Title: What A Boy Wants
Author: hopefulwriter27
Pairing: Kurt/Dave, Kurt/Blaine (a little bit)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kurt and Blaine go to a gay bar. Kurt runs into David Karofsky. Sex happens. 3,000 words
The thump of the music is loud enough that Kurt can hear Ke$ha's voice from the sidewalk. It's ten steps down- not that he's counting- to the entrance of "Q." Despite the late October breeze, there's a heavy scent in the air. It teases Kurt's nose, reminding him of the boys' locker room after football practice. He stops at the first step, wraps his fingers around the narrow metal handrail, and breathes deep.
"Come on!" Blaine roars in his ear.
Kurt twists and leans forward for a kiss. Blaine ducks back and flushes. Hurt flashes through Kurt's chest. We're at a gay bar for Gaga's sake, you'd think my boyfriend would kiss me.
From the dip of Blaine's eyebrows, Kurt knows that the boy feels guilty. Attempting to sooth, Blaine says, "You're costume looks amazing."
Kurt glances down at his fingerless leather gloves, plain white t-shirt, and dark jeans. He left his leather coat in the car after Blaine convincingly sold him on the fact that he'll get hot dancing and if Kurt took off his coat it might get stolen. "I do make a mean Danny Zuko." The urge to run his fingers across his gel-encased hair is overwhelming. Kurt forces his thumb through the loops of his jeans.
There's a set of bouncers, both tall, wide, and muscled blonde's, at the door. "ID," the one on the right says.
As Kurt hands his over he prays that they won't call them on their illegitimate identification. I can pass for twenty-one, Kurt thinks. He edges out his hips, hoping to look sexy and older.
They get their ID backs, fork over the seven dollar cover, and head inside. Blaine goes in before him, but Kurt crowds close, his stomach in sudden tight knot. The fake fur collar around Blaine's neck tickles Kurt's chin; Kurt scowls. Stupid costume. Kurt had wanted Blaine to dress up at Kenickie, but Blaine had called that "kitschy." Like matching costumes are any kitschier than dressing up as Jonny Weir.
The club is packed. Bodies, most of which are men, and the majority of whom are topless, sway together all the way from the crowded bathrooms near the front door, past the long curved bar to Kurt's right, and onto the dance floor that peaks out around the corner.
Oh my god. Blaine told him that it would be crazy, but Kurt never imagined this. Multicolored lights strobe above, casting shadows of pink and blue across the miles of sweat-slicked flesh all around. The music is even louder inside. It takes Blaine grabbing his wrist for Kurt to realize that his boyfriend had been speaking to him.
"Sorry, I can't hear you!" Kurt shouts. Blaine's eyes narrow, like he doesn't understand, but then his expression clears and he shrugs. Fingers light against Kurt's skin, Blaine guides Kurt through the crowd to the bar.
It takes a few minutes for Blaine to get the bartender's attention, but when he does, Kurt watches as his boyfriend leans over the counter and orders. "…fruity." Kurt only catches part of what Blaine says.
"What is this?" Kurt asks as Blaine hands him a tall, narrow glass with deep-red liquid inside. Blaine presses close, leg slipping between Kurt's as he leans forward to be heard.
"Don't worry," Blaine says with a wide smile. "You'll love it." He takes a sip of his own drink. "It tastes like a blow-pop."
Kurt doesn't really want to drink, but Blaine is already halfway through his, so he lifts the glass to his mouth and sips. It does taste like a cherry blow pop, Kurt thinks in surprise. The intense sugary-sweetness of the drink hangs on his lips, but Kurt likes the taste so he drinks more.
"This is awesome!" Blaine says with a laugh. He drapes his arm through the crook of Kurt's elbow and twists so they're standing side-by-side. "Look at all the…" Blaine stops mid-sentence as an Adonis walks past them. The man towers well above both boys and is wearing nothing but a black speedo, matching combat boots, and a small pair of fake, white wings.
Heat flushes Kurt's cheeks. He could pick me up and hold me in place, Kurt thinks. His mouth is suddenly dry, so brings his glass to his lips and downs the rest in one go. He holds his empty drink for a second, eyes glued to Blaine's face. Blaine doesn't seem to notice him though. His gaze is still locked on the beefy angel walking away. It takes Kurt rubbing his thumb over Blaine's pulse for his boyfriend to tear his stare away.
Kurt holds up his glass and leans close so Blaine can hear. "I'm empty." Blaine smiles and nods. He downs the rest of his own drink then moves towards the bar. As Blaine tugs out his cash, Kurt thinks, I can have another one. It barely has any alcohol in it, and I'll eat salad for a few meals to work off the sugar.
Blaine comes back with another glass filled with the same cherry liquid. "I love this place," Blaine says in a loud, dramatic whisper that Kurt barely catches. Kurt smiles and takes a drink.
"The music is fabulous," Kurt says. Ke$ha has morphed to Brittany Spears, and he can't help but bounce his head to the beat.
"Want to dance?" Blaine asks.
The dance floor is barely visible underneath the heels of all the men with raised arms and swaying hips. It's a throng of moving bodies, faces with lustful and blissed out expressions. "Yeah," Kurt says. "Let me finish my drink." His drink is still three-fourths full, but Kurt's thirsty, so he brings the cool glass to his lips and swallows the rest. Blaine follows suit.
There's a thin, shoulder high ledge that follows the wall opposite the bar, and the boys add their empty glasses to the other abandoned drinks that litter strip of black lacquered wood. Despite the nearness of the dance floor, it takes a few minutes to press through the crowd and find a spot they can stand without being pushed away. A fine sheen of sweat clings to Kurt's skin by the time Blaine curls his body behind him. His body tingles where Blaine's fingertips have become pinpoints of pressure at his side and hip.
They dance. It's nothing like Kurt's ever experienced. It's not the jaunty, practiced steps of a winter time duet, nor the sweet, romantic swaying of a school time victory. He can't see Blaine's face, but he feels heat of his breath puffing against the skin of his neck and the tickle of the fur collar that completes Blaine's costume. He feels a spot of stubble that Blaine missed, scratching along his ear, and mostly, Kurt feels his boyfriend's excitement, pressed achingly along Kurt's backside.
Blaine's hands slide along his stomach, catching on the edge of Kurt's jeans. The motion drags Kurt's shirt upwards, tugging it from the safety of his pants. The rough edge of Blaine's thumbnail grazes the newly exposed flesh, a wave of arousal spirals up Kurt's spine. He moans, and Blaine echo's the response.
I need to kiss him, Kurt thinks, mind hazy with need. Vaguely, Kurt recognizes that maybe his drinks had more alcohol than he initially thought, but at the moment, he doesn't care. At moment, he needs Blaine's mouth against his.
Kurt turns. Blaine's hands scuff across Kurt's body, resting against the swells of his ass. The touch sends a burst of tingles along Kurt's nerves. He raises his gaze, prepared to slide into Blaine's hazel eyes, and freezes.
There's a man, tall, blonde, and tan, dressed in a pair of red briefs and matching suspenders, pressed behind Blaine, sucking on his neck. Blaine doesn't seem to be minding. His head is thrown back, his mouth is open, and his eyes are closed. Rage, hot and dark, pours across Kurt's chest like molten tar. How dare he! Kurt's so angry he doesn't know who he's more pissed at, his boyfriend or the stranger.
"Blaine!" Kurt shouts, but Blaine doesn't appear to hear him. Neither does the stranger. The man's hand flattens across Blaine's shoulder then drags down his chest, stopping momentarily to brush his thumb across Blaine's nipples. Blaine moans, and Kurt steps back.
A body slams into him from behind, and Kurt spins. "Watch where you're going!" he growls. The thin, curly-haired boy sends a frown in Kurt's direction, but moves away when his friend tugs him by the wrist. I need some water, Kurt thinks frantically. He glances at Blaine, who's a few inches away. His boyfriend hasn't noticed Kurt's absence.
Pushing his way through the crowded dance floor, Kurt heads towards the front of the club, where he remembers passing the bathrooms on the way inside. There's a line eight deep coming from the men's room. The women's isn't any better. Kurt's eyes begin to burn. I will not cry, he thinks forcefully.
Kurt heads for the door. I need some air. He slides past the bouncers, past the group men handing over their money for entrance, and stomps up the steps to the sidewalk above. Cool air and cigarette smoke hit him in the face. I hate this place, Kurt thinks. He drags the back of his hand across his eyes. There's a group of men smoking a few steps from the door. Kurt doesn't want to be near the ashy smell, so he sets off in the opposite direction.
He passes by a closed bagel shop, and abandoned art gallery. The words, "Angela's Awesome Art" are scripted on the window beside the door, but the area highlighted by the streetlight shows the inside to be empty. There's a burst of laughter behind him, and Kurt turns back towards the club in time to see a head of dark hair and flash of a fur collar. Anger pulsing hard in his veins, Kurt steps off the main sidewalk and into the alleyway on his left. I hope he's worried and freaks out when he can't find me.
The sound of someone inhaling jerks Kurt's attention away from Blaine. He squints trying to see down the short street. The cast of the streetlight only goes so far. Kurt sees the puff of smoke before he sees the man. The guy is big- broad shouldered and tall. His head is ducked, blocking his face from Kurt's vision, but a cigarette hangs from his lips.
Kurt watches as the man lift his hand and hold the cigarette still as he takes a drag. Kurt has the sudden image of the big man on his knees sucking Kurt's cock. He shivers hard. Kurt shifts, and the man notices him.
"Aaron, I told you I'd be back in a minute. You didn't need to look for me," the man says, and Kurt is struck with sense of familiarity.
"I'm not Aaron," he says, tucking his fingers underneath his arms as a gust of wind blows down the alleyway.
There's a long pause and then the man says, "Kurt?"
Kurt knows who it is before the body comes closer and his face become clear. "David?" The man sways forward, an arm's length away, and despite the fact it's been months since he's seen the other boy, there is no doubt that it's David Karofsky standing before him. Is he dressed as sexy football player? Kurt blinks and rakes his gaze from the top of Dave's head to his white cleats. There's no helmet covering his slightly curled hair- it's longer than before- but a thick black line is painted under each eye. A pair of tight red pants- the same pants that Kurt's admired several on McKinley High's football players- shows off a firm behind and a bulging front. White shoulder pads rest on Dave's shoulders. His chest is bare and slightly furred.
Oh my, Kurt thinks before he can stop himself. He's definitely not chubby. Kurt swallows and pushes away the sudden image of running his tongue across the taunt flesh of the other boy's chest. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and Kurt's head buzzes.
"Kurt?" Dave says again. He flicks his cigarette to the ground and snuffs it with the toe of his shoe. "What are you doing here?"
Kurt is so flabbergasted that he falls back on comfortable behavior. "What am I doing here?" he snaps. "I'm going to a gay bar, because you know, I'm gay." He parks one hand on his hip while the other one flies near his face. "What are you doing here?" Kurt squints. "Dressed like a sex fantasy?"
Dave snorts. "I always knew football players were a kink of yours."
""Oh, that's right, try to make me uncomfortable to get away from answering my question," Kurt says, stepping forward. He presses a finger into Dave's left shoulder pad. He looks over the costume again, blatantly this time. "Are you here trying to get laid?"
Even the dark Kurt can tell Dave is uncomfortable. "It's none of your business Hummel," Dave grows.
That pisses Kurt off. "None of my business? I think everything you do is my business, especially since it seems not a half a year after leaving me humiliated at prom, you decide to come out and wave your gay flag high and strong." This time Kurt uses his whole hand to push at Dave's shoulder.
"I'm not waving my flag," Dave says. "I'm just… trying new things." He pauses for a moment, and then in a smaller voice adds, "Things aren't as complicated at college as they were in high school. I don't feel so scared."
Kurt doesn't know what to say to that, plus he's sort of drunk. "Oh." Kurt's anger fades, leaving behind something dense and tightly coiled low in his abdomen. "You, uh, look nice," Kurt adds lamely.
Dave makes a noise that's half-cough, half-chuckle. "Thanks. My friend Aaron picked it out for me."
"The guy you mistook me for?" Kurt sways closer as a strong breeze curls around the corner of the building and flies down the alleyway. Despite the fact he's shirtless, Kurt can feel Dave's body heat.
"Yeah, you look alike. You're both…" Dave's voice trails off as he searches for words.
Kurt helps him out. "Lean, tall, magnificently dressed?"
"Hot," Dave says.
Kurt's cheeks go warm. "You think I'm hot?"
Dave ducks his head and answers towards the street. "Yeah."
Courage slides into Kurt's chest, filling him with a manic strength. He steps forward. His knees bump into Dave's as his shoulders knock against Dave's football gear. "You're not too bad yourself," Kurt replies in a staged whisper. His fingers flatten on Dave's bare stomach. Dave trembles and a wave of lust tornados through Kurt's body, making him achingly hard.
Dave's head dips forward. His lips are millimeters from Kurt's. "I thought you had a boyfriend."
Kurt thinks to Blaine, who won't kiss him in public and let's other boy's suck on his neck. "I do." He closes the space between them, and brings their lips together.
Dave kisses like he plays football- fully focused with an intensity that scares the opposing team. Kurt's not scared though. Dave's hand grabs the back of Kurt's head and he deepens the kiss. Oh god, Kurt thinks. He digs his nails into Dave's side. His whole body is curling, moving into Dave's space, seeking more pleasure, more heat.
When Dave breaks the kiss, Kurt gasps, "God."
Dave pupils are blown wide. "You taste like a jolly rancher," Dave says, but before Kurt can reply, his mouth is taken again.
Kurt's mind goes hazy. All he knows is one second his tongue is sliding into David Karofsky's mouth, and the next, Dave has him against the brick wall of the building, knee between his leg, mouth sucking bruises into Kurt's skin, and Kurt's about to come in his pants.
"Wait," Kurt manages, voice sounding harsh and strained in the air of the alleyway.
Dave detaches from Kurt's neck and stares at him. The look is so heated that Kurt's words dry up in his throat. "You are so fucking hot," Dave growls. Kurt shudders. Dave kisses him again.
This time, when Dave pulls away for a breath, he doesn't return to Kurt's mouth. Instead, he dips to his knees, wraps his large hands around Kurt's thighs, and mouths Kurt's arousal through fabric of his jeans.
"Oh god," Kurt says. He wants to squeeze his eyes shut. He wants to stop watching as Dave unzips his pants and sets Kurt free. Kurt's never done anything like this with Blaine before, and it's all overwhelming. Dave takes the tip of Kurt's cock into his mouth, sucks experimentally, and Kurt's mind goes blank. He can't think or speak. There's nothing but feeling, nothing but the wet heat of Dave's mouth.
Kurt doesn't last long. How can he, with Dave's shoulders pads rises and falling as he moves, as he bobs his head? Dave's fingers brush along Kurt's balls. His knuckle presses into the flesh right behind them. Kurt explodes.
Dave makes a startled gasp, and jerks backward. Kurt wants to apologize. Sorry for coming all over your face- and it is, all over Dave's face. It's across his lips and cheek. There's even some on his fingers and dripping down his chin. However, the ability to speak had fled. Kurt's barely managing to stand.
Hand braced against Kurt's leg, Dave gets to his feet. He wipes his face with the back of his hand then stares at it. "Sorry," Kurt says, voice finally returning. "It was just… really good."
"No," Dave says.
His voice is rough and Kurt can't help but thinking, I was inside his mouth.
"It's fine. I was just surprised. I, uh, liked it." Dave motions towards himself. There's a wet stain at the crotch of the tight football pants.
He came from sucking me. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, because the thought is too much.
"You're boyfriend ever do that for you?" Dave asks, sounding smug, as he if he knows the answer is 'no.'
Kurt opens his eyes and shakes his head. Dave captures Kurt's eyes with his gaze. He raises his hand and licks across the back. Kurt can't look away. Dave leans close to his ear and says, "You taste amazing."
Kurt's cock twitches. Dave nips lightly at Kurt's jaw. "My dorm room isn't too far from here. I'll show you all the other things college has taught me."
Oh. Kurt shudders and thinks, Those drinks were definitely stronger than I thought. "It is getting cold."
Dave smiles.