The Storm

Chapter Five

By Gayforkurt

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

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 had decided that after breakfast he would explore this beautiful house. With the winds ramping up, he knew they were in for a bit of weather. He had experienced tropical storms before and wasn't afraid of them. He knew this huge, gorgeous house was probably built to hurricane standards; a billionaire would expect and accept nothing less, he was sure.

Smiling to himself, Kurt headed down corridor after corridor, trying to get his bearings. Upon turning at the end of one corridor into another, he heard a door opening up ahead and the sound of David Karofsky laughing with another man. Kurt drew back quickly then leaned just his head out. At the other end, just emerging from a room was his kidnapper laughing and bantering with a tall, muscular guy who walked like a predator.

Kurt narrowed his eyes, his lips tightening as an idea leapt to the forefront of his mind. Maybe he had just found a way to make David Karofsky pay. He let out a little huff that could, maybe, just barely pass as a laugh, and continued on his mission of exploration.

It was only as he gradually registered the enticing aroma coming from one direction that he realized he'd subconsciously headed towards the kitchen. Before he stepped into the huge, hot room and stopped just within the doorway, he readjusted his facial expression. Dropping his shoulders slightly and making his bottom lip quiver, he moved slowly into the room. He was, to all who looked up and saw him, a poor waif who had just wandered into a warm haven. His huge sad eyes implored the watching staff to ask immediately after his wellbeing.

"Are you okay, Mr. Kurt?" Petal's distinctively musical voice was the only one he recognized, of course, and he turned to her gratefully. His own voice, so famous for its soft, feminine tones, sounded immensely remorseful as he gazed at the concerned faces looking back at him.

"I, uhm, wanted to apologize for before… at breakfast?" He let his eyes moisten slightly and his voice quiver ever so slightly. "I was really hungry but…" and here he bit his plump bottom lip and lowered his head a bit. "I found I lost my appetite." He took a shuddering breath and looked apologetically at the spellbound staff. Really, this was such a great performance; one of his best, if he said so himself.

He felt a little bad, though, as the kind-hearted staff rushed to assure him that it was no bother. One buxom woman with a more than passing resemblance to Petal in a pink tunic with a white over-apron actually patted him gently on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mr. Kurt, we can see that you don't really eat much. In fact, you look like you could use a couple of good meals in you." She burst out into rich chuckles and some of the other folk joined in. Kurt actually found himself smiling because, truly, he had nothing against these honest people. He looked at the woman and smiled gratefully.

Petal bounced up to introduce her mother, Mrs. Afflick, and the rest of the workers, but Kurt knew he couldn't remember all their names. He was ushered to a seat by one of the windows and someone pushed a serviette with a warm, fruit-filled pastry into his hand. Someone else placed a cool glass of milk on the table beside him and he ate and chatted with the voluble mob. Clearly they didn't often have guests come to the kitchen and they were happy to regale Kurt with accounts of the famous people who had visited the Karofsky estate and ply Kurt with questions about his own life back on the mainland.

All in all, Kurt spent nearly an hour in the kitchen, occasionally nibbling on the goodies that Mama Afflick, as the others called her, kept pressing on him. Whew, Kurt thought, as he finally made his excuses and escaped the warm kitchen; I definitely need to work off all this food. As he thought of this, he turned back and asked Petal if there were a gym in the house.

"Oh, but, Mr. Kurt, boss usually works out at this time, y'know," her melodious accent grew stronger as she looked at Kurt apologetically. "You still want to go?"

Kurt assured her that he didn't care who else was using the gym, he wanted to work out and he was going to do it.

After memorizing the way to the gym from his bedroom, Kurt hurried to change into workout clothes. Even when on holiday, he rarely skipped his exercise routines. It was a fallacy that all opera singers were huge; certainly some famous ones had been, but the smart ones knew that being fit helped a lot with breath control. Stamina was important in both the bedroom and on the stage, he had always said.

He took another quick shower to cool down after the heat of the kitchen, and changed into his favorite vibrant purple gym wear, knowing that the color did wonders for his skin tone and grabbed a towel from the linen closet in the bathroom. Today he actually felt good, unlike the day before when all he could do was react to the situation in which he'd found himself. He knew his temper had got the better of him but he didn't regret his treatment of his captor. The damned man deserved every bit of his ire – and more.

Kurt observed his reflection and smirked. He looked really good and if he could rub that into Karofsky's face, knowing that the man wanted him, but making him realize he would never have him – all the better.

Humming an aria happily, he recalled Petal's directions and headed towards the gym. As he arrived outside the doors, he hauled on a superior expression and barged in. As he entered he quickly took stock of the place, noticing the various equipment and feeling quite pleased that everything he needed would be there. There was even what appeared to be a mini bar and he was sure it was stocked with juices and bottled water.

He sauntered over to the cardio area, placed his towel on the handle bar of one of the elliptical striders and then acted as if he was surprised to find two other people there.

His eyes flashed as he stared haughtily at the men who stared back. Oh my, they really were_ Kurt quickly derailed that line of thought as he took in the sweaty, muscular, half-dressed men who had clearly been working on maintaining already perfect muscles. Kurt tilted his nose in the air and turned his back on them, pretending not to hear Karofsky's gasp as he bent over to tighten the laces on one of his trainers.

His smirk was hidden as he knew the picture he made. Lovers and friends had always complimented him on his looks, but some of the most fervent praise had been reserved for his ass and legs. The shiny purple bike shorts he was wearing left very little to the imagination as he never wore underwear when he worked out. Straightening up, he almost laughed when he heard another voice swear; the bunching of his ass muscles, his thigh muscles and calves had mesmerized more than one man, and not a few women, before this.

Pretending to ignore the two Neanderthals drooling behind him, Kurt climbed onto the machine and turned it on, setting the controls for a gradual increase in the speed and incline. Truly though, as the exercise claimed more and more of his attention, he gradually forgot the other two men. Most of the time, when he worked out, he went over music in his head, especially as now he didn't have his iPod with him. He often rehearsed whole pieces in his head, his eyes closed and his body working on autopilot.

Across the room, however, Dave and Puck watched as the slender but toned legs powered up and down, each lost in his own no doubt lascivious thoughts. They continued lifting weights and counting reps, but part of their attention remained fixed on the enticing body of the world's most annoying singer.

Puck caught himself marveling that yes, he could now see what Dave had found so fascinating. Never having heard Kurt sing he couldn't speak to that talent but Puck found himself wondering how flexible Kurt was in bed. Certainly, with a body like that, he had to be good!

As Dave watched Kurt concentrating on his workout regimen, he knew he was in trouble. Kurt had yet to acknowledge their presence and his pride smarted at the snub. Still, a part of him knew he had only himself to blame for the state of affairs between them. However, an even larger part of him yearned to just go over and apologize to the singer and let him know he planned to have him returned home as soon as possible.

Dave closed his eyes to block out the flexing movements of Kurt's ass and legs. He had been hard since Kurt had stalked into the gym, and he knew if he got up now, the movement might make Kurt look over at him and he didn't want to be further humiliated if the diva saw his arousal.

Puck, sensing his boss's increasing tension, decided he would cut his workout short and leave the two men to try and sort things out between them. He nodded to Dave, grabbed his water bottle and towel, and without even glancing at Kurt, left the gym.

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KHDK

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Deciding that he was too distracted to continue working on his weights, Dave decided to brave the killing frost and venture into the cardio area. He placed the weights back into their slot with a loud clang and grabbed his towel. As he strode over to one of the stationary bikes, he rubbed his hair, face and neck free of most of the sweat. He tried desperately not to stare at Kurt's body but couldn't help admiring the slender man's very nice physique. The singer seemed so frail much of the time, even though he had a tendency to wear really tight clothing but here, in that purple tank top and those sinful shorts, Dave could see most everything he had to offer.

He moved past the bobbing singer and selected a bike two away from Kurt. He didn't want to appear to be stalking the guy! He settled on the bike, hung his towel over the handlebar and started pedaling, choosing a speed that he hoped would distract him from the panting man still using the elliptical beside him.

Kurt hid his smirk behind a quick sip from his bottle, not even slowing his speed to do so. He was really determined to work off the calories that Mama Afflick had forced on him so happily. If he could do so while messing with Karofsky's mind, well and good. Now, he would up the game a bit.

Pretending to become slightly winded, Kurt added little sound effects to his plan. It wasn't his fault he had a particularly sensual voice, able to evoke all manner of naughty thoughts in his listeners. He could, however, take advantage of it so he started to let out soft little huffs of air; nothing too overt and spaced out just a bit so Karofsky wouldn't suspect what he was doing. Gradually, though, he increased the sounds to slightly longer groans or grunts.

The only time he'd worked out in a public gym, he had been a little taken aback at how noisy it could be. Most of the patrons were big, buff guys who apparently had a penchant for grunting when they lifted weights and spotted each other. Even some of the women got into the act and the whole thing just became too much for Kurt who, after nearly an hour of the cacophony, left in a disgusted huff.

Now he could put what he'd learned to good use. Moaning a little and pressing one delicate hand to his back, he arched a bit, as if to work out a kink. He pretended to ignore the way Karofsky kept sneaking little looks at him but when he stretched his neck muscles out by arching a little more, he caught the gleam of honey-colored eyes staring openly at him. He arched an eyebrow at the larger man but turned back to continue his striding.

Suddenly, Kurt doubled over, grasping the console of the elliptical strider/cross trainer and accidentally turning it off. He gasped loudly and then whimpered, "Ow-ow-ow!"

Karofsky punched the stop button on his bike and leapt off, hurrying around the machines to come to Kurt's aid. When he came alongside him, Kurt stepped gingerly off of his machine and collapsed to the floor, grasping the calf of his right leg and kneading it, all the while still whimpering pathetically.

Dave dropped into a crouch, unable to stop from offering his help and told Kurt to try and relax. The singer complied and Dave grasped his ankle, gently pulling on the leg to straighten it out.

"No, no, oh please, ow!" Kurt tried to retract his leg but Dave held on to it with a firm clasp.

"Hang on, it's just a cramp, I can work it out; just relax," he tried to reassure Kurt, so busy kneading the calf muscle and rotating the ankle that he didn't realize just exactly where Kurt's foot was resting. The two men were engrossed in the procedure and Kurt relaxed a bit as Dave continued to manipulate the leg muscles.

Minutes later, Dave laid the foot down on the floor and looked up at Kurt, meaning to ask him how his leg felt. The words froze behind his teeth as he stared at Kurt's eyes, the breathtaking beauty of them temporarily robbing him of speech. This unprecedented proximity to the object of his desire and affection made his body respond in the only way it could; he got hard again and, in the gym clothes, it was obvious.

As they held their positions, he kneeling at Kurt's feet and Kurt reclining before him, he continued to gaze longingly at the young singer. Gradually he noted the dilating pupils and flushed cheeks, developments that meant only one thing in this moment; Kurt's body was reacting to his and it wasn't something he could hide.

Dave drew a deep shuddering breath, rose to his feet and held out his hand to help Kurt up. There was a fifty-fifty chance, of course, that Kurt would refuse continued assistance, but his heart hoped that Kurt would take the proffered hand.

Kurt stared up at him a moment more while the hectic color faded from his face and then grasped the large hand of his 'host'. Dave pulled, what he believed was gently for him but somehow he still managed to miscalculate. Inevitably, Kurt ended up stumbling towards him but before their chests could touch, he caught his balance. Dave released the breath he was holding as he let go of Kurt's hand, his fingers still tingling from where they had held the other man's.

Kurt cleared his voice softly then stared up into Karofsky's eyes. He made his voice a little lower than Karofsky had heard before and thanked him, a sultry undertone to the mundane words. "Really, I would probably have still been …" he licked his lower lip before finishing, "writhing on the floor if you hadn't… leant a hand."

He lowered his eyes before turning away and as he was still standing much too close to Karofsky, he allowed his shoulder and arm to brush the larger man's body as he turned. He heard and felt the quick intake of breath and glanced back at Karofsky from beneath demurely lowered lashes.

"I think a warm bath would help our sore muscles… don't you?" He raised one hand to flick a lock of damp hair from his forehead, knowing that the wide armholes of the tank top would reveal the side of his body and one pink nipple. Kurt sneaked a quick look at Karofsky's face and had to bite his lip at the man's tortured, horny expression.

Kurt headed towards the exit, making sure to put a little extra sway to his step, just knowing in his bones that Karofsky was staring at his ass outlined in the tight, sweaty bike shorts. Even as a high school student he had always known his butt was one of his best features and he often dressed to highlight it. When he'd dropped the baby fat and emerged as this tall, creamy-skinned, willowy diva, he knew he would always have to play to his strengths. His body and his whip-sharp mind were tools, yes, but sometimes they had some use as weapons.

He paused at the door, aware that Karofsky was probably waiting on an invitation to join him in the bath, but he turned and fluttered his fingers at the red-faced man while flicking a glance down at the prominent bulge in the front of his shorts.

"See you at lunch, mein herr; and take a cold shower."

His cold, cruel laugh was thankfully cut off as the heavy door closed behind him and Dave's shoulders slumped immediately. He bowed his head, his fists clenched and he vowed he would never again allow the little bitch to see how much he affected him.

Lunch was going to be an ordeal and between now and then, he was going to have shore up his defenses against one jewel-eyed brat with the angelic face and voice. He turned to the intercom button on the wall and pressed it. When the familiar laconic voice responded, he gave his instructions and then collected his towel.

If he was going to appear calm and collected at lunch, it seemed the cold shower was, indeed, the right call.

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TBC

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A/N: I think Kurt is having way too much fun baiting Karofsky. Please, review and let me know what you all think.