Media: Fic
Title: I'll Remember You Always (1/?)
Word count:~3,200 for this chapter
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: (for the whole story) AU, both top!Kurt and bottom!Kurt, language, frottage; handjobs; blowjobs; face-fucking; fingering; barebacking; sex; smut, you know how it works!
Disclaimer: Glee is a propriety of Fox Studios and unfortunately, I am not Fox Studios.

Summary: Kurt awakens in a house that isn't his, in a bed that isn't his, with a boyfriend that definitely isn't his, to discover he has a head trauma and no memory of the previous year. While he still has a preference for tall jocks that fear mailmen and date his best friends, Kurt can't help but react to his "new" boyfriend's touches... Said boyfriend who knows his body so well and who won't let him go.

Inspired by the manga "Dear Myself".

A/N: I've started that fic long ago and completely forgot it existed until two days ago. Yeah, I have memory problems too, apparently.
Wait... Who is this gorgeous man in my bed with the triangular eyebrows?

It lasted less than a minute. At first, he gathered something smooth blocking his steps and he felt like the floor was moving to a vertical position. The ground hit his chest and he couldn't breathe for a few seconds. When the cold air made its way back into his lungs, he thought that it was going to be all right, until the pressure of someone's foot on his skull pushed him face down on the hard concrete. The shock resonated though his whole body. He was tasting blood and he knew it wasn't only from his broken front tooth. The rock was already starting to feel wet beneath his forehead. He turned his head sideways, fighting for his eyes to stay open, as his attacker continued to send violent kicks into his sides. The blows stopped for a few seconds, but the thought that the other man had come to an end didn't even cross his mind; he knew the aggressor wouldn't leave until he was dead.

Why hadn't he accepted when Mercedes proposed to give him a ride?

He felt weight on his lower back as the bully sat on him and entangled his fingers in his hair. His head hit the floor once, twice and after the third time, he knew that it was over.

He didn't recall being pulled into any car, or transported on anybody's back, but there was no way he was still in that street. He laid his painful head on the mellow mattress he had no souvenir of getting on and tried to clear his mind. He let out a loud breathy moan.

All the pain in his body was concentrated in his sulk. He felt like the totality of his blood was pulsing in his brain and the bitter taste in his mouth left him dizzy. Oddly, it was about the only uneasiness he resented as the rest of his body was feeling pretty comfortable. With fast movements that should have had been a lot more painful, he used his arms to push himself into a sitting position. The action of opening his eyes, on the other hand, was a real challenge and he had to gather all his energy into the motion. He was blinded by the very bright light of the room for a few seconds before he was able to absorb his surroundings. He had to admit his kidnapper had a lot of taste; he had been forced into a very nicely decorated bedroom. The cream-colored walls were totally at his fancy and he silently confessed that he had contemplated changing the cold blue that was covering the basement of his house to a warmer and more inviting shade.

While the boy could have sat there and reviewed the designing of the bedroom for hours, he rapidly came back to his sense: the simple fact that he was indeed laying on a bed made him worry out of his mind. He urgently glanced down and sighed in relief when he got the confirmation that he was not naked. He was, in fact, clothed with what seemed to be a royal blue cashmere cardigan, black skin fitting jeans, and clung to his torso was a mist gray cotton gingham shirt that could not be mistaken for anything but Burberry. He was even wearing laced grunge boots that hugged his legs to his knees, and the logos on the sides told him that they were nothing else than Jeffrey Campbell. His kidnapper had dressed him like a freaking rock star.

He turned his legs to one side of the tall queen-sized bed and pushed himself on his feet. He had to find a way to escape that bedroom he had been locked in. He ran to the nearest window, pulled the chocolate-brown curtains open and immediately evaluated the locks. Then he stopped when he noticed the view before his eyes.

There was no dark alley or a pile of corpses on the other side of the glass. The house he was in seemed to be situated in a wealthy neighborhood and he could see children running around the street. The surprise left him star struck for a few seconds before he came back to his senses and screamed for help. A young girl in a purple dress looked at him like he had gone mad but other than that nobody seemed to react. He kept pleading for a few minutes before he gave up and decided that his actions would do nothing but give a reason for small children to judge him. He stepped away from his spot near the window.

He backed off to sit on the bed and sighed in defeat. Even if it seemed like his abductor had treated him well, he felt like he was missing out on something really important. He wondered for how long he had been sleeping, considering the fact that the sun had just set before he had been attacked. His healed body made him feel like it had been a while, at least a few days. While it would be impossible that he had been sleeping the whole time, he could have been unconscious, or drugged... What if he had just forgotten the past few days? Hence the expensive clothes... So many terrible things could have had happened... Had he been raped? Was that why he swore he could feel a slight burn in his lower back? Suddenly, the panic made his body a lot less at ease.

He jumped off the bed once again and started to walk around the room nervously. With every step he took, he felt the ache more and tears made their way to his eyes. He couldn't believe that when all his life no guy had ever even glanced his way, he had now been forced into losing his virginity to a homophobic bully. What if his kidnapper was a closeted homosexual who was looking for a good time and didn't want anybody to know? What if he had just became the man's sexual slave?

He needed to get out of here. There was no way he was letting the pervert near him ever again. But before that, he needed to discover his attacker's name, to find something that could identify him. He could not let him run free. He had to have him arrested.

There was nothing but books in the shelves that covered a complete wall and even if he had to admit all the novels in there were of his taste, he was really not looking for literature at this very moment. He crossed the room and knelt in front of the nightstand. In the first drawer, he found nothing but a small bottle of what seemed like lube, of the brand Durex Play, and a box of Trojan condoms. The large ones. Kurt shivered at what seemed to confirm his doubts. At least, they had been protected...

The bottom drawer was filled with fashion magazines of all sorts. That realization explained a lot. The well-chosen clothes he was wearing didn't seem so odd anymore. What seemed odd, on the other hand, was that he didn't recognize any of the cover of the magazines in front of him. And who was he to forget the front page of Vogue? I must have been hit really hard, he thought.

He was closing the second drawer when a picture frame on top of the night table caught his attention. He rapidly stretched his arm and brought it closer. He had been looking for his aggressor's identity for long minutes when his portrait had been in front of him the whole time.

He had to recognize the man was not bad looking. The dark, curly hair and triangular eyebrows didn't do it too much for him, but he could have been much worse, especially considering that the guy had kidnapped him. It was not like it would have been very difficult for the man to get laid.

His reflections were interrupted by a melody, a catchy techno melody that suddenly came out of nowhere. While he seemed to have issues with his memory, he would have had remembered this voice within millions. Why had he never heard this song? He knew Lady Gaga had composed a lot of singles in the past that he didn't know about but he had a feeling this one would have been popular enough to show on top of his iTunes Store selections. The poor quality of the tune was without a doubt erupting from somewhere in the room and in a jolt he realized it was probably the ring tone of a mobile phone. He needed to find that phone. It was his only way out.

The song seemed to come from one of the beige doors. He ran to it, praying that it wouldn't be locked, and turned the knob. A creaking noise erupted from the casing and at the same moment, the melody came to an end. But Kurt wasn't so bothered by it. He was too busy being astonished by the contents of the enormous walk-in. It was like stepping in the middle of your biggest dream: he could swear half of these clothes were either Alexander McQueen or Marc Jacobs. He couldn't believe his teary eyes as he ran his sweaty hands over the different types of expensive materials. He'd do anything to own half of these and if for that he needed to be molested by a guy with way too much gel in his hair, he would definitely stay.

His train of thoughts was abruptly stopped by a voice he recognized very well. It came from the left wall and since Kurt didn't distinguish any other voice, he guessed the man was talking on the phone. Was it possible that Finn was the kidnapper? After he had defended him in a Lady Gaga costume the week before, they had been in pretty good terms. He wouldn't have knocked him to near death, would he have?

No, it was absolutely impossible: Finn had had a multiplicity of occasions to have him in his bed and he had always refused his advances. There was no way he would have had beaten him up in order to have his way with him. Not to forget Finn had no taste in fashion at all, let alone in home staging.

Maybe Finn was here to save him? It was possible, he was his step-brother after all. At that thought, he started knocking on the wall desperately and shouting for help. He finally had a chance to get out of there and with some luck, the quarterback would help him steal the luxurious outfits.

He sighed in relief as a few minutes later, Finn burst in the bedroom.

"Dude, you're up!" he said with voice full of guilt. "I am so, so sorry Kurt, I promise I will never let my dirty socks laying around the house again, I swear I panicked really hard when you passed out, please forgive me!"

Kurt put on his best bitch-face and blinked at the taller boy. "I don't care if you don't clean your socks, Finn, just help me get out of here!"

"What? Get out of where?" the jock replied, seeming confused. "Are you okay, Kurt?"

The boy saw red: he was really eager to leave this scary place and there Finn was, relaxed back on the door frame and discussing Kurt's health. He felt like kicking his brother in the shins.

"No, I am not okay, Finn!" Kurt shouted, pissed. "I was just kidnapped and fucked in the ass!"

Finn's face went pale. "That's way too much information, man!" he answered as he stepped back out of the room. "I don't wanna know about Blaine and yours' sex life!"

Kurt froze as Finn disappeared from his view. He was leaving him to his kidnapper. Was this a bad joke? One of the glee club's messed up plan he wasn't aware off? Surely they hadn't attacked him? They were his friends, or were they really? He sat on the bed in confusion. This situation didn't make sense at all. He pinched the skin of his wrist and got the confirmation he was dreading: he wasn't dreaming.

At least now, the door of the bedroom wasn't locked anymore. Silent tears made their way down his cheeks as he realized it probably had been unlocked the whole time. The house was silent again, but he had no wish of venturing to the other rooms. He was so confused. He laid his back on the mattress, wishing he could fell into oblivion and wake up to a better reality.

When he came back to his sense, the first thing he felt was tension in his legs. It was the first time he ever woke up to find his muscles already working and in his sleepy state, he realized his tights were indeed stretched, open and trapping what seemed to be another person's waist with force. Same things went for his arms: they were wound tightly around that person's neck. Then he started to discern a wet and warm mouth on his own neck. The lips were running softly on one side, kissing and sucking at it slowly... They were boiling hot and his skin was humid with a layer of saliva. The other man was pressing him forcibly into the mattress with the weight of his body, with both his arms resting on the mattress around Kurt's head.

He finally realized what was happening and he jumped, only to create a hard pressure on his crotch. He couldn't help but whimper at the intimate contact of another man's penis: it was the first time he was ever even touched there and it felt unbelievably erotic. He turned his head to the side as he pressed the other boy's neck more desperately between the crooks of his arms and tightened his calves around his ass, opening his own tights as much as he could as he did so. As if he had understood the message, the stranger begun to very slowly rut his hips on Kurt's and started sucking more forcefully under his jaw. Even though he was laying on his back, Kurt's head felt dizzy with pleasure because of the clothed but distinguishably hard manhood that was pressing on his own in a repetitive motion and he tried to gain back his balance by sliding his hands down the man's back and grabbing his ass.

He couldn't believe how bold he was being. When all the sensations felt completely new and exciting to him, his body seemed to know exactly what it was doing. To punctuate his thoughts, his hands immediately pushed the other guy's ass into his crotch vigorously without a warning. In response to this, the other man's moist lips quit sucking at his skin and he climbed up his neck to moan loudly into his ear. Kurt whimpered again. This was the single best experience of his life. His body was so hot and he could feel his penis harden with every trust, to the point where he couldn't believe it could get any harder. He was harder than a rock, and so was the man he was with.

Kurt released the pressure his legs had on the other guy's waist, let them fall onto the sides with his feet flat on the bed and lifted his hips. In this position, the man's hard cock was brushing against his balls and perineum. The pleasure was so strong he swore he was about to burst into a billion pieces. The warm breathe grew faster on his ear. He reproduced the boy's actions and started biting and licking where his neck met his shoulder, trying not to moan too much like a whore.

His partner whimpered into his ear and murmured: "Kurt, baby, you fucking cock-tease. I should rip off your pants and fuck you raw without even thinking about fingering you."

Even though that was the one hottest warning he had ever received, it acted like a cold shower on him: he realized where he was and what had just happened. He pushed the stranger off of him and sat back on the bed with a small cry as he opened his eyes.

There kneeling on the bed in front of him was the guy from the photo on the nightstand. Even if he had seemed only relatively handsome and completely not his type of guy in picture, at this very moment, Kurt could only think he was glancing at the most attractive man he had ever seen. His flushed cheeks, dilated eyes and the huge erection that was tenting his trousers made his blood boil in his veins and his mouth dry.

"Are you okay Kurt?" the man asked. "I'm sorry I just attacked you in your sleep, but you just seemed so inviting laying on your back with your legs opened like that!"

Kurt tried to form words but the only thing that got out of his mouth was yet another whimper. He was uncontrollably aroused, but at the same time he couldn't help but be terrified out of his mind. He couldn't ignore the fact that the guy had almost killed him and then had rapped him on multiple occasions. Who was he to apologize now?

"I tried to call you at least a couple of times today and since I couldn't reach you I decided to contact Finn instead." the stranger continued. "He told me you slipped on a sock or something equality stupid and hit your head... So I thought I'd just drive here and take care of you, I hope you don't mind? We don't have to go to the sing-along if you don't feel like it!"

Kurt glanced at him with a clueless look. "May— may I ask you your name?"

The other man's face changed from affection to confusion. He stared at Kurt as if he had lost his mind. Which after further interrogation, the countertenor had conclude was probably the case.

"Kurt... Seriously... What's with the bad jokes? Are you alright?"

"No, I am not alright!" Kurt responded, obviously mad. "Why do people keep asking me that! I was just attacked, bullied, and I'm pretty sure I was raped!"

The man immediately grabbed his upper arms with a look of complete panic in his eyes. "What the fuck, Kurt, when did this happen? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Hey, don't cry" Kurt pleaded. "I was coming back from Mercedes' and somebody jumped on me near that park in her neighborhood..."

He stopped in his track when he saw the tears that were staining the stranger's cheeks. He looked down at the comforter. This confirmed what he had suspected. "Obviously you are not the guy who attacked me, are you?" he said, and looked up at the other man. "Did you save me?"

"I did." the man responded. "I found you in the park and drove you to the hospital. But this happened more than a year ago, Kurt."

Please take the time the review, even if it is with a word or two. You can just write "Hey dude, I read your story" and it's still gonna make my year.

Love you all!

TheCuillère