A/N: The sequel to Tell Me What You Want, as promised. Sorry it took so long! Also, I have no idea if there actually is a Lola's in New York. I pulled the name out of my butt.

It had been three months.

Three months since Kurt had had the best fuck of his entire life—and then the second best not ten minutes later in the shower of the posh hotel room overlooking the city.

And now…fuck, he's completely ruined. Anderson. Fucking Blaine Anderson has, quite literally, ruined him.

Kurt can't stop thinking about him. His toned arms and olive skin and hazel eyes that might as well have been made out of god damn melted gold the way they'd shone.

And the things he'd done to Kurt…

Kurt…Kurt had been fucked by plenty of guys—he'd also reversed roles for a fair few as well. But that was to be expected given his line of work. Prostitutes tend to get around better than most.

But Blaine had been the only client—no, the only person ever—to actually treat him with respect after everything was said and done. He'd invited Kurt to stay in the room with him—not even requiring him to do anything else, though they had anyway—and even let him sleep on the bed, offering to bunk on the sofa if Kurt wasn't comfortable with him sleeping there.

Kurt had waved it off, telling him not to be so sensitive about it—he had just paid Kurt for sex, for god's sake—that he didn't need to be such a gentleman. But, secretly, it had felt…good. Sometime in the night Blaine had ended up rolling over towards Kurt on the massive bed, his arm finding its way around Kurt's waist and his lips playing across the side of his neck, though he was still completely out of it.

It had been so gentle and so foreign to Kurt, being held and cared for, that he hadn't known how to react. It was strange and wonderful and then Blaine had taken him for breakfast at some fancy restaurant where he'd told the waiter off for given Kurt odd looks for his clothes and now…now Kurt was completely ruined.

He'd realized it within a week of the incident. He'd tried his best to push thoughts of Blaine aside and focus on his work instead, taking on as many clients as he could. But he started to notice that something was…missing. Each man, each pair of lips on his neck or set of hands on his ass or cock in his mouth was just…the same. It was dull. None of it excited him anymore.

And he'd been starting to suffer from it. There were times when he'd simply lie there, staring at the ceiling waiting for his client to finish fucking him, occasionally letting out a fake groan or plea for more when really he was picking apart shapes in the molding.

His clients seemed to notice that something had changed, his regulars especially. He wasn't as good as he used to or he wasn't trying hard enough or begging loud enough or fucking rough enough. It was wearing on him.

He'd never exactly wanted this life. It had just sort of…happened. One night when a friend of a roommate had wandered into Kurt's otherwise drunk dorm, completely drunk, and offered him twenty bucks for a blowjob and Kurt was so low on cash he hadn't eaten anything other than what he'd managed to bum off his friends for two days, he'd taken the money readily, sucked the guy's cock, and then eaten so much he thought he'd throw up.

But it had been then, when he realized that sex equaled money which equaled a full belly and something to help feed his shopping addiction, that it had really started. He'd actually had a sort of cycle going. And soon he wasn't just 'servicing' other students, he was getting clients off-campus, too. Even one of the Civics Professors had approached him in the library one Saturday evening, looking shifty and thrusting a wad of cash under Kurt's nose.

By the time he graduated college, he'd saved up over three grand and had a sizeable chunk of his student loans paid off.

Thinking he'd easily find a job in New York of all places, he'd packed up and found himself a tiny one-bedroom studio and set to work trying to find a job. It wasn't easy. There was nothing, nothing for him. He'd spent four years earning himself a degree in Fashion Design and the best he could find was a job as an assistant at a Laundromat.

But there was no way that would pay the bills, so he'd been forced to turn back to what he'd thought was his old life. And now, two years later, he was still at it.

He'd never really thought about stopping once he'd realized just how good the money was. He'd paid off almost all his student loans and had himself a nice, roomy, one-bedroom apartment in a relatively decent neighborhood. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than trying to live off Ramen noodles and potato chips.

Now his mind was stubbornly stuck on this man he'd met three months ago. He could barely remember his clients from a week ago, much less three months. He tried to convince himself it was just his brain twisted the unusual affection Blaine had given him. Because he wasn't about to admit he hadn't liked it. He had.

There had been a time where he'd hoped to find something like love, to settle down with someone who would hold him and whisper in his ear and tell him he was beautiful without leaving him twenty minutes later, alone and sweaty and reeking of anonymous sex. He'd wanted more at one point. But he'd more or less given up on it happening.

So then, when he was actually treated with some semblance of compassion and respect, it was no surprise that his stomach had tied in knots when Blaine had scribbled his phone number on a napkin after they'd finished their breakfast that morning three months ago.

But Kurt couldn't call him. That would be ridiculous. Talking with a client, letting himself get close when he knew he'd have to return to his routine of fucking and being fucked and…it simply wasn't an option he could consider.

He hadn't been able to throw Blaine's number away, though. The old napkin was still hanging on his refrigerator, held up by an worn magnet, the words and numbers and tiny smiley face Blaine had drawn fading with time.

There were times when he'd pause and look at the numbers, fingers twitching towards his phone. He'd dialed the number once, staring at his screen with his thumb hovering over the 'call' button for a full five minutes before he erased the number and tossed his phone away on the counter with a sigh.

He felt like he was losing his mind. He needed to get Blaine Anderson out of his head before he screwed himself over completely.

One Tuesday afternoon when he was getting fucked against the wall by one of his regular clients—a businessman who met with Kurt once every week during his lunch break, fucked him, and left with barely a word—Kurt was trying his best to sound enthusiastic, when he was actually bored to tears. It was lucky he was up against the wall or the other man would have seen just how disinterested he was.

The man came into the condom he was wearing with a low grunt and Kurt stifled a "thank god" with difficulty. He winced when his client pulled out and backed away from him.

"Thanks, babe, that was great," Kurt said, plastering a fake grin on his face as he turned around, sure to quickly yank his tight jeans back up to hide his obvious lack of erection. "Same time next week?"

His client grunted a little in agreement as he tossed the used condom away and tugged his clothes back on. Kurt watched him absently, checking that the bills he'd collected when they met up were still in his front pocket.

The other man left the tiny hotel room without a word and Kurt sighed as he moved to pull on his shirt and shoes, slipping his sleeves through his coat before stepping out into the dimly lit hall.

His stomach growled loudly and he realized he hadn't eaten lunch yet as he stepped out into the chilly fall air. Shivering a little, he tightened his long coat around him and set off down the sidewalk, glad he was close to one of his favorite cafés.

His boots clacked off the concrete, his breath rising in front of him in the cool October air. The sun shone weakly through the clouds. He checked the street, darting across and waving to a taxi when it honked at him.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he breathed deep the city air, closing his eyes briefly as he passed random strangers, listening to the sounds of the city moving around him. This was what he loved, the bustle of the crowd and rush of the world coming alive like this. He might not have exactly the life he wanted, but he was in New York, he'd made it that far, at least.

"Kurt?"

Kurt froze, eyes snapping open at the sound of his name.

He'd heard that voice say it, fucking growl it before.

He swallowed nervously and turned slowly to look at the man he'd just walked past. There was a faintly confused and curious look on his face. He was slightly scruffy, as if he had forgotten to shave the day before and decided not to today as well. Kurt wasn't about to deny that he looked possibly even sexier with it than without it. And, fuck, he was wearing glasses and a wool cap and scarf in addition to his dark peacoat.

He looked positively fuckable.

"Hi," Kurt squeaked. Smooth, Kurt, you fucking idiot, you don't see him for three months and all you can think of is 'hi'?

He forced a tight smile even as he was mentally slapping himself as Blaine turned and walked towards him, still wearing his curious look. There was a paper bag clutched in his hand with the logo of the café Kurt had been planning on going to.

"Hey," Blaine said as he stopped in front of him, smiling warmly, his hazel eyes lighting up behind his glasses.

"What's up?" Kurt said lamely.

Blaine laughed. "Not much," he said. "What about you?"

Oh, nothing, I've just been fucked against a wall by a man I barely know. Happens every week. And I haven't been able to get hard for half my customers because I'm too busy thinking about you and debating if I should call you and, dammit, you look good.

"Same old thing," Kurt said in a falsely cheery voice.

"Oh," Blaine said, his face fell very slightly.

Kurt winced a little at the fact that Blaine had obviously realized he was still fucking people for a living.

"Are you…busy?" Blaine said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Oh," Kurt said, blushing a little as he realized what he was asking. "N-no…no I just, um, finished." He hated how awful it must sound to Blaine, who simply nodded at his words, eyes flicking to Kurt's still-tousled hair and slightly flushed cheeks.

"Would you like some lunch?" Blaine said, sounding hopeful as he held up his bag. "I always have extra if…if you're interested."

No, Kurt. Don't say yes, you idiot, this is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Just tell him you're busy and walk away. Just do it, Kurt.

"Um, sure," Kurt said. Dammit. "I was actually just about to head there to grab something."

"Oh you like Lola's?" Blaine said, smiling.

"I practically live of their food," Kurt said with a sigh. "I eat there all the time."

A little color drained from Blaine's face. "Really?" he said quietly.

Kurt nodded, frowning. "Why?"

"I have lunch there every day," Blaine said. "Have for nearly six months."

Kurt stared at him. Was it really possible that they'd been eating at the same café since even before they'd met and never encountered each other? Perhaps Kurt had seen him there at one point and not even realized it. And now they'd been missing each other for three months, maybe be a matter of minutes like this incident would have been had Kurt not crossed the street earlier than usual.

"That's crazy," Blaine muttered, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Kurt breathed, nodding.

"So," Blaine said, obviously trying to push away the sudden realization. He held up his bag again. "Lunch?"

Now's your chance. Just tell him no.

Kurt smiled. "Sure," he said with a shrug. God dammit! "Why not?" Because you can't let yourself fall for him, that's why not, you moron.

"We can eat in my office," Blaine said, setting off and gesturing for Kurt to follow.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, enjoying the cool, crisp air as they delved further into the heart of the city, where the buildings rose higher and higher above them.

"Why Lola's?" Kurt said when they'd just walked their fourth block, passing at least half a dozen other restaurants along the way.

Blaine shrugged. "I went there awhile back with some friends and just fell in love with the place," he said, smiling faintly. "It's so quaint and homey. And their coffee is to die for."

Kurt laughed lightly.

Blaine stopped at one of the tall office buildings, nodding to the doorman as he held open the gleaming glass door for them with a smile and a "Good day, Mr. Anderson."

"You work here?" Kurt said, gaping up at the high ceiling decorated with delicate molding and a crystal chandelier.

Blaine made a face. "Yeah," he said, sighing. "Not really my dream job but…helps keep the trust fund full, if you know what I mean."

Kurt didn't answer, simply gazing around the gorgeous entry as they made their way across to the elevators, which opened almost immediately when Blaine pushed the 'Up' button.

Kurt was glad he was dressed in something a lot more presentable than when he'd met Blaine. Dark skinny jeans and a pale green sweater with knee-high boots and his long coat. He thought he probably still smelled like sex though. He wondered if Blaine had noticed.

Kurt tried not to look at Blaine as they rode up, random music playing from the speakers, but he couldn't help his eyes from flickering over to him every few seconds. He looked incredible. He glanced over at Kurt at one point and smiled, sending Kurt's stomach into some elaborate aerobatic routine in his gut. Kurt quickly looked away.

Pull yourself together, Kurt. You're just having lunch with a client you met three months ago. No big deal. Just eat and leave. Eat and Leave. Stop looking at him, dammit!

They stopped at the twelfth floor, the elevator dinging as the doors opened to a small entry. The lady behind the desk opposite them looked up at the sound of their shoes on the tile. She eyed Kurt with a mild look of interest but didn't say anything.

Blaine flashed Kurt a grin before stepping from the entry into the carpeted hallway, which was lined with expensive artwork. Occasionally someone passed them, men and women dressed in high end suits and clutching slips of paper or thick files.

"So…what exactly do you do?" Kurt said, glancing around at the doors they were passing. He remembered Blaine had briefly mentioned that he was an attorney during their last meeting but Kurt had never been all that interested in that sort of thing.

"Like I said…last time, I'm an attorney," Blaine said, glancing over at him. "I mostly deal with business litigation, that sort of thing."

Kurt gave him a blank look.

"Basically," Blaine said, grinning, "When someone wants to sue a business, for whatever reason, wrongful discharge, false advertising, personal injury, stuff like that, they come to me. Sometimes I'll take other cases but that's what I usually work on." He stopped a door towards the end of the hall bearing a placard that read 'B.', pausing with his fingers on the handle. "You ever hear about the guy who sued Pritcher's a year or so back because he found a rat bone in his soup?"

Kurt nodded. The incident had been all over the local news. He remembered immediately going to his pantry and throwing out every can he had with the company's logo on it. He'd heard the man had settled out of court for quite a lot of money.

"Yeah," Blaine said as he pushed the door open. "I'm the one who got him his three hundred grand."

Kurt's eyebrows rose up his forehead as he followed Blaine into the tidy office. It was carpeted like the hallway, with dark paneling on the lower half of the cream-colored walls. A large desk wrapped around one wall, a massive computer monitor sitting to one side and files stacked neatly on the other. A plush leather couch sat in the middle of the room, two armchairs opposite it with a dark coffee table between them. The wall directly across from the door was lined with windows. The view of the city was spectacular and Kurt found himself walking over to look out across it without even realizing he was doing it.

"Wow," he said, laying a gloved hand on the glass.

"Good view, huh?" Blaine said. Kurt could hear him pulling off his jacket behind him but continued to stare down at the traffic below. He'd always wanted a view like this but had come to accept he'd never be able to afford it. He could only imagine how much Blaine made working in a place like this.

"Come and eat before it gets cold," Blaine said.

Kurt turned and fought back a whimper at the site of the other man. He was wearing a slate grey suit—which Kurt immediately recognized as Armani—over a crisp white shirt, also Armani, and a thin, dark blue tie. His dark, curly hair was a little rumpled from his hat, but it somehow made him even more appealing.

"Are you okay?" Blaine said, cocking an eyebrow after Kurt had simply stood there gaping at him for thirty seconds.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, f-fine," Kurt muttered, hurrying to shed his own coat and gloves before sitting down on the couch, scolding himself as Blaine moved towards his desk, bending over to open the drinks fridge set under the shelves. Why on earth was he letting himself get so flustered? He never got embarrassed or nervous like this. He had sex for a living, dammit, eating lunch with someone, however attractive they may be, should not turn him into a stuttering teenager.

"Pellegrino okay?" Blaine said, glancing over his shoulder at Kurt as he held up two green glass bottles.

Kurt nodded, crossing his legs primly and sitting straight. The least he could do was actually act polite even if the urge to tear that very expensive suit off Blaine's back was very tempting.

"Thank you," he said when Blaine took the cap off one of the bottles and passed it to him, setting the other down on a napkin as he sat down next to Kurt, a foot or two of space between them as Blaine unwrapped his sandwich, the smell of grilled bread and vegetables hitting Kurt's nostrils and making his mouth water.

"Hope you like mushrooms," Blaine said, smiling as he wrapped half the Panini in a napkin and passed it to Kurt.

"Thanks," Kurt said, forcing a small smile as he accepted the sandwich, Blaine spreading a napkin across his own lap before unscrewing the cap of his water and taking a sip. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed slowly and swallowed before turning to Kurt.

"So," he said, wiping his hands on a napkin, "care to tell me why you never called?"

Kurt tried to look away but it was like his eyes were glued to Blaine's. He opened his mouth, closed it, and sigh. "I…I couldn't," he said meekly.

Blaine took another bite, nodding as he chewed. "Okay," he said, swallowing. "Why?"

"Because," Kurt said, setting down his food on the table. "Because I'm a…" He didn't even want to say it out loud. He'd never been so humiliated by what he did for a living. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, silently judging him.

"Kurt," Blaine said, setting his own food down. "You realize I didn't have to give you my number right? I was fully aware of what you did. Obviously I was. You seemed like a nice guy. That's why I gave you my number. I wanted to see you again. Outside of your…work. I can understand if you just didn't want to talk to me or weren't interested but given you agreed to this-"he gestured to their food. "-I don't think that's the case, is it?"

Kurt stared down at his lap and shook his head.

"So why didn't you ever call me?" Blaine said, leaning back against the arm of the couch as he surveyed him.

"I was…ashamed," Kurt said in a small voice.

"Ashamed of what?" Blaine said. "Of the fact that people pay you for sex? That you're a prostitute?"

Kurt winced at the word and looked away as his eyes started to sting. How was it that Blaine could say just a few words, give him a certain look and make him feel so bad about himself?

"Is that it then?" Blaine said. "You were ashamed of your job? You didn't seem to ashamed of it when you were begging me to fuck you."

Kurt rounded on him, anger suddenly bubbling up in his gut. What right did he have to judge him for what he did? He barely knew him.

But Blaine simply smiled gently. "That got your attention," he said. He sighed and shifted in his seat. "You know, I don't think it's your job you're ashamed of, Kurt. I think you're ashamed because you wanted to call me, you wanted to spend time with me. I'm guessing you don't meet any of your other…customers outside of 'work', do you?"

Kurt shook his head. He'd always kept his two lives strictly separate. None of his friends or family knew what he did. It was exhausting sometimes trying to hide it from them all.

"So am I right?" Blaine said, taking another sip of his water. "You were afraid to actually let yourself get close to someone you met through work?"

Kurt chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before nodding. The fact that Blaine was able to read him so well was both intriguing and terrifying all at once.

"Why are you so scared to let someone in?" Blaine said.

Kurt looked over at him. His head was tilted to the side, water clutched loosely in his hand and his hazel eyes digging into Kurt's blue ones.

"It's so…cliché," Kurt muttered, shaking his head. He half-laughed. "A prostitute and a wealthy attorney. It's ridiculous."

"It is cliché," Blaine said. He shrugged. "But it's not ridiculous. It's not like I'm saying we're going to fall in love and live happily ever after, I'm just saying I wanted to get to know you better. Just because it's cliché doesn't mean it's impossible. Besides, I hate my job. If I quit and became a scruffy musician, would that make it less cliché?"

Kurt laughed lightly at this and Blaine grinned.

"So if I gave you my number again, would you actually call me?" Blaine said, quirking an eyebrow as he set his water down.

Kurt smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I guess it couldn't hurt anything." He did like Blaine. He'd seemed like fun in the time they'd spent talking over breakfast that morning three months ago. There couldn't really be any harm in just talking to him, maybe going on a date with him, or having more incredible sex. Especially that last bit.

"Promise?" Blaine said with a dubious look.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said. "I promise."

Blaine grinned and stood up. "Alright then," he said, moving towards his desk. He plucked a business card from the holder and passed it to Kurt, who turned it over in his fingers.

He recognized the number, he'd practically memorized it by now, though he wasn't about to tell Blaine that he still had that old napkin. Kurt smiled and slipped the card into his coat pocket.

"Eat up," Blaine said, nodding to Kurt's untouched food as he sat back down, smoothing out his suit.

"Actually," Kurt said, turning to him with a small smirk. "I was thinking we could do other things. You know…jog my memory so I'm encouraged to call you back?"

"What, my scintillating conversation isn't enough of a draw?" Blaine said with a grin.

Kurt laughed, moving across the couch towards him. Blaine sat back against the armrest, a look of eager anticipation on his face. Kurt crawled forward, straddling Blaine's lap and sitting up on his knees so he was looking down at Blaine, who wrapped one arm around Kurt's waist and pulled him closer before burying his face in Kurt's chest and inhaling deeply.

"You smell like sex," Blaine muttered, resting his chin on Kurt's chest and fixing him with a heavy look. His eyes darkened. "It's hot."

Kurt grinned, tugging at the hem of his sweater and pulling it over his head. He groaned as Blaine immediately started kissing across the pale skin of his chest, flicking his tongue over one of Kurt's nipples.

Kurt arched into the touch, biting his lip and closing his eyes as Blaine sucked and lapped at the spot before moving to do the same to Kurt's other nipple, his hands sliding down to squeeze Kurt's ass through his jeans.

"Fuck," Kurt whined, throwing his back and draping arms around Blaine's shoulders, his fingernails digging into his suit coat. "You're clothes are going to be so wrinkled."

Blaine laughed at this. "You're probably right," he said, pushing lightly on Kurt so he slid off his lap onto the cushion. "I should lock the door, too. Hold on."

He stood and Kurt was pleased to see the obvious bulge in his slacks. Kurt hurried to untie his boots as Blaine moved to lock the door before going to his desk.

He pressed a button on his phone. "Gina, hold my calls for the next hour, okay?" he said.

"Yes, Mr. Anderson," a voice said through the line.

Blaine smiled and slipped off his jacket, laying it over the back of his chair before toeing off his shiny black shoes.

"An hour?" Kurt said, grinning as he pulled off his boots and socks before standing to take off his jeans. "Someone's ambitious."

Blaine chuckled and tugged at the knot on his tie. "I aim to please," he said, tossing his tie on top of his jacket and going to work at the buttons on his shirt.

Kurt stepped out of his jeans and moved towards him, smirking. "Well you certainly did a good job last time," he said, pushing Blaine's hands aside so he could unbutton his shirt instead. He licked his lips at the sight of Blaine's faintly toned chest visible beneath his tight undershirt.

Blaine shrugged to help Kurt push the shirt off his shoulders, Kurt bending over to pick it up and toss if with the rest of Blaine's discarded clothes. Rather than standing back up, Kurt stayed on his knees and undid the button and zipper on Blaine's slacks. He yanked the fabric down, feeling a rush of desire go through him when he saw the bulging front of Blaine's dark boxer briefs.

Blaine sighed at the removal of the pressure of his slacks, stepping out of them when Kurt had them pooled around his ankles. Kurt pushed himself back up, laying the pants over the arm of Blaine's chair before taking a moment to simply admire him, his tanned skin and lean muscles, the smattering of dark hair visible at the cutoff of the collar of his undershirt.

"Condom?" Kurt said a little breathlessly, throat suddenly dry.

"Back pocket, in my wallet," Blaine said, nodding to his slacks.

Kurt dug his wallet out, flipping through it until he found the foil wrapper stuck between two fifties in the pocket. He tried to ignore the half a dozen shiny platinum cards and what must have been at least four hundred in cash and tossed the wallet back on the desk before ripping the condom open.

He paused, condom in one hand and the fingers of the others on the waistband of Blaine's briefs.

"What if someone sees?" Kurt said, glancing through the wide window.

"Huh?" Blaine said, voice a little constricted. "Oh…right." He groped across the desk and flicked a switch on the wall. There was a low, mechanical whir and dark blinds lowered from the ceiling to cover the glass, lights automatically flicking on overhead.

Kurt pursed his lips a little. "Huh," he said, pausing as the blinds reached the carpet. "I'm impressed."

"There's an awful glare in the mornings," Blaine explained.

"I'm not complaining," Kurt said, returning to what he was doing and peeling Blaine's briefs down to free his erection. Blaine hissed at the chill air hitting his cock, the sound changing into a low groan as Kurt wrapped his fingers around him and pumped gently.

Kurt stroked him a few more times before pulling his hand away so he could roll the condom on, squeezing at the base of Blaine's cock as he pressed open-mouthed kisses across his shoulder.

"Dammit," Blaine groaned, closing his eyes as Kurt slipped his fingers down Blaine's briefs to brush over his balls and press at his perineum.

Blaine jerked his hips forward at the touch, his hands slipping down Kurt's back and down his briefs to squeeze his ass. "Do you have any lube?" he muttered, opening his eyes to look at Kurt.

"In my coat," Kurt said, running his hands down Blaine's chest and stomach, feeling the muscles tense up at his touch. He nipped Blaine's collarbone before pulling back and moving towards where his coat was draped across the couch. He fumbled in his pocket for the bottle of lube he'd used barely an hour before with his client. He didn't think he'd need much given he was still stretched from before, but better safe than sorry.

He barely pulled the little bottle free when Blaine was gripping his hips from behind, yanking down his briefs and pushing him against the couch, bending him forward over the arm and taking the lube from his hand.

Kurt shivered with anticipation when he heard Blaine pop the lip open and squeeze some of the lube onto his fingers. His own cock was pressed against the chill leather, hard as a rock for the first time in weeks and leaking pre-come against his stomach.

He heard Blaine toss the bottle aside and rub the lube between his fingers to warm it. He gasped and groaned as Blaine's fingertips brushed over his entrance, gently massaging the ring of muscle before pressing two fingers in at once, scissoring and twisting them carefully.

Kurt whimpered and mewled, clawing at the couch to try and find some hold for his hands in the slick leather. He pushed back against Blaine's fingers, silently begging for more. Blaine complied, shoving a third finger in with the others and pumping them rapidly in and out, occasionally earning a shout of pleasure when he hit Kurt's prostate.

"Christ, Blaine, just fuck me already," Kurt groaned, his cock painfully hard under him.

Blaine chuckled and pulled his fingers free suddenly, Kurt whining at the sudden feeling of being empty. He didn't have to wait long, though, before Blaine gripped his waist with one hand and pushed the head of his cock against Kurt's entrance.

Kurt let out a low moan that slowly turned into a gasping whine as Blaine pushed into him, swearing softly behind Kurt.

"How the fuck are you still do damn tight?" Blaine groaned, hips flush against Kurt's ass and fingers digging into his waist.

"Just move," Kurt pleaded, pushing back against him and crying out when the movement forced Blaine against his prostate.

Blaine immediately pulled back a few inches before pushing back into him, hard. Kurt let out a shout of pleasure, fingernails scratching across the leather. Blaine repeated the movement until he'd picked up a steady pace, pounding Kurt into the arm of the couch, the leather creating a slightly rough but wonderful friction against Kurt's cock.

"Fuck, yes," Kurt groaned. "God, Blaine, fuck, harder."

Blaine grunted with exertion, slamming his hips forward so hard Kurt was sure they'd both have bruises. But he loved it.

Blaine slid one hand up to tweak Kurt's nipple, bending forward and kissing across his back, still driving into him with bruising force. His chin rubbed against Kurt's back, the scruffy hair scratching across his skin.

Kurt struggled not to make too much noise, occasionally biting down on his fist or burying his face in the cushion to muffle a scream of pleasure.

"God, you're so fucking hot," Blaine growled, hips snapping forward. "You're skin is just, fuck, and your ass is incredible. I could fuck you all day long."

Kurt wanted to say that he wouldn't protest the idea but his mind had stopped forming coherent thoughts at this point. He was gasping and writhing beneath Blaine, trying to decide between pushing back against Blaine and rutting against the couch, which was now slick with his own sweat and pre-come, to try and gain his own friction.

"You love it, don't you?" Blaine grunted, thrusting so roughly the couch actually moved. "Did you miss it, Kurt? Did you miss me fucking you?"

"God yes," Kurt groaned. "So good."

"You should have called me," Blaine said, biting Kurt's shoulder. "I could be fucking you like this every night."

Kurt whimpered at the thought. He didn't know if he'd ever think straight again if Blaine did this to him on a regular basis.

He was so close, the tingling at the base of his spine building along with the heat in his gut to the point where he was sure he was going to simply boil over.

Blaine moaned against his shoulder, fingers gliding up and down his chest and sides. His hips jerked forward, less timed and Kurt knew his own orgasm was building inside him.

"Fuck," Blaine groaned, suddenly biting hard into Kurt's shoulder as he pushed deep into him a final time, shaking and dragging his nails across Kurt's chest as he came into the condom. He reached around Kurt, lifting him a little from the couch to grab his cock and pump rapidly.

It didn't take more than a few jerks before Kurt was coming so hard across Blaine's fingers and the couch that he got lost in the moment and shouted Blaine's name so loud he'd be surprised if the entire building didn't hear it.

Blaine didn't seemed to care though, too busy panting as he came down from his own high, the fabric of his shirt a little rough against Kurt's sweaty back.

"Holy fuck," Kurt whimpered, falling forward against the couch and hissing in pain as the movement pulled him off Blaine.

"No shit," Blaine groaned, collapsing against the couch beside him, one arm draped across Kurt's waist. "That was…you're…fuck."

Kurt moaned faintly in agreement, closing his eyes as he attempted to catch his breath.

They stayed there for a minute or two until Blaine straightened up to toss the condom in the trash. Kurt didn't move from his position, body spent and limp and oh so satisfied.

Blaine returned with a bottle of water and a silk handkerchief, which he wet before setting the water down on the table. "Turn over," he said, voice surprisingly gentle.

Kurt rolled over on the arm of the couch, feeling completely sated and calm, his body stretched back across the couch. He didn't even care that he was smeared in his own come at this point.

Blaine had pulled his briefs back up. His undershirt was darkened with sweat and the fringe of his hair was damp. He smiled faintly as he started wiping Kurt clean, occasionally bending over to kiss his stomach.

"Up," he said softly.

Kurt obeyed, wobbling a little as he stood, suddenly feeling light-headed. He remembered he still hadn't eaten and sat down hard in one of the armchairs, shivering a little at his low blood sugar.

Blaine seemed to catch the movement. "Eat," he said, nodding to the food on the table. "All of it. I can get something downstairs."

Kurt leaned forward to pluck up the sandwich, eating as he watched Blaine wipe the couch clean before simply tossing the handkerchief in the trash.

He pulled off his undershirt, using it to wipe away the sweat before splashing a little water on his face and redressing himself.

"Sorry," Kurt muttered when he saw how wrinkled his suit was.

Blaine shrugged. "I was leaving early anyway," he said, adjusting his tie. "I've got to fly to Boston tonight for a client."

"Boston's nice," Kurt said. He'd been there a few times with friends, though they'd always driven, crammed in a car together and taking a collection for gas money. It started to hit him just how rich Blaine must really be. "Why me?" he blurted out.

"What?" Blaine said, looking up from tying his shoes.

"Why…why me?" Kurt repeated, suddenly feeling extremely exposed not wearing anything while Blaine was standing there in a suit that Kurt would probably have to spend a month's earnings on.

Blaine leaned against his desk, shrugging. "I told you," he said, smiling. "You seemed nice. It's not like I usually meet my dates that way but it seemed stupid to pass up the opportunity to ask you out just because of the circumstances."

Kurt nodded slowly. He still didn't know what to think of the situation, but he was willing to at least try it. What would a few dates do? It couldn't exactly hurt.

"I should probably head out," he said, standing and smiling to reassure Blaine that he wasn't upset.

"Alright," Blaine said, looking mildly disappointed, though he didn't argue.

Kurt gathered up his clothes and dressed quickly, checking his jeans for his money from earlier. He frowned as he turned, looking for his coat. "Have you seen—oh, thanks," he said, accepting his coat from Blaine. He slipped it on, buttoning it up and slipping on his gloves.

They looked at each other for a moment, Kurt suddenly feeling awkward. How should he say goodbye to the first person he'd had sex with without being paid for it in nearly a year?

He was saved the trouble of trying to figure it out when Blaine moved towards him and pulled him into a kiss, his lips moving softly against Kurt's. He combed his fingers through Kurt's hair, brushing over his ear as he pulled back, smiling.

"I should go," Kurt said, returning his smile.

"Okay," Blaine said, withdrawing his hand and giving Kurt's arm a brief squeeze.

Kurt back away, glancing back at him at the door. "Bye," he said, his stomach squirming at Blaine's smile. He unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway, thankful that it was empty. He walked towards the entry, humming randomly.

"Kurt!"

He stopped and turned back to see Blaine peering around his office door at him.

"Yes?" Kurt said.

"You'll call me this time, right?" Blaine said.

Kurt laughed. "Yes," he said.

"You have my number?" Blaine said with a faintly suspicious look.

Kurt patted his coat pocket. "Right here," he said. "I'll call you. Soon."

Blaine grinned and winked before pulling back into his office, the door shutting behind him.

Shaking his head, Kurt continued down the hall to the elevators, ignoring the curious look the young woman behind the desk gave in as he pressed the 'Down' button. The doors opened with a ding and he stepped inside.

He shoved his hand in his coat pocket to double-check that Blaine's card was in face there—though he didn't really need it—and frowned when he encountered something hard alongside it.

His eyes widened as he pulled out a shiny platinum AmEx card with Blaine's name across it. It was paperclipped to a piece of paper, on which Blaine had hastily scrawled a note.

Now you have to call me.

This isn't for the sex. Just…buy yourself something...nice. I'm calling the card company so you can use it. I can tell you like clothes. I personally like Bergdorf's but feel free to go wherever. I'll be in Boston for a week. I'm staying at the Four Seasons in case, you know, you want to stop by.

Kurt laughed, shaking his head as he slipped the card and note back into his pocket, the elevator dinging faintly as the doors opened onto the lobby. He sighed, unable to keep the smile off his face as he stepped across the room and out through the glass doors into the crisp October air.