Rating: Still M-ish. Language and adult content. Please don't read if you're not of age and comfortable with the thought of "consent" issues.

Pandora's Box

Chapter Two

He woke up cold and alone - definitely the opposite of what he felt last night. He heard the birds annoyingly chirp outside and he squinted at the harsh morning light coming through the window. And his head.

Oh. His poor head.

He held his temple as he groped around for his underwear at least.

...Or his pants.

...Or even his shirt?

In a panic, he realized none of his clothes were near him or even in the barn. Fuck fuck fuck! he thought as he crouched around looking for something to cover up his shame with.

At least he still had his socks and shoes, but considering the circumstances, Dave Karfoksy didn't feel very lucky. He peeked out the window at the main house that was yards away. Nope. This was definitely bad. He was naked, and he didn't really have a good excuse why.

Okay, he did have an excuse... but nothing that would really save his reputation. The most he could hope for was that he got so drunk that he took off all his clothes to go skinny dipping, even though there wasn't a pool or lake for miles. He scratched his head. Where the fuck did his clothes go?

Only one person could be responsible for this. He sneered, making tight fists. That lousy two-timing faggot! A night of pleasure and this is the thanks he gets? No good bye and a shitty prank? What the fuck! As Dave stewed in his anger, he found a pair of dirty and used overalls in the corner. Shaking it clean of bugs and spiders, he put them on, aware of how country he looked. All that was missing was a straw hat and a buckwheat in his mouth. At least it fit.

If anyone from the party saw him like this, they might laugh... but not for long. Not when The Fury was on a murderous path for vengeance. That little shiteating homo, Karofsky growled as he stomped to his car, stealthily avoiding the main house. He's going to regret that.

Even while he thought that as he turned on the engine, he was more hurt that Kurt got up and left him in the hay. Hurt that he would pull something like that on him. He thought that Kurt enjoyed himself last night as evidenced by how sticky Dave's belly was.

Then again, it wasn't in Karofsky's cards to sleep with him last night either... And now despite his intention of liquoring the boy up to not remember, he saw who it was anyway and put two and two together. If he wouldn't tell about the kiss, he'd definitely start gabbing away about a delicious fuck, especially with the most homophobic jock in Lima. He started to bang his head against the back of the seat. Stupid, stupid, he thought. What was he thinking fucking that boy? Some experiment. It didn't quench his thirst; it only increased it. Now he was even more confused... and it didn't help that he wouldn't mind another repeat of last night's actions, maybe even sober-

No. Nonono. This was not happening again. That was it. Last night was the first, the only, and the last time it would ever happen to him. There were definitely not going to be any "repeats" or "more ofs" or even "maybes."

...Definitely no "maybes."

He let out a sigh as he drove down the long road beside the cornfields. It was eerily beautiful and at night it was fun to go into the cornstalks with a lover (so he heard) and well, fuck under the stars. Hmph. Whatever. Probably overrated. Look where fucking got him-

He started to yell angrily, hating the situation. "God DAMMIT, why does it have to be so fucking complicated? HUMMEL! You PIECE of SHIT!" He screamed into the sky out of his car window. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

I mean, seriously... Who did he think he was just leaving him like that? All alone, defenseless, NAKED... Christ, now he was starting to think like a chick. This boy was screwing him up in more ways than one.

And he was dressed like a fucking farmer.

It was taking a lot of willpower (seriously, a lot of willpower) not to drive into any signs, just so to create some physical damage. Hummel was going to pay for this. He had it made and then he screwed it up.

Yeah. Hummel was going to regret this.

Thing was, he already did.

It felt like everything around him was separate... like time was somehow slower and Kurt was on a different frequency than the rest of the world. Or painted in color, and he was black and white and whitenoise. It was taking a lot for him just to keep breathing normally. In... out... in... out... Hell, he didn't even get to change properly. He had settled for a replacement shirt in his locker and he knew that wasn't going to last while he was at school. Everything about him reeked and he tried not to think about it as he sprayed on some cologne. Through the masked aroma, he could still smell himself. He could still smell him. It made him want to throw up.

He needed a shower. As soon as lunch was came around, he was going to the lockers. He closed his eyes. But would he be there? His - he couldn't even bring himself to say it. It was so vulgar, so surreal... it couldn't be happening to him. Only three weeks ago, he had never been kissed by another boy. And then that changed... how could so much happen so quickly?

Why did he go to that party? More importantly, why didn't he leave when he saw Karofsky there, with that scowl on his face, chugging down drinks like no tomorrow? It was bad news. He could feel the vibrations in the air telling him to go home while he had the chance. But he took the coward's way out: he took a refreshment and sat on the porch, sipping the hard alcohol-laced drink as he tried to think of a plan to enjoy the party in peace.

...And then the next thing he knows, he's waking up next to that big behemoth, arms and legs entangled, NAKED...

He put a hand to his face, going red from the embarrassment and shame. That monster stole so many firsts from him... what was going to stop him from doing more? What was he going to do next? Was this it - living his life trembling in the shadow of a predator? If it was frightening for him before, it was terrifying now, and strangely, he longed for the days of past when Karofsky's bullying meant only shoves and verbal harassment. Since Kurt tested his temper that fateful day in the locker, the bully kept pushing and pushing until... rape.

That morning when he woke up in the hay, it was strange what he felt. It was a content feeling as he looked up at the rafters, content turning into confusion as to where he was. He turned his head and saw his bully's face, and all those feelings of horror, disgust, and shock he felt when Karofsky kissed him came back twentyfold. He looked down at Karofsky's body which was naked... then he looked at his own and had to cover his mouth to keep the noise in. He wanted to scream at his bad luck; he wanted to kill Karofsky then and there. Would that Neanderthal stop at nothing to fuck up his life? Kurt hated him so much then and there, and when he tried to move from the bigger boy's arms, the bastard had the gall to tighten them as if Kurt was a possession! It was a frightening struggle to have with an unconscious person when he finally broke free and then winced as he got up. He timidly put a hand on his tender rump, eyes widening when he realized what exactly happened.

...There were no words to accurately describe how pissed Kurt was. Pissed wasn't even it. Ravaged by rage. Absolutely livid. He was quaking with anger as he got dressed, not even wanting to look at Karofsky again - ever. He was tempted to kick the other boy in the most sensitive area imaginable (and the one that caused the offense) but the thought of dealing with Karofsky shook him and he let it be for now. Just as he was about to walk away, he noticed the jock's clothing all around and sneered. It wasn't enough to get back at him, but for the moment it would do, he thought as he picked up all of the jock's stinky, gross clothing (mindful to keep that sneer all the way through the chore) and take it with him into his car.

Teach him a little thing about humiliation and fucking around with smarter 'homos.'

He was just in time for school, only a slightly tardy for class. He didn't know why he showed up anyway. His nerves were way too frazzled to bother with putting up appearances. Despite this, Kurt knew that if he didn't try and seem okay today, they would win... if he didn't fake it, he was going to fall to pieces in a big way. Maybe in such a way that couldn't be repaired.

He kept breathing, looking at a sheet of paper he borrowed from a student. He was totally unprepared for everything today in more ways than one; he had none of his school gear, and his outfit not only smelled like alcohol, it was mismatched and dirty - which only frayed his worn nerves. It was tainted now anyway. He'd have to burn it when he found the chance, just so the reminder of the worst night of his life was gone from the world. The pencil in his hand was close to snapping as he flexed it every so often. When Mercedes greeted him in the hallway, he made some excuse just to get away; he didn't want her to know - he didn't want anyone to know how he let himself be the victim in such a scenario. He felt so weak, so disgusting... he couldn't believe Karofsky used him like that.

I hate him, he thought. I hate him so much. To go so far to do... ugh.

What was the point? Was it to show Kurt how feeble he really was when he was up against a big strong 'man'? He almost scoffed. He wished that was why. It was just another way to wear Kurt down, wear him down until there was nothing left and he was a vacant, broken pushover like how they all wanted him to be. He thought back to the party with Karofsky surrounded by all of his dumb jock friends - were they in on it? He didn't want to think it was a prank... a joke that went too far. No, that was impossible. Finn would've stopped them... and Karofsky would've never let himself be painted in fairy color - not publicly, anyway. Kurt especially didn't want to come to terms that maybe Karofsky was attracted to him and this was his brainless attempt at starting a relationship. The boy was so repressed, Kurt could go spelunking in Karofsky's closet.

He tried to think back to the last thing he remembered: he remembered stumbling and a hand pulling him up. And he remembered a large figure over him asking if he was alright... and then it got a bit fuzzy. At the same time, Kurt felt like such an idiot for not realizing who it was earlier in his drunken stupor. It was like he was one of those girls they tell stories about... how was he supposed to know that that warning applied for boys as well? He tried not to let it get to him even though it did - it really did. He thought he knew better... but really he was just some uninformed rube.

Kurt grimaced when he moved around, feeling the sticky skin of his belly stretch in an uncomfortable and gross way. He didn't know what it was, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The irritation didn't compare to his sore ass; he couldn't believe that Dave Karofsky actually was IN him at one point. He shuddered, gaining a few curious glances around him. He felt unclean and dehydrated, gripping the desk as he waited to be excused to at least use a moist toilette on himself. Maybe several boxes of moist toilettes.

...Make that several hundred.

"Kurt," a whisper and nudge to his side, and he froze. Oh god, what if it was him. They didn't share this class but Gaga knows what that monster was capable of pulling now. He looked hesitantly over and it was Brittney with her big smile. He tried to mirror hers, no doubt appearing strained. At least it wasn't who he feared it was.

"Heeey Brittney. Fancy meeting you here," he quietly said, finally appreciating her lack of intelligence for once. She wouldn't suspect anything about his behavior.

"Where'd you go last night? I looked for you."

"Last night?" he pretended not to know.

"The party. You disappeared."

"Oh, yeah, that." What could he say? 'Yeah, about that, I ditched the party to get date raped by -guess who- Dave Karofsky, torturer extraordinaire. I usually do that when parties get dull. 'Cus that's how I roll.' He rolled his eyes. What was he supposed to do? Lie? A lie felt like he was protecting Karofsky, and he really didn't want to do that. Meanwhile, telling the truth would just spiral into a rumor, especially with Brittney. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. "Umm.. I just... had a little too much to drink, I guess." Not a lie, but not exactly the truth either. Good job, morality, he thought to himself.

"Oh yeah, Santana did too. She puked all the way home. I think."

"Right," he said, not really caring to carry on the conversation.

He was glad that she lost interest in him and slid down his chair, slouching terribly for once in his life. Why did it feel like the clock was only ticking backwards for him? And why did he feel like he was exposed for everyone to see... especially in his bully's native environment?

When the bell rang and he hobbled awkwardly to the men's room, he passed the locker room on the way and paused, wondering if it was safe to go in and take a quick shower. He smelled filthy, like sweat and other excretions he'd rather not think about (not when it involved that-that thing!) The sooner he was clean, even if it meant scrubbed raw, the better rationale he'd be in.

A moment of indecision as other students passed him the hall, and when he saw the Letterman jacket in the distance, he nearly ran into the locker... the very den of what he was trying to escape.

Once inside, he went to his locker and undressed, constantly looking around to see if anyone was watching. He wasn't ever this self conscious before but after last night... after this morning, he felt shaken in a way that he hadn't before. It was funny in a way; he thought he couldn't handle the shoving and insults... but it was nothing compared to this. He took his bathrobe and covered himself with it, happy it went down to his calves. He needed all the coverage he could get. He fished out his loofah, slippers, and peppermint bar of soap and sighed, letting a small (genuine) smile grace his face for the first time that day. It was going to get better; he saw that now. What happened earlier was rock bottom and he wasn't going to let it own him - especially if he never thought about it again.

Despite this he hurriedly went into the stall, mindful to pick the one with the most privacy. It would've been ironic for the jocks (if they could grasp the concept of irony, that is) to see the queer so worried about being seen naked, rather than the other way around. He gave one last look around as he turned on the shower and disrobed, closing his eyes as he lathered up. When he touched the tender areas he couldn't help but grimace as he softly massaged the spots. He must've been in the shower for fifteen minutes when he noticed how pruney his fingers were. And still he didn't feel clean. Five more minutes, he thought, and then I need to get out of here. It was stupid to come back to the scene of a crime where he had been assaulted... even worse to be at a place he knew that Karofsky was eventually going to be. How was he going to face him after today? Just thinking about him made him both enraged and fearful.

"You missed a spot."

Speak of the devil.

He froze under the hot water, his skin prickling despite the heat of the steam. He could feel his gaze now, all over his naked, wet body. He wished he had his robe on. He wished he didn't come in here. He wished he went straight home. He wished he never met Dave Karofsky.

Kurt couldn't trust his voice to speak and stayed motionless, hoping this wasn't what he thought it was: alone with his bully, in the showers... him unclothed and defenseless (again) and him with all the cards at his disposal. Despite this and his fear, he bristled internally. Why the fuck was he getting pushed around by this dumb jock? He was sick of this; he didn't deserve any of this. Not once did he ever so much as glance at him unless Karofsky was starting some trouble. He never asked for any of this. Was this Karofsky's perverse idea of a romance? Sneaking up on somebody in the shower? Drugging them into sexual coercion? What next? Fucking on the stage with an audience watching?

Even though the last thought was a sarcastic lark, he felt a twitch in his loins that he couldn't ignore and (worse) was ashamed to have Karofsky potentially see.

"What do you want?" Kurt said finally after a few moments of silence, a shaky hand moving the bar of soap around more for show and to cover himself than for any actual cleansing. He felt as dirty as before. He reached for the faucet when he heard the stall next to him start. He turned and saw a naked Karofsky eying him as he got under the water. Only a board separated them, and anyone could peek over to see what the other had to offer. Something like that would've definitely made him mincemeat for the jocks, and yet here was a jock doing it to him, unabashedly checking him out...

"Just showering. Rolled around in the hay last night." Kurt winced as Karofsky continued. "And then I couldn't find my clothes, so I had to wear this shit-covered overall crap." Despite the tension, Kurt let a sly smirk grace his lips and Karofsky saw.

"It pissed me the fuck off, Hummel."

"Good!" Kurt retorted, happy he got to him. "Because this morning wasn't a fucking peach for me either."

Karofsky was obviously trying to keep his cool, comical while he was being pelted with water. "So what, you're saying is ladyface didn't have a cozy time doing her fag speciality?"

"Do you even hear yourself talk," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. He turned off the faucet, eager to leave. The more he talked with him, the more it reminded him something between them happened... something that he wasn't sure he gave consent to. No, he had to not given consent. Why would he ever say yes to that? Karofsky watched the departure with displeasure.

"Don't you walk away from me."

"And why shouldn't I?" Kurt said as airily as he could. "I've got more important things to do and more important people to see." His confidence was coming back (ironically) in front of the person who shattered it. He grabbed his robe and began to put it on when he was pressed against the tile wall. A mouth was by his ear, "Because you missed a spot."

His fear went up volumes and he opened his mouth to scream. It was covered by a hand as the mouth began to kiss and suck his ear. Kurt's eyes fluttered as the pleasure coursed through him and his body immediately arched, grinding his bottom into something hard. Karofsky.

There was a slight laugh. "If I didn't know better, I could swear you enjoyed that. ...You do, don't you?"

Kurt glared at the tiles, opening his mouth to bite a finger but it was taken away. Instead his hair was pulled as he was pressed harder into the tile. "You're making this worse on yourself, Hummel," he said, as a hand went around into the robe and found something that made Kurt gasp. "This can be easy... or this can be hard. I can go both ways."

"That's what I hear," Kurt quipped, not able to keep his mouth shut.

Karofsky snarled, gripping Kurt's cock painfully. Even with that insult, Karofsky kissed Kurt's neck, biting it so the boy moaned and lolled his head to allow more access - exactly what Karofsky wanted. He licked up and down, savoring the clean taste (but secretly liking the taste of Kurt's sweat and natural phermones instead). "Not so funny now, huh," he murmured into the boy's wet hair as he hiked up the robe so that their skin would make contact below. Kurt let out a sharp gasp, twisting around.

"No, please, you can't-"

"I can do whatever I want, Hummel."

Kurt turned his head to look Karofsky in the eyes. "Please. Don't." There was something that gave him pause, something that wasn't there last night. It was lust at the party... and there was lust now. But Dave saw something else that he didn't know what to make of or even name. It said: this, definitely don't push. This is a limit for me that must not be broken. As much as he liked seeing the boy upset, he felt this wasn't worth it. Whatever it was, he backed up, letting the robe fall between them as a barrier and instead, embraced Kurt to him. He put his face to the crook of the smaller boy's neck and inhaled. His hands were absently playing with the front of the robe, barely touching Kurt's bare chest. All the while his heart was racing from the fear (and the anticipation.)

"You left me alone. That wasn't cool."

"Sorry, I didn't know I had a post-devirginizing contract with you to be with you after every deflowering." Could this guy really be that idiotic? Of course he wasn't going to stay and have brunch with his rapist!

"Stop using big words, Hummel," he growled, and Kurt felt the vibration on his throat. He gulped, his groin tightening. He felt confused and wanted this over - he didn't want to be around someone who made him feel like hating him and submitting to him at the same time.

"Then stop this and leave me alone."

Karofsky let out a harsh laugh so near to Kurt's ear that he winced from the volume. "Not that easy." He meant it. It really wasn't. He came in with the sole intention of changing into his gym clothes for the rest of the day and when he saw Kurt, so beautiful and pale under the hot water, soaping himself up - needless to say, it changed his plans. He resisted as much as he could but the sight of the beads on that perfect back, that slight smile on his face... it was like he was becoming a different person since last night. He was under a hypnotic trance whenever he smelled... tasted... hell, whenever he saw those eyes, he just burned for a release.

...And never got it. Not even last night was he satisfied. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he would've tried something on Kurt if they woke up side by side like how he expected (wanted). It would've never ended with just last night... he knew that now as he put his nose to the nape of Kurt's neck. "I can't," he wanted to say but didn't. He wanted to say, "I really can't leave you alone. You don't think I'd love nothing more but to never see your face again? To feel this way? To do these things? I hate it. I hate you. I want to quit. I want to so bad... but it's too late now." Instead he just grabbed the boy's hair in a sudden fit of anger at himself and bit the boy's neck, loving his cry of pain (and pleasure...)

"Someone could see," Kurt said, hoping that Karofsky's fear of exposure would trump whatever kept him practically dry humping his behind. Those words immediately stopped the wave of assault Karofsky was feeding him and reluctantly he stepped away. Kurt let out a sigh of relief, only to be forcefully flipped around, his back to the wall. Karofsky's lips were on his and he resisted, trying to twist away, his hands on Karofsky's strong arms to push him away. But Karofsky knew what buttons to push as he grabbing Kurt's bare ass underneath the robe, his own erection through the towel rubbing against Kurt's member. The combination did the trick; Kurt opened his mouth in both the pleasure at the sensation and the surprise of the actions. Karofsky's tongue went in, tasting Kurt for the second time in the 24 hour period. There wasn't much alcohol left - only pure Kurt.

Why does he have to taste so good, he thought.

He noticed Kurt wasn't kissing back and bit his lip hard enough to make the boy gasp and flick out his tongue. Only by accident (Kurt later justified) did his tongue brush against Karofsky, causing a moan in the latter. He started to massage the pale boy's buttocks, breaking the kiss to focus on his neck which almost made Kurt swoon.

No, he had to get a grip. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let him do this to him. Not again - not anymore. "No, stop!" He struggled, even though his breathing was heavy from the arousal. "I said STOP!" Karofsky did, looking up in surprise.

"What, don't you like-"

"It doesn't matter what I like. You can't keep doing this to me. You can't keep touching me like I'm yours. I'm not. You-" he gulped, getting his breath as he let the accusation fall from his lips, "you raped me last night."

His tormentor was silent. It was odd having this conversation in the locker showers, both near naked. Karofsky looked upset as he tried to keep his temper in check. It was a bombshell to be confronted so directly; but then again, Kurt was as direct as it got. He looked away, breathing in and out heavily. "Rape. You're going with that word choice, huh."

"Well, what else do you call it?" Kurt was in tears, his hands going everywhere in the air as he talked. "You drug me, take off my clothes, take my virginity-" He put a hand to his mouth. How he hated this boy in front of him. He wished he was dead; but even death might be too good for someone as despicable as him. "I don't know how you could live with yourself."

Karofsky looked a little struck with the shock of that statement. "It was your first time?"

"DUH!" Kurt couldn't believe his ears. Karofsky really was a dum-dum. How many times did it have to be hammered home? "Hello, only gay kid at school. No boyfriend. No action."

There was an uneasy silence as Karofsky weighed this. He knew first times meant a lot to girls... and Hummel was about as girly as it got. What was an impulse for Dave was a big deal for the boy he couldn't help but be attracted to. Okay, now he felt pretty god damn shitty. "Do... do you remember any of it?"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Kurt glared as he started to move past him. How dare Karofsky even ask him that. "Don't ever touch me again, or you'll regret it."

His eyes trailed down as he saw the rather large erection in front of him. He stepped back, startled, his eyes widening. He'd never seen one-that is to say that he never had a real erection so up close and in front of him... that he caused (save for his own, of course). He subconsciously put a hand over his groin, whether to cover it or something else, it was unclear even to Kurt. He blinked. His cheeks colored as he kept thinking "Look away, look away, oh my god, look away" but couldn't.

It was Karofsky who broke the reverie. "Kurt," he finally said, arching an eyebrow.

Kurt finally snapped out of it, blushing when he realized what he was doing, and immediately grabbed his things. He threw on his clothes, not even paying attention to what order he put them on or what the final result looked like - as long as he was gone within two minutes. He nearly sprinted out the door by the time Karofsky walked out the showers, holding out something.

"Hey, Hummel, you forgot..." He trailed off, looking down at the fluffy white spa slipper in his hand. "Your damn slipper."

I got a review that complained about not labeling it non-con. And then Camunki (omg Camunki herself read this - insaaaaane) said it was more dub-con (dubious consent) and I'm inclined to agree. The lines of consent were purposefully blurry with the first chapter since both parties were drunk, even though it was premeditated somewhat for Karofsky. And it'll continue that way (the blurred grey area of consent).

HOWEVER I must say "Sorry! I didn't really think of it as rape or nonconsensual until maybe earlier the morning after I wrote it (I wrote it all including the past chapter last night)... and even then, I'm playing around with the idea of consent since I'm characterizing Karfosky as so possessive and controlling sexually [not that this is a good thing, fyi]. Kurt doesn't know what he wants; he's horny, but he doesn't know what to make of being desired by someone who makes his life unbearable. Despite that, he can't help but like the advances Karfosky is giving him (but he'd never admit that.) And it is pretty sexy to be hunted like prey in a sense (when it's consensual.)"

*shrug* I'm just making it up as I go along!

Thanks for reviews, positive feedback, and story alerts. ^_^ I was really afraid of posting something like that because it's not only graphic, but it paints a dark sexual atmosphere that I personally find erotic. Fluff is great and all, but when it gets down to it, it's the dirty, kinky stuff that gets us off. :X I'm not sure how long this is going to be... like I said - I'm sort of making it up as I go along. I have a few really hot ideas that I'd love to explore and then maybe the story is wrapped? Who knows. With a name like Pandora's Box, it'd be very hard ending. (Pun intended.)