HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KAROFSKY

By KidaChan

.Com

Dave Karofsky frowned at the card in his hands. The front of it was a simple illustration of a present, and inside were three words.

"Happy Birthday, Dave."

And below that, map coordinates.

Dave was confused, and flipped the card over in his hand, examining the back of it – which was blank – and then back to re-read the words inside.

The card itself had been placed in a blank, yellow envelope and placed under the windshield wipers on his car. Dave had found it on his way to iHop, where he had planned to treat himself to a birthday breakfast feast of pancakes and sausage.

Dave winced. No, not sausage. Bacon! He was gonna have bacon. Crispy, flat, non-phallic-shaped BACON.

But it WAS his birthday, and maybe Azimio had planned a surprise party for him. Smiling at that thought, though he couldn't much think of anyone who would show up to such a party, considering the losers of McKinley hated him cause he was a bully – and now the popular kids of McKinley hated him cause he was a BullyWhip.

Dave closed the door behind him and thumbed the coordinates into his GPS. The destination was twelve miles out of Lima, in an area he didn't recognize. Deciding to take his chances – hey, it was his birthday – Dave started driving, following the route.

After a while, Dave didn't recognize his surroundings. His car was hugging the side of a hill that led up to a forest area – a field of golden weeds along the other side. Where was this taking him? It had been a while since he had passed another car before the GPS instructed him to turn down what appeared to be a private road, enclosed by trees on both sides. Looking forward down the road, Dave noticed a small, brown building coming up in a clearing on the right, which also seemed to be where the road ended. He slowed his car and the GPS spoke.

"Destination reached."

Dave turned off his car and sat, staring at the building.

A wooden shack? The directions brought him to a wooden shack in the forest? What was he getting for his birthday – yard tools?

Curiosity getting the best of him, Dave got out and locked his car, then walked up to the wooden shed. On the door was a yellow piece of paper. As he got closer, he saw it was a post-it note.

"Happy Birthday. Hope you like it."

Dave pulled the note off, shoving it into the pocket of his letterman jacket as he opened the door. After taking a few steps inside, his eyes adjusted to the dark, aided by the light streaming in behind him – and he froze.

The room was small, the size of a square walk-in closet. There was no furniture except for a steel table in the middle. And there was someone, a boy, facing away from the door, bent over the table.

Naked.

Taking stock of the scene before him, Dave noticed that the boy's slender legs were pulled apart; tied at the ankles with leather straps to legs of the table. His wrists had straps around them as well, hooked to metal chains that disappeared over the far side of the table. He assumed that they were tied up as well, trapping the pale boy.

"What the fuck?" He said aloud.

The boy moved, turning his head to look at who had spoken. Dave took in the long-cut, brunette hair – the bangs of which fell in the way of piercing blue eyes. Fair complexion. Pink, pouty lips. The boy was completely breathtaking.

And Dave recognized him.

It was Hummel. Kurt fucking Hummel.

And Kurt fucking Hummel recognized Dave too. But rather than the panic or fear that Dave was expecting to fall over the smaller teen's features, Kurt's eyes just widened and he whimpered, "Help."

Dave slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it. His heart was racing and mind whirling at a crazy pace. He could hear his voice stammering, but he couldn't get words out – he just stared at Kurt Hummel, the bane to his existence, the boy he lusted after for years, strapped naked to a table. And he was just standing there with his mouth gaping open and closed like a fish, eyes probably bugging out of his sockets. The jock raised a hand to his forehead, blocking his eyes as he averted his gaze to the floor. It was easier to think when he wasn't looking at the boy splayed out before him.

After a taking a few deep breaths, Dave finally got out words. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know. Please, just help me." Kurt said from across the room.

Dave didn't move. To help Kurt, he'd have to walk closer to him. And more than that, he'd have to LOOK at him. Dave didn't think he could handle that.

"David." Shit, Hummel said his name. Dave felt his knees go weak.

And that was when his hand dropped and his gaze focused in on the body before him – pale and breathtaking, long lean back that curved into the most beautiful bottom he had ever seen (and Dave had watched his fair share of "those movies") – and that's when he realized…there was something, well….INSIDE Hummel.

It was black and round, like a small pool ball, hindering his view at what he really wanted to be viewing.

Kurt let out a groan, "Please…get it out."

Dave took a step forward, then hesitated. "Hummel, let me call someone. Let me get help."

"YOU are help, please…Karofsky, get it out. I can't take it anymore."

The boy's pleading urged Dave to approach until he was staring down at Hummel strapped to the table. He was right – Kurt was tied up at both his wrists and ankles. He was completely immobile, completely restrained and unable to resist anything…it made Dave feel VERY nervous and a trickle of sweat dripped down the side of his forehead.

He knelt, now eye-level with Kurt's bottom, and Dave couldn't tell if his life was heading for Heaven or Hell at the moment.

"Wh…what is that?" Dave asked, knowing Hummel would understand what he was asking about.

Kurt groaned, "They're beads…just get them out!"

"Those aren't beads, it's…it's HUGE!"

"Karofsky!"

"Alright, alright…sorry." Dave blinked, realizing his eyes were huge as he looked at the ass that haunted his dreams – the creamy skin and tight, pink entrance that he had imagined over and over again. It was right in front of him. Dave tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it – he wanted to set it in his memory.

"Are…are you sure you want…ME…to do this?"

"DAVE…please."

David shivered – it was like Kurt had sung his name, soft and breathy – it was the most sensual thing he had ever heard.

Taking a deep breath, he reached, gripped around the ball. It was a little larger than a Ping-Pong ball and had a little weight – Dave guessed it was made out of rubber. He started to pull on it, slowly, and saw it was attached to a thick rubber string. Then another ball crowned Kurt's pink hole and emerged with a lewd "pop" sound. Dave suddenly realized two things – one, the balls were lubed, and two, there were more of them. And he wasn't sure he could handle either of those truths without freaking out.

Kurt mewled – but whether it was from pain or pleasure, or both, Dave wasn't sure. The second ball had its own tail that disappeared into Kurt's orifice, which was rosy and swollen, and oh so temping to David. His mouth was watering and he wanted nothing more than to pull the rest of the toy out in one movement and lay his tongue over the bud, soothing it with languid, wet licks until Kurt was moaning his name.

Dave shook his head as though dislodging this thought – he was attempting to be a good person here and dreaming was not helping. He realized that he'd stopped pulling and Kurt was twisting, trying to look at him, even though David was ducked below the table.

"Karofsky?" The questioning tone brought the jock back to reality.

"Sorry," he muttered, "didn't want to rush and hurt you."

"Just do it."

Oh, how many times Dave had imagined the boy saying those exact words to him – though the situation was never like this in his mind. He shifted his knees, renewing his grip on the toy, and began to pull again. Steadily and slow, a third ball removed itself from Kurt, and then a fourth. The noises Kurt was making had a direct line to Dave's dick. He was hard. And painfully so.

"How…how many are there?" Dave asked.

Kurt winced, "I don't remember."

Finally, a fifth ball exited and fell upon Dave's lap with a muted thud. Kurt let out a heavy sigh. David glanced down at it and then back up to Kurt, still holding the first one in his hand. Kurt's body was moving with the deep breaths he was taking, straining against the table. His hole was pulsing, stretched open. Dave felt like his dick was throbbing along with it.

"Dave?"

Oh shit, he'd been staring. Practically drooling. David slung the toy away from him. It smacked against the wall loudly and fell to the floor.

"So…what happened?" Dave asked, untying one of Kurt's ankles.

"I was walking to my truck when someone came up behind me and put a rag over my face. I think it was chloroform, because I passed out, and when I woke up, I was here."

Dave moved to undo the other leg.

Kurt continued talking. "And I was tied up, and I felt sore and…wet…and those were in me. I don't know how long I was here trying to get out, but I gave up and I think I fell asleep, and then the door opened and I woke up and you were here and…"

Kurt was babbling. He sounded scared. Dave's mind began to race.

Whoever had done this knew Dave…was close to him. And knew he was gay. Maybe even knew he had a thing for Kurt.

Santana? No. She was a bitch, but she would never do this to Kurt.

No way was it his dad.

There was only one person it could be. The only friend he had officially come out to over the summer. Azimio.

But he couldn't just rat out his best friend, right? Or SHOULD he turn Z in? I mean, if he had done this to Kurt. Shit, and how was he gonna explain why he was here or how he found Kurt in the first place? Shit. Shit shit SHIT!

Dave finished with the leather straps and Kurt's feet touched the ground, but he didn't bring his legs together. Dave couldn't stop his eyes from blinking towards the boy's ass. It was like trying to avoid the gory scene of a horror movie – he couldn't help but watch.

Dave stood, placing a hand on Kurt's lower back to help himself up. Kurt groaned at the pressure. Realizing what he'd done, Dave pulled his hand back.

"Sorry, shit! I'm so sorry!" He apologized, eyes darting down to Kurt's backside again. They trailed lower to the pale ass, and then focused on the swollen entrance. He could see the lube around it shining from the hanging light of the shack. David licked his lips, imagining his fingers working into the tight warmth, and then, oh god, pushing in there – feeling the boy moving beneath him, moving his ass up to meet Dave's strokes and – Kurt wiggled at that exact moment.

Before Dave could think, he had undone the button of his jeans, pulled down the zipper, reached in and freed his cock, then thrust into Kurt in one move. Kurt bucked into the table and screamed.

His hands were on Kurt's hips an instant later, pulling him backwards and into his thrusts, just as he had imagined. He didn't know what he was doing. But it felt good. It felt so, so good. Kurt was hot and tight and moaning beneath him, gripping the front of the table, his knuckles white. The room filled with their gasps and groans, and the sound of the table legs rutting against the floor.

Kurt was moaning and muttering words that David couldn't make out. And gasping, writhing beneath him. WRITHING. The damn twink was fucking WRITHING on the table. The twisting it caused on his dick as he pounded into Kurt's warmth was almost overwhelming. Sweat droplets formed on Dave's brow and dripped down the sides of his face – it didn't bother him, though the view of Kurt's backside glistening with its own perspiration drove him crazy.

"Kurt, shit….Kurt." He groaned, pressing forward, bending over Kurt's body, his cheek resting on the other boy's neck.

Kurt was arching his back off the table now, pushing himself closer to Dave. The latter reached one hand around the lithe form, fingers wrapping around Kurt's cock. It was smaller than his, thin and so fucking hot and David would have let Santana crack BOTH of his testicles to see it right now. He began to pump Kurt, sporadic with the thrust of his hips and Kurt pushing forward into his fist.

Kurt whined, "oh god…YES, oh my god." He was breathing in sharp, short breaths and David could feel him trembling. The boy let out a whimper and the tightness around Dave squeezed. It was unbearably good. And Kurt had said "yes", Kurt wanted this, wanted HIM.

And that sent him over the edge. Dave came. Hard. "Shit, shit…" he whispered into Kurt's neck. "Kurt…I love you…I love you, oh god."

His cock pulsated as it emptied itself into Kurt, hot and wet. Kurt groaned and pushed his forehead onto the tabletop underneath him, fingers clenching and unclenching the side of the table and David felt the length in his hand twitch – and it was suddenly wet and warm and sticky from Kurt's own release.

He let go and braced his hands against the table, not wanting to press his weight upon the boy beneath him. For a few precious moments, David just breathed, elated that he had made love to Kurt Hummel. And then two words broke through his Heaven.

"Get off."

His heart plummeted and he felt like he was going to vomit. Standing, David took a step back and his flaccid cock pulled out of Kurt, slick and spent. He pulled his pants up quickly, tucking himself back inside. He didn't care if it was dirty and gross. What he'd just done to Kurt was far worse than anything else at that moment.

David moved around to the front of the table, getting on his knees to undo the straps around Kurt's wrists. His brow furrowed in mock concentration. Kurt was staring at him, but Dave refused to meet his gaze.

Once free from the bonds, Kurt turned so he could sit up on the table, rubbing his wrists. Dave glared at the floor. After a pause, he said, "I'm sorry."

"Who was it?" Kurt asked. Dave froze.

"I…I can't." Guilty, David crossed the room and grabbed the handle of the door.

"You can't?" Repeated Kurt from behind him. "You can't tell me who kidnapped me so that you could…" he didn't finish, but they both heard the word in their minds.

And then Dave was crying. Sobbing, actually, so overwhelmed that he had to grip the doorframe. He couldn't breathe properly, and the hand he had placed over his mouth wasn't helping.

Something touched his arm and Dave spun his head, realizing Kurt had moved over to him. And then Kurt's arms were around him and he was sobbing into the boy's shoulder. But why, he didn't understand. Why was Kurt trying to comfort him? He pulled back and looked into the beautiful cerulean eyes of an angel – his angel.

A smile played on the soprano's lips, and he moved a hand behind Dave's neck, pulling him down. Confused and distraught, David let him, and…Kurt kissed him.

"I forgive you."

David just blinked.

Kurt spoke again, "I saw my bag in the corner. And my clothes. I'm gonna get dressed."

"I…I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm –"

Kurt shushed him. "I'll meet you at your car."

So David obeyed and left the shack. Kurt watched from the doorway until the jock had closed the door to his car, then walked to his bag and the pile of clothes beside it. After pulling on his briefs and jeans, he pulled a cellphone from the outside pocket of his bag and turned it on. Scrolling through his contacts, he made a call. It rang only once before it was answered.

"Hey."

"Hey." Kurt repeated.

"Did it work?"

"Yeah. He said it."

"So he loves you. Nice."

Kurt smiled. "And he's a good friend, too. He didn't rat anyone out."

"Seriously? Major points."

"He's driving me home."

"Figured. I'll let you go so you two can make out."

They laughed together.

"And hey, Kurt…don't tell him the truth, about what I did…seriously, ever. I mean, strapping you to a table after you stuck whatever it was up your- "

Kurt interrupted him. "Okay. Won't mention it."

"Right." There was a pause.

"Hey, Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

THE END.