AN: Hey, all. Long time no see.

I dedicate part one to theunknownsoul of LiveJournal. She posts screencaps of Glee episodes (you all know her as the genius behind SUDDENLY…KAROFSKY!), along with comments to go along with them. Insanely hilarious. Been stalking her since NBK. Go check out her page.

So…enjoy the story and all that.

Chapter 1: Gay Porn Isn't So Bad

"No! Nonononononono! Get off me before I call the cops!"

"You can't call the cops, Hummel; you're in my house."

"Plus, you don't seem to have much use of your hands."

And it was true. Dave had Kurt's arms pined behind him (with one hand, might I add) and Blaine was holding rope, looking all too joyful.

"This is assault and I demand you release me!" Kurt screeched. Dave threw him unceremoniously into the computer chair, and before Kurt could so much as react, he was tied tightly to it by Blaine's expert roping skills.

Kurt looked from one boy to the other, heart fluttering fearfully. "You're not going to rape me, are you?"

It was a valid assumption. All they'd said before kidnapping him was that they had 'something special' in store for him.

Blaine and Dave laughed.

"No," Blaine assured immediately.

"Maybe a little…" Dave ran a finger across Kurt's jaw. He scowled.

"More like raping your brain," Blaine concluded.

Dave nodded. "Yeah, that's a good way to put it."

Were they going to screw him in the ear?

"Get it up on the flatscreen," Blaine demanded, eyes locked on Kurt's.

Dave shuffled around for a moment. "Got it." He pressed a button to play whatever they were showing him.

Kurt averted his eyes as soon as he saw two sweaty, muscled men pop up on the screen.


"Scream all you want, Fancy; no one's going to hear you." It was the weekend and Dave had the house to himself. He grinned at an amused Blaine and turned up the volume. The room was full of the sounds of panting and moaning and Kurt attempting to escape his bonds.

"Kurt, how else are you going to learn this stuff?" Blaine asked over the loud sounds of sex emitting from the television. "I know you barely touched those pamphlets your dad was kind enough to give you."

"This isn't happening," Kurt said to himself, repeating it over and over. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't—"

"It's happening." Dave stood up and forcibly turned the smaller boy's head in the direction of the television. His eyes were clamped shut.

Blaine grinned and slipped behind Kurt's chair, in the space between Dave's arms. He pried open Kurt's eyes, forcing him to watch.

And once he was watching, he could not tear his eyes away.

"What are they doing?" he asked quietly, intrigued. Blaine slowly removed his hands. Kurt's eyes remained rapt on the screen.

"They're making love," Dave replied, his usually rough voice soft and warm. He, too, could not tear his gaze away.

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say," Blaine said, turning around and staring up at Dave. He stood on his toes and lightly kissed Dave on the cheek. The jock made no reaction, by now used to Blaine's random affectionate personality. Blaine turned around again and slowly removed Dave's hands from Kurt's face, confident he would not turn away.

"Sit down, Dave," he commanded gently, pulling Dave to the right side of Kurt and settling him down on the floor. He then crawled to Kurt's left side and sat as well, watching the gay porn that Blaine had used his parents' credit card to buy (along with about ten others). He grinned. He'd had to intercept mail for six weeks before it arrived.

Blaine and Dave had decided to ease Kurt into it slowly. This movie was fairly soft-core in comparison to some of the others Blaine had found. The cheesy storyline romanticized it, and the moans of the men were not-quite-porn star. They sounded natural and, dare he think it, beautiful.

Five minutes of silent viewing of gay porn passed before any of the boys made a sound.

"Do their mothers allow them to do this?" Kurt asked quietly, subdued.

"They're adults," Dave answered gruffly.

"Yes, Dave, they are adults," Blaine countered, resting a hand on Kurt's knee. "And they are performing a beautiful act of nature. Sex is not a blasphemy, Kurt."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Only gay sex."

"Not even gay sex." Blaine stood up to face his best friends, blocking half the television from each of their views.

"Out of the way, Peacock!"

But Blaine was already gone, off on one of his lectures about the things he believed and wanted everyone else to believe.

"I apologize in advance, Kurt; I know you're not religious. And Dave; I know you've lost your faith. But I have not. I believe in God. I believe in a perfect God who makes no mistakes. He made us exactly who we are on purpose. Being gay is not a mistake, or a disease. It is a way of life that He has given us, to embrace. Sex between two men—or even two women—is as natural as that between a man and a woman. I want you both to understand that, to understand that this" —he gestured to the men on the television— "is not wrong. Two consenting adults have chosen to be together, and they—ow."

Dave had thrown a shoe at Blaine's head. "Sit down and shut up!" He cocked his head to Kurt, who had been silent the whole time, avidly watching the movie (and ignoring Blaine). He was watching curiously, eyes wide, head tilted slightly as if trying to get a better angle.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, sitting down. "I'll…do that."

They watched for forty-five minutes, during which a lot of drama was created, a lot of men joined the scene, a lot of sex was had, and a lot of intrigue oozed from the three friends.

Somewhere along the line Blaine had taken pity on Kurt and untied his binds; Kurt had crawled to the floor and rested his head on Dave's shoulder, pulling Blaine to settle his head on Kurt's lap.

The credits rolled. Kurt was first to speak.

"That wasn't so bad. It was actually quite…enjoyable."

"Then you'll love the next one," Blaine said, sitting up, exchanging a glance with Dave. "It's three times dirtier."

Kurt ran from the house, screaming.