Karma's a bitch, and so is Kurt, which Hunter is about to find out.
Follows about a week after "A Dalton Boy Heartbroken". There are some non-sexual non-con elements in here, but I think we can all agree that Hunter deserves what he gets. Let me know what you think ;)
To: Sebastian
Hey. Do you have time to talk?
Sebastian sees the text and smiles. Good old Jeff. Sebastian misses him. Even though they weren't in the habit of talking every day, Sebastian still considered them friends. It was nice having someone around Dalton who didn't want or expect anything from him. He'd see Jeff at Warbler practice, they'd shoot the shit, and that was pretty much it. People always give so much weight to the so-called deeply emotional relationships in their lives, but the casual ones can be just as important.
Having Jeff around to talk nonsense with when lacrosse practice sucked or finals got rough helped keep Sebastian sane.
Sebastian is in the middle of doing his homework at the kitchen table, and, per Kurt's rules, he's not allowed to take any calls unless they're from his parents. They're the exception. But Kurt does realize other people may need to get a hold of Sebastian from time to time, especially since he's part of two group projects even though he's not physically on campus. So texts are alright, as long as they don't take up too much of his time.
Kurt and Sebastian have both been on the edge of their seats waiting for news about "The Dalton Purge" (as they call it). Hence Kurt's leniency.
Sebastian hopes that Jeff has some good news for him.
To: Jeff
Hey man! Long time, no hear from!
To: Sebastian
Not my fault. You're the one doing a week of IEP over at your man's house :P
Sebastian chuckles, but his eyes stick on the words your man. Reading them should make him hard (they usually do), but they make his heart flutter instead.
To: Jeff
Yeah, well, after I filed that police report, the cops decided it would be best for everyone involved if I hung back while they investigated. Doesn't matter. Kurt wouldn't let me come back if I wanted to. And I don't want to. Not right now. I don't really feel like hanging around Dalton. At this point, if I could do IEP up until graduation, I probably would.
To: Sebastian
I heard that. I don't blame you. How's it going otherwise?
To: Jeff
Fine. Getting a lot more studying done here than I do on campus.
To: Sebastian
Really?
To: Jeff
Yeah, really. Why?
To: Sebastian
Would I be a dick if I said I was surprised?
To: Jeff
Not at all xD You guys don't know what my life is like over here. I think it would open your eyes if you knew … but I'm not telling :P
To: Sebastian
It's all good. It's nice to have something for you and you alone. I dig that.
Sebastian smirks. If that were the case, and those assholes at Dalton would let him keep his fucking private life private, then he wouldn't be in this situation.
To: Jeff
So, what's up? It sounded like you had something important you wanted to discuss.
To: Sebastian
It's about the guys. The ones who jumped you that night?
To: Jeff
Yeah …?
To: Sebastian
They gathered up most of the boys. Half of varsity lacrosse has been suspended. I don't know what they're going to do about the team. There's talk about moving some of the better JV players up, but some of them were in on it, too.
To: Jeff
Yeah. I figured that.
Sebastian remembers the conversation the two boys keeping watch over him had, how Hunter had promised them spots on the team. Seems like that didn't turn out very well for them after all.
To: Sebastian
They may decide to flush the rest of the Varsity season. Sorry about that, man.
To: Jeff
That's savage. But if they do, no big loss. I was getting kind of tired of all the dumb team politics anyway. And if they can the team, at least Hunter will get what's coming to him.
There's a long pause after Sebastian sends that message. He goes back to his math homework while he waits, figuring that Jeff is sending him a long ass text in reply, detailing how Hunter got expelled, how his father showed up, ranting and raving about suing the school but it did no good, and now he's not only out of Dalton for good, but on his way to juvie for orchestrating an assault.
Or there's something Jeff isn't looking forward to telling him.
Sebastian is hoping for the former, but he's betting on the latter.
To: Sebastian
About that …
To: Sebastian
Nobody'll turn on him, man.
Sebastian reads that and sighs. He'd suspected that. This can't be just a hate against him thing. He doesn't doubt that a few guys might resent him, but that many of them? No. There has to be something more to it. Hunter is a master manipulator. He always has an angle. Sebastian can't even fathom what Hunter could be holding over everybody that they would choose expulsion over going turncoat. But he had hoped that someone would step up and do the right thing, regardless of the consequences from Hunter.
He guesses that's a difficult thing to expect from teenagers, seeing as expulsion, or even suspension, from a school like Dalton might negatively impact the rest of their lives. Not everyone can be as Who gives a fuck? about the future as Sebastian. Sebastian's parents are cool about his life choices for the most part, and they've assured him that his trust fund is his, even if he follows a path they don't agree with.
Not every kid Sebastian knows has that security.
To: Jeff
What about you? What did you tell them?
To: Sebastian
I told them everything. I swear. And even though the assistant dean says he believes me, it's me against everyone else. And everyone is giving Hunter an alibi. Even with my school record being clean and all, they say they can't take just my word for it. If you ask me, his father had something to do with that. I'm afraid nothing's going to happen to Hunter. I'm so sorry.
To: Jeff
It's not your fault. I appreciate everything you've done for me. I owe you one.
To: Sebastian
Don't sweat it. I wish I could have done more. Take care of yourself.
To: Jeff
You, too.
"What's going on, baby? Googling the answers to your homework is cheating, you know." Kurt slides up behind his sub and lays a hand on his shoulder. His hold isn't commanding. It's more familiar. Kurt's been doing that a lot lately, touching Sebastian whenever he comes within range of him and for the hell of it – rubbing his back, massaging his shoulders, running a hand through his hair, without demanding anything in return.
"I'm sorry, Master," Sebastian says with a disappointed swallow. "I'm just … talking to Jeff."
"What about?" Kurt asks, his voice rising with excitement. "You look like you're about to set your phone on fire."
Sebastian doesn't answer. He hands Kurt the phone and shows him the conversation he's been having. Kurt scrolls back and forth, re-reading certain passages twice. His brow pinches. His jaw snaps shut. His eyes burn.
"Fuck!" he snaps, smacking the phone down on Sebastian's text book. "Fuck it all!" He looks at his sub, at Sebastian's downcast eyes, at the shame on his face, the same expression he wore on the drive home from Dalton, as if any of this were his fault. Kurt hates seeing Sebastian this way. There shouldn't be a single power in the world that can beat down his warrior prince … besides him. "Don't you worry, baby," Kurt says, running a hand through Sebastian's hair, lightly scraping his scalp with his nails. "He won't get away with this. He'll get his, one way or another, if I have anything to say about it."
Sebastian has been trying to get his assignment done since his conversation with Jeff, but he's having no luck. Not because the kitchen, where he has his books laid out on that deceptively average table of Kurt's, isn't quiet enough or well-lit enough for him to study. Kurt made certain to set the room up the way Sebastian needed it. Even said conversation hasn't put him off studying per se. It's the fact that Kurt is getting ready to go out that has Sebastian distracted. He hasn't outright said that he's leaving, but ever since he read those messages, he's been busy preparing. He made half a dozen phone calls, and when that was done, he started opening drawers in his dresser and rummaging through his closet, the sound of hangers being pulled out and tossed to the bed audible from the kitchen.
And Sebastian isn't going with him.
By the time Kurt comes out of his room, he's dressed in head to toe leather – studded dog collar, spiked jacket, driving gloves, motorcycle boots. Even his pants are made of leather – soft and skin tight. He struts into the kitchen, dressed to kill, and sexy enough to devour.
He shoves his phone in his pocket, pats another one for his keys, then takes a seat at the table beside his sub.
"Wh-where are you going, Master?" Sebastian asks, jumping in before he should. Kurt smiles instead of scolding him. He doesn't want to leave Sebastian alone any more than Sebastian wants to be alone. But if things go smoothly, he should only be gone for a couple of hours, tops.
"Don't worry, preppy," he says, pressing a kiss to his sub's forehead. "I won't be long. And I called a friend to stop by and keep an eye on you."
"Elliott?" Sebastian asks. Kurt snickers at the grimace his sub can't hide, even now when the two of them are beginning to understand one another. Still, being left in Elliott's care for a few hours probably isn't an arrangement that Sebastian is looking forward to.
"Nope. Elliott's coming with me. I called Marley. She's bringing her boy Jake over. You met them at the Christmas party. She took a real liking to you. I know she'll take good care of you while I'm gone. And don't worry. She's not going to ask anything of you. She's just going to make sure you get your homework done."
Sebastian nods. "Are … are you …?"
"I'm not going to the club without you, sweetheart," Kurt says. "I wouldn't do that. You're mine, remember? My one and only?" Kurt puts a hand on Sebastian's shoulder, over his brand, and squeezes gently. "Now, you hang tight and do your Calculus homework like a good little boy, and if it's all done by the time I get home, I'll give you something special." Kurt smiles at the way Sebastian's eyebrow quirks. This is a new scene for them, bordering on the caregiver/little (or, in Sebastian's case, middle) dynamic that Kurt loathes so much, and Kurt can tell Sebastian's excited to see what his Master has in store. Kurt would do anything to stay home and play with him, but there's something he has to do first or he won't be able to sleep at night. He leans forward and kisses Sebastian on the lips sweetly, to keep him relaxed until he gets home. But Sebastian is far from relaxed. He has a feeling he knows what Kurt is planning on doing, and Sebastian doesn't want to question his choices. He also doesn't want to see Kurt get hurt … or arrested.
But he has to have faith. He lost faith in Kurt once. Sebastian swore to himself he wouldn't do that again.
"Just, please … don't be too long, Master?"
Sebastian feels Kurt smile against his mouth. "I won't be, baby. I promise. Daddy's gonna go take care of some business."
Hunter stares up at his dorm room ceiling while he lies in bed, listening to his meditation playlist and trying to get to sleep. He thought he'd sleep better. His plan didn't go off the way he'd anticipated, but he can't be too mad at the results. Sure the lacrosse team is pretty much trashed, as are The Warblers, and a few other clubs on campus are going to get through the end of the year with less than stellar membership, but that barely matters to Hunter.
He came out of this spotless.
Plus, Sebastian is off campus for the week. It's nice to have a vacation from the self-righteous bastard. Even if he is spending the week fucking that freak of his, he'll forever know that he's not as bulletproof as he thinks he is.
Unlike Hunter. Hunter got off with a warning because he truly is the untouchable.
His eyelids drift shut and he smiles.
The untouchable, he repeats to himself. That makes him sound like a superhero. Or a super villain. Even better. They get better costumes and gadgets anyway. And villains always end up with more respect at the end. He should consider printing that on business cards. He'll keep it low and pro. His name, his email, his cell phone number, and in quotations at the bottom of the card – The Untouchable.
Hunter chuckles.
The Untouchable
It fits him to a T.
The song he's currently listening to, Meditations on a Drop of Summer Rain, segues into the next - a new age version of Pachelbel's Canon in D - when a hand covered in leather drops over his mouth and clamps down tight. Hunter's eyes shoot open, but instead of the white ceiling above his head, he's staring into two sets of sinister blue eyes, one icier than the other. But the eyes that aren't icy boil like liquid steel, brimming with hatred. Regardless of their differences, both sets of eyes glare down at him murderously, and Hunter knows exactly who they belong to.
"Hello, friend," Kurt says, squeezing tighter around Hunter's mouth. Elliott climbs over Hunter's body, pinning him to the bed. "We wanted to have a little talk with you." Kurt lets go, his hand hovering close in case the boy decides to scream.
Hunter sucks in the air that left his body at the shock of these two men invading his room. "I'm not your friend!"
"You're right," Kurt says, "but you see, the things I want to call you might open a door to repressed anger that's going to cause me to rip your genitals off. So why don't we stick with friend for now?"
Hunter huffs. "And why don't you …?"
Kurt slaps his hand back over Hunter's mouth and rolls his eyes.
"Well, that was a mistake."
"Clearly," Elliott agrees.
"Can you shut him up for me? I'm gonna need my hand back."
"Gladly." Elliott reaches into his jacket pocket and holds up a pair of white-ish briefs. Both Kurt and Hunter look at Elliott with curious - and disgusted - faces.
"I thought you brought a ball gag with you."
"I did. But I don't want to get douche-canoe's saliva on it, so I decided to improvise."
"Where did you get those?"
Elliott shrugs. "Picked them up at the club a few days ago. They've been in my pocket ever since."
"Gross!" Kurt laughs.
"Let's hope they're clean, huh?"
"Doubt it. Open wide, Hunty." Kurt takes his hand away from Hunter's mouth, but Hunter locks his lips together between his teeth, shaking his head from side to side. Kurt grabs Hunter's nose and holds it closed.
Then they wait.
Elliott looks at Kurt.
Kurt looks at Hunter.
Hunter looks at both of them, cheeks turning red but determined to keep his mouth shut. Kurt gives Elliott a nod and Elliott drops his weight onto Hunter's stomach. Hunter's mouth flies open as the air is forced from his body, and Elliott shoves the underwear in. Kurt finishes Hunter off with his Dalton necktie, which he grabbed from Hunter's desk, tying it over his mouth like a gag.
"How does that feel, huh?" Kurt asks, tying the knot at the back of Hunter's head tighter than necessary. "Not too nice, does it? Now you know how my baby felt when you guys did that to him."
Hunter stops struggling. He looks at Kurt, his attention pulled when Kurt calls Sebastian his baby, and has the audacity to laugh. Elliott jumps on Hunter's stomach one more time to shut him up.
"Keep it up," Elliott hisses. "I can do that all night."
Hunter, still defiant, quiets down, not looking forward to spending tomorrow nursing cramps that would make passing gall stones feel like a day in the park.
"Alrighty then. Let's strip this pig, tie his ass up, and get down to work. Oops. I forgot one thing." Kurt yanks the pillow out from underneath Hunter's head, pulling fast so that Hunter's head falls to the mattress. He shakes the pillow free of its case and shoves the case over Hunter's head. Then he ties it at the neck, cutting short Hunter's air supply. Hunter gasps for breath, and Kurt grins. He doesn't want Hunter to pass out. That would defeat the purpose of this exercise.
But that's not to say Kurt wouldn't find it extremely satisfying.
"There we go," Kurt growls, slapping the boy's cheek. "Perfect."
Flash.
"Yes …"
Flash-flash.
"Excellent!"
Flash.
"Face more forward. Now, give me more pout."
Flash-flash-flash.
"Come on, dude! I want to see more assholery. I know you've got it in you! Try thinking Do you know who my father is? There it is! Perfect!"
Flash.
Hunter squints against the lights dancing in front of his eyes – bright and white and firing non-stop. Considering what they're doing, Kurt and his friend have chosen a spot that's rather exposed and extremely well lit. And although Hunter is determined to maintain his cool, knowing that in this situation, in the end, he has the advantage, he can't help but be a might bit worried that Kurt doesn't seem at all concerned about getting caught.
"Do you know what this needs, Elliott?" Kurt asks, framing his shot and taking another picture.
"What?" Elliott asks, repositioning Hunter's chair - which they'd swiped from his room, and Kurt carried while Elliott slung Hunter's bound body over his shoulder - when Kurt motions for him to turn it more toward the stadium lights.
"A starburst filter."
"Hmm. I agree. To add a hint of color to his pasty skin."
"That's what I was thinking." Kurt snaps off another three shots. "But, you know, if I did that, we might not see his face …" Kurt turns back to their prisoner, all illusion of humor gone "… and we absolutely want his face in these pictures."
"What do you freaks think you're doing?" Hunter screams, pulling at the rope tying him to the chair. It can't be regular rope. It has some kind of razor quality to it. When he struggles, it cuts into his skin, and when he shifts left and right, it stings like no one's business.
"Oh, it's not what we're doing …" Kurt raises a foot and plants it between Hunter's legs, pressing down on his flaccid cock to keep him quiet. Hunter seems to have a horrible case of unnecessarius rambling mouth-icus, and that needs to stop. Of course, crushing his dick like a pancake could be fun, too. Kurt considers it while he lights a clove, acting more nonchalant than he feels, the blood beneath his calm exterior bubbling to do some real damage to this sonofabitch. He sucks in a breath and shakes out his match, blowing a plume of smoke into the air. "It's what you're going to do."
Hunter laughs, but shelves it when Kurt's foot presses down.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, trying to keep them talking. The longer they sit out there, the better chance he has of someone wandering by and helping him. It doesn't matter what Kurt means. Hunter has no intention of rolling over. He's no bitch, not like Sebastian, but he's not a big fan of pain, either. And after seeing that heinous burn thing on Sebastian's shoulder that this man gave him, Hunter is definitely more than a little wary about his current predicament.
Kurt replaces his foot with his knee, balancing ever so carefully, and Hunter gulps. Kurt gets up in Hunter's face and blows smoke in his eyes, smiling as they start to water.
"You prep school punks, I see you all the Goddamned fucking time. Fuck, I used to be one of you. Though, to be honest, I may have gone to the school and worn the uniform, but I was never really a Dalton boy. But you little fucks come down to my spot, you make fun of my customers, you think my life is such a joke." Kurt takes another drag and blows another mouthful of smoke into Hunter's eyes, which are becoming drier than the Sonoran Desert. "You think you're so untouchable because you have more money than a small country." Another drag, another mouthful of smoke in Hunter's eyes, which he's having trouble keeping open. "Now, I don't have any of that, but I still managed to get your punk ass naked and tied up, and I took some real pretty pictures that I can use however I please."
Hunter blinks his burning eyes, determined to look Kurt in the face when he cuts him down. "You're not going to do anything with those."
"And why not?" Kurt pouts. "Because you have friends? Rich friends? Influential friends?"
"You have no idea who you're dealing with!"
"You know" – Kurt smirks – "I might say the same thing to you."
"One phone call and I can have you locked up, and that circus you call a night club shut down." Hunter smiles smugly, even as a chill from the wet grass under his feet ripples up his back, and Kurt's knee starts to descend.
"Oh, really?" Kurt says in a mock trembling voice. He looks back at Elliott, who's doing his best to look appropriately scared.
"You really don't think I'm not going to tell everyone about this when you untie me?"
"FYI, we don't have to untie you," Elliott mentions as he flips through the pictures he took with his phone.
"Assault, kidnapping, blackmail …" Hunter continues with a condescending tut. "I got a slap on the wrist for hazing, but you guys, you're going to go to prison for a long time. Though I think that's a step up from what you guys do now. You'll probably make some really good friends in jail."
"Ooo!" Elliott chuckles. "Them there's fightin' words, Kurt. What do you have to say to that?"
"I say nah." Kurt leans in close to Hunter's ear, the urge to pull a Mike Tyson way too strong. "You wanna know a secret? I do have friends. The kinds of friends you don't meet going to schools like this. The kind you meet doing things you would never dream of doing, but they have smarts. They have power. You'd be surprised exactly who my friends are. Lawyers, senators, congressmen, people who can make certain complaints disappear. Now you - well, not you, but your rich daddy - might have many of the same friends, so you might think you have the upper hand. The only difference is that when it comes to me, those friends we share would rather not let other people know that they associate with me. So they pretty much do whatever I ask them to to make sure no one ever finds out."
Hunter looks at Kurt, at the viperish grin on his face as he sticks his cigarette back between his lips, the lit tip dangerously close to Hunter's eye.
Hunter seethes. He's trapped and he knows it. "What do you want?"
"You see" - Kurt slaps Hunter's shoulder, driving those ropes into his arm. When he talks, it's with the cigarette clenched between his teeth, the tip bouncing, spreading ash over Hunter's bare skin. "I knew you were a smart kid. I knew you'd see reason. What I want, douchebag, is simple …" A dozen things go through Kurt's head as he pauses - all the things he wants to do to teach this asshole a lesson. How Dalton Academy managed to breed another bastard worse than Blaine Anderson, Kurt will never know, but he really had to start reconsidering the amount of his annual donation "… keep your hands off my property. I find out that you laid a single other hand on his head, that you looked at him the wrong way, that you sneezed within a three mile radius of him and he caught your cold, and these pictures I took don't just go viral. They go universal. Motherfucking galactic. We freaks, as you love to call us, have a huge presence on social media. If I release these, everyone from Peter Nobody down at the 7-11 to astronauts on the ISS will see them, share them, caption them. They'll call you a sissy, a fag, a fuckboy, a cock pit, everything and anything under the sun, and that shit doesn't go away. You could drop a billion dollars on the best IT guys in the business to wipe it out, every inch of it, file injunctions against everyone who's ever reblogged it, but all you'll need is one person who had it downloaded to their computer to rehash it on Tumblr, and the cycle starts all over again. So unless you want your future business partners to Google your name and come up with a picture of you tied to a chair with your dick hanging out and the caption Daddy's little pussy, waiting to be fucked, I'd back the hell off – off of me, off of my club, but most of all, and this is a big most of all so pay the fuck attention, off of my Sebastian. Savvy?"
Hunter glares at Kurt, furious, but also with a healthy amount of apprehension. He has no doubt that Kurt means what he says, that he'll make Hunter a household name in the worst way possible if he doesn't comply. He may even have a way of making sure it doesn't get back to him when he does. For the moment, Hunter can't think of a way around that. One thing's for certain – Kurt Hummel isn't the man Hunter thought he was when he started this mission to get back at Sebastian.
That doesn't impress him. It's just frustrating as shit.
"I'm waiting for an answer, shit stain," Kurt hisses. "I don't like to be kept waiting."
"Yeah," Hunter says. He figures he should say whatever he has to to get himself out of this mess, and then sort out the particulars later on. "I'm savvy."
Kurt nods, but he doesn't let it end there, staring uncomfortably long into Hunter's eyes until the boy's superior expression drops and he genuinely looks scared. Because Kurt is right. He and his friend managed to break into Dalton, tie Hunter up, and drag him out into the middle of a field. They invaded a space he thought was safe and pulled him out of it … and no one stopped them. If what happened the night Kurt picked Sebastian up is anything to go by, Hunter knows that Kurt has a member of the police department on his side. Who else does he have? He claims to be a Dalton alum. That's a powerful group to be a part of – lawyers, senators, judges … is that who Kurt meant when he said he has friends? He has to be joking! There's no way …
… but what if he's not?
Is that a gamble that Hunter is willing to take?
Hunter swallows hard, pulling his lips tight when he realizes that Kurt may have the upper hand after all. And judging by the look on Kurt's face, he's not going to let this go. He's not going to drop his guard. He's going to remember Hunter and what Hunter did to Sebastian for a long time. And even if they settle up here, it may only be temporary.
Kurt will get him back when he least expects it.
"Great!" Kurt says, snapping back without warning. He stands up, freeing Hunter's dick, but Hunter doesn't breathe a sigh of relief. He can't, knowing that this goon might dog his footsteps for the rest of his life. "Well, I've gotta jet. I've got my beautiful boy to get back to. You have a nice rest of the evening now, ya hear?" Kurt kicks Hunter's chair as he leaves, but Elliott grabs the back and tips it, letting it fall backward into the grass.
"What the …? Hey!" Hunter yells. For an anxiety-fueled second, he feared the change in position would make the ropes tighten and tear him to shreds. They don't. But they are an effective deterrent in keeping him from attempting to squirm free.
"Oops," Elliott says.
"Wait a minute! Aren't you guys going to untie me?"
"Relax, douchewad," Kurt calls over his shoulder as he heads through the grass. "We'll send one of your little boyfriends to come get you."
"Yeah," Elliott chimes in, "eventually. If you don't freeze out here or some wild animal doesn't eat you, you should live to be a pus nugget another day."
"Hey!" Hunter screams. "Hey, assholes! Get back here and untie me! Hey! Hey! HEY!"
Hunter's impotent screams follow Kurt and Elliott as they tromp away up an incline towards the parking lot and Kurt's Navigator. They're parked in the farthest lot outside of the least used field on the Dalton campus, reserved for marching band practice and JROTC. Hunter can scream all he wants. The likelihood that anyone's going to hear him is next to nil.
"Thanks for doing that with me," Kurt says, bumping Elliott with his shoulder.
"No problem. It's nice to get away from the club every once in a while. And you know I'm always up for scaring children." Elliott takes a deep, cleansing breath, and lets it go, waxing nostalgic. "It feels like old times."
Kurt side-eyes his friend. "Ells, we were literally here scaring children last week."
"Yes, we were," Elliott says proudly. "And I have to say, I'm enjoying this trend."