Page 38 of Hurt

Of course he did.

Grant shook his head. He would have to talk to that boy. “You should have called me. I would have come get you.”

Kurt shrugged and ducked his head. He hadn’t met his eyes since he opened the door.

“Is everything okay?”

Blowing out, he caught one of his bangs, sending it flying away from his face. “Do you like me?”

Grant blinked. “Yes. I do.”

Kurt chewed his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment. “…I…” he stammered.

Grant wanted to reach out to him, but he held his hand back. “Why don’t you come inside?”

He led Kurt inside his home. Taking a seat on the couch, he indicated that Kurt should do the same, but he shook his head. Fiddling with the hood strings on his jacket, he looked everywhere but at Grant.

He was nervous.

Grant smiled. How could such a big guy look so cute?

“Kurt, why don’t you sit?”

Those dark eyes snapped to his. Finally. Finally, he could see what was going on in his head. Kurt’s bottom lip fell out from between the teeth that had been worrying at it. The plump skin was red and swollen from his abuse. Grant stared at it and felt his heart slam against his chest.

He moved quickly. Boots thumped against the old hardwood floor as he took two long strides. Suddenly, Grant’s lap was full of Kurt. His weight was pressing him into the couch, and strong thighs were holding onto him for dear life. Kurt’s hands fisted into his old sweater, and violet strands of hair tickled his face as they stared at each other.

The younger man was breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

“Grant,” he rasped.

Hesitantly, Grant lifted his hands to Kurt’s side. His palms could feel the warmth from his skin through the dark jeans he was wearing, and he was unexpectedly aware of just how much of Kurt was pressed to him. He smelled like alcohol with a strange floral tinge hiding just underneath, something sweet fighting against the sharp aroma of the liquor.

Grant groaned, feeling the weight of his desire fighting with the logical side of his brain that was screaming he should stop. He should check in with Kurt. Make sure he was okay.

“We should—”

“Shut up,” Kurt snarled, ducking his head down to press his lips against—

With a jolt, Grant woke up. The book slipped off his lap and thumped to the floor. His breathing was ragged, and his hands were grasping at thin air. Heart beating against his chest, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Somewhere in his musings, he must have fallen asleep.

When he lowered his hand, he was left facing his erection staring up at him.

“Fuck.”

The smell of pizza filled the tiny apartment. Even with the door open, melted cheese and the spice of pepperoni clogged the air, making the occupants even hungrier than they had been when they ordered it. Willow picked up a slice and bit into the point.

“Hot. Hot. Hot,” she mumbled, opening her mouth and breathing out the heat so her tongue didn’t burn.

Noah laughed and shook his head. “Do you ever think before you do anything?”

“No,” Kurt responded from where he was ensconced in the beanbag. His face was drawn but not unpleasant. Some of the hostility Noah felt when he first arrived was gone. His uncle just looked tired.

Which was partly his fault. There was only one queen-sized mattress in the apartment. They had tried to squeeze on it together, but Noah had ended up under Willow. Eventually, he migrated to the bean bag, curling up like a cat and finally falling asleep. He imagined Kurt didn’t get much sleep either.

“It’s called being passionate, you philistines,” Willow said dismissively. “’Tis better to be burned than not eat the pizza.’”

Noah stared at her. “Or you could just…wait until the pizza cooled off?”