A/N: Someone filled a prompt for me over at the Angst Meme, and I am now filling their prompt. Please heed the warnings. This is definitely R rated and deals with sensitive issues. I cleaned it up a little and the version on my Livejournal account borderlines NC-17. This version is definitely R.

This is slash. Characters include: Wes, Blaine, Kurt, Puck, and other canon characters.

Warnings: Language, Violence, Abuse, Drug Use, Sex (nothing extremely graphic). Dubcon/Noncon. Possible Triggers

Part One

Hate was a strong word and one Wesley Kim seldom used. There was a paper thin civility at Dalton Academy, one that required polite exchanges and a carefully construed façade of friendship. Everyone used everyone else and good friends were hard to find. The academic standards were high and extra-curricular activities were considered a privilege. Wes had more privileges than most as valedictorian and head of the Warblers.

In a sense, he had everything he ever wanted: money, power, popularity, excellent grades, a beautiful girlfriend, and a convenient lay. Wes absolutely hated it when one of those things went awry, because it threw a cog into the metaphorical wheel and then everything else turned to shit. It was safe to say that Wes hated Kurt Hummel. The slender, blue-eyed boy had not just thrown a cog into his wheel; he'd thrown a log.

An all-boys boarding school meant no girls, and even though Wes had a girlfriend, she was pretty much unavailable since she lived in Chicago. Every eighteen year old boy had needs. Wes was no exception. Sex relieved the constant pressure he faced from both school and his family. For the last year, Wes had slept with Blaine whenever he needed a release. In return, Blaine got solos and popularity, and the Warblers sang the songs he suggested. The arrangement benefitted both boys.

Suddenly, Blaine wasn't so willing to put out anymore. Wes knew why: Kurt Hummel. The kid already had Blaine wrapped around his little finger, and Wes didn't like it at all. Before, Wes would just look at Blaine and they'd be in his room during lunch. Blaine ate lunch with Kurt and Nick now, eager for Kurt's attention and sweet, innocent smile.

It was disgusting. Wes knew he needed to remedy this situation, and fast. Blaine had avoided him long enough. Wes lounged outside the younger teen's room, well aware he always came up to switch out books and folders before afternoon classes began. Like clockwork, Blaine hurried up the steps, a dopy smile plastered on his face. Wes roughly shoved him into the door and nipped at his ear.

"Wes," Blaine gasped, "I-I don't have time for this. I have to get to class."

"It's gym," Wes replied coldly, "Don't worry, I'll tell them you were helping me with my science project. No one will raise a fuss about it."

Wes gripped Blaine's arm and pulled him towards his room. No one would interrupt them there. Wes had a single room at the end of the hall. Blaine stopped once they arrived and nervously shuffled his feet. Wes opened the door and pushed him inside. The smaller teen tensed as he shut the door.

"What are you waiting for?"

It sounded colder than he meant it to be, but Wes didn't particularly care. Blaine obediently dropped to his knees. Wes smiled and ran his hands through the other boy's thick hair as he unzipped his pants.

Wes screwed Blaine hard and rough. Bruises and bite marks marred the shorter boy's pearly white skin. It was a cold reminder, but he needed to make sure Blaine didn't forget his place. There was no room for independence or fortitude in this relationship. Wes called the shots in their friendship and in bed. Blaine had a slight limp after their lunch time shenanigans and winced every time he sat down. No one seemed to notice, because the dark eyed boy was an excellent actor, and put on a show for everyone at Dalton. The broken, scared soloist hid behind a charming and polished mask.

Kurt Hummel held his head up high and stood his ground until he was the last one standing. Wes hated his attitude and biting sarcasm. Blaine used to reserve longing, soulful looks for him and now he stared at Kurt like he was the solution to all of his problems. Wes hated the countertenor's beautiful, soaring voice because he couldn't sing like that on the best day of his life and he knows Blaine can't either. The Warblers wanted to give Kurt a solo for Regionals even though he had yet to audition for one, and Wes had auditioned five times before anyone looked at him twice.

David absolutely adored Kurt and let the skinny boy give him a complete makeover for senior portraits. Suddenly every upperclassman at Dalton wanted fashion tips and somehow, Kurt became their resident Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Wes hated him a little more. For every clever tip and thoughtful song suggestion, Wes shot Kurt down with a cutting remark and a subtle criticism. Blaine didn't take criticism well—none of the Warblers did-but Kurt didn't seem to care at all. Wes hated his unconquerable spirit and determination. Blaine's courage was little more than false bravado and Kurt's bravery was genuine. Wes constantly nagged at him anyways out of spite if nothing else and made Blaine squirm, cry, and beg every afternoon for an entire week.

Kurt Hummel was a problem. Blaine grew closer to the younger boy each day despite the bruises covering his skin or the small, thoughtful gifts Wes gave him every day. The presents were simple and easily obtained in town: sheet music, a new chain for the pocket watch, guitar strings, cupcakes, and a pretty pink Orchid. Wes loved the awed and confused look on Blaine's face after he accepted the gifts. They had never exchanged anything except platitudes and sexual innuendos in private. Blaine smiled and got on his knees, finally eager again for a quick lay.

The Orchid signified a new beginning in their relationship. For the first time since they started having sex, Wes made love to Blaine at night instead of in the middle of the day. It was different and somehow, much more intimate than anything they had done before. They shared sweet, tender kisses. Wes touched Blaine in all the right places, but he came with Kurt's name on his lips. It stung more than it should have, because he was trying, and it still wasn't enough. Wes had taken Blaine's virginity. The other boy moaned underneath him and he knew stealing Kurt's innocence would solve the problem. Blaine belonged to Wes-and he always would.

Wes hacked the new kid's Hotmail account without a second thought and promptly decided he didn't have the energy to seduce Kurt Hummel. If the detailed emails the boy exchanged with Mercedes were anything to go by; the soprano sought heartfelt romance and a meaningful relationship. Flowers, dates, kissing, shopping trips, duets, and an eventual dance on prom night were laughable at best and completely ridiculous at worst. Wes leaned towards the latter rather than the former and grimaced as he read each email.

All Blaine required for happiness were some cheap gifts and tender gestures. Kurt mostly emailed girls: Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, and Carole. Occasionally someone named Finn sent misspelled questions. The nature of the messages lead Wes to believe Finn was a male. Dude, where are all your wigs? We're doing eighties' hair bands this week! I'm going as Bret Michaels-do you have any zebra headbands? He shook his head in disbelief at the nearly incoherent email and soon realized Finn was Kurt's brother.

Kurt Hummel needed a romantic distraction. Wes would pay someone to keep the younger boy occupied and away from Blaine. Fortunately, he knew a perfect candidate for the job: Noah Puckerman. The big teen had made his rounds around Westerville over the summer cleaning pools and frequently sold pot to the upper class kids that owned those pools. Puck slept with any available girls and if the rumors were true, a few boys when they offered him enough money.

Puck was an easy choice for a several reasons: he already knew Kurt, had an easy charm, a great body, and came from a broken home. Wes abandoned Kurt's emails and found as much information as he could on the Puckerman family. Puck had tried to steal an ATM and got sent to jail for a few weeks. After some careful digging, Wes discovered Nina Puckerman was a recovering alcoholic, a recently laid off pharmacist, and close to losing her home. Perfect.

Lima was a two hour drive from Westerville. On the following Saturday Wes ventured down to the small blue collar town. Sheets N' Things sat amongst big box stores and several generic restaurants. The store was filled with holiday shoppers and kids stealthily unfolding neat stacks of sheets. He rolled his eyes at the scene and searched for Noah Puckerman. A balding man wearing a hideous pink sweater and thin glasses undressed Puck with his eyes as he harassed him about thread counts.

"Excuse me, Mr. Puckerman," Wes politely interjected, "You helped me put together a splendid selection of sheets and light comforters for the guest house this summer. I was hoping you could help me out again."

"Yeah, sure," Puck frowned, "Mr. Ryerson-I'm sure Howard can help you—he's right over there by the art selections."

"I'll wait," the older man glared, "You are much more lovely than Mr. Bamboo."

Wes ignored the hateful from Mr. Ryerson and led Puck towards the azure colored sheets around the corner.

"Aren't you one of the Garglers from Dalton?" Puck asked as he shoved some sheets at him.

"Wesley Kim," He confirmed with a thin smile, "And yes, I'm one of the Warblers. I have a business proposition for you, Puck."

"I'm not selling you our set list for Regionals," Puck scowled, "Whenever we have it. I'm not selling any New Direction secrets, either."

"I don't want your set list," Wes sighed, "I want you to date Kurt Hummel-and I'll pay you to do it."

"Dude," Puck choked out, "I'm not gay."

"Really," Wes leaned closer and whispered into his ear, "That's not always true, is it-I heard all about your adventures in Scott Lee's boathouse this summer."

"H-he told you about that?" Puck blanched and his hands shook as he balled up the sheets in palpable horror.

"Western Ohio has a very tight-knit Korean community," Wes gloated, "Who do you think helped him make the tape?"

He didn't mention that Scott had never actually made a tape, but Puck needed to believe the lie.

Puck stumbled into the shelves and dropped the stack of sheets onto the floor.

"Don't worry," Wes smirked, "I'm not going to blackmail you with your secret porn. I just wanted to skip over the necessary denial and get to the chase."

The bigger teen stared at him distrustfully, but he kept silent. Puck was smarter than he looked. Wes couldn't have picked a better suitor for Kurt Hummel.

"About that business proposal," Wes began sincerely, "I heard your mother was having a hard time financially—I also heard she was a pharmacist. It just so happens I have an Uncle that works at St. Rita's. He's chief of medicine. Turns out they were looking for a pharmacist-and I knew just the applicant."

"How did you know that my mother was looking for work?" Puck demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"I have my ways," Wes said with a dismissive wave, "And it's a good thing I do, because your mother is now employed at St. Rita's-making twice the salary she did at her old job."

Puck's eyebrows shot up at the news. "No way," he said with disbelief, "My mom would have told me if she got an interview."

"It's true," Wes smiled, "She'll tell you tonight—I'm sure she just didn't want to get your hopes up that she found a job until she actually had it."

"So you're blackmailing me with this instead of a—"Puck's voice lowered, "porn tape?"

"I helped someone out," Wes said dryly, "And I'm not blackmailing you. Dalton has a strict honor code. If you reported my actions, I could get expelled. This is not my goal here. Like I said-I'm going to pay you to date Kurt Hummel. I merely thought helping your mother get a job would make you a little more willing."

The other boy was silent for a few minutes while he refolded the sheets. Wes grinned. The plan had worked. It was fortunate that his uncle's hospital needed a pharmacist, because it made manipulating Noah Puckerman so much easier-he was such a Mamma's boy.

"I don't want to hurt Kurt," Puck whispered, "He's my boy."

"I don't want you to hurt him either," Wes lied, "I just want you to date him. You don't have to do anything sexual. All you need to do is distract him for a while. That's it."

"Why are you doing this?" Puck sounded defeated. Excellent.

"Kurt's interested in someone at Dalton," Wes shrugged, "And the guy he's into is way out of his league—not to mention, a slut-he's got a thing for virgins. I'm very concerned."

"So you're trying to protect his virtue?" Puck asked, unconvinced. "Why don't you just tell Hummel about this guy's motives and be done with it? He's a smart kid—he wouldn't hook up with anyone like that."

"It's complicated," Wes answered carefully, "The social structure at Dalton is tricky-this guy is at the top of it. If I bad mouth him-then everyone would face the consequences."

"God forbid somebody ruffles your prissy feathers." Puck snapped grimly. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Fantastic," Wes beamed, "How does a thousand dollars a week sound?"