(no subject)
Title: You Belong to Me (1/?)
Author: mothergoddamn
Pairing/characters: Blaine/Kurt, Blaine/Karofsky, Kurt/Karofsky
Warning: SEE ABOVE. Non Con. Set before 2x06
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:
Chapter 1
You Belong to Me
Chapter 2
"You loved it," he taunted. "Just admit it."
Kurt rolled his eyes and slammed the locker shut. "I tolerated it. It was something I allowed to happen to me. I did not, repeat, did not love it."
"You got all excited! You grabbed Puck's arm." Finn frowned. "Then he got all excited. Which was weird."
"It was loud. I jumped." Kurt smoothed down an imaginary stray hair. "That's all."
"You," Finn leaned in close. "--whooped."
"I did not like your silly boys film, okay?" Kurt snapped as Mercedes joined them, encircling her arm with his. "Finn is spreading vile and malicious lies about me."
"Oh! Gimme!"
"Okay, last night Kurt came with me and Puck to see, wait for it, The Fast and the Furious. No, Fast and Furious. Wait, is it Fast Furious? Too Fast and Too Furious? Faster and Furio-"
"Stop!" Kurt hit his shoulder with the back of his hand. "The new one. Just say that."
"Thanks, dude. It was like a loop I was stuck in or something. Anyway, he loved it."
"I didn't!"
"Really?" Finn grinned. "Then you won't want to come round to Puck's for a movie marathon of the others, will you?"
Kurt studied his nails and shrugged. "When-- When are you thinking of having it?"
"Aha!" Finn pointed his finger in the air and gave it a twirl. "Guilty! I bet you're the one who keeps moving my Jason Statham DVD's, too!"
"Hello, Hudson!" A cheery voice called out. "Hey, Hummel! Mercedes, hope you're well."
"Hey, Karofsky," they all replied absently, turning back to each other as he passed by.
"And I bet you're the one who--" Finn stopped and gave his head a shake. "Did-- did Karofsky just smile at us?"
"Was he being sarcastic?" Mercedes asked. "Can you even say hello sarcastically?"
"Hellooo, hello. He-lloo." Finn shook his head. "Helloooo."
"Stop trying, Finn," Kurt muttered. He looked at the boy's retreating back and then at the locker behind him. Why wasn't his face in it?
"Is he skipping?" Finn asked. "Oh, my God. Look! He is helping Jacob pick up his books!"
"He didn't even push them out of his hands first," Mercedes said. "And yesterday, he loaned Artie a pencil and he didn't try to stab him with it."
Finn smiled slowly. "I bet he has finally got himself a girlfriend. Maybe that's all he needed. Someone to let off steam with. Ever noticed that single people are usually total jerks?"
Kurt and Mercedes stared back.
"Not that-- I mean. I wasn't saying-- I've gotta go!" Finn gave Kurt a manly punch in the shoulder that nearly put him through the metal behind him. "Sorry! Sorry!"
"Leave this place!" Kurt hissed, brushing down at his jacket. He turned back to Karofsky as Finn left them, and Mercedes began to tell him about her night. He looked different somehow, and not just because he didn't have a classmate hanging off his knuckles.
As if sensing his gaze, Karofsky turned round and stared straight at Kurt. And winked.
Kurt couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine.
*
Dave bit back a moan, as he pushed his head back into the pillow. What was this now? Six hours? He really needed to get started on the French Revolution essay but Blaine was proving too much of a distraction. Fuck Robespierre.
Dave thrust up, his thumbs denting deep into Blaine's hips. His dad was really fucking pissed at him for how much time he was spending in his room. It was like the summer when he first discovered the delights of his right hand. The timing had clashed with the release of High School Musical, so Dave hadn't seen daylight for about a year.
Actually, fuck Zac Efron, this was a thousand times better. It would be just a tad better if the boy currently bouncing on his cock wasn't completely flaccid, with his eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched into fists at his side. Dave hated that. The limp dick he could live with, but he didn't like that the kid wouldn't even look at him when they did it. It made him feel like he was doing something wrong.
Dave gritted his teeth as his own dick began to soften in Blaine's ass. Closing his eyes he tried to call back some of their previous positions. To concentrate on the small, breathy noises that would tumble from Blaine's lips as he pumped himself up and down. Think about the trickles of sweat that would often run down Blaine's chest and how when Dave would lean forward to lick them away, the angle would do something to the boy above and he'd let a gasp or a groan loose. It was the only time Blaine's cock would show an interest and made Dave want to do it again. To make him feel good.
Two things stopped him. One, that was a pretty gay thing to do and Dave wasn't gay. Two, the handbook told him not to. Bond-servants weren't supposed to be equal. Their mutual pleasure wasn't needed and most certainly wasn't encouraged. Because, apparently, that led to feelings. The last thing a owner wanted was to start thinking about them as anything other than an object. Blaine was nothing more than a really big sock. That's all.
The headboard began to batter hard against the wall, the sound mingling with the sound of skin slapping skin. Dave pushed up harder, and rose up with one hand behind him on the bed and the other encircling Blaine's waist. He dragged him forward and buried his face into the boy's chest. Biting and sucking every section of skin his mouth could reach. Blaine, unbalanced, gasped and settled his hands on Dave's shoulders. Dave barely registered it, concentrating on hitting home. The angle was, to be honest, worse. He'd slipped out of Blaine a little and his public hair was caught on, well fucking something, but Dave was too close to care. Even when Blaine's nails began to dig into Dave's skin painfully he drilled on.
He needed deeper. He needed tighter.
He practically flung Blaine through the air and into the mattress, never breaking contact and pounding even harder into him, his face buried into his neck mouthing and nipping. Sure enough to leave marks.
"Please!" Blaine gasped out. The first word he had spoken in the two weeks he'd been there. "Please."
They took Dave surprise and with a yelp, he was coming and coming hard. He rode out the shock waves
He winced as he pulled himself out, wrinkling his nose at the mess. Least a sock contained all that crap.
"That was good." He told him. The handbook said compliments were a nice touch. "Well done."
Blaine nodded and moved off the bed to his space on the floor. Dave rubbed at his neck. Should he give him a punch in the shoulder or something? Ruffle his hair? He hated this bit. After. He always felt like some sort of bad guy.
"It's not my fault, you know!" he said before he could stop himself. "You put yourself here. There's no need to make me feel like shit."
Because if he was truthful, deep down, and no matter how gay it was, it be nice if Blaine would act like he had liked it. Just once.
Receiving no reaction from Blaine, Dave stepped over him and opened the window. His dad was right. It smelled like a bleach factory in here of late.
"I'm going for a shower. I'll bathe you after, yeah?"
Blaine nodded. Dave opened his mouth, snapping it shut again when nothing came to mind. The kid didn't care. What was the point? He was a thing. A vibrator with eyebrows. Why waste breath on him?
Wrapping a towel over his arm, Dave sniffed the air with a grimace. Fuck. God knew why Rhianna loved the smell of it so much.
*
Kurt adjusted the volume on his car stereo, wincing as Paramore filled the car. That was it. Finn was banned from this vehicle for life. For life.
Ejecting the CD he threw it behind him into the back, hoping that rattle was something sharp and evil scratching the disc. He replaced it with his Legally Blonde< album and began to hum along to the opening number. It was kind of awful, but he owed it to the world to attempt it at least six times before denouncing it as a musical abomination. With a shudder he recalled his bootleg of the Gone With the Wind show. And they wondered why he didn't believe in God.
Omigod
Omigod, you guys!
Looks like Elle's gonna win the prize
If there ever was a perfect couple, this one qualifies
Omigod, you guys!
Omigod, this is happening
Our own homecoming queen and king
Finally she'll be trying on a huge engagement ring for size
Omigod, you guys!
Okay. This wasn't so bad! It was getting kind of catchy! In fact it was, wait it was skipping!
With a frustrated sigh, he popped out the CD and inspected the damage. There was some sort of red, sticky substance covering the disc in the shape of thumb prints. Gigantic, moronic thumb prints. Finn! And that was clearly tomato sauce! It was bad enough that Kurt was having to go on this evening dash for supplies, since Finn had managed to drink his own weight in milk yet again, but this was something else. God forbid he actually treat people’s property with any respect. This was the final straw! Kurt thought as he searched in the glove box for a replacement. He had a good mind to--
THUD.
Kurt snapped his head up to see a blur of pink flying up and over his windscreen, his heels hit the brakes and he screamed along with them.
No! No! No! He had not just hit someone. Please don't let him have just hit someone. With shaky hands he unbuckled his belt, opened the door and slid out.
"Hello?" he called to the back of the car, approaching gingerly. "Anyone there?"
Please don't be dead. Please don't let him have hurt anyone.
Kurt glanced round but the neighbourhood was quiet. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. Then with a burst of adrenaline he completed the distance to the back of the car.
Holding his breath, he opened his eyes. And gasped in relief.
Oh, thank God! Thank God. There was no one there. Kurt ducked down and checked under the car. Clear! Yes!
But if he hadn't hit anyone what had that noise been? And the flash of flesh colour that had flew past his vision. It must have been something.
Kurt tapped against his lips as he thought. "Shh," he told the car as it rev'ed into life, giving it a little pat.
A grocery bag? No, it wouldn't have made that noise. An animal? Then why no blood or body? Maybe a--
REV'ED INTO LIFE?
Damnit! The roadkill was stealing his car!
Kurt spun round and ran back to the open door, not even thinking about who could be waiting in the seat.
"What do you think--" The words died in his throat as the naked boy turned to look at him. "What on Earth?"
The boy made a feeble shove at Kurt's chest and began to bang down on the pedals weakly. The car gave a groan and shuddered. Kurt leaned across, dashing for the keys, ignoring the psycho who was trying to push him from the car.
"It's a manual, you ass," Kurt snapped as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Now--," Kurt's voice faltered as stranger turned his brown eyes towards him, the intensity in his gaze nearly knocked him from his feet. "Now get out of my car."
The boy mumbled and Kurt tried to keep his eyes trained to his face, a blush covering his own. "Please."
"Sorry?" Against his better judgement, Kurt leant forward.
"Please," he repeated. He looked up and stared into Kurt's eyes, as liquid filled his. "Help?"
For a moment Kurt could only stare wordlessly back. Turning slowly, his hands tight on the doorframe, Kurt looked behind him to the bush that the bizarre boy had leaped from. Distantly he could hear men shouting, angry men.
"You're being chased?" Kurt asked glancing back. Of course. They must have taken his clothes. Some nasty prank by a bunch of kids twice this one's size, probably.
The boy nodded slowly and shifted a panicked stare over Kurt's shoulder. "Help," he said again.
Kurt licked his lips. The voices were nearing and any moment they'd be on them. But Kurt couldn't just give a naked hitch-hiker a ride, he had just tried to steal his car for goodness sake!
"I don't think--" Kurt's arm was grabbed and he was pulled forward. A pair of brown eyes stared into his own. Kurt had never seen such terror or sadness in anyone. Not ever.
"Please. Help."
Kurt knew then that he couldn't leave him. Even if he was a nude Bundy, he needed help. He couldn't leave the boy to the force that was coming from behind him.
"Move over! Quick!" Kurt climbed up as the boy scrambled over to the passenger seat and, good God, Kurt had just had this upholstery dry cleaned. "Okay, you be Paul Walker." Kurt twisted the key into the ignition and put the car into gear. "I'm Vin Diesel."
Chapter 3
Author: mothergoddamn
Pairing/characters: Blaine/Kurt, Blaine/Karofsky, Kurt/Karofsky
Warning: SEE ABOVE. Non Con. Set before 2x06
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:
Chapter 1
You Belong to Me
Chapter 2
"You loved it," he taunted. "Just admit it."
Kurt rolled his eyes and slammed the locker shut. "I tolerated it. It was something I allowed to happen to me. I did not, repeat, did not love it."
"You got all excited! You grabbed Puck's arm." Finn frowned. "Then he got all excited. Which was weird."
"It was loud. I jumped." Kurt smoothed down an imaginary stray hair. "That's all."
"You," Finn leaned in close. "--whooped."
"I did not like your silly boys film, okay?" Kurt snapped as Mercedes joined them, encircling her arm with his. "Finn is spreading vile and malicious lies about me."
"Oh! Gimme!"
"Okay, last night Kurt came with me and Puck to see, wait for it, The Fast and the Furious. No, Fast and Furious. Wait, is it Fast Furious? Too Fast and Too Furious? Faster and Furio-"
"Stop!" Kurt hit his shoulder with the back of his hand. "The new one. Just say that."
"Thanks, dude. It was like a loop I was stuck in or something. Anyway, he loved it."
"I didn't!"
"Really?" Finn grinned. "Then you won't want to come round to Puck's for a movie marathon of the others, will you?"
Kurt studied his nails and shrugged. "When-- When are you thinking of having it?"
"Aha!" Finn pointed his finger in the air and gave it a twirl. "Guilty! I bet you're the one who keeps moving my Jason Statham DVD's, too!"
"Hello, Hudson!" A cheery voice called out. "Hey, Hummel! Mercedes, hope you're well."
"Hey, Karofsky," they all replied absently, turning back to each other as he passed by.
"And I bet you're the one who--" Finn stopped and gave his head a shake. "Did-- did Karofsky just smile at us?"
"Was he being sarcastic?" Mercedes asked. "Can you even say hello sarcastically?"
"Hellooo, hello. He-lloo." Finn shook his head. "Helloooo."
"Stop trying, Finn," Kurt muttered. He looked at the boy's retreating back and then at the locker behind him. Why wasn't his face in it?
"Is he skipping?" Finn asked. "Oh, my God. Look! He is helping Jacob pick up his books!"
"He didn't even push them out of his hands first," Mercedes said. "And yesterday, he loaned Artie a pencil and he didn't try to stab him with it."
Finn smiled slowly. "I bet he has finally got himself a girlfriend. Maybe that's all he needed. Someone to let off steam with. Ever noticed that single people are usually total jerks?"
Kurt and Mercedes stared back.
"Not that-- I mean. I wasn't saying-- I've gotta go!" Finn gave Kurt a manly punch in the shoulder that nearly put him through the metal behind him. "Sorry! Sorry!"
"Leave this place!" Kurt hissed, brushing down at his jacket. He turned back to Karofsky as Finn left them, and Mercedes began to tell him about her night. He looked different somehow, and not just because he didn't have a classmate hanging off his knuckles.
As if sensing his gaze, Karofsky turned round and stared straight at Kurt. And winked.
Kurt couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine.
*
Dave bit back a moan, as he pushed his head back into the pillow. What was this now? Six hours? He really needed to get started on the French Revolution essay but Blaine was proving too much of a distraction. Fuck Robespierre.
Dave thrust up, his thumbs denting deep into Blaine's hips. His dad was really fucking pissed at him for how much time he was spending in his room. It was like the summer when he first discovered the delights of his right hand. The timing had clashed with the release of High School Musical, so Dave hadn't seen daylight for about a year.
Actually, fuck Zac Efron, this was a thousand times better. It would be just a tad better if the boy currently bouncing on his cock wasn't completely flaccid, with his eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched into fists at his side. Dave hated that. The limp dick he could live with, but he didn't like that the kid wouldn't even look at him when they did it. It made him feel like he was doing something wrong.
Dave gritted his teeth as his own dick began to soften in Blaine's ass. Closing his eyes he tried to call back some of their previous positions. To concentrate on the small, breathy noises that would tumble from Blaine's lips as he pumped himself up and down. Think about the trickles of sweat that would often run down Blaine's chest and how when Dave would lean forward to lick them away, the angle would do something to the boy above and he'd let a gasp or a groan loose. It was the only time Blaine's cock would show an interest and made Dave want to do it again. To make him feel good.
Two things stopped him. One, that was a pretty gay thing to do and Dave wasn't gay. Two, the handbook told him not to. Bond-servants weren't supposed to be equal. Their mutual pleasure wasn't needed and most certainly wasn't encouraged. Because, apparently, that led to feelings. The last thing a owner wanted was to start thinking about them as anything other than an object. Blaine was nothing more than a really big sock. That's all.
The headboard began to batter hard against the wall, the sound mingling with the sound of skin slapping skin. Dave pushed up harder, and rose up with one hand behind him on the bed and the other encircling Blaine's waist. He dragged him forward and buried his face into the boy's chest. Biting and sucking every section of skin his mouth could reach. Blaine, unbalanced, gasped and settled his hands on Dave's shoulders. Dave barely registered it, concentrating on hitting home. The angle was, to be honest, worse. He'd slipped out of Blaine a little and his public hair was caught on, well fucking something, but Dave was too close to care. Even when Blaine's nails began to dig into Dave's skin painfully he drilled on.
He needed deeper. He needed tighter.
He practically flung Blaine through the air and into the mattress, never breaking contact and pounding even harder into him, his face buried into his neck mouthing and nipping. Sure enough to leave marks.
"Please!" Blaine gasped out. The first word he had spoken in the two weeks he'd been there. "Please."
They took Dave surprise and with a yelp, he was coming and coming hard. He rode out the shock waves
He winced as he pulled himself out, wrinkling his nose at the mess. Least a sock contained all that crap.
"That was good." He told him. The handbook said compliments were a nice touch. "Well done."
Blaine nodded and moved off the bed to his space on the floor. Dave rubbed at his neck. Should he give him a punch in the shoulder or something? Ruffle his hair? He hated this bit. After. He always felt like some sort of bad guy.
"It's not my fault, you know!" he said before he could stop himself. "You put yourself here. There's no need to make me feel like shit."
Because if he was truthful, deep down, and no matter how gay it was, it be nice if Blaine would act like he had liked it. Just once.
Receiving no reaction from Blaine, Dave stepped over him and opened the window. His dad was right. It smelled like a bleach factory in here of late.
"I'm going for a shower. I'll bathe you after, yeah?"
Blaine nodded. Dave opened his mouth, snapping it shut again when nothing came to mind. The kid didn't care. What was the point? He was a thing. A vibrator with eyebrows. Why waste breath on him?
Wrapping a towel over his arm, Dave sniffed the air with a grimace. Fuck. God knew why Rhianna loved the smell of it so much.
*
Kurt adjusted the volume on his car stereo, wincing as Paramore filled the car. That was it. Finn was banned from this vehicle for life. For life.
Ejecting the CD he threw it behind him into the back, hoping that rattle was something sharp and evil scratching the disc. He replaced it with his Legally Blonde< album and began to hum along to the opening number. It was kind of awful, but he owed it to the world to attempt it at least six times before denouncing it as a musical abomination. With a shudder he recalled his bootleg of the Gone With the Wind show. And they wondered why he didn't believe in God.
Omigod
Omigod, you guys!
Looks like Elle's gonna win the prize
If there ever was a perfect couple, this one qualifies
Omigod, you guys!
Omigod, this is happening
Our own homecoming queen and king
Finally she'll be trying on a huge engagement ring for size
Omigod, you guys!
Okay. This wasn't so bad! It was getting kind of catchy! In fact it was, wait it was skipping!
With a frustrated sigh, he popped out the CD and inspected the damage. There was some sort of red, sticky substance covering the disc in the shape of thumb prints. Gigantic, moronic thumb prints. Finn! And that was clearly tomato sauce! It was bad enough that Kurt was having to go on this evening dash for supplies, since Finn had managed to drink his own weight in milk yet again, but this was something else. God forbid he actually treat people’s property with any respect. This was the final straw! Kurt thought as he searched in the glove box for a replacement. He had a good mind to--
THUD.
Kurt snapped his head up to see a blur of pink flying up and over his windscreen, his heels hit the brakes and he screamed along with them.
No! No! No! He had not just hit someone. Please don't let him have just hit someone. With shaky hands he unbuckled his belt, opened the door and slid out.
"Hello?" he called to the back of the car, approaching gingerly. "Anyone there?"
Please don't be dead. Please don't let him have hurt anyone.
Kurt glanced round but the neighbourhood was quiet. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. Then with a burst of adrenaline he completed the distance to the back of the car.
Holding his breath, he opened his eyes. And gasped in relief.
Oh, thank God! Thank God. There was no one there. Kurt ducked down and checked under the car. Clear! Yes!
But if he hadn't hit anyone what had that noise been? And the flash of flesh colour that had flew past his vision. It must have been something.
Kurt tapped against his lips as he thought. "Shh," he told the car as it rev'ed into life, giving it a little pat.
A grocery bag? No, it wouldn't have made that noise. An animal? Then why no blood or body? Maybe a--
REV'ED INTO LIFE?
Damnit! The roadkill was stealing his car!
Kurt spun round and ran back to the open door, not even thinking about who could be waiting in the seat.
"What do you think--" The words died in his throat as the naked boy turned to look at him. "What on Earth?"
The boy made a feeble shove at Kurt's chest and began to bang down on the pedals weakly. The car gave a groan and shuddered. Kurt leaned across, dashing for the keys, ignoring the psycho who was trying to push him from the car.
"It's a manual, you ass," Kurt snapped as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Now--," Kurt's voice faltered as stranger turned his brown eyes towards him, the intensity in his gaze nearly knocked him from his feet. "Now get out of my car."
The boy mumbled and Kurt tried to keep his eyes trained to his face, a blush covering his own. "Please."
"Sorry?" Against his better judgement, Kurt leant forward.
"Please," he repeated. He looked up and stared into Kurt's eyes, as liquid filled his. "Help?"
For a moment Kurt could only stare wordlessly back. Turning slowly, his hands tight on the doorframe, Kurt looked behind him to the bush that the bizarre boy had leaped from. Distantly he could hear men shouting, angry men.
"You're being chased?" Kurt asked glancing back. Of course. They must have taken his clothes. Some nasty prank by a bunch of kids twice this one's size, probably.
The boy nodded slowly and shifted a panicked stare over Kurt's shoulder. "Help," he said again.
Kurt licked his lips. The voices were nearing and any moment they'd be on them. But Kurt couldn't just give a naked hitch-hiker a ride, he had just tried to steal his car for goodness sake!
"I don't think--" Kurt's arm was grabbed and he was pulled forward. A pair of brown eyes stared into his own. Kurt had never seen such terror or sadness in anyone. Not ever.
"Please. Help."
Kurt knew then that he couldn't leave him. Even if he was a nude Bundy, he needed help. He couldn't leave the boy to the force that was coming from behind him.
"Move over! Quick!" Kurt climbed up as the boy scrambled over to the passenger seat and, good God, Kurt had just had this upholstery dry cleaned. "Okay, you be Paul Walker." Kurt twisted the key into the ignition and put the car into gear. "I'm Vin Diesel."
Chapter 3