Chapter 1
Dave was more eager to just go out for the night than needy to meet someone; he'd never been to a gay strip club so he wanted to check out what it was about. But as soon as he steps inside, he begins to doubt he picked the best place; the VIP Club New York looked vastly different on the internet. Dave takes a quick look around the place and… well, it's definitely not the shiny and elegant establishment they showed on the website. But anyway are strip clubs supposed to look elegant?
The VIP Club is small and quite dark; red dim lights illuminate the place in a gloomy way. It seems more like some bar where nostalgic alcoholics go to drown their sorrows in whiskey than a place where you go to pick up a guy and have fun.
He can smell a not very pleasant mix of alcohol, sweat and air freshener in the air. The music is not loud like in others clubs Dave has been to, and in spite of the lugubrious and almost depressing aspect of the place, it's filled with people. The loud chatter coming from everyone is probably the only thing that adds a festive touch to the club.
Dave's not leaving, though. If he dragged his ass here, the least he can do is have a beer. The chances of finding some cute guy to take home for the night are slim, or so Dave thinks. Not because there are no cute guys around but because this place really takes away his desire to flirt; in fact, it even makes him a bit sad.
He fixes his baseball cap, lowering the peak a bit. It's an old habit from the days when he was still in the closet. Back then, he went to gay clubs but tried to pass unnoticed. He stopped trying to pass unnoticed long ago, but still wears his baseball cap every time he goes clubbing.
He resolves to have a drink and takes a seat on a stool located in a dark corner at the far end of the bar. From his seat, he can see the whole place. There are regular tables with leather chairs, most of them are occupied. In the middle of the club there's a stage, not very big and surprisingly it's close to the floor. Dave always assumed that all stages were at least three feet off the floor. There's even a freaking pole close to the edge of the platform.
He notices that there are some wooden booths on one side of the hall; at first he innocently believes those are old fashioned telephone booths, and then he realizes just how ridiculous that is. Nowadays everyone carries a cell phone. He spots a broad-chested guy with very few clothes on emerging from one of the booths, looking cocky and cheery, buttoning his jeans. Several seconds later, a very flushed man in a business suit comes out of the same booth, zipping up his fly.
Dave presses his lips in surprise. The website didn't specify they offered those kinds of services. He read about the lap-dances and he can see some of the waiters giving lap-dances to their customers. But Dave is not even tempted to get one for himself. It's not like he's still in the closet and doesn't like public displays of his desire for other men… but he's too self-conscious to have a guy grinding his lap in front of everyone.
He's okay with sharing chaste kisses in public, or holding hands… but heavy petting? Please, leave that for your bedroom. Straight or gay, it doesn't matter. Dave thinks it's just… well, not for him.
The bartender approaches him. She's a huge blonde woman covered with tattoos and piercings.
"Evening, young cub," she says. Her voice is low, almost husky, but she's smiling at him.
"Hey."
"First night in the VIP? I remember my costumers and I know I haven't seen you here before," she says, plucking a glass and some liquor from under the bar. She starts preparing a drink.
"I'm sort of new in town and, yeah, it's my first night in here," Dave replies politely.
She grins. "Well, you got here just in time. The show's about to start. I'm sure you're gonna love it. Want something to drink?"
Dave's eyes fix on the empty stage and then he returns his gaze to the bartender. "A beer would be fine."
The woman nods and brings him a bottle of beer. He thanks her and as she leaves to attend to other customers, Dave hurries to drink his beer. He's not feeling very comfortable in this place, and he needs to relax a bit. He promises himself that he's not going to get drunk, though; he can handle alcohol pretty well, but he's not in the safety of his apartment, and he really doesn't want to pass out in this place.
Suddenly, most of the lights of the bar go off and there's immediately a loud cheering and clapping that startles Dave a bit. He turns around and leans back against the bar, curious about the show that's about to start.
When the song starts playing, Dave doesn't recognize it. It's slow, somehow sensual… kind of bluesy. The stage is completely dark, and then one light goes on, illuminating the silhouette of a slender man wearing a hat. All anyone can see is his black silhouette, but still everyone cheers as soon as the guy appears in the stage.
The dancer doesn't move at first, and Dave can't help thinking it's kind of hot. Somehow the guy doing nothing is like a very hot tease.
Finally, the guy moves. Slowly and sensually, running his hands all over his body, and finally he starts walking firmly towards the pole. Dave can't freaking believe it. For some reason, he was expecting a huge muscular guy dressed up as a cop or something, dancing to YMCA. This though, this is… much different.
The stripper dances gracefully, spinning in place, then bending over, and the men sitting close to the stage are already going wild. Dave can see the guy better; he's sort of dressed up like a business man. Sort of. The jacket, shirt and tie are there, but no pants. Also, he's wearing tight, high black boots.
In a quick motion, the dancer opens his jacket and reveals a pair of pants. Dress shorts, really, so short that the jacket was covering them and now the stripper is playing with the waistband. Almost painfully slowly, the guy undoes the buttons of his short pants, while he swings his hips, making people go wild. In contrast of his slow motions, he quickly puts them down to the floor and steps out from them.
He immediately returns to the pole, dancing around it. It's freaking sexy in a classy way. Dave always thought strippers were kind of tacky, but this guy is proving to be different; the man kneels down with his back against the poll, pushing his thighs open with one hand while running the other hand all over his body.
The dancer straightens up slowly; he never stops swinging his hips to the beat of the smooth music. He's standing with his back to the crowd when he takes off his hat and tosses it away. Still facing away from the audience, the dancer starts removing his jacket and people start whistling. As his jacket falls from his shoulders, he walks away from the crowd and the pole. The guy catches the jacket with one hand before it hits the ground and spins it over his head before throwing it to the side.
Finally, the guy turns around to face the crowd and Dave frowns. He's not particularly close to the stage, but the club is quite small so he still has a pretty good view, and for the first time he can see the guy's face. Dave's not really focused in how the guy is working his tie while he sends lustful looks to the audience beneath him, because somehow that face looks incredibly familiar to him. Now the guy takes off his tie, playing with the audience by using it like a whip; as he dances around he bends over, sticking his ass towards the crowd and men don't waste any time stuffing money in his underwear.
Suddenly Dave's heart starts beating fast because he realizes who this guy reminds him of. The resemblance is almost creepy; hot but creepy. From where Dave is sitting, the dancer looks a lot like the boy that Dave wanted for the better part of his teenage years, and then his not-so-teenage years, and he can't manage to look away to prevent the painful clenching of his heart. It's impossible not imagine Kurt Hummel dancing like that, right in front of him, and Dave can hardly stand it. He used to have hot dreams about Kurt all the time, and even though Dave worked hard to get over the boy, those dreams still haunt him maybe once every second week.
Suddenly the dancer falls on his hands and knees, crawling sensually along the edge of the stage; more money goes into his underwear and Dave feels as turned on as he feels disturbed by the sudden wave of old familiar lust.
He doesn't want to have these images in his head; he's supposed to be over this guy. It's hot, but at the same time it's disheartening. He really doesn't want to go through the Kurt Hummel thing all over again. But Dave keeps his eyes fixed on the stage anyway, unable to look away because this guy reminds him of the boy he used to love, and even if that brought nothing but hurt to everyone, Dave is ready to fall into the fantasy all over again because he just can't help it. He's weak and he knows it; and he has never been good at dealing with the Kurt Hummel thing.
The guy keeps dancing, and Dave lets himself pretend he's actually watching Kurt dance and strip and crawl so sensually across the floor for him, even though in real life he wouldn't like Kurt to be a stripper. He tries to ignore how this make-believe Kurt never loses the chance to interact with his audience, sending lustful looks to the men below, offering his hips and ass while these men eagerly stuff money in his underwear. Dave ignores that part because this is a fantasy; an unexpected one, but still it's supposed to be just for him and he doesn't want to share Kurt with anyone. Yes, this guy is Kurt, and Kurt is doing this just for him, willingly, because in Dave's dreams, Kurt wants him, too.
Dave exhales, feeling hopeless. Why the hell is he doing this to himself again!
But the guy on his feet again, distracting Dave. He walks towards the edge of the stage with firm and confident steps, and finally he rips his shirt open, making the crowd go really wild. But Dave gasps as he feels his stomach flip inside.
The stripper is right at the edge of the stage, even closer than he was before; the lights are brighter now, illuminating him, and he's not wearing his hat anymore and-
Oh, please God, no.
A million thoughts cross Dave's mind in a split second. The dancer is indeed Kurt Hummel, but Dave tries desperately to convince himself otherwise. There's no way in hell that the fabulous Kurt Hummel is now a stripper who gets money stuck his underwear by sleazy guys in a lousy gay club. If there was anyone at McKinley who was born to succeed in life, that was Kurt.
It pains him to see that the boy he was so in love with – not obsessed, his first therapist never really understood his feelings – has become this. Kurt was perfect, beautiful, proud and flawless, and he's not supposed to be climbing a pole in nothing but a pair of tight white boxer briefs while a bunch of horny dudes whistles at him.
Dave finds it hard to stay in his seat; he feels the sudden urge to run to Kurt, pull him off the stage and get him out of this smelly club.
But Kurt keeps on dancing, slowly, sensually and gracefully, and Dave is not strong enough. His mind and body betray him, because there's Kurt, just a few feet away from him almost acting out most of Dave's wet dreams. Dave always wondered how Kurt looked under his fancy clothes; he always assumed Kurt was gorgeous and now he can see he was right about that. Dave always thought Kurt was the sexiest guy ever, so he couldn't even imagine how much sexier Kurt would look while doing something deliberately sexual. Which is why Kurt's killing Dave right now.
Kurt jumps onto the pole, holding it while his body spins in the air and then he falls to the floor on his knees, so hot and so amazing. He grinds his back and ass against the pole. Straightening his knees but keeping his body bent over, he runs his hands all over his long legs.
Dave's own legs tremble and he thanks God for the bar stool or he'd be on the floor by now. He's getting aroused so quickly, which doesn't surprise him because seeing, thinking or dreaming about Kurt always had that effect on him.
This is real, though, which is depressing for both of them. This reality is terribly sad. But Dave can't manage to have any coherent thoughts, being completely absorbed in watching Kurt's incredible body and his sensual dancing.
And suddenly the lights go off. People are clapping loudly. Then the house lights come on and the noise of people talking and wandering around comes back. The stage is empty, and it's just like nothing had happened. Dave blinks, not understanding what's going on. It feels like someone just emptied a bucket of cold water over him.
He turns around, resting his elbows on the bar, trying to figure out what the fuck happened. Now Dave asks himself if he really did just see what he believes he just saw. He glances at the beer in his hand, frowning. There's no way he's drunk already, imagining weird shit after just one beer. Sure, alcohol hits you worse on an empty stomach and Dave had barely touched any food since last night, but… c'mon!
Now he's pissed. He really doesn't want Kurt Hummel back in his life. In high school, there was no way to escape being near him. Until Kurt transferred for part of junior year, of course, and then Dave transferred for senior year so he didn't have to deal with Kurt anymore, at least not physically. He even managed to stop consciously thinking about him after some years. Yet the boy still haunts Dave's dreams for several reasons that he's not going to list right now because he has more urgent things to do, like to figure out why his mind is playing nasty tricks on him, again.
That was not Kurt.
Obviously. It's impossible. Kurt wouldn't be a stripper; Kurt cannot be a stripper. The boy must be starring in some huge musical on Broadway, or maybe working for some fashion magazine, but definitely not taking his clothes off in front of horny strangers.
So probably the dancer just resembled Kurt closely, or maybe not so closely, but the beer mixed with his obviously not-so-forgotten feelings towards Kurt to confuse him.
"Enjoyed the show?"
Dave looks up and the bartender is standing in front of him, grinning. He doesn't really know how to reply.
"That was… surprising."
The woman nods. "In a good way or a bad way? You certainly don't look disappointed."
Dave snorts and shrugs. "This is my first time at a gay strip club. I think I was kind of expecting something bold like, I don't know, some muscular guy with oil all over his body, wearing a cowboy costume, dancing to some Gloria Gaynor song."
The bartender lets out a loud short laugh. "We have that kind, too. Gay men are not like straights, young cub. Straight dudes are okay with any chick who'll show her tits; gay men… they have varying tastes. I like to please everyone."
And with that Dave agrees, since he wouldn't have much liked the striptease he just described.
"I enjoyed it," Dave admits. "A lot. I never thought striptease could involve… I don't know, class? That show wasn't tacky or tasteless like I thought they all were."
"That's Babyface for you," she says, nodding knowingly. "You'll never get him into some hot sailor costume gyrating to Donna Summer. But he does what he does well, since even the dudes who are not into guys like him like his act."
"Babyface?"
"The dancer."
Dave nods, feeling curious. "Does he have another name?"
The woman smiles at him. "No, he's Babyface in here. None of my boys use their real names. You know, to preserve their privacy. If they decide to reveal it, that's their call. But most of them use nicknames."
A guy orders a Scotch and the bartender starts preparing it. Dave, meanwhile, processes the lady's words. For a quick and stupid second, Dave expected her to tell him that guy was not Kurt Hummel, so at least he could stop thinking bullshit. Which is ridiculous, because of course they wouldn't give the employee's names to strangers, and Dave is a stranger in here. But mostly because that guy was not Kurt; the idea of Kurt being a stripper... it's just absurd and Dave is an idiot for even considering the possibility.
He orders another beer, which the bartender delivers right away, and tries to cool off.
He wasn't expecting a Kurt Hummel moment to slap him in the face. It pisses Dave off, since now he'll probably be thinking about Kurt for the rest of the week and thinking about Kurt is never good. It only makes him feel angry and sad and self-conscious, and even more depressed than he already normally is.
Dave drinks his beer slowly, resolving that he should get a cab back home and once there, drink himself into oblivion so he doesn't dream about Kurt, at least not tonight.
"Hey, Princess. Got something for me?"
Dave's heart stops for real this time. He doesn't dare look up, and probably he wouldn't be able to even if he wanted to because his body is frozen. His blood runs cold through his veins.
That's his voice.
"You were great over there, Babyface," Dave hears the bartender saying. "And yeah, table six. They just arrived. See what they'll be having."
"Okay. And thanks for the compliment."
Dave counts to ten before looking up, just a little. He doesn't see Kurt anywhere, but that was his voice. That voice is unmistakable; Dave secretly loved that voice just like he always loved everything about Kurt, and his stomach flips again, because he realizes that Kurt is right there, somewhere near him. And Kurt is Babyface - the guy who just stripped for a bunch of horny men in a crappy club.
He looks over his shoulder, trying to spot Kurt somewhere just because he's a freaking masochist. Dave knows he should be paying for his beer and running away from Kurt, but he still tries to find him in the crowd.
Almost immediately, he spots Kurt and it's like a ton of bricks just fell on Dave's head.
Kurt is right there, a few feet away from him. His hair is wet, like he just showered. He's wearing a pair of very tight jeans, a tight white tee and the little black waiter apron. Carrying a big round tray under his arm, Kurt walks over to a table where four guys are sitting and it seems like he's taking their orders.
He's also a waiter.
Dave immediately looks away and his eyes randomly land on another waiter who's currently dancing over some dude's lap and Dave's throat constricts. He suddenly remembers the other waiter and the business guy who walked out of that booth after him and, fucking Lord, this can't be what Kurt has become!
The part of him that hated Kurt, it kind of rejoices in that thought. Kurt's life went to hell and Dave feels slightly good about it, since at least he's not the only one who has a miserable life. He has to admit that Kurt's got it worse, thought. But the other part of him, the part that loved Kurt, feels like shit because Kurt deserved the world and not this.
"Gin and tonic, two Margaritas and one Jameson on the rocks," Kurt's voice is near again, and Dave does his best to stay unnoticed.
"Give me one minute," the bartender says.
Dave slowly and smoothly raises his eyes, just a little, and catches the inimitable Kurt Hummel leaning back against the bar, just a couple of feet away from him. Kurt is not looking in his direction, thankfully; instead he's looking around the club.
"It's pretty packed tonight," he says in his beautiful soft voice. Dave catches a couple of guys leering at him but Kurt doesn't seem to notice. Dave fights the urge to go over and punch those guys in their faces.
"Well, it's Saturday. How you doing so far? Nice tips on stage?"
"I reached almost a hundred. Someone was either too drunk or too generous, but I got one fifty," Kurt replies and Dave's stomach clenches in disgust. Kurt sounds almost happy about it and… Jesus, 'almost a hundred'? A hundred is just pocket change to Dave; Kurt shouldn't be getting practically naked in front of strangers at all, but if he does, he shouldn't be selling himself so cheap, for Christ's sake! That body is worth millions. Dave always thought so, anyway; God only knows how many wet dreams he had after watching Kurt dancing to Push It sophomore year. But now that Dave has actually seen Kurt's almost naked body, he is certain - definitely worth millions.
"Wow, congrats!" the woman replies. Apparently a hundred is a lot of money in here and that just disturbs Dave even more. "Here, there you go. Show yourself around a bit. It's Saturday, make the most of it."
Kurt snorts. "I think I showed myself enough already," he tells her, not sounding upset but not sounding like he's joking either. "But I will. Tonight's the night for it."
And with that, Kurt walks away. Dave looks up now, following the boy who's carrying all the drinks to the table with customers. Kurt still looks like a teenager and he can't be older than Dave himself, so at most twenty-three.
"See something you like?"
Dave blinks; the bartender just said something and when he looks at her, she's grinning at him with both hands resting on the bar. Dave can't even utter a word. Something he likes? He has lusted after Kurt Hummel for almost a freaking decade!
She laughs. "It's alright, young man. I know it's your first night in here but no need to act all shy. Wanna have fun with him?"
But Dave's not shy, he's dumbfound. He feels like for the past ten minutes he has been continuously hit by truck.
"I like him," he mutters and before he can even think about it, he blurts out: "Is he available?"
He realizes what he's just said. No! He can't- he won't-
"He is," she replies in a charming voice. "It's thirty bucks for the lap-dance; seventy for a private."
There's no way in hell he's going to pay Kurt to do anything to him. Dave has never paid for sexual favors, and he definitely won't start here, with Kurt Hummel. Of course, he'd give his life away to get Kurt doing anything sexual with him willingly… but not by paying for it. No one should be paying Kurt to do anything, because Kurt shouldn't be working here in the first place.
Still, Dave can't help wondering. "A private?"
The bartender gestures towards the wooden booths and Dave almost chokes on his own saliva. Somehow he hoped Kurt didn't do all the things the rest of the waiters did with costumers, even if he was a stripper.
But Kurt actually has sex with random guys? For seventy fucking bucks? What the hell is wrong with this world?
"Just seventy bucks?" Dave asks, scandalized.
"You can always pay more if you want to," the woman tells him, showing a bright smile. "We certainly won't mind. So you're having him?"
Does he want to 'have' Kurt? At some lousy club for seventy freaking bucks? It's a simple question that can be answered just by saying 'yes' or 'no.' But Dave doesn't know what to say.
Dave can't remember how his life before Kurt was; ever since he laid eyes on the flashy teen in their sophomore year, he's always felt connected to Kurt somehow. But no matter how much it hurt him, he accepted long ago that he and Kurt were never meant to happen. Not just because for the longest time he couldn't admit to himself that he was gay and not just because he was the biggest ass to Kurt at McKinley. There was also the fact that Dave hasn't changed much physically since high school, no matter how much he's tried and keeps on trying. When he sees himself in the mirror, he's still fat and sweaty. So really, he never had a chance as far as Kurt Hummel was concerned. Dave was never going to be the man of Kurt's dreams; Dave was never going to be a man Kurt could lust after, care about or love. Dave was never going to be the guy who'd take care of Kurt, cuddle with him on cold mornings or prepare fancy dinners for their anniversary. Dave was never going to be a guy Kurt could call beautiful. Dave was never going to be the man Kurt could fall in love with.
There were so many 'nevers' with Kurt. And Dave would be lying if he said that he didn'tthink about Kurt sometimes, even after not seeing him for six years, but he genuinely thought he was over his feelings for the man. Now those feelings are back suddenly. The mixture of bitterness, anger, frustration and angst is back, and Dave can hardly deal with it. It's like concrete proof of how much of a failure he obviously still is.
So yes, Dave would always be nothing to Kurt. But now he could 'have' Kurt, because Kurt is now a hooker. It's not what Dave wants for himself or for Kurt, or for them together. But as sad and pathetic as it might sound, being a random client is better than being nothing.
"Jeez, boy. Does having some fun with my cutie Babyface need so much consideration?"
The bartender's voice forces Dave out of his train of thoughts. He shakes his head quickly. "No, it doesn't," he says, trying to at least sound firm for her benefit, even if he's a nervous mess on the inside. Dave takes out his wallet and hands the seventy miserable bucks to the bartender, who flashes a smile.
He's going to 'have' Kurt Hummel. Jesus, he's actually going to have Kurt Hummel? Dave can feel the cold sweat in his hands at this realization.
He can't deny he's already feeling aroused, even more after the incredible strip dance. Yet, the arousal is deep beneath the anxiety and the anticipation. Never in a million years did he expect to have Kurt in any way. When he woke up this morning, he couldn't possibly have imagined that by the end of the night he was going to have sex with Kurt.
Maybe this is a good thing. His old therapist told him that he had developed some kind of fixation on Kurt. Dave didn't like that word, since it wasn't like he was obsessed over the guy. It's just that Kurt was always related in everything he did. He was his first big crush. Because of Kurt, Dave realized he was gay. Dave looked up to him, fell for him and got his first huge heart break. Dave admired and hated him for being unreachable; he tried to be a better person for Kurt. Dave always hoped and dreamed and wondered a billion of things regarding Kurt, and nothing ever happened for real. Now he sees that perhaps his therapist wasn't all wrong. Kurt did get stuck in Dave's mind.
So maybe this is a good thing. Dave will finally get Kurt some way, and he'll be able to move on with his life once and for all, and for real this time, so if he runs into Kurt again someday, he won't have to go through all this again because there will be nothing to wonder about or to hope for.
Now he's also anxious, because Kurt is probably going to recognize him. Dave doubts that after tormenting the boy for years, Kurt has forgotten about him, and the fact that Dave looks exactly the same as he did back in high school doesn't help at all. It's going to be awkward, that's for sure. Will Kurt reject him? Dave believes that, being a hooker, Kurt must have had worse clients than himself… but he and Kurt have a history, a pretty bad one. Kurt has the right to refuse to have anything to do with him…
Dave feels like his heart is going to jump out of his chest. Maybe he should just go; this was obviously a very bad idea.
"Hey, Babyface. Someone's waiting for you," the bartender says loudly, making Dave flinch.
Kurt tries not to think about how exhausted he feels. He got almost a hundred dollars in tips for his performance and that's a happy thought he should hold on to. But he still has a long night ahead; it's only 1 AM.
"Thank you, cutie," the Jameson on the rocks says, winking at Kurt when he places the drinks on the table for the guy and his friends.
Kurt smiles at him, since you must win the customer's appreciation if you want nice tips or lap-dances. "Call me if you need anything," he tells the group, holding his gaze a bit longer with the Jameson on the rocks.
The guy is not even attractive, at least not to Kurt, but a customer's sex appeal is not something that really matters. Even if the hottest guy requested his services, Kurt would refuse to do it if he didn't need the money.
He turns around, heading back to the bar when he hears Princess calling for him, announcing he has a lap-dance. Kurt hurries his steps, hoping for a private
"You called me?" Kurt inquires when he reaches the bar, placing the tray on the counter.
Princess grins. "This young man here is asking for your private services," she says, pointing at some guy at the end of the bar, and yes! A private. Forty-two more bucks in his pocket!
Kurt turns around to face his new customer and his blood turns cold. Kurt feels like he's suddenly in one of those movies where everything suddenly goes into slow motion as his gaze falls upon the one and only Dave Karofsky, standing just a few feet away from him.
Kurt's throat grows tight. He's been caught.
After over two years of living this life he despises, someone has just found out he became a cheap stripper; it's humiliating. And he's been caught by none other than Dave Karofsky, his former bully who made part of his high school years a living hell. Kurt is surprised to run into Karofsky here; not because it's a gay club, since Kurt knows quite well that Karofsky is gay, but… the world is a pretty big place; New York has plenty of gay clubs. Is life laughing in his face?
There's no coincidence here. There's no way that Karofsky didn't know who he was requesting. Karofsky obviously saw him and specifically asked for him.
Kurt eyes at the man standing in front of him, and a chill runs through his spine as he notices that Karofsky looks exactly the same as the last time Kurt saw him. They must be the same age, so that means Karofsky can't be older than 22 or 23, unless he had to repeat grades in school … but Lord, doesn't this guy age? What's even more mortifying, Karofsky looks fine and healthy. Kurt has a mirror in his apartment, so he knows he can't say he looks the way he did five years ago. He's not slender anymore, he's scrawny thin. His face lacks color, his skin is a disaster and no matter how much of an actor he might be, he is aware that he looks beaten down. Getting ill so often doesn't help. So it obvious that the closet jock Karofsky did better in life than Kurt. A pang of anxiety hits his stomach; Karofsky always hurt and humiliated him in the past… the club is filled with guys who are hotter than himself. Is Karofsky asking for a lap-dance from him as a way to shove in his face his graceless present?
Yet, between the shock and the embarrassment he's feeling, there's a glimpse of longing and joy. Karofsky's right there, looking the same as always, and for a moment Kurt feels alive for the first time in years.
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Kurt thinks sometimes that he is that three falling in the forest empty of people. He has no real friends, only co-workers, he hasn't kept in touch with anyone back in Lima but his family, and not even his family knows that, far from being in New York succeeding, he's in New York just barely surviving. And they don't know where he lives, either, or how he lives or how he's doing, so… does he really exist? Is his life for real?
He does exist.
The proof is standing there, a part of his old, good life right there, reminding Kurt that he once was someone. He still is someone, even if he doesn't like himself much.
And Karofsky wasn't even a friend; he was the complete opposite, but after years of living an anonymous life, Kurt's been found and it's sad for him to realize that it doesn't matter by whom.
He's been found.
"Booth six is free," Princess tells him and Kurt blinks, stepping out of his trance.
Taking a quick second look, Kurt can see that Karofsky doesn't look threatening. In fact, the other man looks like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, so Kurt doesn't let himself be intimidated. If Karofsky is doing this just to shame him by shoving in his face that he's a stripper, Kurt won't let him. Kurt's pride is beaten, but he won't show Karofsky that. For the first time in a long time, Kurt raises his chin up, feeling defiant about his screwed up present. Sure, Karofsky knows now that he's a stripper and lap-dancer, but hell, he's going to be the best lap-dancer in this horrible club.
"Follow me, big boy," Kurt tells the other man with a seductive voice, showing the flirtatious grin he learned to fake long ago. He walks ahead of Karofsky to the sixth booth.
He can endure this. He's done this thousands of times and for men much more disgusting than Karofsky. And Karofsky is not even disgusting; they just have a terrible history together. Karofsky will be just another customer of the hundreds of customers Kurt has had. At least Karofsky is under 40.
And Karofsky is not a stranger; he's probably the last person Kurt wanted to run into, but at least he's someone Kurt knows. Even if Karofsky tormented him and threatened him in the past, for some reason Kurt doesn't feel afraid or in danger. Karofsky is someone that belongs to his past, and as stupid and bizarre as it sounds, Kurt feels a bit warm inside about that.
Kurt peeks over his shoulder, just to check that Karofsky is following him through the sea of dancing people and he is; the music is loud so Kurt doesn't even try to talk with Karofsky, but that's okay, since he tries not to talk with clients generally. Kurt keeps his chin up, gaining more confidence. He's living a shitty present, but he's going to show Karofsky that he's as strong, fierce and confident as he was in the past, even if Kurt knows he's not that guy anymore.
When he reaches the small wooden booth, he takes a deep breath, opening the door and stepping inside. There's not a lot of room, just enough for getting inside, leaving some space for a second person getting in behind you, and the chair, of course.
The booth immediately feels packed when Karofsky steps inside, closing the door behind him, and it's not surprise since the man is quite big. Yet, before Kurt has time to turn around to sit his brand new customer in the chair, there's a pair of strong arms wrapping around his torso and a mouth sucking his neck, startling Kurt.
"Wha- oh, fuck," Kurt groans, pushing his back against Karofsky as if he's looking for more contact, and tilting his head even more to give his former bully more access.
Kurt can hardly understand what the hell is going on, or better to say, what the hell he's doing. Karofsky's hands are roaming all over his body while he sucks and kisses his neck and Kurt is letting him. What's worse is that he's enjoying it and he's not supposed to.
But strong and warm arms are holding him tightly and Kurt can't help melting. It's been so long since the last time he's gotten a bit of affection, other than being slapped on his ass by some random customer or getting groped without his consent but, well, it's his job and he has to endure it. Yet this…
He can hear the hot sounds Karofsky lets out and Kurt groans loudly as the other man sucks his earlobe. Kurt's body is acting by itself, because as soon as Kurt feels Karofsky's hot breath in his ear along with the low amplified grunts he can hear now, Kurt grinds against him like some cheap whore.
"Fuck, you're so fucking hot," Karofsky says, almost whimpering, and Kurt's brain cells practically melt. He can't control his body; he throws his arms back, trying to catch Karofsky somehow and his hands land on the bigger man's head. Kurt fists Karofsky's hair, pushing Karofsky's face harder against his already mistreated neck, but Lord, it feels amazing. Kurt never knew his neck was this sensitive and he's had boyfriends kiss his neck before. But Karofsky is not kissing the skin of his neck; he's ravishing it and Kurt hasn't been so turned on in ages.
Karofsky's rough hands travel fast all over his body and Kurt lets out a loud, surprised moan when his customer presses the heel of his hand against Kurt's crotch.
"Oh, fuck!" Kurt moans. He's incredibly hard, and Karofsky squeezes his erection, making him moan even more and, acting as if some kind of wanton whore possessed him, Kurt grinds his ass against Karofsky's crotch.
"Shit, Kurt," Karofsky breathes out lustfully, and Kurt doesn't even have time to think how weird it is that Karofsky just called him by his name. His name has never sounded so hot on his boyfriends' lips and it only turns Kurt on the more.
Kurt can feel Karofsky's hard erection against his ass and Kurt only presses himself harder against him, as Karofsky continues working on Kurt's hard-on. Kurt can't process a coherent though; it's like they are both desperate for it and he doesn't know about Karofsky, but Kurt hasn't done anything remotely sexual in the past two years, and never in his life did he grind on any of his boyfriends in a public place.
But here he is, grinding against none other than David Karofsky and Kurt has never felt so hot. It's messy, rough and rushed and that's fine, even if it's something that Kurt would never have done if his mind wasn't working so wrong.
He gasps when in a quick motion, Karofsky opens the button of his jeans, pulling the zipper down and pushing his hand inside Kurt's pants, fisting his bare erection.
"Fuck, Dave!"
Kurt doesn't even know why he just called him that way. They are strangers to each other, but not completely. It's probably because Karofsky just called him 'Kurt', or because 'Karofsky' is too much of a mouthful to moan, but it seems to drive Dave insane. He pumps Kurt's cock hard and fast, and God, Kurt can almost see the stars.
They are still not facing each other; Kurt has his back to Dave and Dave is groping him from behind, and Kurt has to fight the urge to turn around and face him, to at least kiss him. Their first and only kiss was terrible, and now they are engaged in a situation that is dirty, and probably wrong, but it's still intimate because Kurt doesn't do this kind of things with strangers. Kissing is part of that intimacy, even if it's happening in some nasty booth at a nasty stripping club.
But Kurt doesn't turn around. No matter how turned on he is, he's aware that this is wrong and very deep inside, he's ashamed of himself. So he stays in his place, letting Dave touch him while he grinds his ass against his customer's erection.
"I'm gonna fuck you so good," Dave whispers lusciously against his ear and Kurt freezes on the inside, but his body keeps on moving, welcoming all Dave's rough attentions.
A wave of anxiety hits Kurt. He hasn't done anything remotely sexual in the last two years, but sex itself… it's been much longer since the last time he had sex for real.
Judging by the way his body clearly wants this, in spite of the few brain cells that keep telling Kurt this is a bad idea, it seems that he's going to have sex, not with a long term boyfriend, not after some romantic dinner, not in a comfortable king size bed, but in a dirty wooden booth, with his enemy from high school whom he just ran into five minutes ago after six years.
It's not rocking news that someone's going to have sex in here. Kurt knows his workmates and he knows that occasionally when customers are hot and willingly, the boys have sex with them instead of giving them just the lap-dance they paid for. Kurt has never done such a thing. He has never slept with a stranger.
But Kurt moans when Dave presses him against the carpeted wall of the booth, and grows hotter when he hears Dave's top button pop as he obviously opens his jeans. They are really going to do this; Kurt is not this kind of person, or at least he wasn't until now, and he can't understand what that means but he doesn't even try to figure out why he's doing this, since his body is being driven by a lust he's never felt before, instead of his good judgment.
Dave releases Kurt's cock to shove his jeans below his hips and then he yanks down on the back of Kurt's underwear, pulling it down roughly. Kurt can't help shivering, feeling exposed as his cock jumps over the waistband, but Dave immediately fists it again.
"Oh, God," Kurt moans.
"Like that?" Dave inquires with a cocky tone of voice.
No.
"Yes," he whimpers because he likes it, even if he shouldn't.
Kurt's pressing his cheek against the wall covered with nasty red carpet with his eyes closed, standing on his feet, sticking up his ass for none other than Dave Karofsky. He can't get any lower than this.
But he doesn't think about that. Instead, he strokes his own cock when Dave releases it, and Kurt can hear him opening the package of a condom that thank the Lord Dave has. Kurt doesn't even own condoms, and the last thing he wants is catch some STD from his first random.
After all, Kurt and Dave are having sex within five minutes of seeing each other. Kurt has no clue how many men Dave has slept with, Dave could be quite a slut.
Yet Kurt is doing exactly the same and… he doesn't want to think about how much of a slut he is, even if he's behaving like one since he freaking purrs as he feels Dave's hands running over his buttocks.
"So fucking perfect."
"C'mon, Dave," Kurt hears himself almost whining.
Dave presses his body closer to Kurt. His erection pressed against Kurt's ass and a shiver runs through Kurt's spine; it feels big.
"Spread your legs," Dave orders, putting a foot against Kurt's feet and kicking them apart. Kurt's breathing grows erratic in anticipation and fear. But he knows he's not afraid of Dave; he's afraid of all this.
He's never done this kind of thing, ignore his better judgment and act out of pure lust, and it scares him. Still, he wastes no time spreading his legs and raising his ass for a better angle.
He can hear Dave letting out a shaky breath. "God, yes," Dave growls, his breath hot against Kurt's ear and Kurt moans again.
Dave rubs his dick up and down Kurt's crack and Kurt frowns immediately as he feels the pressure in his ass. He jerks, hitting Dave with his elbow, and growls. "You better prepare me," he warns, feeling hot and mad.
Kurt wants this badly, and he wishes they could just do it, but not without preparing. And Dave is obviously an inconsiderate bastard, but Kurt shouldn't be surprised about that.
"Why should I prepare you? You're a-"
"You prepare me or this is not happening," Kurt cuts him off. He hasn't had sex for over two years; he's not going to let Dave or anyone shove their dick inside his ass just like that.
"Guess you have some lube? 'Cuz I don't carry a bottle of lube in my pocket." Dave talks to him like he's stupid and for the first time, Kurt looks back just to glare at him. "Take that as a no."
Kurt groans, frustrated; he's horny. Too horny for his own good; he had to stand the dumb former jock Dave Karofsky turning him on like this to end up getting nothing?
He doesn't have time to complain, though, because Dave's thick fingers are suddenly pressing against his lips.
"Suck," Dave commands, and while at some other moment Kurt would be angry or offended at such treatment, now he sucks Dave's fingers like they're something delicious and what disturbs him is that he's actually doing this willingly and eagerly, instead of feeling grossed out or mad. "Oh, fuck just like that," Dave groans, making Kurt moan.
It's got to be his ridiculously horny state. Over the past two years, Kurt can't even remember having a wet dream. The only things in his mind have been paying his debts, working his two jobs, avoiding getting ill, hoping to get better when he fell ill, wishing summer was longer, worrying about the cold weather, hoping winter would be over soon, his debts again, his jobs and how tired he is.
And now he's incredibly turned on, not thinking for one second about what he's doing, where he's doing it and who he's doing it with. He's not thinking about anything but how much he needs to get Dave's fingers wet so he can prepare him and they can fuck already.
So Kurt sucks him fervently and wantonly and he even moans while he does it. He's enjoying this; it makes no sense but Kurt doesn't care right now. He'll freak out and hate himself later. Dave runs his tongue over the back of Kurt's neck, right over his spine and then he presses his lips against his skin. Kurt can feel his hot breathe and shivers when Dave bites him, grunting words that Kurt can't make out.
Dave pushes himself away from Kurt, keeping his fingers inside Kurt's mouth. As he continues sucking them, Kurt's eyes go wide when he hears Dave spit, and even wider when he feels the spit coming down his crack. Kurt's so shocked that he can't manage to step out of his scandalized state to yell at Dave.
Someone just spit on him!
But Dave takes Kurt's cock and strokes it; Kurt forgets about the spit running down his ass and he actually bites Dave's finger in order not to scream. Dave doesn't seem to mind the pain.
"I think that's enough," Dave says, pulling his fingers out of Kurt's mouth and Kurt actually bites the air, trying to catch Dave's hand again to keep on doing what he was doing.
Lord, what the hell is wrong with him?
Before he can even know what's happening, Dave shoves one finger right inside Kurt's hole. Actually, Dave tries to, since he doesn't get too far inside.
But it hurts so much that Kurt can't help screaming in pain; Dave stops immediately, either because he doesn't want to hurt him or because he can't go any further, but he doesn't pull away.
"Shit, shit, I'm sorry," Dave gushes out, sounding guilty and concerned, and he should, that bastard. Dave presses a kiss on Kurt's shoulder as Kurt tries to relax to ease the pain. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. You're so damn tight."
It's impossible not to notice that Dave didn't expect that. Kurt quickly figures out that Dave has no clue about his sex life, so it's not Dave's fault he doesn't know that Kurt hasn't had sex for over two years. Considering Kurt's atypical behavior, Dave must think he has sex with strangers quite often, so maybe Dave is still just the brutish man he used to be, but the current situation is not entirely his fault.
And Dave actually sounds guilty, so Kurt doesn't think he wanted to hurt him.
"Just go slow, alright?" Kurt breathes out, still trying to relax. He is indeed incredibly tight; Dave has not even one finger inside him and it feels like too much.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt can see Dave nodding quickly. "Anything you want, baby. Promise I won't hurt you," he says, with a pained voice that almost kills Kurt.
Why is this so freaking good? It's not supposed to feel this good but Dave sounds concerned and it's been so fucking long since the last time someone took care of him, in any way, that Kurt can't help
melting. Dave (Jesus he keeps on calling him Dave inside his head)... Dave just called him 'baby' and Kurt has never been into pet names but Lord…
And the sex… Dave slowly pushes his finger inside Kurt's entrance. Kurt presses his forehead against the wall, breathing erratically but trying to calm himself down. There's no turning back; he's aware that he shouldn't be doing this at all, but he is, so if he's going to feel like hell later, at least he should have a good time now.
Kurt's never been good at sex in the past, so there's a big chance that tomorrow he'll be embarrassed, guilty and sore after an awful lay. But having gone so far with this, at least, he wants to try to feel good.
So Kurt does his best to ease his muscles, even if it hurts a lot. Dave moves slowly inside and out, but the pressure feels almost unbearable. He doesn't say anything, though; Kurt presses his lips together so as not to let out a sound, since he doesn't want Dave seeing him being weak.
Kurt trembles when Dave's hand finds his cock again, stroking it, and Kurt can forget for a bit about the pain to focus on the pleasure. The air inside the booth grows thick and heavy; Kurt can hear the music coming from the outside but inside there's a deep silence and the only sound to hear is their breathing. Dave pulls out his finger and spits again, to stick two slick fingers inside Kurt.
"Oh, God," Kurt chokes, torn between pain and pleasure. Dave strokes Kurt's cock even harder, obviously trying to keep his mind focused in something else.
It seems like a lifetime to Kurt before he finally starts feeling stretched. Two fingers become three and these are not the best circumstances considering there's no bed where they can lie down and there's no lube, but Dave is preparing him patiently; Kurt has to give him credit for that.
Dave's fingers press on Kurt's prostate just slightly, rubbing it slowly and making his legs tremble.
"Dave, please," Kurt whimpers. "Do it now."
"Are you sure?" Dave asks, uncertain.
Kurt is not really sure; he still feels tight and Dave's cock felt much bigger than three fingers. "Yes, c'mon," he says, almost pleading because the preparing has become a terrible tease.
"You've got it, babe," Dave almost growls, his hot breath once again on Kurt's ear, making Kurt shiver.
He almost misses the intrusion when Dave pulls his fingers out, unwelcoming the emptiness; Kurt doesn't mind when he feels spit once again in his ass. It's probably one of the most disgusting things he has ever done, but he reminds himself that spit is better than no lube at all.
Dave releases Kurt's cock, and holds him by his hip with one hand while with his other hand Dave rubs the tip of his cock, slick with spit, up and down Kurt's crack, and Lord, Kurt places his hands against the wall, trying to prepare himself from what it's about to come.
Finally, Dave pushes the head of his cock slightly inside Kurt. It feels huge; both of them moan, Dave probably in pure pleasure but Kurt in pleasure and discomfort. Of course this is not going to feel just good. The pain hits him almost immediately as Dave starts forcing his dick inside him.
Kurt starts panting; this was a huge mistake. "Oh, God, oh, God."
Dave shushes him tenderly, running his hand along his back. "I'll be good. Promise. I want to be good to you."
Kurt doesn't even have time to process what the hell does that mean, since all he can think about is how he feels he's about to split open. Dave waits, and Kurt tries to relax even though Dave's cock seems to be huge inside him. Kurt takes a few deep and desperate breaths, until with a shaky voice he asks Dave to continue, hoping that Dave's cock won't be too long. He doesn't know if Dave is actually huge or it's just that it's been so long since the last time he had sex… Just the head feels huge; if his cock is long and thick… Kurt doesn't even want to think about it.
Dave doesn't say anything; Kurt just feels him lean against him with all his weight as Dave slowly pushes the rest of his dick in. Kurt inhales sharply at the pain since Dave's cock seems never ending.
"Fuck!" Kurt moans, mostly in pain. Dave's hips are right against Kurt's buttocks, he's all the way inside and he stops moving. Kurt pants even harder, not knowing how to escape from this incredible pressuring pain inside him.
Dave's arms are suddenly around him; he kisses Kurt on his neck and then one of his hands travels all the way down his torso until it finds Kurt's cock. Kurt was quickly losing his erection, the pain being a huge turn off, but Dave pumps it, making Kurt forget a little about the throbbing ache.
"God, you feel so good," Dave whispers lasciviously, and even if right now Kurt can't manage to say the same, Dave's words turn him on. He's almost sure that none of his ex-boyfriends has lusted after him like Dave seems to be lusting after him now. It's probably the first time that Kurt feels desired for real while being off-stage.
"Move," Kurt requests, feeling encouraged.
"Are you-"
"Just move," Kurt cuts him off, impatient even if he's still in pain.
And Dave moves, painfully slowly. Kurt can tell by the way Dave's gripping his hip that he's fighting hard not to go faster. It's painful, but Kurt's brain is melting in desire, so feeling that his pleasure is once again taking the lead, Kurt fights off the pain and meets Dave's slow thrusts.
"Shit, Kurt. Stop," Dave almost pleads, but he doesn't really stop Kurt's movements. "You're gonna make me hurt you."
Kurt grins with his mouth open; he's clearly possessed and by now he doesn't care. For some reason, Kurt's not afraid of Dave, either. He doesn't think that Dave's going to hurt him; this hurts because Dave must have some enormous cock and Kurt hasn't had sex in years.
But Kurt can't manage to fear Dave, probably because he's so horny that the adrenaline he's feeling running through his veins is clouding his good judgment. Or maybe because Kurt can't help feeling good at having Dave's warm body pressed against his back. A part of his past is back, a bad part of his past that is fucking him standing against a wall, holding him close and tight and it's been so long since the last time Kurt's been held…
Fuck, it feels so good.
Kurt buries his ass deeper and harder, ignoring the ache since he's so driven that he doesn't care anymore; he wants the most of this. Dave gasps; now both his hands are holding Kurt's hips still. Kurt can tell he's going to be not only sore but bruised tomorrow, since Dave's fingers are digging deep into his skin.
"Hummel, you'd better hold still," Dave grits between his teeth and Kurt wants to laugh. Are they back to last names? "I'm not gonna hurt you."
The whole situation is ridiculous and bizarre and if he could, Kurt would burst into some hysterical laugh because he can't believe himself and his life. Kurt's the lamest guy in the sex department and he's actually pushing this almost stranger, whose huge cock is inside his ass, to fuck him harder?
Kurt's always been a guy who wanted only soft and romantic sex. This is completely different from anything he's ever done, and yet he's never been so aroused in his life.
"Who says you'll hurt me?" Kurt breathes out defiantly, still trying to get used to Dave's cock.
For some reason, the whole situation is too arousing and Kurt doesn't even think about the ache he's feeling. Dave pulls his cock inside and out, so painfully slowly that Kurt starts growing frustrated.
"Faster, please," Kurt begs, and finally Dave listens to him because he starts increasing the speed of his thrusts. "God, yes."
He's still uncomfortable, but it doesn't hurt that much. Dave stops holding Kurt's hips so tightly, and Kurt almost misses the pressure, so he puts his hands over Dave's hands, forcing him to hold him tight.
"Fuck, Kurt," Dave grunts, taking the hint and almost digging his fingers in Kurt's skin. It seems that it turns Dave more, because he starts fucking him harder.
Kurt gasps, quickly placing the palms of his hands against the wall in order not to lose his balance. It's not the most comfortable position; Dave is taller than himself, and being on his feet Kurt doesn't provide much access, making his ass even tighter. So Kurt bends a bit at his waist, bracing himself against the wall, and he pushes himself against Dave.
Dave starts fucking him hard and fast for real now. Kurt is so turned on that he can't process any pain. He moans loudly, hoping that the loud music outside will conceal his voice; he's never been so loud while having sex.
Dave pulls his cock out of Kurt's hole, only to shove it all the way in and Kurt hisses all the air out of his lungs, to then yell in ecstasy, "Oh my God! Yes, there!"
Lord, his prostate... it's been so long! Blaine hardly ever found it, Christian was better at it but he was more focused on jerking him off than making the actual fucking pleasant, and he topped with Francis so… it's so great to feel like this again.
It only encourages Dave, because he keeps on thrusting hard inside Kurt, always burying his cock to the hilt at the exact same angle, making Kurt moan like the biggest whore. Kurt can't believe he's feeling so good, but Dave is fucking him so well that it doesn't make any sense.
Kurt bends over some more, and starts pushing back as fast as he can. Now his prostate is being smashed constantly by Dave's cock, sending constant waves of pleasure to Kurt's brain. He's losing it. He's never felt this hot and aroused while being fucking, and now that he's actually getting pleasure from having some cock in his ass, Kurt's desperate to have all the pleasure he can get.
God only knows all the stuff he didn't know sex can provide!
One of Dave's hands find Kurt's hard cock, fisting it, and Kurt growls loudly. He'd forgotten that he's so painfully hard. It's too overwhelming. Dave keeps his pace, pushing his hard cock in and out, constantly hitting Kurt's prostate while he jerks Kurt's hard erection.
"You're so fucking good," Dave says between breaths.
Kurt can't even say a word, his mouth being dry from so much panting and moaning. And he's too focused on the fucking to process anything coherent anyway. Dave jabs his cock inside him, harder and moving faster. Kurt can feel himself reaching his climax, but he does his best to prevent that from happening.
He needs to enjoy this a little longer.
Kurt's body jerks with the force of each thrust as Dave's fucking gets faster, if that's even possible. Both are breathing raggedly now; Dave slams his cock inside Kurt's now widely stretched hole and Kurt pushes himself towards Dave to help him get deeper.
Until he can't hold it any longer. "God, no," Kurt breathes out, almost devastated. "I- I'm- I'm gonna come."
His muscles tighten around Dave's hard cock. "Oh, fuck!" Dave growls. "Come, come for me," he grunts, squeezing Kurt's cock harder and then all Kurt sees is white.
"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, Dave!"
He comes as hard and as violent as he ever has. He shoots his load against the wall and the floor, and Dave strokes his cock all the way through his orgasm. His body spasms and he quickly goes boneless, but Dave's arms are suddenly around his torso, preventing him from falling to the floor.
Kurt can't move; he's still too dumbstruck and drained, since his orgasm hit him like a truck. Dave holds him on his feet, Kurt's back resting against his chest, as Dave's thrusting his cock faster inside Kurt's ass, still hitting his oversensitive and wretched prostate, and Kurt lets out almost a sob because he can't take this anymore. His body is still processing the big hit of pleasure he just felt from coming so hard, he can't take any more pleasure.
"Just a little more, I'm close too," Dave mutters, slamming harder.
Kurt melts against Dave, panting and moaning. It feels like his own orgasm lingers because of Dave's accurate movements.
After what seems ages but is actually just a few seconds, Dave slams against him one last time, growling loudly his name along with God's. Kurt feels Dave's heavy and erratic breath against the back of his neck, and for some reason, Kurt smiles. Still with his cock buried inside Kurt's ass, Dave stumbles and lets himself fall carefully on the chair in the middle of the booth, where he was supposed to sit for the lap-dance.
Dave takes Kurt with him, and sitting on Dave but still with his back to him, Kurt eases, feeling Dave's body relaxing as well. Kurt could stay there forever. He's content and warm; a pair of strong arms around his torso is holding him tight and everything feels perfect.
But as they start recovering their breaths, the silence starts ringing in Kurt's ears while the music outside sounds louder. Kurt starts cooling off, and the realization of recent events hits him like a slap in the face. His mind is not clouded by lust, or insanity, or whatever it was that possessed him minutes ago.
Kurt is almost panicking. He just had sex with Dave Karofsky! Karofsky's limp cock is still inside him, and Kurt is sitting on his lap being held-
Oh, Lord. What the fuck have I done?
He needs to get out of here. He needs to leave this booth and this club. Probably even the city, or maybe the freaking planet. He just let Dave Karofsky fuck him hard and rough, on his feet against a freaking wall in a lap-dance booth! What the hell is wrong with him?
Kurt carefully stands up. He shivers as he feels Dave's cock sliding out of his ass, and he hears Dave gasping. Then he avoids Dave's gaze. Kurt pulls his underwear and pants up, and mutters what he always says when he's done with a lap-dance. "Show's over. Good night."
He doesn't even stay to listen to Dave say anything. He storms out of the booth, heading as fast as he can to the Staff Room, away from Dave Karofsky. No one is in there and in his solitude, Kurt wants to cry.
What did he do? How come he turned into some needy slut? His gaze falls upon the wall clock, and he's horrified when he notices that it's only half past one. In the last half-hour he stripped in front of people, took a shower, served a table and got fucked by Dave Karofsky. How much time did he spend with Karofsky inside that booth? Ten minutes?
It's even worse when Kurt examines himself in the mirror and finds two huge hickeys on his neck. Stress hits him and suddenly he can't breathe. He doesn't get asthma attacks very often. Sometimes he has to turn to his inhaler at work, since people smoke in the small club. But he's never had an asthma attack triggered by stress before.
Kurt tries to take deep breaths, but every cell in his lungs is constricting and Kurt desperate digs in his locker for his bag in order to find his inhaler. When he does, he takes two puffs of medicine and lets himself fall into a chair as the air slowly expands his lungs.
Now able to breathe better, Kurt thinks again about what he just did. What makes him feel even worse is the fact that he enjoyed it. He moaned and begged like some wanton slut. He never behaved like that with his boyfriends… but he did with some stranger, out of nowhere. He can't stand himself. He can't stand his embarrassment.
He stays in the Staff Room for the next half-hour, hoping that Dave has left. He's so ashamed of himself that he wouldn't be able to deal with facing Dave again, not after what he did. What they did.
Kurt dares to step outside the room around three in the morning, but not before borrowing a neckerchief from one of his colleagues' lockers to conceal the hickeys on his neck. He scans the club and finds no trace of Dave, so he heads to the bar and goes behind it. Princess is surprised to see him.
"Where were you? Are you alright?"
Kurt nods, quickly grabbing some glasses to clean. "My breathing," he lies, but it's a good lie since it's common knowledge at work that he has breathing troubles.
"Oh, honey," Princess says sympathetically. "Shit. On a freaking Saturday? Not your day, hon. But stay here for the rest of the night, okay?"
Kurt nods.
Dave is gone, that's for sure, and the last thing he wants right now is another man groping him or slapping his ass. Kurt only wants to disappear, but it's Saturday night, he can't go back to his place at this hour, and he still needs the cash. He'll already lose all of tonight's tips and lap-dance money.
So even if he still can feel Dave's cock stretching his ass, Dave's hot mouth on his neck and Dave's fingers digging into his hips (Kurt hasn't looked, but he's sure he has bruises there, too) he busies himself with work.
He was stupid, but he still needs to pay his debts, so Kurt focuses in work and pushes all thoughts of Dave Karofsky out of his head.