A/N: I got this based off Britney Spears "Gimme More". Chapter Seven! I hope you enjoy it! You get deeper into the whole Klaine/Davana thing. Learn more about David's past and Blaine deals with being close to "Porcelain"
P.S, I don't own Glee or any of the characters. If I did, the show would be VERY different. I also do not own Britney Spears' song, as it belongs to Britney Spears.
The back rooms to Club Cheeri-Ohs! weren't exactly what you'd expect. Most people, when they come to these sorts of places, expect some dirty room with a solid bed; one you could very easily catch something just by sitting on it (even with clothes on).
It was the exact opposite, actually. Each room was decorated for a different theme (Winter Wonderland, Summer Get-Away, Midnight) and was thoroughly cleaned and inspected after every use. It was designed almost like a normal bedroom. A kind sized bed. A small dresser beside it (filled with condoms and toys in case the guy wanted to have a little fun – though that cost extra), and a long body mirror.
Kurt was shocked by all this when he first started working. He never knew how innocent you could make a place look; especially one so . . . not innocent. Then again, Sylvester may have been a money-hungry wench sometimes, but even she knew a lawsuit before it would even come.
Turning back from his thoughts, Kurt found Blaine as a timidly close distance. Their hands had been touching since they first walked off, but from the moment they walked behind that black curtain, their bodies remained less than ten inches apart.
It was accustom for the client to choose which room they would go to, but when Kurt asked, he received the typical client answer: doesn't matter. Picking his favorite, though rarely used, Kurt took Blaine to the Forest Twilight room. He didn't exactly know why it was his favorite, but it was. The colors were darkish green and blue, with a bit of brown, and white, and sky blue thrown in. It gave a very late summer, bitter spring vibe; one Kurt enjoyed greatly, though he told no one.
Switching on the light, Kurt walked into the middle of the room, leaving Blaine to stand by the door, staring in shock.
"Impressed?" Kurt ventured after a moment of silence.
"Yeah, kinda. It's uh . . . not really what I had in mind." Blaine answered, hands stuffed into his pockets.
"You're not the first to think that. Sue takes care of this place; it's her baby after all." Blaine nods, but says nothing. His eyes stay on the floor for a long moment as he sway's his body back and forth slowly. Kurt gives in finally, having never seen this sort of reaction before. "Are you okay?"
"What?" Blaine looks up suddenly, his hands pulled out from his pockets and beginning to fold across his chest. "Oh! Yeah. Totally."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, yeah." Blaine answers quickly. Kurt says nothing, but he doesn't need to speak to tell Blaine he knows he's lying. "I'm fine, honestly. I guess I'm a bit . . . I don't. A bit nervous."
Blaine winces at the word, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck. Kurt tries to hide his surprise and he guessed it worked well, because Blaine didn't say anything about it. Instead he went back to staring at the floor. Kurt wasn't used to someone being nervous when it same to sex. Most of his clients were either too drunk or too hard to even worry about anything. Once he even had to bump up the price, because the guy was too drunk and hard to even put the condom on correctly and even tried to bite Kurt while he was doing it for him.
But this was Blaine. Blaine, who took weeks to even ask Kurt to dance; who would talk to him about music, and art, and fashion, and movies. And who would blush like a high school girl whenever he was given a compliment. It was no secret Blaine was different from most clients . . . from most men.
"Don't worry, I get that a lot." He lies, hoping to sooth the man before him. Blaine half smiles, looking up with large puppy-like eyes.
Kurt could look into those eyes forever, but something stops him. In the corner of his eye, he notices the security camera in the corner of the wall, blinking red. Kurt always thought it was off that Sue kept a camera in the room, though she swore it was to make sure no funny business was going on while they clients and dancers were alone.
Kurt also knew that, just like on the floor, if you pass a certain time mark, you're out. If nothing with went on after five minutes alone together, Sue would come barging in, throwing Blaine out and keeping the money for herself. Not wanting either of those things to happen, Kurt got down to business.
"Well, we should probably get started." He says, cleaning his throat. "In the upper draw of the dresser we have condoms and lube. They differ in types, flavors, and sizes. Feel free to choose whichever you like."
Blaine nods, listening to each other Kurt says carefully.
"Um, the second draw is filled with toys." Blaine's eyes meet Kurt's the moment the word is said, though he says nothing. "All are good for use, though it cost extra."
"I think I'll be alright." Blaine says breathlessly, smiling shyly.
"Alright. Well, I guess there's one last thing." Blaine watches Kurt, waiting. "Top or bottom?"
"P-pardon?"
"Do you want to be top or bottom? I've done both and it's the clients choice whether he wants to be catching or pitching."
"Oh!" Blaine says; eyes wide as he catches Kurt's drift. "Um, t-top."
Kurt nods, turning his head to hide his smile and possible blush. It's somewhat obvious Kurt's attracted to him, has been since he first laid his eyes on him. But that wasn't why he liked him. No, looks weren't everything to Kurt. They never were. It was the way he laughed and smiled. How he would act like a total gentlemen, even in a place that's utterly and completely gentlemen-less. He made Kurt feel . . . well, human. Not just like some nameless Cheeri-Ohs! dancer.
"I, um, I guess we better get started." Blaine's words cut into Kurt's thoughts, bringing him back into reality. He was there, with Blaine, who had just paid for a room. A room in which things will be going down in. And by down, I mean sweet, sweet, man on man sex.
Nodding in agreement, Kurt turns and sits on the mattress, looking so small and fragile against the giant dark-blue sea of sheets beneath him. Blaine watches him for a moment, but then he's on the move. Swift like a jackrabbit, Blaine is by his side, sitting inches away from him.
His brown eyes switch back and forth between Kurt's eyes and his lips, and Kurt knows what he's thinking. That act was forbidden at club CO. No matter how much they paid, a dancer and a client were to never kiss. It was far too intimate and that's not what Cheeri-Ohs! was about.
Kurt knew he should say something, but the moment Blaine lifted his hand and cupped his cheek, he couldn't help but to lean into it, sighing softly. His eyes flickered to the camera just above Blaine's head and he knew Sylvester was watching. He also knew he'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble if he let this continue.
Forcing his eyes closed, Kurt pushed away his own desire; that feeling that ran throughout his entire body, Kurt found his voice.
"Blaine,"
"I'm sorry."
Kurt's eyes broke up, but it was too late. Blaine was standing, walking away from the bed, from Kurt.
"W-what?"
"I'm sorry, Porcelain, I can't do this." Blaine explained quickly.
"What? Blaine, what's going on?" Kurt turned towards him, reaching out, but Blaine was already out of reach.
He shook his head as he backed away, his eyes dark with despair. "I'm sorry, I just . . . I can't do this. I have . . . I have to go." Blaine opened the door to leave, but stopped and turned one last time. His eyes met Kurt's and for a second, it looked like he was going to say something, an explanation. Turning away, he mutters one last "I'm sorry" before heading out the door.
Kurt stares at it without a word, his head cocking to the side in sheer confusion.
What?
"For the last time, the answer is no!"
David leaned back in seat, laughing helplessly. Coffee with Santana had become almost a weekly ritual for them now. Every Tuesday and/or Wednesday they'd meet up at Café La Warbler and just talk. They went back and forth between paying, though David insisted he'd take care of it, seeing as it was his idea in the first place.
"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!"
They sat there now, in their same table, talking and laughing over peppermint mochas and chai teas, acting as if the world around them didn't exist.
"I am not playing Never Have I Ever with you!" Santana expressed.
"Why?" David whined childishly.
"First off, there are only two of us. Second, we're drinking coffee, not Jack Daniels. And besides, with me, that game would be over before you even counted to ten."
Taking her mug, Santana sipped her drink, smirking at the sight of David's impressed expression.
"Alright, how about Truth or Dare?" He mused.
"What are you, nine?"
"Plus fourteen." Santana rolled her eyes at his unassuming wit. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen? It's just a game, remember?"
Santana stared him down, but eventually craved. "Fine!"
David smiled triumphantly, scooting his chair in to get closer. "Sweet! Alright, me first. Truth or dare?"
"Dare." Santana said with a smirk.
"Okay. I dare you to eat the salt."
"Seriously?" Reaching over, Santana took the salt shaker, pouring a hefty amount into her hand. Bringing it to her mouth, she empty the contents, swallowing it gradually. "Kid stuff." She commented. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth." David tells her.
"Wimp." She grins. "Did you always want to me a journalist?"
"Always. I mean, when I was really little I wanted to be an astronaut, a cowboy, even a moose."
"Moose?" Santana mimicked.
"I was three, don't ask. Anyway, when I was in the fifth grade, my school held a writing contest. Well, I entered and won. It was amazing, because I really didn't expect to win, you know? I was just having a blast doing it. Anyway, since that day on, I knew it's what I wanted to do."
Santana nods slowly, having no snarky or rude comment to make on the subject.
"Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Okay. . . . I dare you to lick me."
"What!"
"Well the salt thing was too kiddy, maybe kinky is more your style."
The two had a short stare down before Santana rolled her eyes and reached across the table. Bringing his hand to her mouth, Santana licked one slow, long trail across the back of David's hand; her eyes never leaving his as she performed the deed.
"Happy?"
"Yeah, I think that works."
"Truth or dare."
"Dare."
"I dare you to lick yourself."
"You can't do that! It's against the rules."
"You never said anything about rules."
"Everyone knows that in truth or dare, you can't repeat someone's dare or question. It's just not cool."
"Fine! Jeez. I dare you to change your ring tone from whatever it is to Barbie Girl by Aqua."
"I would, but I don't have that song on my phone."
Santana, who already had her phone out, pushed several buttons before looking up, smiling. "You do now."
A moment passed and David's phone began to vibrate. Opening it, he sighed heavily and did as requested. And it was done, he turned on the sound. Reopening her phone, Santana hit David's number and hit send. After a few seconds, the phone went off and the song began to play. Santana laughed girlishly as the people around them stared. Turning the sound off, David shoved his phone into his jacket pocket.
"You know I'm gonna change it when I leave, right?"
"Oh shut up and ask me a question."
"Fine. Truth or dare."
"Truth."
David said nothing as he thought of his question. "Why do you work at the club?" He asked finally.
"Easy. There are three things in this world I'm good at: singing, dancing, and sex. At Club Cheeri-Ohs! I can do all three and make money."
"Did you ever think about working elsewhere? Somewhere you can sing and dance and not have to sell yourself?"
Santana lifted her hand, stopping him from continuing. "Look, I know being a singer/dancer/stripper/escort isn't the best job in the world, but it's what I know. I've done it since I got out of school and I'll be doing it for years to come. Being Lita is who I am."
David nods, not bothering to continue. "Your turn to ask." He tells her.
Santana looks down at her cup as she swirls her spoon around. Bringing it to her mouth, she lips it clean. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Okay. I got it. Our time wasn't half bad together. You actually knew what you were doing, which was nice; especially for someone in my position."
"I'm flattered, Santana."
"A guy like you must've have tons of action back in the day. Tell me about that."
"You want me to tell you about my sex life?" Santana nods, her cheery flavored lip glass shining in the light. "Okay." He agreed before taking a long breath. "I've actually only slept with two people in my entire life."
Santana's mouth hung open, her head cocking to the side. "What? Bull-shit!"
"It's true. There was my one time with you. And then there was my ex."
"Oh."
"We had . . . broken up a couple months back. I guess you can say we wanted different things. And . . ."
"And?"
". . . She cheated on me."
Santana's expression fell completely, her eyes dropping down. "So . . . that's why. With Wes. The no sharing thing."
"It's me and me alone or not me at all." David explained. "We had known one another since we were kids, Hannah and I. Our parents were friends and would set us up on play dates. Soon play turned into real and we started going out. We were together almost all though out high school and were going to start living together after college . . . but then that happened." David laughed bitterly, sighing heavily as he leaned back in his chair, eyes gazing out the window. "You know, I used to think sex was supposed to be with someone you love."
"Its not." Santana told him. Their eyes met and for a second, David thought he would start crying. "You don't have sex when you love the person. It's so much more than that. Sex is used by people with a connection and actually that care about the people. While fucking is the exact opposite of each. You can't let some . . . ditz who couldn't keep her legs closed for anyone else but her man make you lose sight of that."
David stared at the woman before him. The same woman who first snubbed him to sleep with his one of his best friends for an extra fifty dollars. And the same woman sitting with him now, drinking coffee, and telling him not to lose hope.
"You're smart, you know that?"
"We've had coffee how many times and you're just realizing that?" Reaching forward, Santana takes her cup, lifting it in the air. "Let's make a cheer."
"To what?" David asks, doing the same with his glass.
"To sex . . . money . . . and doing whatever the fuck we want."
"I'll take that." David says, tapping his cup against hers before bringing it his mouth for a sip. "So, truth or dare?"