Fic: You Were A Truth I Would Rather Lose (Than To Have Never Lain Beside At All) (Kurtbastian, NC-17)
Title: You Were A Truth I Would Rather Lose (Than To Have Never Lain Beside At All)
Author: GlassParade (aka Glitterdammerung on Tumblr)
Beta: Tina (Idoltina on Tumblr)
Warnings: Rough sex…well a little rougher than the usual.
Pairing: Sebastian Smythe and Kurt Hummel
Spoilers: None, future-fic.
Word Count: 6400+
Summary: Is Sebastian really ready to hear anything Kurt has to say?
Europe Is Our Playground ‘verse:
Paris | Prague | Copenhagen | Barcelona | Amsterdam | Gibraltar | Venice | and so we travel onward…
Message From Sebastian: Sending me a photo of a castle in Europe and telling me to meet you there is like saying you’ll meet me at the buckeye tree around the corner in Ohio. You know that, right?
Message From Kurt: Bitch, bitch, moan, moan. You made me traipse all over Venice just to find our hotel.
Message From Sebastian: Yeah, that was maybe a mile walk, I have a feeling wherever you are is kind of a longer hike?
Message From Kurt: I don’t know. Maybe? You tell me.
Picture Message From Kurt:
Message From Sebastian: You’re shopping.
Message From Kurt: …yes but that’s not the point, Mr. Unobservant.
“Are you particularly attached to this shirt?” The question comes on a rush of air underscored with a snarling hum of desire, seconds after Sebastian has hustled Kurt into their hotel room, kicking the door shut behind them. There’s no time or room for Kurt to think, not when he’s already pushed hard against the wall, not when Sebastian’s mouth is so greedy and devouring on his, not when the shirt he’s being asked about is already pulled up out of his jeans and rough, hot hands are roaming and grasping all over Kurt’s chest and stomach, fingernails piercing into his skin and making him gasp.
Sebastian doesn’t wait for an answer anyway, growling, “Fuck it, I’ll buy you a new one,” just before he pulls his hands out and literally rips the button-down open, throwing it aside and wrapping his hands around the back of Kurt’s neck. His thumbs tuck into the space just behind Kurt’s jaw on either side, tilt up his head and then his mouth is on Kurt’s again, demanding and taking with an intensity that literally hadn’t been present until they were in the elevator heading up here.
Message From Sebastian: Okay. Uh…the drivers are on the wrong side and there’s an HMV…so you’re somewhere in the vicinity of the UK?
Message From Kurt: Polo.
Message From Sebastian: What??
Message From Kurt: You know, like Marco Polo…
Message From Sebastian: Oh. Cute. Hey, that reminds me, I’m still in Venice not getting any younger.
Message From Kurt: Oh for…fine. Wait.
Message From Sebastian: For what?
Message From Kurt: I’m trying to find a cab. Shut up for ten minutes.
Message From Kurt: By the way, do I need to remind you that this entire game was actually your idea? I invited you to Prague for blowjobs and breakfast, not The Amazing Race.
Message From Sebastian: They’ve started having sex marathons on The Amazing Race? Totally got to start watching it again.
“Cameras,” Kurt had blurted when Sebastian latched on to him then, but he very very quickly came not to care right about the time he was backed up against the mirrored wall. Over Sebastian’s shoulder, he watched their reflection in the other wall through eyes already half-closed with the pleasure, watched Sebastian’s hands sliding down his arms to tangle their fingers together while he sucked hot kisses into Kurt’s neck, his teeth scraping over the too-sensitive skin that was already shading to violet under his lips.
Now, safely alone in the room, they’re yanking clothing off of each other, hot breath scorching sensitive skin, fingers threading through hair, clenching, pulling, gasps and long, drawn out groans. Hips slot together and grind hard through what’s left of what they’ve got on – not much at this point, both down to boxers or briefs, Sebastian’s shirt hanging open and down around his elbows.
Picture Message From Kurt:
Message From Kurt: I can’t make it any plainer.
Message From Sebastian: You’re in Dublin? What the hell is in Dublin?
Message From Kurt: NOT YOU.
Message From Sebastian: Okay okay, I’m calling Vivian now…
Kurt doesn’t know what’s prompted this kind of urgency, this heat and drive and almost possessive need that’s radiating off of Sebastian like heat on a pavement in the summertime. Their last few nights together have been sweet and slow, almost enough to fool Kurt into thinking they really could have a chance at more, maybe, if he’d wanted it.
But he doesn’t know if he wants it, still feels fairly certain he doesn’t deserve it, and really, in the end, more would not be Sebastian’s thing, no matter how nice he’s being, right?
Best not to think about it.
Best not to think.
“Thank God for budget airlines,” Sebastian mutters to himself with a grin as he tugs his phone out of his bag. Vivian had actually gotten him to Ireland way faster than he’d hoped or, he thought, than Kurt had intended. But then, in revenge for Venice, Kurt had led him a merry chase all around Dublin, actually sending photos of places he’d just left until Sebastian texted, It’s not like you to stall; you wimping out?
That had landed him the photo currently on his phone, which still wasn’t making things too entirely easy.
Message From Kurt: This is the view from where I am.
Picture Message From Kurt:
Sebastian turns away from the head shop to consider his choices for Kurt’s probable locale. From Nirvana’s storefront, there are three candidates, two shops and a pub. Immediately, he dismisses the pub; it’s not Kurt’s style. Nightclub, yes, pub, no. And it’s too early for clubbing.
That leaves him with two choices, both equally likely.
After a moment of thought, he tucks his phone away and picks the shop on the left.
Who can think, anyway, when Sebastian’s on his knees, mouthing at Kurt’s cock through his briefs. “Gonna have you here,” he mumbles, tongue licking out and dampening the soft cotton, hands running over Kurt’s thighs and ass. “Want you here, now, want…”
“Uh-huh,” Kurt breathes out, all knowledge of every language he ever even remotely studied or knew having flown from his mind, leaving him with only rudimentary communication. He tilts his head back as Sebastian pulls his dick through the front of his briefs, hips rocking forward towards warmth, towards envelopment, towards a generous, greedy, eager mouth that gratifyingly, still can never seem to get enough of sucking him off.
He is still absolutely not complaining.
“You found me.” When the yarn shop’s bells jingle, Kurt looks up from the two balls of soft Irish wool in his hands and smiles, just a little, just a tiny quirk of his mouth. “Good job.”
“Eh. I knew you wouldn’t be in the pub, and given the two choices you left me after that, I picked the one I was pretty sure you thought I wouldn’t choose.” Sebastian shoves his hands into his pockets and glances around the yarn shop. “It’s like you think I don’t know you.”
Kurt huffs out a short chuckle. “In so many ways, you don’t.”
“Yeah, but give me some credit for brains? I’m more than just a pretty face.” Sebastian tilts his chin to indicate the yarn Kurt’s holding, feeling unaccountably smug still. “For one thing, you design clothes for a living. I know you love music, so the music store was a possibility, but I also know you’ve been sketching designs when you think I’m not looking.” He quirks up an eyebrow. “This is supposed to be a vacation, Mr. Hummel.”
Red stains Kurt’s cheeks as he grins sheepishly. “It is a vacation. But I can’t tell my assistants I spent a month screwing you all over the continent…as far as they’re concerned, this is a working tour of Europe. I’m gathering inspiration from the cities I explore or whatever. I have to have some preliminary sketches and ideas when I go home.”
“Mmhm.” Carefully, Sebastian leans on a nearby shelf and nods again at the yarn in Kurt’s hands. “So what’s your inspiration for that?”
Kurt holds up the skeins of yarn, all of them in varying shades of gray from charcoal to overcast sky to dove. “In Ireland I was inspired by the overcast sky after a late summer storm to add a range of knit accessories to my line for the the oncoming fall season.”
“Really?” Sebastian reaches over to touch one of the skeins, and as he expects, it’s soft, sensual at his fingertips, exactly what he would have expected Kurt to select. He pulls back and crosses his arms. “Poetic.”
“Well, no, but it sounds good. It’s not my job to write the copy for my designs, I just like to have a hand in…wait.” Kurt looks up again from the yarn, now frowning. “What’s the other thing?”
The question makes no sense. “Huh?”
“The other thing.” Kurt’s attention is back on the display before him, and he pulls down another pair of skeins in a gray so light it’s almost white. Absently, he strokes one of them against his cheek for just a moment before squeezing the entire armload of yarn to his chest. “You said ‘for one thing’, so that tells me there’s another thing.”
Oh. Right. Damn it. He’d been hoping Kurt wouldn’t catch that. Crap.
“Oh. Uh…it’s…that.” Sebastian waves his hand at the yarn in Kurt’s hand, at his thumb stroking mindlessly up and down strands of the stuff. He can feel his face getting a little warm again at revealing something that’s such a personal observation, that gives away how closely his attention has been focused on Kurt lately.“You touch something soft and you play with it. When you’re worried or a little upset.”
“You noticed that?” There’s an odd, slightly confused expression on Kurt’s face. “Why?”
“Because…sometimes it’s my hair.”
They both blush a little at that. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“No! No.” Now Sebastian is completely flustered and is losing control of his filter. “I don’t, you know. Mind. That you do it.” Why? Why did I say that?
Fortunately, Kurt is frowning and seems too distracted to notice Sebastian’s momentary loss of composure. “Why do you think I’m worried or upset?”
And even more fortunately, this question gives Sebastian time to slip his cocksure confidence back into place. He digs out his phone and holds it up. “’Find me and I’ll tell you’?” He snorts, feeling more steady with every moment. “You’ve been a little distant since that night on the gondola. You did your level best to make finding you as difficult as possible this time. And here you are, groping yarn exactly like I thought you would be, which only proves to me that you are upset or worried about what you’re going to tell me about you and Blaine.” Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Sebastian keeps a careful eye on Kurt. “So? Am I wrong?”
Caught out, Kurt can only inhale slowly and draw his shoulders back, his fingers squeezing the skeins of yarn in his hand tightly enough that his knuckles contrast white as snow against the deep heathered charcoal colored wool. “No,” he admits, suddenly very deeply unhappy. “Let me buy this and we’ll go get dinner.”
Sebastian licks up his shaft, long and slow and lazy, ending with a leisurely swirl around the head before he all but swallows Kurt whole, taking him into his mouth and throat in a smooth motion. His head dips, pulls back, his tongue swirls again, and he repeats the process, pinning Kurt’s hips down against the wall as the cycle builds him up higher and higher.
If anyone has ever elevated oral sex to an art form, it’s Sebastian, though Kurt feels confident that he gives the man a damn good run for his money, when he gets the chance.
Just as Kurt’s toes are curling into the carpet and his hands are wound tight in Sebastian’s hair, he hears the growled order. “Turn,” Sebastian pulls off and tells him, accompanying his demand with a push and a smack to the ass that stings and sends shivers up Kurt’s spine.
Hm. He might like this an awful lot, he thinks.
It has never been Sebastian’s strong suit, and Kurt has been trying his for the last twenty minutes.
Still, he discovers, it’s easy to find previously unknown wells of tolerance when you’ve spent that twenty minutes watching someone you’ve come - however uncomfortably - to care about picking at their food instead of actually eating it. So Sebastian waits, picking at his own dinner, but at least occasionally taking a bite.
Kurt’s pizza sits, completely dismantled into piles of cheese and sauce and crust. It is otherwise untouched, abandoned in favor of a big glass of wine. Sebastian is starting to feel slightly guilty about cornering Kurt into revealing this; it seems fairly clear to him that emotionally, whatever happened with Kurt and Blaine is a way bigger minefield than the stalemate he faces with his father over his law career.
He wonders again how the playful fun of screwing their way across Europe diffused into something altogether more real. Wonders what to do about it, if there’s anything he wants to do about it. If it’s a good idea to.
At last, just as he is about to speak up and say, forget it, Kurt takes a long breath and meets his eyes. “It wasn’t some hugely dramatic thing, you know. No broken dishes or screaming matches or soul-crushing heartbreak.”
Could have fooled me. “Really.”
“No. It was…” He hesitates, picking at the stack of pepperoni slices on his place. “Sad. Painful. But not a really massive awful thing.”
Sebastian feels his eyes widen at the patent bullshitting. “You sure about that?” Reaching across the table, he touches the ring he can see outlined under the soft fabric of Kurt’s button-down. “You still wear this sometimes.”
“Not on my hand.”
“Close to your heart,” Sebastian counters before he can stop himself.
When Sebastian’s tongue flicks out over his hole, Kurt melts back into the soft caress, wishing – not for the first time – that hotels came with wall-mounted bars that he could grab onto. His knees go weak when the first intrusion comes, the blunt thick tip of Sebastian’s tongue pressing forward inside of his body, moving with such measured slowness as to be agonizing.
His fingers curl against the wall in unconscious echo of Sebastian’s fingers that are kneading his ass, stretching and kinking like he’s reaching for something that’s just beyond what he can touch. And Sebastian’s tongue keeps pressing, licking, tasting and thrusting as far inside as he can get it, never letting up, pushing Kurt further up towards the peak but never letting him quite summit -
Kurt groans in frustration when Sebastian pulls back again, sliding up to standing until he’s leaned up close all along the length of Kurt’s body and Kurt can feel his cock, just as hot and hard as his own, pressing against his ass like a brand. “I got you,” Sebastian tells him with a hard bite to the back of his neck before he disappears to rummage in their bags for what they need.
Kurt’s eyes drop back to his plate, just for a moment, then his shoulders heave again and his head comes up, his gaze focused on nothing. The look that shapes his face now is blandly pleasant, a look Sebastian remembers from long, long ago and now recognizes as Kurt’s ‘Everything Is Perfectly Fine’ face. In high school, it had amused him to see it, usually because he was the one who caused it.
It’s really not funny now.
“It just…ended,” Kurt finally says, his eyes still fixed on some distant horizon. “I guess if a relationship were a person, they’d call it natural causes.”
Sebastian forks up another mouthful of manicotti and waits for Kurt to go on. “That doesn’t sound like a huge problem,” he ventures eventually when the silence at the table weighs a thousand pounds. It also doesn’t seem like it could possibly be that simple, not when Kurt has looked wrecked every time it’s even mentioned, not when he’s avoided the topic with all the subtlety of a brick to the head for the last month.
“It’s the entire problem.” Suddenly, Kurt’s eyes focus on him and his jaw sets. It’s two long breaths and a handful of heartbeats before he speaks again, each word seeming pulled with agonizing slowness. “It’s the whole problem because it…it shouldn’t have. Everything was fine. It was good. It always had been good. And then it wasn’t. No explosions, no arguments, no cheating…it just died.” It seems like it should be impossible for him to go on, he’s gritting his teeth together so tightly, but he does. “I woke up one day and I realized we’d both forgotten our anniversary.”
It’s already very clear that Sebastian needs to tread very, very lightly here. Keep things simple. “Okay,” he replies, quiet, calm, and leaves it at that, digs up even more patience than he had ever known he possessed. And waits.
“And it bothered me how much it didn’t bother me.” By now, Kurt has picked his fork back up and is reducing the pile of discarded mozzarella back into its component shreds with a fearsome concentration. “We’d just gotten engaged a couple of months before. You’d think the most important day of our relationship, the whole reason we were two people engaged to each other in the first place, you’d think that would have been right there in the front of our minds, but no. Just…it wasn’t there. It went right past us. And I didn’t care.”
“Maybe you were still excited about the engagement,” Sebastian offers, feeling his guilt rise ever higher as Kurt’s agitation grows. “I don’t know much about relationships but that seems -”
“No. No, Sebastian, I didn’t forget my anniversary because I was excited about being engaged.” Kurt swigs down half a glass of Pinot Noir and his cheeks, already flushed with anger, grow even more red. “I forgot because I wasn’t in love with my fiancé anymore.”
He tries to get himself a little under control while he waits, struggling to regulate his breath and heart to a less excitable rate. It’s a vain exercise – just thinking of what comes next gets him wound up all over again – but he tries, wanting to make this last and feeling somehow sure that Sebastian’s need won’t let it.
I got you, he thinks, and wonders at it, how they have their own language for this unconventional relationship. It’s only been about a month, too soon for a more traditional triad of words even if this wasn’t a temporary waystation for each of them. But, Kurt thinks, if they were to defy all sense and try to be more than what they should be, would they say those words even then? He can’t imagine it. Feeling it, maybe, in a fever dream, but no, never in a million years saying it.
It actually is the last thing Sebastian expects. Kurt’s defensiveness around the entire subject of his split with Blaine had led him to think that Blaine had left Kurt. He’d seemed so hurt, so heartbroken. And while Sebastian has no doubt at all that Kurt is indeed both hurt and heartbroken, they’re not the ultimate source of his pervasive aching.
What is, Sebastian now realizes, is guilt.
“The worst thing is, I still don’t even know how I got there.” Kurt’s focus is off in the distance again, his fingers now running along the chain at his throat. “I’m still…I’m still trying to figure it out. Every day. My high school sweetheart. First boyfriend, first love, we lost our virginity together. I loved him…” His voice hitches, a tiny hiccup, then smooths out and steadies with another deep breath. “I loved him so much it hurt. How do you fall out of love with someone who would do anything for you?”
This conversation is so out of Sebastian’s depth, and he feels himself floundering for some way to fix it. Something, anything, but there’s nothing and Kurt keeps going on.
“I spent another month waking up next to him and willing myself to fall back in love. Telling myself over and over that I had no reason to ruin all of this. That being with someone like Blaine was a thousand in one lifetime chance – I mean, you don’t even know what coincidence and chance went into us even meeting in the first place.”
“I do, a little,” Sebastian interjects. “You two had some pretty big fans in the Warblers there for a while. When I first arrived at Dalton I heard the whole story…”
“And it’s a good story, isn’t it?” Kurt’s smile and tone are a little too bitter for comfort, full of the acid feel of cheap vodka on an empty stomach. “Fate on a spiral staircase. A good looking boy with the most beautiful eyes and a goddamn pocket watch in his hand turns around and smiles at you, at a time in your life when you think that’s never, ever going to happen – and then just months later, he’s yours, he loves you, he’s absolutely Prince Charming. You don’t…you don’t just throw that away less than ten years later. You don’t.”
He can all but hear what’s next. “But…”
“But I did.” At once, Kurt is soft and sad and vulnerable, guilt spiking off of him like barbed wire. “I loved Blaine. So much. I loved him and I wanted what was best for him, what made him happy, and all of a sudden I had to acknowledge that that wasn’t me anymore no matter how hard I wished…and I wished so hard, every night on every star I saw.” He reaches for the bottle of wine and pours another glass, slugs it back right away. “You know Blaine. He deserves nothing but to be loved wholly and completely, he doesn’t deserve to shackle himself to someone who can’t give him that. I tried and I tried and I -”
“I would have stayed with him forever if I’d thought it would be fair to him, because he was still happy with me. He still loved me.” With every word, Sebastian can practically feel Kurt’s heart splintering with the anguish of hurting Blaine. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to him.”
Sebastian really doesn’t even know what to say. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, but the words can’t do anything.
“I promised him we were going to grow old together. Like in ‘The Notebook’. But better, because I was going to be there every step of the way.” The sigh that gusts out of Kurt’s mouth sounds like it had had to climb hand over hand up from his toes, along his spine, passing his aching heart, whispering through his throat. “Everyone says high school romances don’t last. I wanted us to be the exception.”
“So nothing -”
“Nothing. Nothing went wrong. At all. After everything that happened in high school, all of it – you, NYADA, Blaine’s frankly insane older brother, this guy I met, Chandler somebody – we got through all of that. We got through a year apart. We learned how to have mature, rational discussions and never go to bed angry with each other. We had date nights.” He props his elbows on the table and threads his fingers through his hair. When he speaks again, Sebastian has to strain to hear him. “It just died. I failed him and it died.”
“Kurt.” Reaching a hand out, all Sebastian can do is curl his hand around Kurt’s wrist and feel helpless. He has no words, no idea how to make this better. Kurt’s obvious self-loathing could eat him alive, it’s such a palpably gaping void.
“What’s wrong with me? That I could fall out of love with someone who loved me like he did?” Shaking Sebastian off, Kurt grabs his glass and drains it. “It’s why I kept the ring. To remind me how defective I am.”
So lost in thought is he that the push of Sebastian’s lube-slick fingers is a shivery surprise, shoving into him just a little more roughly than usual. “Sorry,” comes the whisper, only the barest trace of repentance even qualifying it as an apology. “Can’t wait. Can you take it?”
“Please,” Kurt breathes back over his shoulder, curling his fingers again against the paint of the wall. He wants, needs, Sebastian’s teasing finally transmitting all the urgency in the world to Kurt and now they’re both wound so, so tight. Kurt pushes back hard against the invading fingers, sucking a breath in through his teeth at the slight burn of the fast stretch. “Please,” he repeats, beginning to rock against the forward push of Sebastian’s hand.
Sebastian’s free arm snakes around his chest, pulling him close and tight so they’re as close as possible to being one person. His fingers invade and retreat, push and stretch and bend. “I got you,” he tells Kurt again in a harsh whisper. “I’ve always got you if you want this…c’mon…”
This, Sebastian has a response for. “Wow. Hold on. You are so not defective.”
“Still maintain you don’t know me very well.”
Sebastian grabs him again. “I have great instincts and I don’t make time for defective. Okay? Shit happens, Kurt. Not everything makes sense.”
“I should have -” Oh, that stubborn face is so damn familiar. And while Sebastian does find Kurt’s mulish tendencies bizarrely endearing at this stage in their acquaintance, no way is he letting this slide without a fight. Two years is way too long to feel this unnecessarily bad about yourself.
“What? Fought harder? Done more?” He raises his hand and waves the waiter down for another bottle of wine. “My grandfather ran five miles a day, never smoked, rarely drank, and hadn’t eaten red meat in ten years when he kicked the bucket. Of a heart attack. Turns out his cholesterol was insane.”
Kurt’s eyes roll so hard, Sebastian can almost hear them sprain. “Your point?”
“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you do, nature’s gonna take its course.” He pauses, sifting through his mind for something, anything that could wipe the bitter smirk off of Kurt’s face. “Look, I know about being disappointed in yourself – no one better, right?”
Kurt shrugs, indifference clear in the gesture. “I guess.”
“Kurt.” He waits until the other man finally looks up and meets his gaze before reaching across the table again to grab his hand. “My shit that’s going on is my fault. But yours?” He shakes his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself. I mean, yeah, it’s obviously an awful thing that happened, but you said it yourself – if you could wish it fixed, it would be. I’m pretty sure you never wanted to not be in love with Blaine.”
“That’s…true,” Kurt replies, slowly, looking stunned and puzzled all at once, like this hasn’t ever occurred to him and no one has ever brought it up. Well, maybe that is the case. Sebastian has no idea if Kurt’s ever talked about any of this to anyone, though he’s leaning towards ‘probably not’ given how very like pulling teeth it had been to even get to this point.
He decides to press the point home, knowing this much damage can’t be reversed in one night – if ever – but wanting to help. “I know how much you loved him. Anyone who ever spent five minutes with the two of you would have to have been blind and deaf not to know it. You fought me for him so hard, Kurt. And you won. I know firsthand how strong you can be.”
“I…” Never in Sebastian’s memory has Kurt ever looked so like he’s been smacked in the face with a two by four.
“You wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t done everything you could think of to change your own mind, and…hey, guess what else?” He shakes Kurt’s hand around a little, making sure he’s still paying attention. “Didn’t you just say yourself that both of you forgot the anniversary?”
Uncertain hitches of breath carry Kurt’s unwinding groans into the room, joining with Sebastian’s filthy encouragements in a composition as erotic as it is pornographic. By the time fingers are replaced with a cock that fills him to bursting, Kurt’s lost almost complete control of language, just about completely reduced to pants and moans he knows Sebastian will understand.
“I wanted to do this in that fucking skytrain in Spain,” Sebastian gasps hot into his ear, punctuating his sentence with a sharp nip. “Bend you over…fuck you over the city till you couldn’t stand up…”
Oh, two can play this game. “Wanna fuck myself,” Kurt shoots back, on a breath of desperate air, “want you to watch -”
Sebastian’s eyes widen with lust and surprise and Kurt realizes he’s hit on something that Sebastian really wants. “Fuck,” Sebastian grinds out, using the arm braced over Kurt’s chest to pull him even closer, as impossible as it seems, and his other hand reaches around to start stroking along the straining length of Kurt’s cock. “Want that…want to see it…fuck yourself on your own fingers…”
“You want that,” and Kurt makes it a statement, not a question, knows his voice is loaded with all kinds of self-satisfaction he can’t help but feel at the power he has. “You liked it…on the phone…”
“Fuck, of course I did…” It slides out of Sebastian’s mouth on a growl, and his thrusting now is hard, rough and bordering on violent in its force. Kurt braces himself as best he can but he is loving this, every pull and bite and the feeling of being completely restrained, at Sebastian’s full mercy except for the one thing he can do.
“Did you imagine it?” he whispers now, and it’s shaky what with him being fucked within an inch of his life but he gets it out, slips it over his shoulder with a sly glance and he’s rewarded with the sight of Sebastian’s head dropping, eyes closing as he groans in desperation. “Picture me on a bed, showing off for you, fucking myself on my fingers for you, did you see that, did you -”
Kurt is still sitting in complete shock across the table. “How…how…I never…”
“Normally, I am a big fan of your mouth being wide open, but we’re in public and it just looks weird.” Sebastian shoves the tray with the remainder of Kurt’s pizza over and looks pointedly at him. “Since my cock would be a completely inappropriate option at the moment, how about stuffing some pizza into it, soak up some of that wine?”
But Kurt doesn’t move, doesn’t even react to Sebastian’s deliberately provocative jibe. “Wait, how did that not ever occur to me?”
“Fuck if I know.” Pulling back his hand, Sebastian pours them both one last glass of wine, determined to push things back uphill to a less depressing place, at least for the night. “And I don’t care. You know now, so get on the road to maybe not being so pissed off at yourself. Two years is a long damn time to hate yourself that much.” He jiggles the pizza tray again. “Eat, already, and I’ll let you have this wine.”
An unexpected laugh barks out of Kurt, startling them both. He reaches for the glass, but Sebastian pulls it away, shaking his head. “Oh, you are not my mother.”
“Nope.” Sebastian smacks him away. “I’m the guy who was kind of hoping to fuck you later. Eat your damn pizza.”
Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline. “I…admire your bluntness.”
“No, you admire my ass. I think you appreciate my bluntness. There’s a difference.”
“I actually can’t refute you on that point.” Still looking vaguely surprised, Kurt pulls a fresh slice of pizza off of the tray and nibbles at it for a moment before putting it back down. “Um. Thank you.”
Sebastian pauses, still holding back the wine. “For what?”
“For not trying to fix me and not calling me crazy or telling me I’d come to my senses.” He’s blinking again, but this time Sebastian gets the idea it’s an effort to hold back angry tears. “Rachel did that for months. So did my dad.”
Oh. “Well. I want to get in your pants tonight. Kind of defeats the purpose if I’m openly questioning your sanity,” he replies lightly, putting the glass down and gently pushing it over to Kurt.
“Kurt -” It’s a warning draped in admiration wrapped in sheer desire. “I won’t last -”
He’s okay with that now. Kurt plants his hands more firmly on the wall and thrusts himself back hard onto Sebastian’s cock, meeting a thrust that lifts him onto his toes. “You couldn’t touch me,” he hisses delightedly, adjusting to match Sebastian’s rhythm. “You’d just watch, you’d just wish you could fuck me, I wouldn’t let you.” His words are getting faster as heat unfurls at the base of his spine and sends snaking tendrils up his back. “And you couldn’t touch yourself until I sa-”
Sebastian can’t hold back any more, his orgasm jackhammering through them both so hard Kurt thinks it could bring down the hotel. He buries his noisy outcry in Kurt’s shoulder, biting down a little too hard and bringing Kurt right over with him. Kurt’s whole body goes tight and rigid with the sheer violent force of the entire encounter, of his orgasm. With nothing to stifle his own shout in, Kurt bites his lip almost bloody trying not to shout the room down around their ears.
It’s the hardest he’s ever come in his life and it feels like something has ripped free inside of him, pulled itself out by the roots in a cathartic crisis that leaves him as emotionally drained as the sex has left him physically weak. They fall to the floor, tangled in each other, both a little stunned at the force of everything.
“Bed?” Sebastian asks, but they can’t, they simply cannot move or even really talk, not that Kurt has any idea what they’d say if they could.
He’d just as soon leave it that way. Too many questions will lead places he doesn’t think he deserves to go and is certain Sebastian would never want to go anyway.
No. This is good. This is best.
He thinks. Maybe.
But now Kurt reaches over and smacks his hand. “It’s more than that. You’re actually giving a crap about my emotional well-being, Sebastian Smythe. You might have a heart after all.”
“Take it back,” he retorts, half out of reflex and half to cover up the fact that the sentiment makes him feel unaccountably…warm is the only way he can think to put it. Like his favorite old sweatshirt with the holes in the elbows that he’s had since he was fifteen. He doesn’t know what to do with that. “Don’t make me figure out a way to sue you for slander.”
But Kurt shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips, a mysteriously knowing look in his still-haunted eyes. “Never.” He doesn’t take his eyes off of Sebastian as he takes a long swallow of wine, and when he puts the glass down at last he looks like he’s searching for words. “Hey, Sebastian…”
“I’m happy I got to do this with you. As strange as it is that it is you of all people, I’m glad.” The wine glass is empty again and back down on the table now, but Kurt is fiddling with it, twirling the stem a little between his thumb and fingers. “It’s almost…oh, I don’t know. Sad, in a way, that there’s an expiration date on this.” And he does look sad about it. “But comforting, too. Is that weird?”
Sebastian, being generally used to being the one giving the it’s not you, it’s me speech, is surprised to recognize the familiar resigned regret threaded through those two words – though at least in Kurt’s case, it’s sincere resigned regret. Taken completely aback, he forces a smile and a short laugh. “Uh, maybe a little.”
“It’s just…I mean…” Now Kurt looks into the wine glass, as if he’s hoping the dregs of the Pinot are some sort of oracle that can help him with his little speech. “It’s nice to have fun with someone who isn’t a total stranger. Who cares about me in any way at all and makes sure I’m having a good time. It’s been so long…” He sighs. “Anyway. It’s good to know that there’s the security of knowing that even though it has to end, no one’s going to wind up hurt. This has been an experience I didn’t even know I needed…so thank you.”
It’s really surprising how large a disappointment it is, having it confirmed that he’s a transitory phase in Kurt’s life. Surprising to a degree that Sebastian doesn’t really care at all to examine. There shouldn’t be anything wrong with being temporary, it’s how he’s lived his entire life, he’s used to it by now…isn’t he?
Of course he is.
And he had wanted to know where he stood, now he does. It’s all good, really. “I completely agree. Fun without consequences is the best thing.”
Kurt’s smile is bright and happy, the cloud of his confession dissipating more swiftly with each passing moment. “It is sort of your specialty, right?”
And what a fool he had been to lose track of that for even one second.
Picture Message From Sebastian:
Message From Sebastian: Bring your sunscreen.
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