Sugar Daddy

One

"Wanna dance, sugar?" Blaine looked up from his beer to see one of the night's glamorous drag queens standing over him, crimson lips parted in a manner she obviously thought was seductive, eyes lit with alcohol in an apparently alluring expression.

"Keep on walking," he said monotonously, arching an eyebrow at her. She pouted at him, but when it became clear he was not going to get up and dance, she flounced haughtily away, teetering drunkenly on her heels.

No one recognised him here, in the smoky darkness, rich with alcohol and primal lust. He was free to be a twenty-eight year old who didn't want to dance with any leather-clad bearded bikers or high-heeled drag queens, but rather looked for the answers to life's greatest mysteries, and who to sign next to his label, in the amber depths of his glass, smeared with fingerprints. The lights flashing and swirling overhead added to the ambience, with the beat shaking the floor and walls, and the young and not-so-young danced side-by-side, writhing and gyrating and beckoning with crooked fingers and heavy-lidded eyes.

"Hi there," came a soft voice to his left. "I know you don't want to dance with all these glamorous drag queens, but maybe you want to dance with me?" Blaine looked up from his glass to see the prettiest boy he'd ever seen standing before him, wrapped like an early Christmas present in a scuffed leather jacket and the tightest jeans, clinging to long legs and a perfect ass, shocking purple beneath the whirling beams of electric white.

Blaine raked his eyes over the innocent angel face, baby fat lingering around the cheeks and jaw, eyes holding all the innocence of someone who had never been exposed to the world, never had invisible scars carved into their heart, never had to survive six months on bread and noodles just to keep the rent paid as a unsigned and increasingly pessimistic musician. "How old are you, angel?" he asked softly.

"Twenty-one," the stranger chirped immediately, too quickly to be genuine, shifting nervously from foot to foot, eyes darting to the man working the bar, absorbed in conversation with a patron wearing sunglasses inside in late-night mid-October.

"I'm not going to tell on you to the bouncer, I left that sort of behaviour behind when my entire affair with one of my signed performers was spilled to the tabloids," Blaine said, trailing his fingers idly around the rim of his glass as he dragged his eyes slowly down the stranger's body, watching the flush rise in his cheeks, his pink tongue glide nervously over his lower lip. "How old are you really?"

"Sixteen," the stranger said in a low voice, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. "But I'm not exactly an innocent kid if that's what you've come here looking for. They call me a slut at school, I like to think of myself as constantly available for a bit of playing."

Blaine chuckled and took the hand the stranger offered. "I'm Blaine Anderson, but I'm sure you know that," he whispered as he drew the teenager onto the dance floor, seeing the light of recognition in the boy's eyes, his jaw drop slightly before he composed himself, smoothing his face back into the haughty, alluring expression, holding a lazy self-assurance that someone would find him attractive and grind with him on the floor and want to take him home at the end of the night. "And who exactly are you, apart from underage and constantly available for a bit of playing?"

"Kurt Hummel, commonly regarded as the boy who'll spread his legs for any guy who looks sideways, actually a lot choosier than gossip makes out," Kurt said, voice thick with the seduction swirling sinuously through each syllable. "And, Mr. Anderson, prestigious founder and owner of Warbler Records, named for your high school show choir who won four Nationals championships in a row while you were in your teenage years, I choose you."

Kurt slipped his arms around Blaine's neck, already breathing heavily, eyes darkening with instantaneous lust beneath the lights, hips beginning to move to the beat, slow and sinful and speeding Blaine's heart, electricity crackling beneath his skin, lust heating his blood to a boil as he wrapped his own arms around the teenager's waist, hands creeping down to rest where his back curved inward before the supple swell of his ass. It was perfect, without a promise of more than one night necessary, surrendering to carnal urges and rocking together to an electric beat imbibed with the lyrics dripping with want, pure sex and animal desires reflected in their sweat-slick skin and bodies pressed so close they were almost entwined, in the exchange of rapid heartbeats and the images of tangled legs and arms and tongues on silken sheets reflected in lust-blown pupils.

"Come home with me," Blaine breathed, kissing at the sensitive skin behind Kurt's ear as their tenth song came to an end, both of them panting raggedly and unsteady on their feet, lust taking over their minds and movements. "Spread your legs for me. I'm a lot better than any fumbling high school boy, that much I know."

"I don't doubt it," Kurt whispered, voice a little higher than it had been, nails digging into the back of Blaine's neck and leaving red crescents marked deep into the skin. "If your mastery of your hips while dancing is anything to go on, then I'm in for a wild night. And, of course, you are too. I'm even better than you've predicted." He raised his head slightly to capture Blaine's mouth in a searing kiss, clinging to him and swaying on his feet, breath escaping him in a hot, ragged gasp that parted around Blaine's lips before he dove straight back in as Blaine lifted him off his feet, carrying him out of the bar as slim, pale fingers scrabbled at his shirt in a desperate attempt to get it open, buttons popping off and flying away into the night as Blaine reached the side of the street, expertly flagging down a taxi as Kurt managed to open the top three buttons, latching onto the exposed skin and sucking a bruise into Blaine's chest.

"There's a large tip in it for you if you put up the partition and don't look back here," Blaine said hoarsely to the balding, beefy-necked driver, voice hitching as Kurt's sinful mouth sucked at his earlobe and the finger of one cool hand circled his nipple, a slow, teasing motion, just enough to have lust roughening his tone. The driver nodded and the black screen slid up as the taxi pulled smoothly away, leaving the pounding beat and the haze of lust and alcohol and the whirling lights behind.

Blaine lowered his mouth back to Kurt's, pressing him slowly down into the scuffed, patched leather of the seat, slipping the jacket off him to expose his lightly muscled arms and the sinful length of his neck, the peaked shape of his hard nipples clearly visible through the thin tank top he wore. He revelled in the breathless whimper torn from Kurt's lips as his hips bucked up into Blaine's, his legs twining around Blaine's hips as best they could in the limited space, desperate and fervently eager as he strained upwards, trying to press every inch of their bodies together, to entwined their tongues to the point where they could never be disentangled.

"You have reached your destination, now gimme my tip and get out of my car," came the gruff voice of the taxi driver, making both of them start out of their passionate embrace. Kurt squeaked slightly, eyes panicky, and grabbed his jacket from the floor, flushed crimson with embarrassment as Blaine climbed out of the car without an ounce of remorse for practically having clothed sex with a minor in the back seat, and handed over the fee plus a ten dollar tip that the driver stared at with greedy eyes before stuffing into his chest pocket.

Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand with a derisive laugh at the man that echoed through the cool, still night, pulling him into the dimly-lit foyer of his apartment building and punching the button to summon the elevator, slipping an arm around Kurt and sliding his hand down to squeeze his perfect ass, making the boy shudder against him, canting his hips against Blaine's thigh.

In the elevator, among the gilded bars and mirrors reflecting their entwined bodies from every angle, Blaine couldn't bring him to care the slightest bit about the security camera glaring reproachfully at them from the ceiling, the lights soft and warm over Kurt's features, softening them so he looked even like some sort of sinful cherub, a seductive fallen angel, picking the boy up with every little effort and pushing him back against a mirror, taking Kurt's hand and moulding them over his ass, smirking proudly over the boy's soft kiss before they were kissing again, still as desperate and pressing, twining tongues and hands groping at soft flesh.

They entered Blaine's apartment with sex flushes on their skin and racehorse shudders racking their bodies, the very air thick with a promise of potential, the walls echoing with the phantom screams and shrieked expletives and hitching moans of names and pleads for more both knew the other had been imagining, praying for, already thinking of jagged lines ripped into wanting flesh by sharp nails tearing desperately into the closest thing to cling to, of skin painted with slashes of bright white by the delicate art form of sex, of carnal desires ruling beyond all else around tangled bodies and slick skin.

"Clothes," Kurt panted out as Blaine took him in his arms again, kissing at his neck and shoulder as he backed them towards the bedroom, Kurt lifting his legs and wrapping them around Blaine, clinging tight and pushing his hips against Blaine's. "Now, Blaine, God, I need you so much, want you so bad."

"Likewise," Blaine said roughly, dragging the simple tank top over Kurt's head and dropping it by the bedroom door, choosing not to care about his own shirt and ripping it off, the buttons rattling over the floor as they skittered away, the material falling almost elegantly to the polished wooden floorboards as he roughly twisted the doorknob and shouldered the door violently open, tipping Kurt back onto the bed and watching his lithe body bounce on the mattress with hungry eyes, the way he looked, slim and pale and angelic, spread out like sin on the dark silk sheets with his wild hair and desperate eyes.

"So beautiful," Blaine breathed with a predatory edge to his words, unbuttoning his trousers beneath the heat of Kurt's gaze and sliding them off, standing over the beautiful boy in only his charcoal black briefs, crossing the room to crawl over him, pressing him deep into the plush mattress with the weight of his hips. "So sexy. No wonder all the boys want you." He felt Kurt's groan rumble in his chest as he skated his hands over the flushed skin, down to the button on his jeans. "Let me get these off, then spread those legs for me, sweetheart."

As soon as the jeans lay crumpled on the floor, Blaine turned back to Kurt, and felt his heart stop. His legs were spread wide, wider than he would have thought possible, his hands in his hair, hips arching up from the bed and soft groan issuing from between his swollen, bitten-red lips. Blaine's eyes were drawn immediately to his underwear, the blue material dark and wet, wetter than a dick could possibly get them. His inquisitive fingers dragged the briefs down the long legs that looked no less gorgeous bare than they had in the tight jeans that did so many wonders for Kurt's shape, and Kurt keened and rocked his hips into the air as Blaine's eyes took in Kurt's glistening pussy, flushed with arousal, fluid dripping down onto his sheets.

"Jesus," he breathed out weakly. "You're stunning. You look like porn, no wonder every boy in your school wants to fuck you, Christ." He reached out to touch, to massage over the bump of Kurt's clit, trailing his fingers through the clear juices and bringing a finger to his mouth as Kurt watched, sucking the fluid hungrily from his skin, cock growing impossibly harder at Kurt's whine over his actions.

Blaine's underwear was gone in an instant, and he knelt predatorily over Kurt, framing his face with his hands and leaning down to kiss him, planting a hand firmly against his abdomen to push down his hips, keeping them from straining up to give them both the friction they needed. He pulled back with a smirk, and felt his stomach jolt at the hungry look in Kurt's eyes where they were trained on his cock, flushed dark between his legs, his hands reaching out to touch and feel, mouth working as if he was imagining tasting, an image that dragged a groan roughly from Blaine's throat just thinking of Kurt's pretty pink lips around his cock, stretched and slick with saliva, his eyes looking innocently up as his tongue worked the sinful magic Blaine had felt exploring his mouth in the taxi.

"So greedy," he breathed, stroking his hand down Kurt's side, coaxing his legs to wrap around his waist and pressing them close, shuddering at the first wet slide of Kurt's pussy over his cock, Kurt mewling and writhing, nails clawing at Blaine's back, already slick and shiny with sweat. "So wet for me. Is this what you want, sweetheart? You want my cock in your tight little pussy? You want me pounding into you until you feel like you're splitting open?"

"Yes!" Kurt's scream echoed off the high ceiling, rebounding from wall to wall as he canted his hips into Blaine's, fluid dripping from his pussy and coating his thighs, slick over Blaine's cock, entwined bodies and sliding sweat and pounding hearts and helpless moans held between the silken sheets and strong wooden bedstead. "God, Blaine, I want you so bad, want you inside me, want you to make me scream."

"You want my fingers?" Blaine asked, voice pitched low and gravelly, gazing hungrily down at Kurt, a wolf staring on an innocent young boy lost in the woods. "Inside you, working you open, getting you ready to take my cock like the perfect little slut you are?"

He saw the shudder that ran over Kurt's body, his eyes swirling dark with barely a rim of blue-green around his smouldering pupils, skin flushed with want and lips wet from his repeated licking of his lips. He trailed his finger, wet with his own saliva, down Kurt's chest, kissing and blowing over the glistening trail he left to make Kurt shiver and moan, high and breathy, until he finally slid his finger up to knuckle into Kurt, adding another when Kurt screamed out for more, thrashing on the sheets.

When Blaine rolled the condom onto himself and slowly pushed into Kurt, he felt Kurt's nails rip into his back, blood seeping from the scratches, but he couldn't bring himself to care, enveloped in tight wet heat, surrounded by Kurt, the smell of sex heavy on the air and Kurt staring wide-eyed up at him, chest heaving with ever-hitching rough pants. The boy beneath him, pretty and innocent and pliable, screamed out when Blaine began to move his hips in shallow thrusts, begging for more and more until Blaine was fucking hard into him, the headboard banging against the wall and Kurt's screams and high, "Ah-ah-ah," with every thrust the only sound but for his own swearing and grunting as he canted his hips ever-faster, deep into Kurt, reaching a hand between them to massage Kurt's clit, trying to bring him close to topple over the edge as he gritted his teeth against the heat building in his gut, determined to stave off his own climax until he got to see Kurt fall into ecstasy.

And disappointed he was not. Flushed almost crimson, Kurt's eyes flew open, and he screamed so loud it seemed as if the sound would seep into the walls and remain there for all eternity, Blaine's name and half-words and garbled expletives, ripping Blaine's back to shreds as he came hot and wet around Blaine, muscles clenching around him to just the right side of painful as Blaine spilled into the condom with a guttural groan of Kurt's name and a drawn out declaration of fuck, collapsing on top of Kurt, sated and sweaty and sticky and so tired.

"That was amazing," Kurt whispered, awe-struck, the sex flush slowly fading from his skin as he kissed at Blaine's chest, nuzzling his face against the scratchy dark hair and pressing a finger almost curiously over a small brown nipple. "I've never come like that before." He looked innocently up at Blaine from beneath hair dark with sweat, wide-eyed and innocent as his face broke into a blindingly ecstatic smile. "You're amazing."

"Nice to know I can still keep up with a virile teenager," Blaine said softly, crawling down the bed to dispose of the condom and kissing his way up Kurt's thighs and belly and chest as he returned, finally reaching his lip for a slow, sated kiss. "Kurt, you were completely amazing. Honestly, the best fuck I've ever had. Never been with a screamer like you before, and God it's hot." He walked his fingers down Kurt's chest, seeing the sleepy smile on the teenager's face grow brighter. "Kurt, have you ever heard of the term 'sugar daddy'?"

Kurt blinked up at him a few times, then a naughty smile came over his face, eyes glinting with youthful mischief. "I have indeed," he whispered, sliding tantalisingly down the bed, wrapping cool fingers around Blaine's limp cock and beginning to pump him slowly back to full hardness. "But maybe a round two, or three, is on the cards? If I'm going to be your little slut, I should prove to you that I can use all of my holes to their full advantage."