A/N: This chapter contains graphic non-con/dub-con scenes.

--------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 4: The deed

Face to face with the boy, standing by the bed, Blaine stroked his fingertips along the curve of Toby's jaw, looking at him sincerely.

"Whenever you want me to pause, slow down or stop what I'm doing – just tell me, and I will. I can't give you the perfect first time, and I'm sorry it has to be like this. But I can and will take care of you as much as possible, okay?"

A single nod was all he got, but it was enough.

With quick fingers, Blaine reached to undo the clasp of the leather collar. "Let's get rid of this first."

That alone seemed to let the boy breathe easier, melted a bit of tension out of his shoulders, and Blaine went with it. Just touching at first, stroking gently down Toby's neck and arm, to the pulse point of his wrist where his heartbeat fluttered fast under delicate, fair skin. Blaine raised the wrist up for a kiss, a caress of lips that made the boy shudder involuntarily before he stiffened again, surprised. Blaine never stopped, kissing up the sensitive inner side of Toby's arm, all the way up to his neck. He wouldn't kiss him properly – wouldn't steal this away from him, too, but he knew he was good with his lips. And he needed every advantage he could use to make it bearable for Toby.

He spent a long while kissing and licking the impossibly smooth skin of Toby's neck, patiently searching out all the places that made the breath hitch in the boy's throat, until he felt him get loose and relaxed under his hands.

Only then did Blaine dare to let his fingers sneak over the fabric of the black top, to discover the firm planes of toned muscle underneath. Skillfully, without pause, he slid his fingertips just under the hem of the top, and when there was no protest, slowly smoothed his palms up Toby's back, still kissing the sensitive spot under his jaw. A minute later the garment was off and it was Blaine's turn to draw in a soft gasp because, oh god. No matter the situation, this boy was gorgeous. He had to know this, right?

"God, you're perfect; so beautiful." Toby's eyes snapped open, shocked, and Blaine let his fingertips caress down his firm, smooth chest. The boy's breath hitched when his thumb drew over a nipple, and Blaine led him backwards towards the bed. "Lay down, okay?"

The tension that came back into Toby's muscles with the new, more vulnerable position melted within the next few minutes under Blaine's gentle hands and lips. He continued to touch and kiss, licking teasingly, until he flicked his tongue over the boy's nipple and heard a quiet moan on the exhale. He knelt back up then to take off his own shirt, before returning his hands to Toby's sides, his tongue sliding in non-threatening little circles down his abdomen, towards his navel.

The close-fitting pants did nothing to hide the fact that Toby was at least half-hard already. His eyes were closed, his face distant, and Blaine didn't want to shake him out of whatever scenario he was playing in his head to keep himself from the reality, so he stayed quiet. Lips still occupied with the soft skin of Toby's stomach, he traced his fingers, feather-light, along the length of his cock, earning a moan. So he did it again, more firmly this time, cupping him with his palm, and the boy pressed his hips up into the touch, his breath shuddering. Blaine kept going, leading him further into the world of sensations and away from reality of their situation.

When he finally slid Toby's pants and underwear down and off in a smooth motion, the boy stilled and tensed for an instant. He didn't open his eyes, though, or protest, so Blaine went on to touch his bare cock with a gentle slide of fingertips, whispering "So beautiful". A gasp and a press into his hand let him know that it was okay to proceed and he used one of the little bottles of lube waiting on the bedside table to discreetly slick up his palm. Minutes later, Toby was keening and shuddering, pulsing into Blaine's stroking hand with a stunned look on his face.

It didn't stay there long – Blaine had just enough time to clean up his hand and Toby's stomach with a tissue before the boy stiffened and gasped, his eyes snapping open, wide with shock.

Blaine lay down beside him without a word, not touching, just letting his eyes linger on Toby's face. He didn't expect a comment about what just happened, and didn't get any. After a moment Toby reached out and, with only a bit of hesitation, touched Blaine's collarbone before sliding his fingers down his chest. He seemed fascinated with the light dusting of hair there, and Blaine lay calmly, letting the boy get acquainted with any part of his body he felt comfortable to touch. When a soft gasp escaped him, Toby startled.

"Can I –?"

Blaine smiled. "You can do whatever you want."

So Toby did, taking what looked like his first opportunity to get to see and learn another man's body. Blaine just lay there, satisfied with his role of a guinea pig for the moment, shivering every now and then under the flutter of curious fingers. Once Toby's hand met the barrier of Blaine's waistband, he looked up again.

"Do you mind?"

"Of course not."

It took a bit of fumbling, but after a while Blaine was naked, sprawled on his back and trying not to blush under Toby's stare. He wasn't particularly self-conscious – he knew his body was in good shape – but this felt different from any of his earlier experiences. For one, he felt a distracting conflict between his body, turned on by the close proximity of an incredibly attractive guy touching him, and his mind that kept telling him that it was wrong to feel that way, for more than one reason. Although, considering what they had to do, Blaine felt excused to make his mind shut up for the time being. He had no doubt it would come back to hit him full force later, but he hoped it would be after he left this place. He could deal with the consequences then.

Toby drew a shaky breath, daring to ghost his hand over Blaine's cock and then stroke it carefully. Wordlessly, with just a hum of pleasure to let the boy know that it was okay, Blaine handed him the lube. It took Toby a few moments to gain confidence and find a rhythm, but soon he was taking Blaine apart, visibly spurred on by his reactions.

Afterwards, the boy looked awed and a little proud of himself, and Blaine couldn't resist the temptation to kiss his shoulder with a whispered, "Thank you."

It got awkward after that, neither of them certain what to do now when they had all night before them, and a prospect of obligatory penetrative sex hanging over their heads. For that little moment before, it was easy to lose themselves in touches and sensations, non-invasive as they were; but there was no kidding themselves – it wasn't a sweetly awkward first night between lovers. It was something else entirely, something dark and heavy, something that should never have to take place. There was no escaping it. Blaine smiled a little stiffly.

"I'll go shower, all right?"

It was as much because of the discomfort of sweat and come drying on his skin as the need to be alone for a little bit and figure out how to proceed. He couldn't just say "Now let me stick my cock up your ass," could he? But then again, natural build-up to this probably wouldn't work the way it usually did when two people wanted to have sex.

The bathroom was large and luxurious, with both a big shower enclosure and a bathtub that could easily fit three people. There was an assortment of top-shelf bath and shower products there, but even after ten minutes under deliciously strong streams of hot water Blaine was no closer to forming a plan than he was before. He gave up eventually, dried himself up and went back to the room.

Toby was curled under the blankets, looking achingly young again. He watched as Blaine crossed the room to stand indecisively by the bed, naked save for the fluffy towel around his waist. Raising the covers invitingly, Toby flashed him a ghost of a smile.

"Come on, we're past ashamed I think. It's not like I won't see you naked again in a bit, we still have to – "

He blushed and broke off, and Blaine busied himself settling in bed to avoid the topic just a little bit longer. But it was silly. As much as he hoped that his team was already on their way here, he knew it wasn't likely – getting a warrant alone took at least a few hours, not to mention calling in the tactical team to secure the building. He couldn't count on it and put off the inevitable until the very last minute. So he took a deep breath and forced himself to look Toby in the eye – he was an adult, dammit. He could do it.

"Um, about that –"

Toby interrupted him, raising his hand. "No, let me. Matt, I'm sorry; I know you don't want to do this and I have no right to force you. Maybe it'll be alright if you tell John you didn't feel like it, maybe what we already did will be enough? I mean, I can't use you like that, for my own safety –"

Blaine shook his head, incredulous. "Toby –"

"Kurt. My real name is Kurt. I may as well tell you, it's not like experiencing all this under a fake name makes it any less real." Toby's – Kurt's – face seemed resigned now. Blaine nodded.

"Kurt. I don't want to do this because I don't want to hurt you or take this from you. But I will if I have to, and I'll be as gentle as possible, it's just... I hate that I can't spare you experiencing this under these circumstances."

"Can we just... do it now, then? Get it out of the way? I want to get it over with, please." Kurt's voice was shaky and Blaine's heart pounded. This was it; no more stalling. He nodded and Kurt was all businesslike all of a sudden. "All right then. Do you want me on my stomach?"

He was already pushing down blankets, steel determination on his face, and Blaine touched his hand to stop him.

"No, wait. Let me do this my way. Come here." He opened his arms and once Kurt moved closer, he covered them both, their bodies flush against each other in the soft cocoon. He returned to the gentle kisses along Kurt's neck, his hands drawing slow, soothing lines all over his body, until the tense muscles relaxed into the touch. And then he did it some more. Their hips swayed against each other, cocks brushing, and Blaine felt himself grow hard again. It helped a little not to think beyond the here and now.

After a bit, he rolled the boy onto his stomach and focused the touches and kisses on his back, unhurriedly mapping it, moving his attentions lower, inch by inch, until his tongue was diving into the crack of Kurt's ass and teasing over his entrance. This felt good and safe, and Kurt's reactions, the way he alternated between pressing onto Blaine's tongue and down against the sheets, made it clear he enjoyed it. But when Blaine whispered, "I could make you come like this," Kurt mumbled into the pillow.

"No. We need to –"

The rest of the sentence dissolved into a loud moan as Blaine slipped just the tip of his tongue inside, and maybe it wouldn't be that bad?

Except the moment he substituted his tongue with one generously slicked finger, just teasing around the entrance, he felt Kurt steel himself for what was to come, no matter how Blaine soothed and tried to guide him into it. And the problem was, this particular activity you just couldn't steel himself for – you had to relax and melt into it, accept it. Embrace the fact that you want to let someone in, so intimately. Your body knew if you didn't, it couldn't be cheated. Kurt's body knew. It went badly.

Blaine didn't want to do it – to the point where he felt himself going soft in protest. But it wasn't his choice anymore, not here, not now. So he kept stroking himself with one hand while the other worked on opening Kurt up, slowly but insistently. He did his best to tune out every pained whimper, every stiffening of Kurt's back, trying to focus on his stroking hand and the tight heat around one finger first, then two. He took forever with careful slides and gentle stretches, with comforting touches and apologetic whispers against pale skin before he even tried adding the third finger, and then took forever more until the muffled sobs quieted and he felt the muscles yield and slowly relax around his fingers. Kurt was soft and terrified, so Blaine didn't even try for pleasure here – he'd settle for relative painlessness.

Of course, it wasn't painless – it couldn't be, not with Kurt so tense and scared. He flinched violently at the first gentle push, but when Blaine hesitated, he turned his head to beg, "Don't stop now. Whatever you do, please don't stop, I want it over as soon as possible. I can take it, just don't stop."

So Blaine had no choice but to proceed, no matter how much he wanted to call it off and just hold this boy in his arms till morning, tell him that help was on the way. He did his best against the desperately pained cries, muffled by the pillow, and focused on sliding slowly in, bit by tiny bit, stopping every inch or so to let Kurt accommodate and to whisper "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" again and again, and again. When he was finally all the way in, he stopped, relieved, only to realize that his face was wet with tears.

They stayed like this for a long while, Blaine stroking Kurt's tense shoulders and back until the fists clenched tightly in the tangled sheets relaxed and he heard a muffled "Go on. Do it."

He only took a dozen careful, slow slides – slides that made Kurt shake and whimper nonetheless – before deciding it was more than enough for proof and pulling out. Closing his eyes and focusing on some go-to fantasies, he jerked himself off quickly and without finesse until he felt his body tighten and release. The pulsing of his cock felt distant and unimportant – the orgasm didn't matter, it was simple physiology; what mattered was that it was done and there was evidence of their encounter now. He could get rid of the condom and focus on making it better.

Kurt was shaking all over, curled tightly on his side. His eyes were wet and clenched shut, a fist covering his mouth, only letting the ragged, hitching breaths around. There was such an aura of hurt and trauma radiating from him, such a closed-off feeling that Blaine was afraid to even touch him. He tried anyway, just Kurt's hand, approaching slowly like he would a terrified child, but the choked whimper Kurt let out as he curled up on himself even tighter was so full of fear that Blaine's heart shattered into even smaller pieces, impossible as it seemed.

He tried to speak to Kurt, quiet, gentle words, but only made himself feel like the worst monster imaginable, and finally he fled to the bathroom to throw up violently from sheer disgust with himself. He wondered if he could just stay there until morning, sitting on the floor, swaying, but the sense of responsibility wouldn't let him. He had broken this beautiful boy – no matter that it wasn't his choice. It was his doing, and it was his responsibility to make him better. Blaine looked around helplessly, his eyes falling on the oversized bathtub.

Oh.

Ten minutes later the bathroom was full of the soothing smell of lemon-scented bath foam, the lights turned down low, and Blaine went back to the room and sat on the bed. Kurt wasn't shaking so much anymore and his eyes were open, though still wet and looking at nothing. Blaine tried to talk to him again, his voice pleading.

"Kurt – I'm so sorry, you have no idea how much. But it's done. We're done, I won't hurt you again. Please let me help you feel better?" Kurt looked at him, and even with no other reaction, it was something. "I drew you a warm bath, it will help. Can I – will you let me carry you there?"

A tiny, barely perceptible nod made him exhale after what felt like forever, and he scooped Kurt into his arms. He may have been taller than Blaine, but it didn't matter – right now, he seemed small and fragile, utterly vulnerable. Blaine didn't let go of him as he stepped into the bathtub, cradling him against his chest, Kurt's head on his shoulder. Only after Blaine had settled in the warm foamy water, he gently sat Kurt in front of him. Kurt's body felt limp and boneless, and instead of moving away to the opposite end of the tub, he just melted against Blaine's chest, allowing himself to be held.

Slowly, very slowly, Kurt's ragged breathing became deeper and more regular in the soothing silence, and as Blaine smoothed his hands down his arms, he heard the boy murmur quietly.

"I'm fine. I'll be okay. You did what you had to do." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself just as much as Blaine, but at least he was getting back to himself. It had to be a good sign, right?

They didn't talk, but Kurt didn't move away or flinch when Blaine began stroking his chest in small, soothing circles. At Blaine's gentle prompting, he reached to clean himself of the lube, wincing slightly, and then let Blaine help him out of the tub and dry him with a large towel. When they got to the bed and under the covers, he turned into Blaine's embrace, as if burrowing for comfort, and Blaine's heart warmed with a painful squeeze.

They lay like this for a long time, lost in their respective thoughts, but then Blaine heard a quiet, "Matt?"

With a start, he remembered that was him. "Yeah?"

Kurt's eyes were full of tears and a desperate sort of hope. "Could you... do something?"

"Anything. What do you need?"

"I don't know. Something to make me stop reliving... that. In my head." His voice shook, and Blaine would do anything to erase that pain from his sea-colored eyes.

So he did his best. He touched and kissed, and whispered tender words into Kurt's smooth skin, showing him over and over that sex wasn't all bad, that his body could react in ways that made him want to moan and arch with pleasure. He spent hours of this terrible, desperate night writing apologies into every inch of Kurt's skin, until he was loose and thrumming with want. And then he undid him completely with lips on his cock, making him cry out in delight instead of pain and sigh tiredly before he burrowed into Blaine's chest and fell asleep.

He was the only one who got any sleep that night. Blaine lay awake, listening to every sound from the outside, praying for his team to get there already and take Kurt – take all of these kids – away from this house of horrors before another day passed and another night brought new clients and new suffering. He knew they had enough evidence now – with the GPS data, the questionnaire and Blaine's conversation with John, and most of all, Kurt's words about their rules and punishments, and the beaten up boy. It was only a matter of time. But every minute felt like too much.

Kurt woke up an hour before Blaine had to go; quiet, distant and sore, judging from the way he moved. He moved away from Blaine as soon as he was awake, any connection they had before gone in the light of the morning. There was nothing that kept Blaine here, apart from the need to put on his Matt-shaped mask to convince John how satisfied he was with Kurt's company. And it wasn't easy, with the guilt and self-hatred tearing at him already like a bloodthirsty hellhound.

He managed, of course. He had to, otherwise what they both went through tonight would be for nothing. So he apologized again and bid goodbye to Kurt, who answered only with a stiff nod, and left the room that would forever stay in his memory as a synonym of hell. The second he closed the door behind him, he schooled his face into a delighted, dreamy expression.

John was downstairs, in the lounge, and his eyes glinted when he saw Blaine practically bouncing down the stairs.

"Good morning! So I gather your sub turned out to be good?"

Blaine grinned widely and trilled. "Forget sub. He was a shy little virgin. It was like, an ultimate fantasy; he was perfect. I can't thank you enough." He sighed with the best approximation of bliss he could produce while nauseated, and John laughed.

"Well, I'm glad we could be of service. I hope you'll visit us again." A business card was tucked discreetly into his hand, and Blaine grinned.

"Only if I get to play with..." he yawned widely, "Toby again. He was everything I wanted and more."

He was so close to saying Kurt, fuck! He was on the verge of losing it. It was time to go.

John smiled indulgently. "Of course. Thank you for visiting, your car is ready. Send our best regards to Leo."

And just like that, it was over – at least for him, but that was all he could think about now. He spent the drive back to the tiny bistro in silence, and then took a cab to the headquarters, where he left all the equipment with the agent on duty, because his team was still out.

He went home, ignoring the texts from his boyfriend asking him how the secret mission went and if he was free tonight.

He shut the door.

And then he collapsed on the floor and finally let himself break down.

***

Back at the house, Kurt finished reporting the details of their encounter in dry, clipped words, the memory of John's rough fingers still radiating pain through his belly, more invasive than anything his client – Matt – did last night. The man was done looking around the suite, digging through trash, evidently satisfied and in a good mood. He hummed to himself, the happy sound making Kurt hate him even more where he thought it wasn't possible.

"And what was your impression of your client? How did he treat you?"

Kurt stopped to think a moment, choosing his words carefully. "He seemed satisfied. He praised me and was nice to me."

John chuckled unpleasantly. "The kid was a bigger softie than I thought. You lucked out. Don't get used to it, though, I'll find you a real man soon enough."

There was a loud crash from downstairs, followed by the sound of running feet and multiple voices.

"FBI!"