FIC: The Proposition: A (Slightly) Inappropriate Love Story (2/?)
TITLE: The Proposition: A (Slightly) Inappropriate Love Story
AUTHORS: Gleekilicious & Tessisamess
PAIRING: Kurtofsky
RATING: Will hit NC17
WORD COUNT: 2,916 // 5,308
SPOILERS: None; AU-fic
WARNINGS: Teacher/Student
SUMMARY: Kurt's pretty sure nothing sucks worse than being the only gay kid in the changing rooms. It's hell but he does a damn good job of skipping gym for three years before he's caught and forced back. Luckily, Coach Karofsky seems to be on his side, and when Kurt accidentally sees a lot more than he was supposed to, he starts to see his coach in a whole new light. After all, who better to lose your virginity to than a (slightly) older, experienced man with a thing for 'twinks'? There's only one problem: Coach Karofsky refuses to give in to the idea, namely because Kurt's not even legal. On the plus side, Kurt's birthday is only three months away...
chapter one
◄ 2 ►
Figgins crossed his arms, leveling Kurt with a look. "I assume you know why you are here, Mr. Hummel." Kurt gritted his teeth, his legs crossed and hands tight on his knee.
"No sir, I don’t."
"Because it has come to my attention that you have not been following the rules set in place, and you," he said, turning to Dave, "have been letting him get away with it. Someone told me yesterday that you," back to Kurt, "have not been taking an active part in gym class. Again. This is not acceptable." Kurt looked over to his coach, helplessness shining in his eyes.
Dave knew someone would rat Kurt out eventually, he just hadn't realized it'd be only a week after he'd warned Kurt it might happen. Of course, he should have known, considering the kids Kurt shared a class with.
"I don't think you understand how brutal these kids are, Principal Figgins." Dave dragged a hand through his hair, making the front stick up oddly. "'Boys will be boys' just isn't a good enough excuse!" And, yeah, he might pay for that comment, but it was true.
"Just because some of the kids are difficult doesn’t give Mr. Hummel an excuse to not attend a class for almost four years now! And it doesn’t give you an excuse for giving him grades either! We don’t exclude other students from math because they don’t like it; why should Mr. Hummel be any different?"
"Sir, you don’t understand," Kurt said desperately, glancing back to the one guy who was willing to help him out. "It’s not a case of them being difficult --it’s a case of... of verbal and sometimes physical assault! I don’t feel safe in there. I can barely walk down the halls without being shoved...!" His voice caught, a wobble to it as he tried to stay strong and not do something incredibly pathetic like start crying.
Dave reached over and clapped his hand over Kurt's shoulder briefly. "Look, he does attend class --every single one. And he helps with equipment; I don't see why you can't make an exception. Look at him." he didn't mean to snap, but the hard edge to his tone was unavoidable. Dave had never been very good at controlling his emotions.
Kurt all but jumped as he was touched, but he was grateful for it, grateful for the way that his coach was fighting his corner so adamantly. Figgins sighed after a long moment, burying his face in his hands. "David, I cannot just allow one of the students to so willfully break the rules, and walk away with grades for it..."
"Please," Kurt said softly. "Just... please don’t make me go into the changing rooms. I’ll help out --I’ll even help out with one of the after-school sports clubs...!"
"I’m sorry Mr. Hummel, but that is not an option. Think of it as character building! What’s that saying... whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger." Kurt opened his mouth and, after a second, slowly closed it again. There was nothing he could do. Figgins had made up his mind and was in no way prepared to help him. Kurt stood, grabbing his bag and turning on his heel, leaving without another word. The last thing he wanted was to burst into tears in front of someone else who simply couldn’t give less of a damn about him.
"This is bullshit." Dave barked, standing so abruptly that his chair was knocked onto its side. He ignored Figgins' sharp cry of "Mister Karofsky" and left the office before he could say something he'd really regret.
*
Dave didn't think he was especially perverted. No more or less than any other regular guy, anyway. Because, honestly, at the end of the day all people were at least a little perverted. And, really, this was ...probably the dirtiest thing he'd ever done --and it wasn't even that dirty. Just a little... okay, really inappropriate. Actually, he could probably get fired for it. But that's why he'd waited until school had let out and the buses had left to do it.
When it came right down to it, Dave blamed 206 with a vengeance. 206 was his downstairs neighbor. He was a skinny, rat-looking older guy who always walked around the building in paint covered slacks and an undershirt complaining about non-existent noises just so he could, presumably, have something to complain about. Dave had been quietly using his wifi since he first moved in. Last week 206 decided to come upstairs to bitch at Dave and tell him to shut his dog up. Only... Dave didn't even have a dog. Hell, he didn't even own Cujo! His ex-boyfriend had snagged that. Dave had told him to quit being a dick and the next day the wifi connection was password protected and renamed to "GET YOUR OWN WIFI MOTHERFUCKER."
Which left Dave in his office after school like some sort of weirdo, using a proxy so he could look at fucking porn and get off before he went home.
Kurt had just stepped out of glee club after a nice session of self-indulgent misery through the medium of song --because really, what said ‘this blows’ more than a mash up of ‘I Want To Break Free’ and ‘Again I Go Unnoticed’? He collected his books and looked glumly over his timetable, glaring at the stark ‘Gym’ on his otherwise perfect sheet. There was nothing he or Coach Karofsky could do... Figgins was bent on being an asshole and not realizing what sort of hell Kurt was going to go through, and despite both of their efforts... ugh.
Still... he should really go and thank him for at least trying. He’d need a friend of sorts, and even if he got jibes for being a ‘teacher’s pet’ it was better than the alternative. The last thing he wanted was for Coach Karofsky to think he was ungrateful. With that in mind he turned and headed towards the office, moving almost silently down the empty halls.
The proxy was a bitch to work with. It didn't actually work with any of his normal sites, so he had to go digging for something the proxy would work with. Once he'd finally found a site that'd work (and that he actually wanted to get off to) he'd wasted a good ten minutes. He wished for the thousandth time that the lock on his office door was more reliable as he shifted and slipped his hand down the front of his shorts after unzipping them. Thanks to the seemingly constant budget cuts he didn't see the lock getting fixed anytime soon. Dave glanced at the door one more time before hitting the play button on the video player.
Kurt finally arrived at Coach Karofsky’s office ten minutes later after taking a detour because of a threatening group of jocks that had been walking around. The last thing he needed was anyone to start trouble. Kurt wasn’t really thinking as he opened the door --after all, he barely knocked now anyway, and it wasn’t as if Coach Karofsky would be busy. Besides, Kurt wasn’t even sure he was there. He took half a step in and froze, mouth dropping open.
ϟOhhh --fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!ϟ
The thin young man on screen was nearly bent in half, wailing as he was pounded into the bed by a larger man who was roughly the same age.
ϟYeahyeahyeah that's it --god --yeah! Gonna come! Gonna fucking come!ϟ
Dave wished he could say the same. He was hard as a fucking rock and his hand was moving over his cock like there was no tomorrow --but fuck if jacking off in his office didn't make him feel weirder than he'd expected. Yeah, he'd thought it'd be kind of off, but this? This was ridiculous. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to finish.
Kurt felt as if all the air in the room had been sucked from his lungs and he reached out, grabbing the door frame to steady himself as he stared at the scene before him. Coach Karofsky had his back to him, but was at an angle that Kurt could see, well... everything. Absolutely everything, including the screen where the slim, pale, brunette was whimpering for more and the way his coach’s hand was moving over his--
Kurt swayed, sucking in a sharp breath as arousal hit him so hard he felt dizzy, his brain swimming and his knees weak. He’d tried watching porn - of course he had, what teen hadn’t? - but he’d always found them slightly cringe-worthy and a tad depressing, if only because he felt all the more alone after them. He was fine with images and written erotica; but this? This was, without a doubt, the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
The second Dave heard Kurt his hand flew off of his cock and he turned quickly --then pushed the chair back so hard that it tipped and dumped him on the floor. He smacked his knee into the side of his desk but he barely noticed it over all the mental panic alarms going off. He scrambled to shove his dick back in his pants and zip them as he stood, one hand slapping out to hit the power button on the monitor as he struggled to get the button into the hole with one hand.
ϟGimme that big fucking co--ϟ
"Oh --my fucking god." Dave gasped, staring dumbly at Kurt. "Shit, Hummel what are you doing here?" He didn't even try and say it wasn't what it looked like. Of course it fucking was. He glanced past his student's head as if expecting Figgins to materialize out of nowhere. "Fuck --fuck! Please, Jesus Christ, dude. Please don't report me." He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't get himself to shut the fuck up. "I'll lose my job for sure and --shit, I swear I don't, like, do this all the time --this was the first fucking time, hand to God."
Kurt jumped like a scalded cat as Dave noticed him and went on a two second whirlwind of panic and confusion that did absolutely nothing to calm his own ‘problem’, though thankfully he had enough blood left in his brain to yank his bag over his crotch. He was breathing hard, cheeks flushed as he stared at his coach - his coach who had been jerking off in his office to gay porn, which meant that... - Kurt swallowed, opening his mouth and trying to find the words to reassure him that he wasn’t going to report him.
"Y-... you’re gay?" he asked, his voice a high squeak.
"I--" the question caught Dave off-guard. He wasn't sure why; it wasn't the weirdest thing Kurt could have asked --of course, it also wasn't the first thing he'd expected to hear, either. "All my life," he joked weakly, cringing slightly at how stupid it sounded. Dave bent over and righted his chair so he could sit down. The second his ass hit the pleather, though, Dave shot right back up as something occurred to him. "Um... that's --that's not why I'm --oh, Jesus shitfuck. Me being nice to you --I'm not, you know, coming onto you." He promised in a hurried mess. "I just --fuck. I know what it's like. I went here too, y'know?"
"Okay," he breathed, eyes still wide and fixed on Dave - though they kept dropping lower before he guiltily looked back up. Gay. Coach Karofsky was gay. It made sense - oh, god how it made sense! - and he was apparently into twinks and... Kurt tried to remember how to breathe, his jeans way, way too tight. "Okay," he repeated, sounding slightly strangled. "That-- I won’t... I won’t tell anyone... I promise..."
He was still reeling from the shock, his mind replaying every time he’d been helped out, every time he’d been stuck up for - and... every time he’d ruefully thought about how Coach Karofsky hadn’t really understood. How wrong he’d been.
"God," Dave moaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You probably should tell on me." he muttered. "I wouldn't be mad if you did. I mean --god. I don't even know what I was fucking thinking --fu-- sorry. If you tell on me please don't tell them I cussed at you." Dave sank down in his chair, staying there this time, knee bouncing nervously.
"I’m not," Kurt said quickly, shaking his head as he managed to harness a little more thinking power. "I’m not going to... to say anything to anyone. I mean, how would I even start that conversation?" He laughed, though it was forced and awkward. "I-- um... no. No telling. I should... I should probably go, um..." he trailed off, taking half a step backwards.
"Yeah, um... yeah. Me too." Dave looked around, feeling a little lost, then grabbed his keys and wallet off of the desk, standing as he shoved them both into his pocket. "Did you... need something?" It was a little late for that now. Kurt would probably never trust him again. He'd been trying so hard to be a good teacher and get into the hang of things --and here he was fucking it all up worse than he ever imagined he would.
"I, um... no... I just... I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me today. I guess I understand why now, but..." he stepped out of the room, still clutching his bag awkwardly to him. "I-- yeah. Thank you. It means a lot." Kurt took a deep, steadying breath. He could get home and process all of this there. "Sorry for... for not knocking."
"It's cool," Dave managed, the words somehow managing to sound tired and choked at the same time. He waited for Kurt to leave, standing awkwardly in the middle of his office, before moving to do the same --after he, er. Cleared the web history, of course.
*
The drive home was something Kurt never wanted to do half-hard again. He was shaking, dizzy and so damn turned on he could barely concentrate on the road. He could only thank his dad’s work schedule that no one was home and he was able to scramble out of his coat and hang up his bag before heading upstairs.
Coach Karofsky was gay. Gay and... and apparently he jerked off in his office after school to twinks. To... to pale-skinned, slim brunettes - just like himself - and... and god he’d be lying if he said the man wasn’t everything that turned him on too. Tall and broad - just that bit older and more experienced, and his cock-- Kurt swayed, sucking in a sharp breath as he opened his bedroom door and locked it behind him again.
His fingers were shaking as he undid the buttons and fly of his jeans, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his shirt until he was left in his boxers and achingly hard. God, he could still see it in his mind’s eye; the movement of Coach Karofsky’s hand over his cock, the shine of precome over his head and-- and... Kurt exhaled shakily, pressing his hand over the tent of his boxers. Relief and bliss shot through him and he could barely bite back a moan. After a second he moved, taking a step forwards and collapsing down onto his bed.
Kurt’s fingers hooked into his boxers as he started to replay the whole scene - the dialogue from the movie providing a backdrop of noise as he closed his eyes and slid down his underwear, his hand curling around his cock a second later. He bit back another noise, fingers twitching as he slowly stroked himself. He could see it now... the flex in Coach Karofsky’s arm, the flicker of muscle, the color and size of his cock...
And then Kurt’s mind started to wander. What if... if he’d walked in and reached over... replaced his coach’s hand with his own - felt that heat and weight and... and... okay, he knew he was just running purely on fantasy now, but... but what if... if Coach Karofsky had turned and tugged down Kurt’s own jeans... his hand sliding inside and - Kurt squeezed himself, hard - started to touch him too... and then... then what if he pushed him (after a few moments, of course) across the desk and then slid his fingers - slick with lubricant - into him.
Kurt was breathless, his thighs flexing as he stroked himself harder and faster, light moans and groans slipping from his lips as he imagined the way his coach’s fingers would curl inside him, his free hand running over his back, the press and stretch and then... then something thicker. Hotter. Better, pushing into Kurt and... and rocking slowly before picking up speed, moving harder and faster and--
Kurt jerked with a low, desperate cry, his come spilling all over his hand and stomach. He lazily stroked himself through the haze of orgasm, slumping down against his sheets to just breathe for a moment, slow and deep. Oh, shit. Kurt bit his lip. He’d just gotten off to... to a teacher. A really, really hot, gay teacher and-- shit.
After a long moment he climbed off his bed again and headed to the shower, forcing himself to stop thinking back over what had just happened.
◄◄ ■ ►►
AUTHORS: Gleekilicious & Tessisamess
PAIRING: Kurtofsky
RATING: Will hit NC17
WORD COUNT: 2,916 // 5,308
SPOILERS: None; AU-fic
WARNINGS: Teacher/Student
SUMMARY: Kurt's pretty sure nothing sucks worse than being the only gay kid in the changing rooms. It's hell but he does a damn good job of skipping gym for three years before he's caught and forced back. Luckily, Coach Karofsky seems to be on his side, and when Kurt accidentally sees a lot more than he was supposed to, he starts to see his coach in a whole new light. After all, who better to lose your virginity to than a (slightly) older, experienced man with a thing for 'twinks'? There's only one problem: Coach Karofsky refuses to give in to the idea, namely because Kurt's not even legal. On the plus side, Kurt's birthday is only three months away...
chapter one
◄ 2 ►
Figgins crossed his arms, leveling Kurt with a look. "I assume you know why you are here, Mr. Hummel." Kurt gritted his teeth, his legs crossed and hands tight on his knee.
"No sir, I don’t."
"Because it has come to my attention that you have not been following the rules set in place, and you," he said, turning to Dave, "have been letting him get away with it. Someone told me yesterday that you," back to Kurt, "have not been taking an active part in gym class. Again. This is not acceptable." Kurt looked over to his coach, helplessness shining in his eyes.
Dave knew someone would rat Kurt out eventually, he just hadn't realized it'd be only a week after he'd warned Kurt it might happen. Of course, he should have known, considering the kids Kurt shared a class with.
"I don't think you understand how brutal these kids are, Principal Figgins." Dave dragged a hand through his hair, making the front stick up oddly. "'Boys will be boys' just isn't a good enough excuse!" And, yeah, he might pay for that comment, but it was true.
"Just because some of the kids are difficult doesn’t give Mr. Hummel an excuse to not attend a class for almost four years now! And it doesn’t give you an excuse for giving him grades either! We don’t exclude other students from math because they don’t like it; why should Mr. Hummel be any different?"
"Sir, you don’t understand," Kurt said desperately, glancing back to the one guy who was willing to help him out. "It’s not a case of them being difficult --it’s a case of... of verbal and sometimes physical assault! I don’t feel safe in there. I can barely walk down the halls without being shoved...!" His voice caught, a wobble to it as he tried to stay strong and not do something incredibly pathetic like start crying.
Dave reached over and clapped his hand over Kurt's shoulder briefly. "Look, he does attend class --every single one. And he helps with equipment; I don't see why you can't make an exception. Look at him." he didn't mean to snap, but the hard edge to his tone was unavoidable. Dave had never been very good at controlling his emotions.
Kurt all but jumped as he was touched, but he was grateful for it, grateful for the way that his coach was fighting his corner so adamantly. Figgins sighed after a long moment, burying his face in his hands. "David, I cannot just allow one of the students to so willfully break the rules, and walk away with grades for it..."
"Please," Kurt said softly. "Just... please don’t make me go into the changing rooms. I’ll help out --I’ll even help out with one of the after-school sports clubs...!"
"I’m sorry Mr. Hummel, but that is not an option. Think of it as character building! What’s that saying... whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger." Kurt opened his mouth and, after a second, slowly closed it again. There was nothing he could do. Figgins had made up his mind and was in no way prepared to help him. Kurt stood, grabbing his bag and turning on his heel, leaving without another word. The last thing he wanted was to burst into tears in front of someone else who simply couldn’t give less of a damn about him.
"This is bullshit." Dave barked, standing so abruptly that his chair was knocked onto its side. He ignored Figgins' sharp cry of "Mister Karofsky" and left the office before he could say something he'd really regret.
*
Dave didn't think he was especially perverted. No more or less than any other regular guy, anyway. Because, honestly, at the end of the day all people were at least a little perverted. And, really, this was ...probably the dirtiest thing he'd ever done --and it wasn't even that dirty. Just a little... okay, really inappropriate. Actually, he could probably get fired for it. But that's why he'd waited until school had let out and the buses had left to do it.
When it came right down to it, Dave blamed 206 with a vengeance. 206 was his downstairs neighbor. He was a skinny, rat-looking older guy who always walked around the building in paint covered slacks and an undershirt complaining about non-existent noises just so he could, presumably, have something to complain about. Dave had been quietly using his wifi since he first moved in. Last week 206 decided to come upstairs to bitch at Dave and tell him to shut his dog up. Only... Dave didn't even have a dog. Hell, he didn't even own Cujo! His ex-boyfriend had snagged that. Dave had told him to quit being a dick and the next day the wifi connection was password protected and renamed to "GET YOUR OWN WIFI MOTHERFUCKER."
Which left Dave in his office after school like some sort of weirdo, using a proxy so he could look at fucking porn and get off before he went home.
Kurt had just stepped out of glee club after a nice session of self-indulgent misery through the medium of song --because really, what said ‘this blows’ more than a mash up of ‘I Want To Break Free’ and ‘Again I Go Unnoticed’? He collected his books and looked glumly over his timetable, glaring at the stark ‘Gym’ on his otherwise perfect sheet. There was nothing he or Coach Karofsky could do... Figgins was bent on being an asshole and not realizing what sort of hell Kurt was going to go through, and despite both of their efforts... ugh.
Still... he should really go and thank him for at least trying. He’d need a friend of sorts, and even if he got jibes for being a ‘teacher’s pet’ it was better than the alternative. The last thing he wanted was for Coach Karofsky to think he was ungrateful. With that in mind he turned and headed towards the office, moving almost silently down the empty halls.
The proxy was a bitch to work with. It didn't actually work with any of his normal sites, so he had to go digging for something the proxy would work with. Once he'd finally found a site that'd work (and that he actually wanted to get off to) he'd wasted a good ten minutes. He wished for the thousandth time that the lock on his office door was more reliable as he shifted and slipped his hand down the front of his shorts after unzipping them. Thanks to the seemingly constant budget cuts he didn't see the lock getting fixed anytime soon. Dave glanced at the door one more time before hitting the play button on the video player.
Kurt finally arrived at Coach Karofsky’s office ten minutes later after taking a detour because of a threatening group of jocks that had been walking around. The last thing he needed was anyone to start trouble. Kurt wasn’t really thinking as he opened the door --after all, he barely knocked now anyway, and it wasn’t as if Coach Karofsky would be busy. Besides, Kurt wasn’t even sure he was there. He took half a step in and froze, mouth dropping open.
ϟOhhh --fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!ϟ
The thin young man on screen was nearly bent in half, wailing as he was pounded into the bed by a larger man who was roughly the same age.
ϟYeahyeahyeah that's it --god --yeah! Gonna come! Gonna fucking come!ϟ
Dave wished he could say the same. He was hard as a fucking rock and his hand was moving over his cock like there was no tomorrow --but fuck if jacking off in his office didn't make him feel weirder than he'd expected. Yeah, he'd thought it'd be kind of off, but this? This was ridiculous. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to finish.
Kurt felt as if all the air in the room had been sucked from his lungs and he reached out, grabbing the door frame to steady himself as he stared at the scene before him. Coach Karofsky had his back to him, but was at an angle that Kurt could see, well... everything. Absolutely everything, including the screen where the slim, pale, brunette was whimpering for more and the way his coach’s hand was moving over his--
Kurt swayed, sucking in a sharp breath as arousal hit him so hard he felt dizzy, his brain swimming and his knees weak. He’d tried watching porn - of course he had, what teen hadn’t? - but he’d always found them slightly cringe-worthy and a tad depressing, if only because he felt all the more alone after them. He was fine with images and written erotica; but this? This was, without a doubt, the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
The second Dave heard Kurt his hand flew off of his cock and he turned quickly --then pushed the chair back so hard that it tipped and dumped him on the floor. He smacked his knee into the side of his desk but he barely noticed it over all the mental panic alarms going off. He scrambled to shove his dick back in his pants and zip them as he stood, one hand slapping out to hit the power button on the monitor as he struggled to get the button into the hole with one hand.
ϟGimme that big fucking co--ϟ
"Oh --my fucking god." Dave gasped, staring dumbly at Kurt. "Shit, Hummel what are you doing here?" He didn't even try and say it wasn't what it looked like. Of course it fucking was. He glanced past his student's head as if expecting Figgins to materialize out of nowhere. "Fuck --fuck! Please, Jesus Christ, dude. Please don't report me." He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't get himself to shut the fuck up. "I'll lose my job for sure and --shit, I swear I don't, like, do this all the time --this was the first fucking time, hand to God."
Kurt jumped like a scalded cat as Dave noticed him and went on a two second whirlwind of panic and confusion that did absolutely nothing to calm his own ‘problem’, though thankfully he had enough blood left in his brain to yank his bag over his crotch. He was breathing hard, cheeks flushed as he stared at his coach - his coach who had been jerking off in his office to gay porn, which meant that... - Kurt swallowed, opening his mouth and trying to find the words to reassure him that he wasn’t going to report him.
"Y-... you’re gay?" he asked, his voice a high squeak.
"I--" the question caught Dave off-guard. He wasn't sure why; it wasn't the weirdest thing Kurt could have asked --of course, it also wasn't the first thing he'd expected to hear, either. "All my life," he joked weakly, cringing slightly at how stupid it sounded. Dave bent over and righted his chair so he could sit down. The second his ass hit the pleather, though, Dave shot right back up as something occurred to him. "Um... that's --that's not why I'm --oh, Jesus shitfuck. Me being nice to you --I'm not, you know, coming onto you." He promised in a hurried mess. "I just --fuck. I know what it's like. I went here too, y'know?"
"Okay," he breathed, eyes still wide and fixed on Dave - though they kept dropping lower before he guiltily looked back up. Gay. Coach Karofsky was gay. It made sense - oh, god how it made sense! - and he was apparently into twinks and... Kurt tried to remember how to breathe, his jeans way, way too tight. "Okay," he repeated, sounding slightly strangled. "That-- I won’t... I won’t tell anyone... I promise..."
He was still reeling from the shock, his mind replaying every time he’d been helped out, every time he’d been stuck up for - and... every time he’d ruefully thought about how Coach Karofsky hadn’t really understood. How wrong he’d been.
"God," Dave moaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You probably should tell on me." he muttered. "I wouldn't be mad if you did. I mean --god. I don't even know what I was fucking thinking --fu-- sorry. If you tell on me please don't tell them I cussed at you." Dave sank down in his chair, staying there this time, knee bouncing nervously.
"I’m not," Kurt said quickly, shaking his head as he managed to harness a little more thinking power. "I’m not going to... to say anything to anyone. I mean, how would I even start that conversation?" He laughed, though it was forced and awkward. "I-- um... no. No telling. I should... I should probably go, um..." he trailed off, taking half a step backwards.
"Yeah, um... yeah. Me too." Dave looked around, feeling a little lost, then grabbed his keys and wallet off of the desk, standing as he shoved them both into his pocket. "Did you... need something?" It was a little late for that now. Kurt would probably never trust him again. He'd been trying so hard to be a good teacher and get into the hang of things --and here he was fucking it all up worse than he ever imagined he would.
"I, um... no... I just... I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me today. I guess I understand why now, but..." he stepped out of the room, still clutching his bag awkwardly to him. "I-- yeah. Thank you. It means a lot." Kurt took a deep, steadying breath. He could get home and process all of this there. "Sorry for... for not knocking."
"It's cool," Dave managed, the words somehow managing to sound tired and choked at the same time. He waited for Kurt to leave, standing awkwardly in the middle of his office, before moving to do the same --after he, er. Cleared the web history, of course.
*
The drive home was something Kurt never wanted to do half-hard again. He was shaking, dizzy and so damn turned on he could barely concentrate on the road. He could only thank his dad’s work schedule that no one was home and he was able to scramble out of his coat and hang up his bag before heading upstairs.
Coach Karofsky was gay. Gay and... and apparently he jerked off in his office after school to twinks. To... to pale-skinned, slim brunettes - just like himself - and... and god he’d be lying if he said the man wasn’t everything that turned him on too. Tall and broad - just that bit older and more experienced, and his cock-- Kurt swayed, sucking in a sharp breath as he opened his bedroom door and locked it behind him again.
His fingers were shaking as he undid the buttons and fly of his jeans, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his shirt until he was left in his boxers and achingly hard. God, he could still see it in his mind’s eye; the movement of Coach Karofsky’s hand over his cock, the shine of precome over his head and-- and... Kurt exhaled shakily, pressing his hand over the tent of his boxers. Relief and bliss shot through him and he could barely bite back a moan. After a second he moved, taking a step forwards and collapsing down onto his bed.
Kurt’s fingers hooked into his boxers as he started to replay the whole scene - the dialogue from the movie providing a backdrop of noise as he closed his eyes and slid down his underwear, his hand curling around his cock a second later. He bit back another noise, fingers twitching as he slowly stroked himself. He could see it now... the flex in Coach Karofsky’s arm, the flicker of muscle, the color and size of his cock...
And then Kurt’s mind started to wander. What if... if he’d walked in and reached over... replaced his coach’s hand with his own - felt that heat and weight and... and... okay, he knew he was just running purely on fantasy now, but... but what if... if Coach Karofsky had turned and tugged down Kurt’s own jeans... his hand sliding inside and - Kurt squeezed himself, hard - started to touch him too... and then... then what if he pushed him (after a few moments, of course) across the desk and then slid his fingers - slick with lubricant - into him.
Kurt was breathless, his thighs flexing as he stroked himself harder and faster, light moans and groans slipping from his lips as he imagined the way his coach’s fingers would curl inside him, his free hand running over his back, the press and stretch and then... then something thicker. Hotter. Better, pushing into Kurt and... and rocking slowly before picking up speed, moving harder and faster and--
Kurt jerked with a low, desperate cry, his come spilling all over his hand and stomach. He lazily stroked himself through the haze of orgasm, slumping down against his sheets to just breathe for a moment, slow and deep. Oh, shit. Kurt bit his lip. He’d just gotten off to... to a teacher. A really, really hot, gay teacher and-- shit.
After a long moment he climbed off his bed again and headed to the shower, forcing himself to stop thinking back over what had just happened.
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