A/N: OH MY GOD IT'S SO LONG! (That's what she said.) Also, it's disjointed, because it was written over about 5 months, while I got a new laptop and graduated from high school and moved into a new apartment. So, ha, real excuses this time! But, hey, we get COCK IN ASS in this chapter. Yes, that's right. ACTUAL FUCKING. Cue the Hallelujah chorus.

Um, so, first off, ignore my Blaine. No, seriously, please do. I was kind of going for fun and then he took a left turn at weird, and then I lost him in the jungles of insanity. Apparently I can write angsty!Blaine, but actual!Blaine escapes me. So, yes, let's pretend he just kind of lost his mind, mmhmm?

Second, this is sort of future-y, but I'm not much into typing in backstories, so pretend whatever you wanted to happen, happened. All that matters now is that Puck and Kurt are dating and living together, Kurt is a fashion intern (no, I don't know if that actually exists), and ... I think they live in New York. And they're still being all hot and kinky. Yay!

Third, warnings: um, anal, but knowing my reviewers I think that's less of a warning and more of an advertisement; semi-public; the usual slashy-BDSM stuff that you all came here to see. That should be it...

So, you know, enjoy, and, uh, if I think of anything else, I'll let you know. Kay? Kay.


Kurt was pissed at just about everything. He was pissed at that barista at Starbucks who got him a full-fat mocha with no whip instead of a non-fat mocha with extra whip, and the transmission on his car, and the new intern who had misspelled "Burberry", and the cabbie who splashed his new outfit, and Noah Puckerman. Especially Noah Puckerman. Oh, God was he pissed at Puck.

The day had started out so good, too. He'd woken up to Noah's mouth on his neck and a strong hand stroking him up and - oh, fuck - down. He'd somehow managed to stutter out a "M-morning?" against the overwhelming urge to moan.

"Morning, babe," Noah had mumbled against his skin (and damn, but those vibrations felt good). "Sleep well?"

Kurt had shifted and felt the dull ache in his ass. "Well enough. You're - mm, do that again - you're in a mood today."

Puck had chuckled. "I feel like playing today. Can you blame me, though, when I wake up and see all this in front of me?" He gestured down the length of Kurt's body, at the finger-shaped bruises on his hips and the hickeys scattered across his torso.

"Well, I a-am pretty sexy, if I do say so myself."

The grip on his penis had tightened. "Mmhmm. And all mine. Isn't that right, babe?"

"Yes, sir," Kurt had finally allowed himself to moan. "I'm all yours, Master."

"Mm, good boy."

Yes, the day had started out really well in that bed. And the shower ... and the kitchen counter ... and the foyer.

But then everything got shot to hell, with the coffee and the car breaking down and the problems at work. Kurt had been stressed beyond belief and so he called up Blaine for a long venting session over lunch. Blaine agreed, suggested a few places. Kurt picked one and e-mailed Noah to let him know where he'd be. And then Noah had replied.

hey babe,

lunch with blaine, huh? that sounds fine, just as long as you're willing to do something for me. that big red vibe should still be in your desk drawer from last week. I want you to go put it in and keep the remote with you. keep your phone on and i'll let you know what to put it at. remember the rules though, baby. you don't get to cum unless i say so. if you're a good boy for me, i might even reward you.

have fun with blaine at lunch and I'll see you tonight. let me know if you want chinese or whatever and i'll pick it up.

love ya babe ;)


Was Puck insane? Kurt wasn't exactly, um, quiet when it came to sex, and Blaine wasn't an idiot. It would be absolutely mortifying if Blaine managed to find out what was going on. He couldn't do it, he just couldn't.

But if he didn't ... was he willing to risk Puck's punishment if he didn't? The last time he'd denied Noah something, he'd gone three weeks without being touched. No handjobs, no sex, and definitely no orgasms. It had been hell. There was no way he could willingly put himself through that again.

Oh, God, there was really only one choice, wasn't there?

The men's restroom was wonderfully empty when Kurt got there. He rushed into a stall, slung his satchel (not a purse!) over the hook, and took several deep breaths. His pants seemed to make a horrendous amount of noise as he slipped them off, and had the lube bottle always been that loud to open? He squeezed some slick onto his fingers and rubbed them together to warm it. And then he reached behind himself and –



Oh, that felt good. Another finger was - Jesus, that was even better and he started to scissor them and really, why had he thought that this was so bad in the first place? This was obviously the best thing ever and he should be doing it all the time –

It took almost all of his willpower to pull his fingers away and grab the plug from the top of the tank. Right then. On three. One. Two. Thr –

Sweet mother of Gaga that plug was big! Really, really big. And pressed right against his prostate in the most delicious way possible. He stifled a moan because he was in a public bathroom for God's sake, and pulled out his phone. As he leaned against the wall, he texted Puck. It's in.

The reply was almost instantaneous. Pics. Kurt flushed an extraordinary shade of red, but quckly snapped a few. When he sent them, another message came back. wat, no rguing? slut.

Kurt took a deep breath through his nose. "Not the time or place," he muttered to himself. No, no matter how much he wanted to sext Puck or drive over to the gym where his boyfriend worked, drop to his knees, and beg to be fucked, he wouldn't.

He zipped his pants up, washed his hands, and then took a minute or two to think of dead kittens and his seventy-year old boss in a jockstrap so he wasn't broadcasting his horniness to the office. Not that it did much good, since all his hard worked was wiped out by one short walk back to his desk. That was strange … hadn't he left himself logged on to his computer? And he was sure that his pencils had not been arranged into a lightning bolt.

Suddenly, hands clasped over his eyes. He almost screamed, until a familiar voice sing-songed into his ear, "Guess who-oo?" He started to answer, but was cut off. "Ooh, no, wait, you need hints! Okay, um, hint number one: I'm your best friend."

"Artie?" Kurt mock-gasped.

"No!" the voice protested and the hands pulled off of his eyes to slap him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Kurt yelped. "Jesus, Blaine, do you have to hit so hard?"

The shorter man stuck out his tongue. "Do you have to be such a jerk?"

"Really, Blaine? 'Jerk'? Are you twelve?"

"Twenty-three, thank you very much."

"Your height notwithstanding - "


" – The fact that you're playing 'Guess Who?' and rearranging my pens seems to speak otherwise."

Blaine gestured at the pens. "But … it's a lightning bolt. Come on, man! Lightning is cool!"

Finally, Kurt allowed himself to laugh. "Okay, yes, Blaine. Lightning is very cool."

"Told you so! Hey, speaking of lightning, are you still on that weird 'I-only-eat-radishes-and-the-stomachs-of-small-goats' diet?"

"Am I still on the – what? I don't even know how to respond to that."

"I'll take that as a 'no.' Ooh, hey, did you see that new movie with the robots? You know, the one where that possum-looking thing starts going all kung-fu on the bad guy's ass."

Kurt was starting to remember why he had called up Blaine for lunch. Everyone knew the perfect remedy for stress was fun and he couldn't think of anyone more, um, "fun" than Blaine. Honestly, what other person did he know that meowed on the elevator? Or bowed as they got off and thanked everyone for their "wonderfully delightful company"? Kurt loved Blaine (as a friend), of course, but honestly the guy was sometimes just baffling.

It was almost a relief to get to Blaine's car and start singing along to the radio. And then Kurt was quickly reminded that his parking lot had speed bumps when Blaine drove over one and the plug inside him rubbed against his prostate and he fucking squeaked. Blaine looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"You okay there, buddy?"

"Yeah!" Kurt assured, and then cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, fine. Perfect. Just a little – oh, God, you drive fast, don't you? – just a little excited for today." Sure, excited. That was one word for it.

Blaine shrugged and slowed down a bit, but that just made the climb and drop that much longer. Kurt awkwardly shifted his bag to cover his growing arousal. There was no way he was going to be able to last this whole day like this. Fuck, he wasn't sure he could last the whole drive like this. Not with hard plastic putting delicious pressure on his prostate and his cock rubbing against the front of his pants like it was right now and –

"Kurt? Are you sure you're feeling okay? Kurt?"

He jolted in the seat and instantly regretted it. "Yes, yes, I'm fine Blaine. I swear."

The curly haired man raised an eyebrow. "You're sweating and you always complain about how cold my car is."

" … It's hot outside?"

"It's April."

Kurt thunked his head back on the headrest. "Okay, fine, maybe I'm running a fever or something. Can we just hurry up and get there?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bossypants," Blaine joked.

Except, oh shit, that made him think of Puck and the e-mail and how he had to keep an eye on his phone so he would know when to turn on the vibrator and – oh, God, that was it, the universe was obviously trying to kill him with gay sex.

By the time Blaine had navigated the streets, found a parking spot, and dragged him inside, Kurt was so horny he could barely see straight. Sitting at the table was, to put it lightly, an experience, and he only tried to scoot his chair forward twice before giving up. When Blaine pulled out his phone to take a call, Kurt quickly texted Puck a simple At the restaurant. They got through bread and salad before the reply came. It was just a number. 3.

Right in the middle, then. Kurt slid the dial up and tried desperately to ignore the growing need in the pit of his stomach. His phone buzzed again suddenly, making him jump and clench around the plug. Tell me how it feels.

His fingers stuttered over the keys. Sdo gud, sir. I''m so hard rite now. Wannta cum. He could almost hear Puck chuckling on the other end. Kurt constantly complained about Noah's lack of grammar when he was texting, but when the fashion intern was really turned on, proper English went right out the window.

not a chance. 1.

One was more manageable. The arousal was still there, but it was an undercurrent. He could take a bite of fettuccine, talk to Blaine about the new issue of Vogue, laugh at the other patrons' clothing. But of course Noah knew that, and of course his boyfriend wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily. The 2 text came quickly, followed almost immediately by 4.

And fuck if that didn't make him harder than steel. Pllzzz, he texted desperately. All he got in response was a simple no. His hips jerked forwards, trying in vain to find some source of friction, some way to get off. As Blaine looked over the check, he reached down to adjust himself and his eyes drifted shut as his fingers trailed across his aching cock. Fuck the rest of the restaurant, fuck the fact that he was three feet from his best friend, fuck the fact that he wasn't allowed yet, Kurt really, really wanted to cum right then.


He was sure he whined as he forced his fingers away. "Y-yes, Blaine?"

"Kurt, really, you don't look all right. You're sweaty and red and short of breath."

"I'm fine, Blaine." He forced the words out past gritted teeth.

The former Warbler raised an eyebrow. "I'm not buying it, Kurt. Look, there's only one thing you need to do."

Cum? Why yes, Blaine, I'd love to cum, but you see there's the tiny problem of being in public. Plus, if I do, my boyfriend will spank my ass red.

"You need to call in sick. I'm not taking you back to that office until you do. I don't care what you tell them – hell, tell them you have cholera – but you're not going back to work."

Kurt almost laughed out loud at that, despite the circumstances. Blaine was so naïve it was almost cute. "Look, I'd l-like to, but my boss - " Before he could finish his sentence, his phone buzzed again with the text 5. Kurt adjusted the dial and immediately grabbed onto the sides of the table for support. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck that was goooooood. It was – and he was supposed to be talking – just like that – people were starting to stare – holy – he needed to – fuuuuuuuck.

"All right, that settles it," Kurt barely heard. "Come on, I'm taking you back to your place. Forget about your boss, I'll call him and tell him that you nearly died on your lunch hour, okay?"

"S-s-sure," Kurt agreed, only halfway knowing what he was agreeing to. As Blaine helped him hobble out the car, he texted Puck. Ttoooo mmuuuuch.

2 then, came the reply.

He sighed in relief and turned the vibrator down. Thank you ssir. Baline thin ks i'm sick and si taking me home. Text finished, he leaned forward and rested his head against the cool surface of the dashboard. Five minutes from their apartment, he got the reply.

Wen u get inside, strip. kneel by door and put plug on 5.

It took a few seconds for Kurt's brain to kick on and start connecting puzzle pieces, but when he did, he almost cried. It was, what, nearing two o'clock right now? And Puck didn't get off of work until five. He was going to be kneeling there for the better part of three hours with an enormous plug torturing him. There was no way he was going to be able to put off cumming, but if he did then Noah was going to beat his ass raw. He was so fucked.

Blaine slowed his car to a stop at the curb. "You need some help getting inside?"

"No!" Kurt all but shouted. Yeah, just what he needed to finish out this day of embarrassment: his best friend to see him naked and kneeling. "Uh, I mean, no, I'll be fine. Th-thanks for the ride, Blaine. See you next week?"

As he grabbed his things and started the walk up to their apartment, Kurt could feel the dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Ten more steps until the torture started. Eight more. Five. Three. One.

Kurt hung his clothes in the coat closet by the door (What? Those were Armani, and everyone knew that folding a good Armani was a cardinal sin), knelt on the tile, and turned up the switch.

For a few moments, he tried to stifle his noises, but then he recalled that he was alone in his apartment in the middle of the day. Whimpers and moans ripped from his throat and his whole body shook from the pleasure. His cock dripped precum onto the floor beneath him, and he knew that if his master were here, Noah would make him lick it clean.

Oh, God, that was the wrong path to go down, because now he was thinking about Noah being here, his master's cock in his mouth, in his ass, fucking him so hard and fast and deep that Kurt would see stars and –

With a loud moan, he fell face forward into the carpet. Fuck, he was so close. But if he did cum, Noah would find out and he'd be punished. Five swats with a belt, or a month without cumming, or being spanked until he couldn't sit for a week – all of them so wonderfully painful. His head tilted so that his cheek was rubbing against the floor and he rocked his hips forward, sobbing, "Master."

"Well, look at this."

The voice startled him and took a few seconds to register. When it had, Kurt almost thought he was hallucinating. But no, those scuffed boots circling him were real and the musky scent he was so familiar with was real, and the growing bulge in those jeans – oh, God, he hoped that was real.

"Master," he moaned again. He tried to form a sentence, a thought, some way to tell this man how happy he was, how thankful, how … how …. But all that came out was, "Master."

The toe of the boot under his chin, pushing him back into a kneeling position, and then a hand on his jaw, forcing him to look up into Noah's face.

"I'm right here, you silly slut." When Kurt nuzzled into his hand, he laughed and pulled the remote for the vibrator out from his back pocket. "Maybe you need a little break."

He slid the dial down and, even as he whined, Kurt was whispering, "Thank you, Master, thank you." He pressed kisses into Noah's palm and, when the taller man stepped closer, along his pants leg.

Puck just hummed. Then, "I did take half a day off of work for you. I think that deserves just a little bit of gratitude, don't you slut?" In case the point wasn't clear enough, one hand fisted in Kurt's hair and dragged him forwards while the free one worked at undoing the fly of his jeans.

Kurt whimpered desperately. He loved sucking his master's cock. The weight of it on his tongue, the taste, the noises Puck would make when he deep-throated him ….God, it was heaven. Noah pulled down his boxers and Kurt immediately took the half-hard organ into his mouth, moaning around it.

"Yeah, babe, that's it," Noah encouraged, pressing his head down further. "Take a little bit more … there we go. Mm, yeah, your mouth feels amazing. You're such a good cocksucker." And as degrading as that was, Kurt felt his heart pick up a little bit. When he ran his tongue along the head, Puck groaned and he was almost surprised how hard it was not to cum from that. He pulled back and laid his head against his master's thigh, panting. Above him, Noah chuckled.

"You look so good like this, you know that, whore? Hair messed up, naked, hard as a rock and so close you can barely breathe. Only I get to see you like this, isn't that right, love?"

Kurt's eyes slid closed. "Yes, sir. Only you, Master."

"Good boy," Noah murmured, petting Kurt's hair back. They stayed like that for a moment until Puck said, "Follow me," and started towards the bedroom. Kurt crawled behind him for a few steps but the plug started shifting inside him and his arms gave out. He fell into a shuddering ball, barely staving off orgasm. His master sighed and pulled him up, carrying him into the room and laying him on the bed. Kurt's legs spread automatically, hips pushing upwards. Noah chuckled.

"Easy now, my little bitch. We'll get there." As he spoke, he slipped the jeans off of his hips and kicked them across the room, followed closely by his boxers and shirt. By the time he had started peeling off his undershirt, Kurt was practically panting.

"Please, Master, please," he begged, hips undulating. "I've been good, sir, so good, just – please."

Noah planted his knees on either side of Kurt's stomach, looking down on him. "'Please' what, whore? You're not being very specific."

"Please f – oh, mm, ah. P-please, I, ah, I n-n-need - " he broke off, keening, as Puck's large hands teased his nipples. "Please, I need – need to – oh!"

"What do you need, babe?" Noah was smirking as his fingers trailed lines down Kurt's torso. "You need me to leave, maybe?"

"No! No, I – ah, I need you, M-master. Please, f-f-f – oh, God, p-please!"

Puck leaned down closer, resting his forehead on Kurt's. "Say it," he murmured.

"Please," Kurt breathed. "Please, fuck me." With a growl, Noah pressed their lips together, kissing his boy ferociously. Kurt moaned and whimpered and gasped as his master kissed across his jaw, down his neck, over his chest and stomach, until he was inches away from Kurt's leaking cock. The countertenor could only gasp strangled pleas, until Puck chuckled darkly and smacked his thigh, ordering, "Over." Kurt scrambled onto hands and knees.

A pair of lips attached to his neck as fingers trailed from his shoulders down to his hips, across his buttocks, before gripping around the base of the plug. His master pulled it the tiniest bit, and then pushed it back in excruciatingly slowly. Kurt keened, high and loud, at the feeling.

"Guess you like that?" came the mumble against his skin.

He gasped, "Yes, yes, Master. I – it's, God, I feel so full."

"Little slut," Noah growled. Kurt barely had time to agree before the plug was gone. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness spread through him, and he whimpered. His hips bucked forward before the Jewish man grabbed them and held them still. "Calm down, Princess. Half the fun's in getting there."

A bitchy comment half-formed in Kurt's mind (something about having waited almost two hours to 'get there') but all that came out of his mouth was, "Master, want – need your cock – please, God, sir. Fuck, need you so bad, need your cock so bad."

Puck mock-sighed. "Oh, all right then, slut." Kurt moaned, but then Puck was pulling away and getting up and where was he going? The countertenor sobbed and pressed his face into the pillow underneath him.

"Please, sir! I'm sorry, so sorry, I'll be good, I'll be a good boy. Don't leave, please. I need you, Master."

A hand reappeared on his shoulder blades, along with Noah's reassuring voice. "Hey, hey, calm down. Just getting the lube." A slick finger circled his opening before pressing in, and Kurt practically melted into the mattress. "That's it, babe, just like that. You're so open for me, my little slut. Think you can take another? Fuck, you look so good, spread around my fingers like this. Your hole is so hot, baby, I love it. One more, slut. Oh, yeah. You're so hot, my little whore."

"Please," Kurt gasped, his hips rocking back onto those absolutely delicious fingers. "Please, sir, I need it. I need you to fuck me, please."

Puck groaned low in his throat and pulled out his fingers. Kurt didn't even have time to moan before his master's cock was sliding into him, so slowly he thought he might die. His hips squirmed in Noah's grasp and he was moaning so loud the glass might shatter but he couldn't bring himself to really care because Master was fucking him!

Noah finally bottomed out and Kurt pressed his face into the pillow to stop himself from screaming. And then Puck was pulling out and now back – oh, God – back in, and damn it, why was he being so slow?

"Master," Kurt whined. "Please, I need you to go faster."

Long fingers wrapped around his mouth and a deep voice hissed in his ear, "Shut up, slut. You're mine," he emphasized the words with a harsh slam of his hips, "and I will fuck you however fast or slow I think you deserve. Got that?"

"Yessssss," Kurt crooned against the fingers on his lips. "Yes, I, yes, thank you Master."

"Good boy," his master praised, then slammed his hips forward. Kurt screamed something unintelligible and rocketed up, reaching back to hook his arms around Noah's neck. "Such a flexible little bitch," Noah commented before taking advantage of the new position to pinch his boy's nipple.

Kurt's eyes rolled back in his head, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. He was already starting to climb that peak. He shuddered, hips rutting down onto his master's, taking him deeper and deeper, wanting to know he'd pleased his master before he finally, finally came. Noah's fingers traced his ribs, his hipbones, his collarbone. They teased at his nipple, then rubbed his ass. Teeth and tongue traced the shell of his ear and always, always, that rock-hard cock slammed up against his prostate, effectively turning his brain to mush. Then, one of those (absolutely fucking magical) hands trailed down to his dick.

Kurt tried to warn Noah, but he was pretty sure all that came out was, "Mas – fu – oh, Gaw – nngh, ah, I'm gon – gonna – Mas – cking – mmm, hhnng, uhn."

Somehow, his master got the message and pulled him up close to his body, hissing, "Cum, slut. Cum for me now."

Everything went white. Hours of denial, of teasing erupted and Kurt could only barely hang on for the ride. He was sure he screamed, he just wasn't sure what. And then he heard Noah groan from behind him, felt that familiar rush inside him and everything seemed to get more and more intense until it was going blurry around the edges, but it was so good, so good, so goo –

When he finally came to, he was laid out on their bed, Noah smoothing his hair back and kissing along his jawline. He looked up and smirked.

"Welcome back there, sweetie. Have a good time, I guess?"

Still muddled and hazy, Kurt burrowed into his boyfriend's arms, murmuring a, "Shush, you," into the warm, tan skin.

Noah chuckled. "Such a cuddle whore."

"You love it."

"Sure. Love it, tolerate it, what's the difference?"

Kurt reached up and laid a finger across the taller man's lips. "Thought I told you to shush."

"You did," Noah mumbled.

"Then do that, and snuggle with your adorable boyfriend while you're at it."

Puck just chuckled, though Kurt swore he could make out, "Puckzilla's still got it." Then Noah pulled him closer and they fell silent, just breathing and cuddling. Just before he slipped off, Kurt managed the thought that he should really send Blaine a gift basket or something.

Then he rested his head against his boyfriend's chest and slept.

A/N: D'awwwwww. Look at them, being all super cute and stuff... Yeah, I have no idea how that happened. Um, so, yes.

Uh, from here on out, I kind of need suggestions, because I feel like all my ideas are just recycled old ideas. So, any fresh new take would be all, y'know, cool and stuff.

Also, as this is my first time writing actual full-on sex (eep!) I'm not entirely sure how I did. If it sucked, let me know. I'm trying to get better, but I have to know what to improve on.

Pr0ny goodness? C0rny badness? D0n't care at all? Let me know with a review or a PM!

Thanks you so much for reading, because you are my inspiration,