing no answer would come. Almost as if to taunt him, the image vanished, a new message appearing in its place.
Pure.
Untouched.
Bidding starts at twenty-five thousand dollars.
Blaine didn't even think before he entered his credit card number into the window that followed and hit SEND.
---
As all of this happened, Kurt placed his diploma into his last suitcase alongside the family photo he'd kept beside his bed. He took a deep breath, then added it to the rolling cart he'd borrowed from the drama department to help carry his things to his car. His classmates all had friends and family to help them move out, but Kurt didn't really have anyone. There was Sam, he supposed, but it seemed too personal a favor to ask.
(Because directing Kurt to a brothel so he could pay for school wasn't personal at all, was it?)
Kurt shook away the bitterness as he loaded the last of the suitcases into his car and took the cart back to the theater. As he returned to his car and climbed in, he sighed at the thought of what he would soon be doing. If someone had asked him what his first job would be (working for his dad didn't count), prostitute would have been the last thing on his list. Kurt didn't even really think about sex. Sure, he'd explored himself a little, but that was more of a tension thing than anything really brought on by specific desires. Even when he'd had the crush on Finn, back before their parents had gotten married, he hadn't really thought about much more than kissing, and even that usually involved a classy fade to black before any tongues got involved.
Still, money was money, and Kurt couldn't think of any other way to get the amount he needed. All he could do was cross his fingers that whoever paid the highest price wasn't too disgusting, and that it would all be over before too long.
He'd been living a nightmare for almost two months. He was ready for it to end.
Part Four
Tracking Stats
Title: Porcelain & Velvet 3/?
Rating: NC-17 (series overall)
Word Count: 2,088
Warnings: Parent death, car crash, suicide (first part only), prostitution (entire series)
Summary: For this prompt on the kink meme. "Kurt loses his dad in High School & cannot pay for college. He meets someone who tells him about a high class brothel where he can sell his virginity & earn enough money for college over a short time…" (Snipped a bit to omit potential spoilers and details that have been changed.)
Notes: Big thanks to happichick17 and fabrisse for helping me whip this into shape, and to foranotherworld, for being my secret-keeper and sitting through hours of hashing everything out. :) I'm so sorry this has taken so long to update. I'm going through some pretty major real-life drama right now, and quality time to write has been at something of a premium. :(
First part can be found here.
Wes had been Blaine's best friend at Dalton, and finding out that they were both from Lima, albeit different sides of town, had been a nice surprise when it had come time for their first school break. David and Thad were also good friends, but no one could compare to Wes. When Blaine's father had left, it was Wes who accompanied Blaine home on the weekends and helped him make sure his mother was taking care of herself. When his mother had died, it was Wes who showed up with a bucket of fried chicken and a bag full of bad movies just as Blaine was sure he'd scream if he saw so much as one more flower or letter of condolence. When Blaine had decided that he couldn't handle being in that house one minute longer, it had been Wes who'd talked his parents into letting Blaine stay with them. Of course it would end up being Wes, without even realizing it, who would end up leading Blaine where he needed to go.
"Hey, any of you guys want to order a pizza?" Wes asked during a break from the game of two on two they'd been playing with David and Thad. "I don't know about you, but I could definitely use something to eat."
The other three all exchanged looks and shook their heads. "Only if you're willing to compromise on toppings," David sighed. They'd give in; they already knew this. They always gave in to Wes' demands, because for all of his good points, he could be near insufferable when he didn't get his way. Thankfully, pizza was one of the few things he took seriously enough to dig in his heels. "We could get two," David offered. "One the way you like it, and another one with everything on it."
"If you're paying," Wes grinned, and David immediately knew he'd been had. Even if he hadn't, the way Wes and Blaine immediately high-fived and laughed probably would have clued him in. "Giovanni's is closed for remodeling, but I've heard good things about Rosati's. You guys up for trying them?" After a few shrugs and nods - the universal teenage boy-speak for "okay," Wes brought the number up on his phone and placed the order.
---
Just under half an hour later, a delivery driver about their age pulled up in an ancient Volkswagen Rabbit. "Are you Wes Lee?" he asked, eyes slightly squinted despite the sun coming from behind.
"That's me, Sam," Wes smiled, looking down at the driver's name tag before knocking his head in David's direction. "This guy's paying."
"Okay," Sam said, then chewed a little on his lower lip. "I have one with everything, and one with double sausage. Is that right?" The guys nodded, and when Wes took the pizzas and David handed over the money, including a generous tip, Sam reached into his pocket and produced a card.
"What's this?" Wes asked.
"You ordered double sausage," Sam explained, eyes wide as if he thought he'd just made a grievous error. "Look, never mind, okay? Forget about it. I must have misunderstood. Just…don't tell my boss, alright?" He turned around and ran back to the car, pulling away as fast as the ancient bucket would allow.
Thad took the card from Wes, then laughed and handed it to Blaine. "House of the Rising Sue Luxury Apartments. Where you always go to bed happy. You should take this, Blaine. After four years of rooming with him, I know how much Wes snores."
"How much luxury can an apartment in Lima have?" Blaine asked, taking the card and looking it over. "Besides, college isn't that far away. I think I can handle Wes' snoring until then."
"Man, Blaine can sleep through anything," David said, knocking an elbow against Thad's arm. "It's too bad Wes likes girls. They'd be the perfect couple if he didn't."
"Whatever," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "I love you, Wes, but you're really not my type."
"Damn," Wes deadpanned, "and I was just about to dump Sunshine for you."
---
Later that night, while Wes was on a date with his girlfriend, Blaine sat in their room and turned the card over and over in his hand. Ever since Thad had teased him about it, Blaine hadn't been able to shake the feeling that maybe he should find someplace else to live. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the Lee family's hospitality--he did. It was more a matter of Blaine's dawning realization that he couldn't stay with them forever, and he needed to get used to the idea of being alone sooner rather than later. Why not give this place a chance? It was eight o'clock, too late to call and talk to anyone, but maybe he could check out their website.
He flicked on his laptop, and when he brought up the site, the first thought he had was how incredibly cheap it looked. It was a nondescript building, a dull brown rectangle that stood about four stories tall. "I know you're not supposed to judge a book by its cover," Blaine muttered, clicking on the link to the available units, "but this might be an exception."
As the page came into view, Blaine found himself feeling strangely unsettled. There were a lot of units listed, and from the look of the building, Blaine didn't think there could be too many happy residents if there were so many vacancies. Out of morbid curiosity more than anything else, he began to flip through the image galleries. It was strange, he thought, that there were more pictures of the individual units than of the amenities listed. Even more strange was that each unit was depicted in some sort of outlandish decorating scheme that made it hard for Blaine to picture anyone wanting to live there. "Who would want to live in an apartment done up to resemble a locker room?" he muttered to himself as he looked at a grayed-over picture of a studio unit banked by a wall of lockers and holding a bin of red and white striped pom-poms in the corner. 'This unit no longer available' had been stamped over the picture in bright white lettering, and Blaine shook his head as he wondered about just what kind of people were behind such a place. It wasn’t until his eyes found themselves focused on a framed photo hanging from the wall that he began to get an idea.
He'd only seen the girl once before, but he knew he'd remember her face until the day he died. He went back and scanned through the photos of the other units, and sure enough, each one had the picture of a girl somewhere on display. His body went cold at the realization that after almost two months of searching, the very thing he'd been looking for had fallen right into his hands. With trembling fingers, he picked the card back up and scanned every inch of it for some clue. When none appeared, he clicked on the flashing link screaming CONTACT US TODAY! and held his breath. There wasn't much more information there than on the card, but there was a form for potential tenants, and Blaine hurried through it as quickly as possible. When he got to the bottom of the form, he frowned at the box labeled "special offers." After a few moments thought, he took a chance and keyed in doublesausage, then clicked SEND.
Almost immediately, the screen changed. All along the left hand side, larger images of the girls from the apartments stood in two rows that scrolled up and down the screen. He could really do this. He could get the whole thing shut down, but he would need a lot more information before he could really take any action. He looked over the various girls' photos, trying to figure out which one might look the most open to talking, but his attention was soon taken by what was happening on the right side of the screen.
It was mostly black, but silvery-grey lettering in a flowing script began to appear, one line at a time before fading back to black.
The times, they are a'changing.
We are pleased to announce a new era.
The era of
Porcelain.
As the last word faded from view, the black space was filled by an image that made Blaine's eyes widen and his heart race. It was a boy, about his age, head tilted slightly toward the floor with lips barely parted and lashes fanning against his impossibly pale cheeks. The deep black backdrop only emphasized his paleness, and his fingers stood out, long and thin as they held the edges of his hooded sweatshirt less than an inch from his face. Blaine found himself transfixed by the image, and it wasn't until he'd been staring at it for a good few minutes that he realized it wasn't a sweatshirt at all. It was just a length of fabric - velvet, from the look of it - that had been draped over the boy's head and shoulders. Pale slivers showed at the boy's shoulders and chest, and Blaine began to feel a strange tightness in his chest when he realized what he was seeing were glimpses of the boy's skin.
With a trembling finger, Blaine clicked on the picture and was taken to an image gallery that he knew would be put to good use later. With each image, more and more of the boy was revealed as the velvet covering him was dropped lower and lower. His hair was thick, his shoulders were broad, his waist was trim, and dear god, his skin was luminescent. The final picture of the boy - Porcelain, they were calling him - was a side view that had him stripped to the waist and glancing over his shoulder at the camera, and it was about as much as Blaine thought that he could stand. There was a certain delicateness about him, but what really struck Blaine was the strength that radiated from the boy even in such a stark image of vulnerability. He was lean, but clearly defined, and the determination in the set of his jaw and the pale eyes that looked almost silver in the black and white shot made it clear that this was not an individual to be taken lightly.
"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked the screen, knowing no answer would come. Almost as if to taunt him, the image vanished, a new message appearing in its place.
Pure.
Untouched.
Bidding starts at twenty-five thousand dollars.
Blaine didn't even think before he entered his credit card number into the window that followed and hit SEND.
---
As all of this happened, Kurt placed his diploma into his last suitcase alongside the family photo he'd kept beside his bed. He took a deep breath, then added it to the rolling cart he'd borrowed from the drama department to help carry his things to his car. His classmates all had friends and family to help them move out, but Kurt didn't really have anyone. There was Sam, he supposed, but it seemed too personal a favor to ask.
(Because directing Kurt to a brothel so he could pay for school wasn't personal at all, was it?)
Kurt shook away the bitterness as he loaded the last of the suitcases into his car and took the cart back to the theater. As he returned to his car and climbed in, he sighed at the thought of what he would soon be doing. If someone had asked him what his first job would be (working for his dad didn't count), prostitute would have been the last thing on his list. Kurt didn't even really think about sex. Sure, he'd explored himself a little, but that was more of a tension thing than anything really brought on by specific desires. Even when he'd had the crush on Finn, back before their parents had gotten married, he hadn't really thought about much more than kissing, and even that usually involved a classy fade to black before any tongues got involved.
Still, money was money, and Kurt couldn't think of any other way to get the amount he needed. All he could do was cross his fingers that whoever paid the highest price wasn't too disgusting, and that it would all be over before too long.
He'd been living a nightmare for almost two months. He was ready for it to end.
Part Four
Tracking Stats