Title: Stranded Starfish Have No Place To Hide
Author: GlassParade (aka Glitterdammerung on Tumblr)
Beta: Tina (Idoltina on Tumblr, with bonus cheerleading from a WHOLE bunch of very lovely people, you know who you are and I thank you so much)
Pairing: Sebastian Smythe and Kurt Hummel
Spoilers: None, future-fic.
Word Count: 4100+
Summary: How do you let go of something that’s strangled you for so long?
Author’s Note: Sorry this one took forever! I got a little sick, and things were a little weird, and then Tina and I had WORDS about this one, you guys (cheerleading readers, things are going to be a bit different than what you remember!), but here it is and I hope it’s worth the wait. Title from ‘Here Comes The Flood’ by Peter Gabriel.
Europe Is Our Playground ‘verse:
Paris | Prague | Copenhagen | Barcelona | Amsterdam | Gibraltar | Venice | Dublin | and so we travel onward…
Message From Sebastian: How’s Dublin? Still Irish?
Message From Kurt: I’m not in Dublin.
Message From Sebastian: Wow, you figured that out WAY faster than I thought you would.
Message From Sebastian: Wait. That sounded bad. Let me try again.
Message From Sebastian: Fantastic! I can’t wait to see you. Excellent detective skills.
“Sit here,” Kurt directs, breaking off their kiss to shove Sebastian down into the chair in their hotel room. He leans down, mischief bright in his eyes as he licks his lips. “And stayhere.”
He’s got to admit, bossy Kurt is kind of his favorite Kurt. “Is that an order?”
Kurt pulls back and tilts his head, ostentatiously pretending to consider the question. “Hm. Yes.” Leaning back in, he’s just close enough to flick his tongue out and lick the tip of Sebastian’s nose – and does. “Or I’ll tie you down.”
Holy shit, Sebastian thinks. What the hell’s gotten into Kurt?
Whatever it is, his cock’s been stretched tight against the restriction of his jeans since Kurt leaned across their dinner table not fifteen minutes ago and said, “You know, the sooner you finish your coffee, the sooner we can go upstairs and fuck.”
Message From Sebastian: For the record, I do think you’re smart.
Message From Sebastian: I just thought Thessaloniki was going to be at least a LITTLE tricky to guess.
Message From Kurt: Actually, I’m in Munich.
Message From Kurt: I figured out that it had to be somewhere along the southern coast of Europe so I got a head start. I was about to ask you for the next clue.
Message From Kurt: I had NO idea how fast you could dig yourself into a hole. Impressive. You’ve really improved with age.
Message From Sebastian: DAMN IT.
Message From Kurt: So did you just want to go ahead and book my flight for me while you’re on a roll?
It takes a minute for Sebastian to realize he’s stopped breathing as he watches Kurt sidle backwards towards the bed, still smirking, still bright-eyed, still riding whatever dizzy high he’s been on for hours. A nearly frenetic energy all but leaps off of his smooth, pale skin when he unbuttons his shirt and peels it away from his body, tossing it to the floor before his hands fly to the waistband of his loose trousers.
Sebastian only gets to hitch in one breath before it freezes in his lungs again when he realizes that Kurt didn’t wear briefs under his pants. How had he missed that?
Kurt’s thumbs skim inside the waistband, his smile silky with satisfaction. “Mm. You do like what you see.” It’s not a question.
“Always,” Sebastian croaks out, his hips shifting up, the delicious friction of his boxers and jeans a pleasure-pain-joy-agony he revels in. “You know that. You know.”
“I do.” A deft flick of his fingers and the buttons undone, the trousers slumping a little down to show off a slip of arrowlike hipbones, a lickable incurving of stomach. Another pull and the zipper’s open, the linen puddled next to the shirt on the floor, and Kurt’s gloriously nude in front of him. The cock Sebastian likes so well stands thick and darkly rose-colored, illuminated in the moonlight splashing across Kurt’s abdomen. “Don’t move.”
Suddenly, Sebastian is blisteringly aware of what’s about to happen. His mouth goes dry, and his fingers flex, gripping harder into the plush arms of the chair.
Kurt sees it, and Kurt laughs in delight.
They’ve been in Greece together for two days, much of which time has been spent napping on the beach and swimming in the Aegean Sea.
“I wouldn’t have picked you for the beach type.” Sebastian’s confession is muffled into his arm as he dozes under their sun umbrella. “I was kind of selfish picking this place. Well, I thought I was.”
“I picked Gibraltar,” Kurt reminds him while he reapplies his sunscreen. “Beaches and I came to an agreement at my first Fire Island circuit parties.”
One amused green eye sleepily opens, and Kurt catches half a smile peeking out from behind Sebastian’s bicep. “Really?”
“Mmhm.” Picking up his phone, Kurt clicks the camera on, framing a pretty panoramic view of the sand and water – with the added bonus of a Speedo-clad Adonis beaming into the lens when he catches Kurt taking the picture. Kurt smiles and nods at the guy. “Bathing in sunscreen and moisturizer seems a small price to pay for the scenery.”
“Perv.” Still grinning, Sebastian closes his eyes again.
Kurt can only snort. “My, Mr. Pot, aren’t we a glossy shade of black today?”
But Sebastian’s only response is a yawn as he drifts back off to sleep.
He’s only allowed to look. He can’t touch. Not himself, not Kurt. Sebastian’s world is the chair in which he sits and the sight of Kurt sprawled out on their bed, one arm behind his head as the other lazily strokes at his cock.
He really, really likes this world. It is a painful world, but it is a good one.
A lust-shaded sigh of contentment slides out of Kurt’s mouth on a dirty exhalation, the only other sound besides Sebastian’s breathing and the slick of hand on lube-covered cock. He has no idea how Kurt can go so slowly, how he can draw this out. Sebastian himself is ready to come, has been for too many long tortuous minutes already.
“Is it like you imagined?” Kurt’s voice is a lovely little tease, affectionate and evil all in one. “Is it what you pictured?”
His mouth is so dry, Sebastian still can’t really talk. “Better.” As it would be, gorgeous Kurt stretched out in front of him in reality will always top anything his head can think of.
It’s going to make it so fucking miserable when they finally go their separate ways.
“Mm. Like having your mouth on me would be better than my hand?” The question comes with a slow wink, and – was that an invitation? Sebastian pushes himself up out of the chair, just a little, just slightly.
“I could -”
“No.” The steely command shoves Sebastian back into his chair as effectively as a hand on his chest. “You watch.”
With a sigh that’s as fond as it is mildly exasperated, Kurt slips his sunglasses on and reclines back on his elbows, in theory watching the other beachgoers as they gleam in the sun. The reality is that he’s watching Sebastian out of the corner of his eye, admiring the long stretch of his back, his strong calves, the gloss of suntan lotion on his skin. Sunshine agrees more easily with Sebastian than with Kurt, kissing his shoulders with a dusting of appealing freckles as it turns the rest of him the warm golden brown of sunbeams on the sand at the end of the day.
Knowing quite intimately that Sebastian prefers to tan naked, it had surprised Kurt at first to see him in board shorts rather than something with less coverage. But he is, after all, not only human but himself, so he came quickly to appreciate the tease of the shorts, the way their low sling reveals peeks and glimpses of hipbone, how the way they drape loosely over the swell of Sebastian’s toned ass.
Oops. Kurt shifts and feels his cheeks redden as his cock picks up on the increasingly lecherous slant of his thoughts. Time for another dip in the sea. Without thinking, he drops a kiss on Sebastian’s sun-warmed shoulder and gets to his feet.
Kurt wades out until the water is lapping at his thighs and cool around his toes and then curves into a surface dive, slicing his way through the Aegean like a bullet. Back home in New York, he enjoys long, head-clearing sessions of lap swimming at his gym four times a week, a practice he was skeptical about for a while as a boy raised in landlocked Ohio.
But now it’s as meditative as yoga, the easy stroke and slip through the water, as necessary and automatic as breathing to him in these last couple of years as his career took off and his personal life crumbled to pieces. Kurt rolls and cuts through the sea, surfacing here, diving there, forgetting that there’s no pool wall to stop him and make him turn around.
“What would you do right now if I let you?”
The question fights to get through to Sebastian’s brain, and since all of his blood seems to have gathered at points way further south, it stalls there, answerless. And things only get worse as he watches Kurt pull his knees up, smirking as he still strokes his cock, but – fuck fuck fuck – then he trails his other hand down from behind his head and over to the bottle of lube, tipping it into his hand in a deft gesture that dribbles the liquid into his palm. And he keeps watchingSebastian while he slides his fingers down between his thighs, between the cheeks of his ass, trailing his long middle finger over the puckered skin of his hole, making it glossy with the lube.
“Sebastian?” Oh, he’s so smug. Sebastian’s fingers ache with how hard they’re gripping the chair, all that’s keeping him down.
Never mind how much his cock hurts right now. “I’d kiss you,” he starts, the words rough with how badly he wants to do more than that. “I’d have your cock in my hand and my mouth on yours and I’d kiss you while you fucked your cock through my fist.”
The tip of Kurt’s finger dips into his hole and another of those decadent sighs escapes before he closes his eyes and bites his lips, inhaling deep while his finger slowly presses inward. “Would you blow me?”
“Honestly, babe,” Sebastian tosses back as lightly as he can, given that he’s about two minutes from coming in his jeans, “you’d be lucky if I really did get as far as kissing you before I started fucking you.”
He has to tread water when he finally stops, so far out that when he lifts his arms over his head and exhales to force himself back under, he can’t get far enough down to even let his toes scrape the sea floor. There’s no one anywhere close to him when he surfaces, either, people like specks in the distance, or maybe ants. Good. Kurt rolls onto his back in a float, heaving out a sigh of contentment as he idly kicks his feet to propel his body back to the shore, slow and lazy.
His mind is less lazy, bringing up and turning over the question of Sebastian in a puzzling loop of wistful longing and wariness.
Kurt knows that sooner than he’d like, this is going to have to stop. He’s starting to get increasingly irritated emails from Tina, pointing out that she can’t design the spring line by herself. Rachel sends texts sometimes, her words as ever managing to seem wistful and passive aggressive all at once – I miss you, if you don’t come home soon you’ll miss my next show opening – and even his father called and left a voicemail on his cell phone the night before while they were at dinner.
It’s been an unforgettable, unregrettable several weeks. But as he pointed out himself, it does have an expiration date.
He should probably figure out what that date is before he gets in over his head.
“Kurt.” Sebastian will notbeg, but Jesus fucking Christhe can’t take any more. Not another minute of Kurt’s little groans as he fucks himself on his fingers, pushing them up into himself with a rhythm as lazy as the hand on his cock. Not another minute of half-lidded eyes and hitching breaths, not another minute of hips flexing up, of toes curling into the soft white sheets.
Sebastian is half blind with lust as he lurches up out of the chair, yanking his t-shirt up over his head as he stumbles towards the bed and Kurt’s wide eyed surprise. And he doesn’t bother to take his jeans off, just rips the button fly open and pulls his painfully hard cock out as he climbs up the mattress. One hand curls around a happily convenient condom packet even as he’s kicking his sandals off, the wrapper a metallic tick on his tongue as he uses his teeth to rip it open.
The fist-fucking doesn’t happen, but he does get to wreck Kurt’s mouth in a kiss that rips the breath out of both of them seconds before he’s got the condom on and his cock pushing hard into the slick, ready heat of Kurt’s ass.
Floating out in the sun-warmed sea, Kurt thinks, and at the same time, he doesn’t, really.
He admits that sometimes, yes, he’s started to wonder what moremight be like. If it could even be remotely possible. There are moments when it’s appealing, even feels natural - when he’s running his fingers through Sebastian’s hair when he feels troubled, or when he kisses Sebastian goodbye without thinking twice.
Sometimes, too, he thinks it could go both ways, wonders at the things Sebastian does and says. But never too hard, never too close, it’s easy to dismiss as imagining things because come on, it’s Sebastian. Kurt’s pretty sure that whatever they have going on is the longest Sebastian’s stuck around anyone, and he’s equally sure it has to be in part because it does have to end. Commitment without limits has never struck him as Sebastian’s style.
The fact, of course, that they have incredible sex is also undoubtedly a huge part of the draw for Sebastian. It certainly is for Kurt. It would almost be worth trying to coax Sebastian into the anathema of a – horror! - serious relationship, actually, it’s so good.
If he felt like he deserved it.
His jeans are tight around his thighs as he drives into Kurt, his breath almost sobbing out with each thrust. He’s lasting longer than he thought he would, helped by the condom, but Kurt sounds like he’s seconds away from going over. “Fuck,” he babbles in a hiss, his fingernails sinking into Sebastian’s back while he arches his neck up for kisses. “Fuck, yes, give it -”
“Don’t come,” Sebastian orders suddenly, thrusting in one hard motion and stopping, pushing himself back up to enjoy the look of frustrated shock on Kurt’s face. “Oh, what, two can’t play this game?”
Kurt’s hands, now resting on Sebastian’s forearms, flex and then sharp little crescents burn bright spots of pain into his wrists. “I could kill you.”
“You won’t.” As slowly as he can manage – not terribly, given how close he actually is for real now – Sebastian starts moving his hips in idle circles, the buttons on his jeans pressing red spots into the back of Kurt’s thigh. He feels as high as Kurt seems to be, the dizzying tingle of delirium catching and infecting his thoughts. “You made me wait. I’m just trying to play fair.”
A harsh laugh barks out of Kurt’s mouth. “Do you even know the meaning of the word?”
“About as well as you do,” Sebastian smirks, enjoying himself to the hilt. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you when you can come. It won’t take long.”
Because that’s the catch.
The specter of Blaine is always there, hurt and confused. There’s no way to forget the look on his face when Kurt finally had to sit him down and say, I can’t do this to you anymore.
Or the answering, Until right now I didn’t know you were doing anything to me.
Kurt rolls and dives down under the water’s surface like it’s possible to outrun memories and ghosts. The deeper he pushes down, the cooler and darker it gets, the more it feels like a different world. A world where he doesn’t beat himself to death with blame for what happened. A world with possibility, where he can throw off his self-imposed burden.
There’s a little voice at the back of his mind, one he hasn’t heard in years. A voice that’s been getting louder since Dublin, a voice that keeps insisting, the real world is actually like that, if you let it.
His lungs feel like they could burst, but he keeps swimming, relishing the ache in his muscles and head and chest. How can it be when I can’t forget what I’ve done?
That heartbreakingly familiar chuckle.No one said you had to forget. You just have to forgive.
There’s a flicker in the water ahead, and he can almost see Blaine, a younger Blaine, a Blaine who ran, whose self-loathing Kurt knows nearly as well as his own. Yourself, teenage Blaine says, a soft warm smile of forgiveness on his imagined face before he winks out and leaves only his voice behind. Before it drowns you.
And then Kurt is alone again with his surprise and a heart that’s loosening from a knot that had been tied too tight, too long.
In this, at least, he can be true to his word.
Neither one of them can speak now, they can only grin into each other’s mouths, happy and cocky and hyperactive as they bump around and try to kiss between Sebastian’s thrusts. It’s notlong, he can feel the heat climbing hand over hand up his spine, the clench of Kurt around his cock, the energybetween them both.
It’s good, it’s so damn good, Sebastian loves it, loves these moments, this feeling, the heat and sweat and laughter and the knowledge that two people can never be closer than this. It’s never anything he’s ever looked for and now he has no idea how he can ever let it go.
Never mind, doesn’t matter, no he’s coming, coming hard and it’s all he can do to choke out, “Kurt – come – please -”
When he surfaces, he shoots like an arrow out of the water and bobs for a moment, pushing his hair back off of his face, wiping the salt water out of his eyes. His fingernails dig into his palms when his fists clench tight, opening little wounds that the salt burns but he doesn’t really feel. What he does feel is the ring that hangs so heavy around his neck even when he isn’t wearing it. Even now, it’s way back on the shore, yet Kurt almost feels it dark and weighty against the skin over his heart, pushing him down into the water.
For the first time, he’s seized with the irresistible urge to push back.
“Didn’t you just say yourself that both of you forgot the anniversary?”
Sebastian’s question from that intense first night in Ireland is like the domino at the front of a line.
“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you do, nature’s gonna take its course.”
There’s the second domino.
“Two years is a long damn time to hate yourself that much.”
The line starts to fall.
Turning around, Kurt reaches out and begins to stroke for shore with a resolve as terrifying as it is welcome.
They disengage and Kurt winks playfully before rolling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. “Sorry for wrecking your plan,” Sebastian calls after him as he yanks off his jeans.
“No, you’re not,” is the floating, cheerfully sarcastic reply and, okay, no, he’s not. Sebastian can’t help the grin he feels stretching across his face as he absently trails his fingers over his chest, drawing formless pictures on his skin while he comes down from their shared high.
He doesn’t really know all of what happened to Kurt out in the sea today. Something big and profound, no doubt – that’s obvious from the aftermath, the hours long stretch of time with Kurt humming and bouncing and being a fucking teaseat dinner, God, he was maddening in the way that Sebastian likes best, all his little innuendos and sarcastic cracks – but he feels like it’s too soon to ask, and maybe he wouldn’t have the right anyway.
It’s enough to know it has to do with Blaine.
“…eh? Kurt?” Sebastian wakes up blinking in confusion when Kurt drops back down to their shared towel, dripping wet and getting sand everywhere.
Kurt doesn’t look at him. “I need to do something.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Sebastian turn over and sit up. “Sure. Okay. Need my help?”
“No.” Reaching for the beach bag, he digs around in it until he gets his fingers on the cool metal chain. The ring is never, ever left behind, not even in a hotel room safe. He always has it in a pocket, or his wallet, or his satchel. Always near, always burning with memories and guilt. “Well. Moral support, maybe.”
“Sure, okay,” Sebastian says again, looking cautious and confused. “Whatever you need.”
Kurt slips the smooth platinum band over his index finger and rubs it, spinning it in a slow circle around his knuckle. Things are fitting together in his mind, slotting into place like a key in an ignition, and the giddiness of his rawly new freedom is starting to bubble up through his veins, flooding his body with an electric buzz.
He has ideas. Plans. Things he wants to do.
“I want to do something in the next city,” Kurt announces as he flops back into the bed, completely adorable and irresistible with the sunshine beam of his smile. “Something new.”
“Aw, is the bloom off the rose already? I’m hurt.” But he’s not, really, no, more than anything he’s fascinated and pleased to see this Kurt who seems to have somehow written himself a whole new lease on his life. It makes him even more intriguing than before, in a way. “What do you want?”
Kurt’s smile turns impish, crinkling his nose a little while his eyes sparkle. “Trust me to surprise you?”
“You seem to be on a roll with it lately, so why not?” With anyone else it would be a decision he considers reckless, but Sebastian has come to trust Kurt in these last weeks. “Will I like it?”
Rolling onto his back, Kurt stretches out, wiggling his toes and fingers, the smile on his face beaming brighter yet more mysterious by the second. “Oh, I think so.”
Feeling lighter than he has in much too long, Kurt lunges over and tackles Sebastian to the towel, enjoying the bubbly feel of joy in his mouth as he sucks his lover into a greedy, selfish kiss. “Kurt,” Sebastian laughs, pulling back for a second, eyes bright as he looks Kurt over. “You feeling okay?”
“I absolutely am.” He feels high, sharper than the pot-high of Amsterdam, dizzy and whirling. Dipping his head back down, he holds Sebastian’s face between his hands and brings their lips together again, dragging his teeth along Sebastian’s bottom lip when he pulls back. “Oh, yes.”
“You, uh, heh…you don’t really need moral support to make out with me, Kurt. I think you’ve kind of got that down.” Sebastian’s tone is wry as he pushes himself upright, bringing his own hand up to lay it along Kurt’s jawline, his thumb stroking Kurt’s cheekbone. He has his familiar amused, skeptical look on his face but far back in his eyes Kurt can see genuine concern – and that shadowy something that makes him wonder again if the moremight maybe work both ways, at least a little… “What’s going on?”
He shoves down the flight of fiery butterflies that ignites in his stomach – this isn’t serious, he reminds himself, it’s Sebastian, Sebastian doesn’t do serious, besides it’s enough right now to be free – and nods, trailing his hands down along Sebastian’s warm shoulders and arms, slick with suntan lotion and gritty with sand. “Nothing. Everything.” One more burning kiss leaves them both breathless. “You’ll see. I’ll show you.”
Sebastian is half-asleep when Kurt takes off a few days later, still almost vibrating with excitement as they kiss goodbye. He hasn’t elaborated on whatever has him so amped, and by now Sebastian is all but dying of a curiosity he’s having to work harder and harder to hold back.
The message lands on his phone later the same afternoon while he’s poking at a plate of mizithropitakia, too wound up to eat.
Picture Message From Kurt:
Message From Kurt: So when you get here…I was wondering if you’d like to explore the old adage, ‘three’s company’?
Does that mean what Sebastian thinks it means? He reads it again, and again, and it does seem fairly plain. Huh.
Of all the things he ever even vaguely expected out of Kurt Hummel, that…nope, that had not at all been one of them.
This is a surprise.