Want me chapter 1: Give me a chance (a Glee fan-fiction)
Author's note: Blaine might be presumptuous and insensitive, but he's also kind, sweet and completely genuine. I'm not going to just spoil that by pretending he's an ass. So instead of complicating things, this story is AU from Never Been Kissed; Kurt stays at McKinley, and his relationship with Blaine simply doesn't develop any further than friendship. There we go.
Also, both Karofsky and Kurt are minors, what they are doing is illegal and I do not condone any of their actions. In particular, if I were his father, Karofsky would be in for a long, stern chat about self-respect across the dining table and his computer would be staying in the lounge until he graduated.
Kurt Hummel was many things. A fashion icon; a gifted counter-tenor; a good student; an out-and-proud flamer in a city so conservative that one of its newspapers had rallied against public libraries in the '50s.
He was also a teenage boy.
His chances of getting any action at McKinley were slim. No one else was out at school; he knew of precisely one other gay student, and the only boning that guy was getting was from the skeletons in his closet. Short of developing a slushie fetish, when his hormones overtook him he had little choice but to take matters into his own hands.
Fortunately, unlimited broadband and the generosity of anonymous hunks on the Internet made that a lot easier. All it took were a few search terms on a site whose URL he had committed to memory (and thank God for private browsing, because there was no way he was going to risk that popping up with someone looking over his shoulder) and soon, he would have more than enough material to keep him occupied for the next ten minutes.
Grabbing some lotion and pulling the tissues closer, he lied about his date of birth, waited for the page to load and tapped "hot football player" into the search bar. He had always had a thing for football players. So sue him, he liked his man candy big and dumb. Finn, Sam… Heck, even Puck, though Kurt would never admit aloud to finding that mohawk remotely adorable. He'd felt weird thinking about people he knew, though. People he would never meet on the Internet-especially when they wanted people to look at them-were a different matter entirely.
Scanning the results, he saw several that looked promising and some he had already seen. He paused for a second; he had watched quite a few (supposed) football players recently, and while he wasn't exactly tired of them he wouldn't mind a little… variety tonight. He went back to the search box, highlighted the keywords and bit his lip in thought. After a moment, he changed them to "cute hockey jock" and pressed enter.
A new set of thumbnails loaded. Opening a few in new tabs, he quickly turned down his speakers and waited a few seconds for the videos to start buffering so he could take his pick.
Hmm, a bit too skinny for me, he thought, closing the first video. The second guy had nice abs, but you couldn't see his face; he knew from experience that he had to see their eyes to get off properly, so he quickly moved on to the third guy.
And immediately closed all the other tabs.
The guy he'd settled on wasn't particularly handsome. He still had all his clothes on, so it was hard to tell if he liked his body. Neither of those were the reason for Kurt's wide eyes or parted lips. Almost without thinking, he switched the video to full screen, taking in the rounded face, the shy eyes, the broad shoulders, the big hands and wide arms. The letterman jacket slung over the back of the black sofa on which he was sat.
No way, he thought. I'm dreaming. This isn't happening. That can't possibly be who I think it is…
Silently, on the screen in front of him, Dave Karofsky opened his mouth and started to speak.
Public School Enemy No. 1 appearing out of nowhere when he'd been expecting porn was more than Kurt's head could deal with. Quickly, he pressed pause, any thoughts of sexual release fleeing to make room for a more urgent and pressing matter:
What the hell?
Breathing heavily, Kurt stared at the still image on his screen. Karofsky's mouth hung open mid-sentence. The boy looked nervous; his fingers frozen mid-fidget, his posture a transparent pretense at relaxation. He was sat back on the couch, his hands kneading his knees and his eyes fixed on the camera like it was a rattlesnake.
Shaking off the irrational feeling that the other boy could see him too, Kurt made a heroic effort to muster his thoughts into something that made sense. He soon realised that this wasn't going to work, and settled for sitting in silence for a few moments until his brain decided they were on speaking terms again.
What the hell? he asked himself for the second time. Since Karofsky was still there and he hadn't wakened up, this obviously wasn't a dream and there really was a video of Karofsky on a site that was basically YouTube for porn. Forcing his hands to move he escaped out of full screen and sought the video description.
"hey guys sup, sorry im a bit shy in this its my first time doing a video. um, so i know im not everyones type but please give me a chance im working on losing sum weight so be nice? Thanx :)"
Kurt read the description twice. The significance wasn't lost on him; he could practically hear his own words being echoed back at him. He felt a stab of guilt-was he the reason that Karofsky was parading himself around for strangers on the Internet? There was something gently desperate about those words, a yearning for approval that, Kurt supposed, the closeted hockey player wasn't going to hear from another boy any time soon.
As much for something for his hands to do as out of interest, he clicked on the profile link for "bighockeyjock2010". There wasn't much there beyond that he played hockey and was a fan of the Red Wings, and that he had only uploaded one video to the site since joining. Karofsky wouldn't want to say too much, Kurt supposed; for one thing, he wouldn't want people finding out his real identity, and for another he was under-age. Kurt felt a sick twist in his stomach when the realisation hit him. With his face and build, Karofsky could easily pass for an eighteen-year-old, but it meant that at least some of his 54 viewers might have unknowingly committed a misdemeanor.
Going back to the video, Kurt once again looked at the frozen face of his former bully. Did he really want to see this? Heck, this guy had had made his life a misery. If it weren't for the shock of nearly being expelled, he'd probably still be throwing slushies in his face daily rather than just glowering at him in class or pretending to ignore him in the corridors.
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a terrible idea. Most of the videos on this site featured boys getting naked and doing… well, sex things, and given that Karofsky was openly talking about his body in the description there was no reason to suppose that he wouldn't be doing exactly the same.
Standing up, Kurt paced a little, seriously weighing his morbid curiosity against his desire to be able to masturbate ever again-because he was pretty sure that watching Karofsky jerk off would ruin the experience for him forever.
But could he really pass up this opportunity? Not that Kurt wanted to see Karofsky naked; he was pretty sure that was the last thing he'd enjoy. But seeing his tormentor bashful and vulnerable, completely unaware that he was exposing himself to his long-time victim? That held a certain vindictive appeal, Kurt had to admit. And it wasn't like he was doing something wrong, he reasoned; Karofsky had put the video online for any anonymous pervert to enjoy, and if it weren't for the fact that Kurt had recognised him he'd probably have already finished watching or flicked to someone more appealing.
In the end, all it took was a second glance at Karofsky, still sat unmoving on his computer screen, and Kurt was resigned to his fate. Three important facts solidified in his mind. One, Karofsky was still clothed. Two, he could just close the window any time he wanted if he started to freak out. And three, he knew that no matter how strong his resolve, eventually sheer curiosity would force him to watch it, so he might as well get it over with.
His heart already beating a little faster, he sat down, fished out his headphones from the desk drawer and plugged them in so he could listen without anyone overhearing. He dragged the slider to the start of the video, put it back on full screen and pressed play.
Also, both Karofsky and Kurt are minors, what they are doing is illegal and I do not condone any of their actions. In particular, if I were his father, Karofsky would be in for a long, stern chat about self-respect across the dining table and his computer would be staying in the lounge until he graduated.
Kurt Hummel was many things. A fashion icon; a gifted counter-tenor; a good student; an out-and-proud flamer in a city so conservative that one of its newspapers had rallied against public libraries in the '50s.
He was also a teenage boy.
His chances of getting any action at McKinley were slim. No one else was out at school; he knew of precisely one other gay student, and the only boning that guy was getting was from the skeletons in his closet. Short of developing a slushie fetish, when his hormones overtook him he had little choice but to take matters into his own hands.
Fortunately, unlimited broadband and the generosity of anonymous hunks on the Internet made that a lot easier. All it took were a few search terms on a site whose URL he had committed to memory (and thank God for private browsing, because there was no way he was going to risk that popping up with someone looking over his shoulder) and soon, he would have more than enough material to keep him occupied for the next ten minutes.
Grabbing some lotion and pulling the tissues closer, he lied about his date of birth, waited for the page to load and tapped "hot football player" into the search bar. He had always had a thing for football players. So sue him, he liked his man candy big and dumb. Finn, Sam… Heck, even Puck, though Kurt would never admit aloud to finding that mohawk remotely adorable. He'd felt weird thinking about people he knew, though. People he would never meet on the Internet-especially when they wanted people to look at them-were a different matter entirely.
Scanning the results, he saw several that looked promising and some he had already seen. He paused for a second; he had watched quite a few (supposed) football players recently, and while he wasn't exactly tired of them he wouldn't mind a little… variety tonight. He went back to the search box, highlighted the keywords and bit his lip in thought. After a moment, he changed them to "cute hockey jock" and pressed enter.
A new set of thumbnails loaded. Opening a few in new tabs, he quickly turned down his speakers and waited a few seconds for the videos to start buffering so he could take his pick.
Hmm, a bit too skinny for me, he thought, closing the first video. The second guy had nice abs, but you couldn't see his face; he knew from experience that he had to see their eyes to get off properly, so he quickly moved on to the third guy.
And immediately closed all the other tabs.
The guy he'd settled on wasn't particularly handsome. He still had all his clothes on, so it was hard to tell if he liked his body. Neither of those were the reason for Kurt's wide eyes or parted lips. Almost without thinking, he switched the video to full screen, taking in the rounded face, the shy eyes, the broad shoulders, the big hands and wide arms. The letterman jacket slung over the back of the black sofa on which he was sat.
No way, he thought. I'm dreaming. This isn't happening. That can't possibly be who I think it is…
Silently, on the screen in front of him, Dave Karofsky opened his mouth and started to speak.
Public School Enemy No. 1 appearing out of nowhere when he'd been expecting porn was more than Kurt's head could deal with. Quickly, he pressed pause, any thoughts of sexual release fleeing to make room for a more urgent and pressing matter:
What the hell?
Breathing heavily, Kurt stared at the still image on his screen. Karofsky's mouth hung open mid-sentence. The boy looked nervous; his fingers frozen mid-fidget, his posture a transparent pretense at relaxation. He was sat back on the couch, his hands kneading his knees and his eyes fixed on the camera like it was a rattlesnake.
Shaking off the irrational feeling that the other boy could see him too, Kurt made a heroic effort to muster his thoughts into something that made sense. He soon realised that this wasn't going to work, and settled for sitting in silence for a few moments until his brain decided they were on speaking terms again.
What the hell? he asked himself for the second time. Since Karofsky was still there and he hadn't wakened up, this obviously wasn't a dream and there really was a video of Karofsky on a site that was basically YouTube for porn. Forcing his hands to move he escaped out of full screen and sought the video description.
"hey guys sup, sorry im a bit shy in this its my first time doing a video. um, so i know im not everyones type but please give me a chance im working on losing sum weight so be nice? Thanx :)"
Kurt read the description twice. The significance wasn't lost on him; he could practically hear his own words being echoed back at him. He felt a stab of guilt-was he the reason that Karofsky was parading himself around for strangers on the Internet? There was something gently desperate about those words, a yearning for approval that, Kurt supposed, the closeted hockey player wasn't going to hear from another boy any time soon.
As much for something for his hands to do as out of interest, he clicked on the profile link for "bighockeyjock2010". There wasn't much there beyond that he played hockey and was a fan of the Red Wings, and that he had only uploaded one video to the site since joining. Karofsky wouldn't want to say too much, Kurt supposed; for one thing, he wouldn't want people finding out his real identity, and for another he was under-age. Kurt felt a sick twist in his stomach when the realisation hit him. With his face and build, Karofsky could easily pass for an eighteen-year-old, but it meant that at least some of his 54 viewers might have unknowingly committed a misdemeanor.
Going back to the video, Kurt once again looked at the frozen face of his former bully. Did he really want to see this? Heck, this guy had had made his life a misery. If it weren't for the shock of nearly being expelled, he'd probably still be throwing slushies in his face daily rather than just glowering at him in class or pretending to ignore him in the corridors.
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a terrible idea. Most of the videos on this site featured boys getting naked and doing… well, sex things, and given that Karofsky was openly talking about his body in the description there was no reason to suppose that he wouldn't be doing exactly the same.
Standing up, Kurt paced a little, seriously weighing his morbid curiosity against his desire to be able to masturbate ever again-because he was pretty sure that watching Karofsky jerk off would ruin the experience for him forever.
But could he really pass up this opportunity? Not that Kurt wanted to see Karofsky naked; he was pretty sure that was the last thing he'd enjoy. But seeing his tormentor bashful and vulnerable, completely unaware that he was exposing himself to his long-time victim? That held a certain vindictive appeal, Kurt had to admit. And it wasn't like he was doing something wrong, he reasoned; Karofsky had put the video online for any anonymous pervert to enjoy, and if it weren't for the fact that Kurt had recognised him he'd probably have already finished watching or flicked to someone more appealing.
In the end, all it took was a second glance at Karofsky, still sat unmoving on his computer screen, and Kurt was resigned to his fate. Three important facts solidified in his mind. One, Karofsky was still clothed. Two, he could just close the window any time he wanted if he started to freak out. And three, he knew that no matter how strong his resolve, eventually sheer curiosity would force him to watch it, so he might as well get it over with.
His heart already beating a little faster, he sat down, fished out his headphones from the desk drawer and plugged them in so he could listen without anyone overhearing. He dragged the slider to the start of the video, put it back on full screen and pressed play.