Ownership Disclaimer: Glee? Oh come on, really wish it were so, but unfortunately it is not I who owns that delightful bunch of Hunnies. But I am lucky enough to have a shmart imagination, and that's fantastic and fun to share. And so much more ...
Music Inspiration: If I Had You, Adam Lambert
Rating: M. Mature subjects. Like seriously if you're not old enough, then please leave the room. Come back when you're older, this'll still be here.
This story is: Hurt, such as Hunter!Kurt. With assistance from Dr Blaine Anderson and Nursey Rachel Berry.
Trigger Warnings: Drugged scenes and death mentions. S/M or if you prefer the term D/S relationships.
A Thank you to: Whirlymerle from fictionpress dot com, a story of this author's has really grabbed me, and I'm just plain appreciative of a decent story with some intelligence.
~ Kurt's Kink? ~
Hunter, slightly drunk, no that's a lie, he was very drunk, and also enjoying the release of inhibitions. Ahh yes, drink and drugs, they make everything fun, relaxing and possible. He rests on one of his friend's shoulders, the smile on his face couldn't be any wider.
He looks down to Kurt and declares, "Your turn Kurt." And Kurt looks at the circle of people, looking at him.
"What's my turn?" Turning to his right and trying to focus on Hunter's face, but his eyes move around the face and that mouth is so desirable and yummy looking with such a big, BIG smile!
Wait the smile is moving and a sound is coming out. "You have to tell us your favourite kink!"
~ o ~
Kurt takes a breath in, trying to focus on Hunter, looking around for Rachel. "Where's Rachel?"
"Rachel couldn't come with us, Kurt. Don't you remember?" says Claire.
"I don't feel very well?" he finally manages to admit.
"I'll help you buddy." Hunter pushes his friend's shoulder down as he gets up.
"Wow, you're like, so big Hunter." Kurt's eyes were wide with taking in all of Hunter that he could see, which under the influence of what he'd ingested, Hunter was occupying the whole room.
"Come on, let's help you up." Looking left, one of Hunter's friends takes his arm, Hunter takes his right. They slightly stumble him to a guest room, and lay him down.
"Here you go buddy!" Hunter sits on the bed with him, throwing a red rug over his shoulders.
"Thanks Hunnnnterrrrrrr." Kurt says, "But I might need ahhhh buckettttt tooooooo!"
Hunter makes it to the en suite, via the bookshelf, the closet, the chest of drawers that had to be checked twice. He finds a bucket under the sink, fixes a warm wet cloth, grabs a flower from a vase and lets that sit from his mouth, then splashes some cologne on his neck.
"Hunter!" Kurt calls out. "Where the fffffff are you?"
Hunter checks himself in the mirror, he looks pretty darn good. He picks up what he was supposed to fetch, annnnnd more, and goes back to Kurt.
Slumping to alongside Kurt, bucket held for him to be sick in. "How you doing buddy?" He lifts the bucket up for Kurt, who just happens to look up with drowsy eyes to Hunter's.
Kurt half smiles, then grabs the bucket and dry wretches into it. "Oh buddy, buddy, buddyyy!"
Wiping Kurt's forehead with the washcloth and throwing a towel at him, Hunter sobers up with a wave of sympathy and revulsion.
The air quickly turns vile from the scent of Kurt's heaving and Hunter's tandem of throwing his stomach contents into the other towel.
Kurt settles, hugs the bucket to the side of the bed and looks to Hunter. The towel he'd used was a lousy receptacle, a hand on either side of it, Hunter knows he'll be in big trouble from their host.
There's a knock on the door, they raise their heads as Claire opens it and looks around. "Oh God Hunter!" Is all she manages, a hand over her mouth as she goes to the en suite for things to clean up his mess.
"I'm so sorry Claire."
"It's alright, I'll clean you up and then we'll get you two home." All things considered, she'd thought it had been a great party, catching up with friends, Hunter behaving himself and clearly entertained with Kurt. After wiping his mess she goes for mouth wash, clean towels and fresh wash cloths. "Here, swish this and spit."
Hunter does as she instructs, Kurt with his head rested on his hands on a pillow, is mesmerized by Hunter's receiving of being mothered by Claire. Inside he's giggling and fighting with butterflies of emotion. He looks to Claire, she frowns at him, but not as menacing he notes. "Nearly your turn Kurt. I'll just freshen these up and come back to you."
She makes for the en suite and comes back to him. With a fresh cloth she wipes his face, wipes off bits of vomit on the edge of the bed cover, he smiles at her. "Don't think you're scott free of being in trouble!" He smiles more, he thinks she's not as frightening as Rachel, and he stops smiling. "Yes Rachel is going to probably yell at you louder than I am!" Can she read thoughts?
"Your car is nearly ready Claire." A friend has said from the doorway.
~ o ~
The room is spinning for Kurt, and the wallpaper is coming to life with the furniture. He closes his eyes, willing himself back to sleep, to blend into the bed, to move into the heat in his back.
The heat in his back is rising in intensity up into his shoulders, between his shoulder blades and warming over his neck. He turns over, thinking he must be home with an old school friend. Not sure of when or how he got home, but the bed feels like home and the warmth has the intoxicating scent of the same cologne as his school friend. His school friend who had been confiding in Kurt one day about conflicting emotions for guyz and girls, and stayed over a few times.
But the old school friend had died, hung himself, his father had found him, Kurt had been a pall bearer at the funeral. His brother had read Bible verses during the service and the school Glee club had sung hymns.
This blurr of heat and scent, can't be that friend. Trying to open his eyes, he can make out a shape, but it seems more of a colour essence than a solid form. His own hands reach out to embrace, and bring in the purity to his heart.
Bright orange and white flow in and around him, brilliant blue's mix with a satin black swirling to a dark green, moving over his face about his ears and settle around is head. His feet are warm and numb, his legs warm and fade. His stomach is free from aching, with residue haunts of brown, he wonders of breathing like whales and sharks and dolphins, his lungs fill with the silver grey of their gills.
He must be in Heaven. Only Heaven can feel this great, this serene, this bliss.
Welcoming the blend of good feelings his tongue tastes chocolate and peppermint, sweet kittens purr in his ears and chase puppy dogs that pant.
~ o ~
Kurt's face contorts as he carefully stretches long, his hands touch the cool metal of a gold piping bed head, his body aches bad. Reminders of an intense exercise work out regime not coming any where near to how sore he feels just now. Pushing his feet out from the warmth of the bed covers, the cooler air actually sting his ankles. He breathes in, smelling fresh sheets and pillows of someone else's bed.
Blue and red lights are flashing in his eyes, he squints. A stale flavour in his mouth has replaced something lovely. Something his mind is missing, something of a someone. Someone who seems to equal Hunter Clarington the Third!
His eyes pop open wide, an alarm bell has sounded once. He holds his breath, his heart beat racing, strongly aware of an arm heavy on his chest, the alam bell clangs. Slowly breathing out he turns his head to the right, and looks at maybe a nightmare come true, he brings his hands back down and pushes gently away from Hunter.
"Um, Hunter?"
Hunter wakes up to the delightful sound of Kurt's voice. He breathes in a clean scent, mixed with disinfectant. He feels Kurt pull away, his arm over that chest holds Kurt in place. The smile on his face widens with a sneer.
Turning his head toward Kurt, Hunter opens a single eye, giving a look of ownership, he licks his lips and a deepening growl rumbles.
Sunlight shines brightly through the colourful window hanging crystal, twinkling bright into Hunter's and Kurt's eyes.
That central growl, piercing look, the arm and hand that holds, the breath and movement of lips gives Kurt an urgent surge in his lower region, a surge of excitement, desire and lust, and being owned.
The growl is replaced with a deeper stern voice, "About time you woke up, it's been four days!"
