The Escort
Chapter Six
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. Kurt/Puck
Disclaimer: I have no claim on any of the recognizable characters. The OCs belong to me, and they better remember that.
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Dinner that night was a low-key affair, though the food was undoubtedly sumptuous. Kurt, however, was far more interested in what was expected of them, of him, and to that end he questioned Diane in subtle fashion.
"I'm sure you're aware of my – uhm, skills?" He eyed his hostess with a smile in his azure eyes, his lips curved invitingly. He was not trying to seduce her, at least not sexually, but he'd discovered from an early age that people responded to him when he wore a certain facial expression. He'd been told he looked sometimes like a Botticelli angel and he, being a curious lad, had looked up the painter on the Internet. He had been struck by the fact that the angels looked androgynous, somewhat like him and he read further that some people thought angels had no gender.
Now he added a subtle hint of sexuality to faintly corrupt his angelic look and further increase his hostess's fascination with him. All it really required was a hint of mischief behind his wide, curious gaze and he giggled inwardly as Diane tuned the others out to focus on him. So he was an attention hog, he admitted it.
Diane smiled at her beautiful – she paused in her mind, working out exactly what Kurt and the others were – guest, she settled on. It was more gracious to think of them that way, even though she was paying the agency a small fortune to have them there.
"Certainement, mon cher, you are one of the most intriguing people it has been my pleasure to meet." She chuckled as faint color washed his cheeks. Ahhh, he was not as jaded as he would have people think, she thought delightedly before continuing. "I'm rather hoping, though, that you will show us a wide range of your talents over the next few days."
Kurt tilted his head and pursed his lips in a slight 'o', staring at her curiously. Diane nodded and then looked at the others.
"You are obviously here to entertain my guests but given how uniquely positioned you are in your agency, I believe you have talents that are above the ordinary in the arts and sports, yes?"
Kurt relaxed with a look of understanding flowing across his smooth face. "Oh, I see, yes, definitely!" He smiled at the others and nodded. "Lyssa is a fantastic artist and she specializes in body painting…" He trailed off to give Lyssa an opportunity to jump in and blow her own trumpet.
The girl smiled shyly as she nodded at their hostess. "Yes, it is an ancient art and I do it with henna or other pigments, whatever the individual desires."
Her soft voice was musical as usual and Diane found herself listening intently. Lyssa went on to describe the other areas of the arts that she loved and when Diane interrupted to ask about performing, she nodded.
"Yes, I play several instruments but my favourite is the mandolin," she blushed as she smiled at Kurt. "However, Kurt here is a beauty to watch and I often play for him in our spare time."
Diane turned knowing eyes on her favorite and smiled encouragingly. "Yes, I was told that you're also a performer in your own way, Kurt. Tell me more?"
Ken grinned as he watched the older woman almost devour Kurt with her eyes. It never failed to amaze him that people responded so randily to his friend's physical attractions. He himself was accustomed to people fawning all over his well-defined muscles and his beautiful blond hair but Kurt, to his mind, was only average in looks. Yet, both men and women often looked at the slender, pale-skinned courtesan with an acquisitive look they never turned in his direction.
Now he watched Kurt laugh, shaking his head and acting coy. Ken knew it was an act because Kurt wasn't the highest-paid escort in the agency for nothing. He had to turn away clients, he was so sought-after.
Kurt grinned at Lyssa and then at Diane before elaborating. "Some time ago, a friend of mine thought it would be fun to give me dance lessons."
He paused as he watched the light of curiosity spark in Diane's eyes. "Yes," she said. "Dance lessons are always good but, what kind of dancing did she mean?"
Kurt stayed silent while allowing his eyes to twinkle, and then he said, "You know what, as a treat for you and your guests, one day I will perform for you, if Lyssa will accompany me, that is."
Diane laughed and clasped her hands together. "Oh, I'm really curious now! You little scamp, you certainly know how to tease!"
Kurt opened his eyes in mock consternation, bringing his hands up to his mouth like a little child. As the servants came in to clear away the remains of their meal, he exclaimed, "Oh, no, Madame, it is only teasing if I had no intention of following through!"
Their laughter combined with the sounds of their chairs moving back as they all headed for the huge drawing room, Diane leading the way and chattering about the various guests and entertainments for the next few days.
The hours sped past and after enjoying a dessert of light but decadent éclairs and glasses of fine brandy, Kurt discovered that one of the guests would be a fashion designer. Diane refused to say who, probably in retaliation for his not divulging what his treat would be. Still, Kurt knew he would find lots to talk about on one of his most famous subjects, no matter who the designer would be.
As he prepared for bed in the wee hours of the morning, his mind ambushed him again and thoughts of Noah floated to the surface. He felt a twinge of sadness that he had left things the way he had; he could have handled everything so much more graciously he thought.
He settled into the king-sized bed, a small smile settling on his lips as he thought how fascinated Noah would be with this place. The history alone was fascinating and coupled with the beauty of its architecture, any writer worth the name would be absolutely blown away.
Determined to put Noah and his issues out of mind, Kurt settled onto his tummy, inhaling the scent of the pillow beneath him and allowed his body to relax, inch by inch. He wouldn't sleep the whole night that way; it was just to start off because sleeping face down would leave wrinkles on his face. His hand stroked the smooth, obviously expensive sheets and once again, the thought of caressing Noah like that waylaid him. He huffed at himself impatiently and deliberately brought to mind all that Diane had told them about their guests.
He fell asleep still planning his entertainment and anticipating the looks on everyone's face when he performed.
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oOo
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Later that day, feeling rested and refreshed, Kurt shook hands, smiled, hugged and air-kissed the newcomers until he thought his head would spin. Diane's guests were a friendly bunch and some even came with their personal assistants who seemed, on the whole, to be more like friends than employees. Kurt had been expecting a number of the guests to be full of their own importance but he was impressed that that was not how it turned out.
That night, Diane held a little soirée in the Rose Salon, moving from each little grouping of guests to the next, making certain everyone was introduced and everyone had all they needed. They had all been to her castle before for these same sorts of visits but they had not all been there together at the same time.
Now she moved over to take Kurt's elbow and excuse him to the designer, a lovely Asian boy with beautiful androgynous features, steering him towards an older, very distinguished-looking gentleman whose name had slipped Kurt.
Diane smiled widely as Kurt looked at her curiously but followed along as they wended their way through the room. Finally, stopping before the other man, Kurt held out his hand to the man as Diane said, "Henri, talk to Kurt for a minute, will you? He's a devotee of the stage, himself."
Kurt immediately remembered that this man was a famous French movie director who had worked with some of the world's most astounding artistes. His eyes lit up and he flushed when the older man lifted his hand to his lips. He sometimes didn't expect this gesture but so many European clients often did it.
Henri's eyes clung to Kurt's lips as he straightened, slowly releasing Kurt's hand and he smiled now. "Kurt, my dear, I've been watching you the whole evening. Will you sit with me?"
Kurt was impressed that he was asked this and it wasn't demanded of him, considering what he was here for. He nodded now, his eyes sparkling as he led them over to a love seat. Settling himself in, he crossed one of his long legs over the other unconsciously in his signature move, but aware of Henri's eyes on him.
"Tell me, who was your favorite actor to work with and who was the worst!" His bright voice blurted the question and Henri chuckled as he took Kurt's hand.
Gradually, Kurt came to realize, as Henri regaled him with tales of some of his most nightmarish experiences with the prima donnas of the film world – both male and female – that they had gathered an audience. The other guests laughed and asked their own questions, seemingly as fascinated with the film and theatre world as ordinary folk.
One guest, a woman with the most startlingly pink hair, a writer and scientist, Kurt was told, asked Kurt himself what he'd wanted to be when he was growing up. Kurt had blushed, for once hating his fair skin, and disclosed that he had always wanted to be a fashion designer or Broadway star.
He was thankful that his audience was rather sophisticated because no one asked him the inevitable follow-up; what happened why he was doing this now. Other people spoke up about their own childhood dreams, some amusing, some poignant and the evening drew to a close with everyone feeling as if they had been acquaintances for a long time.
Diane was rather happy with the evening's conversational ice-breaker and she held Kurt back when the others all said their good nights and retired upstairs. Kurt looked at her inquiringly and she smiled as she patted his face.
"Well, mon chou, tomorrow is when our festivities begin, yes?" She watched his face light up into a smile and continued. "Is everything to your liking?"
Kurt smiled at his hostess, happy that she seemed so taken with him. He nodded now and added, "Everything is wonderful; I couldn't want for anything, thank you."
She grasped his hand and walked with him out of the salon, passing servants still going about their jobs. She flicked a little look his way and then said softly, "A little bird told me that you really are quite adept at what you do…"
She waited for him to realize what she was referring to and then chuckled as his eyes widened.
Kurt remembered his 'welcome gift' and his cock twitched at the memory of Yana's luscious little body and the pleasure she'd brought him. Clearly, the girl had told her mistress of what had occurred. He nodded now at Diane with a small smile curving his lips.
"I'm grateful for the assistance in relaxing; it was a long flight and I slept like a baby afterwards."
Diane threw back her head and laughed, full-throated and loud; Kurt smiled as he watched her, enjoying her ability to let go and not be a stuffed shirt. Really, sometimes the very rich seemed just like ordinary folk, he thought as they made their way upstairs.
At the first landing, the stairs forked and when Kurt turned towards the guest wing, Diane let go of his hand reluctantly.
"Sleep well, dear Kurt; tomorrow is going to be a rather interesting day."
Kurt thought of something and looked back at her, his head tilting to the side as he made up his mind.
"You know, I think I'll unveil my little surprise tomorrow, if you don't mind. What time is the start of your 'festivities'?"
Diane's eyes lit up at the thought of her treat coming so soon. "Brunch will be around 10:30 so I thought maybe we could start things off around 1, maybe 2?"
Kurt nodded, running over in his mind what he would need to do to be ready for at least 2 o'clock. He smiled then at his hostess, leaned forward to drop a light kiss on her cheek and then announced, "I'll be ready for two o'clock, then. Sweet dreams," and he skipped lightly up the stairs, her soft chuckles following him.
He had to talk with Lyssa and maybe Ken in the morning as he had to put certain things into place. He knew this hulking pile they were staying in must have a room suitable for what he wanted to do. After all, Diane was famous for her little 'entertainments', whether set in Roman times or not. He hummed to himself as he got ready for bed and he fell asleep this time without any disturbing thoughts of Noah Puckerman dancing in his head.
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oOo
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Diane admitted to herself that she was rather intrigued with what Kurt was planning. He and his colleagues hadn't come down to brunch and she realized what a smart idea that was on their part. It allowed a sense of anticipation to build among her guests who, from certain comments she'd overheard, were more than ready to start the proceedings.
She looked around the room Kurt had requested – via one of the servants – that she had prepared to his specifications. There were couches, some large and some small and chaise longues – enough for all the guests and even some of their entourage – scattered around the huge room. They were arranged before a large dais and interspersed among them were cushions on the tiled floor.
Along the edge of the room were tall, beautifully painted screens that depicted scenes of the Roman countryside. From behind them, the servants came and went through the concealed doors in much the same way it would have happened back in the days when Rome ruled the known world.
Diane was dressed – if you could call it that – in rather revealing, diaphanous robes designed like a toga. It bared her breasts yet managed to support them in a way that hid the fact that they were not as young and perky as they used to be. Her large nipples were rouged and her hair was dressed like that of the matrons of ancient Rome. She felt beautiful and the many bracelets she wore on both arms jangled as she moved gracefully about the room.
The other guests were somewhat similarly attired except that the personal assistants to the guests were dressed more as Roman servants did; their garments were so short that when they moved, they exposed the lower parts of their groin and buttocks. Everybody looked pleased and slightly aroused as they examined each other's bodies admiringly.
Diane finally took a seat on the center couch, arranging herself comfortably with her sandal-clad feet up and settled in to wait for Kurt's performance to begin. Soft music had been playing for a while as her house servants had moved about, serving the guests and their assistants wine from large pitchers that looked as if they came from an ancient Roman villa.
There was a soft murmur of anticipation as the other guests found suitable seating and gradually silence fell. The music swelled and Diane found herself fascinated that it had segued from a recording to a live performance. Lyssa must have sequestered herself somewhere behind one of the many screens that stood at the edge of the room and the sound of her mandolin moved eerily but sweetly through the room.
Diane was fascinated by those who had the talent to play … and play well. The castle's music room was full of instruments, some so exotic she didn't even know their names but occasionally a guest would entertain her. Now she was glad that Lyssa had found an instrument to her liking and Diane settled back to listen – and watch.
Lyssa's high voice started in counterpoint at first to what she was playing and the sound was vaguely Oriental. It was a beautiful piece and Diane and her guests found their concentration riveted to the music. Gradually though, they noticed the sound of small drums being added and they perked up because, in a very subtle way, the sound had changed. The rhythm brought by the drums made their blood pulse and slowly the mood in the room altered, becoming more sensual.
Suddenly, the sound of tinkling bells was added to the drum and mandolin and as the guests looked around – there was Kurt, appearing in their midst as he strode towards the center of the dais.
Diane's eyes gleamed – and no doubt the eyes of the guests because this was a Kurt they had not met before.
Kurt stood for long seconds as the music swelled around him, with his head hanging down, almost as if he were giving the audience time to admire the figure he cut up there, alone on his stage.
His long, pale, but well-muscled torso gleamed like marble under a fine layer of gold dust as the light played lovingly over his skin. He was deliciously pale but for his tight, pink nipples and Diane's pupils enlarged as she gazed at him. Down the center of his torso he had painted a faint, swirling design that widened as it went around his navel and then narrowed again to disappear along his treasure trail and into the waist of the low-slung garment. On both his biceps and his ankles he wore black bands that served to draw even more attention to his limbs.
Without warning, his stomach muscles rippled in time with the music and there was a faint gasp as the audience reacted to the sight. Their eyes were riveted to the way the black material clung to his hips along with a brass belt made of large, linked coins glittering in the light as he moved ever so slightly.
Next, he moved his arms – long and lightly muscled except his biceps which were rather impressive for one so slender. The movement seemed to ripple from the fingertips of one hand, up the arm, across broad shoulders and then down the other arm to those fingertips. Then he was still again but for the slight movement of his chest as he breathed.
With a sudden, strident sound from Lyssa's mandolin, Kurt jerked his head up and stared almost challengingly at his audience.
A sigh of appreciation went through the audience as they took in the beautiful face looking back at them with the faintest smile. Kurt had used kohl on his eyes, not too heavily but just enough to contrast nicely with his porcelain-fair skin and his brilliant eyes. His lips were rouged and around his tousled hair he wore a band of silver dotted with large, blue gems to match his eyes.
Diane found herself applauding although he hadn't started dancing yet, simply marveling at his exotic looks. Kurt suppressed a smile although his eyes twinkled in response to the ovation he was receiving and then he sobered slightly, obviously ready to get on with the show.
The guests settled in, certain now that they were in for a stunning performance to match the dancer's looks.
Lyssa started another tune, this time managing to make the mandolin sound alternately plaintive and aggressive as Kurt danced. It was clear they had worked together before because Kurt moved in time to all the changes in the exotic, unusual music.
Everyone watched avidly as Kurt treated them to a sensual yet masculine form of belly dancing. The long panels of material that hung from the brass belt swirled around him and when they occasionally parted, some of the guests would shift in their seats. This was because Kurt's legs had to be one of the most stunning parts of his anatomy. When he spun almost like a dervish, the material floated up and outward, revealing his legs in all their glory and further arousing his enthusiastic audience.
His legs were not only as pale and creamy as the rest of him, they were long and curvy, with the thigh muscles strong and bunching hypnotically as he moved. There was more than one guest sitting there imagining just how those legs would feel wrapped around them.
Kurt breathed evenly and deeply as he danced, feeling the energy from the audience changing as his movements changed. He gradually increased the tempo of his hips, interspersing that with sinuous movements of his torso that hinted at female belly-dancing. His teacher had wanted him to know that form as well, although he had complained he wasn't a girl. Still, he found that it had come in handy for his bisexual clients who were fascinated by the duality of his appearance.
Every now and again one or more of the guests would clap along with the music and there was an almost non-stop stream of soft exclamations and compliments as he danced. Kurt almost felt as if he were in a club and as he sank to his knees in a sudden, stunning move with his legs spread, he leaned back until his head was on the floor behind him. He drank in the gasps of amazement and the applause that erupted as his dance came to a riveting climax.
As the sound of the thudding drums and the mandolin came to a stop, the audience surged to its feet, Diane foremost but Kurt held his pose for seconds longer. Then he rose in one smooth movement that declared more than anything else how much control he had over every muscle in his body. There was a fresh burst of applause and laughter as he spun around and then bowed.
When he straightened up, his eyes landed on Diane and he raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Well?"
She laughed even as she continued clapping but Kurt turned to the screen and called Lyssa softly. She and Ken stepped out, still holding their instruments and they bowed, smiling and grinning at the well-entertained crowd.
"Bravo, Kurt! That was absolutely breathtaking. Thank you, Lyssa, Ken," Diane called now as she moved towards them, reaching Kurt first. She grasped his hand in both of hers and looked him over with more than a little lust in her eyes. Unfortunately, before she could say more, Henri was beside her, his eyes devouring Kurt as he stood there.
"Words cannot describe what you do to me, my dear," Henri's cultured voice was husky as he stared at Kurt. It was a testament to his breeding that his eyes did not rove down Kurt's half-naked body but he stared deeply into his eyes.
Kurt flushed and smiled, still breathing deeply after his exertions but he acknowledged Henri's words with a slight bow. "Thank you, you are kind…"
Henri held out a hand to Kurt who looked from Diane and back to him a little uncertainly. Diane laughed lightly, released Kurt's hand and said, "You need something cool to drink, mon cher; Henri will see to that, yes?"
She patted Henri on the shoulder and turned away, winking at the man knowingly as she turned back to the other guests. Lyssa and Ken were already circulating, chatting animatedly as they sipped from the goblets the servants were bringing around.
Henri retrieved two goblets of wine for Kurt and himself and they moved to an unoccupied couch, Henri with his hand in the small of Kurt's back.
Kurt loved the attention; he also loved the feeling of power that came over him whenever he performed. With the two feelings melding together inside of him, he subsided onto the couch, arranging himself so that the material of his costume parted and Henri got a good look at his thighs.
Henri swallowed hard before taking a sip of his cold wine, trying his best not to ogle the boy beside him. Kurt sat in silence, sipping his own wine thirstily and occasionally smiling down into the goblet. He wondered at Henri's sudden hesitance although he found it rather attractive. He had had his share of clients who pawed him and threw him about as if he were a blow-up doll so Henri's refinement appealed to him now.
He cleared his throat and then glanced beneath his lashes at the older man. "Have you ever seen Turkish belly-dancing?"
Kurt thought this was an innocuous enough opening and he congratulated himself when he saw how Henri relaxed a little before looking back at him.
Henri smiled gratefully for the question and launched into an anecdote about attending a good friend's wedding. Apparently, most of the guests had never seen belly-dancing apart from maybe on the television. When the women had come out, beautiful in their dazzling, jingling costumes, some of the guests hadn't known how to react.
"Believe me, though," Henri grinned as Kurt chuckled. "The most enthusiastic in that audience were the women! I would have thought there'd be some jealousy because those dancers were stunning. However, the women guests surprised us as some even got up and tried the moves themselves."
Kurt laughed at that, knowing what Henri meant. Women for some reason responded quite favorably to belly-dancing; maybe it was some ancient ancestral thing that made most women understand that belly dancing was nothing like pole-dancing in gentlemen's club. Those un-talented strip club dancers had almost brought the ancient art into disrepute. Luckily, there were enough computer-savvy practitioners out there who often uploaded real videos of belly dancing for the uninitiated to view.
They sipped their wine and then Henri added, "I've never seen a male dancer before, though. I don't think there'd be very many?"
Kurt nodded now as he lowered his empty goblet. "Yes, that's true, there aren't many male dancers in that field, but the few I've seen are anything but effeminate. In fact, most often it's referred to as tribal fusion."
He felt Henri's eyes return to his bare chest and he watched him trying not to let his eyes go lower to Kurt's exposed thighs. Kurt, repressing an impish grin, shifted in the seat, bringing one leg up onto the edge and widening his pose. He watched Henri's Adam's apple bob and then decided to take pity on him.
A passing waiter removed their empty goblets and both men declined fresh ones. Kurt moved again and settled back against the toga-clad man, sighing softly but loudly enough for him to hear.
Henri cleared his throat and then brought his arm up around Kurt's back and then slid his hand onto one hip. Kurt turned slightly to look seductively over his shoulder at Henri and murmured, "I've been waiting for you to touch me," and then closed the distance between their mouths.
Henri groaned softly, parting Kurt's wine-reddened lips and thrust his tongue within. Kurt sighed into the kiss and brought a hand up to tangle in Henri's hair. This brought their mouths closer and Kurt kissed him back as if he had been wanting this the whole day.
Henri's other hand came up Kurt's front and he let his fingers brush repeatedly across the dancer's chest, flicking at the tight buds. Kurt moaned at the feel and squirmed, feeling his dick hardening and then he wrenched their mouths apart.
Henri's brown eyes had darkened almost to black and he looked dazedly at Kurt. Kurt smiled at him before shifting around so that he was facing the other man. Then he climbed up, straddling Henri and oblivious to the guests who were watching rather than getting it on with each other. Kurt slid his arms around Henri's shoulders and aligned their hips, moaning softly as their arousals bumped and slid together.
He felt Henri's large hands go around to squeeze his arse and Kurt ground down onto his crotch, biting his lip as sensation rocketed through him. He vaguely wondered if Diane had added a little something extra to the wine because he was feeling incredibly horny. Kurt surged forward and they were kissing hungrily again, small sounds escaping them and heightening their arousal.
Across the room, Diane plucked and rolled a nipple between her long fingers, licking her lips as she watched Kurt and Henri grinding against each other. She was happy that things had started and as she watched, one of the other guests moved over to the two men. It was the beautiful Asian fashion designer and she should have guessed it would be him. He and Kurt would look beautiful together, she thought now as she watched him tug Kurt's head up and take the dancer's mouth in a fierce kiss.
She turned away from the ménage-a-trois developing across the room and looked at the action around the room. People had paired off or moved into groups, some of the personal assistants even getting in on things with their employers.
Movement beside her caught her attention and she looked up just in time for Ken to sink to his knees before her. She smiled at him, wondering what he had in mind and then gasped, her eyes closing as he slid his large hands up beneath her silk toga. Everyone was bare beneath their robes, of course, so his hands met no barriers as thick fingers slid inside her. She gasped, falling back against the arm of the couch as she widened her legs, inviting him closer.
Ken slid the material of Diane's robe up her thighs, alternately stroking the meaty flesh and then returning to finger her. She was already so wet and his cock tented his own robe as he lowered his mouth to her center.
Around them now were the inescapable sounds of many people getting quite intimate with each other. The sounds the others were making spurred them on; the scent of arousal hung heavy in the air and the servants closed the doors on it all. They knew not to come back for the next three or four hours, as their mistress and her guests had everything they could need right to hand.
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oOo
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Kurt relaxed in his tub, a half smile wreathing itself around his soft, kiss-swollen lips. The low-level hum of arousal was due entirely to the memory of the day's activities. His hands drifted through the hot, silky water and he slid lower down so he was completely submerged. He held his breath for a while, almost in a trance and then he resurfaced. He smiled again and let the water sluice off of his face and then opened his eyes.
"I'm going to turn into a prune if I stay here much longer," he muttered to himself before shampooing his hair and completing his bath routine. He stared at himself in the huge mirror and chuckled as he cleaned his teeth. There was nothing like a whole afternoon of sex to put one in a good mood, he thought sardonically as he eyed a couple of marks on his otherwise flawless skin.
Finishing up in the bathroom, he eschewed the robe hanging on the door and stepped into the bedroom stark naked. As he approached the bed, looking longingly at it as he went, he suddenly realized he was not alone.
Nearly leaping out of his skin, he clapped a hand against his heart and then panted before chuckling. "Oh, my goodness, Lyssa, you scared a year out of me!"
Lyssa uncurled from where she'd been reclining on the chaise at the foot of his bed and grinned at him. Her teeth gleamed against the rich coloring of his lips and she moved towards the other side of the bed.
"I just wanted to nap with you for a while. Is that okay?"
Kurt moved the counterpane out of the way and slid between it and the cool sheets. He loved sleeping naked on expensive sheets. He'd come a long way from his beloved cotton sheets in Lima, Ohio. He nodded now, suppressing a yawn and then smiled at his friend.
"Of course, it's okay. Where's Ken," he asked as he turned onto his side to look at her. She did look a little worn out. Well, that would do it if you were a little slip of a thing entertaining two men at a time and then going down on a woman for afters.
Lyssa yawned daintily and then shuffled back so that she was spooned up against Kurt. Kurt shifted so that she was comfortable and then buried his nose in her hair. This was not the first time they were sharing a bed for either comfort or sex and there was a wonderful sense of familiarity that they both appreciated.
Lyssa turned slightly to look over at her friend, smiling as she said, "I think Ken is with Diane; maybe he really likes her, huh?"
Kurt chuckled as he thought about it. "Mm-hmm, there's no accounting for attraction, really."
She nodded and then bumped her butt against his soft groin, giggling softly as he swatted her lightly on the hip.
"You're too worn out so don't start something you can't finish, missy," he said jokingly.
Lyssa stuck her tongue out and then declared, "We don't have to do anything energetic; just stick that pretty pink thing inside me and see what happens from there."
Kurt chuckled but reached down to grasp himself. He was already half-aroused so, anticipating the tight warmth of Lyssa's cunt, he was hard in seconds. He shifted his hips a bit and then sank into her slick depth, holding his breath at the delicious feeling and then relaxing as she snuggled back even closer.
True to her word, their coupling was slow, languorous and with just enough energy to bring them to a gentle yet satisfying climax. Thoroughly spent now, they fell asleep cuddled up like kittens, Kurt's shrinking dick still within her.
Anyone coming upon them would think they were siblings simply snuggling together. Such was the dynamic between them but sex for them was not only part of the job, but part of their recreation. If he thought about it, Kurt would have realized that his mindset was 180 degrees from what it had been in high school. Still, he was happy with his life, with the way things had turned out. The only ripple on the surface of his smooth existence was the memory of his feelings for Noah – and the fact that he could never risk falling in love with him.
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oOo
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Thousands of miles away, Noah stood staring out at the afternoon sky from his home office, the sky-high view encouraging his winging thoughts. He didn't know where Kurt was or what he was doing. All he knew right now was that there was a pain in his chest; even though he rubbed it, it wouldn't go away.
He sighed and turned away, his eyes on the laptop where his latest novel waited for the return of his undivided attention. He saved the document and closed it, uploaded it to a data stick and then opened a new, fresh document.
Noah sat staring at the screen for a long time, long enough for the shadows to change and then he started typing. This wasn't what his publisher and agent were expecting and he didn't know why he would write these words now but it was if they couldn't wait to come pouring out.
I.
'His were the bluest eyes I had ever seen – his smiling lips the pinkest; he was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. We were little kids, though; what would I know about beauty.
'Still, I went home that afternoon and when my mom, Naomi, came home I asked her, "Mom, can a boy be pretty?"'
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TBC
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A/N: If you want an idea of what Kurt's dance looked like, check out the video of one the world's best male tribal fusion dancers at the 8th Sommer Festival in Berlin, 2011, on YouTube.