Kurt had no idea how he had gotten himself into this … predicament.
What he did know, though, was that this predicament was getting … hot.
Earlier today he had been in the choir room with April Rhodes, who had encouraged him to try wine for the first time – oh how it had burned going down! Now, seemingly just moments later, he found himself locked away naked in his bedroom with vintage muscle mags strewn about his bed.
At sixteen years of age, Kurt didn't have much experience with drinking (okay, he admits to himself, he really has no experience with drinking). The only time he remembers having had a drop of alcohol was when he was seven years old and snuck a tiny taste of his mother's New Year's Eve champagne (which he made sour faces at, then drowned the aftertaste with grape Kool-Aid).
The Chablis was different. Although it smelled like his Aunt Mildred and tasted like burning, it only took a couple sips to make him warm on the inside. His body felt less tense and his inhibitions were more free - unguarded.
The wine wasn't even the best thing though. April had introduced him to an array of magazines, of images and pictures which proved that (if he ever had any doubt, which he recently discovered that he hadn't) he was one hundred percent gay.
He'd been in his room for a couple of hours now, knowing his dad would be working late at the garage tonight. With that in mind, he had drank a lot more than he had intended and he had perused the magazines a lot more than what might be considered healthy.
The truth was he couldn't stop. Kurt had always been reserved, shy, careful, and really confused about his body and what types of things turned him on. He never allowed himself to really think about those things – he was afraid to. He was scared of where it could lead him. He didn't want anyone to find out what exactly did turn him on because the repercussions would be very hard to bear. This was Lima after all, not San Francisco.
But now, with the magazines spread open to pages upon pages of men wearing very little, showing off bulging muscles, including that muscle, Kurt was opening himself up to a world of feelings and emotions, that up until recently, had been stifled and harboured.
Kurt was a romantic at heart. Sex to him was something that he didn't really think about except for in his dreams - Kurt was also a dreamer.
When he allowed it, his heart would fill with images of the man he would hopefully one day meet and eventually marry – his very own Prince Charming, his soulmate, whoever he may turn out to be.
If Kurt hadn't been under the influence of so much alcohol, the muscle mag images may have seemed cold to him – detached, even downright lewd. But the reality was that he did have a lot of alcohol in his system and seeing the bulging bodies of random men posing in alluring positions did things to Kurt that he didn't know what to do with.
He was hard for one thing, extremely so. He was sweaty in his bed, so hot that he had to flip back the blankets. His eyes were owlish, his chest rose with quickened breaths, and his tongue slipped out to coat his dry lips, tasting sweet remnants of the wine, as he paged through the images.
He drank down the last shot of alcohol, placing April's now empty thermos on his nightstand. The liquor would give him "all the courage you need to be yourself," April had told him. Kurt discovered that she was right.
He suddenly felt more comfortable in his own skin than he ever had. Kurt knew it was the alcohol working through him but he was already too far gone to care or to even try to analyze it. He liked feeling comfortable with himself. He liked how on edge he was. He liked how his body was responding. It wasn't wrong, not when it felt so right.
With that thought floating in his mind, Kurt finally let go.
His hand reached down. It wrapped around his flushed erection and with a flick of his wrist he began the journey to self-discovery, self-fulfillment, self-gratification, self-indulgence, and self-love.
He fell back onto his pillows and closed his eyes. He swore he could feel the alcohol work its way through every fibre of his being. He felt like he was floating, carried by a spring breeze. In his mind he landed gently in a dewy meadow of lilac and finally … finally … he realized that he had arrived.
Kurt hoped with all his heart that this sexual awakening would eventually grow into something he would be able to offer his Prince one day.
Until then, this would have to do.
And it did nicely, very nicely indeed.