'Wanna go out for something to eat?' Kurt said, so fast it sounded like 'wangooutforsomthinteat'. Blaine tried to formulate a sentence in his head, all he could think of was Kurt's glimmering eyes, and the way he bit his lip. Hard. He still couldn't think of anything to say, and the man's face was falling. 'Is that a no?' he asked timidly. Blaine shook his head, curls freed from his gel. 'Is that a yes?' he asked more confidently. Blaine shook his head again. Kurt looked really confused now.
'I mean, erm, would you, like to.. maybe, come to mine? For dinner?' Blaine said in a shy voice. Kurt's face split into a large grin, his nose scrunching up, and his eyes becoming smaller.
'I'd love to.'

********
Back at Blaine's house, they'd ordered a large pepperoni pizza to share, and cracked open a bottle of red wine that they were already 3 quarters of a way through.
'So, Blaine, nice place you got here.' Kurt observed. It was nice, the front room had pale, contoured colours and cushions.
'My bedroom's a whole lot nicer!' Blaine said. He blushed after he realised he'd said it out loud. That had sounded a whole lot less cheesy in his head. Kurt merely raised an eyebrow at him.
'I'm going to ignore that, since I hold my alcohol better than you! I'm changing the subject now,' he said, hiccuping a little. He was tipsy, but not as tipsy as the guy in front of him. 'So what do you do for a living?'
'Oh! I'm in a band! I play the base and take lead vocals!' he giggled. Much like a little girl. Kurt rolled his eyes.
'How's that going for you?'
'Not so great. I want to branch out and do some soft rock, maybe a little retro, y'know, seventies and eighties? Nick and Jeff want to stick to covering pop songs.' Blaine frowned. His bushy eyebrows scrunched together, and damnit, if that wasn't the most adorable thing ever to Kurt.
'What kind of pop songs do you do?' Kurt was generally curious. He loved seventies and eighties music, mainly because Finn listened to it and so did his dad.
'The usual, Bieber, ew by the way! Mainly British bands, though.' Blaine leaned forwards, as though to whisper a secret. 'Sugar Popper, come here!
'You know, my name is not actually Sugar Popper! It's Kurt!' though he leaned all the same.
'Kurt! It's pretty. Like in the Sound of Music. It's pretty! Not as pretty as your lips, though.'
Before Kurt could protest, Blaine had smashed his lips against his, and was moving them messily. Kurt took a few moments to kiss back, but when he did.. damn.

*******************
Blaine was kissing Kurt. He tasted like cherry lip balm, and slightly of the wine he'd had. The air was thick and heady. Blaine didn't know how he'd ended up kissing the gorgeous guy that had picked him up at a strip club, but holy hell it was totally worth it.

*******************
Blaine was twisting and swirling his tongue in Kurt's mouth, and Kurt wasn't no girl. He kissed back ferociously, listening to the moans the musician made at particular motions. Kurt found that if he worried Blaine's lip between his teeth, Blaine would shudder and press against him. He kept biting his lip, and Blaine ended up shoving the pizza across the table, taking Kurt by the wrists and roughly pulling him to his bedroom.
'You're right,' Kurt said, looking around the burgundy room. 'It's so much nicer in here.' he growled at Blaine, pushing him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he fell onto it. Blaine flipped them over, straddling Kurt's thighs.
'Now it's my turn to take control.'
Before anything could be said again, Blaine rolled his hips, pressing his hard cock into Kurt's.
'Christ, Blaine!' Kurt shouted. Blaine grinned and rolled them again, pushing harder and rolling faster. They were both rutting against each other, clothes being quickly discarded on the bed, and soon they were both in their underwear, Blaine in aubergine briefs, Kurt in a tiny thong..
'I've, I've never.. jesus.. slept with.. fuck.. a.. client.. shit! Before..' the stripper said, legs pressing into Blaine. Blaine just groaned in response, speeding his hips up into Kurt's cock. They kept up the pace, occasionally pressing harder and grinding into each other.
'Kurt.. Kurt.. stop! Stop!' the musician said. He pushed Kurt off, rolling them over so he was hovering over him. Kurt looked at him with confusion. '..I can't do this.' he whispered. Kurt looked at him again, mouth open. He shuffled off the bed, pulling on his clothes and shoes. The man on the bed leaned up on his elbows.
'Blaine..what's happening?' he said, in a broken voice.
Blaine said nothing, simply opening the door and leaving. Kurt heard the jingle of keys and the slam of a door.
Kurt Hummel had just been ditched. And he wasn't even in his own home.