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Passion is Never Perfect	By : vkdemondragon Category: G through L > Glee Views: 2963 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Passion is Never Perfect
- 1
Title: Passion is Never Perfect
Pairing: Kurt/Karofsky Rating: NC-17 (EXTREMELY DIRTY)
Warnings: Gay sex, Anal, dub-con, solo, angry rough sex
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: Written for the following prompt: community.livejournal.com/glee_kink_meme/6968.html
Kurt ‘s back at McKinley, but he’s still friends with Blaine. They go on their first date. At the end, Blaine kisses Kurt. It’s nice, and Kurt wants to enjoy it, but he can’t help but note how passionless it is compared to Karofsky’s. The next day at school, Kurt runs into Karofsky in the bathroom and angrily yells at him “You’ve ruined all other men for me!” Karofsky doesn’t know what’s going on so Kurt explains, and then Karofsky kisses Kurt again. Then they have rough angry sex in the bathroom stall.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its characters.
AN: Unbeta'ed. Sorry for the mistakes. This bit me hard and I had to write it
~~~~~~~~
Blaine was perfect. The date was perfect. The food was perfect. The talk was perfect. Everything was exactly as Kurt had always imagined his first date would be. The table was candle-lit and the conversation easy with gentle flirtation. They ate at a fancy French restaurant where he got to show off his self-taught French skills by ordering for them both.
Blaine had pulled out his chair, opened every door, and refused to let Kurt even think about paying part of the meal. Kurt had looked beautiful in his Alexander McQueen peacock blue tailcoat with black embroidery and edging paired with his dove gray vest and button up formal shirt. His pants were the same bright color as his coat with asymmetrical bands of black pulling the attention and appeal toward his trim waist and firm back-end. He looked like a dream and he knew it.
Blaine had looked dashing in his black overcoat and elegant styled double-breasted black vest. It was reminiscent of a golden era movie star, all pressed and elegant without too much flair. Perfect. How, with all the wonderful perfect feelings that were flying about between them, could he possibly know what was to happen?
Blaine had driven them back to his house and had parked across the street. He had turned to Kurt with a small smile that was nothing but charm and elegance. He cupped Kurt’s cheek and spoke softly.
“May I kiss you?”
Kurt nodded, a blush easing it’s way over his cheeks. He restrained the wish to grab those black lapels and take what he’d been awaiting all night. He restrained himself. Blaine was elegance, beautiful, perfect, and would want the same in his boyfriend. Shoving your mouth over another boy’s in lust was not elegant. It was desperate, needy, and passionate, but not elegant. Kurt wanted elegant.
His eyes fluttered closed as Blaine’s lips pressed to his. He could smell Blaine’s cologne, a heady aristocratic fragrance. His lips were warm and soft, perfect... and boring... As Blaine pulled back the only evidence on his face of the kiss was the slight wetness on his lower lip. Kurt pushed forward, taking Blaine’s lips for himself this time. There must be more! It couldn’t just be that. It couldn’t be so sterile. Where were the fireworks? Why didn’t his hands want to press into Blaine’s chest?!
It was Blaine who backed away this time, retreating away from the more desperate kiss. He placed a gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder to keep them parted. Those dark eyes smiled at Kurt, still perfect, not a single touch of color on his cheeks or strand of hair out of it’s neatly coiled and gelled place. Kurt frowned. This was not right, something was very not right… but it was perfect….
“Thank you for a lovely evening Kurt.” Blaine said, already around to open Kurt’s door. His hand slipped into Blaine’s offered hand. He was walked to the door and he given one more perfect press of lips before Kurt slipped inside.
“You‘re back a bit early. I was expecting you to try to push curfew another hour.” Burt Hummel’s voice came to him from the living room. Kurt glanced to his phone, it was exactly a half-hour before 10pm, the time his protective father had set for his to be home by to a perfectly polite Blaine hours before. “How was the date kiddo?”
“Perfect.” Why did that feel hollow?
Kurt’s feet took him down the stairs to him bedroom. His deep russet comforter does little to dispel the ice wrapping around him. Blaine had been perfect, how wasn’t he elated? He should be blasting Katy Perry and singing at the top of his lungs. He should be dancing with his pillows while belting out ‘I Feel Pretty’ from West Side Story. So why wasn’t he?
He sits up in his bed, carefully removing his outfit. His coat is delicately hung on it’s hanger and placed back into the volumous closet. He then undoes the vest buttons one by one, his eyes fluttering close. He conjured before him the image of Blaine in all of his pressed elegance. He brought those lips to him again. The soft lips pressing to him, delicate hand against his cheek slowly sliding into his hair. He would gasp softly, just like he had practiced when he was alone in his room. Blaine would push a little further. His lips a bit chapped would demand a response, both hands on his head so large they nearly covered his entire face. The spike of heat began in him.
Kurt slipped his pants off to free his straining manhood, those lips bringing his body to respond, those big hands calloused and rough, demanding he respond, pushing into his hair and holding him in place. Kurt would struggle at the dominance and his thick tongue would push into Kurt’s mouth, strong demanding, messy as spit slipped down from between their lips. Karofsky would push him back into the locker and shove his knee between Kurt’s thighs, making Kurt rock and moan against his leg. Kurt let out a strangled cry.
He collapsed, white sticky seed drying on his hand and stomach. He stared wide eyed at the perfectly white ceiling of his bedroom. Karofsky… He’d just had a perfect night, with his perfect new boyfriend with a perfect first date kiss and he had cum to imagining Karofsky assaulting him. His tears fell and he fell to sleep still tacky with the leavings of his shame.
The next day broke and Kurt was no longer willing to cry. He threw himself into the shower and scrubbed all evidence of THAT MAN from his body. He even indulged in a bit of soap assisted fingering imagining Blaine’s long elegant fingers instead of his own. He closed his eyes, the soft words of praise Blaine would use tripping over his spine. Beautiful, you’re so pretty, Kurt you’re so tight, I love you, I want you, You’re so sexy, Do you want me Fancy? Kurt groaned and began to press a second finger in and then a third. He’d never tried that many. The words from his imagination spurned him on. I need you Fancy, So fucking bad I can’t breath, I have to have you. Kurt’s mind conjured up that pained sound from the locker-room, the one that Karofsky had made after he lost all control. Suddenly Kurt gasped out as he splattered the wall. The pounding water rinsed it from his eyes. With an anguished scream he turned the water to ice cold and let it banish all thoughts of sex and lust and Karofsky from him.
Finally he exited the shower. He went about his normal movements, ignoring the slight pang from stretching himself further then ever before. He decided to let his ass have a rest from being show off and chose a fashionable black dress kilt that he paired with a pair of long stockings. His top was a inky black silk button-up with a vibrant green and blue plaid long scarf that he ties across his shoulders. The last accent were his black dress boots that made the most ominous thunk when he walked on tile. He felt like being imposing today.
The trip to McKinley High was only about 20 minutes away. His stay at Dalton had ended with the unfortunate circumstance that his family simply could not afford the tuition. With two teens to put through college it was either his tuition or sacrifice both he and Finn’s chances at getting out of Lima. He’d chosen the more responsible route. So he was at McKinley for his senior year. He’d adjusted back well enough. He had the glee club at his side and the imposing Sue Sylvester watching his back in the halls. Needless to say the slush attacks and shoves had ceased with the mandatory signing of the Coach Sylvester-will-shave-your-head-and-balls-should-one-hair-on-Kurt-Hummel’s-head-be-injured-in-the-Greater-Ohio-area Petition.
Kurt rarely even saw Dave Karofsky anymore. When the rare instance came that they were within eyesight it had become an unspoken agreement for them both to pretend like the other did not exist and go about their separate ways. This had worked for the last 8 months, so why was it when as he headed to Trigonometry did he follow after the Neanderthal who ducked into the perpetually abandoned 3rd floor bathroom. The massive shoulders ducked into one of the stalls.
He was alone with Dave Karofsky. Alone with the boy who had terrorized him. The boy who forced him to go to Dalton, who forced him to have nightmares, who stole his first kiss, who forced his first date to not be something he craved. He wanted perfect but no! Dave Karofsky forced him to have these sick desires. His delicate hands fisted and he kicked in the door that the huge jock had just shut.
“What the fu…. Hummel?” The deep growl of Karofsky didn’t phase him. He was too angry to let it.
“You sick fuck! You ruined all other men for me! Bastard!” He was never big enough to fight, but he knew his words were sharp as daggers. “You did this to me! You fat stupid sick homophobic bastard. You‘re a stalker with no hope. ”
“Hummel. I have no idea what you smoked but I haven‘t come near you since sophomore year.”
“You don‘t have to! You‘re in my head, haunting my dreams! Ruining my dates with Blaine.” Kurt really should have been more concerned about Karofsky’s clenched fist as he mention Blaine’s name. Caution did not translate well through anger. “I had a perfect elegant wonderful date that should have ended with my perfect elegant wonderful re-make of a first kiss!”
“Back off me! So go shag your little fag boyfriend for all I care.”
“Crude bastard. Is sex and football all you jock Neanderthals think about? I think about more refined things. Lovely chaste sweet kisses and blushes. ”
“Such a girl”
“I am NOT A GIRL!” Kurt shrieked and pushed his body even closer in the stall against the massive male. “I‘m male, just like you. I like gentlemen, not imbecilic meat-heads with the grace of elephants on Pointe!”
“SO GO! Be with your perfect boyfriend!” Karofsky’s face was splotching with red as he screamed inches from Kurt’s face.
“I can‘t! All I could think of was you! Your hands your lips, that horrific kiss! You ruined me!”
Karofsky blinked once, then twice, and then a final time. Suddenly Kurt was once against mashed into those chapped lips. Once more the pressure was harsh and demanding. Kurt slammed the heels of his hands into Dave’s shoulders but the boy wasn’t stopping. His mouth demanded more of Kurt and instead of surrendering Kurt fought back. He shoved his tongue down Karofsky’s throat, earning him a deep almost pained groan from the footballer and the taste of trident gum.
Kurt’s hands clawed into the red thick fabric of the Letterman as he battled. He was going to get revenge! Those huge arms that could easily harm him gripped his waist, lifting him from the ground. Kurt didn’t know what the boy was trying to do but he wrapped his long legs around Karofsky’s thick torso.
A sudden break in the kiss left long lines of spit down the stubble of Karofsky’s chin. Kurt smiled nastily at that image. It was raw and rough and passionate. This was what it should feel like.
“Like that? You‘re a boy loving faggot Karofsky.” He’d never uttered a more ugly phrase in his life. This man made him feel unchained, wild, dirty. “Come on Karofsky is that all you can do?!”
Something in those hazel eyes shifted. He couldn’t place it but before he knew it his back was slammed into the porcelain of the toilet and Dave’s strong hands were yanking open his knees. What could only be a low dark laugh came from the man before him.
“A fucking skirt. Dammit Fancy! You‘re just asking to be fucked.” Kurt smacked Karofsky’s shoulder, doing absolutely no damage.
“It‘s a kilt you uneducated swine!”
“You have stockings!” Karofsky added helpfully as the pleated fabric was pushed roughly up Kurt’s thighs. “For a man who hates me you sure look like you‘re into this.”
Kurt snarled as his manhood stood proud from his body, engorged with need. Everything about this was wrong. He was supposed to have flowers, music, a dance and a gentle romancing. He was supposed to have an elegant sweet man who would take everything slow and easy with lots of kisses and loving words. Instead he was in a filthy bathroom stall at his high school with the man he despised. He was going to make Karofsky pay.
“Suck my cock you fat bastard!”
To Kurt’s extreme surprise he did. Dave’s mouth was suddenly gulping down almost all of Kurt’s above average length. Kurt’s high voice resonated off the tile. He was encased in warmth and wet and hot! He whimpered, thrusting up roughly into that mouth. He heard the boy gag and pull back, but there was no way Kurt was letting that happen. He grabbed a fist full of Dark curly hair and forced Karofsky back down on him. He held him there, feeling that throat contract in an effort to not heave.
“Take it bitch!” He hissed out as he burst into Karofsky‘s mouth.
Kurt let Karofsky’s head go only as tears began to form at the bigger boy’s eyes. He stumbled back in the tiny stall, coughing roughly, his breath burning to refill those lungs. Kurt’s own chest rose and fell in the same rapid pace. Kurt’s semen ran down his mouth as he grimaced and ran a hand across his mouth.
“You done Hummel?” The voice was rough and without malice.
Kurt stared, his body entering a moment of euphoria where time seemed to slow. He’d just had oral sex given to him by Dave Karofsky. He’d just made the huge man gag on his dick. He felt like some kind of God. He also felt like the worst bastard on earth. He’d just become the same as the bully.
“Karofsky…. I”
“Dave! My name is Dave. At least give me that.” Tears kept falling from his eyes. Kurt didn’t know what to do.
He took in a breath and jutted his nose into the air. “I‘ll call you what I want. Now get over here and finish what you started.”
Cautiously Karofsky walked forward, only needing to take about a step before he was inches away from Kurt perched on the toilet back. Kurt raised a singly eyebrow at him. His hands shoot with nervous energy at the thought of what he was about to do. “Fuck me.”
“W…. what? Fancy you don‘t…?”
“You took my kiss. I took your first oral…. I‘m giving you my ass… my virginity. Dave… I want all of your passion, no matter how I hurts. Dave please.”
The groan that came from the huge male was one of joy and defeat, desire and hatred, lust and love and something fragile that Kurt refused to think on. Once more those lips were on him. All of the fire, all of the passion pulsing between them. It was messy, mouths open and sliding across each other. Their teeth clinked once and Kurt sucked hard on Dave’s tongue, tasting the bitterness of his passion on that tongue.
Dave’s big hands pressed up Kurt’s pale perfect thighs to spread his ass. He hesitated there. Kurt pulled back from the mouth, panting. “Hand, give it to me.”
Dave was good at obeying Kurt and his fingers came up to the countertenor’s mouth. He sucked two of those thick digits into his mouth. He slathered them, enjoying the panting moans of the larger male. Once they were dripping he let them out of his mouth with a pop. Dave returned it to Kurt’s slightly widened hole. He pressed the first finger in with ease. Kurt was extremely happy for the passion that had encouraged him to finger in the shower. It would help. As a second thick finger entered he whined in pleasure and pain. Dave slowed then, thrusting his fingers in and out until Kurt was mewling and rocking on his hand.
At the third finger Kurt screamed, the sound captured the second after it was made by Dave’s mouth. Carefully the boy pressed into, stilling to let Kurt adjust. Kurt hissed, letting himself get lost in the kiss pushing the pain away. Soon he was mewling again, pressing himself on and off Dave’s hand. “In… please in…”
Those fingers exited, leaving Kurt empty. He tensed as he heard the sound of Dave’s belt clang to the floor. A soft rustling of wrangler jeans later and Kurt knew the other boy stood naked, well half naked. He still wore the garish Letterman and his blue T-shirt. Kurt couldn’t see what Dave was about to press into him, not from his position on the back of the toilet. Suddenly two strong hands were lifting him again, placing him facing the toilet, his feet on the ground. Kurt tried to turn, but there was a warm insistent pressure on his stretched hole. He gasped, pushing back against the massive intrusion.
In one swift thrust Kurt was filled. He screamed again, the massive girth of the boy much larger then the fingering had prepared him for. Tears ran down his face as it felt like he was ripping apart. The only saving grace was that Dave had stilled.
“Kurt?” Karofsky sounded strangled by the pleasure of his buried cock. Kurt choked out a laugh. This was probably everything Dave ever wanted. He obviously had self-destructive tendancies and was probably thinking this was as good as life gets. No candles, no sweet kisses, no romance. No just the shameful dirty secret of fucking in a bathroom with no condom, no fancy sweet-smelling lube. Nothing nice, nothing good, nothing Perfect.
“Just do it!” Kurt growled at the other boy.
“You‘re in pain…”
“I want the pain! Now! ”
“Kurt we shouldn‘t… you can‘t be enjoying.”
“Karofsky if you ever want a shot to make this perfect, make this feel good you will pound my little virgin ass until I pass-out!”
He obeyed, at least Neanderthals were good at obeying direct orders. The pain was searing over him with each sharp grunting thrust. It was all pain, he couldn’t tell if Dave was going deep or shallow. Kurt’s forehead rested against the cold of the toilet back, his hands clawing over the smooth surface.
Suddenly a large warm hand cupped his balls. His cock was limp between his legs and those big fingers wrapped around him, jerking, fumbling in his attempt to bring Kurt pleasure. Kurt could feel a smile through his tears. He really did try to make it perfect didn’t he? He was trying… Maybe this was okay then. This mad wanted him, wanted him more then perfect could ever provide. Dave wanted him more then sense, more then elegance, more then perfect. He desired him enough to be angry, be push, to be rough, to be passionate and reckless. This was what he wanted.
Suddenly the huge man screamed out his name, the harsh syllables ringing over the tile. It was perfect.
The man was still, his rapidly softening manhood slipping from Kurt’s abused hole. His hand slid away from Kurt’s still unreasoning cock. Those big hands petted Kurt’s flank and his voice was whispering soft words into Kurt’s skin. “You‘re so beautiful, I‘m sorry I hurt you. I‘m sorry I‘m not brave like you. Thank you for letting me touch you. Kurt you‘re beautiful, or elegant, so perfect. I love you Kurt, Fancy you‘re such a tease I can‘t stop watching you walk no matter how hard I try. ”
“Not perfect.” Kurt whimpered as he pressed himself up, he turned and sat on the toilet letting the evidence of their interaction drain from him. “Ouch… fuck that hurts.”
“Sorry. I shouldn‘t have.”
“Shush.”
“Alright…. Kurt….” Dave’s voice sounded so worried, so small.
“Yes?”
“I can do this better… I mean I can give you everything you ever wanted. I know you don‘t like me. I know I‘m fat and ugly and not your type.”
“You‘re not my type…. You‘re not perfect… ” He leaned forward to Kiss the other boy gently. It was a soft press of two lips. Dave let out the soft breathy gasp not Kurt. Kurt smiled as the fireworks went off. “I don‘t want perfect. I want you.”
- 1
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Passion is Never Perfect