Title: Fractured
Rating: Mature/NC17
Characters: Kurt Hummel, David Karofsky
Summary:"Karofsky has no idea what he's doing. He had seen Hummel walk out of the choir room alone and was just going to take a quick swipe at him before heading out to the parking lot."
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I don't own the characters, just the story.
Warnings: homophobia, violence, language, sexual assault

Kurt can't breathe. He was trying – God, was he trying – but breath eluded him. He tried again to yank at the hand around his throat, but it held fast. He moved his hands down to the wrist of his captor and dug his nails in, but it did nothing.

How could this be happening? He was in the middle of school – a place he should be safe… or, at least, relatively safe. David Karofsky saw to it that Kurt never truly felt completely safe – and would he just let go of his neck already? Couldn't he see that Kurt couldn't breathe?

It was the end of the school day, and Kurt had stayed behind to help Mr. Schuester decorate posters for the next school assembly. Finn was staying late for football practice, and rather than come back to pick him up, or count on him to hopefully catch a ride from someone else, Kurt elected to stay behind. Whether his decision had anything to do with the fact that nearly everyone else bolted from the room after Glee practice - even as Mr. Schue was requesting their assistance, even as his teacher's shoulders slumped when he realized it didn't seem a single of his favorite students wanted to help him – doesn't really matter.

As it was, Kurt was making his way to the field to watch from the bleachers until Finn was ready to leave when he was suddenly accosted from behind. A huge mass bodyslammed him into a set of lockers, and Kurt immediately knew it was Karofsky. While there were many people who made his life a living hell at McKinley, Karofsky was by far the most physical of them all. Most of the Neanderthals at the school were content to throw frozen beverages in his face, spit ugly names at him and slip nasty notes into his locker. When they wanted to get especially forceful, they might throw a foot out to trip him up or, as is occurred at least once a week, heft him into the trash dumpster at the side of the school.

Karofsky, on the other hand, seemed to make it his personal mission to manhandle him and inflict as many bruises as possible. Kurt couldn't think of a time in the last three years, outside of summer, when he didn't have at least one blemish marring his skin. Most of the marks were obviously covered, not that it was necessarily Karofsky's intention. No, it was just a matter of happenstance that most bruises appeared on his back, shoulder and legs: just the result of a back suddenly meeting a hard, unwieldy locker, a shoulder colliding with the side of a dumpster or knees falling on a hard floor, he supposes.

Kurt had barely refilled his lungs after the massive shove, was preparing to turn around to yell at Karofsky, beg to know what-the-hell-is-your-problem, when his upper arm was suddenly tightly gripped, and he was propelled into the dark area under the stairwell at the end of the hall.

"Are you kidding me? What the hell do you…" was all Kurt managed to get out before a huge hand wrapped around his throat and pushed him hard against the wall. His own hands flew up to the tight band around his neck, but he could barely fit his fingers around the giant digits cutting off his air supply. Panic took hold, and Kurt found himself kicking out, trying to hit Karofsky in the shin, or knees, or God-willing, the balls. Karofsky just put more pressure on Kurt's throat, and whatever little airflow Kurt had been getting was completely cut off.

This is how we find Kurt desperately trying to meet Karofsky's eyes, trying to get him to let go, or explain himself, or let go, or anything, but Karofsky isn't even looking in Kurt's direction. He is half-peeking out around the staircase. Kurt wishes he could see what Karofsky found so fascinating while he was choking to death, or perhaps try and hear something, but the blood is rushing through his ears, and it's all that permeates his mind. That, and the white spots that are starting to dance in front of his eyes, and the horrible pressure building within his skull.

He's about to die. Kurt suddenly knows this just as he knows that, even though he has no idea what the Marc Jacobs marketing team was thinking when they decided to hock their new leather biker jacket by throwing it on flabby oaf with bad hair, he was sogoing to own that coat as soon as it showed up at Nordstrom; it is going to go fabulously with his…

He must be dying. There could be no other explanation for why his hands are losing their grip on Karofsky's arm, yet he's thinking about a jacket. Just as he's sure his eyes are about to roll into the back of his head and the pitiful flame of his life extinguished, he hears "Jesus Christ!" and the pressure on his throat is gone. Without his aggressor's grip holding him up, Kurt slumps down the wall, his lungs desperately heaving in oxygen. Kurt looks up and sees David is once again glancing around the stairs; he decides he doesn't want to know why he isn't dead and tries to get up on hands and knees. Crawling is in no way the most dignified means of escape, but nearly being suffocated has a strange way of putting things in perspective, Kurt thinks.

Kurt manages to move about a foot and a half when Karofsky is suddenly grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. It takes ridiculously little effort before Kurt is once again pinned up against the wall. Still panting, Kurt meets David's eyes for the first time since the attack, and he can't help the way he starts trembling at the intensity of the other boy's glare.

"What do you want?" Kurt finally forces out in a harsh and breathless whisper.

Karofsky's lips form a half-smile, half-sneer before he's pulling Kurt away from the wall. It takes but a second before Kurt is flipped around, his back pulled against Karofsky's chest, the football player's arm wrapped around Kurt's midsection, pinning down his arms, while the other hand quickly cover's the singer's mouth.

"You're coming with me," is all Karofsky mutters before dragging Kurt down the hall.

As to be expected this time of day, the hallways of McKinley High are near-deserted. Kurt can hear a couple of guys laughing, but they are in the distance, around some corner, and it doesn't matter now because there is a door being pushed opened behind him and he's being pulled back into a dark and empty classroom.

David is lying heavily against the now-closed door, and Kurt is lying heavily against David, and they are both breathing hard – Kurt in absolute terror, David in… well, Kurt's not sure what, but he doesn't like the way that David still hasn't let him go. It's almost as if the bigger boy is trying to figure something out, or collect his wits, or both.

Karofsky finally rights himself and his hand is pulled away from Kurt's mouth to lock the door. Before Kurt can gather the air to scream, the hand is back over his mouth and he's being frogmarched down an aisle of desks and towards the back of the room – away from the door and away from freedom.

When they reach the back of the darkened classroom, Kurt is violently shoved from Karofsky's arms; he makes impact with the back wall before stumbling and ending up on the ground. Cowering, hands held in front of his face in a pathetic attempt at self-defense, Kurt tries again: "What do you want?"

"Right now, I want you to shut up," Karofsky spits.

Kurt shakes his head. "This has gone too far. You can't be doing this." Karofsky says nothing and Kurt continues, "let me go. Let me out of here right now."

Karofsky stares hard at Kurt. It's only a moment – though it feels like hours to Kurt – before his tormentor kneels down to Kurt's level. "No," he says simply.

Their eyes lock. Kurt's are wide and fearful and Karofsky's… Kurt can't tell what he sees in David's eyes. Part of him thinks he also sees fear, but there is also a hint of confusion… maybe determination?

Either way, Kurt decides it really isn't his job to delve into the mind of one David Karofsky. He pushes forward suddenly, pushing at Karofsky's shoulders, and sending the other boy to his ass. Kurt quickly darts to the right and tries to get his feet under him so he can flee. Karofsky recovers faster than Kurt expected, and the boy's meaty hands are grabbing at Kurt's ankle and shirt before Kurt can get off the floor. Once again, Kurt is thrown into the wall and this time, when he falls to the floor, Karofsky is climbing on top of him.

"Get off me! Get offme!" Kurt screams, arms flailing as he tries to push Karofsky off and squirm away. The slap to the face is jarring and quickly silences the struggling boy.

Kurt looks up Karofsky just as the other boy covers his mouth again.

"You say another word and I swear to God, I will break your fucking jaw; do you understand me?"

Karofsky's eyes are hard and unforgiving now; whatever traces of uncertainty or fear Kurt thought he saw before, are gone.

"I asked if you fucking understand me?" Karofsky uses his handhold on Kurt's face and jaw to violently shake the smaller boy's head.

Kurt's nodding before he's even thought to do so. It is unnerving to hear Karofsky cursing so violently at him; the worse he's ever heard come out of the other boy's mouth are some derogatory slurs, but even then, he'd stuck to his repertoire of 'fag', 'homo', and when he was being particularly crude, 'cocksucker'. This brutality is different; it's raw and hurtful and downright terrifying.

"One word…" Karofsky threateningly reminds before slowly removing his hand from Kurt's face. Kurt sobs before he can help himself, and his hands fly to cover his mouth. The tears that had begun to pool in his eyes fall at the sudden motion, and he has to bite his lip to keep from begging, 'please'.

Karofsky is heavy on Kurt's hips and thighs, and Kurt's lower back is starting to ache from being pressed so harshly to the lightly-carpeted floor. Kurt wishes he could move a little to relieve the pressure, or simply push Karofsky off of him, but his hands stay over his mouth, and his wide eyes never leave his attacker's face.

For his part, Karofsky is just staring at Kurt – over his face, over his chest, following the lines of his fingers, down his arms, to his shoulders, and back up. It makes Kurt feel like an evening meal – helpless prey caught by a lion – the way David's eyes keep moving back and forth, scanning, thinking, but not saying a word.

Kurt has no idea what to think. For as much as Karofsky's physical taunting has escalated, this reaches a whole new level; they are alone in a locked room and Karofsky looks… predatory. If Kurt would allow himself to think about, he might think of how sexual in nature their position is. But he doesn't get the opportunity to consider it because Karosky is shifting, and Kurt suddenly feels a warm, solid presence against his lower stomach.

The confusion is evident in the trapped boy's eyes; he actually has to look down to figure out what is happening and what it is exactly that he's feeling.

"Oh, my god!" Kurt tries to scream when he realizes it is Karofsky's erection rubbing against him. Karofsky's threat is forgotten as self-preservation kicks in. Kurt bucks against the mass holding him down, arms flailing as he tries to shift the large boy off of him. Karofsky seems half-panicked himself, but it isn't long before his hands are chasing Kurt's wrists, trying to pin him down. Kurt operates on the notion that if David succeeds, he has little hope of leaving the room unhurt.

After several attempts to catch the other's wrists, Karofsky's hands return to Kurt's throat.

"No," Kurt moans as a hand locks around the delicate area. Pain he had forgotten about re-blossoms and breathing suddenly becomes more difficult. Kurt tugs at the fingers with all his might as Karofsky's other hand fiddles with Kurt's scarf. The material comes away effortlessly, and Karofsky takes a moment to shakily bring it to his nose, before meeting Kurt's eyes.

Kurt doesn't know how he realizes Karofsky's intentions so soon, but it doesn't matter because he doesn't have enough time to act; the bulky kid has crawled up his body and is crowding the smaller boy's arms against his chest. Tying Kurt's wrists together – with his own scarf – is comically easy and Kurt can only watch in horror as David reaches over him to affix the other end of the material to a table leg just over his head. Once the knot is tied off, Kurt pulls as hard as he can, but he can see the stacks of textbooks on the table's surface will prevent him from moving the piece of furniture even an inch.

Movement at his neck again snaps Kurt's head back in Karofsky's direction in time to see him take hold of the singer's tie. The knot comes undone quickly, and Karosky yanks away the accessory with a vicious pull that has Kurt's head and neck off the ground for a second before tumbling back down.

"Stop!" Kurt begs, his head twisting this way and that as David struggles to get the tie between Kurt's teeth. "Please! Don't do this!"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Karofsky growls, a hand fisting in Kurt's hair. The tie is shoved into Kurt's mouth, and David releases the boy's hair so he can quickly secure the makeshift gag around his head. When he's finished, Karofsky settles back on Kurt's upper thighs. His chest is heaving, much like Kurt's, and his eyes are darting around the room while he gnaws on his bottom lip.

It occurs to Kurt that Karofsky seems conflicted; perhaps he never meant for it to go this far? Perhaps he was just looking to spook Kurt, but Kurt overreacted and Karofsky reacted worse? Kurt yanks his bound hands again and tries to say something through the gag, but all that comes out is an unintelligible and muffled noise. It starts with a small grin, but soon, a huge smile breaks out over Karofsky's face. He leans down and viciously pinches Kurt's side. Kurt wails and it is not lost on him – as apparently it is not lost on Karofsky – that the tie effectively keeps him from calling out for help, or making much noise at all, for that matter.

Karofsky leans forward then, lets his weight rest on forearms propped up on either side of Kurt's shoulders. The trapped boy tries to pull back, but can only go so far. David's face is inches from Kurt's; it is so close Kurt can feel the puffs of air as they leave David's mouth and hit his cheek. Karofsky's lower body shifts and his groin grinds into Kurt's stomach again. Kurt desperately shakes his head, tries to convey with his eyes and his hopeless whimpers, that this is notokay.

"Why are you shaking your head? You don't even know what's going to happen yet. You might like it," Karofsky whispers and new tears spill from Kurt's eyes, his head shaking more frantically.

This can't be happening, Kurt thinks. This can't be happening.

But Karofsky's body is still heavy on his, pressing down and shifting. A moan escapes the larger boy's mouth, and Kurt suddenly feels like he's taking in too much air and not enough at same time. Pulling at the scarf around his hands is doing little more than chafing his wrists, and it's with sick horror that he realizes his struggling is further exciting his captor.

Please! Please don't do this, Kurt tries to cry, but Karofsky ignores him and rubs into his stomach with more purpose. Karofsky lifts himself up and places his hands flat on Kurt's chest. Slowly, the hands start to move in small circles, fingertips pressing into the skin and tracing the lines of muscles and bones, as they make their way down his sternum, over his stomach and around his hips. David pulls Kurt's shirt from the waistband of his navy-blue jeans and pushes the material up to expose the pale boy's body.

Kurt squeals and tries to buck up, his eyes desperately trying to meet the other's, but it's as if Karofsky is in another world; his dark eyes are following his fingers as he retraces the area again without cloth in the way. Kurt's skin is soft, Karofsky notices; soft the way he imagines a woman's would be, but still firm as it stretches over softly-defined muscle. It's fascinating to Karofsky to see Kurt's chest heaving, to watch him struggle to get enough air in through his nose. Whenever he moves his fingers, a new crop of goosebumps breaks out over the skin, and Kurt redoubles his efforts to break free.

Karofsky has no idea what he's doing. He had seen Hummel walk out of the choir room alone and was just going to take a quick swipe at him before heading out to the parking lot. His body was already in motion when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone – maybe that pansy glee club director – bag in hand, preparing to leave and lock up a classroom. By now, he's already crashed into the fairy, and there's no way the faculty member didn't hear the impact of a body with the lockers. During the busy school day, it would be easy enough to cry accident if anyone called him out on pushing around the other boy, but at the end of the day, in an empty hallway with no one else around?

Karofsky had no desire to face detention, or worse – suspension, and is grabbing at the smaller kid and dragging him under a stairwell before his mind even processes the action. A hand at his throat is more than enough to keep the little freak still while Karofsky peers back out in the hallway. As he expected, it was the glee club teacher he'd spotted, and he's standing at the hallway intersection, head swiveling in each direction in an attempt to locate the noise he'd thought he'd heard.

Hummel was twisting around too much, and Karofsky thoughtlessly pushed harder, glancing just long enough to see that the other kid was contained before he took another look into the hallway. He just manages to see Schuester walking away, obviously satisfied that there isn't anything amiss.

Karofsky turned to bitch at Hummel for squirming so much when he realized the kid's face was red and his eyes were losing focus. He quickly let go and watched as Kurt slid down the wall in a fit of gasps and choking sounds. Karofsky turned back to the direction they'd come, certain the teacher was going to come back and catch him. Seconds turned to a minute, to two minutes, and when no one returned, Karofsky realized he'd gotten off scot-free, or at least would, as soon as he convinced Hummel to keep his mouth shut about the incident.

Seeing Hummel try to crawl away pissed Karofsky off more than it probably should have. He watched the teen move for a few seconds before thoughts of a dark, quiet classroom flitted into his mind. He hauled the slight boy back up and against the wall, wheels churning on a plan to drag Hummel into the empty English room and knock a little sense into him.

He hadn't expected to tie the boy up and gag him. But as Hummel lay beneath him, trembling, shaking and crying, David couldn't get over the heady sense of power flowing through his veins. He could do anything, and there wasn't a single thing Hummel could do to stop him. Before he knew it, he was hard and heavy between the legs and he doesn't know why, because it's fucking Kurt the fairy Hummel under him, and he's so turned on, and he's got Kurt's shirt shoved up around his neck and shoulders; and he's hypnotized, caressing the boy's warm, pale skin.

A choked off sob breaks him from his revere, and he looks up to see Hummel's fingers madly trying to untie the knot around his wrists.

"Stop it," he hisses and delivers a fast, open-handed slap to the side of Hummel's face. The blow wasn't particularly heavy, but Kurt's head snaps to the side as if sucker-punched. He's slow to bring his face forward, but when he does, Karofsky can already see the red mark blossoming across his cheek. His face is soaked with tears, and Karofsky knows he should be disgusted with how beautiful he finds the sight.

The bigger boy's hands are suddenly tearing at Kurt's belt buckle. Karofsky doesn't know why, he just knows he has to get these pants off. His hands are moving by their own accord, and he truly feels like he couldn't stop them if he tried. Kurt is bucking again, writhing against the scarf at his wrists and screaming into the gag. Karofsky is absolutely terrified of what he's doing, but a quick glance up shows that whatever he feels, Hummel feels it three times worse.

The belt is gone, and the buttons of the skinny jeans much too easy to pry apart. Karofsky can't fathom how Kurt gets himself into these pants, because it's taking more effort than he thought he'd need to pull them down. Hummel's body sways and jerks with each tug, and David can see the red marks he's leaving behind on the teen's lower stomach and thighs as he drags the material downwards.

Karofsky isn't quite sure how two guys fuck, but he imagines it's similar to the way a man and a woman would do it: take tab A and insert into slot B. He's only got one tab and Hummel only one slot, and though the thought of sticking his junk thereis nearly enough to turn his stomach, the thought of not going through with it, not relieving this sudden pressure and giving over to his animalistic instincts, is worse.

The jeans are finally down around Hummel's knees, and Karofsky's faced with the smaller boy's black Calvin Klein briefs. The larger boy freezes.

This isn't happening, he thinks. He's got Kurt fucking Hummel near naked and tied up under him. I can't believe this is happening.

The boy's stomach is quivering, and Karofsky doesn't think twice before he leans down to brush his lips just below Kurt's belly button. The reaction is instant – the sobs Kurt had been trying to hold in break free, and he starts to struggle again. Kurt is pulling on his bound hands so ruthlessly, Karofsky is sure the boy is going to dislocate a shoulder. He presses another kiss to the flat, smooth stomach and whispers shhhinto the skin, but it doesn't matter – Kurt is going wild, and there is no calming him.

David hefts himself back up and works on his own jeans. He isn't going to stay here all night, and he's desperate to get this – whatever thisis – over with. When his jeans and boxers are pulled down to his own knees, he takes hold of Kurt's hips and flips the boy over. The smaller student immediately tries to rear up on hands and knees, and Karofsky is sending a punch into Kurt's kidney before he realizes it. The boy collapses with a deep moan, and Karofsky wastes no time pulling Hummel's hips up, while using a hand at the back of the boy's neck to keep his lower body down.

Karofsky is confused about what to do now, and the way that Kurt keeps screaming and choking is making it hard for him to concentrate. He drags Hummel's underwear down to pool with his jeans; he shifts forward a little, trying to find the best way to… proceed… but he can't find (what he assumes) is a good angle. Hummel is still crying, body trembling and his shoulders shaking with uncontrolled sobs, arms pulled tightly forward, hands red and clenching. Karofsky takes a deep breath and then another, and suddenly, time seems to stop.

Kurt knows he's breathing, but it doesn't feel like his lungs are getting any air. He's been half-stripped, and there is a rough, beefy monster holding him down, his pants around his knees getting ready to… another wave of panic rolls over Kurt, but with his hands bound and pulled above his head, his lower back aching and his legs pinned by both his jeans and Karofsky's own weight, he can't get the leverage to do anything more but cry harder.

This is not how his first time should be, not how anyone'sfirst time should be. He knows he should be bracing himself for pain – terrible, stabbing, excruciating pain – or trying to work on loosening the scarf at his wrists again, but he's so panicked he can't grasp onto a thought for longer than a few seconds. His chest is starting to ache, and he realizes there are white spots moving in front of his eyes again. He's hyperventilating and if he doesn't stop, he's going to pass out.

Karofsky doesn't know where he went, but he's certain his mind briefly checked out. He's snapped back into present time by the harsh sound of Kurt's breathing. As if being introduced to the situation for the first time, Karofsky looks down and realizes what he's doing.

I am going to rape Kurt Hummel.

The self-confession hits him like a freight-train, knocking him back and away from the bound boy. The sudden movement startles Kurt, and his panting abruptly changes to full-out choking.

I was getting ready to rape Kurt.

Karofsky quickly draws up his pants, not bothering to zip or button. He does the same for Kurt before twisting him back around. Ensuring that the tie in his mouth hasn't actually found its way down Kurt's throat, David shoulders the large table above Kurt's head and drags the scarf loop out from under its leg. Large hands grasp Kurt's shoulders and push him into a sitting position.

Oh, my god. I was going to rape him.

Karofsky kneels behind the boy and reaches into his back pocket to pull out the Leatherman his father gave him for his 14th birthday. He was just going to free the stupid kid and get out of there, but at the sight of the knife, Kurt loses what little composure he had regained, and his breathing starts to stutter again.

"Quit moving!" Karofsky demands as he brings the pocketknife towards Kurt's face. The smaller teen whimpers, his body unconsciously pushing back into David's chest. At the first touch of the cold steel against his cheek, he freezes.

Karofsky takes a second before moving any further. He needs to do damage control.

"You didn't think I was going to do it, did you?" David laughs, silently praying that his voice sounds as sure and as cocky as he wants it to. "I'm not some fucking fag like you."

Kurt doesn't move save to take hard breaths through his nose and keep his eyes tightly closed.

"I hope you've learned your lesson. Don't fuck with me again," Karofsky hisses. Kurt's eyes snap open at this, and Karofsky mentally kicks himself in the ass. It was a weak argument and a stupid threat – Kurt hadn't even doneanything – but he couldn't take it back now. He settles for twisting the blade away from Kurt's face and smoothly slicing through the thick tie. It falls away from Hummel's mouth, but neither boy moves for long seconds.

Karofsky finally leans over the slight boy, and repeats the motion on the scarf around his wrists. Kurt's hands are cold, and there are bright, ugly marks, various shades of red and purple, discoloring the area. The sight is like a kick to Karofsky's stomach.

I was going to rape him.

Kurt pulls his hands away when it becomes clear Karofsky isn't going to let go, and pushes away from the larger teenager's bulk; his back collides with the hard wall, but he doesn't even flinch, just pulls his legs up to his chest and stares at the knife in David's hand.

The knife folds up with a loud click, and Karofsky slips it back into his pocket as he stands up. He does up the zipper and button on his jeans while staring hard at the boy on the floor. Tears are still streaming down his face, and while breathing hard, he isn't panting or sobbing like he had been.

"I hope it goes without saying that you're going to keep your mouth shut about this, right?" Karofsky asks. Kurt doesn't raise his eyes to Karofsky's and doesn't acknowledge the threat. The larger boy grunts and walks away. When he reaches the locked door, he turns back to see that Hummel hasn't moved; he's still sitting with his back pressed up against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Part of him wants to say something to Kurt, feels like something else hasto be said, but decides he's said - and done - enough.

Without another word, David lets himself out of the room, leaving Kurt trembling and terrified, alone and sitting in the dark.