You Belong to Me- 13/15
Title:You Belong to Me 13/15
Author: mothergoddamn
Pairing/characters: Blaine/Kurt, Blaine/Karofsky, Kurt/Karofsky
Warning: SEE ABOVE. Non Con. Character death. Homophobic language. Violence.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Everyone knows that bond-servants get what they get. When Blaine enters the picture, it's harder to remember that. Slave AU.
Previous:
1/2/3/4/ 5/
6/ 7/ 8/9/ 10
11/ 12
You Belong to Me
Chapter 13
Dave stumbled from the house, his face aching from Blaine's blows and tears stinging his eyes.
Fine. Fine! I'll just get out myself. He flung open the door to his truck, trying to pretend the sobbing wasn't coming from him as he climbed in. Fuck them all, he'd tried hadn't he? At least he’d done that.
Pulling away from the house, he heaved his breaths from his chest, each one hurting more than the last.
Why did he have to be like this? If he wasn't, then his dad would never have brought home that damn catalogue. None of this would have happened.
But Kurt--
What about Kurt? Who cared what the resident queer thought of him? Like what, maybe if Dave had just gone up to him one day at school and asked him out and there'd never been a Blaine everything would be different? It would all be okay?
Maybe. Maybe Kurt would have smiled shyly and nodded. Dave would have been scared until he did that, but not because some severe cheek-boned fuck was threatening him but in case Kurt had said no. They'd have gone to Breadstix, maybe with that loud Jones girl, and had a nice public meal. Maybe Kurt would have held his hand in the hallway at school (in his dreams, he was braver than in sad, fierce reality) or at home when he told his father that he was--
Had Dave actually been ready to tell Kurt Hummel that he actually loved him? What was wrong with him?
Oh, what was the fucking point in torturing himself? That was all gone now. Everything, as always when it came to Dave Karofsky, had gone to shit.
Dave punched the steering wheel and screamed at the sneering voices in his head. Berry's accusing, Hudson's disgusted, Blaine's hurt and Kurt's hate. Round and round they went, poking at him, laughing. Knowing him.
Yeah, fuck them. Dave Karofsky didn't need any of them. His dad would be better off without him, too. They all would. All Dave did was hurt people, make a mess and fuck everything up. How many times had his own father warned him of this? How many times did he need to see disappointment crest in his father’s eyes to know that he was a Grade-A failure?
Well, not anymore, because Dave Karofsky was getting the hell out of dodge.
His cell began to ring on his dash, Will I Am and the gang with another nightly prediction. Fuck them, too. It was a fucking awful night and there certainly wasn’t anything to cry mazel tov about it. What the hell did they know?
Will I Am was pretty insistent though, and more repetitive than usual. Every time the machine picked up it would start again a minute later. Probably his dad, Dave was meant to be making dinner tonight. His dad had a lot of takeaways in his future, once Dave was gone. Then again, maybe it was Kurt? Maybe he wanted to talk. Needed help getting out of Lima. Maybe.
He snatched up the phone. "Kurt?"
"Wes, actually. Eager, aren't you? You only just left Mr. Hummel's."
"You're watching me?" Dave's eyes searched the deserted road.
"Can't take my eyes off you. I appreciate your lovely build," Wes said. "Tell me. What did you and young Mr. Hummel discuss? I'm afraid my ears were burning and it wasn't left for love but right, for spite."
"What the fuck are-- We didn't talk about anything, okay? I don't want to be involved. Do your own dirty work."
"Have you forgotten our little chat, Dave?” A disappointed sigh. “I thought we understood each other."
"Yeah? Tell the police that dad and I knew. I'm sure that it will help ease the life sentence." Dave decided to call his bluff. "Hey, wonder what happen to you in prison, Wes? With your fruity little ways I'm sure you'll be Queen Bitch in no time. Maybe we'll share a cell?"
“Where did you get that backbone, Dave?” The snideness was slipping from Wes’ voice. "Don't you dare threaten me--"
"Or what? Hmm?"
"Kurt. I can hurt Kurt, Dave. I can do it while you watch. And I'll do it slowly."
"You've been up all night watching Hammer Horror, haven't you?" Dave laughed down the phone. "Kurt's gone, you dick. What are you going to do? Go-Go Gadget hands?" Wes sucked in his breath tightly and Dave felt a swell of hope in his gut. "Yeah. That's right. And guess where I'm going? To the cops."
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Wes asked. "We both know that you are nothing but a two-bit, cowardly faggot. You haven't got it in you."
"Yeah, I am." Dave blinked slowly. "I am a coward. And I'm gay. You don't have any hold over me, Wes."
It was like a boulder off his chest, Dave felt like pulling over and crying. Instead he turned the wheel and made a left, heading for the Lima police station instead of the town's exit. He was going to do it. He was actually going to it!
"Is that so?" Wes sounded contained but a tremble of fury vibrated through the words.
"I'm going to tell them everything. I don't care what happens as long as you don't do this to anyone else. Hurt anyone else."
"Dave, your dad--"
"They'll believe me. I wandered in of my own accord, but Dalton? Big powerful company like that? They've got reason to lie."
“You’re not thinking straight, Dave. Just calm down and let’s discuss this like grown-ups.”
“Got you worried now, don’t I?” Dave made another lift, grinning as rounded a corner. “You thought I’d just roll over, didn’t you? Yeah, well fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” Wes hissed. "You have absolutely no idea who you are dealing with, little boy."
“Some slimy shit that is going to be buying himself a Rita Hayworth poster?”
"Oh, Dave." Wes' tone turned polite and crisp. "Did you know that there are over 5,000 road deaths in the US a year due to ‘distracted driving‘?" He continued in the pleasant voice. "And most of them are attributed to cell phone use?"
Dave frowned. "Wha-- What the fuck you talking about, limp dick?"
"Another factor is not paying due care and attention. I don't think I've seen you use your rear view once."
"I don't--" Dave stopped, his eyes lifting to the mirror, to the blue Mercedes following close behind, to the man who was looking back, cell phone pressed to an eager ear.
"Eyes on the road, Dave, sharp bend coming up."
The car started forward, plunging into the back and causing Dave to skid. What the- Dropping the cell and gripping the wheel, Dave's foot pressed down hard on the accelerator.
Fuck! Fuck! He had to get away from him. Why had he worked him up like that? He had to get to the station, to make it all alright, for Kurt. For his dad.
For Blaine.
The car behind sped up again and rear ended him, Dave gave out a moan. There was a straight patch just after this corner, if he could just get to that, if could just get to it.
The Mercedes was at his side now, ramming into the back and sending the wheels into a spin. Please God, please. Just let me get past this-
The racing car crushed into his side again and for one brief moment his and Wes’ eyes met. The bastard was a smiling. Smiling.
One split second. That’s all it took.
Dave lost control, his feet slammed to the brakes. The sound of rubber and grinding metal filling his world as the vehicle spun.
No, no, no!
It was too little too late. He went over the edge, sailing into the air and towards the rocks below. They rushed up to greet him like long lost siblings. Time seemed to slow, and Dave could swear he heard a laughing from the cell on the floor. But mostly all he heard was the rushing wind and his own screaming.
It's not fair, he thought, I never even got the chance to say I was sor--
*
Wes stood at the cliff edge, the flames from below heating his face.
Such a waste of a young life, he thought sadly. Personally, he blamed the parents.
He sighed heavily. His therapist was going to have a field day with this. Yet another outburst of anger. Of course when he told her about this, Dave would become an overturned table or a smashed mug. Wes wasn't an idiot.
Not that his superiors would agree. This was yet another screw up in the Anderson line. Wes was regretting ever picking up the damn phone to the Karofsky family. No way was he keeping his commission after this.
Taking his cell from his jacket he quickly dialled, holding it to his ear and fixing his face into a grin. Smile on the phone. Clients could hear that smile, it reassured them. Calmed them. Charmed them.
"Dalton Main Office," a voice answered. "How can I help you?"
"Put me through to Thad. Tell him it's Wes." The lackey didn't need telling twice, connecting Wes before he had even finished speaking.
"Wes. Tell me something good." Great. Now he'd have Chaka Khan in his head all night. "Is the situation sorted?"
"Karofsky B has been eradicated."
"Are you sure?" Thad asked. "My faith has been rocked of late."
"Ninety nine percent sure." A second explosion erupted below. "Make that one hundred. The kid's dead."
Thad grunted. "And the boy he was working? Hunter?"
"Hummel. I'll bring him in now. It's not going to be a smooth extraction. No time to make this slick. But-- I think Karofsky talked."
"Christ. This has been one shit storm after another!" Thad growled. "Bring him in. What about Karofsky A?"
"He won't talk. He doesn't know anything and he's about to find out about a tragic loss." Wes turned away from the wreckage and climbed into his car. "He isn't going to want to talk."
"Maybe he should have an accident, too. Strike maybe. Arrange it. Pills, rope, a great height. Anything."
"Fine," Wes nodded, fastening his belt. "It's done."
"One last tie up. Anderson. He's been gone a month. That's about enough of that."
Wes froze. "You're not suggesting--"
"I am. I've had enough of that damn cow town and I want all of my men out. We'll just have to take the risk." Thad cleared his throat. "Activate the chip."
Chapter 14
Author: mothergoddamn
Pairing/characters: Blaine/Kurt, Blaine/Karofsky, Kurt/Karofsky
Warning: SEE ABOVE. Non Con. Character death. Homophobic language. Violence.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Everyone knows that bond-servants get what they get. When Blaine enters the picture, it's harder to remember that. Slave AU.
Previous:
1/2/3/4/ 5/
6/ 7/ 8/9/ 10
11/ 12
You Belong to Me
Chapter 13
Dave stumbled from the house, his face aching from Blaine's blows and tears stinging his eyes.
Fine. Fine! I'll just get out myself. He flung open the door to his truck, trying to pretend the sobbing wasn't coming from him as he climbed in. Fuck them all, he'd tried hadn't he? At least he’d done that.
Pulling away from the house, he heaved his breaths from his chest, each one hurting more than the last.
Why did he have to be like this? If he wasn't, then his dad would never have brought home that damn catalogue. None of this would have happened.
But Kurt--
What about Kurt? Who cared what the resident queer thought of him? Like what, maybe if Dave had just gone up to him one day at school and asked him out and there'd never been a Blaine everything would be different? It would all be okay?
Maybe. Maybe Kurt would have smiled shyly and nodded. Dave would have been scared until he did that, but not because some severe cheek-boned fuck was threatening him but in case Kurt had said no. They'd have gone to Breadstix, maybe with that loud Jones girl, and had a nice public meal. Maybe Kurt would have held his hand in the hallway at school (in his dreams, he was braver than in sad, fierce reality) or at home when he told his father that he was--
Had Dave actually been ready to tell Kurt Hummel that he actually loved him? What was wrong with him?
Oh, what was the fucking point in torturing himself? That was all gone now. Everything, as always when it came to Dave Karofsky, had gone to shit.
Dave punched the steering wheel and screamed at the sneering voices in his head. Berry's accusing, Hudson's disgusted, Blaine's hurt and Kurt's hate. Round and round they went, poking at him, laughing. Knowing him.
Yeah, fuck them. Dave Karofsky didn't need any of them. His dad would be better off without him, too. They all would. All Dave did was hurt people, make a mess and fuck everything up. How many times had his own father warned him of this? How many times did he need to see disappointment crest in his father’s eyes to know that he was a Grade-A failure?
Well, not anymore, because Dave Karofsky was getting the hell out of dodge.
His cell began to ring on his dash, Will I Am and the gang with another nightly prediction. Fuck them, too. It was a fucking awful night and there certainly wasn’t anything to cry mazel tov about it. What the hell did they know?
Will I Am was pretty insistent though, and more repetitive than usual. Every time the machine picked up it would start again a minute later. Probably his dad, Dave was meant to be making dinner tonight. His dad had a lot of takeaways in his future, once Dave was gone. Then again, maybe it was Kurt? Maybe he wanted to talk. Needed help getting out of Lima. Maybe.
He snatched up the phone. "Kurt?"
"Wes, actually. Eager, aren't you? You only just left Mr. Hummel's."
"You're watching me?" Dave's eyes searched the deserted road.
"Can't take my eyes off you. I appreciate your lovely build," Wes said. "Tell me. What did you and young Mr. Hummel discuss? I'm afraid my ears were burning and it wasn't left for love but right, for spite."
"What the fuck are-- We didn't talk about anything, okay? I don't want to be involved. Do your own dirty work."
"Have you forgotten our little chat, Dave?” A disappointed sigh. “I thought we understood each other."
"Yeah? Tell the police that dad and I knew. I'm sure that it will help ease the life sentence." Dave decided to call his bluff. "Hey, wonder what happen to you in prison, Wes? With your fruity little ways I'm sure you'll be Queen Bitch in no time. Maybe we'll share a cell?"
“Where did you get that backbone, Dave?” The snideness was slipping from Wes’ voice. "Don't you dare threaten me--"
"Or what? Hmm?"
"Kurt. I can hurt Kurt, Dave. I can do it while you watch. And I'll do it slowly."
"You've been up all night watching Hammer Horror, haven't you?" Dave laughed down the phone. "Kurt's gone, you dick. What are you going to do? Go-Go Gadget hands?" Wes sucked in his breath tightly and Dave felt a swell of hope in his gut. "Yeah. That's right. And guess where I'm going? To the cops."
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Wes asked. "We both know that you are nothing but a two-bit, cowardly faggot. You haven't got it in you."
"Yeah, I am." Dave blinked slowly. "I am a coward. And I'm gay. You don't have any hold over me, Wes."
It was like a boulder off his chest, Dave felt like pulling over and crying. Instead he turned the wheel and made a left, heading for the Lima police station instead of the town's exit. He was going to do it. He was actually going to it!
"Is that so?" Wes sounded contained but a tremble of fury vibrated through the words.
"I'm going to tell them everything. I don't care what happens as long as you don't do this to anyone else. Hurt anyone else."
"Dave, your dad--"
"They'll believe me. I wandered in of my own accord, but Dalton? Big powerful company like that? They've got reason to lie."
“You’re not thinking straight, Dave. Just calm down and let’s discuss this like grown-ups.”
“Got you worried now, don’t I?” Dave made another lift, grinning as rounded a corner. “You thought I’d just roll over, didn’t you? Yeah, well fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” Wes hissed. "You have absolutely no idea who you are dealing with, little boy."
“Some slimy shit that is going to be buying himself a Rita Hayworth poster?”
"Oh, Dave." Wes' tone turned polite and crisp. "Did you know that there are over 5,000 road deaths in the US a year due to ‘distracted driving‘?" He continued in the pleasant voice. "And most of them are attributed to cell phone use?"
Dave frowned. "Wha-- What the fuck you talking about, limp dick?"
"Another factor is not paying due care and attention. I don't think I've seen you use your rear view once."
"I don't--" Dave stopped, his eyes lifting to the mirror, to the blue Mercedes following close behind, to the man who was looking back, cell phone pressed to an eager ear.
"Eyes on the road, Dave, sharp bend coming up."
The car started forward, plunging into the back and causing Dave to skid. What the- Dropping the cell and gripping the wheel, Dave's foot pressed down hard on the accelerator.
Fuck! Fuck! He had to get away from him. Why had he worked him up like that? He had to get to the station, to make it all alright, for Kurt. For his dad.
For Blaine.
The car behind sped up again and rear ended him, Dave gave out a moan. There was a straight patch just after this corner, if he could just get to that, if could just get to it.
The Mercedes was at his side now, ramming into the back and sending the wheels into a spin. Please God, please. Just let me get past this-
The racing car crushed into his side again and for one brief moment his and Wes’ eyes met. The bastard was a smiling. Smiling.
One split second. That’s all it took.
Dave lost control, his feet slammed to the brakes. The sound of rubber and grinding metal filling his world as the vehicle spun.
No, no, no!
It was too little too late. He went over the edge, sailing into the air and towards the rocks below. They rushed up to greet him like long lost siblings. Time seemed to slow, and Dave could swear he heard a laughing from the cell on the floor. But mostly all he heard was the rushing wind and his own screaming.
It's not fair, he thought, I never even got the chance to say I was sor--
*
Wes stood at the cliff edge, the flames from below heating his face.
Such a waste of a young life, he thought sadly. Personally, he blamed the parents.
He sighed heavily. His therapist was going to have a field day with this. Yet another outburst of anger. Of course when he told her about this, Dave would become an overturned table or a smashed mug. Wes wasn't an idiot.
Not that his superiors would agree. This was yet another screw up in the Anderson line. Wes was regretting ever picking up the damn phone to the Karofsky family. No way was he keeping his commission after this.
Taking his cell from his jacket he quickly dialled, holding it to his ear and fixing his face into a grin. Smile on the phone. Clients could hear that smile, it reassured them. Calmed them. Charmed them.
"Dalton Main Office," a voice answered. "How can I help you?"
"Put me through to Thad. Tell him it's Wes." The lackey didn't need telling twice, connecting Wes before he had even finished speaking.
"Wes. Tell me something good." Great. Now he'd have Chaka Khan in his head all night. "Is the situation sorted?"
"Karofsky B has been eradicated."
"Are you sure?" Thad asked. "My faith has been rocked of late."
"Ninety nine percent sure." A second explosion erupted below. "Make that one hundred. The kid's dead."
Thad grunted. "And the boy he was working? Hunter?"
"Hummel. I'll bring him in now. It's not going to be a smooth extraction. No time to make this slick. But-- I think Karofsky talked."
"Christ. This has been one shit storm after another!" Thad growled. "Bring him in. What about Karofsky A?"
"He won't talk. He doesn't know anything and he's about to find out about a tragic loss." Wes turned away from the wreckage and climbed into his car. "He isn't going to want to talk."
"Maybe he should have an accident, too. Strike maybe. Arrange it. Pills, rope, a great height. Anything."
"Fine," Wes nodded, fastening his belt. "It's done."
"One last tie up. Anderson. He's been gone a month. That's about enough of that."
Wes froze. "You're not suggesting--"
"I am. I've had enough of that damn cow town and I want all of my men out. We'll just have to take the risk." Thad cleared his throat. "Activate the chip."
Chapter 14