Porcelain & Velvet 6/?
Title: Porcelain & Velvet 6/?
Rating: NC-17 (series overall)
Word Count: 5,000
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…Blaine is Kurt's age, very well off…He buys Kurt's virginity." (Snipped a bit to omit potential spoilers and details that have been changed.)
Notes: Big thanks to wanderer_chan and fabrisse for helping me whip this into shape, as well as foranotherworld and flyblckbirdfly for being my secret-keepers, and puppetmasterc for the last-minute help. Going off of my notes, I think we have about four or five more parts to this, plus an epilogue and maybe a spin-off about a few of the supporting characters. I'm undecided. I've been kind of fascinated with them since I started writing this in August (and believe me, I'm mortified it's taken as long as it has), but I think I might be the only one. We'll see what happens.
First part can be found here.
"Someone's adjusting well."
Kurt looked up from his iPad and did his best to suppress a smirk as he saw Satana's figure looming above him. "Just enjoying a day off," he said airily. "You?"
"Same," she said, sinking into the chaise lounger beside him and taking off the short, black robe that covered her bikini. She cast a sideways glance at him and furrowed her brow. "Does Coach know you're out here? She's gonna get ugly if that milkmaid skin of yours gets any color. More ugly than usual, I mean. Hard to believe it can happen, but trust me, it can."
"SPF two hundred, stay under the canopy unless I'm in the pool, and I'm not allowed outside for more than an hour and a half." Kurt said as he adjusted his sunglasses and leaned against the back of the chaise, a smirk spreading across his lips. He'd been given the guidelines during his processing session but hadn't felt much like taking advantage of the privilege before now.
It was strange, how much better he'd been feeling lately. He knew he should probably feel a lot more anxious, now that Velvet was something real and not just some threat looming on the horizon, but he was pleasantly - if cautiously - surprised to find the opposite was the case. Something about his…patron? Was that the word to use? Kurt wasn't sure what to call him, but something about Velvet felt safe in a way he hadn't expected to feel with, well, anyone really, but definitely not with someone who'd paid in the six figures for the chance to do…that.
"Where's Bubbles?" Kurt asked, setting the device aside and reaching for the bottle of lemon Pellegrino Boo Boo had brought him earlier. He'd liked the pretty blonde when they'd first met, and she'd been a big part of why he'd begun venturing out of his room during free hours.
"With a client," Satana grumbled, pouring a large amount of tanning lotion into her hand and slapping it against her skin with a bit more force than was probably needed. She rubbed it in furiously, her leg beginning to look red-pink even through the colored liquid. "Coach won't let us have the same days off."
"Oh," Kurt said quietly, feeling slightly awkward for having asked. Everyone knew about Satana and Bubbles, but the brothel seemed to have an unspoken policy against addressing it outright. It didn't make any sense to him, but he was getting better about accepting that under Sue's watch, very little did. It was fine for Bubbles and Satana to curl up with each other on the sofa in the rec room while watching "Spice World" or to feed each other bites from their own plates at dinner before linking pinkies as they retired to one or the other's room until morning, but if anyone dared to hint that the two might be anything but Very Good Friends, things got weird really fast.
"Yeah," Satana frowned. "Oh." She finished applying her lotion without another word, but turned to face him once she'd stretched out and made herself comfortable. "So, what's the deal with your Mister Big? What's he like? Some sweaty bear who smells like mustard and tears? Or is he some married closet case who comes here still stinking like his wife's Chanel?"
Kurt worried his lip and silently counted to ten before answering. He'd known questions like this would come; he sensed them on everyone’s mind when he walked into a room and at least one corner would go silent. He also knew, for reasons he couldn't quite name, that it would be a very bad idea to answer too honestly. "No," he finally said, holding his voice steady. "I don't think he's married. Not a bear, either. He's kind of…" Kurt trailed off, trying to think of a nice way of saying short. "Compact," he finally supplied, moving his arms in front of him until they appeared to take the same shape they'd had when he and Velvet had been dancing. The memory of the hint of stubble Kurt had felt along Velvet's jaw came back and he couldn't help but grin. "Maybe he's an otter."
Satana flashed him a look of disgust and flopped onto her back. "You are seriously weird," she muttered, adjusting her shades, "and that's coming from someone whose girlfriend still believes in Santa."
---
"Hey, Blaine, wait up!"
Blaine stopped in his tracks and groaned inwardly as he turned to face Wes at the top of the stairs. "Oh, hey, Wes. Didn't hear you before. What's up?"
"I was just going to ask you the same question," Wes said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Where have you been?"
'Avoiding you,' Blaine thought to himself. "Ah, just busy getting ready for school," he said lamely, blowing a puff of hot air up toward his hair. "I got an apartment - I mean, I don't have it yet, but it's been arranged. I went up the other day to sign the papers, get a feel for the neighborhood. It's nice. Not far from campus." He shrugged a little and rocked on the balls of his feet. "I told you I was going away for a few days. I thought it would be a good time since you and Sunshine were going camping."
"You said you were going to take care of some things, but you didn't tell us where. Mom and Dad were really worried. So was I." The concern was clear on Wes's face, and Blaine felt like the world's biggest heel for not being more direct.
"I'm sorry, Wes. I'll talk to them later and apologize, okay? I guess I just needed some time away to clear my head and think about everything on my own." There, that sounded reasonable. Didn't it? "You and your parents have been great, but I haven't really been alone since…since I came here. I'm going to be leaving soon, and I guess I didn't want it to be too much of a shock when I found myself with no one else around."
He shrugged, sighed, then took a seat on one of the steps. "I didn't realize until last week just how lonely I've been. It's nothing to do with you or your family, it's just that they're your family. You're my best friend and I'm always going to want you around, but you've got your family and Sunshine, or maybe someone else someday. I'm having trouble picturing myself ever feeling like I have someone again."
Wes frowned. "Is this about that blind date you had last week? Blaine, I told you-"
"I know," Blaine cut in, "and believe me, I know that's not going to go anywhere."
"Not your type?"
"No, he's-" Blaine gave an embarrassed laugh. "He's kind of perfect, actually. He's like something from another world."
"But you're going away soon, and you'll never see him again," Wes said, nodding slowly as he eyed Blaine with suspicion.
"I am seeing him again," Blaine blushed. "Tomorrow, even."
"Blaine-"
"Look, Wes, I know what I'm doing. I'm going to spend the next few weeks feeling a little less lonely. It's going to suck when I have to say good-bye, but I'd rather hang out with him when I can than just write him off completely because I can't have him forever."
Wes took a seat of his own a few steps above Blaine and looked down with a curious gaze. "Long-distance relationships don't usually work," Wes sighed, shaking his head as if to silently broadcast his disbelief at going down this path. "Starting one with someone you've only started dating would be harder than most, but maybe you could give it a try. If he's as good as he seems, maybe you won't have to say good-bye."
"But I do," Blaine said quietly. "Even if I weren't going away soon, he's…got baggage."
"Well," Wes said, getting up and mussing Blaine's hair as he made his way down the rest of the stairs. "Maybe that means he's just as ready to start as new adventure as you are."
"Yeah," Blaine murmured to himself as Wes turned the corner at the foot of the stairs and headed for the kitchen. "Maybe he is."
---
Kurt had seen a lot of interesting musical interpretations in his day, but nothing quite compared to the sight of a two-year old attempting to perform a one-man show of "You Gotta Get A Gimmick" from Gyspy. The toddler could barely walk steady, but that didn't seem to stop him from singing his heart out. When he reached the line "if you gotta bump it, bump it with a trumpet," Kurt thought he might just about die from laughter.
"I'm so sorry," Rachel said, rushing into the room and scooping the little boy into her arms. "Stevie can be a little over-enthusiastic about these things." She paused, a flush coloring her cheeks as she lifted him and pressed a kiss to the little boy's temple. "He gets it from me, you know," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "I always thought I was going to be a big star someday. My name in lights and fans waiting with bated breath outside the stage door after every show."
"Mommy sings pretty!" the little boy giggled, arms thrown tight around her neck.
"Thank you, Stevie. You're Mommy's favorite audience." Rachel smiled as she set him back on the floor and gave a tousle of his hair before he ran off and into Raven's open arms at the other end of the rec room.
"Thank you for indulging him," she said, turning her attention back to Kurt. "He loves to perform for new audiences and after hearing so much about the pretty boy who just showed up, I think he wanted to impress you." She waved a hand and made a face that was equal parts embarrassment and pride. "He wants to impress everyone, but he especially likes boys. I don't let him around the clients so he doesn't see many. Maybe it'll change next year, once he's started preschool. Maybe he just takes after his grampas."
Kurt raised an eyebrow at the pluralization, but decided not to press it. "It's nice that Sue lets you bring him to work," he said. "That must make things easier."
"Oh, yes," Rachel nodded. "I don't make as much as I did before I had him, but that's my own fault, I suppose. We're comfortable enough. Between what I make as receptionist and what Jacob brings in-"
"Jacob?" Kurt asked, unsure why the name sounded familiar.
"Specs," Rachel blushed after a moment's hesitation. "We've been married for a little over a year now. We live in the little cottage building behind the pool." She caught sight of Kurt's reaction and stiffened a little. "I know what some of the girls think about him, but they're wrong. He's a good husband and a good father, and one of these days, Stevie and I aren't going to be the only ones who know what a good man he is."
"I'm sure," Kurt breathed, still not quite sure he could believe it. He didn't know either Rachel or Specs very well, but it was hard to picture them married. They barely looked older than him, for one. The fact that Rachel seemed so pert and upbeat while Specs seemed so much like a sniveling weasel inhabiting a human skin, for two.
"I hear you have another meeting with Velvet tonight," Rachel smiled, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Are you nervous?"
"A little," Kurt admitted. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he tilted his head as he looked into her eyes. "What does he look like?" he asked. "You have to have seen him, haven't you? Don't all of the clients come through your office?"
Rachel fidgeted a little, running a hand over her hair to smooth out an imagined flyaway. "I have," she said carefully, "but you have to understand that I'm under very strict orders not to give any information." She looked back into his eyes and blinked, exhaling slowly through her nose. "You could have done a lot worse," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I can't say more."
"That's okay," Kurt nodded, feeling disappointed by both her inability to say more and his own foolishness in thinking there'd been a chance of finding anything out. "I'm just anxious, I guess. I've never done this before and I'm not sure if having it dragged out like this is better or worse."
"It's not so bad," she said, resting a hand on his knee and patting it reassuringly before getting up to retrieve her son. "If it's really awful, you can always do what I used to."
"What's that?" Kurt asked, eyebrow raised.
"Close your eyes," Rachel said, turning her head over her shoulder to give him a weak smile; "and think of the collected works of Stephen Sondheim."
---
Blaine shifted nervously as he sat in the leasing office before that evening's appointment. He'd received a call earlier that day requesting that he arrive fifteen minutes early for a special consultation, and he'd been wondering what to expect ever since.
"Sue can take you now," the pretty brunette in the horrible sweater said as she rose from her desk and opened the door to the manager's office. "Good luck."
Blaine frowned, wondering why he'd need luck. "Thanks…" he trailed, still staring at her as he stepped into the office and saw the door slam shut before him.
"Take a seat, Short Stack." The voice was as dry and rough as sandpaper, and when Blaine turned to see the tall, blonde woman staring daggers at him he had to work to swallow the lump in his throat. "Don't just stand there gaping at me like a demented goldfish," she said. "Take a seat."
"Yes, Ma'am," Blaine said, rushing to the chair that faced her desk.
"I want to make something very clear," she said evenly. "I haven't managed to be the most successful madam in Ohio history by being a fool, and I don't intend to earn a reputation for being one now."
"Of course not," Blaine said, shaking his head solemnly.
"Let's not be delicate about this," she began, her voice sweeter than honey but her tone a stronger sting than any bee. "You paid over a hundred thousand dollars for the first crack at cracking my Porcelain, then doubled it for the chance to see him ahead of time. That's a very serious amount for even my most long-term and established clients, and it's unheard of for a first-timer. So tell me," she said, her voice growing colder with each word. "Am I going to have an ugly conversation with Mommy and Daddy about how their son's been using their credit cards without permission?"
"Mommy's dead," Blaine said, his own voice growing hard and cold. "Daddy may as well be. That money was mine, and there's plenty more where it came from. I'm sure you're familiar with the Soriano family - the one that owns half of the commercial real estate from Lima to Westerville, and is gaining more all the time?" Sue didn't respond, but the way she tilted her head back and gave the barest of nods led him to believe she was at least familiar enough to merit continuing. "My mother was Alina Soriano before she married my father. I inherited her share of the company after she recently passed away." He swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how much his palms were sweating as he fought to stay in control and not let on just how much the mention of his parents had upset him. "I may be small in stature, but I assure you that my financial portfolio is anything but." He leaned back in his chair and did his best to affect an air of confidence. "As anyone with the kind of resources I have could tell you, the best thing about being rich is being able to have whatever you desire. I desire this boy, so I did what I needed in order to have him."
Sue's lips formed a tight smirk and she took a drink from the protein smoothie on her desk before once again giving him her attention. "It's so cute when boys like you pretend you're men. You couldn't intimidate a pork chop, and everyone knows that pork is the least hardy of meats."
Blaine blinked as his façade fell, not entirely sure how to respond. "I'm sorry, I don't-"
"Of course you don't," Sue dismissed as she took another drink of her smoothie. "I'm bored. You're dismissed. Do what you will - within the established guidelines - and we'll see you again next week. Not me, of course, but the staff. My time's too valuable to be spent searching the ground for creatures too tiny to be seen at eye level."
Blaine stared at her for a few seconds before she waved her hand toward the door and he let himself out. "Your boss is a very strange woman," he said when he returned to the leasing office and found Clo Clo waiting for him.
"Dude," Clo Clo said, shaking his head and making a sound somewhere between a whine and a laugh, "you don't know the half of it."
---
Kurt sat stiffly on the edge of his bed, elbows locked as his palms rested flat at either side. He'd been told to be ready early that evening for Coach's approval due to a last-minute appointment of hers, and he'd been left waiting for a half an hour with nothing to do as a result. He'd paced around the room for a few minutes before walking directly into a wall and shouting a few words he was pretty certain weren't usually heard outside of Satana's "torture chamber." In any case, they weren't very befitting of the image he was so clearly intended to project. So sitting it was, and Kurt was beginning to think he might have a real future in mime when he heard the click of the door, followed by the rustle of footsteps and the soft thunk as the door was locked once more.
"Hello," Kurt said quietly, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He was still so unsure of what to expect -- what to believe -- but the anticipation was all the more intoxicating because of it. Part of him wanted to swing his neck to face the direction he thought Velvet might be standing, but he forced himself to remain facing forward. He'd probably look a fool, twisting this way and that to face someone he couldn't even see.
"Hi," came Velvet's response from near the door, sounding much younger than Kurt remembered. "H-how are you?"
"Fine," Kurt answered, nodding slowly. Something felt wrong. Shaken, really. Last week, Velvet had seemed in control, if a little unsure. At the moment, he seemed almost lost.
"Good, good…" Kurt heard the sound of Velvet's footfall and the soft swish of fabric rubbing against itself, then felt the bed dip beside him as he smelled the faintly spicy scent he remembered from the week before. The bed began to shake a little, and it took a second or two for Kurt to realize that the bed was shaking because Velvet was shaking. He was still processing the fact when he felt a soft, warm pressure brush against his thigh and heard a choked gasp escape his own throat. "Sorry," Velvet was quick to apologize. "I can get up, or-"
"No," Kurt interrupted. "It's fine. Really." Everything felt strange - even stranger than expected - and all Kurt wanted was to find a way for things to make sense. As much as he could hope for in a place like this. They sat there in awkward silence for a while, and Kurt almost didn't believe it when he was the one to finally speak up and break the deafening silence. "We could dance again if you’d like."
"Yeah," came Velvet's voice beside him. "Let's do that." Kurt felt the bed rise as Velvet got to his feet and then the feel of Velvet's hand warm against his shoulder to help guide him. Velvet slid his arm around Kurt's waist and placed a hand against his spine, thumb stroking gently through the fabric of Kurt's shirt. He sighed a little as he brought his face beside Kurt's, then licked his jaw softly before whispering words of thanks into his ear. "Would you sing for me again?" Velvet asked softly after they'd shifted around the floor in one spot for a few minutes. "You have a remarkable voice. I'd love to hear more of it."
Kurt nodded wordlessly, then fought for an idea of what he could sing. He knew he should have thought of something before their meeting, should have anticipated the request, but his mind continued to draw a blank until his lips parted without a thought and the words began to come.
"Something in the way he moves attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way he woos me…"
His face grew hot, convinced that the song was all wrong, blushing furiously as the lyrics went on and he found himself incapable of changing course.
And then it happened.
Velvet slid the hand he'd placed on Kurt's shoulder down and laced their fingers together, raising them between their chests. Kurt's heart began to beat even harder, and for a split second he thought he could feel Velvet's do the same. He did his best to keep control of his voice as he felt the warmth of Velvet's breath against his hand, followed by the gentle brush of his lips as they moved across Kurt's knuckles. Kurt's voice faltered at the first "I don't know," and he wasn't sure how he managed to carry on when Velvet removed his hand from Kurt's spine and used it to help cradle the same hand he already held.
Velvet's lips slid along his fingers, kissing each one in turn as his thumbs massaged Kurt's palm and wrist. "Last week," he murmured, voice rougher than Kurt had heard it before, "I showed you how my hands could feel. Tonight…" he trailed, turning Kurt's hand over and dragging the underside of his lower lip against the thick, fleshy part of Kurt's palm; "I want to show you what we can do with yours."
Kurt's voice kept hitching and breaking through the song as sounds he'd never before heard himself make forced their way out of him as Velvet's mouth explored his hands. The gentle brushing of his lips and flat kisses with the tip of his mouth gave way to parted lips that sucked his fingers in as his tongue curled around them, tracking every crease and line of knuckle, finger, and palm, warm and wet and unlike anything Kurt had ever known.
The last line ended with a tortured mewl as Kurt felt Velvet take hold of both his wrists and slide both of Kurt's thumbs into his mouth at once, licking, tracing, probing, treating them in a way that made it very hard for Kurt to not think of how that mouth would feel on another part of his body that was currently aching like it never had before. The leather pants Kurt was wearing had been almost painfully tight when he'd put them on earlier, but now, with his cock hard and straining against them, they were nothing short of torture. Part of him was mortified by how obvious he knew it had to be. Another part was enjoying the way Velvet was making him feel too much to even care. He quit fighting the urge to subdue himself, and he felt a valve inside him release as he moaned loudly at the feel of Velvet dragging the edge of his teeth against his thumbs as he slowly pulled away and began to press the softest of kisses along Kurt's open palms.
"You have wonderful hands," Velvet murmured, his breath hot and damp against Kurt's skin. "They deserve to be worshipped just as much as the rest of you. And that," he said, bringing his face back up and just inches from Kurt's ear, "is a very great deal, indeed." There was a quaver in Velvet's voice, and Kurt could both hear and feel the need in it. The way it trembled and shook and felt so thick with want and urgency.
"In a few weeks," Kurt said very carefully, doing his best to project at least some illusion that this was all business, that he wasn't aching to touch and be touched and so, so much more. "You'll have the chance to worship however you like."
He heard Velvet's breath crack, and a low whine come from the stranger's throat as he leaned in and once again licked a hot stripe slowly and deliberately up Kurt's throat and jaw. "I meant what I told you," he rasped against Kurt's ear, "but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want that, too." Kurt took a step forward, and Velvet gave another short cry as they brushed against one another just long enough to prove that at least on one level, he meant what he was saying. "We can't," he said weakly. "The agreement…"
"Right," Kurt said, stepping away. His ear still tingled from Velvet’s breath, and even though he couldn’t see he knew their lips couldn’t be more than a few inches apart. How easy it would be to just turn his head and...
No. He couldn’t do that. His leg brushed against the edge of the bed as he took another step and lowered himself carefully. Without thinking, he lowered a hand to adjust himself, then blushed more furiously than ever as he realized that Velvet must have noticed. "The agreement has to be observed," he nodded, then forced himself to take his hand away and rest it on the bed. He felt his palm dampen the fabric, and he had to stifle another groan as he realized how wet his hands must be.
His hands. For years, Kurt had kept his hands so much to himself. No one had come right out and told him to, but the disgusted looks on so many faces once it had been clear what - or who - he was had made it clear that his was not a welcome touch by most. As jarring as the experience of having Velvet's hands on him had been the week before, the knowledge that someone wanted his hands near was much, much more so. It wasn't just claiming something bought and paid for, it was an invitation, though to what Kurt wasn't entirely sure. It felt important. It felt exciting.
More than anything, it felt like a promise.
---
The moment Blaine got into his car, he punched the steering wheel and lunged forward, covering it with his chest as he dragged his fingers through his hair and made an inarticulate sound of frustration. What was wrong with him? How had he let himself get so far off-course so fast? He'd spent weeks seeking the brothel out, only to get distracted once he'd finally found it. He was supposed to be destroying it, not giving it hundreds of thousands of dollars to become a common customer.
No.
He wasn't a common customer. His meeting with the deranged woman in the track suit had made that clear. He was worse than the common ones. They probably just perused the site, conducted their business, and went on their way. He wasn't doing that. He was taking his time, dragging it out. For reasons he couldn't even understand, he went after the one offering he could possibly want to conduct business with, when he could have saved who knew how many of the others by now. Oh, sure, he'd told himself that he was trying to save the boy from the hands of someone less scrupulous, someone more motivated by their hormones than their heads, but…wasn't he one of them, now? Hadn't he just confessed to Porcelain that he wanted him? That he intended to claim his prize?
Blaine's cock was still stiff and aching as he threw his head back in his seat and stared upwards at the dome light. He did his best to push aside the memory of Porcelain's long, pale hand as it snaked between his legs and adjusted the erection that had strained against the leather pants that made Blaine almost afraid to look they were so tight. Blaine knew as well as anyone that being hard didn't necessarily mean you wanted to be, but the way Porcelain had responded to him, the way his lips had quivered and his head had dipped and his cheeks had flushed and everything about him had seemed to reflect Blaine's own want and need…wasn't it at least possible that Porcelain wanted this, too?
The thought made him ill as he realized how far gone he was. To rationalize something like that…it was just too much.
He barely had time to wrestle the car door open before he leaned out and threw up into the street.
Part Seven
Sites Counter
Rating: NC-17 (series overall)
Word Count: 5,000
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…Blaine is Kurt's age, very well off…He buys Kurt's virginity." (Snipped a bit to omit potential spoilers and details that have been changed.)
Notes: Big thanks to wanderer_chan and fabrisse for helping me whip this into shape, as well as foranotherworld and flyblckbirdfly for being my secret-keepers, and puppetmasterc for the last-minute help. Going off of my notes, I think we have about four or five more parts to this, plus an epilogue and maybe a spin-off about a few of the supporting characters. I'm undecided. I've been kind of fascinated with them since I started writing this in August (and believe me, I'm mortified it's taken as long as it has), but I think I might be the only one. We'll see what happens.
First part can be found here.
"Someone's adjusting well."
Kurt looked up from his iPad and did his best to suppress a smirk as he saw Satana's figure looming above him. "Just enjoying a day off," he said airily. "You?"
"Same," she said, sinking into the chaise lounger beside him and taking off the short, black robe that covered her bikini. She cast a sideways glance at him and furrowed her brow. "Does Coach know you're out here? She's gonna get ugly if that milkmaid skin of yours gets any color. More ugly than usual, I mean. Hard to believe it can happen, but trust me, it can."
"SPF two hundred, stay under the canopy unless I'm in the pool, and I'm not allowed outside for more than an hour and a half." Kurt said as he adjusted his sunglasses and leaned against the back of the chaise, a smirk spreading across his lips. He'd been given the guidelines during his processing session but hadn't felt much like taking advantage of the privilege before now.
It was strange, how much better he'd been feeling lately. He knew he should probably feel a lot more anxious, now that Velvet was something real and not just some threat looming on the horizon, but he was pleasantly - if cautiously - surprised to find the opposite was the case. Something about his…patron? Was that the word to use? Kurt wasn't sure what to call him, but something about Velvet felt safe in a way he hadn't expected to feel with, well, anyone really, but definitely not with someone who'd paid in the six figures for the chance to do…that.
"Where's Bubbles?" Kurt asked, setting the device aside and reaching for the bottle of lemon Pellegrino Boo Boo had brought him earlier. He'd liked the pretty blonde when they'd first met, and she'd been a big part of why he'd begun venturing out of his room during free hours.
"With a client," Satana grumbled, pouring a large amount of tanning lotion into her hand and slapping it against her skin with a bit more force than was probably needed. She rubbed it in furiously, her leg beginning to look red-pink even through the colored liquid. "Coach won't let us have the same days off."
"Oh," Kurt said quietly, feeling slightly awkward for having asked. Everyone knew about Satana and Bubbles, but the brothel seemed to have an unspoken policy against addressing it outright. It didn't make any sense to him, but he was getting better about accepting that under Sue's watch, very little did. It was fine for Bubbles and Satana to curl up with each other on the sofa in the rec room while watching "Spice World" or to feed each other bites from their own plates at dinner before linking pinkies as they retired to one or the other's room until morning, but if anyone dared to hint that the two might be anything but Very Good Friends, things got weird really fast.
"Yeah," Satana frowned. "Oh." She finished applying her lotion without another word, but turned to face him once she'd stretched out and made herself comfortable. "So, what's the deal with your Mister Big? What's he like? Some sweaty bear who smells like mustard and tears? Or is he some married closet case who comes here still stinking like his wife's Chanel?"
Kurt worried his lip and silently counted to ten before answering. He'd known questions like this would come; he sensed them on everyone’s mind when he walked into a room and at least one corner would go silent. He also knew, for reasons he couldn't quite name, that it would be a very bad idea to answer too honestly. "No," he finally said, holding his voice steady. "I don't think he's married. Not a bear, either. He's kind of…" Kurt trailed off, trying to think of a nice way of saying short. "Compact," he finally supplied, moving his arms in front of him until they appeared to take the same shape they'd had when he and Velvet had been dancing. The memory of the hint of stubble Kurt had felt along Velvet's jaw came back and he couldn't help but grin. "Maybe he's an otter."
Satana flashed him a look of disgust and flopped onto her back. "You are seriously weird," she muttered, adjusting her shades, "and that's coming from someone whose girlfriend still believes in Santa."
---
"Hey, Blaine, wait up!"
Blaine stopped in his tracks and groaned inwardly as he turned to face Wes at the top of the stairs. "Oh, hey, Wes. Didn't hear you before. What's up?"
"I was just going to ask you the same question," Wes said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Where have you been?"
'Avoiding you,' Blaine thought to himself. "Ah, just busy getting ready for school," he said lamely, blowing a puff of hot air up toward his hair. "I got an apartment - I mean, I don't have it yet, but it's been arranged. I went up the other day to sign the papers, get a feel for the neighborhood. It's nice. Not far from campus." He shrugged a little and rocked on the balls of his feet. "I told you I was going away for a few days. I thought it would be a good time since you and Sunshine were going camping."
"You said you were going to take care of some things, but you didn't tell us where. Mom and Dad were really worried. So was I." The concern was clear on Wes's face, and Blaine felt like the world's biggest heel for not being more direct.
"I'm sorry, Wes. I'll talk to them later and apologize, okay? I guess I just needed some time away to clear my head and think about everything on my own." There, that sounded reasonable. Didn't it? "You and your parents have been great, but I haven't really been alone since…since I came here. I'm going to be leaving soon, and I guess I didn't want it to be too much of a shock when I found myself with no one else around."
He shrugged, sighed, then took a seat on one of the steps. "I didn't realize until last week just how lonely I've been. It's nothing to do with you or your family, it's just that they're your family. You're my best friend and I'm always going to want you around, but you've got your family and Sunshine, or maybe someone else someday. I'm having trouble picturing myself ever feeling like I have someone again."
Wes frowned. "Is this about that blind date you had last week? Blaine, I told you-"
"I know," Blaine cut in, "and believe me, I know that's not going to go anywhere."
"Not your type?"
"No, he's-" Blaine gave an embarrassed laugh. "He's kind of perfect, actually. He's like something from another world."
"But you're going away soon, and you'll never see him again," Wes said, nodding slowly as he eyed Blaine with suspicion.
"I am seeing him again," Blaine blushed. "Tomorrow, even."
"Blaine-"
"Look, Wes, I know what I'm doing. I'm going to spend the next few weeks feeling a little less lonely. It's going to suck when I have to say good-bye, but I'd rather hang out with him when I can than just write him off completely because I can't have him forever."
Wes took a seat of his own a few steps above Blaine and looked down with a curious gaze. "Long-distance relationships don't usually work," Wes sighed, shaking his head as if to silently broadcast his disbelief at going down this path. "Starting one with someone you've only started dating would be harder than most, but maybe you could give it a try. If he's as good as he seems, maybe you won't have to say good-bye."
"But I do," Blaine said quietly. "Even if I weren't going away soon, he's…got baggage."
"Well," Wes said, getting up and mussing Blaine's hair as he made his way down the rest of the stairs. "Maybe that means he's just as ready to start as new adventure as you are."
"Yeah," Blaine murmured to himself as Wes turned the corner at the foot of the stairs and headed for the kitchen. "Maybe he is."
---
Kurt had seen a lot of interesting musical interpretations in his day, but nothing quite compared to the sight of a two-year old attempting to perform a one-man show of "You Gotta Get A Gimmick" from Gyspy. The toddler could barely walk steady, but that didn't seem to stop him from singing his heart out. When he reached the line "if you gotta bump it, bump it with a trumpet," Kurt thought he might just about die from laughter.
"I'm so sorry," Rachel said, rushing into the room and scooping the little boy into her arms. "Stevie can be a little over-enthusiastic about these things." She paused, a flush coloring her cheeks as she lifted him and pressed a kiss to the little boy's temple. "He gets it from me, you know," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "I always thought I was going to be a big star someday. My name in lights and fans waiting with bated breath outside the stage door after every show."
"Mommy sings pretty!" the little boy giggled, arms thrown tight around her neck.
"Thank you, Stevie. You're Mommy's favorite audience." Rachel smiled as she set him back on the floor and gave a tousle of his hair before he ran off and into Raven's open arms at the other end of the rec room.
"Thank you for indulging him," she said, turning her attention back to Kurt. "He loves to perform for new audiences and after hearing so much about the pretty boy who just showed up, I think he wanted to impress you." She waved a hand and made a face that was equal parts embarrassment and pride. "He wants to impress everyone, but he especially likes boys. I don't let him around the clients so he doesn't see many. Maybe it'll change next year, once he's started preschool. Maybe he just takes after his grampas."
Kurt raised an eyebrow at the pluralization, but decided not to press it. "It's nice that Sue lets you bring him to work," he said. "That must make things easier."
"Oh, yes," Rachel nodded. "I don't make as much as I did before I had him, but that's my own fault, I suppose. We're comfortable enough. Between what I make as receptionist and what Jacob brings in-"
"Jacob?" Kurt asked, unsure why the name sounded familiar.
"Specs," Rachel blushed after a moment's hesitation. "We've been married for a little over a year now. We live in the little cottage building behind the pool." She caught sight of Kurt's reaction and stiffened a little. "I know what some of the girls think about him, but they're wrong. He's a good husband and a good father, and one of these days, Stevie and I aren't going to be the only ones who know what a good man he is."
"I'm sure," Kurt breathed, still not quite sure he could believe it. He didn't know either Rachel or Specs very well, but it was hard to picture them married. They barely looked older than him, for one. The fact that Rachel seemed so pert and upbeat while Specs seemed so much like a sniveling weasel inhabiting a human skin, for two.
"I hear you have another meeting with Velvet tonight," Rachel smiled, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Are you nervous?"
"A little," Kurt admitted. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he tilted his head as he looked into her eyes. "What does he look like?" he asked. "You have to have seen him, haven't you? Don't all of the clients come through your office?"
Rachel fidgeted a little, running a hand over her hair to smooth out an imagined flyaway. "I have," she said carefully, "but you have to understand that I'm under very strict orders not to give any information." She looked back into his eyes and blinked, exhaling slowly through her nose. "You could have done a lot worse," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I can't say more."
"That's okay," Kurt nodded, feeling disappointed by both her inability to say more and his own foolishness in thinking there'd been a chance of finding anything out. "I'm just anxious, I guess. I've never done this before and I'm not sure if having it dragged out like this is better or worse."
"It's not so bad," she said, resting a hand on his knee and patting it reassuringly before getting up to retrieve her son. "If it's really awful, you can always do what I used to."
"What's that?" Kurt asked, eyebrow raised.
"Close your eyes," Rachel said, turning her head over her shoulder to give him a weak smile; "and think of the collected works of Stephen Sondheim."
---
Blaine shifted nervously as he sat in the leasing office before that evening's appointment. He'd received a call earlier that day requesting that he arrive fifteen minutes early for a special consultation, and he'd been wondering what to expect ever since.
"Sue can take you now," the pretty brunette in the horrible sweater said as she rose from her desk and opened the door to the manager's office. "Good luck."
Blaine frowned, wondering why he'd need luck. "Thanks…" he trailed, still staring at her as he stepped into the office and saw the door slam shut before him.
"Take a seat, Short Stack." The voice was as dry and rough as sandpaper, and when Blaine turned to see the tall, blonde woman staring daggers at him he had to work to swallow the lump in his throat. "Don't just stand there gaping at me like a demented goldfish," she said. "Take a seat."
"Yes, Ma'am," Blaine said, rushing to the chair that faced her desk.
"I want to make something very clear," she said evenly. "I haven't managed to be the most successful madam in Ohio history by being a fool, and I don't intend to earn a reputation for being one now."
"Of course not," Blaine said, shaking his head solemnly.
"Let's not be delicate about this," she began, her voice sweeter than honey but her tone a stronger sting than any bee. "You paid over a hundred thousand dollars for the first crack at cracking my Porcelain, then doubled it for the chance to see him ahead of time. That's a very serious amount for even my most long-term and established clients, and it's unheard of for a first-timer. So tell me," she said, her voice growing colder with each word. "Am I going to have an ugly conversation with Mommy and Daddy about how their son's been using their credit cards without permission?"
"Mommy's dead," Blaine said, his own voice growing hard and cold. "Daddy may as well be. That money was mine, and there's plenty more where it came from. I'm sure you're familiar with the Soriano family - the one that owns half of the commercial real estate from Lima to Westerville, and is gaining more all the time?" Sue didn't respond, but the way she tilted her head back and gave the barest of nods led him to believe she was at least familiar enough to merit continuing. "My mother was Alina Soriano before she married my father. I inherited her share of the company after she recently passed away." He swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how much his palms were sweating as he fought to stay in control and not let on just how much the mention of his parents had upset him. "I may be small in stature, but I assure you that my financial portfolio is anything but." He leaned back in his chair and did his best to affect an air of confidence. "As anyone with the kind of resources I have could tell you, the best thing about being rich is being able to have whatever you desire. I desire this boy, so I did what I needed in order to have him."
Sue's lips formed a tight smirk and she took a drink from the protein smoothie on her desk before once again giving him her attention. "It's so cute when boys like you pretend you're men. You couldn't intimidate a pork chop, and everyone knows that pork is the least hardy of meats."
Blaine blinked as his façade fell, not entirely sure how to respond. "I'm sorry, I don't-"
"Of course you don't," Sue dismissed as she took another drink of her smoothie. "I'm bored. You're dismissed. Do what you will - within the established guidelines - and we'll see you again next week. Not me, of course, but the staff. My time's too valuable to be spent searching the ground for creatures too tiny to be seen at eye level."
Blaine stared at her for a few seconds before she waved her hand toward the door and he let himself out. "Your boss is a very strange woman," he said when he returned to the leasing office and found Clo Clo waiting for him.
"Dude," Clo Clo said, shaking his head and making a sound somewhere between a whine and a laugh, "you don't know the half of it."
---
Kurt sat stiffly on the edge of his bed, elbows locked as his palms rested flat at either side. He'd been told to be ready early that evening for Coach's approval due to a last-minute appointment of hers, and he'd been left waiting for a half an hour with nothing to do as a result. He'd paced around the room for a few minutes before walking directly into a wall and shouting a few words he was pretty certain weren't usually heard outside of Satana's "torture chamber." In any case, they weren't very befitting of the image he was so clearly intended to project. So sitting it was, and Kurt was beginning to think he might have a real future in mime when he heard the click of the door, followed by the rustle of footsteps and the soft thunk as the door was locked once more.
"Hello," Kurt said quietly, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He was still so unsure of what to expect -- what to believe -- but the anticipation was all the more intoxicating because of it. Part of him wanted to swing his neck to face the direction he thought Velvet might be standing, but he forced himself to remain facing forward. He'd probably look a fool, twisting this way and that to face someone he couldn't even see.
"Hi," came Velvet's response from near the door, sounding much younger than Kurt remembered. "H-how are you?"
"Fine," Kurt answered, nodding slowly. Something felt wrong. Shaken, really. Last week, Velvet had seemed in control, if a little unsure. At the moment, he seemed almost lost.
"Good, good…" Kurt heard the sound of Velvet's footfall and the soft swish of fabric rubbing against itself, then felt the bed dip beside him as he smelled the faintly spicy scent he remembered from the week before. The bed began to shake a little, and it took a second or two for Kurt to realize that the bed was shaking because Velvet was shaking. He was still processing the fact when he felt a soft, warm pressure brush against his thigh and heard a choked gasp escape his own throat. "Sorry," Velvet was quick to apologize. "I can get up, or-"
"No," Kurt interrupted. "It's fine. Really." Everything felt strange - even stranger than expected - and all Kurt wanted was to find a way for things to make sense. As much as he could hope for in a place like this. They sat there in awkward silence for a while, and Kurt almost didn't believe it when he was the one to finally speak up and break the deafening silence. "We could dance again if you’d like."
"Yeah," came Velvet's voice beside him. "Let's do that." Kurt felt the bed rise as Velvet got to his feet and then the feel of Velvet's hand warm against his shoulder to help guide him. Velvet slid his arm around Kurt's waist and placed a hand against his spine, thumb stroking gently through the fabric of Kurt's shirt. He sighed a little as he brought his face beside Kurt's, then licked his jaw softly before whispering words of thanks into his ear. "Would you sing for me again?" Velvet asked softly after they'd shifted around the floor in one spot for a few minutes. "You have a remarkable voice. I'd love to hear more of it."
Kurt nodded wordlessly, then fought for an idea of what he could sing. He knew he should have thought of something before their meeting, should have anticipated the request, but his mind continued to draw a blank until his lips parted without a thought and the words began to come.
"Something in the way he moves attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way he woos me…"
His face grew hot, convinced that the song was all wrong, blushing furiously as the lyrics went on and he found himself incapable of changing course.
And then it happened.
Velvet slid the hand he'd placed on Kurt's shoulder down and laced their fingers together, raising them between their chests. Kurt's heart began to beat even harder, and for a split second he thought he could feel Velvet's do the same. He did his best to keep control of his voice as he felt the warmth of Velvet's breath against his hand, followed by the gentle brush of his lips as they moved across Kurt's knuckles. Kurt's voice faltered at the first "I don't know," and he wasn't sure how he managed to carry on when Velvet removed his hand from Kurt's spine and used it to help cradle the same hand he already held.
Velvet's lips slid along his fingers, kissing each one in turn as his thumbs massaged Kurt's palm and wrist. "Last week," he murmured, voice rougher than Kurt had heard it before, "I showed you how my hands could feel. Tonight…" he trailed, turning Kurt's hand over and dragging the underside of his lower lip against the thick, fleshy part of Kurt's palm; "I want to show you what we can do with yours."
Kurt's voice kept hitching and breaking through the song as sounds he'd never before heard himself make forced their way out of him as Velvet's mouth explored his hands. The gentle brushing of his lips and flat kisses with the tip of his mouth gave way to parted lips that sucked his fingers in as his tongue curled around them, tracking every crease and line of knuckle, finger, and palm, warm and wet and unlike anything Kurt had ever known.
The last line ended with a tortured mewl as Kurt felt Velvet take hold of both his wrists and slide both of Kurt's thumbs into his mouth at once, licking, tracing, probing, treating them in a way that made it very hard for Kurt to not think of how that mouth would feel on another part of his body that was currently aching like it never had before. The leather pants Kurt was wearing had been almost painfully tight when he'd put them on earlier, but now, with his cock hard and straining against them, they were nothing short of torture. Part of him was mortified by how obvious he knew it had to be. Another part was enjoying the way Velvet was making him feel too much to even care. He quit fighting the urge to subdue himself, and he felt a valve inside him release as he moaned loudly at the feel of Velvet dragging the edge of his teeth against his thumbs as he slowly pulled away and began to press the softest of kisses along Kurt's open palms.
"You have wonderful hands," Velvet murmured, his breath hot and damp against Kurt's skin. "They deserve to be worshipped just as much as the rest of you. And that," he said, bringing his face back up and just inches from Kurt's ear, "is a very great deal, indeed." There was a quaver in Velvet's voice, and Kurt could both hear and feel the need in it. The way it trembled and shook and felt so thick with want and urgency.
"In a few weeks," Kurt said very carefully, doing his best to project at least some illusion that this was all business, that he wasn't aching to touch and be touched and so, so much more. "You'll have the chance to worship however you like."
He heard Velvet's breath crack, and a low whine come from the stranger's throat as he leaned in and once again licked a hot stripe slowly and deliberately up Kurt's throat and jaw. "I meant what I told you," he rasped against Kurt's ear, "but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want that, too." Kurt took a step forward, and Velvet gave another short cry as they brushed against one another just long enough to prove that at least on one level, he meant what he was saying. "We can't," he said weakly. "The agreement…"
"Right," Kurt said, stepping away. His ear still tingled from Velvet’s breath, and even though he couldn’t see he knew their lips couldn’t be more than a few inches apart. How easy it would be to just turn his head and...
No. He couldn’t do that. His leg brushed against the edge of the bed as he took another step and lowered himself carefully. Without thinking, he lowered a hand to adjust himself, then blushed more furiously than ever as he realized that Velvet must have noticed. "The agreement has to be observed," he nodded, then forced himself to take his hand away and rest it on the bed. He felt his palm dampen the fabric, and he had to stifle another groan as he realized how wet his hands must be.
His hands. For years, Kurt had kept his hands so much to himself. No one had come right out and told him to, but the disgusted looks on so many faces once it had been clear what - or who - he was had made it clear that his was not a welcome touch by most. As jarring as the experience of having Velvet's hands on him had been the week before, the knowledge that someone wanted his hands near was much, much more so. It wasn't just claiming something bought and paid for, it was an invitation, though to what Kurt wasn't entirely sure. It felt important. It felt exciting.
More than anything, it felt like a promise.
---
The moment Blaine got into his car, he punched the steering wheel and lunged forward, covering it with his chest as he dragged his fingers through his hair and made an inarticulate sound of frustration. What was wrong with him? How had he let himself get so far off-course so fast? He'd spent weeks seeking the brothel out, only to get distracted once he'd finally found it. He was supposed to be destroying it, not giving it hundreds of thousands of dollars to become a common customer.
No.
He wasn't a common customer. His meeting with the deranged woman in the track suit had made that clear. He was worse than the common ones. They probably just perused the site, conducted their business, and went on their way. He wasn't doing that. He was taking his time, dragging it out. For reasons he couldn't even understand, he went after the one offering he could possibly want to conduct business with, when he could have saved who knew how many of the others by now. Oh, sure, he'd told himself that he was trying to save the boy from the hands of someone less scrupulous, someone more motivated by their hormones than their heads, but…wasn't he one of them, now? Hadn't he just confessed to Porcelain that he wanted him? That he intended to claim his prize?
Blaine's cock was still stiff and aching as he threw his head back in his seat and stared upwards at the dome light. He did his best to push aside the memory of Porcelain's long, pale hand as it snaked between his legs and adjusted the erection that had strained against the leather pants that made Blaine almost afraid to look they were so tight. Blaine knew as well as anyone that being hard didn't necessarily mean you wanted to be, but the way Porcelain had responded to him, the way his lips had quivered and his head had dipped and his cheeks had flushed and everything about him had seemed to reflect Blaine's own want and need…wasn't it at least possible that Porcelain wanted this, too?
The thought made him ill as he realized how far gone he was. To rationalize something like that…it was just too much.
He barely had time to wrestle the car door open before he leaned out and threw up into the street.
Part Seven
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