A/N: …. O.O

Okay, I’ve officially bumped this story to a Mature rating….

Holy shit….

I’ve written actual smut….. true-blue, honest-to-God smut….. HOLY GRILLED CHEESUS ON A STICK!!!

WARNING!!! Described: solo masturbation both male and female (mostly female), and masturbation with a foreign object. Yes, it is graphic, but not filthy or disgusting…..hopefully.

DON’T LIKE IT, CLICK THE BACK BUTTON NOW!!! FINAL WARNING!!!

Also, I didn’t include Blaine in this because I tried a different second chapter than this, but it failed miserably. I just couldn’t make it work right. However! I give you this promise, the next chapter will have Blaine in it, as well as Kurt/Burt interactions as well.

So, be satisfied with the very first full-on smut!!!

P.S. Pay attention to the dates!!! I made sure they were accurate!!!

March 5, 2011

It was two am on a Saturday morning and the air of the house was still and quiet, hushed in the earliest hours of the day. Every window was darkened, the doors locked tight, and every resident tucked away into their beds, their rooms draped in shadow. The wooden beams and joists had settled hours ago, the slight groaning as the house relaxed after a long day of just plain living, the activity of the humans within finally slowing as the sun dropped from the sky.

Carole and Burt rested quietly in their shared bed, with Burt snoring lazily as Carole shuffled into his shoulder in her sleep, tucking the covers up under her chin. Down the hall, Finn was sprawled across his mattress, every appendage askew until he resembled a long-limbed starfish, his own snoring ragged and deep. His blanket shifted with every noisy exhalation, inching further and further off his body until it inevitably found its way to the floor to be found in the morning.

One more door down from Finn’s lay Kurt’s tidy sanctuary. His door closed firmly to block out Finn’s incessant snoring. Within, Kurt’s walls were decorated in a tasteful blue-gray with white trimming, the colors reflected in the curtains on his windows, rising gracefully with the mild spring breeze from the small crack above the window sill. His white shelves, filled with his most sentimental belongings, photos of him with his friends, with his father and new family, with his mother, perfectly placed in their assigned spots to better accentuate the stylized feng shui that Kurt created in his space. The posters and photos that adorned the pale walls were obscured from view, hidden away from the meager light that filtered from the outside street lamp and moonlight. The bed, wide and covered with a blanket the color of doves, stood in the middle of it all.

But unlike the muted quiet that filled the rest of the house, the air inside Kurt’s room was broken by light, heated pants. Small, desperate whimpers followed, their pitch high and needy as the figure on the bed twisted and jerked from side to side. One pale arm emerged from the rounded cocoon, flying over to grab the fabric in a tight grip before abruptly releasing over and over. The pants grew heavier as covered legs kicked and writhed, serpentine shapes that roamed the bed’s surface. A deep moan pierced the atmosphere, a sharp gasp and sudden jerk of the occupant’s body ended with one Kurt Hummel shooting up in his bed, startled, half-conscious, and unbelievably horny.

Groaning in frustration as he muddled his way back to consciousness, Kurt glanced down at his lap and cursed the heated bulge he found hiding in his loose boxers. His dick, as hard as any rock, pulsed within the confines of his cotton underwear, tenting the light blue fabric. With every breath Kurt took, his cock rubbed along the cotton and the seams, the friction both pleasurable and painful all at once on his heated skin. But it wasn’t just his cock that was complaining, the internal ache and hunger of his pussy was just as powerful. It felt like his clit had its own heartbeat, throbbing intensely beneath his cock. And as if he needed any more evidence that his body was going out of control with desire, the moist humidity of his shorts told him that his pussy was sopping wet as well, the folds engorged and slick with his own fluids.

Slumping back into the pillows with a soft thump, Kurt groaned in his sexual frustration and need, harshly scrubbing his tired eyes with his hands. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember most of the dream he had been having, the shapes too blurry and distorted to make any sense of who his dream lover could have been. All Kurt could remember were hands, wide and tan and slightly roughened with calluses as they passed over his flushed skin, tracing his trembling muscles and limbs until Kurt was gasping for air.

However, the culmination of the dream hadn’t been the interesting foreplay, as those hands thoroughly explored his torso and back, with their owner’s face still obscured in the dark of his mind, but when they had ventured south without any hesitation. Now Kurt could tell that his Dream self was aware of his condition, obviously as he recalled rubbing his legs together to soothe that particular ache while still in the dream, but the situation his other self found himself in kinda blew his mind. Not only was his Dream self unafraid of what his fantasy lover might find down there, but he practically begged to be touched there!

And those hands had done just that. It was only when the very tips of those warm, textured fingers had dipped into his gushing folds to touch his engorged clit that Kurt had jolted awake, immeasurably turned on by his mind’s imagined sensations and the simultaneously present arousal.

Huffing at the circumstances he was in, Kurt sighed and closed his eyes and attempted to will away his erection. He tried to picture what he normally did whenever his body rebelled like this, such as tacky 70’s clothing with their horrid polyblends and spandex, his Dad dancing to Single Ladies (which ended up more funny than boner-killing), even Sue Sylvester in one of her own Cheerio uniforms. But no matter what he started with, somehow his mind kept drifting back to those hands as they traveled all over him, touching him in places that no one else had ever seen, much less touched, before. After roughly ten minutes of trying to soften his dick mentally, Kurt gave up. I guess he was going to have to do this the physical way then.

Shuffling off his comforter, Kurt peeled off his boxers and laid them to the side. He shivered as his skin erupted in goosebumps at the cool air hitting his warm flesh. Trembling slightly, Kurt settled himself against his pillows and closed his eyes. Calling up the tantalizing images of his dream, Kurt moaned under his breath as another spike of arousal hit his groin, a sharpness blooming inside his abdomen. Still keeping his eyes closed, Kurt kept his breathing as steady as possible as he began to slowly skim his fingertips over his skin, imitating what his mind remembered. In his mind’s eye, he saw those same tanned fingers drift over him, felt the light scratch of nail as they trailed over his chest, circling his nipples with tender, whispering touches. As they perked and beaded, one lone fingertip commandeered the very tip of his right nipple, swiveling it back and forth like an old-school video game joystick. Kurt gasped as he fidgeted against the sensations.

Moving on from there, his other hand palmed his pectoral and glided downward to his stomach, tracing the faint outlines of his abdominal muscles, not stopping until each one was outlined and shaking, twitching underneath his pale skin. Still tweaking his nipple, Kurt allowed the other hand to keep traveling until it skated along the deep grooves of his hips, brushing the sensitive flesh inwards until it reached the valley, tangling and rubbing against the meager, trimmed chestnut hair to be found there.

With tentative fingers, Kurt allowed his hand to lightly dance along his erection, the firm shaft standing tall at an impressive six and a half inches (impressive for his condition, that is), feeling the pulsing veins that ran up and down the appendage. It physically jumped at the attention, the skin flushing an even darker pink. The head began to dribble clear drops of pre-cum, pooling in his slit before rolling down the sides, providing an interesting lubrication that his fingertips took great care in spreading all around himself. Kurt whimpered in the back of his throat at the sudden change in temperatures this action caused, how the hot, dry skin differed from the cooling, wet skin from the small breeze floating around the room. Finally deciding to end the torture, Kurt grasped his erection firmly, his palm covering most of the shaft completely as he began to slowly stroke himself. Kurt’s pants and whines, still quiet enough to keep the rest of the house oblivious to his naughty, night-time deeds, came faster and faster as he kept rubbing his cock, twisting every two strokes to keep his arousal on the edge.

But still, that internal ache wasn’t satisfied. His pussy was still wet and waiting, his clit practically crying for some relief of its own.

Even within his fantasy, Kurt couldn’t ignore his other parts for very long. Naturally, rubbing one out with his dick like any normal boy would work for the short-term for Kurt, an orgasm by any other name would still release his tension. But as obvious as it was, Kurt was still different than all the other normal boys. Because of his condition, Kurt’s penis was smaller than other males, although his 6.5 inches was definitely pushing the scale towards being overly-endowed compared to what physicians and medical textbooks said he could look forward to when he hit puberty. Still, knowing that he still lacked in that area made Kurt uneasy and slightly ashamed when it came to masturbation. However, when he attempted vaginal orgasms as an alternative, he found that they could be even more satisfying than he ever anticipated. 

Teasing himself, Kurt ran both hands down his chest and sides, one side having finished loving on his now-hard nipples while the other left trails of pre-cum all along his ribcage. They met each other at the junction of Kurt’s groin, finding each other underneath his cock where his slit began. No need to worry about his balls as they weren’t apart of his external physical body. Dancing his fingers over his swollen labia, Kurt shivered at the drastic change in humidity, the heat that poured off his pussy nearly tangible in the cool morning air of his bedroom. Using both hands to part his outer lips, Kurt moaned as his inner lips parted and stretched, as if waiting for something to sate its hunger. With one lone finger, Kurt quickly found his clit.

Kurt cried out weakly, his body jolting as his index finger pressed down on the hard bud, the nerve endings within sparking and firing. He tossed his head around his pillow, his auburn hair splaying across the pillowcase and his own flushed forehead, as he increased the pressure, savagely growling in his throat as his started to circle the top of it, massaging the sides before returning to smoothing the pad over the top again. It became a vicious, insatiable cycle. He kept rubbing, changing direction or speed to fit his fanciful dream, his blown out eyes still closed in determination to keep his imaginary lover still there, still loving him despite his differences. Kurt couldn’t keep breath in his lungs, he was breathing too fast to keep any semblance of control over himself. He was almost becoming high off the oxygen deprivation to his brain, the minor pain in his chest only heightening the fervor as he masturbated.

But God damn it, that ache was still there!

He had been touching himself for what seemed like hours now, but his body just wouldn’t get to where he wanted it to be! He could feel the tide inside him growing, almost cresting and giving him that delicious release he had been craving all night, but each time he fell backwards, just short of the finish line. Cursing in frustration into the still darkness, Kurt had to step up his little game if he was going to find any pleasure tonight. Taking a finger from his other hand, Kurt led it to his pulsating opening and pushed in.

Oh fuck, yes! That’s what he had been wanting! That irreplaceable feeling of something inside you, filling you and stretching you, claiming you like nothing else, that’s what he wanted, what his body was telling him it wanted. Pushing the finger further, he was able to feel his own walls tighten and widen around him, the smooth slickness no matter where his finger went was becoming intoxicating to Kurt. The higher temperature of his body felt scalding to him, so markedly distinct from anything else, surrounded his finger the further he went in, only to be stopped by his own hand hitting his outer lips. Whining and whimpering, Kurt wanted to go further, to soothe that deep throbbing but his own physical limitations kept him from it. He tried to thrust his one finger in even more before giving up and trying a second finger as well. Kurt mouth watered as the stretch became more intense, the grip around his two fingers squeezing them together. He could practically feel how close his fingers were to where he wanted them, where he could feel the tips of his fingers and where that burning need was were so close, but still so far apart.

Fuck, he needed more. He needed something longer than his fingers.

Half insane with arousal, small cries forcing their way past his red, bitten lips where he at least tried to keep his noises quiet, Kurt finally opened his hazy, glasz eyes to his shadowed bedroom, darting frantically around the room in search of something, anything to fuck himself with. His desperation was riding high as he kept searching in the gloom, not finding anything remotely sufficient to aid him until he reached his vanity. There, lying on the table’s surface next to his skincare bottles and lotions, was an older, round navy hairbrush, the handle long and smooth and abso-fucking-lutely perfect.

Scrambling off his bed, catching the corner of his blanket and almost dragging it off the side, Kurt stumbled over to his vanity to grab the brush. Holding it in his hands, feeling the smooth cylinder firm and hard on his palm, the length a suitable six inches and only one inch wide, Kurt shivered as he imagined how full he would feel with this inside his starving pussy. Hurrying back to his bed, Kurt sprawled himself down on the sheet, no longer caring that his blanket was half-hanging off the side or that the pillows were in shambles. He had better things to worry about.

Holding the spiny, bristled top in his hand, the small plastic ends digging into his palm to add to the overwhelming physical stimulation, Kurt allowed the smooth rounded end of the handle to tease his outer lips, gliding up and down each side before running it across his inner lips, gasping harshly at the alien sensation of something else other than himself touching his most intimate parts. He kept this up for a few moments, buying time to try to steady his breathing and his pounding heart. Moving the handle inward, his trailed it over his inner lips, feeling his clit clench as he put his finger back on it, rubbing in small, light circles. To prepare his new-found toy, his uprighted it against his sopping pussy, doing what he could to coat the plastic handle with his own juices to ease entry later. His hips responded with enthusiasm, involuntarily thrusting up against the brush, nearly riding the thing as he kept moving it up and down against his sensitive labia.

Kurt moaned deeply, his mouth dropping open at the sensations he was experiencing. He was getting just enough friction to slowly start driving him towards his peak, the rubbing growing more frantic as his hips bounced on his mattress, but he still craved more. With a weakened whimper, Kurt forced his hips to stop their fun and return to the bed, turning the handle in his hand to the horizontal, pointing straight at his opening. Pressing ever so slightly against his hole, Kurt panted in anticipation.

As the tip of the handle entered him, Kurt was forced to bit his lip hard to keep from crying out loud enough to wake the rest of the house. Even though it was only an inch wide, the stretch still caught Kurt by surprise, his virgin walls trying to accommodate the firm, unrelenting hardness that was trying to gain entry to his body. He winced as he felt a small, sharp pain come from his pussy, not enough to make him stop, but enough to make him slow his progress. With only one inch inside, Kurt stopped to catch his breath, every inhale reverberating throughout his body down to his core where his walls tried to tighten only to be stopped by the handle. He knew, even through the sexual haze in his head, that to force it in now would be far too painful to deal with, and would undoubtedly hurt him if he attempted it. The best way to continue would be to keep it slow and steady.

After a few minutes, Kurt took a deep breath and started pushing again. The give was a bit easier now, as his slick walls had widened enough to take it, and within moments the handle was all the way inside. Feeling the rounded handle hit the end of his pussy, Kurt gasped harshly at the feeling. Tiny exhalations of incoherent noise escaped his throat, high-pitched whines, as he basked in the waves of sensations, how he could feel every part of the brush handle pressing back against his pussy walls, how his opening had widened far more than he had ever felt before, and even how it seemed his hips had adjusted, too.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Kurt actually began to lose control of himself after that. His hips wiggled in desperation, causing the handle inside of him to shift around, hitting sensitive spots that Kurt didn’t even know he had. The moans spilling out of him only increased when he gripped the brush tighter and started to move it. Feeling the tight glide of the handle as he pulled it almost all the way out, Kurt shuddered at the sense of emptiness it left behind. Determined to not feel that way for any longer than necessary, Kurt shoved the “toy” back in, grunting as it hit home.

What followed could only be described as Kurt finally following his lesser, male instincts. His upper consciousness shut down completely. All that was left was the base desire and raw hunger for his own orgasm. Barely even feeling how the bristles dug into his palm, leaving deep red pock marks in their wake, Kurt began to pound away at his pussy, the handle flying in and out of him at such a pace it became a dark blue blur. His juices started to overflow, squelching out the sides of his hole and running down the creases of his quivering thighs and ass. His cock, which had been practically abandoned up to this point, bounced and leaked pre-cum like a waterfall, his fluids soaking his already sweat-covered skin.

Kurt grunted and groaned, growled and whined like an animal in heat as his hips joined in again, bouncing and grinding against the handle, making each thrust in that much harder and deeper. Kurt’s head flew back, digging into his pillow at how he was essentially fucking himself senseless. His finger was dancing frantically over his swollen clit, the hyperactive bud metaphorically crying out for more and more and more. His mouth fell open, driven to take in more air than his heaving lungs could process. Glasz eyes, glazed over with passion and arousal, were slitted and staring off into space, no longer seeing the physical world, only envisioning his dream lover hovering over him, driving his sharp hips against his as his cock fucked him six ways from Saturday. Delirious murmurings for more, harder, yesyesyes just kept coming, meant for ears that didn’t exist.

Bending his knees in an attempt to help his enthusiastic hips, Kurt yelped at how the new position opened him up even more, aiding in driving the brush handle even deeper into his aching pussy. Kurt huffed into the dark, feeling each hit like an earthquake inside of him, sending ripples of tremors to every muscle and tendon, causing his pale toes to curl into the sheets beneath him. He could tell when his orgasm was approaching, the clenching of his pussy, his abdomen tightening, and that growing tide towards that “point of no return,” that one small moment when you started to fall off the edge, where your stomach drops and all you could feel was bliss.

Fuck, he needed to get to that point like yesterday.

It was a good thing that Kurt didn’t have much longer to wait. Thanks to his vivid fantasy and his ingenuity in getting himself off, Kurt was speeding towards his climax like a bullet train. Within seconds, Kurt could feel his abdominal muscles begin to tense in preparation, the sharp clenching of his insides were becoming harder and harder to control, repeating again and again as each hit came harder than the last. His body spasmed hard one time, jolting his eyes open to stare off into the dark, his pupils blown so wide they seemed nearly black. Kurt’s mouth fell completely open, exhausted formless cries tumbling out to compete with the rushing blood in his ears.

Fuck damn it! He needed to keep going!

His hand kept moving, pushing and pulling despite the forming tiredness and pain in his wrist. His finger that was punishing his clit was starting to cramp too, but fuck all if Kurt was going to stop now. He was so close! His back arched obscenely at one sharp hit to his G-spot, a few tears spilling out of his unseeing eyes as his pleasure multiplied five times over. Fuck, just a few more!

Then all at once, Kurt snapped.

He didn’t even expect it. Didn’t even see it coming. Two more thrusts were all it took to throw Kurt right off the side and straight into his orgasm. His thighs and calves and abs all clenched tight, pulling Kurt’s body almost into a perfect c shape before they abruptly let loose, like a puppet’s strings once they’ve been cut. Only one sound permeated the humid silence of Kurt’s room, one pleading word that pierced the shadows.

“Blaine….”

Choking on his own air, Kurt fell back against the damp pillows, his body swarmed with incontrollable spasms and tremors to the point he nearly had a seizure, his toes digging grooves into the sheets as he continued to stroke and fuck himself through every pulse of spine-tingling bliss. Kurt’s head, hazy and unclear and oh so satisfied, fell back as he panted, his mouth wide open and dry with his fast-paced huffing. His stomach felt sore and fatigued, the minute shivers causing flare-ups every time they moved against his will.

His pussy clamped and squeezed like a vice around the brush handle, making it harder to fuck himself since his hole kept refusing to let it go, his juices overflowing until they soaked his thighs and through the sheets to the top of the mattress. His cock virtually exploded all over him, strings of white cum shooting out of him until they splashed all over his chest and neck, seven whole shots before they started to slow and flow out of him freely, swamping his groin with sticky, bitter fluid. One more gasp, one more spasm, one more jolt, and Kurt was done.

Collapsing onto the bed, his arms finally retreating from his throbbing pussy and sprawled beside him as his chest heaved and panted. Weak whimpers and groans from the intensity of his own climax filled Kurt’s mouth as he tried to wet his palate, his thudding heart still beating away like a ceremonial drum. Kurt still couldn’t hear well, not over his own rushing pulse, and his eyes had dimmed somewhat as he relaxed, waiting for his body to come back from the pleasure-induced numbness. The brush was still inside of him, still hard and firm against his tired pussy, and he knew that it had to be removed soon so he could sleep, but for now he let it be.

Taking a few seconds to simply float in the contentment of the moment, Kurt finally felt the haze begin to lift from him. His head was starting to clear, making thinking so much easier. His body had fully relaxed, regaining his fluid grace and maneuverability. And at last, his desire and frustration was gone, fucked out of him completely. Glancing over to the clock on his bedside table, Kurt saw it was around three am, still too early to be awake by any means. Deciding that now would be the best time to clean himself up, since he could already feel his cum drying on his chest, Kurt had reached down to pull the brush handle out of him when he remembered. 

Freezing in place, stone still in shock, Kurt remembered what he had said at the very moment of the most intense orgasm of his life.

He had said Blaine’s name.

Jerking out of his frozen state, Kurt nearly ripped the brush handle out of his pussy, not even paying attention to the aching soreness that came after it, and threw the brush to the floor as far from him as his could. His eyes were wide and terrified as he watched it land near his dresser, the one that still smelled like his dead mother. Curling away from it like it were a snake ready to strike, Kurt huddled onto his side, clutching himself to keep the realizations away, but it didn’t work.

The images kept flashing in his head, of the dream that had started everything, and when taking the time to review the small bits of flesh of his imaginary lover, especially the hands, Kurt let out a choked sob when he saw how the hands matched perfectly. They were the same hands, the ones that had caressed him so tenderly and sensually in his head were the same hands that always gesticulated wildly and excitedly whenever Blaine got onto a subject that truly interested him when they talked over coffee, the same callused fingers that he watched strum the strings on Blaine’s guitar as he practiced his own written songs, and the same tanned palms that liked to casually slip next to his own pale one whenever Blaine held hands with him in Dalton’s halls. Feeling warm tears fall down his face to seep into the pillow, Kurt felt bottomless wells of shame and disgust rise within him.

My god, how could he have done this? How had it reached this point? What was wrong with him?

It just wasn’t enough that all the times he had let himself fall too hard, too fast, he had gotten burned. Oh, no. It was so much worse now. So much worse.
He just had to go falling for his incredibly hot, intelligent, funny, kind gay best friend, the only guy that he could possibly see himself having a relationship with, the same guy that had friend-zoned him on Valentine’s Day and was only interested in other gay guys.

The same friend that would most likely run in terror if he knew the truth about Kurt, that he wasn’t a normal gay guy like he thought, that he was abnormal, unnatural…..monstrous.

Kurt couldn’t hold in the sobs anymore. Pulling his legs up against his still cum-covered chest, curling his arms around himself to keep his sanity together, and totally ignoring the soreness coming from his groin, Kurt cried his heart out.

This was wrong, all of it, wrong.

Clutching his hair and pulling, Kurt allowed the pain to come, hoping to punish himself in some small way for what his mind and body had done. He had let Blaine into his heart while ignoring the risks, he allowed Blaine’s form to enter his dreams where he was the most vulnerable, and now, he had used Blaine to masturbate to, as wanking material, hidden away in the darkness of his own room on a weekend home from school. He had desecrated Blaine’s place in his life and heart by using him in such a filthy way, to get himself off like some pubescent, hormone-ridden pre-teen.

And even worse than all of that, he had insinuated that Blaine would welcome his differences, that he would welcome the disfigured body that Kurt inhabited. Oh yeah, like any man would want the mismatched mess that Kurt was. He had stuff he shouldn’t while lacking what he should. He had to take artificial hormones to keep his body from flipping out and his development on track. He had to visit specialists that kept telling him that plastic surgery was always an option, like the only way he would ever be accepted is if he went under the knife, cutting himself up and scarring himself horribly just to look even slightly more normal.

And Blaine wondered why Kurt was so hesitant over talking about sex?!

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t do this to Blaine or himself. Blaine had already proven that he wanted someone in his life, but that someone wasn’t Kurt. He would much rather have anyone over Kurt, be it Gap guy or Rachel or anyone, Kurt wasn’t an option anymore. And for Kurt, the pain of being so unwanted was becoming too much. He already had to battle his feelings of self-worth when it came to his PAIS and how it affected his platonic relationships with others, but for Blaine to just waltz in and mess with his heart like that, to string him along until Kurt was sure that maybe, just maybe, it would finally work out all right, and then crush his feelings like a worthless cockroach was just too much to bear. 

Kurt lay there in the dark for 20 minutes, growing silent and still while his tears and cries gradually slowed to a stop. The wet tracks on his face began to dry before he moved again, causing his face to itch, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was his own shame and self-loathing, his own certainty that no one, not even the one he loved, would ever love him back the way he wanted.

As his mind circled around these dark thoughts, Kurt pulled himself up off his bed and stiffly walked to the dresser. Staring at the soiled hairbrush for just a moment, he bent down to pick it up and walked to his bathroom. Turning the water on to a small trickle, Kurt mechanically washed the brush clean before shoving it in the trash without a second thought, pushing it down far enough that it wouldn’t be noticed. Cleaning his hands, his torso, his thighs, and wetting an older cloth, Kurt returned to his bed, his face still blank and drawn.

Pulling off the blankets and pillows, Kurt stripped off the fluid-soaked sheets and proceeded to scrub the stain away from the mattress, using as much force as possible to dig the cloth into the quilted top to clean away all evidence of what had transpired, like if he scrubbed hard enough, it would erase the last hour and a half from history. Only when his arms began to protest his avid treatment did he let up. Tossing the sheets, the cloth, and his soiled boxers into his laundry hamper, Kurt pulled out his spare set of sheets from a storage tub underneath his bed and redressed the mattress. Only when every element of his bedding was back in its proper place did Kurt change into a new pair of boxer and slip back into bed.

Scooting away from the still-damp place in the middle, Kurt huddled underneath his covers and tried to go back to sleep. But with the way his mind was now whirling in his depression, low self-esteem, and regret, Kurt highly doubted that he would be getting any sleep that night, no matter how much he yearned for it. It’s just how life worked for Kurt.

Because if there was anything Kurt had learned in his 16 years on this planet, it was this.

Life was never fair.

I am honestly terrified about hearing feedback for this. I’m not kidding. I have never written smut like this, so I am scared out of my mind. I just can’t believe that this came out of my head, but oh God, did it pour out of me the last few days. It just wouldn’t stop until I wrote this one out completely.

But please, tell me what you think! On the smut and the angst! NEED FEEDBACK!!!

P.S. Just a sidenote, just in case anyone is wondering if Kurt took his own virginity and broke his hymen, let me just say that none of the research I've seen says that PAIS sufferers, should they possess a pseudovaginal opening, have hymens. The pain came from the stretching of the muscles, not tissue breaking. Kurt is still a virgin and that virginity belongs to Blaine.