|Knife Going In
Author: Keitorin Asthore PM
Blaine put the past behind him, telling Kurt to have the courage he couldn't. But the worst happened anyway, and Kurt is left broken. Now Blaine has to pick up the pieces, but if he couldn't have the courage three years ago, how can he do it now? Klaine.Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - Kurt H. & Blaine A. - Chapters: 17 - Words: 90,966 - Reviews: 1,463 - Favs: 1,206 - Follows: 1,531 - Updated: 05-16-11 - Published: 12-09-10 - id: 6543328
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.
That night, Kurt Hummel came into his dreams again, and this time, he didn't stop him.
He hated those dreams, hated them with a passion, but he loved them, all the same. Usually he stopped them, forcing himself to wake up so he could stare up at the dark ceiling in the safety of his bedroom, fire burning in his veins and a cold sweat soaking his skin.
But now he gave in, surrendering himself to the dreams usually he denied himself.
His dream self pushed Kurt up against the side of his car, his big hands cupping the other boy's small chin, and he kissed him, his chapped lips warm and insistent against his. Kurt moaned against his mouth, and the sound was devastating. He deepened the kiss, opening his mouth wider, running the tip of his tongue lightly against Kurt's lips, tasting the faint hint of peppermint gum and cherry chapstick.
He had spent so long pretending that Kurt didn't exist, and that his desire was just…some kind of cosmic misunderstanding, but this was amazing, too amazing for words. He'd made out with girls before, plenty of girls, kissing them sloppily at post-game parties and fumbling with their bra straps in the back of his car, but this was different. This was what he wanted.
He kept his lips against Kurt's, kissing him deeply, but his hands began to slide down his neck. His skin felt so smooth, ridiculously smooth. He slid his hands under the collar of Kurt's navy blazer and tugged it away from his thin arms. Kurt pressed his hands against his shoulders; his slender fingers gripped him tightly.
He could feel the slight curves of Kurt's body under his thin white dress shirt- the way his ribcage jutted out, the soft firm warmth of his sides, his sharply protruding shoulder blades. Kurt was so different from the girls he had made out with in the past, with their softness and no muscle, and so different from his own stocky, muscular body.
He grabbed Kurt's slim hips and lifted him up a little, balancing him against his knee and bracing the small of Kurt's back against his car. Their lips were still caught together and he kissed him fiercely, still tasting peppermint and cherry with the faintly warning undercurrent of whiskey. He started grinding against Kurt, their pelvises connecting, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through his body. Was this how he was supposed to feel? None of the girls he'd made out with had ever made him feel like this.
Kurt made a sharp whining sound, and he trailed his hands over his thin body again. This time he moved a little lower, fumbling with the waistband of Kurt's gray pants. He tugged on the top button, digging at it until popped loose, then slid the zipper down.
He finally broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and he moved his mouth to the side of Kurt's neck, right below his ear. Kurt tilted his head away from him as he trailed kisses down his neck to his collarbone, biting lightly. His skin smelled good, warm and clean and soft, and he stifled a groan as he moved his hands back up to fumble with the impossibly small buttons on Kurt's shirt.
It took some time, but finally Kurt's crisply ironed white shirt hung open, exposing his slender chest. He grabbed Kurt by the hips again, pulling him back up so that he could press his body up against his. Kurt was murmuring something now, and at first he tried to listen, but then he brushed himself up against his pelvis again and he felt so intensely good that he couldn't focus on anything else.
He guided Kurt's hips against his, grunting slightly as he tried to keep him in the same pace. But Kurt kept saying something, and it was lost like a dull roar in his ears. All he knew was that he felt amazing, and didn't Kurt feel good too? Didn't he want to feel good?
He slid his hand down the front of Kurt's pants, gripping him carefully. All he wanted was to make Kurt feel just as good as he was making him feel. That was all he wanted. He wanted to make him happy, to see him smile and know that he had caused it. He wanted to feel Kurt's slender arms wrap around his neck, his body pressed tightly against his, and hear him moan in ecstatic relief when he climaxed.
But Kurt was still saying something, loud and insistent, and he didn't know why. Kurt kept pushing against him, not out of desperate need, but…because of something else.
He groaned into Kurt's neck, keeping his grip firm. His dreams had never been this vivid before. He had never imagined how soft his skin was, or how good he smelled, or how it made his eyes roll back in his head to feel his body pressed against his.
But Kurt didn't seem happy, no matter what he tried, and he was trying plenty. And that was all he wanted, just to know that he was making him feel good.
He bent to kiss him again, pulling his hand out of his pants and hugging the shaking boy closer to his chest. Kurt turned his head away and he kissed his cold cheek instead.
He didn't understand. He didn't know why Kurt wasn't happy.
He grabbed Kurt's hips and picked him up so that he was forced to wrap his legs around him or risk falling. Kurt still had his hands against his shoulders, and he was still gripping tightly.
No. Not gripping. Pushing.
He frowned. This wasn't how his dreams usually went.
Kurt was still saying something, and he forced himself to listen, pushing through his foggy, sleepy haze. And then he realized it.
Kurt was screaming.
He closed his eyes tightly and then opened them, waiting for the safety of his bedroom to swim into focus so he could roll over onto his side, curl up under his blankets, and stare at the clock until he fell asleep again with this nightmare far away.
He should be so lucky.
He opened his eyes to see Kurt still pushed against the car, his face turned away, his swollen, reddened lips gaping open. His blue-green eyes were wide open but pale, almost more like glass or a sheet of ice. Little red marks trailed down his neck and chest.
Cold late November wind brushed past them, making him shiver despite the warmth of his jacket, and he saw Kurt tremble. The moon was lost in late-night clouds, but the harsh white light of the parking lot lamps blared down on them.
Bile rose in his throat, choking him. "Stop it," he mumbled, giving Kurt a firm shake. Kurt was still screaming, shouting the same phrase over and over again, and it made his heart shudder in his chest.
"Stop it," he said again, his voice gaining strength. "Stop it, stop screaming."
But Kurt didn't stop, and he couldn't take it. Without thinking he balled his hand into a fist and rammed Kurt in the stomach. "I said stop it," he said roughly.
But he didn't listen, and he couldn't take it. He saw red and he struck out blindly, knocking Kurt against the side of the car, slamming him back again and again. And still Kurt kept screaming.
Finally he drew back and Kurt slid bonelessly to the pavement, still choking out the same awful phrase. "I told you to stop," he said, his voice raw, and he grabbed Kurt by the throat, digging his thumbs in tightly.
It took a while for him to fall in to silence, and when he finally did he drew back quickly, staring down at Kurt's lifeless body, his face stark white and expressionless. Terrified, he threw open the driver's side door of his car and flung himself inside, ramming the key into the ignition and taking off without bothering to buckle his seatbelt. The empty beer bottles on the floor of his car clinked and rattled as he drove away from Dalton Academy and rushed towards Lima, time ticking away innocently on the dashboard clock as night fell harder.
The radio played quietly, bouncing through stations, but all he could do was stare helpless at the empty interstate while Kurt's desperate, broken screams echoed in his ears.
I was safe here! he could still hear him scream. I was safe here!
This is the prologue to a long multichapter fic. I hope you keep reading.