“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Blaine mutters, pulling into a parking space right in front of his hotel room. He's late. Fifteen minutes late, to be exact.

And the man he's meeting at this sketchy roadside motel doesn't like to be kept waiting.

Blaine locks up his BMW and scans the parking lot, but there's no sign of the man's car anywhere. He heads toward the room, hoping that fifteen minutes wasn't enough to piss him off and leave. Blaine steals an extra second to straighten his dress shirt, checks his breath in his cupped hand, and then knocks on the door.

Silence. Seven seconds of silence and Blaine starts to curse some more.

Fuck. He did it. Pissed him off and left. This is the only time…

“Come in,” an aggravated voice calls.

Blaine sighs with a bit of relief. He didn't leave, but he's not deigning to answer the door which means he's still pissed off.

Blaine smirks. This still may work to his advantage.

Blaine slides his card key into the lock, jiggling it a bit to make the light turn green, then opens the lever knob.

The room is dark and Blaine likes it. It gives off the illusion of being classier than it is. Only a single streak of light from the arc sodium lamp outside illuminates anything in the room, and that one thing is Kurt.

Kurt – Blaine's favorite toy.

He's reclining back on the bed, dressed in something lacy and black, stockings on his legs pulled up to his thighs, patent leather platform heels strapped to his feet. Blaine can only see his cold, unimpressed eyes by the tip of the electronic cigarette he's carefully sucking from the end of, aerosol mist wafting up in a thin stream from the glowing end.

“You're late,” he says, mist creeping out around his lips and into the air.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine says, throwing the deadbolt on the door. “But it's only fifteen minutes.”

Kurt takes another suck off his cigarette.

“Blaine,” he says, swinging his long legs off the side of the bed and standing, “what time did we agree to meet here?”

“Eight o'clock,” Blaine answers, swallowing lightly as Kurt approaches, not entirely sure what he intends to do.

“And why do you meet me here?” Kurt grabs at Blaine's tie, winding his finger in the Windsor knot and tugging sharply to loosen it – a silent command for Blaine to undress.

“So you can be my little bitch for the evening?” Blaine replies, pulling his tie up over his head and tossing it aside, more confident now that he has the go ahead to undress.

That means Kurt is still willing to fuck him tonight.

“Every Tuesday night,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes and walking back to the bed to watch Blaine undress. “You know the drill. You act like I don't have anything else to do with my time.”

Blaine stares into Kurt eyes as he unbuttons his shirt, slipping each button through its hole slowly, purposefully eating up more of Kurt's time, hoping to rile him up a little more.

Kurt is a bit high-maintenance, but he's much more fun when he's annoyed.

“You know, those things will kill you,” Blaine says, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

Kurt sucks on his cigarette and blows a thin stream of vapor into the air.

“It's an electronic cigarette,” he says. “Relax. Besides, who do you think you are? My dad?”

“No…” Blaine says, slipping his belt out of the loops, folding it in half and snapping it across his open palm, “but that sounds like a good idea. You're being a very bad boy and you need to be spanked.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but his mouth pulls up in the corner.

“Kind of cliché,” he says, putting the cigarette carefully on the floor and reaching up to finish removing Blaine's pants, “but what the heck. It's your money.”

“But first…” Blaine doesn't have to say a word before Kurt is pulling down his briefs and taking his half-hard cock into his mouth. It's routine – a moment of tease before the session to come, to relax Blaine from a day filled with uptight musicians and know-it-all managers. The life of a musician is far from glamorous, especially at the independent level, but he has few complaints if this is his reward for not snapping and taking anyone out with a machete.

Blaine threads his fingers in Kurt's hair and pulls him in hard, shoving his cock down his throat until he just about gags, but Kurt is ready, and he can more than handle Blaine's length. But he puts his hands to Blaine's hips and pushes him away.

“Hey, watch the hair,” Kurt barks, climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees, wiggling his ass as he makes his way up to the pillows. He throws a look over his shoulder to make sure that Blaine follows.

“You eager to get this over with?” Blaine asks, licking his lips as he looks over the taut round globes of Kurt's ass.

“Like I said,” Kurt says, arching his back and spreading his legs wide, “you were late, and I've got things to do.”

Blaine pulls out a condom from his pants pocket. Trapping the edge of the gold foil square between his teeth and balancing with the belt in his hands, he crawls across the bed. He drops the belt by his knee and grabs Kurt's ass, slipping his fingers beneath the elastic edge of his satin panties and scraping Kurt's smooth skin roughly with his fingertips. Blaine grabs waistband and pulls them over Kurt's hips and down his legs, letting his nails scratch down Kurt's pale flesh. The sight of the obsidian plug stuck up Kurt's ass almost makes Blaine cum in an instant.

“Not willing to wait,” Blaine says, pulling on the end of the plug, letting it slide out just barely before shoving it back in Kurt's stretched hole.

“Hey, I have my needs, too,” Kurt moans, pushing his ass back, chasing the sensation of being full and stretched.

Blaine tears into the foil packet, his fingers fumbling with the condom when Kurt reaches back to play with his plug, moving it in and out, rolling his head on his shoulders. Moan after moan causes Blaine's fingers to slip, but he finally gets the condom fully rolled over his cock.

“Enough of that,” Blaine says, pulling the plug out gently and watching Kurt's hole clench to keep it in. He gives the plug a twist and it comes out completely. He eyes its girth with an appreciative smile and tosses it on the bed. He's eager to be inside Kurt's body, eager to be surrounded by his incredible heat, but he takes a moment to play, teasing Kurt's hole with his cock, dipping it inside till only his head fits and then leaving Kurt's body when Kurt tries to fuck himself back on it. Kurt whimpers, biting his lower lip to keep from begging for Blaine to take him, however he wants him.

He doesn't want to give in so easily.

But Blaine knows him – knows him from every Tuesday night meeting they've had for the past six months. Blaine knows just how to touch him, how to talk to him.

Blaine knows without words that Kurt wants him.

Blaine feels Kurt opening up for him and he takes full advantage, rushing forward, stretching Kurt over his cock.

“Does my little slut like that?” Blaine groans, slamming into Kurt's ass hard, grinning almost evilly when Kurt whines. “Does my little slut like my cock?”

Kurt's lower lip quivers as he tries to answer, but Blaine knows what he's doing, moving in and out of Kurt's body, sliding out slowly and hitting him back hard, stealing every breath from Kurt's lungs.

“If you don't want to answer my questions, I can always take my cock away,” Blaine teases, pulling out almost completely.

Kurt swallows, trying to find the words to respond.

“No!” he cries out, turning his head to catch Blaine's eyes. “No, don't do that. Please.”

Great, Kurt thinks. He's got me begging.

“Fine,” Blaine says, moving his hips forward and filling Kurt up again. “Now, tell daddy you're sorry for your sassy mouth.” Blaine picks up his belt and folds it, bringing the doubled leather down hard on Kurt's ass cheek – hard enough to make Kurt's flesh redden, hard enough to sting.

Kurt shakes his head in refusal, and groans when Blaine spanks him again, the belt raising a welt this time. The sight of it unleashes something wild in Blaine – something manic and unrestrained. He pounds into Kurt harder until Kurt cries out.

“Tell…me…you're…sorry…” Blaine demands, riding Kurt's ass until he can barely stay upright, his elbows buckling with every slap of Blaine's belt against his skin.

“I won't,” Kurt says, biting the pillow beneath his head to keep from moaning.

If Blaine knew how much Kurt actually enjoyed this, he might stop.

“Well, then maybe I won't let you cum then,” Blaine growls through clenched teeth, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock, fucking mostly into his own hand and offering Kurt very little.

“No,” Kurt groans, desperate for Blaine's cock, so close to cumming he wants to scream, “please. Don't do that…”

“Then say it.” Blaine moans to let Kurt know that he's close. “Tell daddy you're sorry.”

Kurt bites his lower lip until it almost bleeds, creeping back on his hands and knees to find Blaine's cock again, but Blaine puts a hand to the back of Kurt's neck and pushes him into the pillow.

“Alright,” Kurt groans. “I'm sorry.”

“Uh-uh,” Blaine says, holding Kurt tight. “Tell daddy you're sorry.”

Kurt pushes up against Blaine's hand, but in this position, Blaine's a bit stronger – he has a bit of leverage. Kurt snarls in frustration.

“Op, I'm almost there,” Blaine says, his voice breaking as he grunts into the air.

Kurt has no choice.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” Kurt whines in a childish voice.

“That's better,” Blaine says, moving an inch further inside Kurt's body. “Now, beg me to fuck you.”

Kurt sighs, squirming to be upright again.

“Fuck me, Bl---“

“Uh-uh,” Blaine cuts in.

“Fu---fuck me, daddy,” Kurt grumbles into his pillow, rewarded by only an inch more of Blaine's cock.

“What…what was that?” Blaine stammers, his voice fading the closer he gets to climaxing. “I couldn't quite hear you.”

“Urgh…Fuck me, daddy,” Kurt says loudly. “Please, fuck me.”

“Aw, you don't…you don't sound like you really want it…”

Kurt can't feel much more of Blaine's cock but his head along with Blaine's hips stuttering, shaking the bed beneath them.

Kurt takes a deep breath. Blaine is so close. He's got what he wants. Kurt refuses to leave this room until he gets his, too.

“Fuck me, daddy!” Kurt whimpers as sincerely as he can muster. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me…”

Blaine smiles, digging his fingers into Kurt's hips, sliding back completely into his tight heat. Blaine fucks the man in the black lace lingerie relentlessly, loving the way he bucks and writhes beneath him, his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted in what could be perceived as pain if Blaine didn't know it was ecstasy.

“That's it, slut,” Blaine murmurs, reaching around Kurt's body and grabbing his dick, stroking him urgently. “You want to cum for me, baby. I know you do. Tell your daddy you want to cum for him.”

“I want to cum for you, daddy,” Kurt moans without any hesitation.

“Well…b-baby's being s-so good…” Blaine strains to keep talking while he feels his body start to unravel, “I should…I should l-let you then…”

“Oh, yes, daddy,” Kurt replies without any prompting, stars exploding in the dark behind his eyelids as his orgasm rolls through him. “Yes, daddy, yes,” he manages to chant while he cums over Blaine's fist, thanking the great unknown universe that he had decided to stay instead of leaving like he intended.

Blaine cums soon after, and he cums hard. Something about taming Kurt this way, bending this strong-willed man, is as much a turn-on as Kurt's exceptional body and all the amazing things he can do with it.

“Jesus Christ,” Blaine whispers, riding out the remainder of his orgasm buried deep inside Kurt's body. “God, you're so fucking hot.”

“Yeah,” Kurt pants, “that's why you come here every Tuesday night.” He waits for Blaine's body to still, then slides forward, slipping away from Blaine's grasp with a sudden desire to put some space between the two of them.

Blaine drops down on his side and wraps his arms around Kurt, cradling him close, placing light kisses on his neck. Kurt sighs and pulls away, leaving Blaine's embrace. He climbs off the bed, grabbing for his cigarette and his clothes.

“Wha---“ Blaine objects and Kurt shakes his head. He never learns. He never fucking learns.

“I've got to go.” Kurt kicks off his platforms and slips on a pair of jeans that have been waiting patiently for him on a chair in the corner.

“Just…five minutes,” Blaine begs, reaching out a hand to summon Kurt back to bed.

“I can't,” Kurt says, buttoning up his jeans and reaching for his shirt. “Like I said, I've got shit to do.”

“But…”

“You have shit to do, too,” Kurt says, pulling his shirt over his head, “remember?”

Blaine watches Kurt dress, gawking as he slips on a pair of grubby black Doc Marten boots, grabs his jacket and platforms, and heads for the door.

“See ya,” he says, tossing the jacket over one shoulder.

And just like that, Kurt is gone.

He's late…again…but Blaine is sure that the person waiting for him inside his house will be a little more forgiving. The lights in the living room window glow warm and bright, welcoming him back to this place where he belongs. He fits the key in the lock and it slides in smoothly. He unlocks the door and opens it, careful not to make too much noise.

Blaine peeks his head around the door and smiles when he sees her.

“Hey,” Blaine says, locking the door behind him and heading for Rachel, sitting on the sofa with her feet up, flipping through the pages of Variety.

“You're late,” she says, but in a cheery, singsong way.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry,” he says with a genuine look of remorse. “How's the little nugget doing?” Blaine drops a kiss on her forehead, and she looks up at him with smiling eyes.

“Perfect as always,” she says, folding the paper back up and dropping it on the coffee table. “All wrapped up and in bed.”

“I'm going to go take a peek,” Blaine says, loosening his tie and hurrying off down the hall to the nursery.

The door is slightly ajar, and Blaine inches it open slowly so as not to wake his sleeping son. He enters the dark room, pausing a moment in the doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust, then walks up beside the man already leaning over the side of the crib.

“So, did you take the long way, or are you having trouble walking?” Kurt whispers. Blaine can hear the smile in his voice.

“I may have had a little trouble getting dressed,” Blaine admits, putting a hand on his husband's shoulder. “What about you?”

Kurt turns his eyes to Blaine's face and smirks.

“Don't worry about me, sweetheart,” he says, taking Blaine's hand and pulling him towards the door. “I can take anything you can dish out.”

“Still,” Blaine says, stepping out into the hall and watching Kurt close the nursery door, “I want to take a look at those welts after we shower.”

“It's a deal,” Kurt says, taking his husband's hand and heading back out to the living room where Rachel is putting her shoes on. “But seriously, if you're going to be late, you have to text me.”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine says. “I was getting into character.”

Kurt stops and turns to look Blaine in the eyes.

“God, it's disturbing how much you sounded like Rachel just then.”

“Sounded like me what?” Rachel asks, speaking up and reminding them that there's another person in the room.

“Uh, Blaine was just explaining to me his…process,” Kurt says, “for when he's performing.”

“Ah, yes.” Rachel nods. “My process is like a religion. So, where did you guys go tonight?” She shrugs on her coat and side-eyes them both.

They answer in unison – except differently.

“Movies…”

“Dinner…”

“We went to dinner, then the movies,” Blaine says, rushing in for the save.

“What movie?” Rachel asks, a secret smile playing across her lips as she wraps her scarf around her neck. If they thought they were fooling her for one second, they were wrong. She'd known about the whole prostitute role-playing thing from the first night she offered to babysit. Hell, when Kurt did that off-Broadway role in college, about the teenaged boy forced into prostitution after his parents disown him for being gay, it was all he could talk about. Did Kurt actually think that Rachel would forget?

“Hey, do you need a ride home?” Blaine asks, reaching for his coat and diverting the conversation.

“Nah,” she says. “Thanks, but I'm good.” She slips on her Isotoners and hugs both men, one after the other. She wants so badly to prod at them some more, but she has a date of her own to get to.

Blaine opens the door for her, and with a small wave good-bye, watches her walk down the front walk. He closes the door and locks it, joining his husband by the window, watching their best friend walk down the street.

“I wish she'd let you drive her,” Kurt says with a sigh, closing the drapes when Rachel walks around the corner and out of sight.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, walking away from the window and dropping down on the sofa, moving over for Kurt to join him. Blaine puts an arm around Kurt's shoulder and hugs him, massaging his husband's scalp with circular strokes from his fingertips. “She knows,” he says after a moment of silence.

“Of course, she knows,” Kurt says, pinching his husband on the thigh. “You are the worst liar in history. Always have been.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees. “But you know what?” Blaine looks down at Kurt who looks back up at him with much different eyes than before. “Her knowing about it…it's kind of hot.”