Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/734221.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Character:
      Kurt_Hummel, Finn_Hudson, Noah_Puckerman, Mike_Chang, Matt_Rutherford,
      Artie_Abrams
  Additional Tags:
      Drug_Use, Circle_Jerk, Orgy
  Series:
      Part 6 of Get_Glee_Laid
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-24 Words: 1634
****** Next Time Lets Perform DJ Caffeine's Fuck On Cocaine ******
by gala_apples
Summary
     Kurt's going to tell the girls that they took performance enhancing
     drugs. He's just not going to tell them that there was more than one
     kind of performance.
     Set during 1x06- Vitamin D
Kurt spends the entire brainstorming session drawing exotic feathers. He’s not
the only one not paying attention; Finn is slumped over in his chair, sleeping.
He can’t fault either of their choices. Finn’s needs will be covered
automatically, without needing to chime in. It’s what comes of being a
perfectly average guy. Himself, on the other hand- well, the song’s not going
to be in his range, which means background singing yet again, which means it
doesn’t really matter if he has personal feelings about any of the routine.
Eventually Finn gets called out for drooling, then Puck convinces Finn to go to
the nurses office. He comes back different, like he’s been turned up to 200%
volume.
“Hey guys! How’s it going? God it’s a beautiful day! Let’s run through the
number! I can’t wait to do the number! I’m ready and excited, are you guys?
Stand up! Come on, let’s get this joint jumpin’!”
“Has your soul been taken over by caffeinated space aliens?” Artie asks.
“No! Just visited the school nurse, got this great vitamin, I feel fantastic! I
can’t wait to do the number- let’s do the number and then afterwards we can
build a house for Habitat for Humanity!”
“What kinda vitamin?” Puck asks.
It’s a good question, Kurt thinks. He follows up with “Vitamin C? Vogue
magazine says it boosts energy levels and brightens the complexion.”
“Vitamin D. And I got you guys some.” Finn is grinning, and Kurt feels his face
respond before he reminds himself to tone it down.
“Dude, toss it over. I’ve been tired too.”
“Yeah, we could all use a kick, I think. I mean, couldn’t we?” Artie looks at
him, and he’s not the only one. Kurt rolls his eyes. Last month April Rhodes
had him drinking before breakfast. He’d hardly a stick in the mud. Besides,
it’s just vitamins.
Kurt continues to draw feathers. It’s what he wants to wear, and they could
still go with the stupid manly song. Badasses can wear feathers too, the guys
would know that if they were listening to him. No one is listening to him. Of
course, he can’t be that mad. No one is really listening to each other either.
They’re all just babbling. He’s doing it too. It’s like he can hear himself,
but he can’t stop himself.
There’s no way what they took is over the counter. He’s as high as Emmett
Honeycutt and Ted Schmidt ever were, and he hasn’t smoked anything, so it’s
probably speed. Unfortunately for him this brainstorming session probably won’t
turn into a drug fueled gangbang. A shame, really. He might love Finn, but Kurt
can imagine all of them fucking him. He’s sixteen, he can imagine half the
world fucking him. Not that he would necessarily be bottom. It does his soul a
lot of good to imagine Puck wailing for more as five guys in a row fuck him.
He wonders how many of them realise they’re currently high as balls. Puck for
sure, he’s hoodlum enough that he’s probably done everything. Harder to say
about Mike and Matt and Finn. It’s not like he knows what happens at a football
party. For all he knows they roll on E every weekend. Kurt can’t exactly
picture Coach Tanaka being a good enough coach to demand drug tests.
Kurt looks up from his sketching when Matt pats his arm approximately twenty
seven times to get his attention. Yeah, they’re definitely all on something.
Although maybe it’s not speed. What they all took came in that plastic bubble
foil packaging, and Kurt’s pretty sure most dealers don’t sell things that
professionally. Maybe it’s Adderol. Kurt’s heard that if you don’t have ADHD,
taking their meds can make you ADHD.
“Yes?” He curbs the urge to babble even though his brain wants him to. No one
here wants to listen to anything he has to say, beside maybe Artie.
“You have to vote on the choreography.”
“Yes,” he replies with a handwave he means to look regal. Whatever they’ve
picked on their testosterone and drug fueled haze, it’ll be easy enough to do.
Kurt’s a good dancer, Single Ladies is proof enough of that. It’s highly
unlikely that this dance will be anything like that though. It’ll have to be
far more masculine. There will probably be fist pumping. The only real thing
Kurt has to look forward to is the breakdancing solo Mike and maybe Matt will
do.
He’s right. It’s an endless grabbing of microphone stands on the low risers,
with a bit of Mike doing his thing. It’s barely choreography, but somehow
Kurt’s still sweaty when they sit down for a break. It only makes sense when he
looks at the clock. Even low contact dancing can be sweaty if you do it for
three class periods. Clearly time distortion is another side effect of whatever
they’re dosed with. Probably for the best, anyway. The way Kurt’s feeling he
would undoubtedly draw attention to himself in class.
He’s about to stand and get a handkerchief from his satchel when Artie asks “is
anyone horny? I’m horny.” Kurt freezes. The only way he’ll make it out of this
room of football players alive is if he draws absolutely no attention to
himself. He can’t even inhale.
“I’m always horny,” Puck answers, a leer on his face and his hand rubbing up
and down the fly of his jeans.
Hyperventilating is the opposite of not breathing, but thank god for small
miracles, his heaving chest doesn’t attract any glances.
“We’re all guys, we’re all always horny.”
Lady Vogue and Mistress Chanel, save him from boy logic.
“You five go to the bathroom and I’ll stay here. By the time I wheel myself
I’ll be soft. So you five go and I’ll stay.”
“None of us like walking down the hall hard either. It’s awkward.” Mike says.
His hand is on himself too. Kurt shouldn’t be looking at Mike Chang’s hand, but
he can’t stop. If he doesn’t get oxygen into his lungs soon he’s going to pass
out. And he’s going to wake up with shoe prints on his face because this will
somehow be all his fault.
“Okay fine, we’ll all stay here, and no one says anything.”
Kurt is going to die. Kurt is actually literally going to fall over and die.
And then his brain whirls into a new gear altogether. Finn is unzipping his
jeans and it’s impossible to look away. Even though Kurt can hear four other
zippers being undone he can’t look away from Finn’s hand working himself with
the same manic speed that this whole afternoon has had.
“What? Fags don’t have dicks?”
Kurt automatically looks over at his interrogator, and gets a good look at
Puck’s cock. It’s bigger than he’d spitefully imagined.
“Stop perving on us and jerk off like a normal person.”
Kurt has nothing to say. There is nothing in his repertoire for a moment where
Noah Puckerman yells at him for not jerking off in a room full of good looking
guys. He is going to die, but he’s going to do this once in a lifetime thing
first. Blushing furiously Kurt undoes his belt. Normally the thought of leaving
it flapped open rather than safely coiled would horrify him, but at this point
he has other concerns.
As Kurt strokes his cock he lets himself go sort of cross-eyed. That way it
will look like he’s looking at no one while he’s really got a slightly fuzzy
panoramic view. Artie’s barely touching his shaft, mostly just working the head
of his cock. Mike’s somehow doing this so rhythmically it looks artistic. Kurt
didn’t even know that was possible. And of course Finn is fantastic, the best
of them all.
The room smells like sex. It’s all five different Wal-Mart colognes and sweat
and nothing like any of the candles Kurt has for special occasions. This is the
hottest thing that has ever happened to Kurt. From this day on he’s going to
petition that Pier 1 begin stocking a sex scented candle. Everyone would
benefit from having this in their lives.
Finn orgasms first, to a chuckled I knew it from Puck. The unmistakable smell
of come adds itself to the air. It’s a push that acts like a domino. Over the
next minute the rest of the boys in the room come, Artie second, Puck last.
Kurt allows himself ten dangerous seconds of afterglow before he stands, zipper
still undone.
“Don’t run Hummel. I’m not going to break your teeth.”
“I’m getting a handkerchief,” he replies, trying for archly. He’s aware he
doesn’t make it. Between the drugs still working in his system, post orgasm
endorphins, and genuine fear one of them will beat him, sophistication is a
hard tone to wrangle.
“You got six?” Matt asks.
“No.” Kurt replies. Just how gay do they think he is? Then he reconsiders. He
was going to construct that gibbeous style skort in sewing class - which he
missed to do drugs and have his first sexual experience. He actually has about
fifteen handkerchiefs stuffed into the bottom of his bag. “Possibly. If I lend
them out, you will wash and return them.”
To his utmost surprise, they simply accept his conditions. None of the football
players ask what he’s going to do with the handkerchiefs once returned. The
answer of course is not that he’s going to keep them in a creepy gay shrine.
This was a good experience, but not that good. Kurt’s going to wash the
handkerchiefs a second time just to be certain they’re clean, and then make his
skort. He’s only got a few weeks left before it gets too late in the season to
pull off such a look.
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