I've been suffering a serious case of writers block lately, so in order to get my groove back I started to fill a prompt over on the GKM. And here it is for you.

Blaine looked down at the I.D shaking slightly between his fingers. He could hear the thudding bass of the club reverberating through the walls and out onto the street. A few men in business suits passed him, looking both ways before entering the front entrance, clearly not wanting to be seen.

'I don't know about this…' Blaine started.

'Come on, Blaine.' His best friend, Sebastian, grinned and clapped him on the back. 'I know you're a blushing virgin, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy a show now, does it?'

'It doesn't even look like me.' Blaine mumbled, tilting the card, in an attempt to catch the light of the neon sign shining from above the door of the strip club Sebastian had all but forced him to.

'I paid a lot of money for that, and it took me a lot of effort. So stop complaining and enjoy your birthday present.'

Before he knew it Sebastian was dragging him towards the bouncer, handing over his own fake driver's license. They had been living in New York for almost a year now, both having graduated Dalton and gained acceptance to NYU. Blaine's parents had insisted on him moving into their apartment, stating no son of theirs would stay in a dorm, even if it were a single. Sebastian technically lived on campus, his parents, while just as wealthy as the Andersons, held no such reservations for dorm rooms. His father believed it would be "grounding" for his son to experience life without every privilege his parents so often handed him. However he spent most of his time in Blaine's spare bedroom, much to the delight of his roommate.

The bouncer looked expectantly at Blaine, who jolted slightly and extended a shaky hand. The large man barely looked at the plastic card before handing it over and nodding.

Blaine blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the club. The stage was lit up blue, spotlights roaming, occasionally catching on the half-naked man who appeared to be covered in glitter and upside down on the pole at center stage.

As he took in the sights Blaine was sure his swallow would have been audible if not for the loud music with a bass so heavy he could feel the vibrations in his chest. He could feel his shoes sticking to the floor with every step, the residue of thousands of spilt drinks. There were tables surrounding the stage, groups of men all angled to get the best view of the stage. The particularly eager ones were sitting at the bench that wrapped its way around the stage, reaching up to offer their singles and gain a second of the dancer's attention.

Sebastian headed straight to the bar with a confidence that only came from practice. He ordered two beers, handing one to Blaine.

'Happy Birthday, man!' He all but shouted as he tapped the neck of his bottle to Blaine's. Blaine smiled and took a rather large swig from his drink. He was going to need a little bit of liquid courage, something about the look in Sebastian's eye told him so.

They stood at the bar for a few moments, watching the current performer, who seemed to enjoy winking at his audience, before Sebastian put his beer back down on the bar top.

'I'll be right back. I just have to go find the rest of your birthday present.'

'What-' But before Blaine could get another word out he had disappeared into the dim of the club.

Blaine leant back against the bar, having ordered another drink, and attempted to enjoy the show. He could understand the appeal. The men were attractive, muscles rippling under tanned skin. And there was the way they moved, hips gyrating, twisting around sleek metal poles. He could see how people got off on this. But he couldn't push away the thought that these people, these men, were being paid. And that simple thought forced any possible arousal from him mind (or other areas).

He was singing quietly along to the current song blaring through the speakers when Sebastian reappeared in front on him. He was wearing a mischievous grin that Blaine had come to distrust.

'Come on.' He grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him through the crowd.

'Seb, what's going on?'

Sebastian stopped them in front of a black velvet curtain that hung from the ceiling to the floor in the back corner of the club. Glitter seemed to have become embedded into the fabric over the years and now shimmered in the lights coming from the stage. A large man, dressed all in black, clearly security, stood in front of the gap in the curtain. Blaine may not have been to a strip club before but he knew what this meant.

'Oh, no.'

'Yes.' Sebastian pushed him lightly.

'I am not going in there.' He tried to keep the panic from his voice as he fought Seb's direction.

'I bought you a private dance for your birthday. Now you will say thank you and go in there and let the young man dance for you.'

'Sebastian, I really-'

'Blaine Anderson.' Sebastian looked over his head and smiled at the bouncer who nodded, they never seemed to actually use words, and pulled the curtain aside slightly. It only took a small shoved and Blaine was stumbling through.

There was a small stage in the center of the room, only about a quarter of the size of the main stage, with a gold pole situated right in its middle. There was a soft purple glow, but other than that very little light, making it very difficult for Blaine to see much of anything. A plush chair had been set up directly in front of the stage.

He sat down with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. As he waited he shifted in his seat, unsure exactly how to position himself. He settled on knees slightly parted, hands resting on thighs, heart racing.

Just as he was about to stand and leave, sure this was some joke Sebastian had played to rile him up, a heavy bass began to pour from the speakers.

A young man stepped out onto the stage. Boy, Blaine corrected to himself, because he was closer to his own age, younger, if that was even possible. He was unlike any of the other performers Blaine had witnessed that night. Pale and lithe, toned muscles hinted from under his clothes.

He was dressed quite modestly, considering some of the other costumes worn by the dancers on the main stage. His pants were leather, skin tight, shaping his ass perfectly. They were tucked into knee high lace-up boots that made Blaine want to unlace them very slowly just to discover what was underneath. His shirt was light cotton, rolled up at the sleeves. The white was ever so slightly see-through, unbuttoned enough to reveal just a tease of his chest. A scarf was tied around his neck, giving him a hint of coyness. There was not a single speck of glitter on him and his hair was styled perfectly.

He was stunning.

He started his dance without casting a single glance in Blaine's direction. Striding out onto the stage with long steps, hips swaying as he went. He gripped the pole firmly with long fingers and hoisted himself up, spinning, flashing Blaine a brief but oh so wonderful view of his leather clad ass.

When his feet planted back on the ground he pressed his lower half to the pole, hands still gripping it tight, and bent back, stretching out, showing off all the muscles in his arms and neck, the flexibility of his back. He rolled his torso back up the pole finally, finally, looking at Blaine when he pressed his cheek to the metal.

Blaine swallowed, mouth dry. His fingers were digging into the tops of his thighs but he didn't even realize as he continued to hold the intense gaze coming from those striking blue eyes. He shifted a little as his pants started to tighten around his crotch.

The dancer let go of the pole and strutted down off the stage, hips swinging in that delicious way as he did so. He stopped just short of Blaine and begun, oh so slowly, to unbutton his shirt. As he did so he continued to sway his hips, rolling them slightly as he moved in time with the music. Never once did he break eye contact.

Blaine licked his lips. He wanted nothing more than to reach out at touch, to feel that pale skin beneath him fingers, to feel the muscles quiver and flex. But something told him that wasn't allowed, at least not until the boy made his move.

When he reached the last button the young man stop moving his hips and slowly made the three paces to Blaine's knees. He pushed them apart with his own, standing between Blaine's thighs and turning around so his lower back was at Blaine's eye level. Then he moved and the shirt feel from his back, sliding between Blaine's thighs down to the floor.

He raised his arms above his head, muscles in his shoulders flexing and began to dance again, seemingly lost in the music. There was nothing tacky about the dance, it was nothing like Blaine had been expecting. It was slow, sensual, teasing. It was turning Blaine on like nothing else.

The boy turned around suddenly, bent down, placing both hands on Blaine's knees. He squeezed once before pushing his legs together, shimming forward slightly and sitting down with a roll of his hips.

Blaine bit back a groan as the boy rested his weight in his lap. He had been half hard since he had first caught a glimpse of that ass through leather but now he could feel the heat of him on his lap all hope was gone. He felt slightly ashamed at his arousal. But, paid or not, this boy was beautiful. So far this had been one of Sebastian's better birthday presents.

Blaine closed his eyes as the boy snaked his arms around his neck and rolled his hips again in time to the music. There was a hot breath in his ear and then a voice, clearly speaking in its lower register but still higher pitched than Blaine's own. It sounded like silk amongst the heavy bass of the music.

'Having fun?'

He leant back to gain Blaine's reaction, pressing harder into his lap as he did so. Blaine could only nod in response.

'May I ask, what's your name?' He purred into Blaine's ear.

'B-Blaine.' He stammered.

'Well, Blaine, it's very nice to meet you. For tonight you can call me Porcelain.' If Blaine had been older, wiser, more confident, maybe if he had simply had more to drink he would have asked the question that flashed in his mind; what about tomorrow?

And with that Porcelain threw his head back, arching like he had against the pole, only this time his lower half was pressed against Blaine, who wanted to latch onto his exposed throat and mark him as his own. He settled instead for resting his hands on his hips, feeling the move beneath his fingertips as he continued to grind into Blaine's lap. His fingertips dug in slightly, making sure this was real, this boy was not simple a specter of his imagination.

Then all of a sudden, much too soon if you asked Blaine, the weight was gone from his lap and he was watching Porcelain make his way back up onto the stage. With the warmth gone from his lap Blaine finds his hand drifting down to the inner seam of his jeans. He so badly wanted to palm the bulge that's obvious through his pants. His cock had been so hard for so long now it was starting to turn painful. But of course he couldn't t touch himself, not in front of Porcelain. He had some dignity after all.

The boy was now circling the pole, slowly rolling his hips as he moved around. His hands move from the pole down to the wait of his pants. He stick his thumb in, moving it side to side a few times before slowly working at his button.

Blaine thought he was going to pass out. Suddenly the darkness and the heat of the room were getting to him. This wasn't him. He was still a virgin for fucks sake. And now this beautiful young man, because from what he had shown Blaine he truly was a man, was about to take his pants off for him.

Then Porcelain laughed, removed his hand from his fly and kissed his palm. He blew the kiss to Blaine as the final notes of the song faded out and strutted back of the stage the way he came.

Blaine could do nothing but sit there and breathe.

Kurt fixed his hair in the dusty mirror of the crowded dressing room. If there was one thing he hated about working the pole it was the hideous things it did to his hair. He loved performing, and to some extent he loved the attention that this certain type of performing attracted. It wasn't, and never would be, Broadway and it did awful things to his hair but, it paid the bills, and at the moment that was all Kurt had time to care about.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Without looking away from his reflecting he sighed, 'No Andy, I do not have any body glitter for you to borrow.'

'Well it's a good thing I'm not Andy then.'

Kurt's eyes flicked over his shoulder in the mirror at the unfamiliar voice. Upon seeing the face he quickly stood up, turning as he did so. He almost took the young man out from the force of his chair moving back.

'You can't be back here,' he hissed. One glance and Kurt could tell he was loaded. Everything from the dark skinny jeans, to the button up shirt and genuine leather shoes screamed wealth. The strongest indication however was the boy's face. It oozed a confidence that only came from never knowing what it felt like to be hungry, to have to buy second hand designer clothes, knowing you could buy the person in front of you three times over.

Kurt recognized the guy. He had just bought a dance for his friend, the cute, innocent, insanely attractive friend. The exact kind of guy Kurt would pine after in real life, if he had one. He had paid well, including a generous tip. He didn't just flaunt his wealth with his wardrobe but with his spending, too.

'I have a proposition for you.'

Kurt had heard those words before and they made his heart sink and his stomach churn. A proposition was always a double-edged sword. Kurt had only ever agreed to them when he was particularly desperate, when his hot water had been turned off or when he had only eaten potatoes all week. They always paid well, he made sure of that. But they always made him feel dirty in a way that was impossible to clean; a spot so deep down it was impossible to get to with soap or hot water or fresh food or survival.

So Kurt simply arched an eyebrow, slipped into his stage persona and pretended to be aloof.

'You see my friend Blaine has this little problem. It's his birthday today and I was hoping to get that sorted out for him.' The man, Sebastian, Kurt remembered from his credit card, smirked.

'Oh?'

'Yes. I was hoping that tonight you could make my little Blaine a man, if you know what I mean.' He finished the sentence with a wink and Kurt thought he was going to throw up.

Kurt had been paid to perform sexual acts before, but he had a limit. He had given blowjobs before, or more accurately, allowed his mouth to be fucked. But he had been starving and desperate and he never, ever considered going that far. Kurt took a moment to regain his composure before speaking again.

'I may be a stripper, but I'm not a prostitute.' He said coldly.

'No?' Sebastian raised an eyebrow. 'I just thought, maybe this could help?' He handed Kurt a piece of paper with a number on it.

Kurt almost fainted at the sight if the number, all traces of his persona slipped away. The number would feed him for a year. The number would keep him in his apartment. The number would finally, finally, pay his father's hospital and funeral bills. The number would change Kurt's life.

He swallowed and looked back up at Sebastian, who seemed proud of himself. Could he really do this? Could he sell himself for a chance to reclaim his life? After staring at the digits on the page for what seemed like an eternity he nodded slowly.

Sebastian grinned and pressed a thick wad of bills into Kurt's shaking hand. Without a single word he turned on his heel and left a shocked Kurt in his wake.

'Good news.'

Blaine shook his head to clear his thoughts. Undulating hips, pale skin, blue eyes, sweet kisses, coffee dates. Sebastian was back, pulling Blaine from the bar where he had managed to stumble after his dance, wearing a smug grin that always meant trouble. Usually for Blaine.

'What's so good about it?' Blaine narrowed his eyes.

'Well tonight, I have arranged for you to become a man.' Sometimes Blaine thought Sebastian looked like a meercat, especially when he was scheming.

'What do you mean?' And then it clicked. 'Are you kidding me right now Sebastian? You hired me a prostitute?' Sebastian was now dragging Blaine behind another heavy velvet curtain, however this one revealed a completely different area than the last.

The long rectangular room was lined with dressing tables covered in all types of make-up, body glitters and empty cans of spray tan. The mirrors were all bordered in lights, giving the room a bright yellow glow. There were a few men dressing themselves, fixing their hair in the mirrors, preparing for their upcoming performances.

Sebastian led him further into the room, stopping suddenly when they were just past half way. Blaine almost ran into him, not having noticed the sudden halt due to the distractions of the various sights and sounds of the room. He had been in plays before, he understood backstage, but this was something else.

And then he saw the reason they had stopped. He was still wearing the leather pants, leaning against the chair at his dressing table, hip cocked. He had changed his shirt. Again it was simple, pale blue, light cotton, but there was a series of complicated looking buckles adorning the shoulders. His arms were folded across chest, waiting. He looked Blaine up and down, who suddenly felt very vulnerable under his gaze.

'Sebastian no! I can't- I'm not-' Blaine couldn't think. Sebastian had hired Porcelain. To have sex with him. This was not real life. This was not happening to him.

Blaine was bad at romance, hence him still being a virgin at nineteen, but that didn't mean he didn't like it. He had always wanted to sweep a boy off his feet, to buy roses, go on dinner dates. But he had never found the right boy, and now here he was.

'Come on, Blaine. You have an attractive young man, who is very willing-'

'Because you paid him.' Blaine hissed through his teeth, low enough for only Seb to hear.

'Problem?' Porcelain purred. Blaine swallowed at the sound of his voice, mouth suddenly very dry.

'No, no. It's- um- just-'

'Blaine is a virgin.'

'Seb!' Blaine couldn't believe this guy was actually his best friend.

Porcelain clicked his tongue and took a step forward, placing a hand on Blaine's bicep. 'Aw, honey, there's no need to worry. Just let me take care of you, huh?'

Blaine closed his eyes. Maybe this was his only choice. He was young, attractive and fairly wealthy. But he had never had a real boyfriend, only a couple of dates with an English major and an awkward misunderstanding with a junior manager at the Gap. Maybe there was something wrong with him? Maybe the only way he could ever have someone's affections was to buy them.

He nodded slowly.

'Excellent!' Sebastian clapped his hands together. 'Well, Blaine, I think I may spend the night in the dorms. As proud of you as I am, I do not want to hear you loosing your virginity.'

Blaine groaned and buried his head in his hands. When he reappeared Sebastian was gone, leaving him alone with Porcelain once again.

The song Kurt dances to is Undisclosed Desires by Muse. Coincidentally the title also comes from this song. I hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think. Love.