"Puck, why do I have to go with you to this place?" Kurt groaned, his head hitting the back of the seat.

"Because I went to that sing-along Noise of Music shit when Rachel ditched you." Puck said, spinning the steering wheel between his hands.

"First of all, it's Sound of Music, Puck, and don't act like you didn't get all teary eyed at the wedding." Kurt snapped.

"Ha, yeah, I'm the one that got teary eyed. Anyway, I'm getting you out of the house, bro. You need this."

Kurt rolled his eyes at 'bro' as he stared at the inside of his wrist. It had been twenty-three years now and Kurt's wrist was still clean. No name had ever appeared. No marks. Nothing.

Kurt went to countless parties, multitudes of clubs, and a never ending line of bars. He had flirted with short men, tall men, men with brown hair, blonde hair, red hair, with beards, without beards (and when he said beards, he meant both kinds), funny, rich, stupid, smart, even a few women. Still no name uncovered itself. But honestly, Kurt was thankful his wrist was clean when he walked away from the girls.

"I don't need half naked women."

"What you need is half naked men." Puck said as he pulled into the parking lot.

Kurt turned his head to see a brick building with a large neon sign protruding from it.

"Cockpit? Puck? Cockpit?" Kurt asked, half laughing.

Puck lumbered from the car and motioned for Kurt to join him.

"So the hidden homosexual tendencies I tease you about so often are true." Kurt smirked, stepping out into the brisk, Autumn air.

"Not exactly." Puck grinned.

Before Kurt could ask, Puck slipped into the car, slammed both doors, and clicked the lock.

"What are you doing?"

"You go in there, get a lap dance, and then I'll come get you." Puck shouted through the glass.

"Puck! You can't just leave me here! Puck!" Kurt yelled at him as he backed up.
But to no avail, Puck sped away from Kurt and the club. Kurt let out an exasperated sigh and looked around the empty lot, desperate for someone, anyone to help him. But what could anyone do. Suddenly, Kurt's phone beeped to life, the screen lighting up to show a picture of a certain Mohawk.

From Puck – And to make sure you did it, I'm going to need a picture of you and the sweaty man who gets up on ya

—

Kurt cautiously strode into the dim lit room, practically sliding against the wall in an attempt to not be spotted. Music played loudly from a few sets of speakers that were positioned around the room. Kurt snorted when he recognized the song was Erotica by Madonna. The grungy strip joint was full of sleazy men in thin sweatpants and smelled homeless. A few men were rolling their hips and stripping off their pants on a stage. A group of men whose wedding rings glinted in the light from the spotlit stage, sat eagerly in chairs surrounding the dancers. Kurt couldn't even try to hide the disgust he felt toward the drooling and most likely closeted men. What's worse is, as Kurt walked by them, almost every man had a name scrolled across his wrist.

Kurt inhaled sharply, coughing at the cigarette smoke air, and took a seat in an old leather chair. He prayed silently that this chair was at least semi-clean. He tried to distract his thoughts from the dirty things that must have happened where he was sitting. A soft gag rose up in his throat at the idea of a man with come-stained pants, legs wide open as some cheap stripper rutted up against him for a handful of dollar bills and-

"Gentlemen of the crowd, I give you, The Warbler!"

Kurt's gaze rose to the stage just in time to see a short, dark haired man toss open the curtains that ran along the back, and strut confidently out. He was wearing nothing but these small black shorts and a matching bowtie, tight around his neck like a collar. His hair was wildly untamed, sticking out in thick curls that just asked to be pulled on. His toned stomach and muscular arms were very different from the other men, who were buff to the point Kurt's mind jumped to steroids. His body looked so much more natural, so much more sexy. His eyes were incredibly piercing, dark and large, he looked out into the crowd sharply as if he were stalking prey.

As 'The Warbler' made his way down the center of the stage, he practically shoved the other men aside. The one's he didn't have to manually remove, jumped aside, eager to let the boy have his spotlight. The Warbler had begun to roll his hips, sometimes thrusting them forward in the direction of random men.

Kurt began to half bounce in his seat, uncomfortable and suddenly very hot. He tugged at his collar and began to look around the room for some escape.

"God, I am not getting hard from a stripper." Kurt groaned to himself, feeling completely disgraced.

The Warbler, who was very obviously a crowd favorite, continued to grind his hips around to the music. But as he looked about the crowd for a man to tease, his eyes rested on some pale skinned beauty. The Warbler's rhythm was thrown off slightly as his eyes roamed over the boy. The audience member had well groomed brown hair, shinning blue/green eyes, and a wardrobe selection that put model's to shame. What was a boy like that doing here. The Warbler's mind raced with a thousand thoughts of how he was probably really secretly kinky or-

Kurt's blinking had become erratic ever since the stripper's eyes had landed on his. Kurt nervously brushed his fingers through his hair, desperately trying to break the stare. If there was no proof in the past, this was evidence enough that Kurt's brain and Kurt's dick had two entirely different agendas. Because the only thing Kurt wanted to do right then was shove the boy up against the wall and suck on his neck until a dark spot appeared and then kiss down his chest until he was low enough to suck on-

As the music ended so did The Warbler's dancing, much to Kurt's dismay. The boy stalked back behind the curtain as if he were staring in a runway fashion show but right before he made his exit, the boy turned and winked. Directly. At. Kurt.

When the Warbler disappeared, Kurt let his head fall into his hands. A new song had started up and a fresh group of strippers had claimed the stage, none of which interested Kurt in the slightest. Kurt felt himself practically glaring at his crotch.

"Kurt Hummel does not become infatuated with strippers." He thought. What the hell was wrong with him. Even the regulars had already found their soulmates. Maybe it was because they knew that these strippers were just a quick fuck not someone to spend a life with.

"Hey, care for a dance." A voice shook Kurt from his thoughts. A surprisingly soft, warm, voice that sounded much like melted chocolate.

"No thank yo-" Kurt grumbled as he turned to look at the man but was suddenly cut off when he realized just who was offering.

"Are you sure?" The Warbler asked, cocking one thick eyebrow.

"N-no." Kurt said, shaking his head too quickly.

"You're not sure or you don't want one?" The Warbler asked, stroking Kurt's arm softly.

"I-I don't-" Kurt's voice broke, not feeling vulnerable and even more nervous then when he first walked in.

"Oh come one, I don't bite," The Warbler teased as he walked around Kurt chair. He suddenly swooped down, stopping so close to Kurt's ear that he could feel his breath, "Unless you want me to."

Kurt was now incredibly flustered, the sentences coming out of his mouth were half-babbled words and sharp inhales of breath. Somewhere along the line he muttered out some line about having a boyfriend. The Warbler smirked at him, circling the chair until he was standing directly in front of him.

He leaned down until he was only inches from Kurt's face before whispering, "Even though I know you're lying, it's easy to believe. I mean, look at you."

Kurt's gaze had transitioned from the stripper's eyes to his lips. Those pink lips that Kurt wanted to kiss and suck on. Those lips that Kurt accidentally found himself leaning towards. Those lips that were now attached to Kurt's in a hard kiss.

Kurt instantly wove his finger's into the boy's hair just like he imagined. As he did so he felt a strange warm, tickling sensation on the inside of his wrist. Kurt was completely willing to ignore it considering who's face he was currently ravishing but the snug pair of hands on Kurt's cheeks immediately jerked back.

"Huh?" Kurt barely had time to gasp.

The boy was staring at his own wrist, with wide eyes and agape mouth. Kurt smiled a little proudly as he noticed the puffy redness of his lips.

"What are you looking at?" Kurt asked, his breath slowly returning to him.

"Oh nothing, Kurt." The boy said, eyes still as big as saucers.

"Wait, how did you know-"

The Warbler's hand raised, exposing the inside of his wrist to Kurt. There, scrawled in black cursive writing was the name "Kurt Hummel".

"Oh my god." Kurt breathed, his own mouth falling open. His eyes darted to his own wrist where the name, in matching lettering, read "Blaine Anderson".

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Blaine, would it?" Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded his head, biting his lip to suppress his grin (and failing), while giving the most innocent shrug a nearly naked man could give.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" Kurt asked, the self-consciousness rushing back to him as he realized they were sitting in the middle of a strip club. Strip Club. Kurt just met his soulmate in a Strip Club. Kurt just met his soulmate, the stripper.

"Of course." Blaine awkwardly extended his hand and Kurt took it hesitantly, flushing as he caught sight of his name again.

Blaine led them deeper into the building, stopping when the reached a room guarder by a big, balding man.

"Hey Dan, I need the private room." Blaine said to him, nodding in the direction of the uncomfortable Kurt.

Dan grunted at them, his lips splitting into a creepy smile and his small, beady eyes locking onto Kurt's.

"Have Fun." He said. His voice was deep and verging on threatening, the kind of voice Kurt had expected to come out of Blaine.

Blaine pulled on Kurt's hand to get him to move but Kurt was frozen in place. Dan continued to smirk at him as he looked up and down Kurt's body.

As Kurt walked by, Dan grabbed his arm.

"You know, you're pretty cute. Maybe after your done with him-"

Blaine suddenly surged forward and slammed his hands into the larger man's chest, shoving Dan backward.

"Don't you touch him!" Blaine shouted, getting close to Dan's face in an entirely different way then how he had with Kurt.

"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, buddy." Dan chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender, "Since when have you gotten so territorial over your clients?"

"He's not a client." Blaine spat, pushing him one last time before yanking Kurt into the room and slamming the door.

"Protective, aren't you?" Kurt said, trying to hide the little jolt of excitement he got from watching Blaine stand up for him. Okay, maybe from the twitch of his dick, it was a little more then excitement.

Blaine was standing with his hands on his hips, unknowing pushing his shorts down ever so slightly and exposing more skin. Kurt's mouth was parted, breathing just as heavy as Blaine was but for a completely different reason. Blaine, who had been staring at his feet, looked up at Kurt. His eyes were blown and dark, his eyebrows furrowed tightly together, and honestly, it made him look a little scary.

"I'm only kidding." Kurt offered.

"I-I know. I'm sorry. That guy….if you worked with him…he is very, let's say, 'open' with his sexuality and uh not in the good way. God, to think if he got a hold of you-"

"I can hold my own, you know? I don't need you to protect me." Kurt snapped.

"I know. I was just…."

"Worried?" Kurt asked, almost a little hopefully.

"Yeah."

Kurt's heart fluttered a bit at that. But there was still one question he wanted to ask.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you 'open' with your sexuality?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever…you know…."

"Had sex?"

Kurt nodded a little. Kurt sure as hell knew he hadn't. It was often frowned upon to have sex before you found your soul mate, but that wasn't the reason Kurt had waited. He wanted to. Kurt, ever since he was a young boy, had romanticized and fantasized about his soul mate. In some realities, he was a prince, with prefect blonde hair and a dashing horse to match. In another Kurt imagined a smarter boy with thick rimmed glasses and physics pick-up lines. Kurt wanted to save everything for his soul mate. Unfortunately a few kisses had been stolen on the journey to find him (and none of them had felt like the one with Blaine) but Kurt saved one special thing for his soul mate. For Blaine.

"No. I mean, people have offered. Some have wanted to….buy me for quite the sum of money. But no, I wanted to wait….for you." You could see the second Blaine realized it. That he hadn't been waiting for just his soul mate. He had been waiting for Kurt.

"M-me too." Kurt smiled softly.

His stomach jumped a little. Kurt always heard that falling in love could be rocky or slow. That it could be difficult or your emotions would get all mixed up. But right then, right there, in that moment, Kurt found falling in love a little too easy. And it didn't matter that they were in a strip joint and his name was on a stripper because it was Blaine. He had only known him all of an half an hour but that was all it took. I mean, isn't that how soul mates work? You just know. And goddamn it, Kurt knew.

"Would you mind telling me what a boy like you is doing in a place like this anyway?" Blaine asked, taking a seat on one of the long couches that ran along side the walls.

"Well, that's quite the story." Kurt laughed.

"I have time." Blaine smiled, patting the seat beside his.

So Kurt told the story, the entire time desperately trying to forget the fact Blaine was nearly naked. Blaine an exceptional listener, chuckling along and nodding at the right times, occasionally stopping Kurt so he could ask questions.

"You know, there is only one problem with that story." Blaine smirked.

"What?"

"You haven't gotten your lap dance yet."

"Oh." Kurt breathed.

"Would you care for a dance?" Blaine joked, trying to use the same sultry tone he had when he first approached Kurt.

Kurt bit down on his lip and nodded, once again, a little too quickly.

Blaine wasted no time hooking one leg over Kurt and pushing himself into a sitting position so he could straddle him. Blaine leaned forward and resting his forehead against Kurt's. They stared at each other for a moment and smiled. It was oddly romantic.

"You know, I usually am teasing people at this point but I think I can make an exception for you." Blaine said, running a few fingers through the hair by Kurt's ear.

"I think an exception would be rather wonderful."

"Okay." Blaine whispered, giving a small rotation of his hips as he spoke.

Kurt gasped a little and let his own hips jerk up a bit in an attempt to reach more friction. Blaine began to plant soft kisses along the side of Kurt's neck and jawbone. Each little kiss felt like a warm spark. Kurt tilted his head back for Blaine to get better access and Blaine took the opportunity to chose his first hickey spot. He settled on the spot right beside his adams apple. As Blaine set to work he gave a few more rolls of his hips to keep Kurt satisfied.

Kurt's hands had found their way back up into the mess of curls and Kurt began to test what noises he could get out of Blaine by tugging.

"Urgh." Blaine groaned, the pulling distracting him from the hickey.

Kurt, now satisfied with the reaction, ricocheted his hips up to meet Blaine's. Blaine let out a low moan and pulled off of Kurt's neck. Blaine grinned foolishly at the purple mark, taking great pride in what he did.

"I bet you do that for all your costumers." Kurt's said and took a jerk this time at the bowtie around Blaine's neck.

"Mhmm, I bet you do that too all your strippers."

"Yes, my tons and tons of- oh shit Blaine."

Blaine had started up a steady rhythm now so that with ever passing second, their erections were rubbing together. Kurt hooked his hands tightly around Blaine's neck and Blaine followed suit by tightening his grip on Kurt's hips. They rutted against each other for god knows how long.

The only sounds that could be heard were the sharp gasps of the boys, the squeak of leather under them, and a low beat coming from some speaker out in the club. In the boys minds though, they heard nothing. Because nothing mattered. Nothing but the motion of their bodies pressed so tightly together and the warm, quick kisses that they shared during the moments they weren't moaning out pleas.

"Fuck Kurt." Blaine's voice broke as Kurt bite down on his bottom lip.

"B-blaine as much as I don't want you to stop, and oh god I do not want you to stop, I would prefer to leave here with dry pants." Kurt gripped Blaine's shoulder's tightly.

Blaine forced himself to halt his grinding and let his head fall forward into the crook of Kurt's neck. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and rubbed up and down his back as they both tried to collect themselves.

"Best I ever had." Blaine muttered into his ear.

"Only I ever had but still the best none the less." Kurt teased.

Blaine didn't reply but Kurt could feel him smiling into his neck.

"Hey, no falling asleep on me, okay? Anyway, we have to take a picture." Kurt laughed, pushing Blaine up.

"Fine." Blaine pouted.

They clumsily stood, Blaine reluctantly climbing off of Kurt first, and Kurt fished his phone out from his pocket.

Blaine winded his arm around Kurt's waist as he prepared his pose for the picture. As Kurt angled the shot, he reached down and took Blaine's hand.

"Want to show him our tattoos?" Kurt smiled.

They out turned their wrists to the camera and snapped the photo.

—-

Puck heard his phone buzz loudly on the table beside his couch.

"Ha, did Hummel actually get a stripper?" Puck thought to himself.

He opened the message and his jaw dropped. There stood Kurt, with his arm around some short stripper, showing off their soul mate markings.

"Holy shit." Puck scoffed.

'Hummel', He texted, 'You owe me big time. See what you got out of the Cockpit.'

—-

One Year Later

"Kurt? I'm home!" Blaine called out, closing the door to their apartment behind him.

"Hey Blaine. How was class?"

"Good. June is really busting my balls but It's okay."

Kurt pecked his lips softly before saying, "When you put it like that it makes it sound like your still a stripper"

Blaine gave Kurt a knowing look, one eyebrow raised and his head tilted lowly

"What?" Kurt asked, defensively.

"I know what you're doing. You only bring up the club when you want me to break out my old black bowtie."

Kurt opened his mouth in an attempt to argue but saw there was no point and whined, "Please Blaine."

"Fine. But you have to slip into your old cheerio uniform." Blaine buckled. He could never turn Kurt down.

Kurt grinned triumphantly and scrambled off to the bedroom with Blaine right behind him.