Fic: Trying To Find The In Between (Kurtbastian, NC-17)

Title: Trying To Find The In Between
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: 2500+
Summary: Lines are blurring, some questions are bubbling to the surface, and this might not be as much of a game as anyone thought. Title from ‘Young Blood’ by The Naked and Famous.
Europe Is Our Playground ‘verse: Paris | Prague | Copenhagen | and so we travel onward…

Tilting his head, Sebastian regards the imposing structure before him, admiring the spires that pierce the bright blue of the sky. The sight of it never gets old; it’s one of his favorite places to visit in one of his favorite cities in Europe.

He checks the view in front of him against the photo on his phone that Kurt sent him. Yep. It’s a match, sent a little less than an hour ago with the message, about to go see this, too bad you can’t meet me here.

Tourists bustle around Sebastian as he turns around and carefully aims his phone camera so that he gets a good shot that clearly shows him standing in front of Sagrada Familia. He makes sure to make his smile as big and obnoxious as possible before swiping his thumb over the button to snap the picture. In another moment, it’s sent off and he shoves both phone and hands into his pockets, still grinning like an idiot while he rocks back and forth on his feet.

He’s expecting just an indignant message in return, but everything works out even better than he could ever have anticipated when in less than five minutes, he hears a muffled “Son of a bitch” in a very distinct and familiar voice only a few feet away.

I love Barcelona in the summertime,” Sebastian volunteers cheerfully when a very put out Kurt emerges from a clump of nearby tourists.

Kissing Kurt is rapidly becoming Sebastian’s favorite new pastime.

It doesn’t matter how or where or what he’s kissing, Sebastian really, really likes kissing Kurt a lot. He likes his tongue, he likes the taste of his mouth – still mint and clove and sometimes wine or coffee – he likes the smooth arcs of Kurt’s shoulder blades and the taut firmness of his ass, he likes the soft skin of his inner thigh and most of all, he really likes Kurt’s neck.

Yes, kissing Kurt – or maybe just Kurt generally, though it’s best not to think about that too closely – is a drug to which Sebastian is growing increasingly addicted.

Slowly, he savors the drag of his tongue along the soft skin where shoulder meets neck, trails just the tip of it up the curve leading to Kurt’s ear, where he lightly nips at the lobe. As Kurt shudders back against him, Sebastian traces his fingers down Kurt’s arms, leaning in closer and closer as he follows the path down to Kurt’s hands.

He tangles their fingers together, feels his cock making itself rather comfortably at home in the warm cleft of Kurt’s ass. “Brace yourself,” he whispers, curling Kurt’s fingers carefully around the wooden bars of the bed frame.

So you’ve been here before,” Kurt grumbles, pocketing his phone and holding a hand out to take Sebastian’s shoulder bag. “Should have known. Is this actually a challenge for you at all?”

This city wasn’t,” Sebastian admits, dipping his head in a tiny apology. “I recognized Parc Güell right away and I got lucky with a plane… but there’s still tons of places in Europe I haven’t been. And I wasn’t kidding when I said I loved it here. I do. So…thanks. For picking it.”

But Kurt still looks a little crestfallen in a way that, disturbingly, makes Sebastian want to kiss him until he smiles.

He shakes it off, nudging Kurt’s arm. “Hey,” he whispers. “There’s no losing in this game. So I guessed where you were really fast. It just means I’m here early and we have more time to fuck around together. Right?”

A speculative look creeps across Kurt’s face and he nods, lips pursed thoughtfully. “That is true.” When he glances up at Sebastian, his eyes are distinctly mischievous. “Can’t check into our hotel for another hour though. They’re holding my bags at the desk.”

That’s fine.” And it is. “Let’s drop mine off and I’ll treat you to the best view in Barcelona. Unless you’re afraid of heights?”

Sebastian’s palms follow the reverse path of his fingers and glide back over Kurt’s arms and shoulders. He can feel the tension crackling off of Kurt as he wonders what Sebastian is going to do, chuckles low against Kurt’s back while he trails kisses and bites along his spine. He has a few things he wonders himself, like how long Kurt is going to let Sebastian get away with doing basically whatever he wants to and with Kurt’s body.

He finds himself to be surprisingly okay with leaving the time to be indeterminate. Making Kurt feel good and fall apart provides a gratification he’d never anticipated. Sebastian is used to giving lovers only so much before he demands reciprocation, fucks from the top because it’s a power trip.

And he never, ever kneels behind anyone, never reaches forward and strokes a slow hand over the firm mound of their ass, certainly never pulls their cheeks carefully apart and just slides the tip of his tongue right inside of them.

When the broken moan growls its way out of Kurt’s chest, Sebastian decides that reserving this particular delight for this particular lover was a very good idea, because no one else could ever make that sound. It curls right through him like a swallow of good brandy, warming him from the inside out and stiffening his cock.

Experimentally, he begins to slowly fuck his tongue in and out of Kurt, pulling back sometimes to press kisses to the soft, smooth skin in this hidden area. His fingers squeeze and knead Kurt’s ass as he licks and sucks and thrusts, and every soft moan and gasp overhead cements his certainty that only Kurt was the right person to appreciate this.

Kurt is not afraid of heights. Though even if he were, Sebastian would be doing a masterful job of distracting him from his phobia.

He’s got his palms pressed to the window of the gondola they’re occupying by themselves after Sebastian winked and slipped the tramway operator a few Euros. The view of Barcelona from the sky is indeed breathtaking, water and boats and sprawling city teeming with people that look like…well. Ants. They’re pretty high up.

Sebastian is all but plastered to his back, one hand trailing teasingly along the waistband of Kurt’s loose linen trousers. The other hand is resting on Kurt’s forehead, pulling his head gently to the side and exposing his neck so that Sebastian can nip and mouth the skin, sucking light kisses that tingle all the way down to Kurt’s toes.

The aerial ride into Montjuïc is short, so they can’t get up to any serious shenanigans, which is peculiarly fine by Kurt. The tram ride lacks all of the frenzy of their previous encounters, is instead permeated with a lazy sensuality that is almost sweet in its slow burn. Kurt sags back against Sebastian a little, content to let himself be cradled, held, wanted.

It’s been a very long time since he’s been in someone’s arms in precisely this way.

The silver chain around his neck is heavy with memories that threaten to intrude and ruin his contentment, memories he is in constant battle to push down and lock away. It reminds him of someone else’s arms, someone else’s kisses, of love and promises that turned to dust and blew away.

This is not the time or place to think of these things. And even if it were, for the first time in two years, Kurt finds himself wanting to live in the present rather than wallowing in the past. The present, he decides, is an unfolding adventure that he is really enjoying.

With effort, Kurt focuses on the city below, on its people and buildings and parks and trees. He relaxes into the attention being paid to his body, enjoys the roaming hands and hot kisses. Sebastian seems to like doing things to Kurt and for right now, Kurt is perfectly happy to let him, because Sebastian is, as it turns out, stupendously good at what he does and takes obvious pride in the results of his work.

Kurt sucks his bottom lip in and bites down as Sebastian scrapes a particularly sensitive patch of skin with his teeth. The sting sends a shiver rocketing down Kurt’s spine, and he involuntarily shoves his ass more firmly against Sebastian’s crotch. Oh, yes, right now, he really is happy to let Sebastian spoil him rotten. For the moment.

Descent,” Sebastian murmurs into Kurt’s neck, disengaging with obvious reluctance. They’re approaching the fortress slowly enough that they’ll be able to calm down a bit before they have to disembark.

On the return trip, Kurt thinks, I’m going to shove him down on that bench and show him a few tricks of my own.

He’s pretty sure he could make Kurt come just with tongue-fucking his asshole, but the way Kurt keeps shifting his ass back and groaning just makes Sebastian so hard he’s about to burst. He wants to be buried inside of Kurt now, fingers gripping tight at shoulders and waist, fucking long, drawn-out strokes of his cock in and out with slow shifts of his hips.

With a sigh, Sebastian withdraws and pats Kurt’s ass before rolling off the bed. “Don’t go anywhere,” he jokes weakly, and is rewarded with a ragged laugh and gentle sigh.

When he comes back he wraps his free arm tight around Kurt’s chest and holds him so close he can feel his heart beating against Kurt’s back. It’s torture to be so slow and careful when both of them are so hard, but Sebastian won’t skimp and anyway, he likes watching what he can see of Kurt’s face as he works his fingers into him. Kurt’s bottom lip is always so red from his constant sucking and biting, his eyes so dark, his skin flushed that faint pink from excitement and exertion. He drops his head and breathes hard as Sebastian’s fingers open him up.

They don’t exchange words when Kurt’s ready and Sebastian can’t wait anymore, Kurt simply tilts his head just enough to catch Sebastian’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and then he nods, once, nearly imperceptibly.

He’s seen it every time he undresses Kurt, so the sight of the platinum band dangling from the silver chain isn’t surprising to Sebastian at this point. He knows what it looks like, knows the soft sound it makes when it comes loose from Kurt’s shirt and thumps back down against Kurt’s chest.

What he doesn’t know is what it is. Is it a promise ring? An engagement ring? A wedding band? Sebastian isn’t stupid, he knows it’s something to do with Blaine. But what? Was there a wedding at some point? Or was it bought with hope and kept after hope withered and died on the vine?

He is aware enough of who Kurt is to be reasonably certain that it’s a memento, not a symbol. Kurt is moral, loyal, compassionate. He has all the compunctions that Sebastian lacks when it comes to cheating on a partner. So they are not cuckolding Blaine.

If anything, with the ring a constant presence, it’s like Blaine is actually there between them sometimes. A looming, gentle, silent and occasionally suffocating presence.

They have a routine by now. Sebastian tosses Kurt’s shirt aside and waits while Kurt quietly unclasps the chain and drops it onto the end table on the right side of their hotel bed. It will stay there until they’re sated, until Kurt picks it up on his way back from the bathroom and puts it back on without a word. At some point in the night Sebastian will wake up with Kurt curled around his back, the platinum an icy burn against Sebastian’s skin.

They’re both wound tighter than watch springs by the time Sebastian eases all the way inside of Kurt, but the slow simmer of their day together in the heart of Catalonia wraps around them and entices them to keep things leisurely, sweet and hot and drawn out as long as they can stand it.

Sebastian closes his eyes, pressing his lips to Kurt’s shoulder as he rolls his hips forward, languorous thrusts in a steady rhythm. The hand he’d had teasing along Kurt’s waistband in the Montjuïc tramway car isn’t teasing now, is firmly wrapped around Kurt’s cock and pulling in long strokes. Stroke, thrust, stroke, thrust, breathe, gasp, shiver…

He opens his eyes a little and tilts his head to watch Kurt. Kurt’s head is tipped back, mouth open just slightly, just enough to let soft breaths escape with each thrust of Sebastian’s cock. But his eyes are closed and Sebastian almost forgets to move, so fascinating is it to see exactly what Kurt Hummel really looks like when he’s completely lost in a moment.

“I’m gonna…” Kurt’s arm tightens under Sebastian’s chin as he grips the headboard more tightly and lets out a shivery gasp. “Sebastian -!”

He’s biting his lip again when he comes all over Sebastian’s hand, all flushed and hot and satiated as he sighs out a long happy moan. It unhinges Sebastian completely, and he wraps himself tight around Kurt, begins to fuck him in earnest now, chasing after his own climax. There’s still an air of languor around it all, it’s not a frenzied race to the finish, not a desperate climb to the top. It’s simply the two of them, simply a moment for Sebastian to get lost in.

He comes when Kurt’s fingers reach up to cover his and grip tight, holding the two of them together while Sebastian falls apart.



What’s with the ring?”

The question lands between them with a thud. Sebastian almost regrets it. They’d had what was just about a perfect day, fun and sexy and adventurous, and he had to go ask it, had to give voice to the curiosity that was always hanging over their heads.

Well, pillow talk never had been one of his strong points.

Kurt’s eyes darken and he casts his glance down, eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. “We weren’t married. If that’s what you were asking. Almost, but didn’t quite get there.”

Almost.” Sebastian curls his hand up under his head, full of prying questions he only just holds back. “Engaged?”

It’s long moments before Kurt answers, and it’s not really an answer. “He promised me always, once.”

What happened?” It’s out before he can stop it.

Kurt shrugs and rolls over onto his other side, facing away. “I guess always has a time limit.”

Sebastian watches him breathe, watches the rise and fall of his shoulders until it slows down and evens out, until the breaths are long and even and Kurt is asleep at last. Only then – ignoring the quiet little protesting voice that’s telling him he’s breaking more of his own rules - does he carefully slip over and wrap himself around this unlikely lover, holding Kurt close until he feels his own eyelids droop and close.

He doesn’t realize until morning that Kurt didn’t put the necklace back on this time.

They decide to stay in Barcelona for a few days just because, and choose the next city together, just this once.