He had never intended to see Kurt Hummel naked. Had never even thought about it, honestly. But spending half a football season as teammates made seeing another guy in the showers pretty much inevitable.

Kurt had been bothered by the reaction he'd received the first time he entered the locker rooms with the rest of the football players, but he had held his head high and pretended that it did not affect him at all. After all, it was the same reaction he had always gotten, ever since the first day he had been forced to shower with other boys after a rigorous P.E. class. They had shoved him around, called him names, and ordered him to either wait outside or go shower with "the other girls". Guys in locker rooms always accused Kurt of raping them with his eyes, of just waiting for a chance to get his hands (and other assorted body parts) on them for real.

This was totally absurd, given that Kurt was about half their size and completely incapable of overpowering anyone who was not willing to play along. Assuming he even wanted to; and Finn knew as surely as he knew that grass was green that Kurt did not want to, but everyone assumed that "gay" was just another word for "pervert" when the truth was that Kurt was far too proud and self-respecting to go after any guy who treated him like crap.

Except, for some reason, Finn.

He never had quite figured out why he was the exception to the rule, considering all the mean things he had done to Kurt, or allowed to be done to him without protest. And yet, he knew that he was. The longing gazes and dreamy smiles that the smaller boy trained on Finn when he thought himself unobserved were a little uncomfortable to bear, but ultimately harmless. It was even kind of flattering, in a weird sort of way.

Kurt braved the post-football game locker room and all its inherent homophobia with the same careless disdain that made his showy wardrobe and superior attitude both admirable and irritating during the rest of the school day. He did not force his presence on anyone but neither did he shrink away from entering the room when other guys were getting dressed in there. He simply ignored everyone, keeping his eyes politely averted from any shows of man-flesh. Kurt would disappear into a bathroom stall and change from his football uniform into a fluffy white bathrobe that had earned a few snide remarks all on its own, but then he would sit on a bench facing the locker at the very end of the row farthest from the showers, sending text-messages to a friend or pretending total absorption in some magazine, waiting until every other jock had left the room and the surrounding silence told him it was safe to look up.

Finn had taken up the habit of staying late, pretending to be digging mud out of his cleats or taking his time about gathering up his possessions, waiting until Kurt disappeared into the shower room. Then he would go stand outside the door, discouraging any teammates who might decide that it would be funny to sneak back in and attack Kurt with towel-snaps, or steal all of his clothes while he was showering.

Eventually the other guys caught on that there was no fun to be had here and they gave up their attempts at harrassing Kurt after practice. After all, they had better things to do. And Kurt began to relax more, never realizing that the lack of bullying came from having his very own guardian angel. Finn would leave as soon as he heard the shower shutting off, allowing Kurt to believe that he had been accepted as "one of the guys" on his own merit for once.

That was how it eventually happened. Believing himself alone and safe, Kurt had started singing in the shower one evening after a late practice, his clear voice amplified by the tiles and made beautiful by inhibition. He did not just sing when he was all alone; Kurt belted. Soaring, intricate melodies and joyful runs that made Finn smile to hear them, knowing that he was hearing the influence of Mercedes Jones.

The other boy was amazing when he sang this way! Finn wished Mr. Schuester and the other members of Glee could hear him, singing with no self-consciousness and no holds barred; singing the way that he had obviously been born to do, but was too shy to do in public. Hearing him this way, Finn knew that there was no way in hell that Kurt deserved to be relegated to eternal back up singer and he was moved to tell him so.

Without thinking, he stepped into the shower room.

And there he was. Standing under a showerhead, eyes closed, scrubbing shampoo into his thick dark hair as he sang a passionate concert to a completely empty room. Steam curled around Kurt's wet body, the heat from the water making his usually pale skin rosy and slick. Suds slid teasingly down the expanse of naked skin as Kurt rinsed his hair. Caught up his performance, Kurt sang into the neck of a bottle as if it were a microphone, adding a cute little dance to the mix as he rubbed conditioner into his hair.

The quarterback forgot all about musical appreciation when, bopping his head in time to the music, Kurt poured liquid soap into a loofah and scrubbed it against his skin, working up a thick coat of lather. He could not stop staring at Kurt's ass, at the way those small pale globes clenched and flexed when he bent over to scrub his feet and legs.

Finn felt himself flush with shame over his blatant ogling but he could not stop; somehow mesmerized.

Blissfully unaware of his audience, Kurt continued to scrub his skin clear of sweat as he straightened, stretching and twisting to glide the loofah over his back and shoulders before continuing on to his arms, pits, chest and stomach, singing all the while.

The music eventually faded out when Kurt put the loofah aside and moved underneath the spray to rinse his hair again. Finn ducked back out of sight when Kurt opened his eyes and squeezed a little of the liquid soap into his palm, glancing around the empty (or so he thought) room with a guilty expression that piqued Finn's curiosity.

He understood the reason for that guilt a moment later.

Leaning his back against the wall and closing his eyes again, Kurt lowered his soapy hands down to his groin and massaged the creamy liquid into his neatly trimmed pubic hair. He sighed in obvious pleasure as gentle fingers lathered the wiry strands, then slid down to cup his balls, massaging the globes tenderly and bringing a rapid hardening to his cock. Kurt's right hand circled the growing length, squeezing and twisting with light, experienced touches.

Finn gulped, feeling his own penis growing stiff in response. He was not sure how to feel about that; about getting hard over another guy, but the reaction was undeniable.

Kurt's left hand began to alternate between his balls and his chest, bringing his pert little pink nipples to eager attention with little more than a stroke. His soft gasps of enjoyment told Finn just how sensitive those nipples must be and brought another unexpected surge to Finn's groin as he imagined what it might feel like to lick those tiny peaks and tease more of those soft little mews of pleasure from Kurt's lips.

Almost as if he could hear those naughty thoughts, Kurt moaned, his soapy hand sliding over the length of what Finn suddenly realized was an extremely impressive cock for such a petite boy. Now fully extended, it was probably seven or eight inches long and very sturdy. It was not ugly, though, not in the slightest. Like the rest of Kurt's body, his cock was well proportioned, pink-skinned and beautifully shaped with a rosy, diamond-like crown.

Finn licked his lips, not even caring that the thought was totally gay as he wondered what it would feel like and how Kurt would react if he were to give that pretty crown a taste. He chewed his lip, holding his breath as he watched Kurt's fingertips tease the flared head, circling and squeezing gently.

Kurt's hand clasped tighter around the engorged cock, forming a tight entrance to thrust into as his hips began to buck. "Oh, yeah," he murmured, his light voice unusually husky and low.

The sound sent a surge of desire bolting through Finn so powerfully that he gasped, eyelids fluttering as he crept forward a couple of steps to keep Kurt's cock in sight as the other boy turned to face the wall. He did not want to miss a moment of the show.

Fortunately, Kurt was so caught up in his own pleasure that he remained unaware of his hidden observer. The narrow hips were rolling now, small buttocks clenching with effort, one hand pressed against the wall as the other one squeezed tightly around Kurt's rigid length. He was panting with growing need, desperately thrusting into his closed fist.

Finn nearly moaned again at the sight. Somehow, if he had ever thought about it at all, he would have assumed that Kurt was the kind of guy who could only get off on being penetrated by another guy's dick. But apparently, in Kurt's fantasies, he preferred to give it. For there was no doubt whatsoever that in his mind's eye, he was fucking somebody senseless.

At last, a strangled shout escaped Kurt's lips. "Ooh, Finn," he groaned roughly, milking ropes of thick cum all over his stomach and the wall. The sight and sound were Finn's undoing. He creamed his shorts without ever having touched his own cock.

A deep sigh escaped Kurt's lips as the tension slowly seeped from his body. "Oh, Finn," he said again, but the tone was filled with sadness this time.

Finn backed off, slinking silently out of the shower area as he was suddenly struck by how inappropriate his act of voyeurism had been. Never mind that Kurt had been fantasizing about fucking him. (And, wow, wasn't that a shock!) The fact was, the other boy had believed himself entirely alone and that was the only reason he had felt safe enough to give in to his desire. Finn knew that if Kurt ever found out that he had had a witness, he would be horrified; mortified beyond measure.

The thing was, given his lifelong assumption of being straight, which was a little hard to justify now that he had dampness spreading across the front of his pants caused by watching another boy jack off; Finn suddenly wondered why he did not feel mortified.

For he did not . . . at all. On the contrary. He could hardly wait until next time.