A/N: I neglected to include the GKM prompt this is in response to when I posted the first chapter. Sorry! Here it is: Cinderella AU where Sam is the prince and Blaine is Cinderella. The ball is a masked ball, and instead of just dancing together at it they fuck. Blaine tops. Sam makes it his mission to find the guy and marry him, and the only way to do that is to get fucked by everyone to find out whose dick fits him perfectly like the stranger at the ball.

Some readers/reviewers were not happy to see Sam with someone other than Blaine in chapter one, and I'm sorry that my original summary was misleading. But now you are all warned!

"Blaine!"

Blaine turned from the window. "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing? I've been calling you for like ten minutes."

"I didn't hear you."

"Obviously."

"What do you want, Jesse?"

"Watch the bitchiness! I'm trying to ask you if you ironed my socks."

Blaine sighed. "Yes. I ironed your socks."

"Because they don't look ironed."

"They're socks, Jesse."

"Oh, I get it. This is because you actually wanted to go to the ball, isn't it? I mean, what you think you'd do there I have no idea. Other than make an ass of yourself swooning over Prince Finn."

"Not exactly," Blaine said distractedly. He had his invitation safely tucked inside a cookbook where no one but him would ever look. A note had come inside it: Await further instructions. But there hadn't been any; he hadn't heard from Kurt at all. He was starting to wonder whether he had imagined the whole thing—though every time he checked, the invitation was really there. But the ball was tonight, and if the further instructions weren't forthcoming, then he had to figure some stuff out.

How to get to the palace was the first one. Rachel and Jesse were taking Jesse's car, and they had left Rachel's at school. So that pretty much meant he'd have to take Shelby's...without her killing him. Or at least not killing him until afterwards.

Then there was the question of what he was going to wear. He didn't have anything even close to "evening wear." At least he had a mask, a plain gold one. Actually it was Rachel's, but she'd decided after she bought it that she needed one with jewels instead.

Blaine ended up ironing Jesse's socks again, while making sure his stepbrother watched so he couldn't claim not to believe they'd been ironed. And then Rachel yelled at him for wasting his time on ironing socks when she needed his help with a hair emergency. But, somehow, both his stepsiblings made it out the door while it was still light out: Rachel wanted to be there early enough to stake out a strategic place in the reception line for when the prince would make his entrance and greet everyone.

Shelby took dozens of pictures before letting them go. She stood in the driveway waving at them, even after the car had disappeared from view. When she came back inside she went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. "Isn't it exciting?" she asked Blaine as he was unloading the dishwasher.

"Uh-huh," he said, peering out the window. He really didn't think Kurt was going to show. At least if Shelby was going to get drunk, that would make taking the car easier.

"I wish I could have married a prince," she said. "I wouldn't be a young widow now, supporting three children by myself."

"Yeah, that would've been great," Blaine said.

"You're so stupid, Blaine. If I had married a prince, it wouldn't mean you would be royalty."

Blaine didn't respond to that. He glanced out the window again, and it was a good thing, because there was Kurt, standing right outside the kitchen window and gesturing at Blaine to meet him in the back yard. "Excuse me," he said, walking toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I think I saw a raccoon outside."

"Well, get rid of it!" Shelby shrieked. Raccoons freaked her out.

"Ready?" Kurt asked as soon as Blaine stepped outside.

"Well, not really," Blaine said, gesturing at his jeans and t-shirt. "I...I mean, Jesse has an old suit I can wear, I guess..."

Kurt got this amused look on his face. "Yes. By all means go put Jesse's suit on."

Blaine had really been hoping Kurt was going to help him out in the wardrobe department. But he certainly wasn't going to complain—the important thing was that he was going to the ball! He ducked back into the house and slipped up the stairs, hoping not to make a sound to alert Shelby. He locked the door to Jesse's room behind him and tried on the gray, polyester-blend suit. It wasn't that much too long for him.

Kurt appeared behind him in the mirror, laughing. "I can't believe you actually thought I'd let any godson of mine go the ball in that suit!" It was instantly transformed into an elegant white tie ensemble.

"Wow!" Blaine said. He didn't know anything about clothes or fashion, but even he could tell this outfit Kurt had put him in was of the highest quality. And it fit so well, like it had been custom-made just for him...which, actually, he guessed it had, in a way. "This is so...thank you!"

"You're welcome. But you don't get to keep that. At dawn it's going to turn back into your stepbrother's crappy suit."

"Of course, of course. Wait, dawn? Not midnight?"

"The ball will have barely gotten started by midnight. Why would I only give you till then?"

"I don't know. For some reason I thought—"

"Blaine!" Shelby yelled from downstairs. "Are you back in the house already? Are you sure the raccoon is gone?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "She's going to be a problem for us, isn't she?"

"Yeah, probably," Blaine said.

There was a scream from downstairs then, and the sound of something being knocked over, and the front door opening and slamming. Then Blaine's phone. It was Shelby. "Goddamn it, Blaine! You let the little fucker in the house! What is wrong with you?"

"Uh. Sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry? Blaine, that beast could have rabies! What if it had tried to bite me? What if it bites Lucifer? Of all the..."

Blaine was distracted from Shelby's ranting by the sight of Kurt literally rolling on the floor holding in silent laughter.

"I'll get rid of it."

"How?" Shelby demanded.

"Uh...animal control?"

"Animal control will take a couple hours to get there. What if it attacks poor Lucifer in the meantime?"

"Lucifer's in Rachel's room. I'll just shut the door and he'll be safe."

"You know Lucifer doesn't like being trapped in rooms."

"Yeah, but he probably doesn't like being bitten by rabid raccoons either."

"Goddamn it, Blaine. And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Maybe you can hang out at Terri's for a while."

There was a pause, and then Shelby snapped, "Fine. Call me when that thing is out of the house." She hung up without waiting for a response.

Kurt said, "Okay, get that mask from Rachel's closet."

Blaine didn't even wonder how Kurt knew about the mask, but he did wonder: "What about the raccoon?"

Kurt waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, I sent him back home as soon as your stepmother was out the door. Poor things hate being inside houses; I didn't want to upset him more than necessary."

Blaine got the mask and showed it to Kurt. "What are you going to zap this into?"

"I'm not going to zap it into anything, it's perfect."

"Well, I mean, it's fine. I wouldn't say perfect..."

Kurt gave him that amused look again. "Really. What would make it perfect, in your opinion?"

"Well, like...if it were a Batman mask or something. Or, like, not Batman specifically, but like, I used to draw this superhero I called Nightbird, and, I mean, I could show you a sketch of his mask if you wanted..."

Kurt shook his head fondly. "Okay, one: No. This gold mask is simple, elegant, and timeless. In short, perfect for a royal ball. I don't know what's wrong with your sister, choosing that hideous, tacky bejeweled monstrosity over this."

"Stepsister," Blaine corrected him.

"Right."

Blaine sighed. He knew he should probably just shut up and be grateful—and he actually was grateful, incredibly so—but he had to ask: "Is there a two?"

"There is a two, and it's that you're adorable."

"But still no to the superhero style?"

"Still no. Put it on." Blaine did. "Is it comfortable?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, it's all right."

"I didn't ask if it's all right, I asked if it's comfortable. Because you can't take it off."

"What, you mean they'll kick me out?"

"I mean that once you leave this house, that mask will be physically unremovable from your face until after the ball. It's a condition of you getting to go."

"Oh!"

"But I can make it comfortable first. Which is why I suggest you tell me now if it needs any adjustments."

"Um, actually it does pinch my nose a little..."

Kurt adjusted the mask until it fit so well Blaine barely even noticed it was there. And then he took it off and set it on Jesse's vanity.

"I thought it was stuck on my face until after the ball," Blaine said.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "After you leave this house, I said. Weren't you even listening? It's going to be a lot easier for me to do your hair with your mask off."

Blaine glanced in the mirror. He thought his hair looked fine. "What are you going to do to my hair?"

Kurt shook his head and made a sad clucking noise. "All these beautiful curls. It breaks my heart to do this, but I'm going to gel them into submission."

"What!? Why?"

"Because, Blaine, you have to be incognito." An open jar of gel appeared in one hand, and he looked at it distastefully, two fingers hovering over it. He quickly decided to apply the gunk without actually touching it.

"Isn't this overkill, though? I mean, I'll already have a mask on the whole time, and no one there will know me anyway, except for Jesse and Rachel."

"Oh, they're too self-absorbed; they wouldn't notice you even without a mask."

"So then..."

"So I can't take any chances. It's...kind of a fairy regulations thing," Kurt said. There was no way he was going to tell Blaine about his spat with the prince, but "fairy regulations," while vague, wasn't a lie. The regulations did say that fairies had to honor any agreements they made. "And for the same reason, you cannot tell anyone who you are, or give any clues about who you are."

"Not even just my first name?"

"Of course not. You think Blaine is a common first name in this kingdom? It's not a common first name anywhere."

"So what do I tell people if they ask my name?"

"You say, quote, 'Call me Darren,' unquote. See? That's not a lie, because you're not actually saying it's your name. You're just telling people to call you that. Got it?"

"Yeah, but...why Darren?"

"Why not Darren? You don't like it, pick a different name, I don't care. Just nothing that starts with B or ends with -aine."

Blaine looked in the mirror. He almost didn't recognize himself with his hair plastered to his head. At least it wasn't likely to get in his eyes when he danced, he thought, forcing himself to see a bright side. Kurt stood behind him and sized him up. "Let's just get the mask back on and you can be on your way."

"Um, okay, but how?"

"Just like you did before, 'Darren.' Hold it up to your face and tie it in the back."

"No, I mean...I don't have a car, and I'm sure Shelby took hers to go to Terri's..."

"Oh, right, transportation! Give me..."

"You want me to dig up a pumpkin from the garden?"

Kurt's mouth dropped open and he fixed Blaine with an incredulous stare. After several long seconds of silence he asked, "What on earth would I want a pumpkin for?"

Blaine blushed. "I just thought..."

Kurt waited.

"Never mind. What did you want me to give you?"

"Your phone, Darren. So I can download an app for you."

"Oh." Blaine handed over his phone, while apologizing, "It's not really a smartphone..."

Kurt flipped the phone open and inspected it with wonder. "Wow! Can you even text with this thing?"

"Yeah, but if I want to type an S I have to hit the 7 button four times."

Kurt shook his head sadly. "I'm really sorry I've neglected you so long, sweetie." He zapped it into the latest model iPhone, downloaded the Uber app, and handed it back. "My credit card info will disappear at dawn, but you can keep the phone."

"Fairies have credit cards? Really?"

"That's what you're choosing to question?"

"Nope! I'm good. Thank you for everything, Kurt!"

Kurt had to show him how to summon a driver. Blaine put the mask back on, got the invitation from the kitchen and tucked it in his pocket, and went with Kurt to wait on the front porch for the car. As they saw a white Jetta turn onto Blaine's block, Kurt asked, "Do we need to review your rules for tonight?"

"Uh...no telling anyone who I am and no taking off the mask."

"And...?"

"There's more?"

"You have to be out by dawn! Do you even pay attention?"

"Right. Dawn."

Kurt sighed with theatrical exasperation. "Sunrise is at 7:02 tomorrow. Maybe you should set an alarm for half an hour before that."

"Right." Blaine, unfamiliar with his new iPhone, poked around trying to find the alarm app. Kurt had to point out the picture of the clock. Blaine was still fiddling with it when the Uber driver pulled into the driveway. Kurt ushered him into the passenger seat and shut the door. The driver was taking the car out of park when Blaine said, "Wait!" He rolled down the window and held the phone out to Kurt. "Is this right?" he asked. He didn't want to accidentally break the rule about leaving by dawn because he had somehow set the alarm wrong.

Kurt looked at the phone and frowned. "This is set for 6:45. I suggested a half an hour."

"Oh, yeah, but I mean, it's not gonna take me that long to just walk out the door, is it?"

"Do you really want to run that risk?"

"Risk? No, but I mean...what actually happens if I don't make it out in time?"

Kurt made some sort of gesture to the driver, who started backing up into the street. Kurt smiled as they pulled away and said, "I don't know what'll happen. I guess I could turn you into a pumpkin. Want to find out?"

Blaine changed the alarm so it was set for 6:22.

.

Ryder escorted the prince to his dressing room. "Señor Martinez has a new apprentice," he informed Prince Samuel. "His security clearance checks out, but if you'd rather not have him there..."

"It's cool, I totally trust David." David Martinez had been Sam's tailor for as long as Sam could remember. He was probably in his forties now, but hot for an old guy. Sam had gotten a lot of boners over the years from David fitting him for new clothes.

He hadn't ever actually fucked him though. Not that he hadn't wanted to. David ignored his accidental boners and awkward teenage flirting for years. Sam thought maybe he was being too subtle, so he just came out and propositioned him while being fitted for an outfit for his eighteenth birthday party. He still remembered his rejection—in part because he usually only got rejected by straight guys (and by no means all of them), and in part because it actually made him realize something.

David had told him that he was flattered, of course, but that it would be too "icky" for him—not that there was anything icky about His Highness, he added quickly, but because of their relative ages and the fact that one of them was still technically a minor. And that even though that one would soon be a legal adult, David wouldn't be able to think of him that way.

And besides, he added, he had found that hooking up with people he had an ongoing professional relationship with rarely turned out well for everyone involved. Had the prince ever noticed the same thing?

The prince had not, in fact, ever noticed the same thing. He'd fucked that one guard a few times, before he quit. And his driver...before he quit.

Oh.

So, yeah, after that he stopped hitting on people who worked for him. Well, people who worked for him long-term.

It was a distinction that was sometimes important, like with David's new apprentice, Jeremiah. That and the fact that the guy worked for David, not for Sam.

Jeremiah was gorgeous. If David didn't have an unimpeachable reputation for professionalism, Sam would suspect he'd hired him for his looks.

Sam didn't necessarily have a "type," but sometimes a guy had a certain feature that just got to him, and with Jeremiah it was his hair. It was just a shade darker than his own and so wavy and so thick and he couldn't rid himself of the image of holding on to it while fucking the living daylights out of the guy.

"So, Jeremiah," Sam started as he was buttoning up the new white shirt that David had just handed him. "How long have you been working with David?"

"Not quite two months, Your Highness."

"Yeah? And what were you doing before that?"

"I was...I was working at The Gap, actually." Sam had no idea what The Gap was—he made a mental note to ask Ryder later—but based on the way Jeremiah said it he wondered if it was something seedy, like a strip club or something. As much as he liked the idea of Jeremiah stripping, he doubted it was that exactly. David probably wouldn't have hired him if that had been the case.

Or maybe he would have, because David scrunched up his nose slightly at the mention of The Gap and hastened to add, "Yes, well, everybody has to eat. But Jeremiah's portfolio is very impressive, all the more so for being completely self-taught."

"Cool." Sam smiled at Jeremiah. "Maybe you can make the suit for my wedding."

"Oh, no! I'm still just an apprentice!"

"That's all right, I won't be ready to get married for a long, long time," Sam said with a wink.

"There's no special...girl...then?"

"Jeremiah!" David snapped. "Your Highness, I apologize deeply for the impertinence of my—"

"It's all right, I like his impertinence," Sam said. To Jeremiah he added, "You're staying for the ball, right?"

Jeremiah, despite having been defended by the prince himself, was still a little chastened after being reprimanded by his boss. "No, Your Highness. I wasn't invited."

"Because I hadn't met you before! I'd never knowingly not invite someone so hot."

Jeremiah wasn't actually sure the prince was flirting with him. That is, it certainly seemed like he was, but...he was a prince! Not to mention pretty much the hottest guy on the planet. But the flirting just got more overt as the fitting went on.

Finally Señor Martinez took a step back and took one final look at the suit. "Esta perfecto. If I may say so, Your Highness."

"You may, and I agree. Beautiful work as always, David."

"Thank you, Your Highness." He gave a quick bow. "If there's nothing else, I'll just get Jeremiah back to the shop so we can find something for him to wear, since Your Highness has been so generous—"

"Actually," the prince said, "I'd like him to stay for a few minutes. If you can spare him. I'm sure we can arrange for a car to bring him back to the shop."

Señor Martinez hesitated for a few seconds. "Very well, Your Highness. May I...may I have a minute with him first?"

"Of course."

Señor Martinez took him by the shoulder and led him out into the hall. There was another guard out there, but Señor Martinez ignored him completely. Placing a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder, he said, "I'm sorry, maybe I should have warned you that this might happen, but..."

"Warned me?"

"You don't have to stay with him. He may be a prince, but he can't make you...I mean, he won't try to force you. I've heard a lot of rumors, but I've never heard anyone even suggest that he's ever tried to force anyone. But my point is that I want you to know you can say no, you don't have to feel pressured..."

"Pressured? Señor Martinez, I don't mean any disrespect, but I think you must be crazy if you think I'd want to say no to what I think Prince Samuel is going to ask."

"I see."

"No, I mean, I don't think you're crazy, obviously. It's just...you know, I'm young...and single...and he's so hot. And chances like this don't come around every day." Jeremiah was going to do this—whatever this the prince had in mind—regardless of what his boss thought about it. But he still hoped Señor Martinez would understand and not lose all respect for him.

Señor Martinez gave his shoulder a little pat. "Okay. I just had to make sure you knew you weren't obligated."

"Thank you, sir."

"And...you're not expecting it to be more than a one-time thing, I hope."

"No. No, of course not." Though wouldn't it be amazing if...But, no. Señor Martinez was right. Jeremiah was realistic enough to know that.

As soon as Jeremiah stepped back into the dressing room—alone—the guard stepped out. The prince walked over very close to him and asked softly, "Did he warn you about me?"

"Sort of. He said I didn't have to let you...But, Your Highness, I want you to."

That was all the prince needed to hear, apparently, and he started removing the clothing that Jeremiah and Señor Martinez had so carefully helped him into. Jeremiah felt vaguely like he was supposed to be taking his own clothes off too, but he couldn't help but just watch. Jeremiah had seen a few pictures of the prince in swim trunks, so he sort of already knew about his chest and his abs, but seeing them up close and in person was just...wow. By the time he got a look at the royal dick, as hard and pink and tall as he ever would have imagined, Jeremiah was almost literally swooning.

He didn't get to look for long. As soon as the prince was undressed, he pushed Jeremiah up against the wall and started nibbling on his neck while unbuttoning his shirt. "I wanted to do this from the second I saw you," he said, right before he moved the nibbling down to his chest and unbuttoned Jeremiah's pants.

"You could have, Your Highness," Jeremiah blurted out. "In front of my boss, your guards...I wouldn't have minded."

"Wanky," the prince said. "You know my guards are right outside the door. I'm not gonna invite them in or anything, but feel free to be as loud as you want."

Jake and Ryder heard a loud groan come from inside the dressing room. Ryder wanted to pretend to ignore it, but Jake gave a little smirk and said, "Looks like His Highness found one with an exhibitionism kink."

"He probably doesn't realize," Ryder said.

"No one groans that loud without realizing that someone's gonna hear."

Ryder didn't answer. He hadn't been talking about the apprentice anyway, he meant Prince Samuel. He was pretty sure the prince had no idea how hard it was for Ryder, hearing him fuck any and every guy in the kingdom...except for him.

There was another groan, louder than the first. It went straight to Ryder's gut, and he let out a little noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

Jake looked at him sympathetically. "You okay, man? You need to take a break?"

"No." Guards to the prince didn't get to just take a break. He really needed to get his shit together before someone other than Jake caught him being unprofessional. It was just hard, when he could imagine in such vivid detail what the prince was probably doing to that lucky bastard right now.

The prince, in fact, had the lucky bastard face down on the chaise longue right now and was stretching him with oil-coated fingers.

Jeremiah was vaguely aware of the scent of coconuts suddenly filling the room. He didn't care about that, though. He was only interested in the fact that the prince's fingers were inside him, that the prince was actually going to fuck him. He still couldn't believe Señor Martinez thought he might not want this. Who wouldn't want a gorgeous prince to be their first!?

This Jeremiah guy had such a sweet little ass. So tight. Oh, uh... "Have you done this before?"

Jeremiah froze for a second. Would the prince stop if he told the truth? Not wanting to take the chance, he said, "Yeah, of course."

Sam repositioned the boy in front of him, scooting him up so his elbows rested on the head rest. Sam loved hearing guys scream for him, and he didn't want Jeremiah to be muffled by the cushions.

Jeremiah held onto the head rest and spread his legs as wide as he could. He felt the prince moving around behind him, and he couldn't believe this was really about to— "Oh! Ooooh!" The prince's cock was inside him! It was pushing in deeper and deeper, and all he could do was let his head drop and groan deeply.

"Yeah?" Sam asked. He pulled out and thrust in again, a little faster than the first time. "You like that?"

Jeremiah answered with another groan, and Sam knew just what he meant. He kind of missed it already...taking it, that is. Not that giving it wasn't also pretty great. Really great, actually. In fact, about the only thing that could make this better is if he had those fistfuls of hair he was picturing earlier.

"Lift your head up."

Jeremiah obeyed immediately, realizing with chagrin that the prince had asked him a direct question and he hadn't even answered it. "Yes, Your Highness," he answered belatedly, feeling the prince's hands working their way into his hair. "Yes, thank you, I love it." And he did love it, so much that he didn't even care that it kind of hurt.

The groans from inside the prince's dressing room turned to yelps, and the yelps grew louder and faster together. Ryder thought he could hear the slapping of skin against skin, but that was probably his imagination: the walls were very solidly built, after all. He knew he wasn't imagining the occasional actual words coming out of the boy's mouth:

"God!"

"Fuck!"

"Your Highness!"

He didn't know why—it wasn't like it was the only time he ever heard it—but Sam really got off on guys calling out Your Highness while he fucked them. "Say that again," he instructed Jeremiah.

Jeremiah wasn't sure what he'd just said that the prince liked. "Your Highness?"

"Yeah. Scream it when you come."

And then the prince reached around and started stroking him, then jerking him, and it was so overwhelming and Jeremiah still had no idea what he was supposed to scream when he came, which he was about to do any second now, until at the last possible second it dawned on him and he wailed: "Yo-...Your Highness!"

Fuck, that was hot. Between the screaming and the muscles tightening around his dick, Sam soon found himself unloading inside that cute little ass.

And Jeremiah, he was perfect, he didn't shut up for a second. "Oh god oh god Your Hiiiiiighness!"

Oh god, Ryder echoed in his thoughts. This was the worst part, hearing the guys come. He glanced at Jake, standing there so stoically, and muttered under his breath, "Must be nice."

"Yeah, I'd say the kid thinks it's pretty nice," Jake agreed.

Ryder blushed. He hadn't even meant to say anything out loud, much less for his partner to actually hear it. But then, he knew that Jake already knew how he felt, so... "I actually meant you," he said.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you know. Being all...straight and everything and...able to listen to this kind of thing without it...affecting you..."

Jake chuckled a little. Since Ryder was finally sort of admitting what was going on with him, Jake decided he may as well share too. "You're right, I have it easier than you. I'm not in love with him."

"I wouldn't say I'm—"

"But I'm not all straight, like you said."

"You're...not?" This was definitely news to Ryder!

"No. Mostly I am, but I mean...I've accepted blow jobs from guys on occasion."

"Yeah, well, big deal," Ryder said. "I might accept one from a girl."

"Sure," Jake said. "But also...No, His Highness fucking random guys really doesn't...affect me, as you put it. But when that fairy shows up and..." Jake couldn't actually bring himself to say when he fucks His Highness. "When His Highness is, you know, on the bottom? I'd give anything to be the fairy at those times."

"Oh. Wow." Ryder let this new information about his partner sink in. "How do you never let it show?"

"Years of practice," Jake said, shrugging. He was older than Ryder and had been working for the prince for a lot longer. "Plus, like I said, not being in love with him."

Ryder didn't bother to deny it this time.

The guy quieted down finally, thank god. The hallway was silent for several minutes until the door opened. The prince looked as handsome as ever, and completely put together. A little more relaxed-looking than earlier maybe, but nothing anyone would be able to put their finger on. The apprentice, on the other hand, looked completely wrecked. His face was flushed and damp, his hair was disheveled, and he had missed a button on his shirt. Lucky bastard.

"Ryder. Find Jeremiah a car and a driver."

"Yes, Your Highness." Ryder started down the hall, gesturing for Jeremiah to follow him.

Sam stood in the hall and watched the two of them leave. After they'd turned a corner he asked Jake, "Do you think he's okay?"

"Ryder?"

"No, the guy. Jeremiah. Do you think he was crying? I mean, not just in the screaming sense, which obviously he was..."

"Not that I noticed, Your Highness."

But Sam was pretty sure...when he looked at Jeremiah afterward, at his face, it seemed like there were tears. It could have just been sweat, but...well, he hoped he hadn't hurt him. Jeremiah did say it wasn't his first time, Sam was sure of that, and he never asked Sam to be gentler. Still, though. Sam was a little worried.

Jeremiah followed the guard down a back staircase. He was glad they weren't side-by-side, because Jeremiah could feel himself blushing. It had seemed really hot to him at the time, knowing that the two guards knew exactly what was going on. Now, though, it was somehow kind of mortifying. Not that he was ashamed or anything, obviously, but...he sort of wished he hadn't been quite so loud about it.

Not that he necessarily would have been able to help it if he'd tried, especially at the end. It was very, very...intense...at the end. He was pretty fucking sore now, actually.

He was glad, when they started walking, that the guard wasn't talking to him. But it was a long way to wherever the cars were, and the longer they walked in silence, the more awkward Jeremiah felt. He knew it was probably better to just keep his mouth shut, but he found himself blurting out, "So, does he always—"

"My job is simple," Ryder cut him off. "Sometimes I see everything, and sometimes I see nothing. What I never do is gossip about what I have or have not seen."

"Oh, but I just meant—"

"It's fine."

They walked a few more steps in silence before Jeremiah spoke again. "It's just, you'll think I'm insane, but I think I'm sort of in love with him."

Ryder didn't think it was insane at all. What he did think would be insane, though, would be him allowing this conversation to continue. Looking straight ahead, he asked, "What address would you like the driver to take you to?"

.

"You're cute," the middle-aged Uber driver said when he took off down Blaine's street. "What's your name?"

Blaine tried to answer. It wasn't that he was deliberately trying to disobey Kurt's rule against saying who he was, but it didn't even occur to him that the rule applied to the Uber driver. Apparently it did, though, because he physically couldn't get his mouth to form the word Blaine. "Uh, call me Darren."

"Nice to meet you, Darren. I'm Sandy."

"Nice to meet you."

"So Kurt's great, right?" Sandy asked.

"Yeah! He got me an invitation to the ball! And he's paying for my ride with you."

"Yes, but that's not what I meant. I meant sexually."

"Oh." Blaine frowned to himself. "You've, uh...you've had sex with Kurt?"

"Not for a long, long time. His preference is for young men," Sandy said, sighing. Then he leered in the rearview mirror and added, "Of course, so is mine."

Blaine wondered how old Kurt could have been when they had sex, if Sandy could have been considered young at the time. He found thinking about that preferable to thinking about the weird way Sandy kept looking at him. The weird way Sandy kept looking at him was something he decided to ignore.

So he wasn't really looking into the front seat at all until the car jerked to the left and startled him. He saw Sandy grab onto the steering wheel, which meant he had apparently let go of it. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine, fine," Sandy said distractedly. "I used to be a lot better at rolling a joint while driving."

"What!?"

Sandy held up the joint and a lighter. "You want the first hit? On the house."

"No!" Blaine said. "You're not going to smoke that while you're driving, are you?"

"Relax," Sandy said, just before he lit the joint and inhaled deeply.

While Sandy held in the smoke, Blaine looked around, assessing his situation. They were on the highway already, so it wasn't like he could just get out. Maybe if he asked nicely... "I really wish you wouldn't..."

Sandy let out a cloud of smoke in a huff. "I drive better when I'm high," he insisted. "Besides, it would be impossible for me to crash now. I'm working under one of Kurt's charms."

"One of Kurt's charms?"

Sandy stared at Blaine in the mirror. Blaine was just about to beg him to please look at the road when Sandy did so on his own. But then he glanced back quickly in the mirror and said, "You must know about Kurt. I mean, mustn't you? I assumed you're one of his fairy godsons too...or else...why would he..."

"Too? You've met other fairy godsons of Kurt's?"

Sandy started giggling then. "Fairy godsons! That doesn't even make any sense! Because we're not the fairies, he is. But you knew what I meant, right? Or did you? Did what I say even make any sense?"

"Yeah, yeah, I knew what you meant," Blaine assured him. "But I mean...you're his fairy godson? But...Oh! He must not age, right?"

"Right. Lucky bastard. Heh, that's a funny expression. I don't know if fairies even have parents, much less if fairy society expects them to be married before having babies. I doubt it. I mean, given Kurt's attitudes toward sex. Though of course he's a gay fairy, so..."

"So has he helped you much?"

"He fucked me when I needed to get laid. Again, this was years ago, but...And I'm a bottom, in case you're interested."

Blaine had no response to this.

Sandy studied him in the mirror again. "No? Not interested? Ah well, I guess you're a bottom too. That's okay, we're just not compatible."

Again, Blaine had no response. But Sandy kept looking at him in the mirror, so he felt like he had to say something. "So...has he helped you in other ways?"

"Sure. He got me this job with Uber after I got fired for supposedly sexually harassing a student, which obviously was bullshit."

"Oh." Somehow Blaine wasn't entirely convinced that the charges were bullshit.

"And he sends business my way, like you. And he tips well, though why not? Money to him is like nothing."

"Sure. Still, it's nice."

"Yeah. Because money to me isn't nothing."

"Right."

"It's definitely something. It's, like, literally the opposite of nothing."

"Yeah, you need money to live," Blaine agreed.

"To live! Exactly! Oh, and that's another thing! The charm, so I don't crash!"

"That's very nice too," Blaine agreed, sincerely grateful for the charm at the moment.

"Though now that I think about it," Sandy said, "that may just work for when I'm driving Kurt around."

"Oh, fuck," Blaine muttered to himself, checking that his seatbelt was on tight.

But they made it safely to the palace. Sandy giggled a lot and blabbered on and on, but he didn't actually do anything terrifying with the car. So maybe the charm did work after all. Or maybe they were just lucky.

The line to get inside was kind of long, but it kept moving. Blaine didn't mind, anyway; he was just excited to be there.

At some point he noticed that the two women in front of him in line were holding hands. And he was...okay, he was kind of shocked. Like in a good way, but he just couldn't believe that they'd be doing it right out in open, at the palace of all places. He didn't realize he was staring until the brunette one snapped at him, "Take a picture, it'll last longer!"

Blaine felt himself blush, which he hoped the mask was making not too obvious. "I'm sorry!" he said. "I'm not...I actually think it's great! I was just surprised because...I mean, isn't the royal family pretty conservative?"

The two women exchanged surprised glances and then burst out laughing. The blonde one said, "You've never met them, have you?"

"You have?"

"Sure. Princess Quinn came to our wedding."

"Seriously!?"

"Let me guess," the brunette said, "you only know about them from TV and magazines."

"And the internet," Blaine added weakly.

"It's actually the media that's conservative, and so they portray the royals that way too," the brunette said. "Actually they're pretty open-minded."

"And super nice," the blonde added.

"Well...Princess Quinn can be kind of a bitch sometimes," the brunette said.

Blaine actually gasped out loud in shock.

The brunette laughed. "Hey, I can say it. I went to boarding school with her for four years."

"Don't say it like that, Santana. She was your best friend besides me."

"And my worst enemy." Santana saw the pouty look her wife was giving her and said, "But, no, you're right, Brittany. Anything bad between us, that was all back in high school."

Brittany and Santana talked to each other for a while then, and Blaine took a step back so as not to eavesdrop or anything. But when they were almost to the door, he noticed their conversation had lulled, and he decided to take his last chance to ask what he was dying to know: "Do you know Prince Samuel too?"

Brittany looked startled for a second, like she'd forgotten that they'd been talking earlier or that he was even there. But her confusion passed quickly and she answered, "A little. He came to visit Princess Quinn at school a couple times, but he was a lot younger than us then."

Santana added, "Of course, he still is younger than us."

"Is he?" Brittany asked. "But he's not a little kid now. He's totally hot. Now I'd do him...I mean, if I wasn't married to you."

And then Santana said something to Brittany, and Blaine almost thought it sounded like, "And if he wasn't gay."

"What?" he asked. But Brittany and Santana were at the head of the line then, and just as he was asking this they were being taken inside to get checked out by palace security. He tried again, desperately yelling, "What? WHAT!?" even after he knew there was no chance they could hear him anymore.

He only stopped yelling when a guard summoned him inside. "Invitation?"

Blaine handed it over distractedly, gaping at the décor. It was just like all the pictures he'd seen—this very hall being (according to his high school textbook) one of the premiere examples of the Dwightian style, named after King Dwight I and similar to Rococo but much more over-the-top. But in person it was so much more impressive than the pictures let on!

Karofsky frowned at the invitation this wide-eyed kid had just handed him. It looked legit—it had the tell-tale colored fibers in the paper and the royal watermark in the right place—but it didn't have a name on it. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was sure he was going to need back-up, so he discreetly sent a message to Azimio, another guard. Not wanting to alert the apparent intruder that he knew anything was up, he casually asked, "ID?"

"Excuse me?" Blaine asked when he realized the guard was talking to him.

"I asked to see your ID, please."

"Oh, but...I don't have it."

"Mm-hmm. Would you remove your mask for me, please, sir?"

"No, but...I can't! It's a masked ball, right?"

"Yes, of course, sir. Once you're inside. Obviously we can't let people into the palace without knowing who they are."

"But...I didn't know!"

Another guard, even bigger than the first (whose size Blaine hadn't really noticed until this moment) showed up, and the two exchanged a glance. The first one made a signal to the second, who looked at Blaine and said, "Would you come with me, sir?"

"Kurt! Kuuurt!" Blaine yelled as he was being whisked away down a concealed stairway.

Kurt was in his favorite fairy wine bar, trying to relax with a well-earned glass of Sauvignon blanc, when he heard Blaine's cries. Honestly, this boy was getting to be so much trouble. He turned to his friend Mercedes, sighed, and said, "A godmother's work is never done" as he prepared to look into whatever the big emergency was.

"You're off the clock, Kurt," Mercedes told him. "Sometimes we just have to step back and let our wards figure things out for themselves. It's good for them." She signaled the bartender for another couple glasses of wine.

But Kurt had already checked and realized Blaine's current predicament was entirely his fault. Not that he would admit this to Mercedes, of course. He stood and said, "I know. I should. But I have a soft spot for this one."

"Soft spot?" Mercedes asked. "Or hard-on?"

"You know me too well. I'll be back in a jiff."

He appeared not in the room Blaine was being held in but in the hallway outside the prince's dressing room where Jake was standing guard. "I need a favor," he announced.

Jake, completely unfazed by Kurt's sudden appearance, didn't turn to look at him. He did, however, let a half-smile form on his lips. Kurt had asked for favors a couple times in the past, never without offering something in return. "What can I help you with?"

"First I want to point out that this is all your boss's own fault."

This did surprise Jake. He didn't know what Kurt was talking about, but how he could be there because of something that was his boss's fault he really had no idea. "What did she do?" he asked.

"She?" Kurt asked. Then he realized Jake was thinking of the head of palace security. "No, not that boss. Sam."

"Oh, that boss." This surprised Jake much less. He knew the prince and his fairy godmother were arguing.

Kurt explained the problem, pointing out several times that it was Sam who insisted on not knowing who Kurt's godson was.

"So you'd like me to do what?" Jake asked at the conclusion of Kurt's story.

"Vouch for him, obviously. Get him into the ball."

Jake considered the request. "Can you promise me he won't hurt the prince or anyone else?" He knew Kurt was absolutely bound to his word—it was the reason he couldn't just let the godson remove his mask and show his ID.

"I promise my godson won't physically harm anyone," Kurt replied.

"Really? You have to specify physically? Like, what, he's going to call people rude names or something and hurt their feelings?"

"Probably he won't do that; he's very polite. But I can't guarantee that Sam won't fall in love and get his heart broken."

Jake just shook his head, but he let it go. "And you're offering the same thing you've offered for my help in the past?"

"Of course, Tripod," Kurt said, smiling.

Jake smirked a little at Kurt's nickname for him. "Okay. If I can get away when Ryder gets back."

"I'll be waiting in the linen room."

Kurt hated waiting, especially when it meant missing out on wine and gossip. But, well...Jake was just as tasty as any wine. Plus, of course, Blaine needed his help, yada yada yada. So he made himself comfortable on a pile of royal linens and waited.

And it wasn't actually that long before Jake slipped in, announcing, "I can only be gone a couple minutes."

"Like it ever takes me longer than that with you."

"I can last as long as I want to," Jake said. He just never saw any reason to hold back with Kurt.

"I'm sure you can," Kurt said. "And if I ever ask you for a big enough favor to let you fuck me for, I'll expect you to."

"You'd like me fucking you as much as I would like doing it—hell, you'd like it more. So don't try to get any favors out of it if you ever do offer."

Kurt had to admit that Jake had a point—but only to himself, obviously. To Jake he said, "If you're in such a hurry, why are your pants still on?"

This time it was Jake who had to admit that Kurt had a point, and he pushed his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh. He wasn't totally hard yet, but he knew Kurt could get him there quickly enough.

Kurt licked his lips at the sight of Jake's semi-erect cock. It was among his current favorites—especially with Sam holding out on him now, the ingrate. It was probably the biggest, for one thing: bigger than Sam's, bigger than Kurt's own, even. And size wasn't everything, but it wasn't nothing. It really was a shame that he wasn't going to be able to take his time to properly enjoy blowing his favorite (yes, still his favorite, despite Sam's recent bout of brattiness) godson's guard.

But Jake was impatient—even when they'd done this in the past without being under the same time constraints—and not just impatient but bossy. Aggressive, even. Kurt wouldn't allow most guys to push him to his knees and shove their dicks in his mouth, but he did let Jake get away with it. It was because he owed Jake...or that was his official explanation, anyway, not that Jake ever asked (or anyone else ever knew). But the truth was he loved it. The truth was he could have easily thought of another way to get Blaine inside the palace, but he sometimes craved this kind of treatment from a hot, mostly straight guy with a big dick who would just use him to get off. And Tripod fit that description better than anyone he could think of.

Jake held the back of Kurt's head in place, fingers tightly gripping his hair...probably pulling it pretty hard in fact, but Kurt wasn't complaining. "Suck it," he ordered. Pushing in steadily he added, "Fucking gag on it."

Kurt was actually very practiced at taking big dicks down his throat without gagging, but he pretended to choke anyway...not to humor Jake so much as because he himself found it hot. He gagged every time Jake shoved that glorious cock down his throat, until Jake got worried about the noise and told him to shut the fuck up. It was easy enough to shut up the gagging, but the moans—which were not fake—were somewhat harder to control. Luckily the giant dick in his mouth was stifling some of the noise.

Jake fucked Kurt's mouth like he hadn't gotten laid in ages and might never again. In fact it wasn't that far from the truth—he was working most of the time and never really got to even meet anyone, after all. And even when he did get out, he had never met anyone who gave head like Kurt. The guy was a champ, taking Jake's cock all the way down his throat and acting like he loved every second of it...which Jake didn't actually doubt. If he thought regular gay men were all like this, he might switch to Team Homo full-time.

True to his word, Kurt managed to bring Jake to the brink of orgasm in a remarkably brief amount of time. Despite his earlier assertion that he could if he wanted to, Jake wasn't at all sure that he could have lasted very long if he'd tried. Not that this bothered him when Kurt gave one last super-suctiony suck and he felt himself starting to unload right down his pretty little fairy throat.

Kurt remembered that Jake tended to come a lot, so he tightened the seal of his mouth so as not to let any escape. It probably wasn't necessary—Jake was huge, so it wasn't like there was really any extra room—but Kurt just liked to be sure because he was as big a slut for jizz as he was for cock. (Not that Kurt considered sluttiness a bad thing in the least. People who did—and, yes, it was mostly people—were so weird.)

There was as much of it as he expected, and Kurt groaned as spurt after spurt of come nailed the back of his throat. Each blast made his own dick get harder and harder. He needed badly to get off, but he thought that would be "too gay" for Jake, so he used all his restraint to not touch himself and just enjoy the hot, creamy load sliding down his throat.

Jake, meanwhile, was shaking from the force of his release. It really had been a while, he guessed. Plus, Kurt just had these skills...

When he finally stopped trembling and caught his breath, he saw that his clothes were fully in place again. It was a good thing, too: he was way too relaxed now to feel like doing anything except maybe take a nice nap.

"Off you go then," Kurt said, just as Jake was letting his eyelids droop. "The boy in question will answer to the name Darren."

Oh, shit. Right. He had a full night ahead of him, starting with rescuing this not-really-Darren. He reluctantly left the linen room on not-too-steady legs. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he heard what sounded like Kurt groaning again.