The Storm

Chapter Two

By Gayforkurt

Summary: David Karofsky is a billionaire who collects beautiful things and people, kidnaps the famous countertenor Kurt Hummel – and suffers for it. NB: Warnings for dubious consent, some bitchiness and sex. Enjoy! Rated: M

A/N: Thank you, you wonderful people, for your kind reviews and also to the folks who've alerted and/or favorited this story! This is very much a work in progress so I won't be posting all of the chapters I've completed at one time. They still need a little bit of tweaking so, please, bear with me. Your reviews feed my passion. Thanks so much!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; Murphy et al do, unfortunately. I'm just playing with them and plan to return them unharmed.

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KHDK

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Kurt didn't know how long he stayed there with his head bowed to his knees as he wept. He knew now why he was naked. He'd read often enough of kidnap victims who were kept naked so they would feel vulnerable. He wept as, given the obvious wealth of this place, his kidnapper was not going to ask his family for ransom. He wasn't stupid: he knew about white slavery and sex slavery. He wept mostly because he knew he would never see his father again.

Now he thought about the fact that he'd never told anyone where his little getaway, his private island was. He realized, too, that maybe he wasn't even anywhere near his own island. He wept at the fact that, even if he could find clothes, he had no idea where in the world he was. He doubted that the workers on this estate would go against their employer's wishes and help him. His mind raced even as he wept, almost fainting with the escalating horror in his mind.

Lifting his head, he cried his heart out, realizing and not caring, that the guard or guards outside could hear him. He finally wiped his face with an edge of the sheet, looked up and gasped again as he realized he was no longer alone. A man had entered silently and now stood by the bedroom door, staring at him impassively.

Kurt scrambled away from the stranger. He was huge! Or at least he appeared that way as Kurt was cringing away into the small space between the patio door and a huge mahogany bureau he had not had time to admire. He stared up at the man as he pulled his knees to his chest, glad that the sheet, though no real protection, still preserved his modesty.

The man didn't move farther into the room but Kurt could see him close his eyes and sigh. He then looked at Kurt again, a furrow between his slanted brows, and spoke.

"Come, you need to eat. You have been asleep for nearly 20 hours." His voice was low, well-modulated and, under other circumstances, Kurt would have found it – and its owner – quite attractive. However, the cool tone and the neutrally-delivered words only served to dry up Kurt's tears and light a fuse to his famous temper.

"I don't need to do anything but get the hell out of here!" Kurt's voice, though slightly hoarse, was strong as he glared at the stranger.

Unexpectedly, the man smiled at this show of spunk on Kurt's part. Here he was, waking up in a strange house, naked and probably hungry, and he was snarling and spitting at his possible kidnapper. David was pleased, very pleased. He knew that acquiring the beautiful and notoriously headstrong Kurt Hummel had been a good decision. He congratulated himself even as he advanced on the smaller man still sitting snugged up into the little corner.

When he was but a few feet away, he crouched down to Kurt's eye level and extended his hand. Kurt cringed away, though his eyes spat darts of hate at him, and folded his arms across his chest. His luscious pink lips that David had admired for so long and finally got to see up close were pulled into a sneering pout, leaving him in no doubt that Kurt was less than impressed with the gesture.

"Let me introduce myself. I am David Karofsky. I don't know if you recognize the name but although I am a business man, I'm also a patron of the arts. You are even more beautiful up close, and though our meeting has been less than sanguine, I am very happy to finally meet you." He smiled ruefully as Kurt's eyes narrowed at the urbane introduction.

Kurt studied the man crouched down before him and, as he did so, he realized to his dismay that he was the embodiment of everything Kurt admired in a lover. David Karofsky looked as if he'd been an athlete in high school and, maybe, college. His physique was muscular and though he probably had not played in years, he still obviously worked out to stay as fit as he looked. Kurt narrowed his eyes as he tried not to stare at the heavily muscled thighs of the man's legs as he was still crouched before him. His eyes, that had seemed so cold when he first entered, were a beautiful green-hazel that now smiled at Kurt. He was not interested in smiling back, however, as this * MONSTER! * had dared to kidnap him and he didn't care how damned attractive he was.

Kurt did recognize the name; Karofsky Industries was an umbrella organization for possibly countless others. The man was a freaking billionaire, a patron of the arts as he said and the owner of one of the most extensive fine arts collections in the world. He often loaned out parts of the collection to various museums and galleries and Kurt himself had even been a beneficiary of his largesse over the years. Karofsky was an avid supporter of the performing arts and had been known to endow several theaters and companies, all in memory of his parents, Paul and Denise Karofsky.

Now, here he was, ostensibly Kurt's kidnapper and he couldn't get his mind around that as he gaped up at the man. "Are you out of your freaking mind? You kidnapped me! This is not some blasted soiree at some_ some bloody society matron's mansion. You have got to be kidding me!"

Kurt's diatribe, while not wholly unexpected, still took David by surprise and he reared back, his eyes widening. He rose to his feet and backed away from the furious singer who looked as if he would like nothing better than to rip David's throat out with his teeth.

Kurt only stopped to take a breath and he surged to his own feet, advancing on the larger man and jabbing his finger into his chest, hard. "I don't care if you're a_ a gazillionaire! You can't go around kidnapping people and_ and keeping them hostage because you want to meet them. Hello! Are you insane? Where are my clothes? I want them now!"

David had stopped moving the first time Kurt's slender index finger had poked his chest and as Kurt's last demand left his mouth, he swooped.

"Mmmph! Urgh_ mmmph!" Kurt wrenched his mouth away from the larger man's and stared, amazed at his audacity. "What the_ mmmph!"

Once more, David attacked Kurt's mouth and didn't let up until the slimmer man stopped struggling to get away. David raised his head and stared into Kurt's frightened eyes, regret forming in his own. This was not how he'd wanted their first kiss to happen but he needed for Kurt to get one thing straight.

His voice was unnaturally quiet when he said: "Every time you yell at me, I will kiss you. Is that clear? Nod if you understand."

Kurt nodded slowly, his huge eyes darting between David's mouth and his eyes. Never in his life had he been forcibly kissed against his will and, honestly, he couldn't tell how he felt about this development. Strangely, he didn't feel very threatened by David, but he was unclear as to what the man really wanted from him.

David nodded also and released him and Kurt finally realized that he had been pressed against David's muscular body the whole time the man had been kissing him. He blushed as he remembered his state of undress and then he glared at the man once more.

"What about my clothes? Am I to be kept like this?" His hackles rose again as David paused, looking as if he were really considering just such a thing. David smiled, however, and shook his head.

"If you promise not to try and escape, you will be allowed clothing. Do you promise?"

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him, his mind whirling with the possibilities, but he nodded, a demure little smile taking up residence on his fair face. "Yes, I promise."

"If you do try to leave without my say-so, you will spend the rest of the time chained to my bed." He knew he didn't mean this but the young singer didn't know that so he narrowed his own eyes at the once-again furious diva, and smiled evenly. "And that is my promise."

He turned on his heel and strode out the door through which Kurt could once again glimpse a waiting guard. He stalked over to the bed and threw himself on it. As he sat cross-legged and cursed the legitimacy of his so-called host's birth, parentage, ancestry, whatever, he slowly took in more of his surroundings. This place was going to be his home for a while; he might as well get familiar.

Minutes later, a knock sounded and the door opened again. The same young woman entered with a tray filled with food, the aroma of which was causing Kurt's stomach to growl softly. It was apparent he had been asleep for much longer than normal and now that he thought about it, he suddenly recalled the frightening feeling of his nose being covered with a reeking square of cloth… and then he knew nothing.

The bastard drugged me, he fumed, he fucking drugged me! Even as he watched the woman make her hesitant way over to the bed and place the laden tray on it, Kurt kept muttering under his breath. When he saw the way she edged away from him as if he were some untamed creature, he tried to smile reassuringly at her.

"Hi, I'm sorry about earlier. Er, thank you?" He pointed to the food and she nodded, relaxing slightly. Her master's guest was a little frightening, though she could understand his earlier distress. Things didn't seem right to her; this young man turning up unannounced and held – apparently against his will – without any clothes. Something was definitely off and even though her employer was a somewhat unpredictable man, she didn't think he would stoop to something like this.

Mr. Karofsky had sometimes brought 'guests' here with whom he enjoyed a very healthy sexual relationship and, though she was not one to judge, in her observations of his habits and the frequency with which he changed partners, she rather thought he was a very lonely man. Though he spent many hours with his lovers, after they left he never seemed happier than he was before they arrived. She had a funny feeling that this young man sitting fuming on the huge bed and glaring at his food was about to change things up – a whole lot.

She watched surreptitiously as Kurt dug into the food. She could see he hadn't eaten in a while and she could also see that he had good manners. He had spread the linen napkin on his lap before taking up the glass of orange juice and downing half of it. Then he tore delicately into one of the delicious croissants, tearing it into pieces and eating them, bit by bit, rather than biting off half as so many people did. Though he ate fast, he wasn't messy either and she hummed to herself in approval. This stranger was not only beautiful but well-mannered, too.

As Kurt ate, she went over to a pair of slatted doors he hadn't noticed earlier and opened them. Kurt realized immediately it was a walk-in closet and he promised himself that after he had taken the edge off of his hunger, he would explore it. The woman rummaged around and then came back out holding a robe.

He watched her while he chewed and as she laid the robe at the foot of the bed, he nodded his thanks. She nodded back at him and then went to the door that he had noticed but hadn't had a chance to check out. As she entered he saw that this was an en suite bathroom and he sighed in relief. A bath would do wonders to restore his equilibrium and he hurried to finish eating.

Having eaten his fill for the moment, Kurt slid off the bed and reached for the robe. He frowned as he looked at it. It looked just like the one he had back home. He brought the sumptuous dark paisley material to his nose and sniffed it. It WAS his robe! What the f_?

He glanced to the exit and thought about the nature of a man who would kidnap someone off the streets yet go to the trouble of collecting said individual's belongings. Had Karofsky's goons been watching and seen when he stowed his things in his car trunk? It seemed obvious and he was curious now. He stalked over to the closet doors and yanked them open, gasping as he saw not only his own things hanging there but newer garments, too, still in their clear plastic wrappings. He looked at the shoe racks and saw his things and also newer footwear. Everything looked as if he himself had bought them.

As he stepped out of the closet, he stared at the bathroom, wondering if he would find his favorite products in there as well. His heart jumped in his throat as he wondered if Karofsky were well and truly mad. Who does shit like this, he wondered, amazed and a little frightened. He moaned softly as he looked out the patio doors, noticing that the sun was beginning its descent into the sea. What would the night bring? Would Karofsky, the madman masquerading as a billionaire entrepreneur, be expecting something from Kurt? Would he expect Kurt to share his bed, in return for his life?

Once again, the tears, that hadn't really been far away, welled in Kurt's aquamarine eyes. He dashed them away angrily, determined he wasn't going to spend one more second weeping like a damsel in distress.

He clenched his fists, crushing his beloved robe in his hands, as he swore that he would find some way to leave this place. He would make David Karofsky pay for doing this to him. He would wish he had never seen him; he swore it as his eyes grew cold. Even if he died doing it, he would make David FUCKING Karofsky pay!

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TBC