The final part.
This chapter has not been beta checked like my other chapters have, but I did proofread before posting.
And so this is how it all ends. Sure, it's a little saccharine sweet at the end, but what are you going to do. Also, I rather went off on a bit of a tangent towards the end, but I just couldn't find a good place to end it.
And now, part three of Porcelain Rose.

Kurt's arms hung loosely around the older man's neck, but his eyes never met his for more than a moment. With flaxen hair and deep green eyes, the man might have been attractive twenty years ago. Now, he was probably fifty with a loving wife and a kid in Harvard, and after he was done here, he would go back to them and his well-paying job. And Kurt would be left here, same as he always was.

It was over almost as soon as it started, Kurt barely even playing along with his pleasure. And then he was taken again in a different angle. He was scarcely even hard - not that the man above him would notice.

After about a half hour of doing what he could to satisfy the man, he was left on his own again. His arousal was gone within a few moments without him even having to take care of it, considering there wasn't much to 'take care of' anyways. Instead, he simply laid face-down on the dark duvet of the bed, thinking about the one night of almost-happiness he had had with Dave. But thinking about that only forced him to remember that it had been a little over three weeks and the former-bully had stayed true to his word. He hadn't come back to the Blooming Rose since that one night, and all Kurt's idiotic dreams of maybe being with someone were smashed. It was absurd of him to even hope for some sort of fucked up idea of love.

Love had never been kind to Kurt Hummel anyways. Perhaps once in high school he thought he had it with Blaine, but it had been just that; high school love. Kurt began to realize that the only reason Blaine dated him was because Kurt acted like a doting teenage girl in one of those horribly cliché teen movies. The last straw had been a one Sebastian Smythe and Blaine's indiscretion with him. If Kurt had known what would happen with his post-high school boyfriend, though, he would have forgiven Blaine in a heartbeat.

But Kurt was no psychic. After high school, he traveled to New York to attend Julliard to study drama. It was at a party halfway through his Freshman year that he met Marc Scélérat. Kurt was instantly infatuated by his dark hair and thick, French accent. They would share coffees together, talk in Marc's native tongue, and when they made love, even the filthiest of language sounded like poetry against Kurt's ear.

Happiness was short-lived, though, and before he had even finished his first year of college, Kurt was drugged and captured by the workers of the Blooming Rose. Marc, he was told, had a very high debt to pay to the brothel because of his visits. The owner of the Rose, a Mister Phillip Bradford, had agreed that Kurt would be sufficient payment for his debts. Of course, the Frenchman had agreed, and Kurt was meant to work off a debt that was not even his. However, Phillip had it arranged that only the highest payers were allowed to touch Kurt. Altogether, it was meant so that Kurt wouldn't be able to work off his debt until he was around forty, and by that time there would hardly be a use for him anymore anyways.

To the rest of the world, he had just fell off the edge of the earth. He was sure his father had paid to have it investigated, but obviously the search had come up fruitless, or Kurt would no longer be here. After eight years, he had given up hope. He had been nineteen when he was captured, and now, at twenty-seven, he had lost all hope of being anything except a courtesan.

He really wasn't sure how long he had been lying on the bed when one of the guards of the house came into the room without so much as a knock. Kurt was still lying naked, though he made no move to cover himself. "I know. I know. I'm going back to my room right now," he said, a little annoyed before sitting up. His bed was so much less comfortable than the one he was currently laying on, daydreaming.

"Mister Bradford would like to have a word with you, Porcelain." Kurt looked back at the guard with a quirked brow as he tugged on his pants. Phillip hardly ever talked to the boys of the house. Even Kurt, his 'favorite', had only talked with him maybe twelve times in his eight years.

"...Am I allowed to know what it's about?"

"You'll find out when you talk to him, now won't you?"

Kurt's lips formed an irritated line, but he nodded, albeit a bit stiffly. After pulling on his shirt, he followed the guard from the room down the hallway. When they reached the 'common room', as it was so aptly called, he noticed some of the fellow courtesans entertaining their own guests. No one noticed as he walked by, but that was scarcely a surprise. The customers were rather occupied by what they had bought.

After he was shown into Mister Bradford's office, Kurt walked quickly towards the desk. "What is this about, Phillip?" he asked as soon as the door was shut behind them. The man behind the desk gestured to the chair, and Kurt obediently sat down.

Phillip was nearing fifty, but somehow still very attractive. He had deep brown hair, a streak of gray accenting it like a bolt of lightning. His eyes were as dark as his hair, perhaps darker, and even in the dim light of the office, they glistened. His smile was unnaturally white and always curled in a sly smile. He reminded Kurt of a fox; beautiful and charming, but also cunning, sly, and dangerous.

Silence clung to the pair of them for a moment before Phillip's voice cut through it. "Kurt..."

That was enough to make Kurt's heard speed up to a heavy patter. Phillip hadn't used his name since he was first brought to the Rose, always calling him 'Porcelain' like everyone else. Jarred from thoughts as he began talking again, Kurt's light eyes found his dark ones in a moment.

"I'm afraid this will be the last time I speak with you. In a few minutes, you will be escorted from this room and into a car waiting outside, meant to take you anywhere you would like to go. You are also to be given a sum of two thousand dollars to be spent on whatever you would like, but I would suggest an apartment or a plane ticket."

Completely at a loss for words, Kurt's jaw fell open. He was free? Just...all of a sudden. He wasn't meant to pay off his debt until he was forty, and even then he wasn't supposed to have any spending money. "Wh-what?" he croaked out when he finally could form even the simplest of words.

Phillip wore that wry smirk that Kurt had grown accustomed to. It was that smirk in which the owner of the Rose knew more than his boys did, and so it came up quite often. His voice was even as he explained, "Your debt has been paid off by a very generous customer. He was even generous enough to pay two thousand extra to have you live comfortably when we released you."

Kurt, still utterly bewildered, had his mind working overtime to try and figure out exactly what was happening. The gears shifted and strained against themselves, turning the wheels of his mind. "...who?"

There were a few page turns on Phillip's side of the desk, and Kurt watched his dark eyes scan over the words idly until pinpointing what he was looking for with his fingertip. "A...Mister Karofsky."

"...Doctor."

"Ah...yes. Doctor Karofsky. Pardon. He seemed very adamant that you be released, willing to pay any amount he needed to. You must have given him quite a show," the owner remarked with a devious glint in his eyes. He knew. Kurt was sure of it. He wasn't sure what Dave had told him to make him release him, what sum they had agreed on, but he was sure that Phillip Bradford knew of what was between them. Then again, Phillip knew everything that went on behind the walls of the Rose.

Kurt sat in silence with his former owner of sorts for a few moments before he murmured a 'thank you, Phillip,' and walked from the room. A guard was outside the door, just as Phillip had promised, and lead him past the other boys, into a hallway in back. He was handed an envelope, obviously containing his two thousand. After that, he was escorted out back where a slick, black car was waiting for him. The car willing to take him wherever he wanted to go.

Sliding into it, Kurt looked at the interior. Instead of telling the man exactly where he wanted to go - something he had already decided on - he asked, "...is this a hotel car?" in a hesitant voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Which hotel?"

"The Ritz-Carlton, sir. Battery Park." Kurt's eyes darted to the rear view mirror, catching the driver's eye. He was surprised for only a moment. Of course Dave would have rented a room at one of the most luxury hotels in New York City. He had enough money to pay off his debt, after all.

Kurt's voice was firm and even as he said, "Take me there."

The ride there took about twenty minutes with traffic and all. All the while, Kurt was in the back fidgeting, still trying to make sense of the situation. He hadn't seen New York since he was nineteen, and now it was all rushing past him in a blur. He only slightly realized that he was in skin-tight pants, boots that came up to his knee, and a v-neck that came down low on his chest. It wasn't exactly fashionable, but who would recognize him?

When the car pulled outside the hotel, Kurt opened the door almost before it had stopped. He called out a 'thank you' to the driver, who gave him a puzzled look in return. Obviously, he had been expecting to drive him to an airport, not to the hotel.

Kurt on the other hand, had other ideas. He raced into the front desk, earning a few disapproving stares from the patrons. But whether that was because of his behavior or his attire was anybody's guess.

"Can you please tell me what room Doctor David Karofsky is in, please," he asked, breathless when he reached the front desk. The man behind the counter eyed him for a moment, obviously taking in his appearance. Suddenly, Kurt became hyper-aware of his skin-hugging shirt, jeans, and his hair, tousled from the sex he had had not an hour ago.

Obviously not in a position to turn him away, the desk clerk made a few clicks on the keys of the computer in front of him. "Doctor Karofsky is on floor fourteen, room 3119. He plans to check out today, though. In twenty minutes."

Once again, Kurt was on the run, this time to the elevator. He pressed the up arrow at least twenty times before a ding was emitted and the doors slid open. Kurt waited for the people to file out before he pushed himself inside, pressing the button labeled '14' and then pressing the 'doors close' button around five times before they did as instructed.

It seemed like an eternity before the doors opened and revealed a long hallway, and Kurt stood suddenly, paralyzed in the elevator. What was he doing? Dave had bought him from the Rose to free him, not to see him again. Dave probably didn't ever want to see him again, whether it was guilt or if the fantasy he had didn't live up. So what was Kurt doing here? Did he come to thank him, or tell him how he's been wishing he'd come back, or that he felt like he was more than just another customer? He didn't know, but something made him step out of the elevator and into the hallway.

After a few minutes of searching and light jogging through the halls in hopes of finding the room before Dave left, he finally came across room 3119.

He was about to knock when he noticed a shoe wedged in the door, keeping it open. It was a heel. With Kurt's fashion knowledge, he deduced that it was a Dolce & Gabbana pump made with purple leather and a suede sole. Expensive. More importantly, definitely not likely in Dave's wardrobe, unless...

Without thinking, Kurt picked up the shoe and pushed open the door. Within an instant, he saw a thin, tan girl with flowing black hair standing in only in a lacy bra and underwear. There were bags packed, and he could tell that she was attempting to dress herself.

"Babe, where's my shoe? I know I just threw it off last night when we got back from the bar. I found one, but where the fuck is the other one. Please don't tell me you threw it out the window again. Shoes are fucking expensive! If I see a hooker downstairs with one of my shoes again, I will go all Lima Heights!" she was yelling, and Kurt caught a glimpse of her face as well as a familiar voice and expression.

Walking farther into the room, he held out the violet heel. "...is this what you're looking for, Santana?" he asked in a small voice, part of his chest constricting. Santana was all-but naked in Dave's room. His original prediction of the larger man near a month ago had been correct. Dave had either a wife or a girlfriend, at it was his same beard as back in high school.

"Yeah, thanks," she said, not looking up at him for a moment before she grabbed the shoe out of his hand and obviously noticed how unfamiliar the hands were to her. Her dark eyes glanced up to his, studying him before she dropped the shoe and paled. "...oh...oh my god. Estás viva! Oh, dios mío, estás vivo! Dónde has estado?" she exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders roughly, as if to make sure he was still tangible.

Kurt only understood a bit of it, French being his secondary language rather than Spanish, but he could understand the general drift. There was still a sort of ache in his chest. What exactly had he been hoping for? To run into Dave's arms, thank him, and live happily ever after like some fairy tale? Maybe.

"...Hi Santana," was all he managed to say before he was wrapped in a bone-breaking hug.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Where the fuck have you been? Are you okay? You look skinny - well, skinner than normal. Oh my god, I can't believe you're here." Kurt managed a smile as Santana babbled on. Really, he was just wondering where Dave was. His silent question was soon to be answered though. "Babe! Get out here! You are so not going to believe this!" she yelled before disappearing into the bedroom.

And so Kurt was left in the living area of the hotel room. There was a blanket on the couch and a bed pillow, and he quirked a brow at that. He didn't have much time to ponder, however, before the bathroom door opened and a man walked out.

But it wasn't just a man. It was the exact man that he had come to see and had a fairytale forming in his head about.

It took a moment for Dave to realize he was there, as he was drying his hair, just a pair of jeans on, obviously going casual for his fly back to wherever home was for him. When their eyes locked, though, his hands fell from his head, clinging onto the towel. "...What are you-"

"You bought me," Kurt said suddenly, a little surprised by his own words. In truth, it had been almost a decade since he had been a free man, and it was a little hard to adjust to.

Dave was silent for a moment. "I thought you would go home. See...your dad or something. I don't know. Not come here." He looked toward the bedroom door for a moment. "...Santana freak out?"

Suddenly, Kurt was reminded of the Latina girl that he had gone to school with. She had gone into the bedroom to retrieve her 'babe', but Dave had come out of the bathroom, so...

Santana reemerged from the bedroom with a blonde girl in tow. The Latina stuck out her finger towards him, and the blonde pushed her golden hair from her eyes. Her face instantly lit up and Kurt recognized her in an instant. "...Brittany?"

"Unicorn!" the girl screamed, launching forward into Kurt's arms. She wasn't scarcely dressed like Santana was, instead having on a pair of jeans and a tight-fitting tee shirt with lace. Kurt quickly wrapped his arms around her, not realizing how much he had missed touch without lust and old high school nicknames.

The blonde finally backed away from him, going quickly to Santana and wrapping her arms around her waist. Santana was still looking in awe at him, obviously a thousand questions on her mind. Kurt was looking from the girls' position to Dave and then to the luggage on the floor. It was Dave who jarred them all from their silence.

His voice came deep as he grabbed a red dress-shirt from the couch and began buttoning it. "...We've got about ten minutes to get down there and checked out, guys, so...Maybe we can talk on the plane?" His eyes found Kurt's as he finished the last button. "...Kurt?"

"I'm coming with you," the former-courtesan shot back quickly, without thought. He had no idea where Dave was going, but he felt...obligated to go.

Dave didn't object as Kurt thought he would. Instead, he simply nodded and picked up a dark gray vest, leaving it open over his dress shirt but tucking the crimson material into his jeans. "I'm dropping San and Britt back in Columbus, then I'm visiting my parents for a couple weeks while I'm in Ohio. You can come with and visit your dad or whatever you need to do."

"Yeah, people in Lima have been going crazy. And so has everyone in Glee," came Santana's voice as she pulled on a low-cut, violet shirt. She had on a pair of skinny jeans now, and Kurt watched as she leaned down to pick up the purple shoes, one-half of the pair that had recently been found by Kurt. "You were here one day, then gone the next. People just about shit. What the hell happened, Lady Lips?"

"Fucking charming, San," Dave's voice cut in. The Latina gave a shrug. "But you should go see your family and call everyone. Tell them you're safe. But not right now. We don't have time. We need to check out. Let's go."

And with that, the four of them were out the door, and Kurt was wondering how the hell he had gotten here.

Two weeks later, and Kurt was well-fed, well-cried over, and well-dressed once more.

The night he had shown up on his father's doorstep, Burt had just about collapsed right there. Kurt had spoken fast, pleading his dad not to overreact, to take deep breaths, telling him that he was fine. When finally his father had calmed down, Kurt had been taken into the living room and made to recant the last eight years of his life, skipping most of the details. He did, however, tell them everything that Dave had done for him. When the asked him where he had been, Kurt told them. An investigation was being done on the Blooming Rose, but only for people that had been sold there and were not working there on their own terms. Kurt had told the FBI that he wouldn't testify against Phillip in court, though. He had always been decent to him, and he had never been mistreated...for the most part.

Carole had, of course, coddled him and fed him until he pushed the food away. Finn came home with his fiancee, Natalie to visit. Rachel, Mercedes, Quinn, Puck, everyone was at the Hummel-Hudson house at some point. Even Blaine had come, without Sebastian (big surprise there).

He didn't know how many times he had recanted the story, but each time it became a little less unbelievable. Like it wasn't as if he had let his body be used by countless numbers of men over the years. Even some of his friends found the story far-fetched, but they believed him. How couldn't they? Kurt Hummel wasn't one to just disappear without a word, and when they saw the bruises and heard what Dave had to say, they had to believe.

Dave had visited quite often, surprising Kurt each time he saw his face. Finn had wrapped him in a hug the first time he saw him, and so had Burt. Even with all the friends and family milling around, though, it wasn't hard for Kurt to get Dave alone to talk.

"...where are you going after this?" Kurt asked one night, sitting outside on the porch swing in the autumn air with Dave. "I want to come with you, wherever it is."

"San Fransisco, but-"

"California..." the smaller man murmured dreamily, cutting the other off. California would be a nice change from what he had known before. All the sun, the beaches. Even if it was San Fransisco.

When he came back from his thoughts, he noticed a pair of hazel eyes on him. Kurt sucked his lip between his teeth, worrying it for a moment.

Dave's brows were furrowed, those beautiful hazel eyes holding a sort of strange sort of emotion that Kurt couldn't quite place. The ex-courtesan's stomach sank like it had when he told him he would never return to the brothel. "...Kurt..." he started.

"Are you leaving me here like you left me in that brothel? Am I never going to see you again? That's bullshit, Karofsky, and you know it!" Kurt yelled, standing from the swing suddenly and staring down at the man.

"No, Kurt... I just... I move around with work all the time. I can't settle down in one place like I'm sure you want to. Be...a family or whatever you want. I know you've spent all this time wasted and that's probably what you want, but I can't. Not now, anyways. I'm always in Montana, or Maine, or New Mexico. Sometimes Europe. I just can't give you what I want," the larger man explained.

Kurt stood wide-eyed, again trying to make sense of everything. A jagged breath left him finally, and he raked his hands through his hair. "...You don't get to tell me what I want, Hamhock."

Now it was Dave's turn to look with a wide-eyed gaze. "Fancy, I-"

"No!" Kurt yelled, eyes starting to brim. He wasn't going to wait with a bated breath for Dave to come back for him again. Dave had saved him when he thought he would never be saved. "You have no idea what I want. How can you? I don't even know what I want! So don't try to psychoanalyze me like one of your patients! I'm not!" He took a deep breath, calming down slightly. "I was inside one building for eight years until you saved me. The only thing I know anymore is that I want to stay with you. I feel safe with you. I want you. So let me be with you."

He had only slightly realize that he had begun crying. But suddenly his vision was blurred by his tears, and he didn't see as Dave stood up, wrapping two familiar, burly arms around him. Kurt wrapped his own arms around his neck, burying his face into the crook of his shoulder and crying. They stayed like that for almost an hour, Dave cradling him and Kurt just letting everything out at once.

Kurt set down his bags on the hardwood floor, looking up at the house. It was simple, one story, but two rooms. Giving a click of his tongue, he looked back at Dave. "I expected it to be bigger, Doctor Karofsky," he commented, teasing.

He could hear Dave's familiar rumble of a laugh, and then the other man's bags being placed down on the floor. "Yeah, well I'm not home much. So it works. And there's an extra bed for you."

"Well, I was thinking we could just share, but..." Kurt giggled after he spoke, then turned full around to face his savior, his new-found lover. As he walked towards him, he stood a bit more on his toes, leaning up to wrap his arms around his neck. "Thank you..."

"For what?"

"Everything."

And then Dave leaned down and kissed him, and it was slow and passionate. Everything Kurt had been lacking and everything he had ever wanted. Everything he had missed out on the last eight years of his life. And he was free and he was happy and he wasn't trapped. And Dave would still be there in the morning. And everything was going to be alright.

He could feel as his cheeks burst into a flaming color, and leaned farther into the kiss with a smile. He could feel something more in the kiss than just some sort of rose-tinted emotion. Love, he thought, or the first inklings of it. And he hoped, perhaps against hope, that this time Love would be kinder to him than it had been in the past. That it would grant him that 'happily ever after' ending he had always dreamed of. Maybe that was impossible, but he was sure they could achieve something close. Dave, after all, was his knight in shining armor. Himself, perhaps a damsel in distress. Perhaps a prince waiting to be rescued. Or maybe he was just a courtesan who was freed from a debt by his former bully.

Finally, he decided that names and labels were simply useless for what they had shared, for what had happened. It all came down to the same scenario, and psychoanalysis was Dave's forte.

And, besides, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.