Sugar Baby

Eight

“So what’s the score between you and the big boss man?” Santana asked, crossing one long leg over the other and smirking at Kurt. “And don’t bother telling me the family friend story, I’m like a police dog, I’m practically trained to smell sex. You never hear about how much Trouty Mouth and Q were fucking in the early days, but I knew. They were like cats in heat.”

Kurt flushed and smiled luxuriously, wriggling in his chair. “We’re sleeping together,” he confided to the woman, whose eyes began to glint with mischief. “We have been since late October. He picked me up in a club in Lima.”

Santana whistled softly. “I know Blaine likes irritating Sam with his fifteen hundred rules and regulations about all of our private lives that Britt and I fuck up by getting papped making out on a regular basis, but sleeping with an underage kid and bringing him to New York for Christmas just takes the cake. You must look particularly pretty on your knees, sweetheart.”

Kurt smiled at the woman, whose attention was instantly distracted by Brittany calling, “’Tana, can you come over here and see how this move looks to you?” and rushed off with a wink and a, “Mama’s gotta get some, kid.” But the smile dropped as soon as she looked away, faked for her sake, and he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his body in tight to protect him from the world that had seemed so incredible, but was leaving him behind.

It was amazing to be able to meet and befriend and hang around these people he’d idolised since he’d barely begun to dream of performing - to more than his father, sat on his mother’s lap when he’d been just six years old and singing old songs with her in his high, clear little voice - when he’d reached eleven years old. But they were all adults. Even Brittany, the baby of the group, was eight years older than him at twenty-four, and Blaine, who’d brought him here, had gotten himself caught up in working and arguing with Sam over publicity meetings and interview schedules, and he had come out as little more than Blaine’s lover. There wasn’t much for him to do outside of their hotel room, and worst was that everyone, especially Santana, and even Blaine, who had been touching him and kissing him as an adult for the last two months, treated him as little more than a child. And Sebastian Smythe, who he had been enthralled to meet, remembering the many nights spent on his alone time with the voices of him, Noah Puckerman and Jeff Sterling playing in the background, kept smirking at him and every time he looked at Blaine his eyes positively smouldered with sheer raw want.

“Just ignore him,” came a soft voice, and he turned to see Quinn sliding neatly into Santana’s seat, flipping her hair back over one shoulder and flashing him a dazzling smile. “Sebastian, I mean. He’s a slimy little meerkat, and we all call him that behind his back. He’s trying to rile you up because he knows what’s going on between you and Blaine and he knows Blaine likes you more than he ever liked Mr. Simples.” She made the meerkat noise and Kurt smiled slightly, despite the cold settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Blaine and Sebastian...knew each other?” he asked softly, feeling the shaking start as he uncrossed his legs and turned to Quinn. “What happened between them, Quinn? Please, please tell me, I don’t want to worry whatever it was will start up again while I’m here. I want to be able to trust him.”

“Three years ago, when Sebastian first got signed with the label, he had slept with Blaine within the first week, and everyone knew about it,” Quinn explained, her gaze on Kurt concerned as he blinked hard, trying not to cry, imagining those hands all over Blaine, touching where he had touched, giving what he couldn’t. “They would do things every night, and loudly, but we didn’t tell anyone because of our contracts, and because we respect Blaine. They were hooking up for months before Rachel Berry, who was signed here at the time, told all to the press and there was an enormous scandal. She was fired, Sebastian held onto his job by the skin of his teeth and since then Blaine’s stayed far away from him, and hook-ups in general. Until he met you.” She laid her hand over Kurt’s. “Just, do me a favour, honey: please don’t give up your heart to him. He’s not someone a boy like you wants to fall in love with. You’ll only end up hurt.”

“I’m not going to fall in love with him,” Kurt assures her. “I knew what I was getting into when we first hooked up, and I’m not some sad, pathetic virgin who’ll fall in love during one night and completely believe frequent sex is like a monogamous relationship.”

Quinn gave him a soft, wistful smile and squeezed his hand as Brittany skipped over to them and sprang like a cat up onto the table, nearly knocking the bottle of lemonade Kurt had been drinking from as the adults around toasted each other and got a little tipsy and giggly and handsy with each other. “We should go shopping!” she declared. “We should take Kurt here shopping. For sexy things. Blaine’s Christmas present, I never know what to get him.”

“Personally I always think cufflinks and a bowtie is the way to go,” Quinn said, arching an eyebrow at Brittany, and her smirking and nodding girlfriend. “And not a teenaged lover in sexy lingerie handcuffed to the bed or whatever your perverted minds can come up with.”

“I believe your perverted mind came up with the idea of Kurt handcuffed to a bed in sexy lingerie,” Santana drawled with a smirk to Quinn, ruffling Kurt’s hair as if he was five years old. “What do you say, sweetheart? Wanna come with us and try on corsets and stockings in order to pleasure our partners?”

Kurt looked at the three women, and for a moment he wanted to say no, he was uncomfortable with such things, but they were treating him like an adult. The way he wanted to be treated. They were asking him to shop for lingerie with them, for adult partners, and they wanted him to join them. So he pinned a smile on his face and cheerfully said, “I would love to!”

Exhausted and stiff, but finally finished with his work until after the New Year, Blaine dragged himself up the stairs to his and Kurt’s room, hanging up his jacket on the hook just inside the door and running his hands through his hair, fully prepared to have a drink or two with Kurt, curl up in bed and sleep until morning at the new celebrations of Christmas Eve.

But he turned to the bed and found Kurt laying there, bathed in the soft light from a lamp with the shade tipped towards him, smiling alluringly at him. His eyes raked hungrily over the corset clinging to Kurt’s upper body, black and red against the porcelain of his skin and accentuating every curve, moving with the sinuous slide of his body as he stood up, smoothing his palms up his bare thighs. “So, what do you think?” he asked silkily, shrieking as Blaine grabbed him by the hips and pushed him back against the edge of the bed, following him as he fell backwards so they became a tangle of desperation and wanton lust, nails ripping into skin and kisses hard and sloppy.

Blaine didn’t hear a sound, but Kurt flipped them over in a surprising display of upper body strength, bracketing Blaine’s hips with his legs as he held up a pair of gleaming silver handcuffs with a tantalising smirk on his face. “You aren’t getting to be in control tonight, Mr. Anderson,” he breathed. Arousal like nothing he’d ever experienced before flooded over Blaine as Kurt pushed his wrists above his head and handcuffed him to the headboard, taking the little silver key and laying it on the nightstand, as he reached behind him to untie the corset, dropping the clothes onto the floor.

“You look amazing,” Blaine murmured, straining upwards to meet Kurt as he bent down for a short but deep kiss. “And you feel so good.” He threw his head back and groaned as Kurt lowered himself onto his cock.

“Better than Sebastian?” Kurt asked, and Blaine started, opening his eyes and looking up to see Kurt still, a hand clamped over his mouth, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Blaine, I...”

“Let me out,” Blaine ordered, and Kurt unlocked him quickly, getting off the bed and backing up against the wall, sliding down to the floor and swiping at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “Is this what this about? You being jealous of Sebastian?”

“Blaine, you’re...you’re a lot to me,” Kurt whispered. “There are other guys, but you’re the one who’s always there and always holds me and always makes me happy and I just...I can’t stand the thought of him being with you like I am.”

“I have history,” Blaine said shortly. “If you can’t cope with that, maybe you’re too young for this relationship.” He wrapped his robe around him and stormed out of the room, leaving Kurt sitting on the floor, looking devastated.