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"I need your help, Dave."

Dave glanced up from the bed as Kurt barged, unannounced, into his hotel room. The drummer promptly performed a double-take. Kurt was holding his old and battered camcorder in his hands, and his eyes carried a mischievous glint that Dave knew well enough not to trust. He sat up.

"With what?" His voice was a little wary; he was used to Kurt's pranks. But the little blonde chose to say nothing for the moment, instead smiling sweetly at Dave. The drummer took a second glance at Kurt's camcorder, and noticed that the little red light on its surface was on.

For reasons he didn't know, Kurt was recording their conversation.

"I want to make a music video," Kurt said eventually in the way of explanation. Dave supposed his answer was innocent enough, but the way he said it made it sound anything but innocent. But hell, amended the drummer to himself, nothing Kurt says sounds innocent these days. Not a damn thing.

With this in mind, Dave found himself a little lost for words. "Oh... okay, then." His gaze shifted from Kurt's eyes down to the little red light blinking on the camcorder, and back up to Kurt's eyes again. " A music video for what?" He paused, and rethought his question. "And why on Earth are you recording right now, anyway?" The blonde singer chose to ignore the second question, choosing to focus his attention entirely on the first. His smile had widened to the point where it was beginning to look predatory, and Dave mistrusted that smile almost as much as the look in his eyes.

"Our record label's just asked me to pick a song out for our next music video." As he explained, Kurt busied himself in dragging a bedside cabinet out into the middle of the bedroom. He then set the camcorder down on top of it, leaving Dave to watch with growing confusion as he lined it up carefully. After a few more moments Kurt nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with the position, and moved away. Dave gulped uneasily. The camcorder was pointed directly at him.

He turned to Kurt, full of questions, but his gaze landed a little further south than he'd intended...

Oh my God

...and his eyes widened at what he saw forming cheerfully between the singer's legs. There's no way a man could get that *excited* about a stupid video... is there?

"Uh, Kurt?"

"Yes, Dave?" That sugary sweet smile was still plastered on his lips, and this time, it gave Dave chills. One look at that smile, and the question he really wanted to ask Kurt died pitifully in his throat, without a word of protest. So the flustered drummer didn't ask that question. He decided to play it safe.

"W-when-" He cleared his throat noisily. "When you say we have to do a video for a song, um, which song do you mean, exactly?"

Kurt chuckled lightly, too innocently for Dave's liking. Dave forced his eyes to stay locked on the little blonde's face and not look down, not look down. A song off the album, of course. Off 'In Utero'."

"W-well, yeah." He couldn't help but stutter a little. It was fucking hard not to look down. "But which song?"

"Guess." Now Kurt was slinking towards the bed, and Dave was feeling very uncomfortable. His eyes flickered over to the camcorder sitting on the top of the cabinet. It's red light seemed exceptionally bright, and somehow too animated. Too fucking alive.

Guess?! "Um..." The drummer was suffering through one hell of a mental blank. It seemed he couldn't remember even one of the songs off the album. But Kurt was looming over him, waiting, so he spat something out between frozen lips. "Allapolajah?"

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck now I'm so screwed. He blushed heavily, and tried again. "...'A-all Apologies'?"

"Nope." Kurt stood at the foot of the bed, towering, dominating. "Not 'All Apologies', Dave." He grinned. "Guess again."

"I, I dunno, Kurt," he breathed, his voiced sounding almost as unsettled as he felt. Kurt's eyes gleamed, face filled with secrets and hidden promises and dark satisfaction with the situation he'd created. And the front of his pants was still bulging merrily. (Dave couldn't help it. He looked.)

"How, how about 'Pennyroyal Tea' then?"

"No. Not 'Pennyroyal Tea', either." Swiftly, the singer bent low, and actually began crawling up the mattress towards his pretty, young drummer. "Come on, David... I know you can do better than this."

"I, I... o-oh, God!" But all coherent thought sort of disintegrated for Dave in that moment, because the little blonde man climbed onto him and straddled his waist heavily, and Dave could feel him down there, hard and urgent and throbbing against his hip. He shivered uncontrollably. "K-kurt?"

Kurt laughed into Dave's helpless face, into his dark eyes cloudy with confusion. And maybe even something more than just confusion. "Do you give up, Dave? Okay then. Perhaps, in that case, I'll give you a little hint." And with that, he leaned right down against the younger man to whisper-sing into his ear.

"Rape me... Rape me, my friend.
Rape me... Rape me, again."

For Dave, it suddenly all clicked into place. And he was stunned by it. "Oh my God, Kurt..."

"I need you, Dave." The drummer gazed up into the urgent and lustful gaze of his band mate, and it made something break open inside of him that was new and foreign and strangely, blackly exciting. But before he had the chance to explore this new-found emotion, Kurt's hands fell to his waist, fumbling with his jeans, and it made him go rigid all over. "I need your help, Dave. For my music video."

"W-wh-" He tried to speak but was cut short, yelping as Kurt licked the side of his face. Kurt's tongue was rough yet warm and tender, like a kitten's, and Dave had no idea what to do about it. "I need you to help me," Kurt continued in a smoldering purr." Because you are the star of my video." Dave bleated when he heard a metallic zip; Kurt was busy freeing him from his pants. "D'you wanna know the theme I've chosen for this video?" Still mute with shock, the drummer could only stare. But that was okay. Kurt hadn't really been expecting an answer, anyway. He just grinned, and pushed Dave down against the bed, belly first. Then he crawled over him, onto him. "The theme," he growled. "Is domination."

There was a soft thud, as Dave's jeans were tossed carelessly to the floor. A short, hard gasp, when the younger musician felt Kurt's heat pressed up against him from behind. He felt dizzy. He felt faint. Jesus, this is insane. It's insane.

Kurt was singing again.

"Rape me... Do it and do it again.
Waste me... Rape me, again."

The blonde breathed hard with restraint, trying to hold himself back, savor the moment. He reached out for Dave's shoulders, found them hard and tense. And he hesitated.


The younger man said nothing for the longest time, and Kurt feared that his friend was going to reject him, refuse him, cast him aside. He didn't think he'd be able to live with that kind of rejection.

Then Dave turned his head, and Kurt could plainly see the fire blazing in his eyes. There was confusion in that gaze, but Kurt knew any awkward explanations could be put off until later. If need be, he could always blame his behavior on the drugs. For now, he was just happy to have Dave on his side.

"Well, what are you waiting for? " the drummer crooned. His voice was low, husky, and utterly perfect. " Rape me, already."

Couldn't have put it any better myself, thought the singer, and his grin was one part mischief two parts desire as he dove into the body poised beneath him. Dave threw his head back, and positively howled.

"Ah, fuck, Kurt!"

"Shut up." He dug his knees into Dave's sides like spurs, pinning him, winding him, riding him like a horse. He sighed and shifted slightly to find the place where it felt best, his hips rolling like a pro. He ground up against the drummer's ass. He was such a good, tight fit, Kurt realized. Such a perfect fit.

"K-kurt." Dave couldn't help himself, he had to whine at the pleasure blossoming inside himself. He knew it was the bitchy thing to do, but he decided being Kurt's bitch was not the worst position he could be in. This type of fucking was new to him, deep and primal, something he'd never felt before. It hurt, and he couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it was even both, both at the same time. He felt filled, stretched fit to burst, blissfully burnt inside. He knew was that it was perfect, and he hoped to never fuck another girl for as long as he lived.

"Oh God, Kurt, p-please," was all he could manage by means of articulation.

He was quickly becoming addicted to being fucked.

Even through Dave's broken words Kurt got the gist of what he was trying to say. He reached down beneath the trembling drummer, reached for the intense heat radiating between his thighs. He found what he was looking for and massaged firmly, pulling a broken, happy moan from Dave.

His voice was uneven and hoarse when he next sang, but it was still sexy despite of it, or maybe because of it, and either way it sent little thrills of adrenaline shooting up and down Dave's spine. He whimpered softly.

"My favorite inside source,
I'll kiss your open sores.
I appreciate you concern,
You're gonna stinkin' burn."

Then Kurt lifted his hips, and hit Dave deep down in that perfect, special place, and hit him hard.


Self-control was impossible. Inhibitions were obliterated and Dave screamed long and loud, his prostate screaming right back at him. He was on fire, the whole world was on fire but he didn't care. Everything was passion. Everything was blissful agony.

Kurt's sense of timing was flawless, and Dave doubted the singer could have hit his spot any more dead-on if he'd drawn him a map that let right to it. He heaved and convulsed, bucking so hard he almost threw Kurt off his back. Pleasure rushed through him in decimating waves.

The blonde leaned right down, and took Dave's earlobe gently between his teeth. Through his soft mouthful, he began to growl roughly.

"Rape me... Rape me, my friend.
Rape me... Rape me, again."

With an animal howl, Kurt lurched forward, throwing his entire weight savagely down into Dave's body. In the same moment, his teeth closed in over the soft flesh of Dave's earlobe, hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to make the younger man rock and moan with pain. Dave tossed his head, and for a split second his eyes fell on the camcorder, sitting innocently on its bedside cabinet. The little red light was still on, and wonder of wonders, the damn-fucking thing looked as though it was actually winking at him.

Kurt pressed his cheek against Dave's, and a great heat radiated between them.

"Let me fucking rape you, David!" he whisper-screamed.

And that was it for Dave. He was totally gone.

"KURT!" He reared up like a bronco, cumming harder than anything into Kurt's waiting fist. His brain melted out through his ears and his muscles turned to water and his prostate went up in flames, and as he fell forever down into the mattress he heard Kurt scream something that was either an obscene curse-word or his own name, it was just too hard to tell. Then he felt hot liquid shoot down through the center of him, but even that was hazy and distant, unimportant.

Kurt shuddered and gasped for air as his hips twitched then subsided, and pulled out of Dave to join his friend down against the mattress, entwining their sticky limbs together. They shared a soft, slow kiss. Their first kiss. The kind of kiss that makes lovers out of friends and soulmates out of lovers.

"David," Kurt murmured gratefully, and that was all he had.

They rested there, in a sweaty, messy daze, for a long time.


"I'm home!" Krist announced to no one in particular as he came through the hotel door, kicking off his shoes and throwing his coat indifferently onto the floor. He frowned at the absence of his friends being there to greet him. Oh great, I've been abandoned, he thought. Then he heard the shower running in the bathroom, and figured that meant at least one of his band mates was still around, at any rate.

He sighed and glanced about the room, absently wondering if there was anything good on television, and what they would be having for dinner that night.

Then he saw the camcorder, sitting discarded on the sofa. Hmmm... For no particular reason he picked it up. Turned it on. And pressed play.

"I need your help, Dave."

"With what?"

"I want to make a music video."

What music video?
Krist wondered, and sat down to watch...


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