The day was incredibly slow. People passed by the boutique in droves, swept up in the hustle and bustle of New York in the middle of the week, in the middle of the day. On weekends the shop did okay, and Blaine was able to assist customers with a smile and pep in his step. He loved helping people, directing them to clothes or accessories he felt would accent them well. He didn't mind his job most days, especially having known the owner for years and developed a strong fondness for the middle-aged woman with more money than she knows what to do with.

The boutique was her pride and joy, and Blaine did his best to run it well, especially since Linda was always away on exotic vacations and trying to distract herself from the death of her husband and soulmate that occurred five years prior. She poured her soul into the products in that store, and despite the lack of cash flow in the shop, Linda demands that it keep running. Blaine understands-this shop was theirs, and giving it up would be like losing her husband all over again.

Blaine is supportive, gentle with Linda, who happened to be one of the kindest spirits that he had ever met in his twenty-one years.

However, on lifeless afternoons such as this, when Blaine has arranged and rearranged the boutique a hundred times over, the novelty of it wanes. He's sitting behind the counter with a copy of Vogue flipped open in front of him, his focus blurring and his cheek slowly plumping with the way it's sliding off the palm of the hand it's propped on, when the bell of the door sounds.

Blaine perks up immediately, standing up abruptly and pasting on a grin as the customer enters though the door. Blaine is gearing up to greet them when his words get caught in his throat, almost chokes on them.

The man is gorgeous. Probably in his early thirties. Lean, tall, pale, and the clothes and facial expression that are common in New York City- that dignified look that says I'm better than you and my expensive clothes prove that.

The man clears his throat, and that is when Blaine realizes he's been staring. He's just lucky his mouth wasn't hanging open.

"Hi!" Blaine pipes up at last, a little too enthusiastic from the sudden adrenaline rush, but he presses on. "How can I help you today, sir?" He flounces out from behind the counter to approach him, ensuring that he keeps a safe distance from the man so he doesn't do something stupid, like drop to his knees or mouth at his neck.

The corner of the man's mouth quirks up, and Blaine has known that look to mean he's pleased that someone has noticed their costly appearance. Prideful. "I've passed by this place several times, and I thought I'd stop by. I think it's absolutely adorable."

The man's voice is delicate, melodic, yet holds weight. It's beautiful, engaging, and Blaine wants to beg the man to speak more. Something tells him that with this man, it wouldn't take much prompting. Blaine's eyes slip from the pink of his lips down the creamy panes of his neck before they disappear underneath an artfully wrapped navy blue scarf that Blaine could spot as Valentino from a mile away. The accompanying Armani vest layered over a crisp white button-up fits snug around his torso-Blaine wants to rip it off, Giorgio be damned.

Blaine blinks, darting his eyes back up to meet the man's with a smile. "Well, feel free to look around. Dressing rooms are in the back. Let me know if there's anything in particular you're looking for and I'd be happy to help."

The man's lips twitch, but he nods and moves past Blaine without another word, heading straight to a rack of silk paisley scarves on display. Blaine's gaze follows the man of its own accord, gluing to the fine ass attached to the fine man, accentuated by tight Armani dress pants that match his vest, both in subtly shimmering light grey fabric. Perfection. Delectable perfection.

Blaine decides it's best if he puts as much space between them as possible, and he busies himself on the opposite side of the store, fiddling with the bangles and bracelets on the designated stands. The store is silent but for the low hum of standards playing from the boutique speakers. Blaine's palms start to sweat inexplicably, and he wipes them quickly on his pants.

"Excuse me?" Blaine hears and he turns to spot the man in front of a mirror outside the dressing stalls, modeling a pair of skinny jeans that he had most likely pulled on in the dressing room. His back was to the mirror, but his head was craned over his shoulder, and Blaine is positive he knows what he's inspecting.

His suspicions are confirmed when Blaine rushes over to the man. "Yes sir? What can I help you with?"

The words come out casual. "Does my ass look terrible in these jeans?"

Blaine swallows. "I...I'm not...You..." He stammers.

The man brings his head up to look at Blaine in front of him, a smirk firmly in place. "Honey, it's okay. You weren't exactly subtle when you were staring at my ass like the eighth world wonder. Which means I can trust your opinion."

Blaine's lips move, but words don't come out for a few second. "I...Your ass looks-you look just fine, sir. They complement you well."

Kurt's lips curve in a frown, twisting his neck to scrutinize his ass once more. "I don't know. Are you sure I don't look too flat?"

Blaine speaks up quicker this time. "Absolutely not, sir."

"Kurt."

Blaine's eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

"My name is Kurt, honey. I'm only "sir" in the bedroom sometimes," Kurt says, more glibly than Blaine could ever imagine, as if he were telling Blaine where he grew up or what his favorite restaurant was.

Blaine's throat dries up and his eyes fog over.

Kurt turns to the side to admire his ass from a different angle before saying, "No, you're right, they fill me out pretty nice." His eyes flick up to Blaine's and the man, Kurt, grins. "Sweetie, you're gonna catch flies if you keep that up."

Shit. This time his jaw was open. Blaine snaps it shut abruptly, muttering an apology with a blush burning his cheeks.

"Nothing to be sorry about, honey. You're adorable."

Blaine doesn't know what makes him say it, but it comes out much more forcefully than he intends. "I'm twenty-one!"

Kurt laughs, and it sounds like magic. "Congratulations."

Blaine has to consciously keep himself from pouting. "I mean I'm not adorable. I'm not a kid."

Kurt's face falls into an affectionate smile, almost as if he would coo at Blaine, like he was watching a baby playing with toys. It makes Blaine uncomfortable. "Oh, you most certainly aren't, honey. I didn't think you were. In fact, I'm surprised that you don't have a hunky man to go home to, judging by how openly you're trying to undress me with your eyes."

Blaine stares at his feet. "I'm sorry. I'm really shit at this kind of thing."

"Au contraire, my self-esteem has never been higher." Kurt smiles.

Blaine holds out his hand. "I'm Blaine."

Kurt takes it without further prompting, gripping it firmly. "Well it's very nice to meet you, Blaine." Kurt slides his hand from Blaine's and Blaine instantly misses the contact.

"So..." Blaine starts, his hands childishly sliding into his pockets while he locks his elbows straight. The smirk comes easier than he expects on Blaine's lips. "Do you need some help getting those off, or..."

Kurt's laughter is loud and Blaine fights to not let that get to him. "Thank you for your...um...consideration, but I think I can manage."

Blaine had figured as much. He simply nods, rocking back onto his heels a few times. "You should get them, though. They really do look great on you."

Kurt preens, running his hands down his ass and cupping. "Thank you, Blaine. I think I will."

Blaine rings the pants up at the register after Kurt has changed back into his slacks, and Kurt thanks him again luxuriously before leaving the store. Something flutters to the floor when he pulls a hand out of his pocket to push open the door. Blaine calls out as the door drifts closed behind Kurt, "Hey, Kurt, you dropped-!" but Kurt looks back at Blaine through the glass window of the boutique and winks before moving out of sight with a broad smile on his lips.

Blaine stares quizzically at what appears to just be a plain scrap of paper and scurries over to it. When he picks it up, he sees the black markings.

Meet me tomorrow, the Starbucks on 2nd at noon. Tell no one.

***

"You're very prompt."

Blaine's cheeks redden as he slips into the chair across from Kurt. His hair swoops upwards, practically defying physics altogether, and his legs are crossed primly. He's just as impeccably dressed as he was yesterday, smells just as incredible and is enhanced by the swirling smell of coffee wafting in the air.

"I'm impressed. Twelve o' clock on the dot."

"Only because I've been waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes and trying not to look eager." Blaine admits bashfully, glancing up at Kurt from beneath his lashes.

And it's completely true. Blaine had paced back and forth along the street until he saw Kurt, and he ducked into the alley neighboring the coffee shop and waited for Kurt to enter before he followed. It was the nerves. He'd gotten there much earlier than he had planned, only realizing afterward how terribly desperate that was, and bailed out. So instead, he aimed for promptness.

Except apparently now he's going for bluntness.

"Ok, I know you said you weren't adorable, but you are adorable," Kurt says, laughing breathily.

Blaine scowls. "What did you ask me here for anyway?"

Kurt looks at Blaine as if it's obvious. "For a date, silly."

Blaine's eyes widen considerably. "A date?"

Kurt nods slowly, smiling. "That's what big people do sometimes."

"Shut up," Blaine chuckles. "I'm just...I don't know. Shocked. You seemed decidedly uninterested in me yesterday."

"What can I say? I'm a man of mystery." Kurt tilts his mouth impishly, and Blaine's stomach twists in knots with how much he wants.

"How old are you?" Blaine finds himself asking.

Kurt answers without hesitation, seeming like another point of pride for him. "Thirty-two."

"That's super hot," Blaine blurts out, and Kurt muffles a laugh behind curled fingers. His left hand, Blaine notes. Ringless. A good sign.

"I'm glad you think so. Because I happen to find you pretty hot yourself. Strutting around your little boutique. And the whole age thing? Definitely does it for me."

"I guessed that," Blaine says, his lips curling mischievously as he tacks on, "Sir."

Kurt grins as he brings a leg up, setting his foot flat on his chair and rests his wrist on it laxly. "Jesus, you're panting for it, aren't you honey?"

"Oh you don't want to hear the hundred fantasies that went through my head last night that starred you," He plays along, teasing. Blaine is good at this part. He's good at teasing.

"I'm sure I can imagine," Kurt replies. He looks like he's thinking a moment, and then he stands up, pushing his chair back. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Blaine asks, but follows him, bewildered, out the door anyway.

"My place." Kurt answers simply. "Any objections?"

Blaine nearly falls on his face with how he trips over himself. "None whatsoever."

***

The moment Kurt shuts the door behind him his lips are on Blaine's. It's harsh and aggressive and one of the sexiest things Blaine has ever experienced, and before Blaine can process it all he's being led straight through the apartment and into a bedroom without even getting to glance around. Though honestly, Kurt is the only thing Blaine could give a shit about looking at anyway.

He's shoved onto the bed without ceremony and he watches as Kurt crawls hungrily toward him, looking like he wants to devour Blaine. And fuck, Blaine wants him to. Blaine's pants are shucked off his legs in seconds by the older man, and the rest of their clothes follow in suit, interspersed with wet, sucking kisses that leave Blaine panting and moaning into Kurt's mouth.

Kurt yanks open a side table drawer and pulls out lube and a condom before pushing it closed again. "You good with bottom, sweetie?"

Blaine nods frantically. "Yeah. Hell yeah."

"Good." Kurt grips Blaine's thigh firmly and pulls, and Blaine flops onto his stomach, hardly catching his breath before Kurt wraps an arm low on his waist and hauls his ass up into the air. "Fuck, your ass is perfect, baby."

'Then fuck it already," Blaine laughs breathily, looking back at Kurt with a grin.

"I fully intend to. Spread your legs a little." Blaine complies, sliding his knees apart on the mattress and feeling Kurt's thighs scoot into the space between. "Just like that, baby. Perfect."

Two cold, wet fingers trace circles around Blaine's entrance, and Blaine shivers but leans back anyway. He needs something of this man inside of him as soon as humanly possible before he explodes. He whimpers out a small "Please", that burgeons into a moan when Kurt slips one finger in to the first knuckle. "Come on, I can take more. Just-all of it, come on."

Kurt chuckles as he grips one of Blaine's cheeks with his free hand and spreads it open to get a better view. "So young and eager. I think I could get used to you." Kurt obliges, his finger slipping deeper until the webbing between his fingers tickles at Blaine's rim. Those words-I could get used to you-Blaine feels like he's going to overflow. That maybe...maybe this won't be a one-time thing.

Being filled like this-even just one finger-is incredible. Blaine hasn't gotten laid in god knows how long, and having someone else's finger inside of him is like his own personal heaven. And the fact that this man is experienced just makes it a thousand times better. This man is so much older, wiser, sexier than any other man Blaine has been with. A part of him feels insecure about it, despite being far from a virgin; however, Kurt making it clear that he revels in Blaine's youth makes it worthwhile, less self-conscious.

So he lets himself be loud when Kurt begins fucking that one finger inside of him to start loosening him up. And he lets himself beg for a second until Kurt takes pity on him and adds another, smoothly fucking them in and out as Blaine's knees gradually slip wider and wider on the bed to accommodate them.

"Christ you take it well, don't you baby? So fucking good at taking my fingers. Can't wait to see how you suck up my cock," Kurt indulges, and the words only make Blaine moan more. He stretches a hand back to help Kurt, grasping his other ass cheek and pulling it open as he thrusts back onto Kurt's fingers shamelessly.

"God, three, I'm ready, come on."

Kurt bites a wet kiss into the flesh of his ass before removing his fingers to add more lube, but wastes no time in shoving back in with three this time-and now the stretch is incredible. It hurts, burns, but in just the way Blaine loves it, so he doesn't complain. He whines with it, continuing to fuck backwards as his fingers slip from his cheek and repositioning himself up onto his forearms to hold himself up.

Kurt doesn't spend much time with the three, just stretching him open enough to take it easy before tearing open the condom and prepping his cock. Blaine's mind is overwhelmed with how well this man seems to know him, know his kinks without having spent any time with him at all. Kurt is extraordinary, a fuckable wonder, and Blaine wants him for his own. He's still not sure if this is a one-night-stand kind of thing or a fuck-buddies thing or if Kurt is actually interested in Blaine as a potential partner.

Blaine doesn't let himself linger on that last one. They hardly know each other, but Blaine is astute enough to recognize that Kurt isn't going to throw away his life on some twenty-something twink when he could have someone older and more experienced than he is.

And that's okay, because Blaine is perfectly content to just be underneath this man for as long as Kurt will let him. He's okay with being a fuck toy as long as Kurt just keeps doing everything he's doing right now.

Then Kurt is pressing the head of his cock to Blaine's hole, and he's trying his best not to coil and tense up in excited anticipation. "Put it in, put it in, please! Put your cock in me, Kurt," Blaine cries, arching his back to raise his ass higher and entice him.

"God, you are positively the most delectable creature I've ever had my cock against, Blaine," Kurt marvels. Those words have Blaine brimming with pride, licking his lips as he thrusts back softly as feels Kurt's cock press and sink in against his waiting hole. The moment his cock breaches his hole, a relieved gasp leaves Blaine's mouth, his breath hitching as Kurt keeps pushing in without stopping.

"Ohhh god, Kurt. Yes, keep going. Bury it in me, make me take it."

Kurt moans loudly, gripping Blaine's hips tightly in his fingers. "Jesus, Blaine, you are so fucking hot. Open up for my cock," He commands, and Blaine does. He groans and takes it until he feels Kurt's hips flush against his ass and Kurt's hands smooth up his back until they hook over Blaine's shoulders possessively.

Blaine feels so overwrought in the most amazing way. Kurt is everywhere, smothering him and filling him so fucking well that is makes him shake. His ass stretches artfully around Kurt's cock, and he wishes he could see it.

"Mmm you want me to take a little video, baby?" Kurt croons as he thrusts leisurely inside of him and...right Blaine must have said that out loud.

Blaine finds himself saying, "Yes, god, please. I want...I want to see how you fill me so bad." Blaine has never before considered making a sex tape. He's had good sex, had mind-blowing sex partners, but...Blaine just wants to remember this in case it never happens again. Kurt is...Kurt is ephemeral. Ethereal. Almost like vapor, like he'll slip right through his fingers. And he'll do anything to solidify this experience.

"Where's your phone, sweetie?" Kurt asks, massaging his ass cheeks in his broad hands as he fucks smoothly into Blaine.

"Christ-pocket of my jeans. Left pocket."

Kurt begins to pull out slowly, but then grabs one of Blaine's hands roughly and pulls it back to where Kurt is filling him. "Keep yourself open with your fingers, baby. Nice and open for me." Blaine whimpers, but obeys, and as soon as Kurt's cock is clear from his ass, he replaces it with three fingers, sliding them as deep as he can from his position which is only to about the second knuckle.

Regardless, Kurt moans at the sight of it, "God, that's so gorgeous baby. Hold it open just like that while I get your phone."

Blaine has no problem following his orders, and he starts to fuck them shallowly in his ass as he watches Kurt's flawless, naked body pilfer through his jeans until he retrieves his phone. He holds it up triumphantly for a moment and Blaine grins as Kurt winks at him. Kurt spends a moment navigating until he seems satisfied, having found the camera.

Kneeling back onto the bed, Kurt whispers, "Aaaand, action!" and Blaine hears the tiny pinging noise that signifies that he's started recording. Kurt moves back behind Blaine, aiming the camera at Blaine's flushed ass. "Fuck, look how well you fill that ass with your fingers, baby. Can you fuck yourself for me?"

Blaine moans, thinking about how this is actually being recorded, but he's powerless to obey. He thrusts his fingers into himself again, gasping quietly at how good it feels, but secretly hoping that the microphone picks up the noise. Kurt's hand grips his ass again, squeezing and smoothing before swatting at him, completely out of the blue.

Blaine cries out at the prickling blow, following it up with a moan. "Please fuck me," Blaine whimpers.

Kurt apparently doesn't need telling twice, and he positions himself accordingly. Blaine tugs his fingers from his ass, and uses both of his hands to pull apart his ass cheeks for Kurt.

"What a good boy, baby. Keep those cheeks spread and let me at that pretty hole." Kurt keeps a hand on the phone, and Blaine watches as his eyes continually dart back to it to make sure the angle is right as Kurt pushes inside of him once more. Blaine moans again, maybe a little bit louder than he would have simply for the benefit of the camera, and keeps it up as Kurt begins fucking into him in earnest.

"Oh-oh fuck, please. Fuck me, fuck me harder, please."

Kurt growls, picking up his pace, and Blaine looks back to see the phone had been moved much closer to where Kurt is disappearing inside of him. Blaine is sure the picture will be jolty and the sound of their skin smacking together will be obscenely loud in playback, but all of that just makes Blaine want more. "Take it, baby, take it," Kurt demands through gritted teeth, and Blaine submits so willingly.

"Yes, fuck, take everything you give me. Need you to come on my ass," Blaine admits, thrusting back wildly as he feels his orgasm grow inside of him.

"Want me to paint that pretty ass, baby? Paint it white with my come?"

Blaine practically sobs with want as he gives his assent, readjusting his grip on his ass to make sure the camera has a clear shot.

"So fucking beautiful, baby. Tighten up your hole for me. Gonna come all over your pretty ass."

Kurt's thrusts become harsh, erratic, and his moans billow louder right before he finally pulls out of Blaine without warning, and Blaine whips his head around to see Kurt tearing off the condom and aiming the camera perfectly as he strokes at his cock rapidly for mere moments before Kurt is grunting his release all over Blaine's skin. Stripes of come land hot over his stretched asshole and on his red cheeks, a couple of strands splattering over Blaine's hands that religiously spread open his own ass.

Blaine hears a second pinging as the recording ends, and he doesn't have time to register exactly what it means in his head before Kurt is flipping him over with surety, the phone discarded on the mattress, as Kurt's hand closes hot and fast around Blaine's cock. It doesn't take more than a few strokes for Blaine to spill over Kurt's fist and keen into the thick air of the room, his hips jerking violently into Kurt's hand as he strokes him through it.

"Holy fucking hell," Kurt pants, wiping his hand up Blaine's chest and smearing his own come into his skin. "You're sending me that video."

Blaine can barely form a laugh as his breath slowly comes back to his lungs, but he is definitely able to smile. "Absolutely. I have a feeling it's going to get hours of play time when I'm alone."

Kurt's laugh is cherubic, elegant, as he falls down next to Blaine to catch his own breath.

*

Blaine is pulled from his post-sex reverie by the loud blaring of a ringtone that he doesn't recognize.

Kurt grumbles as he rolls out of the bed and snatches his phone up from his own discarded jeans. But the grumbling doesn't last long and is replaced with alarm very quickly when he sees the call screen. He points to Blaine and whispers harshly, "Keep your mouth shut and don't make a sound, understand?"

Blaine is confused, but he nods. Only after Blaine has agreed does Kurt answer the call.

"Hello? Hi, honey...I'm just fine, how are you?"

There's a longer silence, and Blaine can't hear what the other person is saying, but suddenly Kurt has an even more panicked look on his face, smacking a hand over his mouth. "Oh, oh you're coming home now? But you weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow! Oh that's great, honey!"

Kurt wheels around as he slaps a hand over the microphone of his phone, whispering hurriedly to Blaine, "Get dressed! Now!" before returning the phone to his ear. "Where are you now? Oh, already that close, you should have told me sooner!" Kurt says, a bit of hysteria creeping into his voice as he looks at Blaine again with intensity.

Blaine jumps up from the bed, not sure what's happening, but figuring someone is coming over that would not be happy to see Blaine at Kurt's apartment. He grabs at his clothes and starts pulling them on as quickly as he can, still keeping an ear on the conversation over the phone.

"Ok, sweetie, I'll see you in a couple minute then! Ok, bye!" Kurt jabs the "end call" button and chucks the phone on the bed and begins snatching up his clothes as well.

"Kurt, who the hell was that?" Blaine asks, tugging his shirt over his head.

Kurt doesn't answer, just says, "You need to get out of here, now." He zips up his pants and spins around frantically, searching for his button up, before finally spotting it and wrenching it on and doing it up at lightning speed. "And I mean like, right now."

"Okay, okay!" Blaine finds his second shoe and tugs it on, and he's finally fully dressed. Not a moment passes before Kurt is ushering him out the door and shoving Blaine's phone into his hand, a chorus of "go, go, go!" leaving his mouth. Blaine is so confused, feels so disoriented and rushed, but most of all disappointed. "Wait, Kurt, I don't even have your number!" He says as he clings to the frame of the front door.

Kurt looks at him desperately, peering into the hallway for a moment. "Kurt Hummel, Vogue headquarters, I'm not that hard to find, ok? Just go!" And then the door is slammed in his face, almost shutting on his fingers if Blaine hadn't removed them half a second prior.

He stares at the shut door for a moment, blinking wildly before turning to face the hallway. Blaine makes his way down the lavish hall to the elevator on the opposite end, and as he arrives the metal doors slide open to reveal a handsome, sharply dressed man. He's tall, about as tall as Kurt, with sleek auburn hair and pleasant laugh lines crevassed into his cheeks, and he's sporting a small suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other, his ring finger glinting with expensive gold-marriage material, then. Blaine can't help but think that's a bit of a shame, because he wouldn't mind fooling around with this stranger either. The man gives Blaine nothing more than a passing inclination of the head and a smile as he passes by him. Blaine smiles back in customary greeting, despite the strange array of madness flying around his head.

His curiosity gets the better of him, and he turns around to watch where the man goes. Unexpectedly, he stops in front of the door Blaine had just exited from. He doesn't knock, just enters. And the only thing Blaine hears before the door swings shut behind him is a cheerful, "Where's my sexy husband?"

And just like that, he feels like his insides drop into his stomach. And the last few minutes click into place.

Husband.

Kurt is married.

Blaine just fucked a married man.