Story: Curious

Fandom: Glee

Author: ibshafer

Rating: NC-17

Character/Pairing: Kurt/Finn (Yes, you read that right…)

Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.

Summary: Finn might be uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean he's not curious…

Warnings: sexual situations

A/N: An homage to the Best Ever Pale Gay Boy, Justin Taylor and the Best Ever Gay Show, Queer As Folk [and no, I haven't forgotten the very very disturbing aftermath of that other inspirational scene, but for this one moment, I just want to revel in the curiosity of two boys for the unknown…]

A/N #2: Was looking over my ffn fic list and realized this one (and a Kurtofsky version) never got posted for some reason. This was the first Glee fic I ever wrote, back during the first season; when Kurt's crush on Finn was in full swing… Hope you enjoy! ~ibs

Curious

~ ibshafer

Afterwards, Finn wouldn't be able to say if it was malfunctioning gaydar, the kind that should act like a truck's backup warning sensor to let you know when, say, you're about to put on a shirt that's too pink for a straight guy to get away with or…that you've just crossed a line it's sort of hard to uncross and you're in danger of having a homosexual encounter.

No, he couldn't say if it was the gaydar or that deep deep down inside, past his tangled feelings of love for Quinn and lust for Rachel, he wasn't just sort of, well, curious what it might be like to, you know, be touched by another…um, guy.

Not Puck. Definitely not Puck. That'd be too much of a flag-waving contest. (Besides, he'd been showering with Puck since before either of them had pubes, and that…that thing was a monster…)

But had he thought about Kurt before?

Had he? So pale. So girly. So clearly into him?

He wouldn't have thought so, that he was curious, but don't you think if he hadn't thought about it, he'd at least not have been stupid enough to put himself in the position he had just found himself in?

Locked in the equipment cage after hours.

With Kurt.

Seriously, why didn't he see it coming? Why didn't some bell or foghorn or something go off in his head?

Why?

Wasn't the answer obvious?

Because he was curious…

[-section break-]

Really, he couldn't have planned it better if he'd…well, if he'd planned it.

Offering to help put the equipment away after practice had just been an excuse to spend some unsupervised quality time with Finn, away from the cavemen, away from Quinn and Rachel, away from everyone.

He'd had no expectations from the activity beyond proving to Finn he wasn't radioactive or after his bones, but when he'd innocently pulled the cage door closed behind them, while the keys were sitting (un)helpfully on the desk outside, well, you could have knocked both he and Finn over with a feather.

Finn's eyes had flown wide open, white showing all around, and his pale face flushed a very appealing shade of rose. (Pink was Finn's color.) He'd begun to stammer, that the cage locked itself, that they didn't have the keys, that Coach Tanaka and the rest of the team were probably already gone, but Kurt was having a very hard time disguising how very not upset he was. Ever the consummate performer, he wiped the joy from his face, and feigned the appropriate level of distress.

Best not to scare Finn now.

This could go either way and though Finn had always been respectful of the underdog, namely Kurt, and patently non-violent despite his devotion to that chest-thumping-gorilla sport, football, he was still bigger than Kurt by a lot, and if pushed, this could end very, very, very badly for…well, Kurt's face. (Anything else he could cover with clothing or pancake…)

And so he'd willed himself to flush in embarrassment, to join Finn's frantic cries for help, to make a half-hearted (though brilliantly acted) attempt to phone someone on his cell. (But, damn, if all that concrete didn't choke out the signal!) And in the end, after gear and balls had been neatly stowed (and helpfully reorganized, too, btw), he'd echoed Finn's sigh of exasperation and apologized profusely for being stupid enough to close the door in the first place. (He couldn't think why he'd done it. Maybe his hand had a mind of its own?) And then, after studying the floor for a fat minute and having a long, stern inner talk with himself about seizing found opportunities, no matter how much your couture cost, he'd thrown himself down on the cold, filthy, concrete floor.

Next to Finn.

Kurt sat still, breathing deeply in the silence, soaking up Finn's scent, a heady mix of Lifeboy and…well, boy, and thought he might have to resort to talking about puppies and flowers and ice cream to keep his mind off the big, warm body sitting just four feet away from him. He'd never noticed it before, but Finn left his mouth open a little when he was thinking and the sound of his breathing, combined with the smell of him, was threatening to make Kurt's toes curl right out of his Ferragamo's.

Kurt rarely came to practice now, but when he did, he was always careful not to shower with the other boys afterwards. For one, they would have tormented him mercilessly, but for two, he doubted he could stand to be that near them – all wet and naked – and not…give them the display they were simultaneously expecting and afraid of.

Not that it wouldn't have been an all-out fantasy and not that it wouldn't, even with a beating and a dumpster dumping, been worth it, but he just didn't see the need to make himself that vulnerable in front of them. They knew he was gay and that was bad enough, but for them to see the affect they would no doubt have on him, would have been humiliating and painful – emotionally and, very probably, physically.

But there were no other boys here now, no one else to object or torment, and trapped in, well, trapped in a cage for who knew how long, how could the topic not eventually…arise?

It's not like they had all that much to talk about. Sweet as he was, Finn wasn't the deepest tool in the shed, or however that cliché ran.

Kurt was a patient boy; he'd honed his pining, time-biding skills over years of unrequited, one-sided crushes.

At some point, the sun would go down, the room would get dark – the light switch, like the keys, was also outside the cage – and there would be, for lack of any other way to describe it, mood.

Until then, he would wait.

Kurt may not have taken showers with the boys, but he hadn't been above spying…

Which was another way of saying he knew without any doubt that it would be well, and I do mean well, worth the wait.

[-section break-]

For a while, the conversation ran on momentum…

They talked about their current situation – it was clear they were here until the night-shift janitor came through. They talked about the football team's performance – improved, but still pretty dismal. They even talked about skin care and spring lines. Well, mostly Kurt did. Finn listened, to be polite, and tried not to doze off, managing to nod every now and then like he was filing the info away, but mostly he was just fighting to stay awake and to not let himself get all confused by the breathy, high-pitched timbre of Kurt's voice.

They talked about glee, about upcoming sectionals, about what came next, about summer break, about…

And there abouts they ran out of Things In Common to talk about.

And the elephant in the room wasn't going anywhere.

At least, not until someone came to let them out of the equipment cage.

And so he'd asked Kurt…the Question, the one he'd been trying unsuccessfully not to think about since they'd gotten locked in the cage, though if we were being honest, he'd have to admit he'd been thinking about it a lot longer than that.

Kurt was taken aback, but only for a moment, then he answered easily, saying that yes, it was true and that he'd known since he was a boy, that there'd probably never been a time when he hadn't known, and that no matter what anyone said or did to him, he would never be ashamed of it. It wasn't a disease and it wasn't a decision; it was just who he was.

He'd seemed defiant and strong when he'd said that and Finn felt bad, knowing he, like the others, had probably contributed to that feeling, given him reason to feel he had to be defiant. Really, though, he'd always felt badly for the kid. It had never seemed fair the way the other guys ganged up on Kurt and if he hadn't been so worried about them ganging up on him, too, he might have tried to put a stop to it.

Finn apologized, for not stopping the team when they'd hassle Kurt, and Kurt said he wasn't angry, that Finn had done what he could when he could, and that this wasn't Finn's fight to fight.

He'd caught Finn's eye after he'd said that and Finn hadn't been able to look away; Kurt was looking at him intently, seriously, wistfully, and though the look had always creeped him out, and to some degree it still did, it also made him feel funny in the pit of his stomach, like the funny feeling he sometimes got when he looked at Rachel. And when she was looking at him. Like he was very important to her.

And also, like she wanted him for lunch…

So maybe he could forgive himself for getting all mixed up just then, confusing one feeling for the other, and even though he should have looked away, should have moved away, should have done something, instead he just sat there, his eyes fixed on Kurt's, and he could feel all the blood rushing to his cheeks, all except a portion of it that was heading in the opposite direction…

He began to squirm a little from his spot on the floor and when Kurt started a new subject abruptly, he felt his whole body relax, unaware that he'd been tensed like that, like he was on the football field bracing himself for the impact of an impending tackle.

So, yes, it was a relief when Kurt changed the subject, a relief, but an odd choice it seemed; of all things, he asked about the girls.

The way he'd said it, 'girls' – plural, it was clear that Kurt had been paying very close attention to what was going on, to him, and maybe he should have bit his tongue, not said a word, but he found himself telling Kurt everything, about both of them; how he felt about Quinn, how he felt himself drawn to Rachel even though he knew it was wrong, about how there were times that he just didn't know himself anymore. How can you have feelings like that for two different girls at once?

Maybe it was because Kurt was such a good listener, and maybe it was his gaydar trying to redeem itself by parading Finn's hetero conquests and concerns before the kid, but something compelled Finn to just keep going; he told him about more than just the surface stuff – he told him…he told him about his little…problem.

It might just have been that the light was fading and so he couldn't see all that well, but it didn't seem to faze Kurt at all. He raised an eyebrow, sort of did that too-smart-for-his-own-good half-smile, then reached over and patted Finn's shoulder in sympathy.

And then he asked if Finn trusted him and in light of all that Finn had just shared, which in a way was a show of trust itself (he certainly wouldn't have told Puck all that), how could he say 'no?'

Kurt smiled and said he thought he could help him, and then his cheeks started to color, color brightly enough to be seen in the half light.

And Finn, well, Finn was a simple boy, a trusting boy, a naïve boy and maybe he just thought Kurt would have some suggestions for him.

Then again, maybe he didn't.

But whichever it was, he didn't flinch when Kurt moved over from the other side of the cage to sit next to him.

And with that same smile frozen on his face, he also didn't flinch when Kurt put a pale hand on Finn's leg.

[-section break-]

It took everything he had to keep from throwing himself into Finn's lap right then and there, but he knew that was the quickest way to a broken nose. And so he smiled his most reassuring smile, and though he desperately, desperately wanted to kiss those confused, somewhat stunned lips, he held himself in check.

If he could convince the both of them that what he was about to do was in an effort to help Finn, he might walk out of here one very happy – un-bruised – gay boy.

He knew damn well the boy would never be able to fall in love with him, and Finn was too straight and narrow for a purely sexual relationship with him either, Kurt knew this might be his one and only chance. (Though the thought hadbriefly crossed his mind that if his…audition were good enough, there might be a repeat performance in his future…)

Finally the confusion in Finn's eyes cleared and Kurt, trying his best not to look predatory, smiling sympathetically, matter-of-factly described the concept and the method, the technique, of what he was about to do, emphasizing its purpose which was to teach Finn ways to delay the…untimely and premature conclusion of what could be a much more satisfying act if prolonged, both for Finn and…whichever partner he chose.

Finn's eyes were a little glazed over at this point, but from the growing mound in his jeans and the half-smile that was slowly replacing the "O" of his fading confusion, he was clearly, at least, not repulsed. And obviously, not about to punch him.

Kurt felt himself glazing over for a minute there, too; from the proximity – he was about to touch, to taste, what he had barely dared dream of – but also from the humbling reminder, delivered by his sanity, that he'd never actually done this before.

Oh, he'd seen it plenty, visualized it more, and had read a good bit on this and other similar subjects. He had, in fact, for no reason other than he thought it might be useful some day, read up on just this very dilemma and while his conscience chimed in with the nagging edict that Finn could just as easily, perhaps even more successfully, be helped by suggestions as he would be by a hands-on demonstration, there was only so much a healthy, untested, smitten gay boy could stand. Not when the object of his affection was nearly bared before him, so closely in reach.

And so, smiling serenely up into Finn's still slightly stunned eyes, Kurt nodded once, patted Finn's leg again to be reassuring, and willing his fingers not to shake, pulled the zipper of Finn's jeans down.

[-section break-]

His heart was beating so fast he was surprised he wasn't seeing his t-shirt moving in and out.

Kurt had just pulled down his zipper and slipped his hand into…into Finn's briefs. He swallowed hard at the feeling of warm fingers closing around him (Quinn had never touched him that way before!) and then had a moment of panic as he struggled in vain to recall the startled look on the face of the doomed mailman as he hurtled onto Finn's windshield.

It took him a second to realize that Kurt had stopped after pulling him from his shorts, removed his hand entirely, and was looking up at him, eyebrows raised in a waiting gesture, as though he knew what was happening – because he did know what was happening – and waiting was the thing that helped.

Amazed at what he was allowing another guy to do to him, at the fact that against all odds he hadn't lost it at that first touch (his first touch there by someone who wasn't himself…or his doctor that one time when he couldn't pee), amazed at how incredible it had felt, even for that brief half-moment; so amazed he just couldn't be bothered with the bells and whistles and alarms going off in his head.

And so he just looked at Kurt sitting there, waiting patiently at his feet, and though he knew he should have slugged him, or pushed him off, or at least picked up a hockey stick or something, he didn't. Instead, he just stared at the kid in utter dumbfounded amazement.

Kurt smiled and raised his eyebrow again and Finn felt himself nodding, giving him the okay to continue.

And this time, Kurt got a little farther, his fingers circling him, stroking him once, hard, and before Finn could even gasp, Kurt had withdrawn again. Another smile, this time in real sympathy, color high in his cheeks, and Finn found himself fighting the urge to touch those cheeks, feeling instinctively that was what someone would do in this situation, but by no means comfortable with the idea, he merely smiled, which raised still more color in Kurt's cheeks.

They continued this way for longer than Finn would have thought possible and while on some level he knew he should have shoved the boy away, he was both utterly elated – that he hadn't lost it yet, this was way past his usual limit – and, well, completely aroused.

He'd never gotten this far with Quinn, partly because of her chastity vow and partly because, he never…well, he never lasted this long.

But here he was, getting a hand-job (He was getting his first hand-job!), and though he almost lost it more than twice, he didn't, and the pleasure was building in a way he'd never felt before, to a level he'd never even gotten himself to.

And so he sat there with what he was sure was a stupid expression on his face, watching in fascination as Kurt's small, pale, hot hands did things to him he didn't know were possible and Finn was many things right then and there, but 'turned on!' and 'grateful' were fighting for the top spot. And he didn't even know he'd done it until he was feeling Kurt's soft, soft hair between his fingers, but there he was, touching Kurt back, and Kurt looked up at him, his expression also carrying a mixture of 'turned on!' and 'grateful,' and as if to some unspoken signal, maybe something on Finn's face, he leaned the few inches that separated them, opened his mouth wide, and took Finn inside…

[-section break-]

If he lived to be one hundred, nothing would compare to that first moment of real bliss.

He'd been happy enough to have his hands on Finn's cock, it was more than he'd ever thought he'd be allowed, but the taste of it, the feel of its heat, how his tongue cradled it as it filled his mouth, would be a sensation he would take to his grave. (He was giving his first blow job!) He was brought back to reality by the feeling of Finn squirming beneath his palms, and he pulled off, resting just the tip of his tongue on his shaft, waiting. A moment passed, a moment in which his nostrils filled with the heady scent of Finn's musk and he thought he might just be in danger of some pre-maturity himself, and then Finn's fingers in his scalp signaled the "all clear" and with a lick from base to tip – Finn answered with a throaty gasp – he slipped him back into his mouth.

While it was true that he'd never done this before and his research had only described the techniques involved – techniques he'd naturally memorized – it was his imagination that had prepared him most for this very moment. He was elated that his theories and strategies – how he would touch Finn, how he would draw him in and hold him there – had been more than mere fantasy material; they'd given him a roadmap, a script; like rehearsing a scene at home before the real performance.

And perform he did.

He approached it the way he did any other performance, with focus and passion and, dare he say it (he dared! he dared!), with real glee.

Finn in the flesh was so much better than Finn in the fantasy. He was warm and soft in places, hot and so, so hard in others. Kurt hadn't imagined the barely perceptible way Finn's leg would be jittering, like it wanted to tap dance or fly or something and Finn was struggling to keep it reigned in. (What would he do if he lost it – that control?) He also hadn't factored in the noises Finn would be making; tiny little gasps when Kurt's tongue traced the edges of his head, helpless moans when he drew first one, then the other sac into his mouth.

Kurt kept one eye and one ear out for signs of impending combustion, but Finn seemed to have gotten a handle on his timing issues. This realization was very gratifying indeed. He'd helped Finn. He'd given him something he'd never had before.

But he'd given himself so much more.

And though his hand had strayed to his own lap once or twice, he'd refrained from going any further. Maintaining an air of selflessness might pave the way to a repeat engagement. Right now, Finn was enjoying himself, but he was probably too focused on the experience itself to remember he was having a gay one. Were Kurt to add his own…pleasure to the moment, were he to expose himself now, Finn might not be able to handle it.

Getting his face rearranged might not be off the books just yet.

And so be banished all thoughts of a more mutual encounter, tried not to think about how tight his grey pinstriped Marc Jacobs dress pants were getting, and poured himself into giving Finn exactly what he needed.

It wasn't long before the jittering leg began to feel more like Finn was preparing for take off. Kurt ventured a look up at Finn's face – his ruddy cheeks were flushed a deep rose and his head was lolling back on his broad shoulders. Breath ragged, eyebrows pinched in a way that clearly signaled impending release, he was a study in young male lust, absorbed in his own pleasure, pleasure that he, Kurt, was giving him.

If he could have done it without disrupting the vision before him, he'd have fished out his iPhone and to capture the moment.

Instead, he pulled Finn more deeply into his mouth, pleased when the tip of his nose met course hair and soft skin (and doubly pleased at the sound Finn made when he did), and seeing no reason to hold back any longer, he slipped both hands behind Finn, cupping his ass cheeks, pressing him still closer, hoping Finn hadn't heard his own moan at the sensation, and with a helpless cry that Kurt felt as well as heard, Finn was coming hard, his whole body spasming now, hands at the back of Kurt's head, fingers deep in his hair.

Pulling off so he could watch Finn's face as he came, one hand jacking him slowly as Finn rode out his last wave, Kurt was distantly aware that he'd somehow come as well, without even touching himself, and though he fretted for the safety of his new trousers, he was far more interested in watching Finn's face.

So beautiful.

Finn was all boy - all man - and for that moment, anyway, all his.

He was elated.

He'd done it.

He'd had sex with a boy.

And not just any boy.

He'd had sex with Finn Hudson.

Okay, maybe it wasn't the full monty, as it were, only a blow job and not even a mutual one – he was still, technically, a virgin – but it was sex all the same.

Kurt was proud of himself. He'd handled the whole encounter well, better than he could have if he'd planned it this way and he'd helped someone he really cared for with a very serious problem, in the process giving them both some measure of happiness.

There was no time for laurel resting, though, because Finn had regained enough of his breath and his composure, to once again be aware of Kurt.

Or rather, he was aware of Kurt's hand, still wrapped somewhat firmly around his waning manhood.

His eyes were now glued to that hand, as if seeing it for the first time, as if he'd just tuned in – or just woken up – and found Kurt molesting him.

This might have been a good time to run – if the cage door weren't still locked.

[-section break-]

His blood was still roaring in his ears and the aftershocks were making his legs do spazzy things every so often, but as sated as he was, there could be no mistaking the feeling of a hand wrapped around his cock.

A long, pale, boy hand.

He'd had no delusions about what was happening, as it was happening, it had just felt so good, and he was so happy to be feeling it, all of it, that he just hadn't cared.

But now, on the flip side, what did he think?

Was he gay now? Was that possible? After one…after this one thing?

He hadn't been unwilling. Not really. And he hadn't been oblivious, either. He knew who was touching him. Shit, he'd touched him back – he still had the feel of Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair between his fingers; no one had forced him to do that.

Maybe it was all just in the heat of his need – the need to get more of that feeling, to get it closer, get it harder…

Shit!

Poor choice of words…

Kurt knew the same time he did; he saw one eyebrow raise up, smile lifting at one corner as he looked up to meet Finn's eyes, expectant.

Damn his short reload time…

Squirming on the concrete, legs starting to shiver a little, Finn knew he was doomed.

He also knew that for the moment, he didn't care.

At this point, what difference did once more make?

He hadn't forsaken anyone or anything; he was just succumbing to a heretofore unsatisfied need. Who could blame him for that?

It'd be different if Kurt were a bad guy or something, like if he'd been putting the moves on him. Or whatever.

And yeah, afterwards Finn was probably going to feel badly for using him, but it wasn't like this was ever going to happen again, right?

He cut a glance to his fully-revived erection – which would have been hard to miss even if Kurt weren't still…attached to it.

"…um, K-kurt, this doesn't mean…"

"I don't care," came Kurt's husky-voiced response three seconds before engulfing him again.

Finn threw his head back with an enthusiastic moan and gave not a second's thought to anything – not doomed mailmen, not the girls and most certainly not to what this…this could mean.

For the moment, he didn't care either…