"My Body Betrays Me," Chapter One: Dave. Kurt/Karofsky, endgame Kurt/Blaine
Title: "My Body Betrays Me" (Chapter One: Dave)
Author: emilianadarling
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: non-con/dub-con Kurt/Karofsky, Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Vaguely explained magic, non-con, dub-con, awful situations, manipulation, self-deluding, crack prompt gone serious.
Length: 8,500 for this chapter.
Spoilers: This is an AU, so not really.
Story Summary: Kurt’s been in a secret relationship with his roommate at Dalton for months. That would be fine... if he wanted any of it. If he could say no, and if Dave would listen. If he were with Blaine, his wonderful friend from the school’s glee club, instead.
Prompt: Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme. Kurt has to follow orders. Karofsky takes advantage. Blaine just wants to make everything all right again.
Notes: I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry. I blame the kinkmeme for putting ideas in my head.
There is now podfic for this story.
By the time Dave finishes off the last body paragraph of his essay, the small white numbers in the bottom corner of his screen inform him that it is well past midnight.
Dave blinks, hard, and reaches up a hand to massage the bridge of his nose. After several hours spent staring at the dim glow of his laptop screen, his eyes feel heavy and sore. His whole body aches slightly, as well, from being scrunched up into his desk chair for so many hours. Already having loosened his tie and draped his blazer over the back of his chair, Dave rolls up the sleeves of his long white button-up. He glances at the clock again and frowns, turning to survey the emptiness of the room behind him.
Other than the brightness of the laptop screen, the glow of his desk lamp is the room’s only source of light. Its dimness leaves the small but comfortable dorm edged in shadow, but everything is still visible. His own solid desk. Another desk across the room, identical but for its tidiness. The two twin beds, both draped in maroon sheets and edged by handsome bed frames in a dark wood. Dave’s bed is made but messy, the top corner of blankets tossed back in preparation for sleep. The other bed has been made with extreme attention to detail; ever sheet corner and edge tucked carefully beneath the mattress.
Dave lets out a sigh and turns back to his paper, mentally preparing himself to tackle its concluding paragraph. Having an essay due tomorrow afternoon is stressful, of course, and Literature has never been his favourite subject. Simultaneously, however, it feels... nice. Exciting, almost, to be able to work hard at school without having to fake apathy.
At his old high school, trying to do well in any class had practically been social suicide. Dave had been forced into an intense balancing act to maintain his average for his parents without letting on to his friends that he gave a shit. Since transferring to Dalton, however, doing well was encouraged. Hell, almost all of the popular guys in school performed well academically - and most even participated in after-hours clubs. It was absurdly liberating.
As much as Dave had been against transferring initially, in the end it had been the right decision. He can show off his intelligence and not be shamed, which is incredible. But also... also, no one knows about that here. Dave is aware, intellectually, that no one at Dalton would hate him for being the way he is. Regardless, having the option of not letting anyone know is even better.
Plus, there is Kurt.
Something complicated and dark twists in the bottom of Dave’s stomach, but he pushes the feeling down. Because he has Kurt, and that’s all that matters. The fact that he can hold Kurt close, and kiss him on the lips, and make him feel good... that is so much more important than anything else.
And Dave knows, deep down, that Kurt loves him too.
Comforted, he begins to work on revising his conclusion. He is in the process of attempting to determine the best way to rephrase his thesis statement for the umpteenth time when the door to their dorm creaks ever-so-slowly open. Dave looks up just in time to see Kurt standing in the doorframe, frozen in place with his eyes wide open. He looks very much like a deer caught in the headlights.
“You’re still up,” Kurt says, voice stilted, and God is he ever gorgeous. All delicate bones and ramrod-straight posture, and the blazer sleeve on his outstretched arm is pulled up just enough to reveal one of his delicate wrists. The skin there is pale against the navy fabric. His hair understated but classy, and his eyes so blue it practically hurts.
“Lord of the Flies paper is due for Lit by tomorrow afternoon,” says Dave by way of explanation. That particular blazer is too big on Kurt, and the way it hangs over the other boy’s small frame makes affection swell up strong in Dave’s chest. “I was wondering where you were; curfew was ages ago.” Dave smiles warmly. “Now... close the door and come here.”
Kurt stiffens, freezing in place and gripping the doorknob so hard that his hand shakes. This happens, sometimes, and Dave knows well enough to wait it out. He isn’t even able to count to five in his head before Kurt lets go, and within the space of a few seconds the dorm room door is closed and Kurt is standing right in front of him, close enough to touch.
And Dave isn’t going to ignore an invitation like that. He reaches out a strong arm and wraps it around Kurt’s waist, tugging Kurt gently onto his lap. The wheeled chair squeaks softly under the added weight, and Dave wraps his arms around Kurt’s small waist and buries his nose in Kurt’s hair. It smells like product, and expensive shampoo, and underlying it all the smell of Kurt. It makes Dave shiver.
“Hey, babe,” whispers Dave, squeezing Kurt around the middle. Annoyingly, Kurt is rigid and stiff in his arms. “Relax,” Dave adds, and the tension leaves Kurt’s body at once. The sensation of Kurt relaxing into Dave’s hold is so good that all Dave can do for a moment is close his eyes and breathe.
Kurt feels so delicate, so defenceless like this.
So mine.
After taking a few moments to recover, Dave leans forward and presses a kiss to Kurt’s pale neck. “How was your day?”
“Mmm,” responds Kurt noncommittally, in a small voice. Dave nips Kurt’s neck gently in chastisement, and Kurt sighs and continues. “It was okay. History wasn’t too bad, and French was actually kinda fun. I have two midterms next week, though, so that’s not exciting.”
“Which classes?”
“French and Chemistry.”
“Mmm.” Dave leans in and presses a kiss to the place where Kurt’s jaw meets his neck, and Kurt shivers in his arms. Encouraged, Dave continues to kiss along the pale skin of Kurt’s neck, his jaw, the shell of his ear. “You’ll do great, babe. You’re practically fluent in French anyways.” Unconsciously, he begins to rub Kurt’s flat stomach; the thick material of the Dalton blazer is rough under his hand. “So smart, Kurt. So beautiful.”
“Dave...”
Dave can feel Kurt beginning to tense in his arms. All at once, he wants to see Kurt’s face more than anything in the world. He presses one last kiss to Kurt’s throat.
“Turn around,” instructs Dave, voice full of warmth, and Kurt hesitates for a long moment before twisting around on top of him, moving so that he is facing Dave while straddling his lap. Dave can feel Kurt’s breath just barely tickling his nose, they’re so close together.
This new position also affords Dave a great view of Kurt’s face, which is... exquisite. Soft, full lips and a completely adorable nose. Eyebrows immaculately shaped, and those eyes. Strikingly blue and stunning, framed by thick dark lashes. Everything about Kurt’s face is perfect.
Except for his expression. His beautiful face is pulled into a look that Dave doesn’t like to see. It’s... tired. Wary. And if Dave looks hard enough, and for long enough, he can even see the resignation there. He doesn’t want to see that, hates seeing Kurt look at him that way. So Dave pulls Kurt down and kisses him on the mouth.
The kiss sends heat straight to Dave’s cock, even if Kurt’s lips stay unmoving and hard beneath his own at first.
“Kiss me back,” murmurs Dave against Kurt’s lips, and suddenly Kurt is right there. Dave lets out a groan as Kurt opens his mouth to him, letting Dave’s tongue push into the warm sweetness of his mouth. Kurt lets out a small, breathy noise as their mouths move together. Dave’s hands spread wide in the small of Kurt’s back, keeping him close. Kurt’s thigh brushes Dave’s erection, hot and hard in his pants, and the tiny hint of sensation makes Dave inhale sharply and hold him tighter.
When Dave finally lets Kurt pull away, Kurt is breathing heavily and there is a faint flush growing in his cheeks. His eyebrows are pulled together in a worried expression.
“Dave -” Kurt tries again, but Dave gets there first.
“Tell me where you were.”
The words leave Kurt’s mouth before he can even attempt to contain them:
“I was studying with Jeff for our French midterm in his room,” says Kurt, before clamping his lips together and looking upset with himself. Dave raises an eyebrow.
“You that worried about French?” He’s trying to keep his voice even. Of course Kurt can study with whomever he likes. Of course he can.
Except... knowing his boyfriend’s spent the evening alone with a boy Dave knows to be fairly handsome and terribly charismatic makes Dave feel... anxious. Self-conscious. Vaguely upset, even.
“It’s not that,” Kurt rushes, eyes blown wide, and Dave pulls him into another kiss. This time, though, Kurt responds without having to be told. He presses himself right up close to Dave’s body, long arms wrapping around Dave’s neck as he kisses Dave enthusiastically. Lets Dave bite down softly on his bottom lip, lets Dave slide his hands down and cup Kurt’s pert ass.
It is times like this where Dave knows - truly and completely - that Kurt loves him. He does. He must. He just has to be reminded every once and a while, and Dave can live with that.
Kurt presses one last kiss against Dave’s lips, warm and soft, and pulls away.
“It’s not that,” Kurt says again, and his words are tentative. Careful. “It’s just... Dave, we spend a lot of time together. And... it’s nice. Being able to study with a friend.”
And that, of course, makes Dave’s frustration crumble. Because he knows that Kurt hadn’t had any friends at all at his last school, had faced off threats and violence and abuse from his peers every single day just for being who he was. He hadn’t been able to hide, like Dave had, behind sports and bravado and bluster. And of course he enjoyed being in a place where people loved him, and cherished him, and wanted to spend time with him.
“C’mere,” murmurs Dave, before getting a firm grip on Kurt’s waist and standing up without any other warning. Kurt gasps, wrapping his legs around Dave’s middle and clinging to him as Dave walks them across the room to his already messy bed. Kurt barely weighs anything at all, really, and it’s easy enough. Dave is already lying Kurt down on his bed before he realizes that Kurt is speaking.
“Dave. Dave, just... it’s late. I’m pretty tired.”
Dave leans forward and kisses Kurt on the forehead. “We won’t take long, babe, I promise.” Kurt’s a wonderful student, but he does need to learn to lighten up a little bit. Staying up another half hour won’t make a huge difference in class tomorrow, at this point.
“And... don’t you have a paper due tomorrow?” Kurt pushes himself into a sitting position against the pillows, looking anxious.
Warmth blossoms in Dave’s chest as Kurt’s concern. “It’s almost done, don’t worry. I can finish up the last little bit and print it in the morning.” He leans forward and brushes his thumb against the soft skin of Kurt’s cheek. “Now, stop worrying and get naked.”
Kurt goes rigid on the bed, and Dave stands up to begin removing his own clothes. Dave is only half-way through unbuttoning his own shirt, though, when Kurt gives in. Long, delicate fingers reach down and begin to remove the formal Dalton blazer - and Dave’s own hands still, completely hypnotized by the sight of watching Kurt undress.
No matter how many times Dave sees this, it’s always like watching a present just for him get slowly unwrapped. Kurt strips off his blazer, loosens the tie and slides it up over his head. When Kurt begins to unbutton his own white button-up, Dave can’t help but let out a small desperate noise of pleasure as more and more of Kurt’s pale chest comes into view. And when that, too, falls aside... the tightness between Dave’s legs grows almost unbearable.
Having so much of that pale skin on display is intoxicating, and so too is the way Kurt’s chest tapers into that tiny waist. He’s so delicate; all small and thin and shoulders so very defined, and the soft pink of his nipples stands out sharply against the unbelievable paleness of his skin. Kurt doesn’t look him in the eye when, naked from the waist up, he reaches down and unbuttons the fly of his slacks. The drag of Kurt’s zipper is almost obscene in the silence. And then, still looking away, Kurt raises his hips in the air and begins to slide his pants off.
“Fuck, ” hisses Dave, frantically starting to claw at his own clothes again as he watches Kurt pull of the pants, his socks, his underwear. Until they are both naked in front of one another in the quiet room.
And then Dave cannot hold himself back anymore. Cannot stop himself from clambering onto the bed with Kurt, from getting into a sitting position and pulling Kurt on top of him. Dave digs a hand into Kurt’s hair and drags him close, kissing him hard and deep.
“You’re so hot, Kurt,” Dave says in between kisses. “God, you’re so perfect.”
He reaches down and grips Kurt’s ass, rolling his hips up - but when their cocks rub together, Dave realizes that Kurt is only half-hard.
Dave wants to make Kurt feel good. Wants to make this gorgeous boy tremble and gasp with pleasure under his hands. To lose control, to not hold back anymore. He wants Kurt to let Dave do whatever he likes to him, to make Kurt take it and take it until he can’t stand it.
“It’s okay,” murmurs Dave, stroking a comforting hand through Kurt’s hair. “It’s okay, babe. Don’t hold back; just enjoy.” He leans forward and kisses Kurt just in time to capture the whimper that escapes his lips, and when he rolls his hips up again he finds Kurt hard and wanting.
The slide of their erections against each other - Dave’s large and thick, Kurt’s slender and rosy - feels incredible, and Dave groans at the sensation. The grind together, and Dave can’t help but notice how Kurt rubs back against him, how he whines for more. After a while, Dave reaches up and takes Kurt’s cock in hand.
“Ah!” Kurt cries out, hands flying up to cover his face. As though it’s too much for Dave to see him like this, crazed with pleasure and desperate to be touched. Dave continues to stroke, Kurt’s cock warm and hard in his hand.
“Let me see you, Kurt,” says Dave, brushing his thumb over the tip. Kurt gasps, but lowers his shaking hands obediently to rest on Dave’s shoulders. The obstruction gone, Dave can just look into Kurt’s face and enjoy. Because Kurt feels everything so strongly, reacts to every touch and stroke and squeeze, and his beautifully expressive face displays every glorious second of it.
It’s unreal, how beautiful he is.
Sweat is beginning to bead along Kurt’s forehead, his face screwed up in pleasure and his hips rocking into every stroke from Dave’s hand. Thinking he might come just from watching Kurt if he isn’t careful, Dave reaches over with his other hand, grabbing and uncapping the bottle of lube sitting on top of the bedside table. Kurt whimpers when Dave lets go of his cock in order to spread the lube over his fingers, but the hand on Kurt’s cock is soon back again. And Dave’s other hand, fingers slicked with lube, reaches down between them.
Kurt groans when one of Dave’s slippery fingers begins to rub around his hole, writhing as Dave circles the sensitive skin. Several times, Dave begins to push in- just the tip of a finger - before sliding out again to touch and tease around the outside. Kurt gasps, but doesn’t push down; every little jerk of his body pushes his cock up and down in Dave’s grip. After a few minutes, Kurt throws his head back and whines at the unsatisfactory touch; Dave chuckles, and pushes his index finger fully inside.
“You like that, don’t you?” Dave asks. Kurt’s breath is coming sharp and ragged, and his body is incredibly hot and tight around Dave’s finger. He begins to slide the finger out in a slow, determined rhythm. Kurt cries out in pleasure, and it’s so worth the discomfort of this angle if it gets Kurt to make that face.
After a few minutes Dave adds another finger, and the sound Kurt makes in response is so hot - high and clear and desperate to be fucked - that Dave knows he could get off on that single noise alone. Dave growls, pumping the two fingers hard into Kurt’s body, holding Kurt close as he cries out and gasps at the harsh touch.
If Dave were feeling more patient, he would add another finger; let Kurt adjust more first. But he’s so hard it hurts, and Kurt’s mouth is opened wide with pleasure as Dave fucks him with his fingers. And somewhere inside of himself, Dave is still angry about Jeff. Stupid Jeff, who is a strong singer and a track and field hero and does well in every class. Who is slender and pretty; not rough and big like he is. Who Dave can practically imagine holding Kurt close, and kissing him, and making him come.
Instead, Dave yanks his fingers out of Kurt’s ass hard and fast. Kurt wails at the emptiness, at the lack of touch - but Dave kisses him hard, giving his cock one last stroke before reaching for the lube once more. It only takes a few moments before Dave’s cock is slippery, drenched with lube and precome and twitching to be buried inside Kurt’s tight ass.
“Ride my cock, baby,” says Dave, in a voice far more confident than he feels. Kurt lets out a choked sound before biting his lip, positioning himself - and beginning to slide ever-so-slowly down onto Dave’s cock. He cannot stop himself from letting out a choked moan as that tightness swallows up the tip, so hot and slick and incredible that Dave’s hands fist in the sheets.
In terms of size, Dave knows that he has a large cock; long and thick and heavy. So the sensation of Kurt pushing himself down onto it inch by inch, filling himself up until he’s taken everything inside, makes Dave feel something guttural and possessive twinge deep inside. The feeling of Kurt stretched tight around his cock is so good, Dave can’t imagine anything better.
Until Kurt begins to move.
“Fuck, ” Dave hisses, head falling back against the headboard as Kurt begins to ride his cock in earnest. The slide of it is incredible, Kurt’s ass gripping his cock so perfectly it makes him see stars. Slick and hot, up and down, this beautiful boy fucking himself on Dave’s cock.
“No one else can do this for you,” mutters Dave, reaching down between them to stroke Kurt’s cock. Kurt lets out a choked noise, increasing his speed. “No one else can fill you up like I do, Kurt. No one else can have you.”
A tear slides down Kurt’s cheek, out of place in the moment, and Dave leans forward to kiss it away. Kurt’s getting close, Dave can tell; his chest is flushed, and his legs are beginning to tremble. Dave grips Kurt’s hip with one hand and his cock with the other, slamming up into Kurt’s body as he simultaneously jerks his hand rough and hard over Kurt’s cock. Kurt lets out a broken noise, gasps - and keens, high and beautiful, as he comes in stripes over Dave’s stomach. Dave fucks him through it, Kurt’s body clenching and spasming around his cock in the most perfect way imaginable.
It doesn’t take Dave too long, after that. He grabs Kurt’s hips in both hands and slams up into his body, hard and fast and desperate until he’s coming too. Hips stuttering up as he comes deeps inside Kurt’s ass, coating his insides with slickness and claiming him, for now, and forever, and always.
Dave comes back to himself a few moments later, panting and twitching and gripping Kurt’s hips so hard there will almost certainly be bruises tomorrow. Sweat is pouring down his back, which makes him feel weirdly self-conscious. But Kurt - beautiful, delicate Kurt - is clinging to him sweetly, face buried in Dave’s neck. He allows himself to ride out the very last of the aftershocks, still breathing heavily - and after a few moments, he presses a kiss to Kurt’s throat. Kurt takes the cue, moving so that Dave’s cock slides out. They both inhale sharply at that, and in an instant Kurt is curled into his side with his face buried in Dave’s chest.
“Okay, babe,” laughs Dave, wrapping his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. He’s still out of breath, body still buzzing with his orgasm. “We’ll cuddle for a minute, then get cleaned up and go to bed. Okay?”
Kurt nods into his chest, still not looking up, and Dave squeezes him tight. But looking down and seeing Kurt like that - tiny, and tucked up into him, and holding on tight - makes him remember something. Because Kurt needs to be protected. What he’s about to do isn’t selfish at all; it’s just a precautionary measure to keep Kurt safe.
“Don’t hang out with Jeff more than a few hours a week,” says Dave. “And... tell me if he starts to flirt with you or anything.”
Against him, Kurt becomes so rigid that he is practically vibrating with the effort of remaining still. Dave holds him close, and waits. It’s practically a full minute before Kurt’s body relaxes again, loose and defeated.
“Okay,” whispers Kurt, in a voice that is so much more broken than Dave wants to hear. He pretends that he can’t feel the wetness on his chest, and lets the two of them stay curled up together on the bed for another ten minutes so that Kurt will be dry-eyed when they stand up to prepare for bed.
--
Dave had first found out about Kurt’s... unusual affliction two months after he transferred to Dalton. Two months after he moved into the two-person dorm room and found Kurt’s things already sprawled over the entire room; posters of Vogue covers and pop stars Dave couldn’t name spread across the walls like some sort of virulent plague.
He and his father had knocked on the door, then waited a few moments for a response before unlocking it with the key they’d received from administration and pushing their way inside. Dave hefted a suitcase full of clothes, while Paul hauled his son’s backpack full of new textbooks over one shoulder. Laden down with pieces of Dave’s life, packed up and folded into transportable portions, they had not been met with an empty room.
Instead, there was a slender boy draped out over one of the twin beds. His head of brown hair rested at the bed’s foot, and his feet were propped up on the headboard. The unnamed boy was moving, too. Head rocking back and forth, and after a moment Dave realized he was plugged into an iPod. The tinny beat of the music was just barely audible from the door.
“Um. Hello, there,” Paul had said, clearing his throat awkwardly - to which the boy had gasped, flailed a bit, and grasped at his chest as he spun around to face the door.
“Oh my God,” he spluttered, eyes blown wide - and Dave couldn’t help himself. The sight was so comical, so unexpected - and such a contrast to the rigid formality of this new, intimidating place - that Dave started to laugh. Big, gut-wrenching chuckles bubbling up inside of him until he couldn’t hold them in; until they overflowed and rang into the air, leaving him breathless and gasping and slumping against the edge of the door.
Both the nameless boy and Dave’s father stared in silence. It probably should have been more awkward, if it weren’t so funny. Dave choked as he continued to shake in silent mirth, stomach beginning to grow sore from the strain.
“... you must be Dave’s roommate. It’s so nice to meet you: I’m Paul Karofsky, Dave’s father.”
Apparently, his father’s response to this belated mental breakdown was going to be utter civility. Dave burst into another round of helpless laughter, tears starting to run down his face.
“Kurt Hummel. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
And that put a stop to Dave’s laughter. Because that voice... it wasn’t that it was high, or light, or beautiful, although it was all of those things as well. Kurt’s voice was steeped in bitter acceptance, in embarrassment and extreme discomfort. In that one sentence, Dave could tell that Kurt was mentally resigning himself to spend the rest of the school year living in the same room as someone who considered him a joke.
“Dude,” Dave choked out, pushing himself up from the wall. His dad was looking at him as though he had gone slightly mad. “Dude, I’m sorry. It’s just been the most unbelievably shitty week, you have no idea.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m Dave.”
There was a pause, and then -
“I’m Kurt.” They shook, Kurt’s small hand fitting nicely into Dave’s larger palm. The size difference would have been funny, except that it... wasn’t. It made a little shiver of something Dave couldn’t identify run through him. “I’m new here, too. I just transferred here two days ago; I suppose they wanted all of the new kids to arrive for the new quarter.”
And Dave couldn’t help but stare. Now that he wasn’t gaping like a fish... fuck, Kurt was pretty. Like, full-on china doll kinda pretty. Kurt looked up into his face and smiled and his eyes. Searing blue, and unbelievably gorgeous. Dave broke off the handshake before he could do something crazy embarrassing like keep shaking it forever.
Stop that, Dave mentally chastised himself. This is what got you so much shit in the first place.
Suddenly Kurt flushed bright red, the colour a pleasant contrast to the paleness of his skin.
“Oh, good lord. I’m sorry about all the posters; I’ll try to keep them limited to the area around my desk or something. Or take them down. They just didn’t tell me exactly which day you’d be coming, and posters aren’t even my style, really. But it was a dorm room, and not my room, and I just... went a little bit over-the-top.”
“It’s totally fine,” said Dave, and they stood there and smiled until his dad cleared his throat awkwardly again. The two of them left to go bring up more bags from the car, Dave scrubbing a hand through his hair and his dad giving him that knowing look for the rest of the afternoon.
And really, the strange thing was that he and Kurt got on fairly well.
Logically speaking, they really shouldn’t have. Kurt was high-maintenance and flamboyant, insisting to be a “diva bitch” even as he smiled and made friends and fit in with everyone. And at Dave’s old school, he had definitely been part of the jock crowd. He’d even been mean to a few kids who didn’t deserve it - at least, he had before his extremely public and incredibly humiliating outing.
But despite the odds - or perhaps because of them - he and Kurt made decent roommates. Not that they saw each other very much. They both had heavy academic schedules, and Kurt had joined so many clubs that they sometimes only saw one another right before going to bed. But at the very least, Kurt had felt comfortable enough to tell him about his old school. About being pushed around because he couldn’t hide what he was, didn’t want to hide what he was. About how it had escalated, and Dalton had seemed like the only safe choice. How Kurt’s dad had tried to get him a single room, but they couldn’t afford it.
Dave had nodded, and the occasional commiserative noise, and fell more and more in love with Kurt by the second.
It wasn’t because Dave was... like that, no matter what those fuckwads at his old school had shrieked at him. No matter what they all thought they saw. It was because Kurt was Kurt. Because his roommate was sharp, and funny, and bitingly sarcastic. Because he complained about Dave not keeping the room tidy one day, then left pots of moisturizer spread over every flat surface the next. Because he didn’t ask Dave to elaborate on “I left my old school because people didn’t like that I was different”, never even raised an eyebrow about it. Because he always responded to Dave’s texts with something funny or something mean, or even sometimes something sweet.
It didn’t help that Kurt was achingly, painfully, heart-clenchingly beautiful. Kurt was stunning in a way that made Dave incredibly self-conscious of his bulky, athletic body; made him want to run his hands over Kurt’s slender arms and smooth a palm over that incredibly flat stomach. Made Dave want to kiss him so badly that it hurt, because Dave just wasn’t ready to admit... that... about himself yet, no matter what his cock might tell him.
Kurt was also tremendously odd.
Not because he was gay, or whatever. Even if Dave wasn’t quite ready to admit that about himself just yet, he was definitely over being weirded out by gay kids in general. Kurt was odd because sometimes he responded to completely ordinary situations the strangest ways. Seemingly at random, too, Kurt would pause for great lengths of time with a pained, frustrated expression on his face - before continuing on exactly as usual. But it was probably some sort of weird post-traumatic stress thing, anyways, and Dave decided the best thing to do was ignore the episodes entirely.
At the time, it hadn’t seemed important that a joking “go to sleep, Kurt,” was enough to put him out like a light in the middle of one of their pitch-black, way-past-bedtime conversations. Or that “c’mon, skip class with me” was enough to render Kurt into a great ball of tension and clenching fists until he finally gave in and came with Dave to go slack off somewhere.
For two months, practically all Dave could think about was Kurt Hummel. Where he was, what he was doing, which pencil-thin singer he was off spending time with this time. It was crystal clear that Dave wasn’t Kurt’s type, that Kurt wasn’t interested - but that didn’t stop Dave from falling into the kind of hopeless, pathetic crush that clawed at his brain and forced him to whack off at every available opportunity.
It didn’t even seem important that Dave stopped trying to make other friends, after a while. Or that his grades started to slip from lack of focus, head swimming with blue eyes and a haughty smile instead of logarithms and isotherms.
None of it had really mattered.
At least, not until the day that everything changed.
“Pass me my laptop, Karofsky.”
At Kurt’s words, Dave glanced up from his Advanced Calculus textbook. He looked at Kurt, sprawled out on his bed and surrounded by sheet music, a pencil tucked behind one ear. Then, he looked at the laptop. Which was sitting on Kurt’s desk. Not three feet from him.
“Your laptop’s right there.”
“Mm. So it is.” Kurt didn’t even look up from the piece in front of him, the title of which Dave could read upside down. Silly Love Songs. Dave’s stomach gave an uneasy flip.
“You could literally reach out and get it yourself right now,” added Dave, laughing to cover the way his palms had begun to grow clammy. The way his face had started to flush. Because god, Kurt was gorgeous. Draped over the bed so casually, a few strands of hair beginning to escape from his ever-so-styled hairdo.
Gorgeous and distant. Dethatched. Aloof.
Not yours. Never yours, Karofsky.
“I could,” confirmed Kurt. He pulled the pencil out from behind his ear and made a note on the score.
There was a beat - then Dave let out a frustrated grunt and stood. He crossed the room, deposited Kurt’s laptop beside him on the bed, and practically stomped back to his own desk. Kurt’s only response was a small, vague noise in the back of his throat.
“Oh my God, Hummel,” said Dave, rolling his eyes. “You’re so annoying, I swear.”
“Hmm,” replied Kurt, actually looking up through his lashes to meet Dave’s gaze for the first time in the entire interaction. There was a playful twist to his lips; something almost like affection in his eyes. “Whatever, Karofsky.”
Kurt opened the laptop and started to type. A few moments later, gorgeous blue eyes locked on the screen in front of him, he absently added: “Thanks.”
Dave laughed - genuinely, this time.
“Go fuck yourself, Hummel,” said Dave, trying for ‘snide’ but landing more so on ‘affectionate’. Because Kurt could always make him laugh, even if the joke was at his expense.
Kurt, whose whole body had seized up and was clenching his hands into his sheets. Who looked, somehow, as though he was physically trying to stop himself from doing something. Whose eyes were wide, all of a sudden, and panic-stricken.
“Kurt?” asked Dave, concern starting to grow in his chest. “What’s wrong?”
“I...” choked Kurt, biting down on his lip. He practically looked as though he was in physical pain.
“You feeling okay, man?” Dave could hear the worry in his own voice. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him?
“I...” Kurt trailed again. There was actual sweat beginning to shine on his forehead, and it almost looked as though he was about to feint. “I have to -”
The last few words came out in a rush, and Kurt practically fell over himself in his haste to run into their en-suite bathroom and slam the door shut behind him. Dave blinked at the empty room, pausing for just a moment - before standing and practically running to the bathroom door.
“Kurt,” barked Dave, trying the door handle. It was locked. “Kurt, are you sick or something?” An image of Kurt, tiny body curled up on their bathroom floor, flashed in his mind. Clinging to the toilet and shuddering with helpless retches, eyes stung with tears from the bile. A horrible feeling clenched at Dave’s stomach.
There was a long and horrible pause before Kurt’s voice, sounding strangled and strangely high, drifted from behind the locked door.
“... it’s... f-fuck... it’s nothing.”
“Don’t worry about grossing me out or whatever, man. I’ve seen worse. You should let me inside so I can help.”
“No. Dave, no, please. Just go. Just ignore me. I’m serious, it’s nothing. Just... just go.”
It was possible that there was nothing else Kurt could have said that would have made Dave want to keep trying more badly. Fuck this, he thought. Kurt obviously needed him and just wasn’t going to admit it. Sometimes, Kurt just didn’t know what was best for him.
Dalton dormitories may have been comfortable and nice, but they were also very old. The fixtures just weren’t what the used to be; window panes were loose and let in cold air, floorboards squeaked, and the bathroom lock was fairly easy to force if you knew how. Dave twisted the handle, then gave the door two sharp jolts and felt the old-fashioned hook-and-eye lock give way. He pushed the door open, and saw -
And saw Kurt, sitting on edge of the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub with those ohmygodsotight pants and underwear pooled on the floor below. One leg up on the edge of the tub, and the brightly-coloured container of Kurt’s conditioner uncapped on the floor beside him. Kurt, who looked flushed, and humiliated, and horrified as he slid two long, perfect fingers in and out of his ass.
“F-fuck,” stammered Kurt, face screwed up in shame and refusing to look Dave in the eye. A few strands of brown hair fell across his face, obscuring his eyes. “Dave, this isn’t -”
“God, stop talking,” groaned Dave, and Kurt’s mouth slammed shut. His eyes were shining, blue and gorgeous and heartbreaking and his fingers were still moving. Pushing in and out, slicked up with creamy white conditioner and looking like something right out of one of Dave’s fantasies. “Just... let me touch you, Kurt. Please let me touch you.”
And Kurt didn’t say no. Just kept moving those fingers in and out, in and out. Dave stepped closer, kneeling down in front of the flushed boy and reaching up to cradle the side of his face, to force Kurt to look him in the eye. Kurt looked up and met his gaze with shining eyes full of anguish. Of mortification.
“It’s okay,” murmured Dave, reaching up with his other hand to grip Kurt’s half-hard cock. Kurt whimpered at the touch, but those fingers kept moving. “It’s okay, Kurt. I like you, too. God, I... I like you so much. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
The irony of Dave Karofsky telling someone else that there was no shame in loving another man was quickly shoved down in favour of making Kurt feel good. The sensation of holding another boy’s cock in his hand was surreal, but also so utterly right that it made Dave let out a small, blissful noise in the back of his throat. Kurt’s cock was a bit smaller than his own, and the shape also slightly different in a hundred little ways that Dave could think about all day. It only took a little while before Kurt was fully hard, panting and writhing precariously on the edge of the tub.
The entire time, Kurt held his gaze. His eyes looked pleading, as though silently begging for something. A harder touch, a faster speed, to be filled up with something bigger than his own fingers - Dave couldn’t be certain. All he was sure of was how prettily Kurt’s body twisted and twitched under his ministrations.
Eventually, though, Dave wanted more. Wanted to be insideKurt’s body, to touch him everywhere at once. The hand not on Kurt’s cock reached down and stilled Kurt’s hand.
“Stop,” murmured Dave. “Just... let me.”
Obediently, Kurt shuddered and slid his own fingers out.
Dave took his hand off Kurt’s cock for a few precious seconds to fumble with the bottle of conditioner, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. He then put the bottle back down on the floor. When Dave looked up at Kurt again, he looked... frantic. The sight of him, already spread out and loose for Dave’s fingers, made Dave groan out loud. He waited a few seconds before reaching forward and sliding one of his own fingers inside Kurt’s ass.
Kurt practically keened at the intrusion, tensing up hard. That made sense: Dave’s fingers were so much larger than Kurt’s own. Dave reached up to give Kurt’s flagging erection a few more strokes, continuing to twist his hand in time with his thrusts until Kurt was groaning and gasping once more.
It was an incredibly strange sensation, having one of his fingers inside of someone like this. Although Dave had dated girls, and had gone fairly far with a few of them, he had never done anything like this before. The position of his hand felt awkward and cramped, and the tightness and heat of Kurt’s body around his finger was unbelievable. When he felt he had given Kurt enough time to adjust, he added another finger. Kurt sobbed, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“It’s okay, babe,” Dave muttered nonsensically, his own arousal almost painfully still trapped within his jeans. He increased the speed of his hand on Kurt’s cock, pumping his fingers in time and making sure to twist them in the way that made Kurt shudder. “Feels so good, doesn’t it? You’re so gorgeous, Kurt. So beautiful for me, like this. Taking my fingers so deep. Come for me, Kurt. Just -”
Before Dave could speak another word, Kurt’s mouth flew open in a wordless shout. He came in spurts over Dave’s hand, shuddering and panting. The sight of Kurt tipping over the edge was quite possibly the hottest thing Dave had ever seen in his life. He groaned, stroking Kurt through the orgasm as he would for himself after masturbating, until the last of Kurt’s come was splattered over Dave’s hand. After a few moments had passed, he slowly and carefully pulled his fingers out. Kurt whined quietly, looking shell-shocked.
Without waiting for Kurt to speak, Dave leaned up and kissed Kurt on the lips. And oh, god, it was perfect. Better than kissing a girl had ever been. Kurt’s come was all over his hand, cooling rapidly, and his knees ached from staying kneeling on the ground for so long. But it was perfect. So perfect. Kurt was perfect.
“So good, babe,” murmured Dave, voice strained from arousal. He was close; too close to wait. Not caring about getting his jeans dirty, Dave reached down with his come-splattered hand and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out. He reached down and began to frantically stroke himself, smearing Kurt’s come all over his cock. Making it slick, making his hand fly over it impossibly quickly. “Fuck yeah, Kurt, so good -”
It took an embarrassingly short amount of time before Dave was coming over his own hand, shaking and clenching as pleasure gripped his body. He gasped, looking down in time to see himself coming over his already come-slicked hand. The sight made him shudder in a pleasure so intense it was almost like coming again.
“God, Kurt,” Dave gasped, shuddering through the aftershocks. Mind cleared from his desperate need to orgasm, the pain in his knees and legs was too strong to ignore any longer. He stood up shakily, grabbing a wad of toilet paper from the dispenser to clean off the worst of his hand and own cock before tucking it back into his jeans. He disposed of it, then grabbed some fresh tissue to clean off Kurt. It should have felt strange - wrong, even - touching another boy’s cock without the frenzy of want to make it acceptable. It didn’t, though. Cleaning Kurt up felt... nice. Important.
Dave was so distracted from this revelation that it took him far longer than it should have to look up into Kurt’s face.
Tears were streaming down Kurt’s face, catching in his lashes and making his cheeks shine. Despite the tears, he remained absolutely silent. Kurt’s lips were trembling, and he almost looked as though he was going to be sick. His expression was one of absolute anguish.
“Babe. Baby, what’s wrong?”
Kurt shook his head violently, making his hair fly even more out of place. He looked right into Dave’s eyes, and opened his mouth as if to speak - but no sound came out. He made a desperate, frantic noise at this, starting to shake so hard Dave could see the tremors wrack his body. Starting to breathe too hard, too fast while he scrambled to get his clothes back on again.
What the hell is this?
“Kurt, you’re freaking me out. Why aren’t you...?” Dave trailed off, and Kurt turned and fixed him with a devastated expression as he buttoned his fly with shaking fingers. Kurt opened his mouth as if to speak again, but once more no words came.
In some deep part of Dave’s mind, something clicked. A realization, an amassing of facts. Stringing together dozens of little red flags he should have caught before.
“You can talk,” Dave intoned, and the floodgates opened.
“Oh god oh god oh god,” choked Kurt, twisting his hands up in his clothes and shaking. “I couldn’t... I didn’t want... fuck, Dave, I don’t...” He trailed off into sobs, and the sounds Kurt made while crying were so much worse than the silence had been.
Dave wrapped a broad arm around Kurt’s small shoulders and led him out of the bathroom to Dave’s own bed, gently guiding him down into a sitting position. Kurt let himself be led, and Dave sat down next to him with his arm still squeezed tight around the shaking boy. Murmured comforting noises while suspicion grew, hot and horrible, in Dave’s mind. A few minutes passed before Kurt managed to control himself and get his breathing down to almost-normal levels.
Practically feeling dethatched from his own body, Dave decided to test his unbelievable, impossible theory. “Tell me what’s wrong, Kurt,” he said, giving Kurt’s shoulders a squeeze and being careful of his wording. And after the briefest of moments, Kurt began to speak; a torrent of words that came out in a rush.
It all came out. The curse that had been placed on an ancestor in his mother’s family hundreds of years ago and had never been broken, had never been resolved, and now rarely manifested in that family like a genetic disease. Dave listened, shocked. Echoes of the ancient magic were incredibly rare. Its practitioners had long since been wiped out for the danger they posed, and their art lost to the world. Something like this, that defied time and space to re-assert itself again and again must have been incredibly powerful. And incredibly horrible.
“It’s been like this since I was born, Dave: I have to do what people tell me to.” Kurt’s words were choked, but certain. Unwavering. “I can’t say no, and I can’t stop. It hurts if I try, so much, and I can never hold out very long before I... before I give in. It’s... it’s not a stupid compulsion, or a personality thing. I can’t say no. And... and I hate it. I hate it so much, and no one knows. Just my family, no one else, it’s safer that way. Dave... I know that you didn’t know.”
“What just happened... it happened because I told you to.” Dave could hear the dullness in his own voice. The devastation.
Kurt hesitated. Then he shifted uncomfortably and said, “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”
And the words were like a physical blow to Dave’s chest. Everything he had ever wanted was collapsing around him, falling apart into rubble and dust and emptiness. Being wrenched away from him, stolen. Because he’d had Kurt. He had touched him, and exposed himself for what he was, and really believed that it was the beginning of something so special and wonderful and his.
It doesn’t have to be over, said a little voice in the back of his head. You can make him. Take him. Keep him close, and take care of him, and keep him safe and happy and yours.
“Dave,” said Kurt uneasily, turning out of Dave’s grasp to look at him with worried eyes. “I like you a lot. You know that.”
No one ever has to know. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Are you going to let him take that away from you?
“But... but I just don’t feel that way about -”
“What if I ordered you to kiss me?” Dave looked straight ahead as the words left him, calm and measured. Kurt jerked away, a look of horror stealing onto his face.
“Shut up,” he hissed. “Shut up, don’t say that.”
“But I could. I could... I could tell you to kiss me, or love me, or -”
“Don’t you dare.” There was real fear in Kurt’s eyes, panic starting to bloom in his expression. “Dave, please. Don’t do this. This... this isn’t what you want. It isn’t what I -”
“Be with me,” said Dave, and the words came out strong and sure. He squashed the increasingly nauseated feeling in his stomach, the guilt growing in his mind. This was best for both of them, in the end. He could make Kurt so happy, if Kurt would just give him the chance. “Stay here at Dalton with me. Be mine. Don’t tell anyone, and don’t leave, and... and be mine.”
“Fuck you, Karofsky,” spat Kurt, face twisted up in pain and eyes brimming with betrayal. “Fuck you, I’m going to kill you -”
“Don’t hurt me. And don’t hurt yourself,” added Dave as an afterthought, leaning in to run a hand through Kurt’s hair. Kurt looked furiously at him through tear-filled eyes, flinching away from the touch. But he did not run. Did not scream, or fight, or kick. And that... god, that was intoxicating.
I can still have this. Can still have him.
He’ll be happy for it, in the end.
“Just let me have you,” whispered Dave, leaning so that their foreheads are pressed together. Still sitting next to one another on the bed, holding Kurt close - and not going to let him go. Never going to let him go.
Kurt’s whole body coiled up like a spring, tensing and clenching; Dave realized that this must be what Kurt fighting looked like. He held Kurt close through it, murmuring nonsense words and stroking his hair. Dave held him through it. Held Kurt as his face flushed and his eyes squeezed shut as he resisted, and fought, and tried so hard -
Until eventually, he stopped. Looked up at Dave with defeat and devastation in his eyes. And something else - something so foreign to the brave, haughty Kurt that Dave was hardly able to recognize it. Fear.
“I love you, Kurt,” said Dave at last. “And don’t be scared. Just... kiss me.”
Two months after Dave Karofsky met Kurt Hummel, Kurt leaned in with his eyes clamped shut and kissed Dave for the second time. Dave had closed his own eyes, held Kurt close, and pretended it was real.
--
Tonight, less than an hour after forbidding Kurt from seeing Jeff anymore, Dave holds Kurt’s sleeping body close against his chest as they lie in bed. He looks down at that beautiful face, peaceful like this only in slumber, and keeps on pretending.
“Chapter Two: Kurt”
Author: emilianadarling
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: non-con/dub-con Kurt/Karofsky, Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Vaguely explained magic, non-con, dub-con, awful situations, manipulation, self-deluding, crack prompt gone serious.
Length: 8,500 for this chapter.
Spoilers: This is an AU, so not really.
Story Summary: Kurt’s been in a secret relationship with his roommate at Dalton for months. That would be fine... if he wanted any of it. If he could say no, and if Dave would listen. If he were with Blaine, his wonderful friend from the school’s glee club, instead.
Prompt: Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme. Kurt has to follow orders. Karofsky takes advantage. Blaine just wants to make everything all right again.
Notes: I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry. I blame the kinkmeme for putting ideas in my head.
There is now podfic for this story.
By the time Dave finishes off the last body paragraph of his essay, the small white numbers in the bottom corner of his screen inform him that it is well past midnight.
Dave blinks, hard, and reaches up a hand to massage the bridge of his nose. After several hours spent staring at the dim glow of his laptop screen, his eyes feel heavy and sore. His whole body aches slightly, as well, from being scrunched up into his desk chair for so many hours. Already having loosened his tie and draped his blazer over the back of his chair, Dave rolls up the sleeves of his long white button-up. He glances at the clock again and frowns, turning to survey the emptiness of the room behind him.
Other than the brightness of the laptop screen, the glow of his desk lamp is the room’s only source of light. Its dimness leaves the small but comfortable dorm edged in shadow, but everything is still visible. His own solid desk. Another desk across the room, identical but for its tidiness. The two twin beds, both draped in maroon sheets and edged by handsome bed frames in a dark wood. Dave’s bed is made but messy, the top corner of blankets tossed back in preparation for sleep. The other bed has been made with extreme attention to detail; ever sheet corner and edge tucked carefully beneath the mattress.
Dave lets out a sigh and turns back to his paper, mentally preparing himself to tackle its concluding paragraph. Having an essay due tomorrow afternoon is stressful, of course, and Literature has never been his favourite subject. Simultaneously, however, it feels... nice. Exciting, almost, to be able to work hard at school without having to fake apathy.
At his old high school, trying to do well in any class had practically been social suicide. Dave had been forced into an intense balancing act to maintain his average for his parents without letting on to his friends that he gave a shit. Since transferring to Dalton, however, doing well was encouraged. Hell, almost all of the popular guys in school performed well academically - and most even participated in after-hours clubs. It was absurdly liberating.
As much as Dave had been against transferring initially, in the end it had been the right decision. He can show off his intelligence and not be shamed, which is incredible. But also... also, no one knows about that here. Dave is aware, intellectually, that no one at Dalton would hate him for being the way he is. Regardless, having the option of not letting anyone know is even better.
Plus, there is Kurt.
Something complicated and dark twists in the bottom of Dave’s stomach, but he pushes the feeling down. Because he has Kurt, and that’s all that matters. The fact that he can hold Kurt close, and kiss him on the lips, and make him feel good... that is so much more important than anything else.
And Dave knows, deep down, that Kurt loves him too.
Comforted, he begins to work on revising his conclusion. He is in the process of attempting to determine the best way to rephrase his thesis statement for the umpteenth time when the door to their dorm creaks ever-so-slowly open. Dave looks up just in time to see Kurt standing in the doorframe, frozen in place with his eyes wide open. He looks very much like a deer caught in the headlights.
“You’re still up,” Kurt says, voice stilted, and God is he ever gorgeous. All delicate bones and ramrod-straight posture, and the blazer sleeve on his outstretched arm is pulled up just enough to reveal one of his delicate wrists. The skin there is pale against the navy fabric. His hair understated but classy, and his eyes so blue it practically hurts.
“Lord of the Flies paper is due for Lit by tomorrow afternoon,” says Dave by way of explanation. That particular blazer is too big on Kurt, and the way it hangs over the other boy’s small frame makes affection swell up strong in Dave’s chest. “I was wondering where you were; curfew was ages ago.” Dave smiles warmly. “Now... close the door and come here.”
Kurt stiffens, freezing in place and gripping the doorknob so hard that his hand shakes. This happens, sometimes, and Dave knows well enough to wait it out. He isn’t even able to count to five in his head before Kurt lets go, and within the space of a few seconds the dorm room door is closed and Kurt is standing right in front of him, close enough to touch.
And Dave isn’t going to ignore an invitation like that. He reaches out a strong arm and wraps it around Kurt’s waist, tugging Kurt gently onto his lap. The wheeled chair squeaks softly under the added weight, and Dave wraps his arms around Kurt’s small waist and buries his nose in Kurt’s hair. It smells like product, and expensive shampoo, and underlying it all the smell of Kurt. It makes Dave shiver.
“Hey, babe,” whispers Dave, squeezing Kurt around the middle. Annoyingly, Kurt is rigid and stiff in his arms. “Relax,” Dave adds, and the tension leaves Kurt’s body at once. The sensation of Kurt relaxing into Dave’s hold is so good that all Dave can do for a moment is close his eyes and breathe.
Kurt feels so delicate, so defenceless like this.
So mine.
After taking a few moments to recover, Dave leans forward and presses a kiss to Kurt’s pale neck. “How was your day?”
“Mmm,” responds Kurt noncommittally, in a small voice. Dave nips Kurt’s neck gently in chastisement, and Kurt sighs and continues. “It was okay. History wasn’t too bad, and French was actually kinda fun. I have two midterms next week, though, so that’s not exciting.”
“Which classes?”
“French and Chemistry.”
“Mmm.” Dave leans in and presses a kiss to the place where Kurt’s jaw meets his neck, and Kurt shivers in his arms. Encouraged, Dave continues to kiss along the pale skin of Kurt’s neck, his jaw, the shell of his ear. “You’ll do great, babe. You’re practically fluent in French anyways.” Unconsciously, he begins to rub Kurt’s flat stomach; the thick material of the Dalton blazer is rough under his hand. “So smart, Kurt. So beautiful.”
“Dave...”
Dave can feel Kurt beginning to tense in his arms. All at once, he wants to see Kurt’s face more than anything in the world. He presses one last kiss to Kurt’s throat.
“Turn around,” instructs Dave, voice full of warmth, and Kurt hesitates for a long moment before twisting around on top of him, moving so that he is facing Dave while straddling his lap. Dave can feel Kurt’s breath just barely tickling his nose, they’re so close together.
This new position also affords Dave a great view of Kurt’s face, which is... exquisite. Soft, full lips and a completely adorable nose. Eyebrows immaculately shaped, and those eyes. Strikingly blue and stunning, framed by thick dark lashes. Everything about Kurt’s face is perfect.
Except for his expression. His beautiful face is pulled into a look that Dave doesn’t like to see. It’s... tired. Wary. And if Dave looks hard enough, and for long enough, he can even see the resignation there. He doesn’t want to see that, hates seeing Kurt look at him that way. So Dave pulls Kurt down and kisses him on the mouth.
The kiss sends heat straight to Dave’s cock, even if Kurt’s lips stay unmoving and hard beneath his own at first.
“Kiss me back,” murmurs Dave against Kurt’s lips, and suddenly Kurt is right there. Dave lets out a groan as Kurt opens his mouth to him, letting Dave’s tongue push into the warm sweetness of his mouth. Kurt lets out a small, breathy noise as their mouths move together. Dave’s hands spread wide in the small of Kurt’s back, keeping him close. Kurt’s thigh brushes Dave’s erection, hot and hard in his pants, and the tiny hint of sensation makes Dave inhale sharply and hold him tighter.
When Dave finally lets Kurt pull away, Kurt is breathing heavily and there is a faint flush growing in his cheeks. His eyebrows are pulled together in a worried expression.
“Dave -” Kurt tries again, but Dave gets there first.
“Tell me where you were.”
The words leave Kurt’s mouth before he can even attempt to contain them:
“I was studying with Jeff for our French midterm in his room,” says Kurt, before clamping his lips together and looking upset with himself. Dave raises an eyebrow.
“You that worried about French?” He’s trying to keep his voice even. Of course Kurt can study with whomever he likes. Of course he can.
Except... knowing his boyfriend’s spent the evening alone with a boy Dave knows to be fairly handsome and terribly charismatic makes Dave feel... anxious. Self-conscious. Vaguely upset, even.
“It’s not that,” Kurt rushes, eyes blown wide, and Dave pulls him into another kiss. This time, though, Kurt responds without having to be told. He presses himself right up close to Dave’s body, long arms wrapping around Dave’s neck as he kisses Dave enthusiastically. Lets Dave bite down softly on his bottom lip, lets Dave slide his hands down and cup Kurt’s pert ass.
It is times like this where Dave knows - truly and completely - that Kurt loves him. He does. He must. He just has to be reminded every once and a while, and Dave can live with that.
Kurt presses one last kiss against Dave’s lips, warm and soft, and pulls away.
“It’s not that,” Kurt says again, and his words are tentative. Careful. “It’s just... Dave, we spend a lot of time together. And... it’s nice. Being able to study with a friend.”
And that, of course, makes Dave’s frustration crumble. Because he knows that Kurt hadn’t had any friends at all at his last school, had faced off threats and violence and abuse from his peers every single day just for being who he was. He hadn’t been able to hide, like Dave had, behind sports and bravado and bluster. And of course he enjoyed being in a place where people loved him, and cherished him, and wanted to spend time with him.
“C’mere,” murmurs Dave, before getting a firm grip on Kurt’s waist and standing up without any other warning. Kurt gasps, wrapping his legs around Dave’s middle and clinging to him as Dave walks them across the room to his already messy bed. Kurt barely weighs anything at all, really, and it’s easy enough. Dave is already lying Kurt down on his bed before he realizes that Kurt is speaking.
“Dave. Dave, just... it’s late. I’m pretty tired.”
Dave leans forward and kisses Kurt on the forehead. “We won’t take long, babe, I promise.” Kurt’s a wonderful student, but he does need to learn to lighten up a little bit. Staying up another half hour won’t make a huge difference in class tomorrow, at this point.
“And... don’t you have a paper due tomorrow?” Kurt pushes himself into a sitting position against the pillows, looking anxious.
Warmth blossoms in Dave’s chest as Kurt’s concern. “It’s almost done, don’t worry. I can finish up the last little bit and print it in the morning.” He leans forward and brushes his thumb against the soft skin of Kurt’s cheek. “Now, stop worrying and get naked.”
Kurt goes rigid on the bed, and Dave stands up to begin removing his own clothes. Dave is only half-way through unbuttoning his own shirt, though, when Kurt gives in. Long, delicate fingers reach down and begin to remove the formal Dalton blazer - and Dave’s own hands still, completely hypnotized by the sight of watching Kurt undress.
No matter how many times Dave sees this, it’s always like watching a present just for him get slowly unwrapped. Kurt strips off his blazer, loosens the tie and slides it up over his head. When Kurt begins to unbutton his own white button-up, Dave can’t help but let out a small desperate noise of pleasure as more and more of Kurt’s pale chest comes into view. And when that, too, falls aside... the tightness between Dave’s legs grows almost unbearable.
Having so much of that pale skin on display is intoxicating, and so too is the way Kurt’s chest tapers into that tiny waist. He’s so delicate; all small and thin and shoulders so very defined, and the soft pink of his nipples stands out sharply against the unbelievable paleness of his skin. Kurt doesn’t look him in the eye when, naked from the waist up, he reaches down and unbuttons the fly of his slacks. The drag of Kurt’s zipper is almost obscene in the silence. And then, still looking away, Kurt raises his hips in the air and begins to slide his pants off.
“Fuck, ” hisses Dave, frantically starting to claw at his own clothes again as he watches Kurt pull of the pants, his socks, his underwear. Until they are both naked in front of one another in the quiet room.
And then Dave cannot hold himself back anymore. Cannot stop himself from clambering onto the bed with Kurt, from getting into a sitting position and pulling Kurt on top of him. Dave digs a hand into Kurt’s hair and drags him close, kissing him hard and deep.
“You’re so hot, Kurt,” Dave says in between kisses. “God, you’re so perfect.”
He reaches down and grips Kurt’s ass, rolling his hips up - but when their cocks rub together, Dave realizes that Kurt is only half-hard.
Dave wants to make Kurt feel good. Wants to make this gorgeous boy tremble and gasp with pleasure under his hands. To lose control, to not hold back anymore. He wants Kurt to let Dave do whatever he likes to him, to make Kurt take it and take it until he can’t stand it.
“It’s okay,” murmurs Dave, stroking a comforting hand through Kurt’s hair. “It’s okay, babe. Don’t hold back; just enjoy.” He leans forward and kisses Kurt just in time to capture the whimper that escapes his lips, and when he rolls his hips up again he finds Kurt hard and wanting.
The slide of their erections against each other - Dave’s large and thick, Kurt’s slender and rosy - feels incredible, and Dave groans at the sensation. The grind together, and Dave can’t help but notice how Kurt rubs back against him, how he whines for more. After a while, Dave reaches up and takes Kurt’s cock in hand.
“Ah!” Kurt cries out, hands flying up to cover his face. As though it’s too much for Dave to see him like this, crazed with pleasure and desperate to be touched. Dave continues to stroke, Kurt’s cock warm and hard in his hand.
“Let me see you, Kurt,” says Dave, brushing his thumb over the tip. Kurt gasps, but lowers his shaking hands obediently to rest on Dave’s shoulders. The obstruction gone, Dave can just look into Kurt’s face and enjoy. Because Kurt feels everything so strongly, reacts to every touch and stroke and squeeze, and his beautifully expressive face displays every glorious second of it.
It’s unreal, how beautiful he is.
Sweat is beginning to bead along Kurt’s forehead, his face screwed up in pleasure and his hips rocking into every stroke from Dave’s hand. Thinking he might come just from watching Kurt if he isn’t careful, Dave reaches over with his other hand, grabbing and uncapping the bottle of lube sitting on top of the bedside table. Kurt whimpers when Dave lets go of his cock in order to spread the lube over his fingers, but the hand on Kurt’s cock is soon back again. And Dave’s other hand, fingers slicked with lube, reaches down between them.
Kurt groans when one of Dave’s slippery fingers begins to rub around his hole, writhing as Dave circles the sensitive skin. Several times, Dave begins to push in- just the tip of a finger - before sliding out again to touch and tease around the outside. Kurt gasps, but doesn’t push down; every little jerk of his body pushes his cock up and down in Dave’s grip. After a few minutes, Kurt throws his head back and whines at the unsatisfactory touch; Dave chuckles, and pushes his index finger fully inside.
“You like that, don’t you?” Dave asks. Kurt’s breath is coming sharp and ragged, and his body is incredibly hot and tight around Dave’s finger. He begins to slide the finger out in a slow, determined rhythm. Kurt cries out in pleasure, and it’s so worth the discomfort of this angle if it gets Kurt to make that face.
After a few minutes Dave adds another finger, and the sound Kurt makes in response is so hot - high and clear and desperate to be fucked - that Dave knows he could get off on that single noise alone. Dave growls, pumping the two fingers hard into Kurt’s body, holding Kurt close as he cries out and gasps at the harsh touch.
If Dave were feeling more patient, he would add another finger; let Kurt adjust more first. But he’s so hard it hurts, and Kurt’s mouth is opened wide with pleasure as Dave fucks him with his fingers. And somewhere inside of himself, Dave is still angry about Jeff. Stupid Jeff, who is a strong singer and a track and field hero and does well in every class. Who is slender and pretty; not rough and big like he is. Who Dave can practically imagine holding Kurt close, and kissing him, and making him come.
Instead, Dave yanks his fingers out of Kurt’s ass hard and fast. Kurt wails at the emptiness, at the lack of touch - but Dave kisses him hard, giving his cock one last stroke before reaching for the lube once more. It only takes a few moments before Dave’s cock is slippery, drenched with lube and precome and twitching to be buried inside Kurt’s tight ass.
“Ride my cock, baby,” says Dave, in a voice far more confident than he feels. Kurt lets out a choked sound before biting his lip, positioning himself - and beginning to slide ever-so-slowly down onto Dave’s cock. He cannot stop himself from letting out a choked moan as that tightness swallows up the tip, so hot and slick and incredible that Dave’s hands fist in the sheets.
In terms of size, Dave knows that he has a large cock; long and thick and heavy. So the sensation of Kurt pushing himself down onto it inch by inch, filling himself up until he’s taken everything inside, makes Dave feel something guttural and possessive twinge deep inside. The feeling of Kurt stretched tight around his cock is so good, Dave can’t imagine anything better.
Until Kurt begins to move.
“Fuck, ” Dave hisses, head falling back against the headboard as Kurt begins to ride his cock in earnest. The slide of it is incredible, Kurt’s ass gripping his cock so perfectly it makes him see stars. Slick and hot, up and down, this beautiful boy fucking himself on Dave’s cock.
“No one else can do this for you,” mutters Dave, reaching down between them to stroke Kurt’s cock. Kurt lets out a choked noise, increasing his speed. “No one else can fill you up like I do, Kurt. No one else can have you.”
A tear slides down Kurt’s cheek, out of place in the moment, and Dave leans forward to kiss it away. Kurt’s getting close, Dave can tell; his chest is flushed, and his legs are beginning to tremble. Dave grips Kurt’s hip with one hand and his cock with the other, slamming up into Kurt’s body as he simultaneously jerks his hand rough and hard over Kurt’s cock. Kurt lets out a broken noise, gasps - and keens, high and beautiful, as he comes in stripes over Dave’s stomach. Dave fucks him through it, Kurt’s body clenching and spasming around his cock in the most perfect way imaginable.
It doesn’t take Dave too long, after that. He grabs Kurt’s hips in both hands and slams up into his body, hard and fast and desperate until he’s coming too. Hips stuttering up as he comes deeps inside Kurt’s ass, coating his insides with slickness and claiming him, for now, and forever, and always.
Dave comes back to himself a few moments later, panting and twitching and gripping Kurt’s hips so hard there will almost certainly be bruises tomorrow. Sweat is pouring down his back, which makes him feel weirdly self-conscious. But Kurt - beautiful, delicate Kurt - is clinging to him sweetly, face buried in Dave’s neck. He allows himself to ride out the very last of the aftershocks, still breathing heavily - and after a few moments, he presses a kiss to Kurt’s throat. Kurt takes the cue, moving so that Dave’s cock slides out. They both inhale sharply at that, and in an instant Kurt is curled into his side with his face buried in Dave’s chest.
“Okay, babe,” laughs Dave, wrapping his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. He’s still out of breath, body still buzzing with his orgasm. “We’ll cuddle for a minute, then get cleaned up and go to bed. Okay?”
Kurt nods into his chest, still not looking up, and Dave squeezes him tight. But looking down and seeing Kurt like that - tiny, and tucked up into him, and holding on tight - makes him remember something. Because Kurt needs to be protected. What he’s about to do isn’t selfish at all; it’s just a precautionary measure to keep Kurt safe.
“Don’t hang out with Jeff more than a few hours a week,” says Dave. “And... tell me if he starts to flirt with you or anything.”
Against him, Kurt becomes so rigid that he is practically vibrating with the effort of remaining still. Dave holds him close, and waits. It’s practically a full minute before Kurt’s body relaxes again, loose and defeated.
“Okay,” whispers Kurt, in a voice that is so much more broken than Dave wants to hear. He pretends that he can’t feel the wetness on his chest, and lets the two of them stay curled up together on the bed for another ten minutes so that Kurt will be dry-eyed when they stand up to prepare for bed.
--
Dave had first found out about Kurt’s... unusual affliction two months after he transferred to Dalton. Two months after he moved into the two-person dorm room and found Kurt’s things already sprawled over the entire room; posters of Vogue covers and pop stars Dave couldn’t name spread across the walls like some sort of virulent plague.
He and his father had knocked on the door, then waited a few moments for a response before unlocking it with the key they’d received from administration and pushing their way inside. Dave hefted a suitcase full of clothes, while Paul hauled his son’s backpack full of new textbooks over one shoulder. Laden down with pieces of Dave’s life, packed up and folded into transportable portions, they had not been met with an empty room.
Instead, there was a slender boy draped out over one of the twin beds. His head of brown hair rested at the bed’s foot, and his feet were propped up on the headboard. The unnamed boy was moving, too. Head rocking back and forth, and after a moment Dave realized he was plugged into an iPod. The tinny beat of the music was just barely audible from the door.
“Um. Hello, there,” Paul had said, clearing his throat awkwardly - to which the boy had gasped, flailed a bit, and grasped at his chest as he spun around to face the door.
“Oh my God,” he spluttered, eyes blown wide - and Dave couldn’t help himself. The sight was so comical, so unexpected - and such a contrast to the rigid formality of this new, intimidating place - that Dave started to laugh. Big, gut-wrenching chuckles bubbling up inside of him until he couldn’t hold them in; until they overflowed and rang into the air, leaving him breathless and gasping and slumping against the edge of the door.
Both the nameless boy and Dave’s father stared in silence. It probably should have been more awkward, if it weren’t so funny. Dave choked as he continued to shake in silent mirth, stomach beginning to grow sore from the strain.
“... you must be Dave’s roommate. It’s so nice to meet you: I’m Paul Karofsky, Dave’s father.”
Apparently, his father’s response to this belated mental breakdown was going to be utter civility. Dave burst into another round of helpless laughter, tears starting to run down his face.
“Kurt Hummel. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
And that put a stop to Dave’s laughter. Because that voice... it wasn’t that it was high, or light, or beautiful, although it was all of those things as well. Kurt’s voice was steeped in bitter acceptance, in embarrassment and extreme discomfort. In that one sentence, Dave could tell that Kurt was mentally resigning himself to spend the rest of the school year living in the same room as someone who considered him a joke.
“Dude,” Dave choked out, pushing himself up from the wall. His dad was looking at him as though he had gone slightly mad. “Dude, I’m sorry. It’s just been the most unbelievably shitty week, you have no idea.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m Dave.”
There was a pause, and then -
“I’m Kurt.” They shook, Kurt’s small hand fitting nicely into Dave’s larger palm. The size difference would have been funny, except that it... wasn’t. It made a little shiver of something Dave couldn’t identify run through him. “I’m new here, too. I just transferred here two days ago; I suppose they wanted all of the new kids to arrive for the new quarter.”
And Dave couldn’t help but stare. Now that he wasn’t gaping like a fish... fuck, Kurt was pretty. Like, full-on china doll kinda pretty. Kurt looked up into his face and smiled and his eyes. Searing blue, and unbelievably gorgeous. Dave broke off the handshake before he could do something crazy embarrassing like keep shaking it forever.
Stop that, Dave mentally chastised himself. This is what got you so much shit in the first place.
Suddenly Kurt flushed bright red, the colour a pleasant contrast to the paleness of his skin.
“Oh, good lord. I’m sorry about all the posters; I’ll try to keep them limited to the area around my desk or something. Or take them down. They just didn’t tell me exactly which day you’d be coming, and posters aren’t even my style, really. But it was a dorm room, and not my room, and I just... went a little bit over-the-top.”
“It’s totally fine,” said Dave, and they stood there and smiled until his dad cleared his throat awkwardly again. The two of them left to go bring up more bags from the car, Dave scrubbing a hand through his hair and his dad giving him that knowing look for the rest of the afternoon.
And really, the strange thing was that he and Kurt got on fairly well.
Logically speaking, they really shouldn’t have. Kurt was high-maintenance and flamboyant, insisting to be a “diva bitch” even as he smiled and made friends and fit in with everyone. And at Dave’s old school, he had definitely been part of the jock crowd. He’d even been mean to a few kids who didn’t deserve it - at least, he had before his extremely public and incredibly humiliating outing.
But despite the odds - or perhaps because of them - he and Kurt made decent roommates. Not that they saw each other very much. They both had heavy academic schedules, and Kurt had joined so many clubs that they sometimes only saw one another right before going to bed. But at the very least, Kurt had felt comfortable enough to tell him about his old school. About being pushed around because he couldn’t hide what he was, didn’t want to hide what he was. About how it had escalated, and Dalton had seemed like the only safe choice. How Kurt’s dad had tried to get him a single room, but they couldn’t afford it.
Dave had nodded, and the occasional commiserative noise, and fell more and more in love with Kurt by the second.
It wasn’t because Dave was... like that, no matter what those fuckwads at his old school had shrieked at him. No matter what they all thought they saw. It was because Kurt was Kurt. Because his roommate was sharp, and funny, and bitingly sarcastic. Because he complained about Dave not keeping the room tidy one day, then left pots of moisturizer spread over every flat surface the next. Because he didn’t ask Dave to elaborate on “I left my old school because people didn’t like that I was different”, never even raised an eyebrow about it. Because he always responded to Dave’s texts with something funny or something mean, or even sometimes something sweet.
It didn’t help that Kurt was achingly, painfully, heart-clenchingly beautiful. Kurt was stunning in a way that made Dave incredibly self-conscious of his bulky, athletic body; made him want to run his hands over Kurt’s slender arms and smooth a palm over that incredibly flat stomach. Made Dave want to kiss him so badly that it hurt, because Dave just wasn’t ready to admit... that... about himself yet, no matter what his cock might tell him.
Kurt was also tremendously odd.
Not because he was gay, or whatever. Even if Dave wasn’t quite ready to admit that about himself just yet, he was definitely over being weirded out by gay kids in general. Kurt was odd because sometimes he responded to completely ordinary situations the strangest ways. Seemingly at random, too, Kurt would pause for great lengths of time with a pained, frustrated expression on his face - before continuing on exactly as usual. But it was probably some sort of weird post-traumatic stress thing, anyways, and Dave decided the best thing to do was ignore the episodes entirely.
At the time, it hadn’t seemed important that a joking “go to sleep, Kurt,” was enough to put him out like a light in the middle of one of their pitch-black, way-past-bedtime conversations. Or that “c’mon, skip class with me” was enough to render Kurt into a great ball of tension and clenching fists until he finally gave in and came with Dave to go slack off somewhere.
For two months, practically all Dave could think about was Kurt Hummel. Where he was, what he was doing, which pencil-thin singer he was off spending time with this time. It was crystal clear that Dave wasn’t Kurt’s type, that Kurt wasn’t interested - but that didn’t stop Dave from falling into the kind of hopeless, pathetic crush that clawed at his brain and forced him to whack off at every available opportunity.
It didn’t even seem important that Dave stopped trying to make other friends, after a while. Or that his grades started to slip from lack of focus, head swimming with blue eyes and a haughty smile instead of logarithms and isotherms.
None of it had really mattered.
At least, not until the day that everything changed.
“Pass me my laptop, Karofsky.”
At Kurt’s words, Dave glanced up from his Advanced Calculus textbook. He looked at Kurt, sprawled out on his bed and surrounded by sheet music, a pencil tucked behind one ear. Then, he looked at the laptop. Which was sitting on Kurt’s desk. Not three feet from him.
“Your laptop’s right there.”
“Mm. So it is.” Kurt didn’t even look up from the piece in front of him, the title of which Dave could read upside down. Silly Love Songs. Dave’s stomach gave an uneasy flip.
“You could literally reach out and get it yourself right now,” added Dave, laughing to cover the way his palms had begun to grow clammy. The way his face had started to flush. Because god, Kurt was gorgeous. Draped over the bed so casually, a few strands of hair beginning to escape from his ever-so-styled hairdo.
Gorgeous and distant. Dethatched. Aloof.
Not yours. Never yours, Karofsky.
“I could,” confirmed Kurt. He pulled the pencil out from behind his ear and made a note on the score.
There was a beat - then Dave let out a frustrated grunt and stood. He crossed the room, deposited Kurt’s laptop beside him on the bed, and practically stomped back to his own desk. Kurt’s only response was a small, vague noise in the back of his throat.
“Oh my God, Hummel,” said Dave, rolling his eyes. “You’re so annoying, I swear.”
“Hmm,” replied Kurt, actually looking up through his lashes to meet Dave’s gaze for the first time in the entire interaction. There was a playful twist to his lips; something almost like affection in his eyes. “Whatever, Karofsky.”
Kurt opened the laptop and started to type. A few moments later, gorgeous blue eyes locked on the screen in front of him, he absently added: “Thanks.”
Dave laughed - genuinely, this time.
“Go fuck yourself, Hummel,” said Dave, trying for ‘snide’ but landing more so on ‘affectionate’. Because Kurt could always make him laugh, even if the joke was at his expense.
Kurt, whose whole body had seized up and was clenching his hands into his sheets. Who looked, somehow, as though he was physically trying to stop himself from doing something. Whose eyes were wide, all of a sudden, and panic-stricken.
“Kurt?” asked Dave, concern starting to grow in his chest. “What’s wrong?”
“I...” choked Kurt, biting down on his lip. He practically looked as though he was in physical pain.
“You feeling okay, man?” Dave could hear the worry in his own voice. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him?
“I...” Kurt trailed again. There was actual sweat beginning to shine on his forehead, and it almost looked as though he was about to feint. “I have to -”
The last few words came out in a rush, and Kurt practically fell over himself in his haste to run into their en-suite bathroom and slam the door shut behind him. Dave blinked at the empty room, pausing for just a moment - before standing and practically running to the bathroom door.
“Kurt,” barked Dave, trying the door handle. It was locked. “Kurt, are you sick or something?” An image of Kurt, tiny body curled up on their bathroom floor, flashed in his mind. Clinging to the toilet and shuddering with helpless retches, eyes stung with tears from the bile. A horrible feeling clenched at Dave’s stomach.
There was a long and horrible pause before Kurt’s voice, sounding strangled and strangely high, drifted from behind the locked door.
“... it’s... f-fuck... it’s nothing.”
“Don’t worry about grossing me out or whatever, man. I’ve seen worse. You should let me inside so I can help.”
“No. Dave, no, please. Just go. Just ignore me. I’m serious, it’s nothing. Just... just go.”
It was possible that there was nothing else Kurt could have said that would have made Dave want to keep trying more badly. Fuck this, he thought. Kurt obviously needed him and just wasn’t going to admit it. Sometimes, Kurt just didn’t know what was best for him.
Dalton dormitories may have been comfortable and nice, but they were also very old. The fixtures just weren’t what the used to be; window panes were loose and let in cold air, floorboards squeaked, and the bathroom lock was fairly easy to force if you knew how. Dave twisted the handle, then gave the door two sharp jolts and felt the old-fashioned hook-and-eye lock give way. He pushed the door open, and saw -
And saw Kurt, sitting on edge of the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub with those ohmygodsotight pants and underwear pooled on the floor below. One leg up on the edge of the tub, and the brightly-coloured container of Kurt’s conditioner uncapped on the floor beside him. Kurt, who looked flushed, and humiliated, and horrified as he slid two long, perfect fingers in and out of his ass.
“F-fuck,” stammered Kurt, face screwed up in shame and refusing to look Dave in the eye. A few strands of brown hair fell across his face, obscuring his eyes. “Dave, this isn’t -”
“God, stop talking,” groaned Dave, and Kurt’s mouth slammed shut. His eyes were shining, blue and gorgeous and heartbreaking and his fingers were still moving. Pushing in and out, slicked up with creamy white conditioner and looking like something right out of one of Dave’s fantasies. “Just... let me touch you, Kurt. Please let me touch you.”
And Kurt didn’t say no. Just kept moving those fingers in and out, in and out. Dave stepped closer, kneeling down in front of the flushed boy and reaching up to cradle the side of his face, to force Kurt to look him in the eye. Kurt looked up and met his gaze with shining eyes full of anguish. Of mortification.
“It’s okay,” murmured Dave, reaching up with his other hand to grip Kurt’s half-hard cock. Kurt whimpered at the touch, but those fingers kept moving. “It’s okay, Kurt. I like you, too. God, I... I like you so much. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
The irony of Dave Karofsky telling someone else that there was no shame in loving another man was quickly shoved down in favour of making Kurt feel good. The sensation of holding another boy’s cock in his hand was surreal, but also so utterly right that it made Dave let out a small, blissful noise in the back of his throat. Kurt’s cock was a bit smaller than his own, and the shape also slightly different in a hundred little ways that Dave could think about all day. It only took a little while before Kurt was fully hard, panting and writhing precariously on the edge of the tub.
The entire time, Kurt held his gaze. His eyes looked pleading, as though silently begging for something. A harder touch, a faster speed, to be filled up with something bigger than his own fingers - Dave couldn’t be certain. All he was sure of was how prettily Kurt’s body twisted and twitched under his ministrations.
Eventually, though, Dave wanted more. Wanted to be insideKurt’s body, to touch him everywhere at once. The hand not on Kurt’s cock reached down and stilled Kurt’s hand.
“Stop,” murmured Dave. “Just... let me.”
Obediently, Kurt shuddered and slid his own fingers out.
Dave took his hand off Kurt’s cock for a few precious seconds to fumble with the bottle of conditioner, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. He then put the bottle back down on the floor. When Dave looked up at Kurt again, he looked... frantic. The sight of him, already spread out and loose for Dave’s fingers, made Dave groan out loud. He waited a few seconds before reaching forward and sliding one of his own fingers inside Kurt’s ass.
Kurt practically keened at the intrusion, tensing up hard. That made sense: Dave’s fingers were so much larger than Kurt’s own. Dave reached up to give Kurt’s flagging erection a few more strokes, continuing to twist his hand in time with his thrusts until Kurt was groaning and gasping once more.
It was an incredibly strange sensation, having one of his fingers inside of someone like this. Although Dave had dated girls, and had gone fairly far with a few of them, he had never done anything like this before. The position of his hand felt awkward and cramped, and the tightness and heat of Kurt’s body around his finger was unbelievable. When he felt he had given Kurt enough time to adjust, he added another finger. Kurt sobbed, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“It’s okay, babe,” Dave muttered nonsensically, his own arousal almost painfully still trapped within his jeans. He increased the speed of his hand on Kurt’s cock, pumping his fingers in time and making sure to twist them in the way that made Kurt shudder. “Feels so good, doesn’t it? You’re so gorgeous, Kurt. So beautiful for me, like this. Taking my fingers so deep. Come for me, Kurt. Just -”
Before Dave could speak another word, Kurt’s mouth flew open in a wordless shout. He came in spurts over Dave’s hand, shuddering and panting. The sight of Kurt tipping over the edge was quite possibly the hottest thing Dave had ever seen in his life. He groaned, stroking Kurt through the orgasm as he would for himself after masturbating, until the last of Kurt’s come was splattered over Dave’s hand. After a few moments had passed, he slowly and carefully pulled his fingers out. Kurt whined quietly, looking shell-shocked.
Without waiting for Kurt to speak, Dave leaned up and kissed Kurt on the lips. And oh, god, it was perfect. Better than kissing a girl had ever been. Kurt’s come was all over his hand, cooling rapidly, and his knees ached from staying kneeling on the ground for so long. But it was perfect. So perfect. Kurt was perfect.
“So good, babe,” murmured Dave, voice strained from arousal. He was close; too close to wait. Not caring about getting his jeans dirty, Dave reached down with his come-splattered hand and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out. He reached down and began to frantically stroke himself, smearing Kurt’s come all over his cock. Making it slick, making his hand fly over it impossibly quickly. “Fuck yeah, Kurt, so good -”
It took an embarrassingly short amount of time before Dave was coming over his own hand, shaking and clenching as pleasure gripped his body. He gasped, looking down in time to see himself coming over his already come-slicked hand. The sight made him shudder in a pleasure so intense it was almost like coming again.
“God, Kurt,” Dave gasped, shuddering through the aftershocks. Mind cleared from his desperate need to orgasm, the pain in his knees and legs was too strong to ignore any longer. He stood up shakily, grabbing a wad of toilet paper from the dispenser to clean off the worst of his hand and own cock before tucking it back into his jeans. He disposed of it, then grabbed some fresh tissue to clean off Kurt. It should have felt strange - wrong, even - touching another boy’s cock without the frenzy of want to make it acceptable. It didn’t, though. Cleaning Kurt up felt... nice. Important.
Dave was so distracted from this revelation that it took him far longer than it should have to look up into Kurt’s face.
Tears were streaming down Kurt’s face, catching in his lashes and making his cheeks shine. Despite the tears, he remained absolutely silent. Kurt’s lips were trembling, and he almost looked as though he was going to be sick. His expression was one of absolute anguish.
“Babe. Baby, what’s wrong?”
Kurt shook his head violently, making his hair fly even more out of place. He looked right into Dave’s eyes, and opened his mouth as if to speak - but no sound came out. He made a desperate, frantic noise at this, starting to shake so hard Dave could see the tremors wrack his body. Starting to breathe too hard, too fast while he scrambled to get his clothes back on again.
What the hell is this?
“Kurt, you’re freaking me out. Why aren’t you...?” Dave trailed off, and Kurt turned and fixed him with a devastated expression as he buttoned his fly with shaking fingers. Kurt opened his mouth as if to speak again, but once more no words came.
In some deep part of Dave’s mind, something clicked. A realization, an amassing of facts. Stringing together dozens of little red flags he should have caught before.
“You can talk,” Dave intoned, and the floodgates opened.
“Oh god oh god oh god,” choked Kurt, twisting his hands up in his clothes and shaking. “I couldn’t... I didn’t want... fuck, Dave, I don’t...” He trailed off into sobs, and the sounds Kurt made while crying were so much worse than the silence had been.
Dave wrapped a broad arm around Kurt’s small shoulders and led him out of the bathroom to Dave’s own bed, gently guiding him down into a sitting position. Kurt let himself be led, and Dave sat down next to him with his arm still squeezed tight around the shaking boy. Murmured comforting noises while suspicion grew, hot and horrible, in Dave’s mind. A few minutes passed before Kurt managed to control himself and get his breathing down to almost-normal levels.
Practically feeling dethatched from his own body, Dave decided to test his unbelievable, impossible theory. “Tell me what’s wrong, Kurt,” he said, giving Kurt’s shoulders a squeeze and being careful of his wording. And after the briefest of moments, Kurt began to speak; a torrent of words that came out in a rush.
It all came out. The curse that had been placed on an ancestor in his mother’s family hundreds of years ago and had never been broken, had never been resolved, and now rarely manifested in that family like a genetic disease. Dave listened, shocked. Echoes of the ancient magic were incredibly rare. Its practitioners had long since been wiped out for the danger they posed, and their art lost to the world. Something like this, that defied time and space to re-assert itself again and again must have been incredibly powerful. And incredibly horrible.
“It’s been like this since I was born, Dave: I have to do what people tell me to.” Kurt’s words were choked, but certain. Unwavering. “I can’t say no, and I can’t stop. It hurts if I try, so much, and I can never hold out very long before I... before I give in. It’s... it’s not a stupid compulsion, or a personality thing. I can’t say no. And... and I hate it. I hate it so much, and no one knows. Just my family, no one else, it’s safer that way. Dave... I know that you didn’t know.”
“What just happened... it happened because I told you to.” Dave could hear the dullness in his own voice. The devastation.
Kurt hesitated. Then he shifted uncomfortably and said, “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”
And the words were like a physical blow to Dave’s chest. Everything he had ever wanted was collapsing around him, falling apart into rubble and dust and emptiness. Being wrenched away from him, stolen. Because he’d had Kurt. He had touched him, and exposed himself for what he was, and really believed that it was the beginning of something so special and wonderful and his.
It doesn’t have to be over, said a little voice in the back of his head. You can make him. Take him. Keep him close, and take care of him, and keep him safe and happy and yours.
“Dave,” said Kurt uneasily, turning out of Dave’s grasp to look at him with worried eyes. “I like you a lot. You know that.”
No one ever has to know. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Are you going to let him take that away from you?
“But... but I just don’t feel that way about -”
“What if I ordered you to kiss me?” Dave looked straight ahead as the words left him, calm and measured. Kurt jerked away, a look of horror stealing onto his face.
“Shut up,” he hissed. “Shut up, don’t say that.”
“But I could. I could... I could tell you to kiss me, or love me, or -”
“Don’t you dare.” There was real fear in Kurt’s eyes, panic starting to bloom in his expression. “Dave, please. Don’t do this. This... this isn’t what you want. It isn’t what I -”
“Be with me,” said Dave, and the words came out strong and sure. He squashed the increasingly nauseated feeling in his stomach, the guilt growing in his mind. This was best for both of them, in the end. He could make Kurt so happy, if Kurt would just give him the chance. “Stay here at Dalton with me. Be mine. Don’t tell anyone, and don’t leave, and... and be mine.”
“Fuck you, Karofsky,” spat Kurt, face twisted up in pain and eyes brimming with betrayal. “Fuck you, I’m going to kill you -”
“Don’t hurt me. And don’t hurt yourself,” added Dave as an afterthought, leaning in to run a hand through Kurt’s hair. Kurt looked furiously at him through tear-filled eyes, flinching away from the touch. But he did not run. Did not scream, or fight, or kick. And that... god, that was intoxicating.
I can still have this. Can still have him.
He’ll be happy for it, in the end.
“Just let me have you,” whispered Dave, leaning so that their foreheads are pressed together. Still sitting next to one another on the bed, holding Kurt close - and not going to let him go. Never going to let him go.
Kurt’s whole body coiled up like a spring, tensing and clenching; Dave realized that this must be what Kurt fighting looked like. He held Kurt close through it, murmuring nonsense words and stroking his hair. Dave held him through it. Held Kurt as his face flushed and his eyes squeezed shut as he resisted, and fought, and tried so hard -
Until eventually, he stopped. Looked up at Dave with defeat and devastation in his eyes. And something else - something so foreign to the brave, haughty Kurt that Dave was hardly able to recognize it. Fear.
“I love you, Kurt,” said Dave at last. “And don’t be scared. Just... kiss me.”
Two months after Dave Karofsky met Kurt Hummel, Kurt leaned in with his eyes clamped shut and kissed Dave for the second time. Dave had closed his own eyes, held Kurt close, and pretended it was real.
--
Tonight, less than an hour after forbidding Kurt from seeing Jeff anymore, Dave holds Kurt’s sleeping body close against his chest as they lie in bed. He looks down at that beautiful face, peaceful like this only in slumber, and keeps on pretending.
“Chapter Two: Kurt”