Kurt can’t even pretend he isn’t procrastinating the rare Friday night he has off and instead of calling Blaine he spends it watching the nature channel. But in his own defense, there hasn’t really been an opportune time to drop the bombshell on Blaine that he’s a prostitute.

First Kurt isn’t ready and then Blaine takes a trip with Jeremiah. Blaine calls it ‘let’s remember why we like each other and work on our communication’ and Kurt calls it the ‘lets forget that night you brained me with a wine bottle’ trip. Kurt’s particular secret is not something he wants to admit over the phone so Kurt was naturally forced to wait, and the waiting and holding off is just easier in the long run. So much so that time has ticked by them and weeks have come and gone and still Kurt can’t bring himself to do it. No matter how much the secrecy hurts the thought of losing Blaine is worse.

In the meanwhile Kurt has had to work, as he is still on thin ice with Sue. Maybe you can understand this and maybe you can’t, but just accepting that he’s going to tell Blaine one of these days has made Kurt’s job easier. Some of the pressure subsides. He is what he is, he likes it, and it’s almost 100% guaranteed that Blaine isn’t going to, so he might as well enjoy what he has because it’s looking like the only thing he’s going to have in a little while.

That might sound a bit bitter and very cynical to you (but if you haven’t guessed by now, those are things Kurt knows how to do a little too well). You should know that the vacation away seems to have done wonders for Blaine and Jeremiah. They’ve become disgustingly domestic, to the point where Jeremiah is around all the time, even when Kurt is over, and having to deal with Jeremiah’s smug superiority always puts Kurt on edge.

What does Jeremiah dislike about Kurt so much? The question is better put what doesn’t Jeremiah dislike about Kurt. Jeremiah doesn’t like the way Kurt dresses, the way he talks, the music he listens to, the lifestyle that he knows about (the work hard play harder image Kurt carries over from his pre-escorting days) and more understandably his close relationship with Blaine. Kurt on his most reasonable days can see how Jeremiah might be in a hard place with that one.

On the one hand he’s in love with Blaine and would like his undivided attention, and it really isn’t too much to ask of your partner to come first before their friends; even their best friends. On the other hand he can’t ask Blaine to choose which one of them he wants in his life more, as on a basic level it’s a bitchy thing to do. A guy deserves friends outside of his romantic relationship.

But the truth- the unpacked, closeted, and ignored ugly truth- of the matter is that Kurt and Blaine don’t operate like most friends. They have always danced wild in a shadowy in between, and the question remains unasked. If Blaine had to choose.

Jeremiah and Kurt dislike each other and it’s not because they are opposite personalities.

So of course Kurt dislikes the way Jeremiah is around so much lately, but he absolutely abhors how intent he seems on ‘befriending’ him since his and Blaine’s return from Paris. They both know their personalities are like oil and water, and while Kurt can be polite for Blaine’s sake they both know they are only tolerating each other and that no amount of polite chit chat and phony smiles can change that. They used to just avoid having to hang out together. He has no idea what happened to their unspoken truce but he would prefer its return- and yes it’s because he misses having Blaine to himself.

As Blaine’s best friend he doesn’t think the desire is so damn unreasonable.

******************************

Kurt crawls out from underneath the covers of his bed and settles against the headboard. He can’t help his smile at how loose and languid his body feels. With all the stress of the past few months he’d forgotten how relaxing sex could be at times. He has been seeing Mark for over six months, but not because Sue found him for him. He’s Kurt’s accountant and as such he’s on the list of the few people who know what Kurt does for a living. It’s friendly, there’s no pressure and best of all Mark isn’t a client. He’s as close to a boyfriend Kurt has had in years but even better because there’s no expectations and no messy entanglements.

“How much do I owe you then?” Kurt asks breathlessly, laughing again. It’s funny. How often is Kurt the one asking that question after sex?

“Erm….shall we say $200?” Mark asks as he puts on his glasses from the nightstand.

“$200,” Kurt concurs, grabbing for his checkbook from where he’s left it by the bed, quickly scribbling his signature.

“Don’t forget to put 40% away from now on, so you don’t get a nasty shock in April.”

Kurt rolls his eyes as Mark repeats a lecture Kurt hears all too often from him, shoving the receipt inside his checkbook as he tosses it haphazardly back onto the nightstand. Mark verifies the details on the check, sighing heavily and for a moment he seems to be on another planet.

“Everything alright?” Kurt asks, a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I suppose,” he sighs again.

“You sure?”

Mark removes his glasses, looking at him seriously. “Sometimes there are things….that you do when….”

“You can tell me whatever you want,” Kurt promise sincerely, shifting in bed to move closer to him.

“There are things I think about,” Mark confesses intensely.

“Well you must share.” Kurt loves getting into the psyche of his sexual partners, he loves giving them what they’ve always feared they’ll be refused, what they’ve never dared to verbalise. It makes sex an incredibly freeing experience, quite the adventure.

“You’ve always been so nice to me.” Mark blushes.

“Of course I have. If it wasn’t for you I’d still be sobbing over a shoebox overflowing with receipts.” Kurt laughs.

“No. You see. I don’t want you to be nice to me,” he admits, his face darkening. Kurt stares for a moment, caught completely off guard. He hadn’t expected that.

He feels his eyebrows rise of their own accord. Well this could be very interesting.

***************************

That candid conversation with Mark is still playing in Kurt’s mind three days later as he and Blaine go for their weekly run along Riverside Drive. Now that its summer Kurt likes to exercise outside when he can and while it might be a bit inconvenient to run along Riverside the views are stunning and both of them enjoy the time outside and being together. Jeremiah prefers the gym so this is one of the few things he doesn’t join them on. Kurt loves their weekly run.

“Blaine, is Jeremiah in charge of your relationship?” Kurt asks as they jog.

“No one is in charge, Kurt. We’re partners, equals.” Blaine looks startled.

“Right, so you both decided that regardless of your perfect health you’re not going to eat any of the food you like, or even take a drink if the mood strikes you? You both decided it was okay for him to flip his shit if he finds you breaking any of these rules?” At Blaine’s darkening look Kurt relents. “Look Blaine I’m just saying that as far as power dynamic goes you....you...” Kurt struggles to find the words.

“I what Kurt?” Kurt can see the frown forming on Blaine’s face and tries to step carefully.

“You’re a worker bee Blaine, not the queen bee.” The tension eases as Blaine starts laughing disbelievingly. “I’m serious Blaine. You might be the bee that everyone sees, the one who makes the most noise but all of it’s work for the hive, for the queen and any honey you get you give to her and you’re happy about it.”

“Kurt-”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing but even our best qualities can be setbacks if we don’t have a balance. Did you know honey bees work themselves to death? It’s true, don’t laugh. They go into a honey making frenzy just before winter and it frays their wings until they can’t fly.”

“Okay then, as long as we’re going with the bee analogy here. Kurt you’re a queen bee, the biggest, undeniably special, and you draw people to you. Things happen around you and it’s great. But you’re stuck in the hive. You’re trapped by all of the buzzing of other bees telling you who you are and what you should or shouldn’t be and you’ve let it ground you and you can’t even see it. Get out of the hive Kurt get out of the hive.” Blaine is obviously teasing him, not taking the conversation seriously at all. Kurt sends him a whithering look but he just chuckles.

“I’m just saying it’s okay to keep some things for yourself sometimes,” he says.

“And I do.” Blaine insists. “What brought this up?”

“Well... I just started sleeping with this guy who’s quite into S&M,” Kurt tells him as if they’re chatting about the weather. He turns around, jogging on the spot as Blaine stops dead in his tracks, his confusion evident.

“What guy?” Kurt can tell by the look on his face that he’s dying to add ‘dare I ask’.

“Just this guy,” he replies as Blaine catches up to him. Kurt has always been honest with Blaine about when he is or isn’t sleeping with someone, just not that he’s getting paid for it. If no money exchanged hands then Kurt would be worshipped in the gay community for being the ultimate player but because it’s a transaction it’s suddenly completely different and he’s a whore.

That aside, he’d wondered how Blaine would take the information considering that not over a month ago they’d kissed... but then again considering how wonderful things seem to be between him and Jeremiah these days, Blaine has no right to be upset. He doesn’t appear to be. He’s not thrilled, and his expression looks pensive but it definitely isn’t dark or thunderous, which is good because he has no right to be anyway.

“Do I know him?”

“I doubt it.” Kurt answers immediately. “I’m honestly kind of nervous. Don’t get me wrong, I love a great bondage ensemble but actually doing it during sex. Is it just me? All that pain and paraphernalia, I don’t really get it.”

“I thought you were sleeping with that English guy?”

“I sleep with a lot of people, Blaine.” Kurt reminds him casually. This is no big revelation, hardly anything new. He doesn’t know why the discussion feels so off. They run in silence after that and Kurt is oddly relieved.

“Jesus you’re on form,” he pants a while later as they take a rest on a vacant bench, breaking into their water bottles. “You’re hardly breaking a sweat!”

“Yeah well I need to be in shape for next year,” Blaine responds idly, his eyes transfixed on some flyer stapled to the bench to mark the anniversary of the death of some poet Kurt’s never heard of.

“Why, what happens next year?” Kurt asks, taking a sip of his water.

Blaine turns to him, shielding his eyes from the sun. He smiles tentatively. And then shyly like he’s asking his crush to the prom he says, “I’m getting married.”

Kurt sits there stunned, his eyes and mouth wide open. For the first time in his life he is rendered well and truly speechless. His heart is beating ten to the dozen and he feels like all the breath has been knocked from his body; the silence lasts so long that he half expects the proverbial tumbleweed to roll past their feet.

“To Jeremiah?!” It’s a dumb question but oddly the only one he can think of.

“Of course to Jeremiah. Who else would I marry?” Blaine laughs, his face beaming and Kurt can see how damn happy he is, how bright his eyes have gotten and the way he says the word marry like it’s made of gold. Blaine is such a damn romantic, Kurt has always known this. Of course he loves the idea of white picket fences and fireplaces and dogs. Kurt smiles back and the stretch of it feels painful but he can’t do anything but attempt to give it; Blaine seems so happy.

“Wow. That’s...that’s...really wow Blaine.” He sounds like an idiot and he’s sure he looks like one too, grinning with all his teeth and stammering.

“I know. I can hardly believe it myself,” Blaine says, laughing with all the joy of a blushing bride and Kurt hugs him. Not because he’s at all happy but because he needs to compose himself and he doesn’t want Blaine to see.

One. Two. Three. Breathe.

This is okay. What really is he so upset about? It wasn’t like he was planning on marrying Blaine himself, and for all he knows they aren’t going to be friends that much longer anyway.

Even if by some miracle Blaine takes his confession well, he still has no plans on marrying Blaine-or even dating him because lets face it, Blaine might accept him as a friend once he knows but Blaine with all his white picket fences and church bells isn’t going to want to be with a whore- so chin up, and game face on, because it isn’t all that bad. This is actually better.

“You should have told me.” Kurt smiles easier this time. “I could have helped you pick out your rings.”

“Oh we’ve already picked them out together,” Blaine cheerfully explains.

Kurt’s brows furrow in confusion. It’s 9.30am. If Blaine proposed last night then how have they already had time to buy wedding bands?

“When did you propose?” Blaine looks away suddenly.

“It was in Paris.”

Scratch what I said before, now Kurt is speechless.

“Paris?!” He repeats in disbelief. “As in the whole ‘we need a weekend away to try and save our relationship Paris’? The trip that you booked the night after we kissed?” Blaine winces at the mention of the kiss and that is just that last straw for Kurt.

This is not okay. It isn’t better and he doesn't want to pretend like it is. He is angry, angrier than he has ever been in his entire life.

“You know it is Kurt, that’s the only time I’ve been to Paris,” Blaine answers quietly, clearly uncomfortable. This is the first time either of them have mentioned that kiss.

“That was over a month ago!” Kurt practically yells.

“It was a few weeks ago,” Blaine defends weakly.

“It was five weeks ago, that makes it over a month.” Kurt is not playing games here, he is not going to give Blaine any wiggle room, he puts him straight sternly. “How could you go five weeks without telling me you’re engaged?”

“Well you’re not exactly easy to track down these days,” Blaine points out.

“We’ve seen each other loads of times since you got back from Paris!” Kurt argues. “Not even Jeremiah said anything. I’m not stupid Blaine. You chose to keep this from me!”

“You really have no right to talk to me about keeping secrets!” Now Blaine is raising his voice as well, causing a group of tourists to turn around and stare. “Not when we both know there’s something huge you’re not telling me, and you say that you trust me but I haven’t seen you rushing to confide in me, so just stop, Kurt. Just stop. I don’t need to run everything by you. We haven’t been together for years, you can’t control me anymore!”

“Control you? You can’t eat or drink or hang out with your friends unsupervised and I’m the one controlling you?” Kurt’s voice actually lowers the angrier he gets. It’s soft and sharp cutting at Blaine deliberately.

“You don’t like him Kurt. You’ve made that really clear by now, but what you can’t face is that it’s not because of who he is. It’s but because of who he is to me.”

“Oh can’t I? Well as long as we’re on the subject, how about we talk about something you can’t face? Does he know that you were kissing me before you went skipping off to Paris?”

“Yes!” Blaine shouts, and then quieter says, “I realize how weak and silly you think I am Kurt but I want to make things work with Jeremiah. What I don’t want is to keep thinking about you every morning when I get up and still be thinking about you when I go to sleep. What I don’t want is to wake up beside you more upset over the fact that I can’t just stay with you than I am that I’ve just cheated on my boyfriend.”

Kurt can’t speak. He can’t do anything but stare and try not to shake and bite back tears because yes, finally that day has come. They are opening up that box and as always the truth lets out. Blaine is in love with him. Kurt has always known this.

“I told him and now he knows what everyone else does, that I’ve always belonged to you; but I just can’t anymore. Because it hurts, it hurts like hell, and as much as I love you I have to stop being in love with you. I want to be with someone... completely... forever, as long as he will have me.That Kurt, that is what I’m keeping for myself.”

You need to know why this is so important, why this sets Kurt’s whole world reeling and threatens to break everything apart. Kurt and Blaine have not always been together, but they have always been for each other. They know that deep in the lining of their hearts. They gravitate to each other, revolve around one another, and no matter what wrong they have done and said to each other in the past there has never been a moment where that has changed.

And now Blaine says ‘I can’t belong to you’ and Kurt’s world begins to dissolve around him.

You have to understand. He’s not weak and he’s not desperate. It isn’t hopelessness or depression that assails him. It’s complete and utter lostness. The lostness that only comes with having no idea which way is up, or down, or north, or south, because everything has suddenly changed on you. The lostness of finding yourself in new country. Lostness isn’t even a word but in this strange new world it carries the utmost meaning.

In moments such as these there is only one thing to do; hold desperately to what you know, keep yourself together, and hope that eventually the world around you becomes familiar. Survive. This is something Kurt is expert in.

“I think that you got engaged for the wrong reasons,” Kurt says softly after taking a deep breath. He sounds on the edge of tears but his eyes are strangely dry. He stands up. “And not because you aren’t right about us. You deserve to be in a whole relationship, to have those things you said you wanted and we both know I can’t give them to you.” Blaine opens his mouth but Kurt isn’t done.

“But he can’t either, Blaine. He hasn’t accepted who you are any more than you have.”

The words are coming out but Kurt doesn’t know from where, he doesn’t know what to do right now, doesn’t want to still be there.

“What is that supposed to mean? Just who am I supposed to be, Kurt?”

‘Mine’ He almost says it. He almost makes himself that pathetic, almost sets himself up for total rejection. He shakes his head and mumbles something like an apology and starts jogging off in the opposite direction; one of them has to leave before things escalate, before they can set themselves up for a fall.

This is not a movie, this is not Pretty f’ing Woman and no one marries a whore.

*******************************

Later that day he tries to forget about his argument with Blaine the way he always does, by throwing himself into work. After his weekly meeting with Sue he hangs back after the other boys leave to discuss Mark with someone a little more knowledgeable.

“You know I was a Dom for a while when I was a little younger than you. It’s my favorite sexual past time but you should know there’s not much money in it,” She explains frankly as she pours herself another cup of whatever putrid drink is brewing in her tea kettle.

“I’m not changing careers,” Kurt reassures her. “It’s just something I want to try out.”

“Ah I see. I should have seen this coming. A gals got to get her own in somewhere. In fact it’s perfectly understandable; do this job long enough and you just want to strangle someone without all those pesky police charges.”

“It’s not like that. I like him, he’s sweet. In fact he’s an accountant. He does my taxes.”

“Really?” Sue smirks with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Boy Porcelain, that’s one hefty end of year bonus.”

“I think he has wanted to ask me for a while,” Kurt explains as Sue mutters something to Becky who has come again to take the tea tray. “He’s shy. I don’t think he would look elsewhere. I want to help him.”

“Becky. Get me Sandy’s number,” Sue snaps at Becky’s retreating back. “Sandy is an old associate of mine. He runs a dungeon over in Queens, he’ll help you get your feet wet.”

“Great.” Kurt smiles in satisfaction.

“When you see him,” Sue continues once Becky has brought her the number. “Tell the bastard that despite your dough baby face you aren’t in fact an adolescent boy so he’s not to touch you. I would find it quite gross.”

**************************

“Good morning, can I take a few minutes of your time to talk to you about Jesus?”

“You must be Sandy,” Kurt laughs as he answers the door the day after his conversation with Sue to see an older looking guy (balding and with glasses) dressed head to toe in leather outside his door. An portly man in plain jeans and a t-shirt is standing behind him with his head bowed.

“And you must be Porcelain.” Sandy nods his head in answer.

Kurt leads them into the living room and before he can even properly introduce myself Sandy is barking orders at the other man as he attempts to sit on the settee.

“Excuse yourself! I don’t think so,” he sneers. “On the floor position one!”

The man immediately drops to his knees and pulls his t-shirt off his head. Sandy turns to face Kurt. “Pardon us. He’s not allowed to wear clothes indoors.”

“Oh don’t worry I’m used to it,” Kurt answers flippantly, waving his hand in ascent. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh I’d love a little sparkling water if you have it,” Sandy answers as he sits down on the couch with legs crossed, the other man now completely naked accept for a leather thong, kneeling with his head bowed once again and barely even breathing; the epitome of obedience. Kurt doesn’t find him particularly attractive but there’s definitely something appealing about the complete and utter control Sandy has over the man.

“It’s not a problem,” Kurt calls as he opens the fridge and grabs a bottle and a glass. An escort always has a well stocked fridge and drinks cabinet. Kurt gestures to the man on the floor. “What about…”

“Oh Ken won’t even look at you without my permission, let alone answer your question,” Sandy explains before adopting a louder, harsher tone. “Do you want something to drink pet?!”

“Yes master” the man answers immediately, his eyes never leaving the floor.

“Then you can drink out of the nice man’s toilet,” Sandy answers abruptly.

“Actually I’d rather he didn’t,” Kurt tells them quickly, amazed that the man is getting up to do exactly that. He’s just put bleach down and the last thing he needs is someone dying in his apartment. His life is out of control enough as it is.

“Sit!” Sandy shouts immediately causing Ken to resume his earlier position. Sandy flounces into the kitchen and fills a bowl of water and places it on the floor for the man to lap up like a dog.

“So tell me, Porcelain. Why not send your friend my way?” Sandy asks as he sits back down elegantly.

‘Because you might be insane’ Kurt thinks. “I’m curious,” he says instead.

“Wonderful. You know what they say. Curiosity. The first step to enlightenment.” Sandy smiles knowingly.

“I thought it killed the cat?”

“Porcelain, I like you. I like anyone with an open mind and clean shoes. But you have to know I take this job very seriously. Some people meditate, some people pray, and fetish is not something for escorts to retire to once their dicks have started to shrivel up. Every thing’s in working order isn’t it? I can check it for you.”

“I’m just fine thank you,” Kurt tells him in no uncertain terms.

“Oh well.” Sandy sighs sadly. “Then lets begin shall we.” He passes Kurt his empty glass before standing up and clapping his leather clad hands. He unhooks a riding crop from his belt.

“Alright pay attention, it breaks down into cross dress, role play, Japanese rope bondage, dog training, maid training, dildo training, slaves, feet and medical. But you’re just a beginner. Is your friend married?”

“Yeah. The wife doesn’t know,” Kurt adds as a last thought.

“Shame. All these secrets,” Sandy says with a sniff and Kurt stares at him startled. A small shiver passes down his spine.

“So…..how do I avoid leaving marks?” He asks hastily in hopes to stop the uncomfortable feeling that washes over him.

“How do I avoid leaving marks?” Sandy mimics aghast. “Kill yourself! You have to build up. Light spanking, light flogging, soft leather; this increases the circulation.” He smacks Ken’s ass rapidly. “Get it red, the fluid in the tissue acts as a cushion– far less likely to split or bruise. Then you can wind that bad boy up and go to town.”

Kurt actually feels sick as the spanking continues only to stop abruptly.

“Position two!” Of course Ken immediately complies, bending onto all fours.

“Avoid…and avoid.” Sandy explains, running the riding crop lightly over the two areas of Ken’s back with very little flesh. “Now get off the carpet – you disgust me!”

“Yes master,” Ken mumbles submissively as he stands up.

“Before we go any further can I use your little boys room?” Sandy asks politely.

“Yeah sure, it’s down the corridor on the right.”

As Sandy leaves Kurt sits on the couch, trying to digest everything he has just seen. He’s very aware of Ken still standing as still as a statue in front of him. He doesn’t look at Kurt or say anything; Kurt imagines that he wouldn’t dare. But it’s still unnerving, almost surreal.

“Slave! Wipe!” Kurt’s eyes almost pop out of his head as at Sandy’s yell Ken quickly trots off to the bathroom, and he can guess what he’s about to do. Suffice to say that Kurt decides that will not be happening with Mark. No one has had anything to do with his toilet habits since he was in diapers and he plans to keep it that way.

“That’s not a bad lark’s head,” Sandy praises fifteen minutes later as they sit at the table. He’s giving Kurt a crash course in the art of knots .

“How does the sex work?” Kurt asks almost as an after thought, there has been so much to take in that he’d almost forgotten to enquire about the main event.

Sandy looks down at him. “Well if you really want to be armatures I suppose you could fool around. I never have sex with my clients.”

“What, none at all?” Kurt must say he’s slightly shocked. “How do you know when you’re done?”

“My watch beeps. Porcelain, I’m a God to my clients. There’s no way I’d lower myself to let them touch me. No one gets to touch this. And besides, I’m a happily married man.”

Kurt is genuinely shocked by this. “Really? Does your husband know about what you do?”

“Well I hope so; our front room’s a dungeon.” They both burst out laughing, any remaining tension completely vanishing. Kurt is amazed at the idea that this admittedly strange man in front of him could be happily married when his job is something so unconventional like...escorting.

“Is he in the business?” Kurt asks.

“Oh, no, Oliver owns the cutest little specialty book shop, but he often sits during my sessions. He likes to dither about in the background; drinking coffee, reading the Times.”

“That must be nice, having someone to share it with.” Kurt muses out loud.

“Oh it is. I’ve always been such a stud, I know people didn’t think I’d ever settle down and then there was Oliver in his little bike shorts laying beneath the wheels of my car,” Sandy reminisces with a dreamy sigh. “And the best part is I can still work. Oliver writes horror novels in his spare time, and he says my work is great inspiration for his torture scenes. It’s wonderful being married to someone who understands you. And what you need to understand is that for a lot of men this is an incredibly freeing experience. It’s not him doing all these horrible, dirty things. Their master is making them do it - they have no choice.”

Kurt nods slowly. “I guess it must be nice; not having to make the decisions, not being the one in control, peaceful almost. And for you, it’s got to be a great feeling knowing that for a few hours at least one person belongs to you. That you can do anything and they’ll accept it.”

‘They’ll stay’ echos in Kurt’s mind.

Sandy smiles with what appears to be pride. “I think you’re ready.”

Kurt spends the rest of the day getting ready; he pays a visit to his regular sex shop, then a more specialised sex shop to purchase all the things he’s going to need. He’s aware that Blaine is trying to get in contact with him but he’s far too busy and to be honest he doesn’t really want to talk to him at the moment.

Before Mark arrives he moves the furniture out of the way in the front room so they’ve got more space. He hangs a blackout curtain at the window and covers the walls in black material to give the affect of a rudimentary dungeon and self-assembles a spanking bench and positions it in the middle of the room. He lights a few candles but otherwise turns out the lights, then he gets dressed.

Kurt knows how to rock leather (Kurt knows how to rock any material just give him unlimited funds and space) and he completely owns the skin tight pants and boots he’s wearing now. As Mark requested it’s all he’s wearing, but Kurt has taken some creative license and draped his whip around his neck like a decorative scarf.

To finish the look off he has applied plenty of dark eyeliner to make his already bright eyes brighter and added a little gloss to his lips. He views himself critically in the mirror. His skin looks pale and flawless as always, and the pants cling to his long legs and point out the trimness of his waist just the way he likes. Shirtless his broad chest and the surprising tone in his arms is at its best advantage. He looks good. He feels good. Kurt Hummel is back on top of things.

His phone beeps to let him know he has another message.

“Kurt, I’m sorry you’re upset. You have a right to be but this had to happen sooner or later. But we’re still friends and we have to work this out. Please call me.”

Kurt deletes Blaine’s message and closes his phone as he hears Mark knocking on the door; he’ll have to speak to Blaine eventually, he knows that, but not right now. Blaine’s not the only one who can do things for himself.

“Close the door,” Kurt demands as the accountant enters, handing Mark a leather thong that he’d picked up in the shop. “Clothes off, wear this. Kneel here.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?!” He barks at him, feeling a thrill as he catches the way Mark shivers in anticipation.

“Yes master!” Mark closes his eyes, trying to prevent himself from smiling in delight. They’ve worked everything out in advance; a script, a scenario, even the insults Kurt’s going to use have been agreed via e-mail. It doesn’t seem to make it any less thrilling for either of them.

“Hands behind your back,” Kurt tells him as they stand in front of some of his dining furniture. “Do as I say.”

As he sits down on the chair Kurt forces a bar gag into his mouth. Kurt ties Mark’s hands behind his back before removing the whip slowly from around his neck. He runs the smooth leather enticingly down Mark’s bare chest. The other man can’t help but moan as it brushes his sensitive nipples.

“You know it was very wrong of you,” Kurt whispers, bending down until his lips brush lightly against Mark’s naked flesh. “Trying to get away from me. You don’t like being imprisoned very much do you? You don’t like the way I torture you.”

Mark begs through the gag but it’s muffled.

“You’ll need to speak up love, I can’t hear you.”

“Please let me go!” The muffled pleas make something inside Kurt spark and he wonders at how similar it is to anger. He smiles at Mark.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’re my prisoner and I like you that way. You’re not going anywhere.”

Twenty minutes later Mark’s lying on the floor, just as they’d agreed on, as Kurt is straddling him and Mark’s arms are strapped to the chair legs. The boots Kurt wears have little spikes attached to them, not sharp enough to break the skin but he imagines they will smart when he uses them. Right now he is focusing on Mark’s nipples.

“Stop moving,” he instructs calmly.

“Sorry master,” Mark whines pathetically.

“I’m going to have to punish you, pet” Kurt warns him in a sing song voice as he adjusts one of Mark’s nipple clamps.

“No master. I don’t think I can take any more.” Mark sounds desperate and as much as Kurt’s head is swimming right now with strange feelings he doesn’t want to hurt Mark. Mark has his complete attention.

“Really?” He asks, falling out of character and looking down at him.

“Yes master, please stop,” he begs rather convincingly.

“Okay get up if you want,” Kurt says in his normal voice climbing off of him.

Mark pauses, clearly not wanting to break character but unsure of how to proceed. “No I’m a bad slave.”

“Yes you are,” Kurt agrees seriously before adding, “but if you want, you can just get up.”

He doesn’t really know what to do now, he doesn’t want to hurt him and having never done this before he’s not sure how to proceed. Then he remembers the advice from Sandy about safe words, and the system on which Mark and he agreed on during their correspondence. “Red, yellow or green?”

“Green,” Mark says immediately.

“Oh right, sorry” Kurt sighs, he pushes Mark roughly back down and swings his legs over his hips again and tightens the clamp on is right nipple.

“What shall I do next master?” Mark asks expectantly. His face is flushed and his erection presses up against Kurt where he sits over his thighs.

To that though Kurt doesn’t have an answer. He’s hesitant to move forward. While this is undeniably hot, it’s also strange and he’s not sure his reactions to it are quite what they should be. He feels compressed inside like a bomb just waiting to go off. He’s frightened at the stream of emotions that flow beneath his skin.

“Just a minute,” he tells Mark as he gets up and starts to trot to his bedroom, he turns back as he realises that Mark is probably waiting for another insult. “You disgust me!”

“Sandy it’s Porcelain.” He whispers moments later into his phone. “I’m...I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do next.”

Kurt hears him chuckle on the other end. “Do you have any housework that needs doing?”

Kurt can’t help but laugh; no wonder Sandy enjoys his job so much. “Yeah I could do that”. That sounds safe enough to Kurt.

Ten minutes later he’s reclining on his bed, reading and firing orders as Mark cleans wearing nothing but his leather thong. He doesn’t know why he does it, he’s not expecting calls from anyone except Blaine but his hands move as if they have a mind of their own.

You have seven new voice messages the automated service tells him as he logs into his voicemail. He skips the previous six and listens to the final message.

“Look you don’t want to be with me. You’ve made that pretty clear so you have no right to be in such a snit because I finally want to be with somebody else. You want to be an ass fine, but at least drop me a text and let me know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Kurt calls Blaine back immediately, pacing back and forth across his bedroom floor.

“You think I’m being an ass?” he asks before Blaine’s even finished saying hello.

“Well hello to you too stranger.”

“I’m not the one who was too scared to tell his best friend that he’s getting married. Six weeks ago you went to Paris!”

“It was five and for the last time Kurt this isn’t about you.”

“Don’t be a liar,” Kurt hisses. “We don’t lie to each other. You want to stop being in love with me fine! You want to skip off into the sunset with Jeremiah and adopt a couple of babies fine! But if that’s it, if that’s all there is to it, why couldn’t you tell me!”

“No, Kurt! I don’t lie to you. You have a lot of nerve asking me to be sorry I kept something from you when your entire life is a mystery to me! I’m not the one who has been hiding things, and I’m not the one who can’t share anything real about himself. I can’t even come around to your apartment anymore without there being some sort of crisis, and not once have you introduced me to any of your boyfriends or fuck buddies or whatever you want to call them. This is not how it works. You don’t get all of me while I get nothing of you. You want everything but you don’t give anything back, Kurt, and it’s over! You don’t get all of me anymore and you asking for it is incredibly selfish.”

Kurt slams the phone shut, absolutely furious. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him (you can’t when you do what he does) but when Blaine talks to him like that it cuts too deep. He feels like there is an earthquake in his guts, a volcano erupting inside.

He and Blaine are falling apart; losing each other. Turning away. It’s happening. It’s happening. Only it’s not like he thought. He can’t think, he can’t breathe as emotions so intense they clog his throat assail him.

Why? Why is this happening right now? Kurt hasn’t even told him...

And there. That’s the problem. He has been such a coward. He hasn’t told him the truth when he has known all along that sooner or later the secret would kill them. They’re dying anyway it seems because Blaine wants to marry someone else.

Kurt sinks to the floor and hugs his knees.

Someone else.

Heis the most selfish person on the planet because he doesn’t want to ever get married himself but he doesn’t want Blaine to do it either. He really is being a terrible friend and Blaine is right about it all. They can’t go 50/50 on this, it’s all or nothing. Unless...

Kurt is up and out the front door nearly a second later. He doesn’t bother explaining to Mark what he can barely explain to himself. What he knows is he can’t be that stupid. He won’t lose the best friend he has ever had because he’s too selfish to let him find happiness and too much of a coward to tell the truth.

Despite the fact that it’s late and dark outside he walks/runs the twenty five minutes to Blaine’s apartment. He curses the fact that he didn’t remember to grab his wallet before he left but it doesn’t stop him and he absolutely can’t turn back. Getting to Blaine and fixing the mess he has made is all that matters because if not his whole life, it certainly means the quality of it. He looks crazed he knows he does, he knows people are staring at him because yeah it might be summer and yes it’s New York but still, respectable people don’t run around shirtless in leather pants and spiked boots. He looks even crazier standing outside Blaine’s door and pounding on it.

“Blaine Anderson open this door! I am a hypocrite but at least I’m not a fucking coward!” After incessantly buzzing and then banging for what seems like an hour the door finally jerks open.

Jeremiah is standing on the other side. His eyes widen at Kurt’s appearance and Kurt can only be thankful he’s no longer wearing the whip. Then Jeremiah is scowling at him like he wants nothing more than to say something nasty but he keeps his voice clipped and polite as he speaks.

“Kurt are you out of your mind?”

“I’m sorry.” He really isn’t. “Is Blaine home?”

“You do know I was sleeping? While you may go out clubbing on a weeknight,” Jeremiah’s eyes rake over his attire once again, “I have to work in the morning. Goodnight Kurt.” The door shuts smartly on his face.

Kurt turns, feeling out of sorts and crushed again. He knows he can’t leave without telling Blaine the truth, he just can’t. The next thing he knows his phone is in his hand and he’s typing a text message.

Check out Porcelain at www.cheeriosescorts.biz/boys

His thumb hovers over the send button for a moment. He breathes deep. One. Two. Three.

And it’s done. It’s over.

Just then the elevator doors open down the hall and Blaine strolls out them carrying a bag from 7-11. Blaine stops mid stride and stares like he’s seen some sort of ghost.

Kurt is frozen at first, taking in his shorts and his t-shirt and the sleepy way his curls are mused and a tiny part of him wishes he were different, that he could be with Blaine completely, forever, as long as he will have him.

“Kurt, what are you doing here?” Blaine asks as Kurt walks toward him. His courage returns.

“I wanted to tell you that I forgot to say congratulations.” Blaine's eyes widen and Kurt goes on, “I’ve forgotten so much lately, like how to be a good friend and more importantly how much our friendship means to me. You were right Blaine. I’ve been so selfish with you. I just need you to know that I love you and that I’ve loved you for years but I just couldn’t be...I can’t be what you need me to be.” They are toe to toe now gazing at each other.

Kurt reaches for Blaine and leans down slightly to press his lips to his, quickly and tenderly. He doesn’t need Blaine to kiss him back. This is closure on everything that has come before. Kurt is shutting the door that Blaine’s kiss that night that seems so long ago opened up. He will never open it again, he will let Blaine find his happiness.

“We’re best friends. We always have been and that’s more important to me than anything,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to Blaine's. Blaine’s hands hover just over his waist as if they are afraid to settle there. Kurt understands. “Just please please remember that.”

As Kurt leaves he hears Blaine’s phone alerting him he has a text.

TBC