The Escort
Chapter Three
By Kurtofsky4eva
Summary: Kurt Hummel is the highest-paid escort at Arena, New York's elite agency that provides the very best. He is sought-after by both men and women and no one knows what his real preference is. Story includes cross-dressing, role-play and light BDSM. Rated M for content and language.
Disclaimer: I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.
Kurt never did explain to Fayed what had happened in the past with Noah and he never pressed him. Kurt had returned to his former vivacious self that night. They did make love but Fayed realized that, for once, while Kurt was riding him to a climax that had Fayed's eyes rolling back in his head, a part of him remained shuttered away.
Afterwards, having showered and returned to the bed whose wrecked linens Kurt had changed, he had cuddled Kurt to him and vowed that he would do everything so the sparkle would return to Kurt's eyes.
Kurt truly enjoyed his time with the prince; the man believed in seeing to Kurt's pleasure every single time and he never once let Kurt feel that this was essentially a business arrangement. He knew he was lucky – had been lucky, mostly – with his selection of clients. Some escorts had some truly horrifying stories to tell but Kurt had never encountered anyone who was less than civilized and mostly charming.
As he sank into welcome sleep, his traitorous mind, probably seduced by his well-fucked body, drew him down into a dream the likes of which he had not had in a long time.
He brushed his lips against the warm flesh beneath his hand and then laid his head on the heaving chest. The smell of their lovemaking surrounded him and he never thought he wouldn't be freaking out about the sticky mess on their stomachs. He chuckled even as his cheeks heated up, recalling how he had yelled his head off when he came. The fingers carding through his hair tightened, causing him to lift his head and he stared at the warm, dark eyes looking back at him.
"What's so funny?" The other's voice was husky, sexy and utterly alluring to Kurt. He shook his head and licked his lips before replying.
"Oh, it's just that I never pictured us doing this – and certainly not in front of the others."
They both looked to see all the heated eyes staring at them; everyone looked turned on as hell and Kurt felt himself stirring again at the thought that he could do that to them.
The fingers in his hair suddenly tightened painfully and the next thing he knew, he was on his knees and a cock was forcing itself into his mouth. He could hear the laughter of the watchers outside the glass walls of his box and he knew they laughed because of his tears.
He tried to speak around the hot flesh in his mouth and then managed to pull off completely. "Please… no, not like this…" but the hand was there again, forcing his head down on the iron-hard flesh between his lips, choking him. No, please. No!
NO!
Kurt felt the hand on him and he rolled from the bed so quickly his head spun. He found himself on the floor staring up at an alarmed and quite naked Prince.
"Kurt, my dear, what_?"
Kurt gazed around dazedly and to his shame and utter mortification, realized he'd been dreaming. He struggled to his feet, ran a hand through his messy hair and stared at Fayed.
"Oh, my god, Fayed, I'm so, so sorry. I haven't had a dream like this in_," he broke off as he shook his head, trying to dredge up a smile for the man who was now trying to get him to sit on the side of the bed.
"Stay here; I'll get you some water," and Fayed hurried into the en suite, taking a glass and filling it quickly with cool tap water. He paused and then opened the medicine cabinet, taking out the Tylenol bottle and shaking two into his hand. Then he hurried back to Kurt who was still sitting on the edge of the bed but staring down at his hands in his lap.
"Here, love, take these, too."
Kurt nodded at him gratefully, swallowed the pills with some of the water and then sighed. Fayed took the glass from him and then sat beside him on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Kurt leaned wearily against him, blinked rapidly to hold back embarrassed tears and tried to chuckle lightly. "Ah, no, I've been embarrassed enough tonight, I think."
He was aware of Fayed's concern but he couldn't bring himself to relate all the mortifying elements in the dream. Fayed wasn't stupid; in no time he would connect the dots and know that it was Noah's unexpected presence that was playing havoc with Kurt's equilibrium.
Kurt looked at the other man, leaned in and kissed him softly before murmuring against his lips, "You've been so sweet to me, I don't deserve it."
Fayed's eyes heated but he restrained himself to returning the sweetly simple kiss and hummed. "You make it so easy to be kind to you, my dear."
Kurt smiled at him and from his body language, Fayed could see that he was relaxing so they re-settled themselves in the bed. However, when he would have pulled Kurt to lie against his chest as he usually did, Kurt flinched away although he tried to cover it up.
Kurt felt his cheeks flush but he smiled softly at Fayed and offered: "I'm a little overheated," at which Fayed simply nodded and settled in to sleep. If a little niggle of hurt remained, he was a big boy and Kurt was obviously going through something. He could wait for his lovely, vibrant Kurt to return. He had time.
.
.
Puck knew he had no reasonable expectation of forgiveness from Kurt. What he'd done was gauche and cruel; it would be unpardonable but for the fact that he knew Kurt well. Kurt had forgiven the douchebags who had made much of his high school life miserable. He'd forgiven Karofsky; heck, he'd even forgiven him, Noah, for the numerous dumpster tosses and Finn for standing by and not stopping them.
Kurt was just an amazing man and Puck knew if he ever forgave him for what had happened that night of the party, he would do everything in his power never to hurt him again.
Puck didn't have much time left in New York but he knew he had to find a way to talk to Kurt before he left. Now, heading up to the hotel suite that Brittany was staying in, he crossed his fingers and prayed that she would give him Kurt's phone number. Brittany had a soft spot for both him and Kurt and he was going to play on that like a world-class fiddler.
Brittany opened the door in only a champagne-colored teddy that didn't cover a whole lot and Puck's eyebrows reached his hairline. She waved him in, indicating that he should shut the door while she continued her conversation on the phone with Santana, apparently.
"No, San, I'm flying back today; I was just getting dressed to head to the airport, baby." She giggled and then_ "What am I wearing?!" and she walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
Her voice had dropped to a purr but Puck could definitely hear when the conversation descended into blatant phone sex. He sighed and took a seat on the huge, plush couch, grabbing up a magazine and trying to tune out Brittany and Santana's phone sex.
Half an hour later, Brittany came out of the bedroom looking flushed but thankfully fully dressed. She smiled widely when she saw Puck waiting patiently and she skipped over to give him a hug.
"Hey, sweetie, what are you doing here?"
Puck took a breath and then she leaned back slightly, looking at him with that unexpectedly shrewd look that never failed to startle him and declared: "You're here to get Kurtie's number, aren't you?"
Puck felt his cheeks flush for being so transparent and he offered up a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I'd really like to apologize, Britt, and maybe take him to dinner or something."
She stared at him as if taking his measure but then suddenly the suite's phone rang. It was the concierge letting her know her car for the airport was there and he would be sending up the bellhops for her luggage.
When she rang off she turned back to Puck but this time she smiled at him. "Okay! Whatever is going on with you and my baby, sort it out, okay? I don't ever want to see that sick look on his face again."
Puck swallowed; Britt could be pretty surprisingly serious at times and he was sure that living with Santana had only increased the tendency. She got up, went over to the occasional table that held a pad and pen and swiftly wrote something down.
She tore off the slip of paper and came back over, holding it out to Puck. When he got up to take it from her, she snatched it back before he could touch it. She frowned at him suspiciously and then asked: "Do you promise you won't hurt him again?"
Puck's eyes widened and he definitely flushed this time, his eyes dropping before he looked back up and nodded. "Believe me, Britt, hurting Kurt is the last thing I would ever want to do."
She apparently took him at his word because she let him take the slip of paper before moving off to get the door and let in the bellhops. He went with her down to the waiting car and they exchanged a tight hug during which she whispered, "Call me, okay?" and then watched as she was driven away into the Manhattan traffic.
He looked at the paper, memorized the number and then tucked it away. He turned and headed back into the hotel but turned right and entered the world-famous restaurant. As he waited to be seated, he took out his phone and stared at it. Every bone in his body, every cell told him he needed to call Kurt right that minute but he forced himself to wait.
Finally, when he was seated and the maître d' brought him a menu, he only ordered a drink before telling the man he might be expecting a friend. The man bowed understandingly and when he left, Puck dialed the number Britt had given him.
He held his breath as he listened, praying that Kurt wouldn't hang up when he realized it was him calling.
"Hello, Kurt Hummel speaking. Who is this?" Kurt's voice was slightly breathless as if he'd hurried to answer the call and Puck closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and answered.
"Uhm, Kurt, hi, it's me, Puck," he managed to get out in a rush and waited for Kurt to say something else…
… And he waited.
Finally: "Hello, Noah, how did you_, oh, never mind; Brittany, I suppose."
Kurt had just stepped out of a long, luxurious, relaxing bath and now, wrapped in one of his decadently soft robes, he climbed onto his bed and planted himself in the middle of it. "Well, why are you calling me, Noah? You've apologized."
Puck drew a deep breath and then stopped to nod his thanks to the waiter who brought his drink. "Ah, well, you haven't actually said you've accepted it. If you haven't, could you maybe come have a drink with me so I can apologize some more?"
Kurt found he had to bite back a chuckle; that sounded almost exactly like the Puck from high school. He always had been able to mix cheekiness and faux innocence in an irresistible package. At least, Kurt had found it almost irresistible although he had never let on to anyone. God forbid he would have told the girls; in no time it would have been around the school that he was crushing on yet another straight jock.
Now though, Kurt was seriously tempted to say yes but a sudden recollection of his embarrassing night after he'd fallen asleep made him hold back. "Uhm, well, I_"
Puck's voice came down the line and Kurt unconsciously held the phone tighter as he listened to the voice he'd always secretly liked.
"Please, Kurt, give me a chance, please? Or if you're busy now, could we have dinner later tonight?"
Kurt tilted his head as a million thoughts buzzed in his mind. "What's the hurry? Suppose I said tomorrow night?"
Puck dropped his head and sighed before answering, ignoring the stares of the patrons nearest to him. "I leave town tomorrow morning, is all. Well, do you want to come have a drink now with me?" He desperately wanted to add another 'please' but that would have been totally pathetic.
There was silence on the line as Kurt thought about it and then his soft voice came back, slightly husky, "Okay, a drink would be good. Where do you want to meet?"
Puck gave him the address of the hotel and told him he'd be waiting for him in the restaurant. Kurt told him to give him an hour and he'd be there at which Puck let out a relieved sigh. Kurt heard it but ignored it and they ended the call.
The next hour or so was one of the most uncomfortable for Puck who kept going over things he wanted to say, discarding them and the reconsidering. He practiced trying to look cool and collected but he had another drink just to calm himself. Really, you'd think he was going to be interviewed for a job or something, he was that nervous. Finally, at the slight commotion at the doors to the restaurant, Puck looked up to see the maître d' talking to Kurt.
If Kurt had been stunning the night before, today he was downright breathtaking and Puck was on his feet before he'd even realized. The maître d' led Kurt over to Puck's table and nodded courteously as he held out a chair for Kurt.
Today Kurt was in shades of blue and ivory that did stunning things to his creamy skin and gorgeous eyes and Puck couldn't help but stare… as did some of the other patrons in the ritzy restaurant. New York was no stranger to celebrities, the beautiful people of every ilk but Kurt's level of theatricality wasn't something you often saw off of the stage.
As Kurt had walked towards him, Puck – and everyone else – took in everything about Kurt; from the top of his gleaming, artistically tousled dark hair down to his blue suede, knee-high boots. In between, admiring eyes noted the matching suede cape that swung from his shoulders over his ivory silk v-neck sweater that hugged his nicely toned chest and down to the tight blue jeans that left very little to the imagination.
Puck swallowed hard and then cleared his throat, greeting Kurt with a tiny smile that didn't hide any of his admiration. In fact, "Wow, Kurt, you look_"
Kurt laughed lightly and nodded his thanks to the maître d' who had whipped out a menu after seating Kurt. He perused the menu, intensely aware of Noah's stare and then ordered a martini. The maître d' scurried off and Puck just knew that Kurt's drink would arrive in record time.
Kurt finally spoke directly to Puck, every hint of amusement gone from his smooth face. "So, Noah, you said something about apologizing again…"
Puck thought for a crazy second that Kurt was joking, despite his expression but he realized the other man was deadly serious. He looked closely at Kurt; he knew Kurt used to wear a little makeup in school but now he looked at him he could see some serious covering up beneath his eyes. Did that mean there were shadows there? Was he the cause of the shadows beneath Kurt's beautiful eyes? Regret rolled through him and he ducked his head before speaking.
He didn't get a chance to speak because Kurt spoke again, though. "What are you apologizing for, exactly? Eight years ago when you_" he broke off, his lashes fluttering as he looked away and then back at Puck again, "or the kiss last night?"
Puck was a little taken aback because he hadn't considered the kiss something he needed to apologize for. He shook his head, frowning slightly but he answered as sincerely as he could manage. "I'm apologizing for what happened eight years ago, of course. There is no way I'd apologize for kissing someone as hot as you."
He looked at Kurt as if that should have been obvious, noticing the faint pink that streaked the top of Kurt's cheekbones. As he'd expected, the waiter had returned with Kurt's drink tout de suite and Kurt sipped at it now.
Puck looked at him in slight confusion. Surely men had told Kurt he was beautiful before so why the blush. Puck had become a little more sophisticated in the eight years between that incident and today so he ignored Kurt's discomfiture and sought for a topic of conversation that would ease the slight awkwardness between them.
"Oh, by the way," he said now with a faint, somewhat affectionate smile. "Britt says she'll be seeing you in a few months. She and Santana want to be here in the New Year, apparently."
Kurt nodded after putting down his martini, half of which he'd drunk after Noah's compliment. "Yes, we hook up occasionally, so I suppose I'll see her then."
Puck knew his eyebrows had flown up to his hairline when Kurt had said 'hook up' and now he stared at the other man confusedly. "'Hook up'; but I thought you were_"
Kurt, cool and composed again, quirked one eyebrow at his former classmate, trying to ignore how sexy Noah looked in a brown leather bomber jacket over a simple white tee. "What? Gay? Well, I'm bisexual, actually," and waited for Noah's questions.
He chuckled softly as he watched the other man's handsome face and the myriad of expressions that flitted swiftly by. Kurt couldn't really blame him for being confused; he'd been so adamant about being gay, being out and proud in high school that this must come like a bolt out of the blue to Noah.
Puck stared at Kurt, taking in his stunning features that he'd grown into over the years. Kurt had an air of elegance, of being only used to the best things in life and it was fascinating to Puck. He thought of Kurt with women and struggled to picture it. He vaguely remembered hearing Britt mention how soft Kurt's lips and hands were but that had been back in high school. Now he realized that the blonde must have been enjoying the bounty of Kurt's stunning body for a while now. He shifted in his seat as his body reacted to that visual and he took a sip of his now watery drink.
When he spoke, however, it was to return to the previous topic. "So, do you forgive me for being such a douche back in high school?" He would never admit to holding his breath but Kurt was important to him in a very confusing way and he felt as if he couldn't leave New York without knowing the answer.
Kurt took a deep breath and watched Noah go rigid as he waited for his answer. Why it was so important for Kurt to forgive him, Kurt didn't know but his soft heart could not deny that he wanted to forgive the other boy – no, man. Noah was definitely a man now and Kurt could see the changes the years had wrought in him. Noah had always been muscular, fit and sexy in a very eye-catching way yet he must have had some sensitivity to him that made him a loving father to his daughter, Beth. Although she had been adopted, Kurt knew Noah had stayed in his daughter's life.
Kurt looked up now and smiled, his eyes shy as he nodded and took a quick sip of his martini.
It wasn't enough for Puck, though; he wanted to hear the words and he reached across and grasped Kurt's hand gently. When Kurt looked up at him he murmured, "Please, you need to say it."
Kurt felt his heart stutter when Noah had taken hold of his hand and the pulse in his throat fluttered, unseen by the other man. He took a breath and then, "Yes, Noah, I really forgive you. Now, please, just drop it, okay?"
Puck released his hand reluctantly even as he smiled at Kurt, his brown eyes gleaming and he nodded his thanks. Talk about a weight off your shoulders! He hadn't even realized how tense he'd been and with Kurt's acceptance of his apology, he felt lighter already.
Kurt stared at the huge smile on Noah's face and chuckled himself, shaking his head as he looked away again. Something about the other man made him feel as if he wasn't the sophisticated man about town any longer but Kurt, McKinley High's fashionable, show tune-loving diva. He didn't know if he still had a crush on Noah but this feeling he had right now was dangerous and he recognized that if he stayed any longer, Noah would know he wasn't indifferent towards him.
Suddenly straightening up, he pushed his martini glass forward a precise centimeter and rose, staring down at Noah with a faintly imperious air. "Well, you've got what you've wanted; take care, Noah, and have a good flight back home."
Puck, surprised by Kurt's abrupt action, leapt to his feet, almost knocking his chair over and cried, "No, I mean, please, stay a little, Kurt. Come on, don't go yet!"
Kurt glanced around nervously at the other diners and just as the maître d' came up to them, he smiled, shook his head and left quickly. Puck called after him but he had to settle up before he could dash outside. Finally, when he rushed out onto the pavement, he knew with a sinking heart that he would be too late and that he wouldn't find Kurt.
He cursed as his head whipped from one side to the other looking one way and then the other. He knew Kurt was in one of the many yellow cabs that infested the always busy streets of the city and he felt his shoulders slump. Damn! He didn't know what else he wanted from Kurt beside the acceptance of his apology but he hadn't wanted the man to leave as yet.
As he stood there looking about unhappily, a cab pulled up beside him and he hopped in. He gave the driver the address of his publishers and slumped back, his face set in a frown. Maybe he could get Kurt's home address from the directory but somehow he knew that it wouldn't be that easy. His heart ached and he didn't know why. However, this wasn't the time to give himself a heart-to-heart talk. He would call Kurt later that evening and try to talk to him. Maybe, for whatever reason, Kurt would take pity on him and allow them to meet up. Yeah, maybe.
.
….
.
Kurt had got a cab almost immediately he stepped out of the fancy swinging glass doors of the hotel. Sitting back in the cab, he'd been oblivious to the noises of the busy Manhattan streets and when he was dropped off at his apartment building, he was still lost in thought.
He couldn't be distracted in the job he had and Noah was a definite distraction. Last night the prince had been gracious, totally lovely in looking after Kurt after the nightmare incident. It couldn't be allowed to happen again and he was determined to pull himself together. Really, what had happened eight years ago should not be allowed to affect his life now. Good lord, he was acting as if he'd been raped or something, traumatized by a stupid incident between two horny boys.
Except it had totally devastated Kurt because he was so not the type to give blowjobs in people's powder rooms with their best friends not five feet away. Kurt had felt humiliated and so ashamed of himself. He had straightened his clothes, washed his face and rinsed his mouth repeatedly for minutes on end. Then he'd hauled on his best bitch face and stepped out, shrugging off the tipsy comments from his friends. Puck hadn't been around and someone said that he'd left already. Kurt had shrugged, got himself a drink and then, unable to sustain the act, pleaded a headache. He had left before Finn could question him and he'd seen the uncertain looks that Blaine, Mercedes and David had thrown at him.
Kurt remembered how he'd sat in his Navigator in the driveway of his home for long minutes, sobbing his eyes out and feeling as if everyone knew what he and Puck had done. He'd almost decided not to go to school the following week but even though they didn't have classes, he was expected to turn up so he did.
He and Puck had avoided each other's eyes and they hadn't spoken again until last night, eight years later. Apparently Noah had grown enough of a conscience, Kurt snarked to himself, to realize that what he'd done had been a totally douche move.
Kurt let himself into the penthouse suite and threw off his cape, not even caring to hang it up and slouched into the couch. He had a couple of business calls to make, one of them to his manager at Arena but he really wasn't busy. He could easily have spent hours with Noah but he was afraid for his heart. It would be far too easy to let himself believe that he meant more to the other man than just a regrettable moment in their past.
Getting up to get his appointment book, he perused it and realized that, apart from dinner with Fayed in two days, he was free. He smiled to himself, thinking that if things had been different he could really fall for the dark prince. For whatever reason though, he felt a definite affection for him but nothing more.
He's not Noah, a traitorous whisper coiled in his mind and he clenched his fist, his lips thinning as he told the voice to shut the fuck up! 'That was off limits, you bitch,' he told the voice in his head, imagining that it sounded a bit like Rachel. In a moment of weakness years ago, he'd admitted to himself that his crush on Noah could have developed and grown had he been given even the slightest bit of encouragement by the tanned jock. Now, whenever he experienced a moment of weakness, the damned voice piped up. He was in no mood right now for that and he grabbed his phone to start his calls.
Noah Puckerman was off limits; Noah Puckerman was not into the likes of Kurt Hummel.
He said this enough times in his head and he started to believe it and as he waited to be connected to his manager and owner of Arena, he relaxed.
When the man's voice came on the line, he told Kurt about a couple of potentials who had evinced interest in Kurt after the ball last night.
"You did great, kid; these are serious high-rollers. You may have heard of Diane LeMontaigne? Yes? Well, she wants to invite you and a couple of our other 'players' to her chateau this weekend. Are you game?"
Kurt had heard of but never met the ridiculously rich Frenchwoman. Her parties were legendary and the unique thing about them is that they could start in one country and end up in a totally different one by the end of the night. When you owned your own luxury jet and a mega yacht that was always being photographed, you could do things like that.
"Kurt," his manager's voice came again, "she's willing to pay your fee and an additional ten per cent for every night you stay there."
Kurt's eyes widened. He was going to accept anyway because who in their right minds turned down Diane LeMontaigne? Now, though, he was intrigued and didn't hesitate to ask, "What's the catch?"
The other voice chuckled. Kurt was a sharp cookie and he realized that this was an unusual arrangement. "Well, it seems she's in the mood to recreate the days of ancient Rome."
Kurt went "Ah!" and then chuckled. 'The days of ancient Rome' was code in their business for orgies and though it wasn't usually his cup of tea, he had had fun at the few he had attended. "Okay, that's cool. Tell her yes and to fax me any details she might have."
They chatted a bit and then Kurt was told, "Oh, and we have a late booking. It seems last night is turning into a gold mine for you."
"Oh, how so, apart from Diane?" Kurt was curious. He was a rather exclusive consort or escort, however you wanted to word it. He waited for his manager and he could hear the rustle of papers on the man's huge desk and then he was back with Kurt.
"Yes, here it is. It seems there's a writer who wants to have dinner with you – 'just dinner', he said. Tonight."
A sinking feeling made Kurt's chest feel tight and his breath shorten. 'Oh, no, tell me it's not…'
The voice continued: "A Noah Puckerman. He's the guy who does those violent bestsellers with the spy that they've turned into some pretty sexy movies. Ever heard of him? Kurt? Kurt?"
Kurt was nodding helplessly, not realizing that because he was on the phone his manager couldn't hear him. Finally, he found his breath and said weakly, "Yes, yes, I know him…" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, ah, so when exactly is dinner?"
His head reeled a bit and it was a good thing he was sitting at the little antique secretaire that he'd picked up at an estate sale. His legs wouldn't have held him up and he knew, he just knew that this was not going to end well.
"Tonight – he wants to pick you up tonight and take you out." The voice had a thread of concern in it as it continued. "Kurt, if you are not okay with this I can tell the guy to fuck off if you want."
Kurt chuckled, surprising himself; he knew how protective his manager could be but he couldn't help Kurt now.
"No, it's okay; I know him actually… we went to school back in Ohio."
There was silence and he knew his boss was no idiot; Kurt's odd reaction, even though he couldn't see his face would start him thinking. "So, give him your address then?" At Kurt's assent he concluded that bit of business by saying, "Alright, he said he would pick you up at seven; that should give you enough time to get pretty, huh?"
He and Kurt exchanged their usual sarcastic yet oddly affectionate banter and then rang off. Kurt slumped back in his chair and stared at his appointment book where he'd scrawled 'Noah – 7 p.m.'
The pulse in his throat was hammering away again and he knew deep in his bones that tonight was going to be anything but just dinner. There had been clients who started out wanting just dinner and then wanted to up the ante to a 'little dessert'. Those were the ones he dropped after one 'date', never to see them again.
Now he closed his eyes and told himself that tonight's dinner with Noah would really be that… just dinner.
The thing was, Kurt didn't really trust himself around Noah. Although eight years had passed, he couldn't lie to himself; seeing Noah again last night and now this afternoon had reawakened the hunger in him.
Kurt was going to have to fight himself. He was going to have to be the perfect, 'masked' escort, letting very little of the real Kurt Hummel come through. Living a life of sexual excess meant that he had little practice in disciplining himself. However, if he wanted to survive with his pride intact, tonight Kurt had to live up to his reputation as Arena's best escort.
Tonight, Kurt would have to call on every bit of his acting skill and tuck poor little 18-year-old Kurt away into the little box in his mind. Tonight, Kurt would be something Noah would not be expecting – a 26-year-old professional who was the best at what he did. No soppy sentimentality could be allowed to undermine Kurt's control.
Noah Puckerman wouldn't know what had hit him; that was for damn certain.
.
TBC