Fic: I Wanna Make You Move Because You’re Standing Still (Kurtbastian, NC-17)

Title: I Wanna Make You Move Because You’re Standing Still
Media: Fic
Author: GlassParade (aka Glitterdammerung on Tumblr)
Rating: NC-17 
Pairing: Sebastian Smythe and Kurt Hummel
Genre: Smut
Spoilers: None, future-fic.
Word Count: 2300+
Summary: When Kurt sends a surprising text from Prague, it sets off what promises to be a deeply intriguing chain of events with Sebastian.
Additional Notes: A follow-up to We Glide Past Every City Light, this is the second of what’s become the ‘Europe Is Our Playground’ series of Kurtbastian stories. The title comes from ‘Paralyzer’ by Finger Eleven.

Kurt is astonished to discover that Sebastian is, like, the fucking Houdini of tight pants. If there were a Guinness Book record for speed removal of constricting clothing, Sebastian would hold it. In both the Solo and Partnered categories.

Shit, Kurt hadn’t had to lift a finger, and only the cold shock of the glass window on his backside let him know his jeans and underpants were gone at all. And then he only had a second to process that before Sebastian’s mouth was doing things that Kurt had previously been fairly certain only happened in the Kama Sutra.

Message From Kurt: Do you like Czech food?

Message From Sebastian: …hello to you, too. No idea, never tried it.

Message From Kurt: Would you like to?

Message From Sebastian: Sure. Why not. Where’d you find Czech food in Paris?

Message From Kurt: I didn’t. I’m in Prague. Dinner at 8?

Kurt’s sphere of reference is limited – there’s only been Blaine and a couple of regrettable post-split one night stands in his young life – but he’s willing to swear on that very life that this is right up there in the top 5 blowjobs he’s ever gotten.

Sebastian’s mouth is hot, tight and mobile, and Kurt’s fingers fold down around the lip of the windowsill, head tilting back to give voice to the long groan that winds out of him, starting somewhere around his curling toes and climbing deliciously up his legs, slipping along his shivering spine, warming his throat and spilling out of his mouth. What’s being done to his cock is obscene – he hadn’t known a tongue could be that wickedly nimble.

It’s all he’d hoped for when he woke up this morning with an incredible cockstand and his phone within arm’s reach on the bedside table.

Message From Sebastian: You want me to come to Czechoslovakia for a dinner date?

Message From Kurt: It’s been the Czech Republic since we were in diapers. And it doesn’t have to be just dinner; I found a fantastic little koláče place near my hotel. Buy you breakfast? Coffee’s fabulous here.

Message From Sebastian: Wow, one, I can’t believe you turned on your phone’s Czech keyboard just so you could spell a breakfast food with all the fancy little dashes. Two, may I commend you on the smoothness of your delivery on that sleepover invitation? Nice.

Message From Kurt: Only if it works.

Sebastian’s grip is firm enough that it’s going to leave bruises in the outline of his long thumbs and fingers along Kurt’s hipbones and ass. That’s fine; Kurt’s grip on the windowsill feels like it could just about crumble the white painted wood. And he likes the ache of it, the little pain that is the last thing keeping him tethered to the ground while Sebastian’s tongue is pressed flat against the underside of his shaft, while the head of his cock is sucked up against the roof of Sebastian’s mouth as if they’d been molded to fit together.

Kurt’s toes curl into the plush carpet when Sebastian sucks in a hard, deep breath through his nose before opening his lips just enough to loosen the suction and then – oh, Goddamn it, then he’s got just about all of Kurt’s dick in his mouth and throat for a moment and it’s so hot and so very very tight and this blowjob is really climbing the charts, Jesus fucking Christ.

When Kurt twists his head to rest his heated cheek against the window, his eyes twitch open the slightest bit, letting him see the reflection of the moon on the Vltava and the spires of Prague Castle, and he can’t help the satisfied smirk that’s tilting the corners of his mouth.

Message From Sebastian: Let me get this straight. Kurt Hummel, are you of all people making a transcontinental booty call?

Message From Kurt: Maybe. Or maybe we’ll just play Go Fish all night. If you want to find out, I suppose you’ll just have to come to Prague.

Message From Sebastian: Really. Setting a pretty high price on your stock there, don’t you think?

Message From Kurt: Got a lucky deck of cards? You might want to bring them.

If there is one thing Sebastian Smythe really prides himself on in the bedroom, it’s his oral skills. Hands down. He’s always had control issues and an oral fixation- his lollipop stash was and still is epic – and when he figured out he was gay? Porn let him know right away that he was pretty much born to suck cock.

He likes the heated bulk of an erect dick in his mouth, likes how he’s basically in control of how fast or slow his partner becomes unraveled by the flicks and twists of his tongue. He can see Kurt’s fingers flexing and curling around the windowsill, can hear animal groans overhead, and it’s all down to what he’s doing. This kind of power is a complete aphrodisiac for Sebastian; he’s been known to come without ever touching himself, just hearing and feeling what he’s causing his partner to feel.

Under his hands, Kurt’s hips shift and gently buck forward, the muscles of his ass clenching as he fights to not shove his cock hard down Sebastian’s throat. Kurt, too, has something of a controlling streak, Sebastian knows, and oh, he’s having the best time learning how to subvert it.

He drags his teeth ever so very lightly over the ridge separating head from shaft and is rewarded with a groan muffled through clenched teeth and a hand shooting down to fist in his hair. When his own cock stiffens and rises to standing, he knows it’s going to be one of those nights and all he can feel is satisfaction as bright as burning.

Setting his phone down on the desk in his tiny Paris hotel room, Sebastian glances around at what his life has become in the last several months. His trust fund has financed a decent, if spare room in the 13th Arrondissement, allowed him to get drunk and bring a string of pretty European boys back for meaningless sex on a regular basis, and kept him fed.

He hasn’t left Paris since he arrived, and he’s kept to essentially the same clutch of districts, in search only of distraction and sustenance.

Kurt’s flirty messages are a temptation. A bigger distraction than any wide-eyed Italian boy on a dimly lit dance floor. They pull him out of his complacency and put his fertile, yet wine-soaked and intellectually dormant mind to work.

Sebastian has an idea.

Sebastian swallows down as much of Kurt’s cock as he can, enjoying the saltiness of pre-come that trickles down his throat. They had not, of course, bothered with dinner. As soon as Kurt had opened the door of his room at the Mandarin Oriental, Sebastian had him up against the window, deftly stripping off their clothing and managing to keep Kurt distracted with hot, sucking kisses and grinding hips. Kurt had already been hard then, and Sebastian wondered what he’d been thinking of all day to cause it.

He’s pretty sure at least part of it was memories of their debauched night in Paris, and he loves that.

Pulling back up off of Kurt’s cock, Sebastian rolls his eyes upward to see Kurt staring down at him, eyes wide and high cheekbones flushed pink. Experimentally, he flicks his tongue out and swirls it around the thick, rosy head of the dick before him, lush, luxurious strokes with the flat of his tongue washing over and over the velvety hot skin.

Overhead, Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and his fingers clench white-knuckled on the windowsill. Sebastian knows that the grin that spreads across his face at this is nothing short of evil, but he can’t help it, Kurt’s the most fascinating lover he’s ever taken apart and it’s amazing.

He can tell it won’t be much longer for either of them. Licking his lips, Sebastian takes a deep breath and dives back in, letting his tongue drag along the folds and veins of the shaft in his mouth before he begins to suck and taste in earnest.

It doesn’t take long to pack up his things, and then there’s only arrangements to be made. Fortunately, in this age of nearly boundless internet and his good credit, this too is a quick matter, and then he’s shoving his laptop into his carry-on bag, catching up his suitcase, and checking out of his hotel room for the first time in three months.

He has no intention of coming back.

This is going to be a very interesting month or two for both of them, he thinks, and excitement puts a swagger in his step that’s been missing for a while. By the time he hails a cab for De Gaulle International, he’s practically whistling.

Kurt tries, he really does try to hold back and savor each delicious sucking pass of Sebastian’s lips and tongue. He’d spent most of his day in bed, rather than exploring Prague, fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking himself to orgasm a half a dozen times or more from the time he woke until he at last reluctantly dragged himself into the shower. Where memories of Sebastian fucking him senseless in Paris led him to jerk off twice more before he finally managed to get himself clean, groomed, and dressed.

He would have thought such masturbatory excess would have enabled him to last, but Sebastian’s skills in fellatio are nothing short of expert, and the man does seem determined.

Kurt has to bite down hard on his lip to keep from disturbing the neighbors when he comes, one hand tangled in Sebastian’s thick brown hair and the other braced against the wall. Sebastian’s hands clench even tighter at his hips and ass and pull him forward, deeper into voracious mouth and throat that swallows down every hot mouthful of come that spurts out.

Message From Sebastian: All right. I’ve landed and thank fuck for international phone plans. Where am I telling the cabbie to go? Type it out in Czech, I’ve never learned the language.

Message From Kurt: No need for Czech, I’m at the Mandarin Oriental. Give the front desk staff your name; they’re expecting you.

Message From Sebastian: Pretty sure of your odds, were you?

Message From Kurt: No one turns down strip Go Fish.

Message From Sebastian: You never said anything about stripping.

Message From Kurt: I thought it was implied in the invitation.

With a luxurious groan, Kurt slips to the thickly carpeted floor and tries to catch his breath. He leans his head against the wall, thinking he will return the favor in a moment or two, just as soon as aftershocks aren’t electrifying his calves and back. Definitely in the top five, he decides with a grin, sucking in a deep breath and opening his eyes.

To his surprise, Sebastian is already on his feet, tugging his boxers and jeans back on. “What the hell?” Kurt blurts out, more offended than he has ever been in his life, even going back to his senior year and the endless rounds of verbal evisceration he’d been subject to from Sebastian.

Sebastian leaves off buttoning his jeans back up and slides down onto his knees at Kurt’s side, catching him up in a kiss that just serves to make Kurt angrier, because it sure as hell looks like he’s not getting more of them. “Don’t get mad,” Sebastian tells him, and it is all Kurt can do not to strangle him on the spot.

“Explain,” he grits out, crossing his arms and turning his iciest glare onto the other man. “Quickly.”

“I would absolutely love to stay, I really would,” is the far from reassuring response as Sebastian gets back to his feet and pulls his rugby shirt back on. “But I have a plane leaving in two hours and I absolutely need to be on it.”

“Do you.”

“Mmhm.” Sitting down on the room’s love seat, Sebastian begins pulling on his sneakers and grins at Kurt while he laces them up. “Would you like to hear why I’m leaving?”

Kurt’s eyelashes flutter as he tilts his chin up and smiles tightly. “Do tell. I am absolutely spellbound.”

The hauteur in his voice has broken many a lesser man, but Sebastian just rolls his damnable green eyes and keeps grinning. “Well, Kurt, thing is…” He stoops down to pick up his other shoe and slides it on. “I’ve gotten kind of bored in Paris. And I was thinking, why not see Europe?”

“And now seemed like a good time?” Kurt can’t help it. He’s really annoyed and he knows he has started to pout. He’d really been looking forward to spending the entire night fucking and having his brains fucked out.

“Yup.” Sebastian gets to his feet and picks up the leather satchel he’d thrown down on a squashy red chair. Extracting his phone, he taps at the screen for a minute or two before glancing back up at Kurt. “Your phone is going to go off in a couple of minutes. But, uh, I don’t want you to look at it until I’ve been gone for at least half an hour.”

“What?” Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “Why? What the hell, Sebastian?”

Sebastian tips his head and smiles, appearing to be thoroughly pleased with himself. “Kurt, what are you doing over the next few weeks?”

Frowning, Kurt shrugs, but goes along with it and answers, hoping it will in turn net him a few of his own. “Nothing special. I’m done with the ready to wear shows, so I was just going to run around Europe for a while. This is the first time I’ve been here as a designer and not someone’s assistant.”

Sebastian’s grin just gets even wider. “So…wanna play a game?”

Picture Message From Sebastian: 

Message From Sebastian: Here’s your first clue.

Message From Sebastian: The next picture clue will be taken on location.

Message From Sebastian: Hang tight, guess right, and I’ll make tonight up to you.