Glee Kink Meme Prompt:
Kurt and Blaine never met in High School, Blaine becomes some sort of successful businessman/lawyer/suit-wearing type of guy who is extremely bored of the monotony of his life. Kurt works at the strip club Blaine decides to visit and decides to get the attention of the extremely good looking rich man.
Blaine gets into this sexy, barely-clothed man riding him and pays to take it to a more private location.
Hot prostitute sex ensues (preferably with Kurt riding Blaine but whatever positions). Bonuses (aka my undying love) for use of toys/dity talk/light bondage
(Based on this art: http:/ onsunlightwings .tumblr . com /post/6777733960/say-how-much-do-i-need-to-pay-to-take-this) (take out the spaces)
I totally loved this prompt, and the art was awesome, and I basically started writing it as soon as I saw it. I have to say, this is the most, uh… graphic smut I've written. Unfortunately, I haven't written any toys/dirty talk/light bondage before, so I don't know if it's any good, but I gave it my best shot. Enjoy :)
It was a normal day at work, just like yesterday, and every day before that. Blaine didn't hate his job, not really, but he certainly didn't like it. Sure, he made a lot of money, I mean, a lot of money, pushing papers around at his big corporate law firm, but he hardly ever had fun anymore. Yeah, he had friends; Wes was a lawyer in the same firm, and David worked in the law firm just down the street, but things were different now. Wes was married with two kids and a third on the way, David was working on trying to make partner at his firm. They would hang out occasionally, but it seemed that all Wes and David wanted to do was go to strip clubs and watch naked dancing girls, and that just didn't do it for Blaine. But he would go, trying to be a good friend, looking down into his drink when the dancers took off the last of their clothing. He would sit there uncomfortably when girls would come up to him and ask if he wanted to 'go somewhere more private', to which he would always decline, resulting in hisses of 'cheap' being thrown at him. He blamed it on the suit. If he went in there wearing a cheaper suit then nobody would assume he had money to throw around on strippers, but Blaine Anderson did not own cheap suits. More often than not, lately, Blaine would decline going out all together, and would sit at home, alone, again.
He contemplated all of this as he sat on his white leather couch in front of his big screen television on a Friday night, sipping his red wine and eating Thai right out of the box. He needed to do something, be impulsive, feel something; he just didn't know where to start. His iPhone vibrated on the table in front of him and he barely glanced at the picture of David before answering it in a monotonous voice.
"Hey, bro, Wes and I are going out to Eden's tonight, you in?"
"Sorry, not tonight David. I'm busy."
"Busy watching CSI?"
"No," Blaine responded, pressing the mute button on his remote.
"Dude, I heard the opening credits. That's fine, you don't have to come out, but we miss hanging out with you."
Blaine sighed. "I miss hanging out with you guys to, but Eden's isn't really my thing."
"… I know. Sorry. Well, listen, even if you don't come out with us you shouldn't be at home alone on a Friday night."
"Who says I'm alone?"
"Okay, fine, I'm alone."
"Why don't you go to a guy strip club?"
"While it may be true that most male strippers are gay, those establishments are still geared towards women. It's not the same."
"Sebastian was telling me about one he likes to go to, he says it's a classy place…"
Sebastian was another Dalton alumnus, who now worked with David. Sebastian was also Blaine's first boyfriend, but it had ended badly; he just wasn't Blaine's type. Regardless, Blaine figured he could give this place a try. "Thanks, David. I might check it out."
It was a normal day at work, much like yesterday, but Kurt knew it was going to be a bit busier. It was a Friday night, which meant there would probably be some new faces in the audience in addition to his regulars and the semi-regular weekend crowds. Kurt liked his job, he really did; there was no better feeling than a room full of men with their undivided attention on him, a lot of whom came specifically to see him. This may not have been the life he imagined for himself when he was a teenager living in Ohio, but that boy didn't know much about how the world worked. Sure, he moved to New York with aspirations of being on a much different stage, but this one suited him just fine. Lately, though, he had been feeling that there was something missing in his life, he just couldn't figure out what it was. He got to wear awesome outfits every night, he danced on stage, he made a lot of money, people worshipped him, and yet, when he went home in the small (and sometimes not-so-small) hours of the morning to crawl into his bed, alone, he felt a hole. A hole that he discovered couldn't be filled with meaningless sex with strangers. He needed something solid, something constant in his whirlwind life.
He thought about this as he laced up his thigh-high, black leather boots and adjusted the tops of his sheer black stockings and matching elbow-length gloves. He practised his sexy faces in the mirror as he did every night, grimacing when he thought about how awful his sexy faces were in the beginning. He put a touch of pink stained lip gloss on to accentuate his mouth, then turned his attentions to his outfit; a silky pair of lace-trimmed black panties and matching black tank top. When wearing these boots he always kept it simple with the clothing; too much could distract the audience. He would throw on a silver duster just before he went on stage.
Kurt looked over his shoulder to see his fellow dancer, Sam, standing behind him, staring at his ass. He knew it looked fabulous, but really, you don't say hi to someone's ass. "Hello Sam."
"I was wondering if you were doing anything after work tonight? Maybe you can come over to my house again?" His eyes were roaming all over Kurt's body, barely meeting his eyes.
"You know I don't make plans," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "If I don't find someone better out there tonight I might consider it." Whatever, Sam was a good lay.
"Sure, yeah, awesome."
The lights went out and Kurt heard the music change so he grabbed the duster, throwing it over his shoulders. "Gotta go."
"Right, give 'em a good show."
"I always do."
"Now, the moment you've all been waiting for." This was his cue. "New York's Premier Male Exotic Dancer for the third year running: Kurt Hummel."
Kurt knew it was a bit unusual for people in his profession to use their real names, but it was his name that he had always pictured in lights, not some fake, corny porn star name. It may not be Broadway, but people knew his name. As he strutted onto the stage to Teenage Dream his eyes raked over the impressive crowd assembled to watch him dance, trying to pick out some likely candidates for his more private attentions later on.
He threw off the duster, flinging it to the ground, and twirled around the pole, loving the feeling of all eyes on him. As he spun, his eyes landed on a good-looking man in the front row. He had dark, curly hair pushed back with quite a bit of product, tan skin complimented nicely by his very expensive suit. As he danced, his eyes kept wandering to the dark stranger; he was intriguing. Unlike every other man in the room, this one wasn't drooling over him like a horny teenager. Kurt was purposely dancing for this guy now, catching his eye and winking at him, pointing at him when it was appropriate in the lyrics, doing anything to get a rise out of him. This was going to be fun.
Blaine was almost thinking it was time to leave. He was enjoying the show, but he felt strange in the front row watching men dance and take off their clothes; he felt creepy. It was one thing to go to the strippers with a group of friends to have a good time, it was quite another to go by yourself. Just as he was about to stand up, the lights went out.
"Now, the moment you've all been waiting for," the DJ called out, as the lights started flickering wildly. The atmosphere of the room changed automatically, all eyes going to the stage, and Blaine could taste the anticipation. Maybe he should hang around a little bit longer. "New York's Premier Male Exotic Dancer for the third year in a row: Kurt Hummel."
The moment the pale, lean dancer stepped onto the stage, Blaine was mesmerized. As his jacket flew to the floor, Blaine's eyes traced up the six inch heels running all the way up his slender legs, showing off just a bit of smooth, white thigh between them and his racy black panties that didn't leave anything to the imagination. A strip of tight abdomen peeked out over the panties, below the black tank top that was caressing his chest, and his arms rubbed across his own body erotically, fingers tracing up his long neck to his face. Holy shit, he was beautiful; Blaine had never seen anyone like him. He was confident too, the way he moved, he knew he had every man in the place wrapped around his finger. A perfect blend of femme beauty and steely strength. Their eyes met and Blaine was lost, although he schooled his face into an expression of calm composure; he didn't want to look like the horny teenager he felt like inside. He could have sworn that this flawless creature was performing just for him. Every thrust of his hips, every twirl around the pole, every sensual shake of that ass had Blaine craving even more. When he got on his hands and knees and crawled cat-like towards him, Blaine thought he would die. Was it possible to die from being turned on?
When the song ended and the dancer sauntered off the stage and into the back room, Blaine had to shake himself out of the trance he was in, trying not to give in to the disappointment welling in him. As the volume of the music went down slightly and the lights stopped flashing and turned a bit brighter, he was able to slip back into reality.
As soon as he walked off the stage, Kurt knew he needed to see more of that hot, rich business man, no wait… corporate lawyer, he decided. He had seen enough of his type around here. Kurt spared a brief moment wondering if he was openly gay or closeted before he realized it didn't really matter; it's not like he was going to marry the guy. He re-dressed himself, did a brief touch-up of his hair, and headed out onto the floor. Kurt spotted him instantly, looking as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to stay or leave, so Kurt made up his mind for him.
"You're new here," Kurt commented from behind him. Blaine spun around and Kurt saw his eyes widen before a mask of indifference fell into place.
"I am. You're a really good dancer," he replied calmly. Kurt vowed to make him lose that composure before the end of the night.
"I'm even better in private," Kurt said, leaning in and resting a hand on the man's thigh, "you interested?"
"I might be." He leaned in as well, until his breath was ghosting over Kurt's neck. Well, that answered that question; in Kurt's experience, closeted men weren't that bold with him, this guy was definitely out. Again, not that it mattered.
"Well, if you want more of this," Kurt turned slightly, bumping his hip into the seated man's, "follow me." He sauntered towards the private rooms without a glance back, knowing that the man was following him. He led him into a room, closing the door behind them. After the awkward transaction part, Kurt turned on the music, Robin Thicke's When I Get You Alone, then grabbed the lawyer's tie and led him over to the white couch against the wall. "What's your name, honey?"
"Blaine. Blaine Anderson."
"Well, Blaine, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show." Kurt started dancing for Blaine, using his best moves to really get him going. It was working too. Blaine could control his facial expression as much as he wanted, but he couldn't control his base physiological responses to Kurt's body. His heart started beating harder, Kurt could see the artery jumping in his neck; a sheen of sweat was forming on his forehead; and let's not forget the growing bulge in his pants. He kept a close eye on Blaine, watching to see what he liked, and he definitely liked the ass. Whenever Kurt turned away from him, Blaine's breath caught in his throat, followed by barely perceptible grunts of pleasure; when he bent over to touch his toes, Blaine audibly moaned. This was Kurt's favourite part; watching the composure of stiff suits crumble at the sight of him. Kurt turned around and grabbed Blaine's hands, resting them on his hips.
"Aren't there, like, rules against me touching you?" Blaine asked, looking around the empty room uncertainly.
Kurt crawled up onto the couch and straddled his lap, placing one hand on his leg, stroking gently. "I'm not one for playing by the rules. You can touch me as much as you'd like."
Blaine relaxed at that, leaning back and resting one elbow on the back of the couch. The other arm circled around the dancer's lean waist, lightly stroking the pale skin on his back. "You are so fucking sexy," he growled.
"I know." Kurt leaned in and for a half a second Blaine thought, hoped, that Kurt was going to kiss him, but he didn't. He moved his hands to Blaine's shirt and undid his tie and the first few buttons, scratching Blaine's chest lightly. "You're not too bad yourself." He leaned back again, resting an arm across Blaine's shoulders while the other hand went back to caressing Blaine's thigh.
"I bet you say that to all the boys." Blaine's hand moved lower, cupping Kurt's firm ass, and he slid his thumb into those sexy black panties, pulling them down slightly.
"That I do, but I'm not usually telling the truth." Kurt adjusted his position and moved his hips forward, pressing his erection into Blaine's stomach to show him just how honest he was being. Blaine groaned and grabbed Kurt's hips with both hands, pulling him into down to his own hips harshly. This was what Kurt was waiting for, turning this calm, confident gentleman into a primal, desperate man. He groaned again, rutting his hips up into Kurt this time.
"I need you," Blaine growled, finally giving in to his desires. "How much will it cost to take this somewhere more… private?"
"It depends how you want it," Kurt whispered in his ear before taking the lobe between his teeth, eliciting another groan from Blaine. "You just might be able to afford me," he said, rubbing the expensive material of Blaine's suit between his fingers, and then he whispered a number in his ear.
"You're that good, are you?"
"Only one way to find out."
Blaine cursed his fingers as he dropped his keys, fumbling to get them into the lock of his apartment door. It was just too damn hard to concentrate with Kurt's body pressed up against him, his teeth nibbling Blaine's neck. The entire cab ride had been torturous, with subtle touches and teasing words; Blaine had too much propriety to ravage anyone in the back seat of a cab. Now that they were finally here though… He finally got the door open and they tumbled inside, but Kurt broke away from him, looking around the apartment. "Nice place," he commented, running his hands over the back of the couch; real leather, nice. Normally he would have been all over his customer by now; he could have finished him off pretty quickly, and the sooner that happened the sooner Kurt could leave. But for some reason that he couldn't explain, Kurt wanted this one to last, and for that to happen, Blaine needed to cool off a bit.
Blaine picked up on the cue, and had a similar thought. If he was going to be paying that much for this, he was going to make sure it lasted. "Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked, heading towards the kitchen.
Kurt valued a classy man. "Red." Blaine took out two glasses and went over to his wine rack, and Kurt noticed that he deliberated for a moment before choosing a bottle instead of just picking one at random. He poured the glasses then joined Kurt on the couch, handing him a glass. Kurt took a sip, appreciating the fine quality. "What do you do for a living, Blaine?" He asked, curling his legs underneath him and leaning in closer.
"Corporate lawyer. Boring as hell, but it pays good," he responded.
"I can see that," Kurt said, running Blaine's silk tie through his fingers.
"I just want you to know, I don't usually do this," Blaine blurted out, then bit his tongue to keep from blabbering. Damn it, why did he say that? He didn't want Kurt to get the impression that he was embarrassed about doing this, even if maybe he was, just a little bit. He also didn't want Kurt to think that he thought he was better than people who did this. He gulped his glass of wine down.
Kurt took a long sip of wine, regarding Blaine. "I know. You're a classy guy. And you're nervous." Kurt ran his fingers down Blaine's chest and nibbled slightly on his ear, and Blaine's cheeks flushed. "I think it's adorable. I think you're adorable." His hand had wandered down to Blaine's hard, straining crotch, and he swigged back the rest of his wine then stood up and grabbed Blaine's hand. "Shall we?"
Kurt had a knack for knowing what his customers wanted; it was kind of like a sixth sense, in addition to his ability to spot trends in men's fashion and his ability to know when hair color comes from a bottle. He knew that Blaine was an ass freak; he could tell when he was watching Blaine watch him on stage. He also knew that right now, what Blaine wanted was someone to control him. He was the type of guy who had very strict control of his life, everything happened in a certain way every day, everything had its proper spot, everything was as expected. Tonight, he wanted Kurt to take control, push his boundaries and make him feel something. Kurt opened up his bag that he had brought with him and pulled out two strips of silky material, setting it back down beside the bed. "Lie down on the bed," he commanded in a low, husky voice.
Blaine obeyed instantly, lying on his back propped up slightly by pillows, and the eager look in his eyes told Kurt that he was right on the money.
"Hands up behind your head." Again, the response was immediate. Kurt crawled up the bed seductively and straddled him, Blaine groaned as their naked cocks rubbed against each other, and Kurt leaned over to tie each wrist to the headboard. Blaine tugged on his wrists experimentally, moaning deep in his chest when they were held fast. "You like that, don't you?" Kurt said in his ear, trailing his fingertips down Blaine's ribs causing him to squirm. "You like not being in control."
Blaine didn't answer with words, but the pleasured sounds he was making was confirmation enough for Kurt. He slid down Blaine's body and took his long, thick cock in his mouth, relaxing his throat and taking the whole thing in his mouth in one swift movement. "Fuck," Blaine hissed, trying to reach his hands down to grasp Kurt's head before remembering they weren't going anywhere. His back arched at the pleasure coursing through him from Kurt's very skilled tongue, and he whimpered when Kurt pulled away.
Kurt reached back into his bag, coming out with a bottle of lube and a large purple dildo, and Blaine's eyes widened. "Don't worry, sweetie, these are for me," Kurt reassured him. Blaine was huge, he needed to prep himself well. He took up a position on his knees in between Blaine's legs, back to Blaine. He dropped his upper body down, supported on one elbow, so that his ass was in the air in front of Blaine, causing him to groan at the sight. With his other hand, Kurt stroked his own ass, spreading his cheeks to give Blaine a view of his puckered hole. Blaine was rutting into the air, his wrists straining at the constraints, needing to touch that ass, to touch himself, to touch anything. Kurt opened the bottle of lube and squirted a bit on his fingers, then reached back again and started massaging his own entrance. Blaine's cock was twitching against his abdomen while he watched Kurt slowly slide a finger into his tight hole, groaning and pushing his hips back onto his finger. "Do you like that Blaine? You're a little ass freak aren't you? Answer me, Blaine."
"Ungh, yes, fuck," Blaine moaned.
"You like watching me stick my fingers in my ass, don't you?" Kurt stuck a second finger in alongside the first, thrusting more vigorously. "You're a fucking pervert, Blaine. You like watching me finger myself."
"Fuck, yes." Blaine discovered that he was able to grab his hair and he did so, pulling the dark curls to get any sort of stimulation. "Ungh, shit."
"Do you want more, Blaine? Tell me what you want." Kurt had three fingers in now, pumping rapidly in and out of his slick hole, bucking his hips back and forth.
"Oh god. Stick that fucking dildo up your ass. Fuck yourself with it."
Kurt slid his fingers out, grasping an ass cheek with each hand and spread them apart, allowing Blaine a view of his wet, stretched hole. Then he grabbed the dildo, slicking it up with a bit more lube, and in one swift thrust shoved the full eight inches inside of him. He moaned loudly as the toy hit his prostate, and after a few shallow, panting breaths he began to move the thick rubber dildo in and out of his ass. Blaine moaned and writhed, watching Kurt's hole swallow the toy, seeing it slide out inch by inch until it was all the way out, Kurt's empty, gaping hole quivering until he thrust the purple rubber rod back in. "Fuck, Blaine, this feels so good," Kurt moaned. "I fucking love the feeling of this shoved deep in my ass."
"So fucking hot," Blaine whimpered. "Shit… Fuck me."
"You want me to ride your cock, Blaine?" Kurt was rolling his hips in circles, continuing to fill himself with the dildo.
"Please fuck me," he begged.
Kurt tossed the dildo aside, then reached into his bag to pull out a condom, swiftly tearing it open and sliding it onto Blaine's rock hard dick. He crouched down straddling Blaine, teasing the tip of his erection around his entrance. Blaine was whimpering and moaning, thrusting his hips up for some much needed friction. Finally, Kurt slowly sunk himself down onto Blaine, letting Blaine fill him up. "Shit, Blaine, your huge cock feels so good inside of me," Kurt moaned, rocking his hips back and forth gently. He leaned his body forward, resting his forehead on Blaine's.
Blaine had a sudden urge to kiss Kurt, even though he had heard that you weren't supposed to kiss… well, prostitutes. He felt uncomfortable using that word to describe Kurt, but that's what he was. In an impulsive moment he decided just to go for it, and he pressed his lips firmly into Kurt's.
If Kurt had been paying attention like he usually was, watching for signs that Blaine was thinking about kissing him, he wouldn't have even had the chance to try; Kurt didn't do kissing, it was too personal. But something about this man made Kurt lose control; he got caught up in the pleasure and the feelings, and forgot that it was just a job. So when Blaine kissed him, Kurt was caught completely off guard. He hesitated for a moment, and that was all Blaine needed to press his advantage and make the kiss deeper. He pressed his tongue in between Kurt's parted lips, tilting his head for a better angle.
Kurt had forgotten how good simply kissing felt. He couldn't remember the last time he kissed anyone; it had been a while since he'd been in a real relationship, and he refused to kiss customers or one night stands. Blaine was making him realize what he was missing out on. Kurt kissed him back, almost reticently at first, but then with more passion. When Blaine nibbled on his lower lip, Kurt moaned, thinking that this was nice and he could get used to it.
That thought jerked him back to reality, and he pulled away quickly. Kurt was a prostitute for fucks sake, Blaine was paying him to have sex with him; he wasn't going to get used to anything. Blaine tried to reach for his face to pull him back, but the ties still around his wrists prevented him from doing so. Kurt closed his eyes and started moving his hips up and down, causing Blaine to throw his head back with a gasp. Kurt threw himself into the familiar, automatic motions, riding Blaine hard to try to forget what just happened. But he couldn't forget the feel of Blaine's lips, or the taste of Blaine's tongue still lingering on his. Fuck.
Blaine was wrenching his wrists against the restraints trying to touch, grab, scratch, but being unable to do so only intensified the feelings. He was thrusting up in time with Kurt's downward movements, trying to get that much more penetration. Blaine changed the angle of his hips just so, and suddenly Kurt was crying out, clawing at Blaine's chest and stomach with each thrust as he rode him. Their movements were becoming less organized and more frantic, and with one final thrust, Kurt was coming in thick, hot spurts all over Blaine's chest. The contractions of Kurt's muscles brought Blaine over the edge seconds later.
Kurt immediately rolled off of Blaine, untying the restraints and resisting the urge to kiss his red, chaffed wrist; where was that coming from? Blaine lied in a boneless stupor for a moment watching Kurt gather up his paraphernalia and start getting dressed, then he climbed out of the bed to grab a towel to wipe the mess off of his abdomen and chest and toss the full condom in the trash. Blushing only slightly, Blaine grabbed a stack of bills from his wallet and handed it to Kurt as he was lacing up his boots, then went to lie back on his bed as he watched Kurt finish. Kurt noticed, but didn't comment, that it was nearly twice the amount they had discussed when he shoved it in to his bag.
"Can I call you?" Blaine asked from the bed as Kurt slipped his tank top over his head. He needed to see him again.
Kurt smiled at him and winked. "You know where I work." With that, he grabbed his jacket and walked out.
As he stood waiting for a cab, Kurt had the thought that maybe next time, he wouldn't charge Blaine Anderson.
So, sorry if this isn't exactly what you were expecting, but Klaine is totally my OTP, I couldn't keep it strictly prostitute/john, I had to add some feelings in there lol. Hope it was still okay :) Also, as previously mentioned, I have no toys/dirty talk/bondage writing experience, so any comments/reviews letting me know how I did on that/some constructive criticism would be uber-appreciated!