Fic: "My Body Betrays Me," Chapter Four -- Part Two. Non-con Kurt/Karofsky, Kurt/Blaine
For everything that happens in this chapter... *enormous hug to all of you* Thank you for sticking it out with me. One more to go. :)
Title: "My Body Betrays Me" (Chapter Four: Kurt -- Part Two)
Author: emilianadarling
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: non-con/dub-con Kurt/Karofsky, Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Vaguely explained magic, non-con, dub-con, angst, awful situations, manipulation, crack prompt gone serious.
Length: 12,000 words 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 is magically compelled to follow orders. Dave takes advantage. Blaine just wants to make everything all right again.
Notes: One more chapter to go, guys. I can't even believe it. Thank you so, so much to all of you who have stuck it out with me so far. To those of you who have left the most amazing words of encouragement or passed on this fic to others... thank you. Because that just means the entire world to me. Guys... thank you so much.
Edited to Add:: There is now absolutely gorgeous fanart for this fic from the amazingly talented glitterp_fic!! :D :D :D
Chapter One: Dave
Chapter Two: Kurt
Chapter Three: Blaine
Chapter Four: Kurt -- Part One
--
“You can’t be serious. Kurt... Kurt, you can’t - please don’t do this.”
“I can, and I fully intend to.”
“Kurt... Kurt, please - we’ll think of something else, all right?”
“We’ve been over this already. Neither of us can think of another way. Blaine, we’re running out of time.”
“... I’m not going to let you.”
“Really, now? What are you going to do, order me not to?”
“...”
“I thought so.”
“Kurt...”
“You can either help me or I’m doing this on my own.”
--
There is nothing particularly notable about the dorm room that Dave Karofsky and Kurt Hummel have spent the past four months living in. Its size and shape are average for the building in which the room is located, and dozens of near-identical dorms can be found off of every hallway in the Milward-Hopkins building. Where posters of fashion icons used to adorn the walls, each and every one has been slowly and practically unnoticeably removed in the course of the past two months. Now the walls are nearly bare, with the exception of the old-fashioned crown and base moulding. The room is tidy; lived-in, and almost entirely unremarkable.
Aside from the fact that the worst experiences of Kurt’s life have taken place here, there is nothing special about this room.
For the first time in weeks, Kurt lies on his own bed. Although Dave insisted that their two twins remain separate for fear of any visitors or curfew-enforcers remarking on them being pushed together, Kurt cannot remember the last time he was allowed to sleep in his own bed. Dave always preferred to keep him close at night instead, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and pressing his nose into the crook of Kurt’s neck. For the first few minutes, his touch always made Kurt’s skin crawl: but eventually, the sensation would fade into normalcy.
Every night, Kurt would stare at the wall and dread the morning until sleep dragged him forcibly under. And most mornings he would wake to Dave’s harsh breathing behind him and a large hand pushing aside the waistband of his pyjama pants; to Dave’s voice in his ear whispering a shaky, “c’mon, enjoy this, babe” as Dave took him in hand.
As has become second nature to him over the past months, there is a disconnect between Kurt’s mind and his body as he lies on his bed - but this time it’s not the fault of the curse. His stomach twists in knots of anxiety and anticipation, every nerve on edge and every creak and muffled laugh from the room next door amplified tenfold.
Within Kurt’s mind, however, there is only the dreary resignation that comes with long practice. There will be time, later, to think about this. For now, Kurt shoves all the revulsion and anxiety down as far as it will go. Locks it all deep inside and focuses instead on what needs to be done.
When his phone goes off on the bed next to him, Kurt reaches over to pluck it off the covers and holds it above his head. After reading the contents of the text, he stands and places the phone on his desk before walking over to adjust something on the tall shelf beside the bathroom door. Once everything is ready, he takes a deep, steadying breath. Goes over what he has to accomplish one final time before he can hear footsteps coming down the hall. Heavy and hard, getting louder and louder, and there’s no doubt in Kurt’s mind who’s standing outside.
He steps back into the middle of the room just in time to hear a key turn in the lock, and the sound of the door swinging open.
When Kurt turns around, Dave is standing there. Tall and broad and taking up almost the entire doorway, looking at him with a mixture of tension and affection on his face.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d said the past few days had been hard. Kurt’s mind flashes briefly to the bruises on his wrists, the way Dave’s voice had gone nearly hoarse from shouted reprimands after finding out about Blaine.
Kurt imagines he should feel frightened.
He doesn’t.
“Hey,” says Dave, brows furrowing a little in confusion. He drops his knapsack onto the floor with a soft thump and closes the door. “I thought you had class in fifth period.”
Like a statue, hard and stoic, Kurt says nothing. Without Dave’s orders to constrain him, Kurt can feel his face twisting into an expression of distaste seemingly of its own volition; eyes narrowing, lips curling up into a sneer. Dave gives him a strange look, taking a step closer.
“Well,” says Dave after a long pause, a hint of something playful coming into his eyes. “Since you’re here, at least we can use the time for something nice, right?” He grins and takes a another step forward into Kurt’s personal space, reaching up to place a hand on the back of Kurt’s neck -
- and Kurt twists out of his grasp before he can get a good hold, sidestepping the hand. All the while keeping his gaze fixed right on Dave’s eyes.
“No,” states Kurt, and his voice is full of understated hardness to his own ears. “No, stop it, I don’t want this.”
Dave stumbles back as though physically struck by the words. His eyes fly wide open, a look of complete bewilderment twisting at his face. A strange tension begins to tug at Dave’s body; he straightens up, holding his shoulders ever-so-slightly too tight.
“What?” asks Dave in a small, dazed voice. “What are you...?” There is a long pause before Dave chokes out a tiny laugh, shaking his head as if to dispel something from his mind. “Stop saying that, Kurt,” he orders firmly, before moving to reach out to touch Kurt again.
Once more, Kurt evades. Darting out of the way before Dave can take hold.
“Don’t touch me,” Kurt spits instead, mind working frantically to come up with new ways to phrase the sentiment. There’s only so long he can do this for, and every sentence has to count.
In front of him, Dave looks as though he’s been punched in the gut. He reels back, hurt and betrayal and incomprehension drawn across his face.
“What is wrong with you?” Dave asks in disbelief, looking at Kurt as though he’s never seen him before. As though Kurt is a piece of malfunctioning technology; a computer with a blue screen. Error messages that shouldn’t be there. “Don’t - don’t say that, just - hold still and let me kiss you -”
All at once, Kurt’s feet may as well be glued to the hardwood floor. Dave steps purposefully forward, grabbing Kurt’s shoulders hard in both hands so hard that it almost hurts, and Kurt only has a few seconds to make count.
“This is rape -” Kurt tries to shout, loud and strong and sure on the last word before Dave slams their lips together. It isn’t a kiss so much as a silencing: Dave stands against him, large and strong and unmovable. Even if the curse would let him try to jerk away, Dave is so much bigger than him that there wouldn’t be a point. Over the past months, Kurt has become more aware than ever before of how small and slight and delicate his body is: he doesn’t have even the tiniest chance of physically overpowering Dave at all. Twice damned, he has no choice except to stand there and let Dave kiss him, hard and bruising and unrelenting.
When Dave finally pulls away, there is something icy and hard in his expression.
“I have no idea what the hell’s been going on with you lately,” he says, quiet and hard and shaking. Kurt can almost feel Dave’s anger over him hiding Blaine coming to the surface again, mingling with this fresh disloyalty. “But do not say anything like that. Don’t you dare, Kurt.” Something like a sneer comes over Dave’s face. “What happened, did some teacher today say you should express yourself? Speak your mind?”
An ugly expression tugs at Dave’s lips, and his fingers are still digging into Kurt’s bony shoulders. “You’re so fucking ungrateful, Kurt,” says Dave resentfully. “I love you. I love you more than anything, and this is how you pay me back? Jumping at every chance to lie to me, and talk back, and -”
But the rest of his sentence is cut off when Kurt pulls back and spits on Dave’s face.
Dave freezes in place as spit hits him right on the cheek, an expression of shock frozen on his face for what seems like an endless moment. There is a pause. Then, Dave closes his eyes like someone in physical pain.
“Okay,” he says softly, “that’s enough.” With one hand, Dave lets go of Kurt’s shoulder and reaches up to rub the spit off his cheek. It leaves a wet smear there, shining in the light of the room. Kurt’s heart is pounding in his chest, but he makes sure to keep the glare firmly fixed to his face. It doesn’t take much. Dave lets out a long, hard breath of air. “Kurt... I love you,” he says, giving his head a small shake. “But sometimes you just need to be reminded...”
Trailing off, Dave’s eyes dart briefly downward. And when Dave looks up again Kurt can barely keep himself from shuddering. The expression on Dave’s face is shocking in its resemblance to that of the parent of a misbehaving child. Tried patience, and frustration, and regret at having to resort to admonishment.
And underneath it all, the same sick affection that’s been there all along. As though if Dave teaches him a lesson, Kurt will learn to behave. Will go back to being the obedient little thing he was.
“Get on your knees,” Dave says, quiet and confident in the manner of someone who doesn’t have to yell or shout to have their orders followed. Kurt holds his gaze, glaring all the while, for as long as he can before the dizziness begins to truly set in. When he can no longer hold out, he sinks ever-so-slowly down to the floor.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Dave reprimands, unbuttoning the front of his black slacks. “This is for your own good. And just in case you have any other bright ideas: don’t bite down.”
The floor is hard and cold beneath Kurt’s knees. Despite all the things Dave has made him do, Kurt has only been forced to suck Dave’s cock once before. It was the same day Dave discovered him standing at the top of a flight of stairs, trying with all his might to push through the dizziness and nausea and pain long enough to convince his body to throw itself down. It hadn’t taken long for Dave to worm the truth out of him later that night.
It’s rare for Dave to force him into a one-sided act like this. In the past, Dave’s told him about how useless it makes him feel; how he’d always prefer to drive Kurt wild with his own mouth or hand. Would rather make Kurt lose control than be pleasured himself. Sex, Dave had always told him, was good because it was ‘fair’. Because both of them ‘got something out of it’.
Privately, Kurt has always believed that forcing him to his knees makes Dave feel guilty.
Letting out a breath, Dave unzips his fly and pulls out his cock. Kurt is surprised to see that there is only the smallest beginning of an erection there.
And then comes a long, terrible moment where Kurt absolutely knows what is going to come next: Dave is going to tell him to enjoy this. The fog will come, pleasurable and maddening, cloying at his mind and making his mouth water; making him open wide and choke happily around Dave’s cock. Groaning and licking and teasing and purring while his mind screams on the inside.
For so many reasons, Kurt dreads the command; flinches when Dave opens his mouth.
But the order doesn’t come.
“Open up,” he says instead. “Let me fuck your mouth, babe.” From what Kurt can see from his current position, Dave’s expression is a picture of determination tinged with guilt.
And as Kurt gives in and parts his lips, he realizes: Dave actually thinks that holding back from telling Kurt to enjoy this is a punishment.
It isn’t.
It’s glorious.
When Dave pushes his now half-hard cock between Kurt’s lips, every single bit of revulsion and discomfort is his own. The smell, the taste, the feel of the unwanted pressure on his tongue makes Kurt’s stomach roil in a way that isn’t clouded with need or desire or desperation. It isn’t clean: there’s too much musk along the tip, dirty and disgusting, and the knowledge of what that’s from makes Kurt’s stomach turn. Dave begins to harden as he pushes in, swelling and filling Kurt’s mouth and already making is jaw ache - and when Dave’s hips stutter forward and thrust in, the movement makes Kurt retch wetly around the length.
Kurt doesn’t want this, and for the first time his body doesn’t want it either. He clenches his hands into his thighs and hates it, revelling in the harsh clarity of the emotion.
“C’mon, babe, take it,” murmurs Dave, hand coming down to tangle in Kurt’s hair. The touch is rough, holding Kurt’s head in place as he begins to rock his hips harder. His thumb drags over Kurt’s scalp in a way that is supposed to be comforting. It feels so wrong, having something so big shoved into his mouth like this: an invasion he’s barely had to deal with before now. Dave’s cock slides farther in, hitting the back of his throat and triggering his gag reflex again. Kurt’s never had much practice at this: he splutters and chokes around it, eyes watering. “Don’t choke, Kurt, come on.”
At once, the muscles in Kurt’s throat relax without his permission. His tongue depresses on its own, and his jaw opens wide to take Dave in. Experimentally, Kurt attempts to gag around the cock in his mouth: he can’t. The urge is shoved down so hard it might as well not exist. Dave keeps up the rhythm, hand on Kurt’s head as he guides his too-big cock in and out of Kurt’s mouth. Sometimes deep, sometimes little shallow thrusts that wrap Kurt’s lips around the head.
It’s so much easier to disassociate when it’s like this. When disgust is pounding through his head instead of being hard and hot and writhing for more. As his mouth gets fucked, the world doesn’t fall away. Instead, tiny details of no significance are suddenly magnified in Kurt’s mind. The soreness in his knees, the tiny red light on the bookshelf, the wet sounds it makes whenever Dave thrusts in.
The words tumbling out of Dave’s mouth, harsh and ragged.
“That’s it,” Dave exhales, using his grip on Kurt’s hair to jerk his head forward and back; simulating an eager participant. The motion makes it even harder for Kurt to breathe; makes him feel like little more than a doll being played with. A little whimper escapes his throat before he can stop himself. Spit is staring to leak out of the corners of his mouth.
“You just - fuck, Kurt, yeah - need to realize, babe, how lucky you are -” says Dave, cutting off into a groan and snapping his hips forward. The movement is so hard it almost sends Kurt flying backwards, hands flying back to brace against the ground while Dave keeps his head in place. The thrusts are coming harder now, and if his throat would let him he’d be choking up bile. The steady in-and-out as Dave shoves his cock down Kurt’s throat is undeniably brutal.
Saliva is filling Kurt’s mouth too fast too much, and he tries to pull back in order to swallow it down - but Dave just lets out a tiny growl and clamps down on his hair, keeping him in place. The spit starts to slide over his chin, and his eyes are watering, and Kurt can’t breathe. Can’t get enough air in throat his nose with this pace, and Dave’s cock gagging him up.
“I keep you safe,” groans Dave from above him, sweat trickling down his stomach and body starting to clench. Kurt’s jaw is aching, seizing, and dizziness reeling at his head has nothing to do with the curse. “P-protect you and love you and keep you close forever and all you have to do is take it, Kurt, just take it.”
Kurt lets out a wet, strangled noise - I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe - as his legs ache and his hands scrabble against the wood floors, and that’s all it takes. Dave grabs the back of his head and slams him in close, Kurt’s nose shoved practically into Dave’s stomach as his cock pulses and spurts deep in Kurt’s throat. Vile bitterness hits the back of his throat, and if Kurt was physically capable he would be retching.
Hands twisted hard in Kurt’s hair, Dave lets out a blissful exhalation. Kurt reaches up to try to claw at Dave’s pants because his face is soaked in tears and spit and he can’t breathe and Dave isn’t letting him pull away, and the world is starting to blur out around the edges and stars are going off behind his eyelids.
“Swallow, babe,” Dave whispers faintly, and Kurt does so without a second thought. The substance is musky-bitter-almost-sterile in a strange way, thick and awful as it slides down. And finally - finally - Dave lets go of his head. Lets him tug back and tumble onto his back on the floor, drawing in a massive wet gasp of air and choking-not-choking at nothing, trying to draw more oxygen into his aching lungs.
Sprawled across the ground with his face streaked with damp and the aftertaste of Dave’s come in his mouth, Kurt breathes hard and fast in an attempt to get his wind back. But the revulsion -the horror, the ache in his jaw, the disgust - it’s all still his. It hasn’t been lessened, or tainted, or shoved aside. Every nerve in his body is tingling with hatred and contempt.
Done.
He hears rather than sees Dave come closer, gentle footsteps on wood floor, until Dave drops down beside him - and pulls Kurt into his arms.
“There we go, baby,” says Dave comfortingly, scooping Kurt up and pulling his body up against him. Ear pressed against Dave’s chest, Kurt can feel his heart pounding post-orgasm in his chest. Dave tuts lightly. “All done now. That wasn’t so bad, right? My Kurt...”
One of his large hands strokes over the side of Kurt’s neck. Kurt shudders away from the touch, face twisting into an expression of furious disdain that he knows Dave cannot see from this angle. His throat feels raw and sore, and he’s still breathing harder than normal.
“I’m sorry I got a little rough there,” says Dave sadly, fingers rubbing gently at Kurt’s throat. It feels vulnerable, exposed. “I just... it makes me so scared when you say things like that, you know? Kurt, you have stop saying things like that.” His grip tightens around Kurt’s shoulders in a long, hard squeeze.
“Why can’t you just make this easy for us, Kurt?” Dave asks, sounding far-away. Contemplative. “Why can’t you just accept that this is the way things are now? It would make everything so much better. For you, for me. For us.” He presses a kiss absently to the top of Kurt’s head. “I love you so much, and... and it would be so much easier if...”
Dave gives his head a shake. He takes hold of Kurt by the shoulders, pulling him up so that they’re face to face. Before he can look Kurt fully in the eye, he grabs the back of Kurt’s neck and pulls him in for a hard kiss. His lips are unforgiving and full of some unknown desperation. Dave clutches at the back of Kurt’s head in almost the exact same way he did five minutes ago; when he was slamming Kurt’s head forward onto his cock harderfasterdeeper. Kurt doesn’t respond in the slightest to the touch, completely rigid as Dave kisses him with everything he has. It’s demanding, yes. But also sad; even wistful.
When Dave finally pulls away, he presses one last little kiss against Kurt’s wet lips like a promise. There is something tugging at his expression that Kurt cannot identify. It mixes together with the longing and regret already there - and, more terrible than anything, love.
Kurt hadn’t wanted to believe, for the longest time, that Dave felt anything real for him. Hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the fact that someone who loves him, who was supposed to care about him, could do something so awful. Could disregard everything Kurt wanted for his own selfishness.
But Kurt can no longer deny that Dave loves him. It’s broken love, certainly. Twisted and sick and wrong, but it is there. It’s real.
And that is more terrifying than anything.
After a moment Dave laughs lightly, swiping a thumb over Kurt’s cheek.
“In any case, that was amazing, babe. Those lips of yours, wrapped around me like that... god, it was...” Dave chuckles, hand drifting lower. “I actually just came back to grab my books for last period, so I’m gonna have to head out. Otherwise...” He strokes Kurt through the thin material of his slacks. Kurt shudders, and Dave makes a quietly pleased mmmm noise in response. “I’ll take care of you when I get back. Stay in here until I come back, okay? I’ll grab something from the cafeteria for you.”
Gently sliding Kurt’s body back onto the ground, Dave stands and turns to leave. He looks composed, together. Apparently, he tidied and re-zipped himself when Kurt was on the floor trying desperately to breathe. Dave crouches down low to kiss him one last time - soft and sweet and satisfied - before he leaves.
The door shuts softly. Kurt sits on the ground with a dull buzz ringing in his ears.
You’re a whore, says a voice in the back of his head. Not vicious at all, just... matter-of-fact. He pushes the feeling down. Pushes the disgust and the hysteria attempting to bubble up inside his throat down, down, down because now simply isn’t the time.
With the promise of later, later you can think about it hardening over his heart, Kurt sits and breathes and waits.
Chapter Four: Kurt -- Part Two, continued
Title: "My Body Betrays Me" (Chapter Four: Kurt -- Part Two)
Author: emilianadarling
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: non-con/dub-con Kurt/Karofsky, Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Vaguely explained magic, non-con, dub-con, angst, awful situations, manipulation, crack prompt gone serious.
Length: 12,000 words 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 is magically compelled to follow orders. Dave takes advantage. Blaine just wants to make everything all right again.
Notes: One more chapter to go, guys. I can't even believe it. Thank you so, so much to all of you who have stuck it out with me so far. To those of you who have left the most amazing words of encouragement or passed on this fic to others... thank you. Because that just means the entire world to me. Guys... thank you so much.
Edited to Add:: There is now absolutely gorgeous fanart for this fic from the amazingly talented glitterp_fic!! :D :D :D
Chapter One: Dave
Chapter Two: Kurt
Chapter Three: Blaine
Chapter Four: Kurt -- Part One
--
“You can’t be serious. Kurt... Kurt, you can’t - please don’t do this.”
“I can, and I fully intend to.”
“Kurt... Kurt, please - we’ll think of something else, all right?”
“We’ve been over this already. Neither of us can think of another way. Blaine, we’re running out of time.”
“... I’m not going to let you.”
“Really, now? What are you going to do, order me not to?”
“...”
“I thought so.”
“Kurt...”
“You can either help me or I’m doing this on my own.”
--
There is nothing particularly notable about the dorm room that Dave Karofsky and Kurt Hummel have spent the past four months living in. Its size and shape are average for the building in which the room is located, and dozens of near-identical dorms can be found off of every hallway in the Milward-Hopkins building. Where posters of fashion icons used to adorn the walls, each and every one has been slowly and practically unnoticeably removed in the course of the past two months. Now the walls are nearly bare, with the exception of the old-fashioned crown and base moulding. The room is tidy; lived-in, and almost entirely unremarkable.
Aside from the fact that the worst experiences of Kurt’s life have taken place here, there is nothing special about this room.
For the first time in weeks, Kurt lies on his own bed. Although Dave insisted that their two twins remain separate for fear of any visitors or curfew-enforcers remarking on them being pushed together, Kurt cannot remember the last time he was allowed to sleep in his own bed. Dave always preferred to keep him close at night instead, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and pressing his nose into the crook of Kurt’s neck. For the first few minutes, his touch always made Kurt’s skin crawl: but eventually, the sensation would fade into normalcy.
Every night, Kurt would stare at the wall and dread the morning until sleep dragged him forcibly under. And most mornings he would wake to Dave’s harsh breathing behind him and a large hand pushing aside the waistband of his pyjama pants; to Dave’s voice in his ear whispering a shaky, “c’mon, enjoy this, babe” as Dave took him in hand.
As has become second nature to him over the past months, there is a disconnect between Kurt’s mind and his body as he lies on his bed - but this time it’s not the fault of the curse. His stomach twists in knots of anxiety and anticipation, every nerve on edge and every creak and muffled laugh from the room next door amplified tenfold.
Within Kurt’s mind, however, there is only the dreary resignation that comes with long practice. There will be time, later, to think about this. For now, Kurt shoves all the revulsion and anxiety down as far as it will go. Locks it all deep inside and focuses instead on what needs to be done.
When his phone goes off on the bed next to him, Kurt reaches over to pluck it off the covers and holds it above his head. After reading the contents of the text, he stands and places the phone on his desk before walking over to adjust something on the tall shelf beside the bathroom door. Once everything is ready, he takes a deep, steadying breath. Goes over what he has to accomplish one final time before he can hear footsteps coming down the hall. Heavy and hard, getting louder and louder, and there’s no doubt in Kurt’s mind who’s standing outside.
He steps back into the middle of the room just in time to hear a key turn in the lock, and the sound of the door swinging open.
When Kurt turns around, Dave is standing there. Tall and broad and taking up almost the entire doorway, looking at him with a mixture of tension and affection on his face.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d said the past few days had been hard. Kurt’s mind flashes briefly to the bruises on his wrists, the way Dave’s voice had gone nearly hoarse from shouted reprimands after finding out about Blaine.
Kurt imagines he should feel frightened.
He doesn’t.
“Hey,” says Dave, brows furrowing a little in confusion. He drops his knapsack onto the floor with a soft thump and closes the door. “I thought you had class in fifth period.”
Like a statue, hard and stoic, Kurt says nothing. Without Dave’s orders to constrain him, Kurt can feel his face twisting into an expression of distaste seemingly of its own volition; eyes narrowing, lips curling up into a sneer. Dave gives him a strange look, taking a step closer.
“Well,” says Dave after a long pause, a hint of something playful coming into his eyes. “Since you’re here, at least we can use the time for something nice, right?” He grins and takes a another step forward into Kurt’s personal space, reaching up to place a hand on the back of Kurt’s neck -
- and Kurt twists out of his grasp before he can get a good hold, sidestepping the hand. All the while keeping his gaze fixed right on Dave’s eyes.
“No,” states Kurt, and his voice is full of understated hardness to his own ears. “No, stop it, I don’t want this.”
Dave stumbles back as though physically struck by the words. His eyes fly wide open, a look of complete bewilderment twisting at his face. A strange tension begins to tug at Dave’s body; he straightens up, holding his shoulders ever-so-slightly too tight.
“What?” asks Dave in a small, dazed voice. “What are you...?” There is a long pause before Dave chokes out a tiny laugh, shaking his head as if to dispel something from his mind. “Stop saying that, Kurt,” he orders firmly, before moving to reach out to touch Kurt again.
Once more, Kurt evades. Darting out of the way before Dave can take hold.
“Don’t touch me,” Kurt spits instead, mind working frantically to come up with new ways to phrase the sentiment. There’s only so long he can do this for, and every sentence has to count.
In front of him, Dave looks as though he’s been punched in the gut. He reels back, hurt and betrayal and incomprehension drawn across his face.
“What is wrong with you?” Dave asks in disbelief, looking at Kurt as though he’s never seen him before. As though Kurt is a piece of malfunctioning technology; a computer with a blue screen. Error messages that shouldn’t be there. “Don’t - don’t say that, just - hold still and let me kiss you -”
All at once, Kurt’s feet may as well be glued to the hardwood floor. Dave steps purposefully forward, grabbing Kurt’s shoulders hard in both hands so hard that it almost hurts, and Kurt only has a few seconds to make count.
“This is rape -” Kurt tries to shout, loud and strong and sure on the last word before Dave slams their lips together. It isn’t a kiss so much as a silencing: Dave stands against him, large and strong and unmovable. Even if the curse would let him try to jerk away, Dave is so much bigger than him that there wouldn’t be a point. Over the past months, Kurt has become more aware than ever before of how small and slight and delicate his body is: he doesn’t have even the tiniest chance of physically overpowering Dave at all. Twice damned, he has no choice except to stand there and let Dave kiss him, hard and bruising and unrelenting.
When Dave finally pulls away, there is something icy and hard in his expression.
“I have no idea what the hell’s been going on with you lately,” he says, quiet and hard and shaking. Kurt can almost feel Dave’s anger over him hiding Blaine coming to the surface again, mingling with this fresh disloyalty. “But do not say anything like that. Don’t you dare, Kurt.” Something like a sneer comes over Dave’s face. “What happened, did some teacher today say you should express yourself? Speak your mind?”
An ugly expression tugs at Dave’s lips, and his fingers are still digging into Kurt’s bony shoulders. “You’re so fucking ungrateful, Kurt,” says Dave resentfully. “I love you. I love you more than anything, and this is how you pay me back? Jumping at every chance to lie to me, and talk back, and -”
But the rest of his sentence is cut off when Kurt pulls back and spits on Dave’s face.
Dave freezes in place as spit hits him right on the cheek, an expression of shock frozen on his face for what seems like an endless moment. There is a pause. Then, Dave closes his eyes like someone in physical pain.
“Okay,” he says softly, “that’s enough.” With one hand, Dave lets go of Kurt’s shoulder and reaches up to rub the spit off his cheek. It leaves a wet smear there, shining in the light of the room. Kurt’s heart is pounding in his chest, but he makes sure to keep the glare firmly fixed to his face. It doesn’t take much. Dave lets out a long, hard breath of air. “Kurt... I love you,” he says, giving his head a small shake. “But sometimes you just need to be reminded...”
Trailing off, Dave’s eyes dart briefly downward. And when Dave looks up again Kurt can barely keep himself from shuddering. The expression on Dave’s face is shocking in its resemblance to that of the parent of a misbehaving child. Tried patience, and frustration, and regret at having to resort to admonishment.
And underneath it all, the same sick affection that’s been there all along. As though if Dave teaches him a lesson, Kurt will learn to behave. Will go back to being the obedient little thing he was.
“Get on your knees,” Dave says, quiet and confident in the manner of someone who doesn’t have to yell or shout to have their orders followed. Kurt holds his gaze, glaring all the while, for as long as he can before the dizziness begins to truly set in. When he can no longer hold out, he sinks ever-so-slowly down to the floor.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Dave reprimands, unbuttoning the front of his black slacks. “This is for your own good. And just in case you have any other bright ideas: don’t bite down.”
The floor is hard and cold beneath Kurt’s knees. Despite all the things Dave has made him do, Kurt has only been forced to suck Dave’s cock once before. It was the same day Dave discovered him standing at the top of a flight of stairs, trying with all his might to push through the dizziness and nausea and pain long enough to convince his body to throw itself down. It hadn’t taken long for Dave to worm the truth out of him later that night.
It’s rare for Dave to force him into a one-sided act like this. In the past, Dave’s told him about how useless it makes him feel; how he’d always prefer to drive Kurt wild with his own mouth or hand. Would rather make Kurt lose control than be pleasured himself. Sex, Dave had always told him, was good because it was ‘fair’. Because both of them ‘got something out of it’.
Privately, Kurt has always believed that forcing him to his knees makes Dave feel guilty.
Letting out a breath, Dave unzips his fly and pulls out his cock. Kurt is surprised to see that there is only the smallest beginning of an erection there.
And then comes a long, terrible moment where Kurt absolutely knows what is going to come next: Dave is going to tell him to enjoy this. The fog will come, pleasurable and maddening, cloying at his mind and making his mouth water; making him open wide and choke happily around Dave’s cock. Groaning and licking and teasing and purring while his mind screams on the inside.
For so many reasons, Kurt dreads the command; flinches when Dave opens his mouth.
But the order doesn’t come.
“Open up,” he says instead. “Let me fuck your mouth, babe.” From what Kurt can see from his current position, Dave’s expression is a picture of determination tinged with guilt.
And as Kurt gives in and parts his lips, he realizes: Dave actually thinks that holding back from telling Kurt to enjoy this is a punishment.
It isn’t.
It’s glorious.
When Dave pushes his now half-hard cock between Kurt’s lips, every single bit of revulsion and discomfort is his own. The smell, the taste, the feel of the unwanted pressure on his tongue makes Kurt’s stomach roil in a way that isn’t clouded with need or desire or desperation. It isn’t clean: there’s too much musk along the tip, dirty and disgusting, and the knowledge of what that’s from makes Kurt’s stomach turn. Dave begins to harden as he pushes in, swelling and filling Kurt’s mouth and already making is jaw ache - and when Dave’s hips stutter forward and thrust in, the movement makes Kurt retch wetly around the length.
Kurt doesn’t want this, and for the first time his body doesn’t want it either. He clenches his hands into his thighs and hates it, revelling in the harsh clarity of the emotion.
“C’mon, babe, take it,” murmurs Dave, hand coming down to tangle in Kurt’s hair. The touch is rough, holding Kurt’s head in place as he begins to rock his hips harder. His thumb drags over Kurt’s scalp in a way that is supposed to be comforting. It feels so wrong, having something so big shoved into his mouth like this: an invasion he’s barely had to deal with before now. Dave’s cock slides farther in, hitting the back of his throat and triggering his gag reflex again. Kurt’s never had much practice at this: he splutters and chokes around it, eyes watering. “Don’t choke, Kurt, come on.”
At once, the muscles in Kurt’s throat relax without his permission. His tongue depresses on its own, and his jaw opens wide to take Dave in. Experimentally, Kurt attempts to gag around the cock in his mouth: he can’t. The urge is shoved down so hard it might as well not exist. Dave keeps up the rhythm, hand on Kurt’s head as he guides his too-big cock in and out of Kurt’s mouth. Sometimes deep, sometimes little shallow thrusts that wrap Kurt’s lips around the head.
It’s so much easier to disassociate when it’s like this. When disgust is pounding through his head instead of being hard and hot and writhing for more. As his mouth gets fucked, the world doesn’t fall away. Instead, tiny details of no significance are suddenly magnified in Kurt’s mind. The soreness in his knees, the tiny red light on the bookshelf, the wet sounds it makes whenever Dave thrusts in.
The words tumbling out of Dave’s mouth, harsh and ragged.
“That’s it,” Dave exhales, using his grip on Kurt’s hair to jerk his head forward and back; simulating an eager participant. The motion makes it even harder for Kurt to breathe; makes him feel like little more than a doll being played with. A little whimper escapes his throat before he can stop himself. Spit is staring to leak out of the corners of his mouth.
“You just - fuck, Kurt, yeah - need to realize, babe, how lucky you are -” says Dave, cutting off into a groan and snapping his hips forward. The movement is so hard it almost sends Kurt flying backwards, hands flying back to brace against the ground while Dave keeps his head in place. The thrusts are coming harder now, and if his throat would let him he’d be choking up bile. The steady in-and-out as Dave shoves his cock down Kurt’s throat is undeniably brutal.
Saliva is filling Kurt’s mouth too fast too much, and he tries to pull back in order to swallow it down - but Dave just lets out a tiny growl and clamps down on his hair, keeping him in place. The spit starts to slide over his chin, and his eyes are watering, and Kurt can’t breathe. Can’t get enough air in throat his nose with this pace, and Dave’s cock gagging him up.
“I keep you safe,” groans Dave from above him, sweat trickling down his stomach and body starting to clench. Kurt’s jaw is aching, seizing, and dizziness reeling at his head has nothing to do with the curse. “P-protect you and love you and keep you close forever and all you have to do is take it, Kurt, just take it.”
Kurt lets out a wet, strangled noise - I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe - as his legs ache and his hands scrabble against the wood floors, and that’s all it takes. Dave grabs the back of his head and slams him in close, Kurt’s nose shoved practically into Dave’s stomach as his cock pulses and spurts deep in Kurt’s throat. Vile bitterness hits the back of his throat, and if Kurt was physically capable he would be retching.
Hands twisted hard in Kurt’s hair, Dave lets out a blissful exhalation. Kurt reaches up to try to claw at Dave’s pants because his face is soaked in tears and spit and he can’t breathe and Dave isn’t letting him pull away, and the world is starting to blur out around the edges and stars are going off behind his eyelids.
“Swallow, babe,” Dave whispers faintly, and Kurt does so without a second thought. The substance is musky-bitter-almost-sterile in a strange way, thick and awful as it slides down. And finally - finally - Dave lets go of his head. Lets him tug back and tumble onto his back on the floor, drawing in a massive wet gasp of air and choking-not-choking at nothing, trying to draw more oxygen into his aching lungs.
Sprawled across the ground with his face streaked with damp and the aftertaste of Dave’s come in his mouth, Kurt breathes hard and fast in an attempt to get his wind back. But the revulsion -the horror, the ache in his jaw, the disgust - it’s all still his. It hasn’t been lessened, or tainted, or shoved aside. Every nerve in his body is tingling with hatred and contempt.
Done.
He hears rather than sees Dave come closer, gentle footsteps on wood floor, until Dave drops down beside him - and pulls Kurt into his arms.
“There we go, baby,” says Dave comfortingly, scooping Kurt up and pulling his body up against him. Ear pressed against Dave’s chest, Kurt can feel his heart pounding post-orgasm in his chest. Dave tuts lightly. “All done now. That wasn’t so bad, right? My Kurt...”
One of his large hands strokes over the side of Kurt’s neck. Kurt shudders away from the touch, face twisting into an expression of furious disdain that he knows Dave cannot see from this angle. His throat feels raw and sore, and he’s still breathing harder than normal.
“I’m sorry I got a little rough there,” says Dave sadly, fingers rubbing gently at Kurt’s throat. It feels vulnerable, exposed. “I just... it makes me so scared when you say things like that, you know? Kurt, you have stop saying things like that.” His grip tightens around Kurt’s shoulders in a long, hard squeeze.
“Why can’t you just make this easy for us, Kurt?” Dave asks, sounding far-away. Contemplative. “Why can’t you just accept that this is the way things are now? It would make everything so much better. For you, for me. For us.” He presses a kiss absently to the top of Kurt’s head. “I love you so much, and... and it would be so much easier if...”
Dave gives his head a shake. He takes hold of Kurt by the shoulders, pulling him up so that they’re face to face. Before he can look Kurt fully in the eye, he grabs the back of Kurt’s neck and pulls him in for a hard kiss. His lips are unforgiving and full of some unknown desperation. Dave clutches at the back of Kurt’s head in almost the exact same way he did five minutes ago; when he was slamming Kurt’s head forward onto his cock harderfasterdeeper. Kurt doesn’t respond in the slightest to the touch, completely rigid as Dave kisses him with everything he has. It’s demanding, yes. But also sad; even wistful.
When Dave finally pulls away, he presses one last little kiss against Kurt’s wet lips like a promise. There is something tugging at his expression that Kurt cannot identify. It mixes together with the longing and regret already there - and, more terrible than anything, love.
Kurt hadn’t wanted to believe, for the longest time, that Dave felt anything real for him. Hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the fact that someone who loves him, who was supposed to care about him, could do something so awful. Could disregard everything Kurt wanted for his own selfishness.
But Kurt can no longer deny that Dave loves him. It’s broken love, certainly. Twisted and sick and wrong, but it is there. It’s real.
And that is more terrifying than anything.
After a moment Dave laughs lightly, swiping a thumb over Kurt’s cheek.
“In any case, that was amazing, babe. Those lips of yours, wrapped around me like that... god, it was...” Dave chuckles, hand drifting lower. “I actually just came back to grab my books for last period, so I’m gonna have to head out. Otherwise...” He strokes Kurt through the thin material of his slacks. Kurt shudders, and Dave makes a quietly pleased mmmm noise in response. “I’ll take care of you when I get back. Stay in here until I come back, okay? I’ll grab something from the cafeteria for you.”
Gently sliding Kurt’s body back onto the ground, Dave stands and turns to leave. He looks composed, together. Apparently, he tidied and re-zipped himself when Kurt was on the floor trying desperately to breathe. Dave crouches down low to kiss him one last time - soft and sweet and satisfied - before he leaves.
The door shuts softly. Kurt sits on the ground with a dull buzz ringing in his ears.
You’re a whore, says a voice in the back of his head. Not vicious at all, just... matter-of-fact. He pushes the feeling down. Pushes the disgust and the hysteria attempting to bubble up inside his throat down, down, down because now simply isn’t the time.
With the promise of later, later you can think about it hardening over his heart, Kurt sits and breathes and waits.
Chapter Four: Kurt -- Part Two, continued