ACITW AU Chapter 25A
Okay, this chapter is becoming tremendously long. There’s a lot to it. This is the first part, and the second part is right on its heels (tonight or tomorrow). Drop me a line and let me know how you think it’s going so far.
At first, Kurt doesn’t know exactly what wakes him: the chill air coming in off the ocean, the low murmur of the party dying down, or the way Sebastian pulls him closer and holds him tight, not necessarily needing his warmth, though that very well may be, but needing him, needing Kurt and the security of Kurt’s body pressed against his so that he knows, even in sleep, that Kurt is there. Kurt blinks his eyes open, dry from the sand and the salty sea air, grit irritating his corneas until they burn and start to water. He lifts his head slightly and sweeps his eyes down the beach. The bandstands are vacant, some of them even packed up and lying in folded pieces on the sand, but there’s still music in the air, and Kurt raises his head a little higher in search of it. Near to where they are lying in the sand, a small tent city has been erected. A group of men sit around the comforting glow of a campfire, arms and blankets wrapped around one another, swaying and singing while one man among them strums a guitar. Kurt only catches the occasional lyric rising from the congregation, but he can tell that it’s not a pop song they’re singing, but a hymn - one in particular that he knows. He’s heard Mercedes sing it before; he just can’t quite recall the name of it.
The music wafts over them, soft and soothingly familiar, but those strains aren’t the lure that’s pulling him prematurely from his sleep.
It’s Sebastian, lying snuggled up behind him.
Complex, amazing, unexpectedly wonderful Sebastian.
Sebastian and his cynical attitude.
Sebastian and his infinite surprises.
Sebastian and the selfless way he has started to show Kurt how much he actually cares.
Sebastian and his gorgeous body that has a way of making Kurt feel things he never has before. Not with Blaine. Not with anybody. And not simply in a shallow aesthetic way, but with his warmth when he holds Kurt in his arms, with his hands that always seem to find Kurt’s hands without having to look for them, in the way their bodies nest against each other when they sleep, or the way they line up together almost perfectly. It’s a connection, another aspect that Kurt has begun to rely on. If he reaches out a hand, Sebastian will take it. If Kurt wraps his arms around Sebastian’s waist, Sebastian will reciprocate. It’s like every moment they’re together, they’re dancing, except this time neither of them is fighting to take the lead.
Kurt knows that his hair must be full of sand, that his clothes are probably ruined, and somewhere in his pants cum has dried on his skin, but he doesn’t care. For once he doesn’t give a damn because Sebastian is there, and Kurt wants him. He wants to feel and touch and kiss and be felt and touched and kissed. Last night, Sebastian opened a door, and now Kurt wants to push it open farther.
Kurt turns in Sebastian’s arms, and using his own body wrapped within his boyfriend’s embrace as leverage he rolls a still sleeping Sebastian onto his back; then climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. He looks down at Sebastian’s face, calm and peaceful, young and careless, no lines of worry, no walls erected. Kurt frowns slightly at Sebastian’s perfectly mussed bed head, roguishly handsome even when matted and clumped with sand, and shakes his head in mock disgust. Everything about Sebastian’s appearance is so effortless. It had taken Sebastian only thirty minutes to get ready for the evening, whereas Kurt had taken more than an hour, and now look at the two of them. Equally disheveled and sleeping on the beach. The only difference is Sebastian still manages to look like a Versace model. How can one boy be so lucky? A grin slowly spreads on Sebastian’s lips, even in sleep. It starts with a slight curl on the left-hand side of his mouth, which is mirrored a second later on the right. The resulting smile is lopsided and adorable, and Kurt can’t help himself. He leans over and kisses him.
Kurt feels Sebastian stirring, dry lips moving against his mouth, trying to form words. Sebastian’s eyelids flutter open, stopping the kiss only a second to get his bearings and erase his confusion, and then Sebastian is kissing him back, threading fingers through Kurt’s sand-dusted hair, a hand finding the small of his back and pulling him down close.
“Thank goodness,” Sebastian murmurs against Kurt’s lips, not breaking away for even a moment to speak. “I thought last night might have been a dream.”
“It wasn’t,” Kurt says, rubbing the tip of his nose against Sebastian’s nose, smiling when Sebastian’s mouth chases his for another kiss. “It’s me. I’m here.”
Sebastian stops the chase, his lips twisting into a fond smile.
“So you keep telling me,” he says.
“That’s because it’s true,” Kurt says, quietly but emphatically, “and maybe if I say it enough you won’t have a reason to worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Sebastian replies, and though his smile remains, Kurt can hear a twinge of uncertainty in his voice - not much, barely a touch, but it’s there nonetheless. Kurt wants to remove it - wants to scratch it out of Sebastian’s mind. He wants to be more for Sebastian, the way Sebastian has become more for him.
Kurt closes the space between them, kissing Sebastian gently, slowly exploring with his lips and the tip of his tongue around the contours of Sebastian’s mouth. He feels Sebastian relax beneath him, open up for him. Sebastian moans into Kurt’s mouth, and the sound, vibrating against his tongue and slipping down his throat, is intoxicating. One more moan and Kurt feels himself becoming drunk off of it. Sebastian wraps strong arms around him, and in his own subtle way he tries to take control. He tilts to the side, preparing to roll them over and switch their positions.
Kurt presses the flat of his palms against Sebastian’s shoulders and pushes him back down onto the sand, pulling away to enjoy the full effect of the startled expression on Sebastian’s face. Sebastian stares back, his eyes darkening from every kiss, his lips pursed, quietly asking for more. He shakes his head and those beckoning lips curl into the sly grin Kurt loves.
“What’s gotten into you, Hummel?” Sebastian asks, running his hands up and down Kurt’s back, bringing them boldly down over the swell of Kurt’s ass before returning up the length of Kurt’s spine. Well, Kurt would have considered it bold a month or so ago, but not now that they’re together. Not now when Kurt is so ready to give himself over to everything that is Sebastian Smythe.
Not now when he thinks he might be…
Kurt stops himself.
He’s not ready to admit that again.
“I think it’s the food,” Kurt teases, coming up with a lame joke as opposed to surrendering to an awkward and far too revealing silence. Sebastian rolls his eyes.
“What can I say?” Kurt jumps to his own defense. “I’m a sucker for a man that cooks.”
“Well, you know…” Sebastian runs his hands down Kurt’s thighs, massaging the muscles with firm fingers, “they say that clams and leeks are aphrodisiacs.”
Kurt’s face goes blank for a second, and then a simmer of indignation ignites in his eyes. He sits up straight, putting his hands on his hips, and for a moment Sebastian can’t tell if Kurt’s being overly dramatic or if he’s truly offended.
“So, is that why you dragged me out to those Godforsaken mud flats and got me filthy? Because you need an aphrodisiac to be with me?”
Sebastian sighs heavily. He reaches for Kurt’s arms, to tug Kurt back down on top of him, but Kurt sits up straight and stolid, leaning away from Sebastian’s hands and refusing to be moved. Sebastian gives in and sits up, groaning with the effort of forcing his stiff muscles to move and grabs Kurt around the waist before he can object. Sebastian holds his boyfriend tight in his lap as Kurt struggles
to put some distance between them. They sit nose to nose, with Sebastian’s hand at the back of Kurt’s head, keeping their gazes locked together.
“No,” Sebastian says softly, “I dragged you out there and got you filthy because I thought it would be hilarious...and I was right.”
Kurt, obviously anticipating a wholly different answer, gasps and turns away, but Sebastian laughs, trailing kisses down his neck, trying to find that one secret spot that will make Kurt stop struggling and simply melt.
“Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re an aphrodisiac,” Sebastian confesses, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the column of Kurt’s neck back up to his chin. “I don’t need anything to make me want to be with you. Dammit, I get hot just being around you. I’ve wanted this for so lo--…”
Sebastian freezes, stopping mid-speech, holding Kurt in his arms but otherwise not moving. Kurt feels the words absorb through his skin where Sebastian’s lips stay hovered against his pulse. His heart takes off beating like a gunshot in his chest, threatening to break free and ricochet around his ribcage any second. He snaps his head to look at Sebastian, but Sebastian pinches his lips together tight, snuffing out yet another confession.
Kurt is frozen, too, but deep inside he’s dying, burning with curiosity, another piece of the puzzle snatched away when it was so close, and this one could have been the key to unlocking the mysterious Sebastian Smythe and all his hidden motives.
The longer they sit petrified in the sand, the farther away the moment slips, and Kurt recognizes the point when it becomes completely irretrievable.
Kurt lets it go, heartbroken at the loss but willing to concede defeat for now.
He decides to try a different tactic.
Eyes still locked on Sebastian’s gaze, he gently pushes his boyfriend back down onto the sand, noting the way Sebastian’s mouth twitches in the corners when Kurt takes control, the way he fights the urge to kiss him and instead waits to see what Kurt is going to do. Kurt appreciates that Sebastian is willing to wait for him. That moment of submission bred from self-control really turns Kurt on.
Kurt lays his body over Sebastian’s in the same way Sebastian did hours before and starts to move, giving himself a moment to absorb the look of abandon and anguish coloring Sebastian’s face before he starts to kiss him again.
Kurt is trying his hand at seduction, at being sexy, so that these concepts will become synonymous with him every time Sebastian lays eyes on him. Kurt would do anything, pay almost any price to see himself through Sebastian’s eyes, but since he can’t, he decides to craft that image for himself. Mind over matter. If he sees himself as an erotic and enticing creature, he’ll become erotic and enticing.
Sebastian opens his legs wide for Kurt, bending them up at the knees to cage him in. Kurt’s movements over Sebastian’s body are slow and taunting, a taste of what he has in store when Sebastian finally decides to take things further.
From the desperate whimpers Kurt can hear escaping the back of Sebastian’s throat, the low moans every move elicits, Kurt becomes more confident that his plan is working. Sebastian’s body follows his, his erection growing as Kurt brushes against it, filling Kurt with a feeling of tremendous power.
There’s only one problem, a problem that becomes more imminent as his own erection starts to become harder and press against his jeans.
The sand. It’s everywhere. It’s crept into his pants and adhered to his skin, making every undulation feel like he’s rutting against sand paper. He tries not to care. He pushes it as far out of his mind as he can, but the stinging sensation against his sensitive skin tells him that he’s rubbing himself raw. He stifles every wince, gritting his teeth between kisses. He masks his pained whimpers with moans.
Sebastian tightens his grip on Kurt’s hips, and Kurt can feel how close he is by the way he rises up to meet every thrust. He whispers Kurt’s name after every brush, and Kurt, begging the fates above for Sebastian to cum, to come undone the way he did before with Kurt’s name tumbling from his lips, goes for broke. He rolls his hips down harder, but it’s too much for his irritated skin, and without meaning to, he hisses.
Sebastian’s body goes still beneath him, and Kurt’s entire ego deflates.
“Let me guess,” Sebastian says, breathless and with a hint of sarcasm (and possibly a shadow of what might be disappointment), “sand in your crotch?”
Kurt drops his head to Sebastian’s shoulder, unable to look into his lust-blown green eyes while he admits to his failure. He nods.
“I told you that sand would become a way of life.”
“Yeah,” Kurt mumbles into Sebastian’s shoulder. “Yeah, I remember.”
Kurt braces himself, preparing for whatever jeer Sebastian is about to make. Kurt would rather he didn’t, not about this, but he doesn’t mind, either. He reminds himself that he wants Sebastian the way he is, snarky remarks and all. Besides, Kurt can see the humor in this situation as much as the next guy. Hell, if their positions had been reversed, he would probably have the time of his life ribbing Sebastian for being caught with his dick covered in sand.
Sebastian doesn’t comment right away, and Kurt is eaten away by the suspense. The ego is such a fragile thing, and Kurt’s is about to be obliterated. He figures by the measure of Sebastian’s lengthy silence that whatever he’s planning to say will completely hit it out of the ball park.
“We could go skinny dipping,” Sebastian suggests. “Rinse off this fucking sand.”
Kurt’s head pops up from Sebastian’s shoulder. He waits for the other shoe to drop, for the real jabs to begin, but when Sebastian doesn’t say anything else, Kurt eyes him warily.
“That’s it?” Kurt asks, proceeding with caution out of morbid curiosity even though he knows he should probably keep his mouth shut.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What would you like me to say?” Sebastian says with a knowing wink. “I can’t really make fun of you for having sand down your pants when it’s happened to me more than once.”
Sebastian sits up and deposits Kurt undignified into the sand. Kurt watches Sebastian walk off a distance towards the water, unbuttoning his shirts as he goes, and that’s when the weight of Sebastian’s suggestion drops on him.
“Skinny…dipping?” Kurt repeats, calling after him. ”Wait! As in…” His words drift away with the ocean breeze, the music, the smell of smoke, and everything else ephemeral around them as he stares, lost in thought, mesmerized by the image of Sebastian peeling off his shirt, the unintentionally arousing way he lets the material slip off his shoulders and down his tan arms, but then he comes back to himself when he remembers that he should be doing the same. He hedges, biding his time to prolong the agony as long as possible. “As in, take off our clothes and swim in the ocean…naked?”
“Yeah, well that’s usually how it’s done,” Sebastian laughs, throwing his shirt over one shoulder and letting it hang there while he bends down to remove his shoes and socks. “What’s the big deal, Hummel? I’ve heard you’ve done it before.”
Yeah, Kurt has done it before, in a problematic attempt at doing something racy and spontaneous that resulted in a painful and humiliating bee sting on his ass. Kurt had originally put ‘skinny dipping’ on his bucket list because he thought it might spice up his and Blaine’s relationship to do something taboo. He wanted to show his boyfriend that he was a risk taker - that he was willing and ready to venture outside of his safe little world. As it turned out, looking was the only taboo they really indulged in that day; there was more giggling than kissing or touching going on in that secluded lake. Kurt had tried his best to impress Blaine, to be graceful and alluring, but he wasn’t quite as comfortable with his naked body in public as he wanted to be. All of his endeavors to channel his inner Esther Williams failed when he slipped on a wet patch of grass and landed on his ass on top of an unsuspecting bumble bee.
Not only did he leave the lake that day thoroughly red-faced with a bee-sized chink in his self-esteem, but he was also a murderer.
Kurt definitely gives himself credit for being a much different person than the one who got stung on the ass that day. He’s matured, become less vain, but some of his old insecurities still remain. When he looks at himself in the mirror there are a few ‘problem areas’ he’s not proud of, places that are softer than he would ultimately like, which he has learned to strategically camouflage with a well-placed belt or a deceptively tailored shirt.
Kurt admires Sebastian’s complete and utter confidence as he strips off his socks and starts on his pants. Sebastian’s eyes flick up and he notices Kurt sitting in the sand where he left him, watching him undress with what Kurt imagines to be an emotional hodgepodge of mostly horror and awe on his drawn face.
“You don’t have to worry about any of those drugged out hipsters watching us,” Sebastian reassures him, “and even if they do, I doubt if they’ll remember us by morning.”
Kurt nods his head, giving the impression that Sebastian’s words have assuaged all his fears, but it’s not the other people on the beach that Kurt’s worried about seeing him naked. It’s Sebastian. Sebastian, physically, is on a whole other level than most boys their age, far surpassing Kurt. Kurt tries to comfort himself that Sebastian has already seen him in only his underwear, and from what Kurt remembers of that experience Sebastian seemed to like what he saw. On another occasion, Sebastian made mention of Kurt being ‘all man’…despite his wardrobe, of course. But that was before - before this, before everything.
Practically glued to the sand beneath him, Kurt has to laugh at the irony of the situation. He wants Sebastian so badly, but how ready is he to move forward if he can’t even get naked in front of him?
Kurt stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt, determined to get over this hurdle. By the time Sebastian has stripped down to his briefs, Kurt is nearly still clothed, the only change being that his button-down shirt hangs open with the tails untucked.
Sebastian’s sly grin morphs into a look of extreme confusion as he regards Kurt from head to toe.
“Why don’t we go down closer to the water and away from the firelight?” Sebastian suggests, trying to suss out the cause of Kurt’s distress. “The shadows are darker down there. You don’t have to worry about anyone peeping on you.”
“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, making his way down the sandy slope to where the light from the fire barely reaches the water. They hide among the shadows and finish disrobing by one of the dismantled bandstands.
“Be careful with that bandage on your leg,” Sebastian reminds him. “Don’t tear it off when you take off your pants.”
Sebastian wastes no time at all stripping off his underwear and adding it to the pile of his carefully folded clothes. Kurt sees the movement but he doesn’t look. He finds himself at war with his raw, unabashed desire to peek, and the social constraints of politely keeping his eyes to himself. He figures he’ll casually divert his eyes when the time comes, but for now he’s completely submersed in the task of removing his clothes and not allowing his mounting inner anxiety to cause him to burst into flames. He feels his cheeks heat up while he takes off his jeans, bending at the waist and balancing precariously on one foot, then the other, so as not to drag his jeans through the wet sand. He feels himself tilt, his equilibrium jolt and he straightens up quickly to avoid collapsing in the sand.
That’s when he gets his first view of Sebastian, his skin illuminated by the moonlight and highlighted by the dim firelight all around, every inch of his glorious body on display. He watches Kurt with eyes unburdened by embarrassment or shame. Kurt doesn’t know what to do, how to act casually in the presence of this man who, with one look, has stolen his breath completely away.
Every dream he has ever had, every mental image he has conjured of what Sebastian might look like naked, pales drastically in comparison to the real thing. Kurt might have to force himself to believe in some kind of deity, if only temporarily, so he has someone to thank for the vision in front of him.
Kurt makes a private vow not to gawk, not to stare.
Sebastian’s eyes suddenly go dark, sparkling in the sparse light, and Kurt knows that, oh holy gay hell, regardless of his vow, he’s staring.
Sebastian smirks familiarly.
“You’re pretty jaw-dropping yourself there, princess.”
Kurt looks down the length of his body, and then at the pair of jeans dangling from his outstretched hand. He pulls his thoughts away from the stunning image of Sebastian’s naked body long enough to become aware of the fact that he’s completely naked as well, having fumbled his jeans in the panic of rescuing himself from a cringe-worthy fall.
As mortifying as being suddenly naked is, it’s the nickname that hits him like a sucker punch to the gut. He can usually ignore it, especially when it comes from Sebastian. Sometimes it even sounds endearing. On the times that it doesn’t, he’s found ways to make himself immune, but right now it’s a reminder of his faults, his insecurities laid bare.
“Can you…just not…call me ‘princess’?” Kurt stumbles through the request, the arm with the hand strangling his jeans winding subconsciously around his torso. “Not right now?”
Kurt’s eyes focus on the water, moving in shallow waves over the sand, so he doesn’t see Sebastian approach him. He doesn’t see the expression that bounces between hungry to sympathetic and back again on Sebastian’s face as he appraises his boyfriend’s body. Sebastian takes Kurt’s hand and pulls his arm down along with it, carefully unwinding the cocoon of limbs that Kurt constructed around his exposed body.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian says. The word sounds so foreign coming from Sebastian’s mouth that Kurt is almost tempted to ask him to repeat it. “You’re right. You’re not a princess. You are a man…a gorgeous man. Every inch of you…” Sebastian pauses a moment, letting his eyes blaze a path from Kurt’s hair to his jawline, down his neck and shoulders, over his chest to his hips and legs. When Sebastian’s gaze returns to Kurt’s eyes he leans forward and presses their foreheads together, “… and don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
Kurt’s mouth drops slightly, and Sebastian swoops in. He gathers Kurt up in his arms and kisses his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Kurt lets any hint of fear or embarrassment bleed away into that kiss. He wraps his arms around Sebastian’s body, nearly dropping his precious jeans into the water. This kiss is different, and Kurt wants to drown in the sensation of kissing Sebastian with every sinful inch of naked skin pressed hotly against his own - no barriers, no boundaries, no walls. With Sebastian bending him steadily backward to deepen the kiss, Kurt can feel everything. He feels the bulge of Sebastian’s biceps as his arms cradle Kurt securely. He feels Sebastian’s abs slide along his stomach as he leans over him. He feels the hair on Sebastian’s legs brushing against his own, mildly ticklish but sending sparks over his skin everywhere they touch.
He feels Sebastian’s length, hard and rising against his leg, meeting his own, sliding sensually beside it. Sebastian moves, pistoning in such a way that Kurt’s knees go weak. There’s no pain, no sting from the sand against his raw skin, only pure pleasure, and he breaks away from Sebastian’s kiss to cry out into the night.
“Ungh, Sebastian!” he moans, gripping hard to Sebastian’s shoulders.
“Oh, God! Kurt,” Sebastian moans in response, moving again, his lips latching on to the skin of Kurt’s neck and sucking sensually.
“Oh…” Kurt moans, squeezing his eyes shut, giving in to Sebastian and all the ways he can make him feel alive.
Unbeknownst to them, a few of the men from the nearby tent city decide to take a cue from them and start tearing off their clothes, tossing them willy-nilly into the sand, and racing for the water. The sudden onslaught of cheering voices and splashing water breaks the spell of Sebastian’s kiss, especially when a gush of salt water hits Kurt in the back.
“Holy shit, that’s cold!” Kurt screeches into Sebastian’s ear, and Sebastian groans in defeat when he feels his erection die. He laughs mirthlessly, glaring daggers at the drunken frolickers stumbling their way through the waves, kicking up more sand than water as they playfully wrestle amid the shallow swells.
Kurt turns his eyes in the direction that Sebastian’s death glare is aimed and sees another spray of water headed their way, this one threatening to decimate his jeans. He spins around, throwing Sebastian off-kilter, almost dragging them both into the water.
Sebastian eyes Kurt’s hand locked around the jeans, knuckles going white as he holds them high above his head. He rolls his eyes.
“I’m on it,” he murmurs, taking the jeans out of Kurt’s hand.
He folds Kurt’s jeans, and then takes it upon himself to wrap his own clothes around the rest of Kurt’s clothes to keep them safe. He tucks the bundle between the wooden slats of one of the more secluded bandstands to hide them.
Kurt starts off into the ocean alone, needing the frigid water swirling around his ankles to settle his body down. He felt the point when Sebastian’s hard-on died, and with his own erection long gone, he can’t handle thinking about almost cumming naked in Sebastian’s arms. It’s just too much right now.
He takes a few steps further out, until the sea foam bathes his knees, when a hand on his shoulder stops him.
“You don’t want to go too far,” Sebastian warns, taking Kurt’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “The waves here move parallel to the shore. You don’t want to get swept away.”
Kurt holds Sebastian’s hand tight, knowing it’s too late. He’s already been swept away.
At first, Kurt doesn’t know exactly what wakes him: the chill air coming in off the ocean, the low murmur of the party dying down, or the way Sebastian pulls him closer and holds him tight, not necessarily needing his warmth, though that very well may be, but needing him, needing Kurt and the security of Kurt’s body pressed against his so that he knows, even in sleep, that Kurt is there. Kurt blinks his eyes open, dry from the sand and the salty sea air, grit irritating his corneas until they burn and start to water. He lifts his head slightly and sweeps his eyes down the beach. The bandstands are vacant, some of them even packed up and lying in folded pieces on the sand, but there’s still music in the air, and Kurt raises his head a little higher in search of it. Near to where they are lying in the sand, a small tent city has been erected. A group of men sit around the comforting glow of a campfire, arms and blankets wrapped around one another, swaying and singing while one man among them strums a guitar. Kurt only catches the occasional lyric rising from the congregation, but he can tell that it’s not a pop song they’re singing, but a hymn - one in particular that he knows. He’s heard Mercedes sing it before; he just can’t quite recall the name of it.
The music wafts over them, soft and soothingly familiar, but those strains aren’t the lure that’s pulling him prematurely from his sleep.
It’s Sebastian, lying snuggled up behind him.
Complex, amazing, unexpectedly wonderful Sebastian.
Sebastian and his cynical attitude.
Sebastian and his infinite surprises.
Sebastian and the selfless way he has started to show Kurt how much he actually cares.
Sebastian and his gorgeous body that has a way of making Kurt feel things he never has before. Not with Blaine. Not with anybody. And not simply in a shallow aesthetic way, but with his warmth when he holds Kurt in his arms, with his hands that always seem to find Kurt’s hands without having to look for them, in the way their bodies nest against each other when they sleep, or the way they line up together almost perfectly. It’s a connection, another aspect that Kurt has begun to rely on. If he reaches out a hand, Sebastian will take it. If Kurt wraps his arms around Sebastian’s waist, Sebastian will reciprocate. It’s like every moment they’re together, they’re dancing, except this time neither of them is fighting to take the lead.
Kurt knows that his hair must be full of sand, that his clothes are probably ruined, and somewhere in his pants cum has dried on his skin, but he doesn’t care. For once he doesn’t give a damn because Sebastian is there, and Kurt wants him. He wants to feel and touch and kiss and be felt and touched and kissed. Last night, Sebastian opened a door, and now Kurt wants to push it open farther.
Kurt turns in Sebastian’s arms, and using his own body wrapped within his boyfriend’s embrace as leverage he rolls a still sleeping Sebastian onto his back; then climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. He looks down at Sebastian’s face, calm and peaceful, young and careless, no lines of worry, no walls erected. Kurt frowns slightly at Sebastian’s perfectly mussed bed head, roguishly handsome even when matted and clumped with sand, and shakes his head in mock disgust. Everything about Sebastian’s appearance is so effortless. It had taken Sebastian only thirty minutes to get ready for the evening, whereas Kurt had taken more than an hour, and now look at the two of them. Equally disheveled and sleeping on the beach. The only difference is Sebastian still manages to look like a Versace model. How can one boy be so lucky? A grin slowly spreads on Sebastian’s lips, even in sleep. It starts with a slight curl on the left-hand side of his mouth, which is mirrored a second later on the right. The resulting smile is lopsided and adorable, and Kurt can’t help himself. He leans over and kisses him.
Kurt feels Sebastian stirring, dry lips moving against his mouth, trying to form words. Sebastian’s eyelids flutter open, stopping the kiss only a second to get his bearings and erase his confusion, and then Sebastian is kissing him back, threading fingers through Kurt’s sand-dusted hair, a hand finding the small of his back and pulling him down close.
“Thank goodness,” Sebastian murmurs against Kurt’s lips, not breaking away for even a moment to speak. “I thought last night might have been a dream.”
“It wasn’t,” Kurt says, rubbing the tip of his nose against Sebastian’s nose, smiling when Sebastian’s mouth chases his for another kiss. “It’s me. I’m here.”
Sebastian stops the chase, his lips twisting into a fond smile.
“So you keep telling me,” he says.
“That’s because it’s true,” Kurt says, quietly but emphatically, “and maybe if I say it enough you won’t have a reason to worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Sebastian replies, and though his smile remains, Kurt can hear a twinge of uncertainty in his voice - not much, barely a touch, but it’s there nonetheless. Kurt wants to remove it - wants to scratch it out of Sebastian’s mind. He wants to be more for Sebastian, the way Sebastian has become more for him.
Kurt closes the space between them, kissing Sebastian gently, slowly exploring with his lips and the tip of his tongue around the contours of Sebastian’s mouth. He feels Sebastian relax beneath him, open up for him. Sebastian moans into Kurt’s mouth, and the sound, vibrating against his tongue and slipping down his throat, is intoxicating. One more moan and Kurt feels himself becoming drunk off of it. Sebastian wraps strong arms around him, and in his own subtle way he tries to take control. He tilts to the side, preparing to roll them over and switch their positions.
Kurt presses the flat of his palms against Sebastian’s shoulders and pushes him back down onto the sand, pulling away to enjoy the full effect of the startled expression on Sebastian’s face. Sebastian stares back, his eyes darkening from every kiss, his lips pursed, quietly asking for more. He shakes his head and those beckoning lips curl into the sly grin Kurt loves.
“What’s gotten into you, Hummel?” Sebastian asks, running his hands up and down Kurt’s back, bringing them boldly down over the swell of Kurt’s ass before returning up the length of Kurt’s spine. Well, Kurt would have considered it bold a month or so ago, but not now that they’re together. Not now when Kurt is so ready to give himself over to everything that is Sebastian Smythe.
Not now when he thinks he might be…
Kurt stops himself.
He’s not ready to admit that again.
“I think it’s the food,” Kurt teases, coming up with a lame joke as opposed to surrendering to an awkward and far too revealing silence. Sebastian rolls his eyes.
“What can I say?” Kurt jumps to his own defense. “I’m a sucker for a man that cooks.”
“Well, you know…” Sebastian runs his hands down Kurt’s thighs, massaging the muscles with firm fingers, “they say that clams and leeks are aphrodisiacs.”
Kurt’s face goes blank for a second, and then a simmer of indignation ignites in his eyes. He sits up straight, putting his hands on his hips, and for a moment Sebastian can’t tell if Kurt’s being overly dramatic or if he’s truly offended.
“So, is that why you dragged me out to those Godforsaken mud flats and got me filthy? Because you need an aphrodisiac to be with me?”
Sebastian sighs heavily. He reaches for Kurt’s arms, to tug Kurt back down on top of him, but Kurt sits up straight and stolid, leaning away from Sebastian’s hands and refusing to be moved. Sebastian gives in and sits up, groaning with the effort of forcing his stiff muscles to move and grabs Kurt around the waist before he can object. Sebastian holds his boyfriend tight in his lap as Kurt struggles
to put some distance between them. They sit nose to nose, with Sebastian’s hand at the back of Kurt’s head, keeping their gazes locked together.
“No,” Sebastian says softly, “I dragged you out there and got you filthy because I thought it would be hilarious...and I was right.”
Kurt, obviously anticipating a wholly different answer, gasps and turns away, but Sebastian laughs, trailing kisses down his neck, trying to find that one secret spot that will make Kurt stop struggling and simply melt.
“Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re an aphrodisiac,” Sebastian confesses, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the column of Kurt’s neck back up to his chin. “I don’t need anything to make me want to be with you. Dammit, I get hot just being around you. I’ve wanted this for so lo--…”
Sebastian freezes, stopping mid-speech, holding Kurt in his arms but otherwise not moving. Kurt feels the words absorb through his skin where Sebastian’s lips stay hovered against his pulse. His heart takes off beating like a gunshot in his chest, threatening to break free and ricochet around his ribcage any second. He snaps his head to look at Sebastian, but Sebastian pinches his lips together tight, snuffing out yet another confession.
Kurt is frozen, too, but deep inside he’s dying, burning with curiosity, another piece of the puzzle snatched away when it was so close, and this one could have been the key to unlocking the mysterious Sebastian Smythe and all his hidden motives.
The longer they sit petrified in the sand, the farther away the moment slips, and Kurt recognizes the point when it becomes completely irretrievable.
Kurt lets it go, heartbroken at the loss but willing to concede defeat for now.
He decides to try a different tactic.
Eyes still locked on Sebastian’s gaze, he gently pushes his boyfriend back down onto the sand, noting the way Sebastian’s mouth twitches in the corners when Kurt takes control, the way he fights the urge to kiss him and instead waits to see what Kurt is going to do. Kurt appreciates that Sebastian is willing to wait for him. That moment of submission bred from self-control really turns Kurt on.
Kurt lays his body over Sebastian’s in the same way Sebastian did hours before and starts to move, giving himself a moment to absorb the look of abandon and anguish coloring Sebastian’s face before he starts to kiss him again.
Kurt is trying his hand at seduction, at being sexy, so that these concepts will become synonymous with him every time Sebastian lays eyes on him. Kurt would do anything, pay almost any price to see himself through Sebastian’s eyes, but since he can’t, he decides to craft that image for himself. Mind over matter. If he sees himself as an erotic and enticing creature, he’ll become erotic and enticing.
Sebastian opens his legs wide for Kurt, bending them up at the knees to cage him in. Kurt’s movements over Sebastian’s body are slow and taunting, a taste of what he has in store when Sebastian finally decides to take things further.
From the desperate whimpers Kurt can hear escaping the back of Sebastian’s throat, the low moans every move elicits, Kurt becomes more confident that his plan is working. Sebastian’s body follows his, his erection growing as Kurt brushes against it, filling Kurt with a feeling of tremendous power.
There’s only one problem, a problem that becomes more imminent as his own erection starts to become harder and press against his jeans.
The sand. It’s everywhere. It’s crept into his pants and adhered to his skin, making every undulation feel like he’s rutting against sand paper. He tries not to care. He pushes it as far out of his mind as he can, but the stinging sensation against his sensitive skin tells him that he’s rubbing himself raw. He stifles every wince, gritting his teeth between kisses. He masks his pained whimpers with moans.
Sebastian tightens his grip on Kurt’s hips, and Kurt can feel how close he is by the way he rises up to meet every thrust. He whispers Kurt’s name after every brush, and Kurt, begging the fates above for Sebastian to cum, to come undone the way he did before with Kurt’s name tumbling from his lips, goes for broke. He rolls his hips down harder, but it’s too much for his irritated skin, and without meaning to, he hisses.
Sebastian’s body goes still beneath him, and Kurt’s entire ego deflates.
“Let me guess,” Sebastian says, breathless and with a hint of sarcasm (and possibly a shadow of what might be disappointment), “sand in your crotch?”
Kurt drops his head to Sebastian’s shoulder, unable to look into his lust-blown green eyes while he admits to his failure. He nods.
“I told you that sand would become a way of life.”
“Yeah,” Kurt mumbles into Sebastian’s shoulder. “Yeah, I remember.”
Kurt braces himself, preparing for whatever jeer Sebastian is about to make. Kurt would rather he didn’t, not about this, but he doesn’t mind, either. He reminds himself that he wants Sebastian the way he is, snarky remarks and all. Besides, Kurt can see the humor in this situation as much as the next guy. Hell, if their positions had been reversed, he would probably have the time of his life ribbing Sebastian for being caught with his dick covered in sand.
Sebastian doesn’t comment right away, and Kurt is eaten away by the suspense. The ego is such a fragile thing, and Kurt’s is about to be obliterated. He figures by the measure of Sebastian’s lengthy silence that whatever he’s planning to say will completely hit it out of the ball park.
“We could go skinny dipping,” Sebastian suggests. “Rinse off this fucking sand.”
Kurt’s head pops up from Sebastian’s shoulder. He waits for the other shoe to drop, for the real jabs to begin, but when Sebastian doesn’t say anything else, Kurt eyes him warily.
“That’s it?” Kurt asks, proceeding with caution out of morbid curiosity even though he knows he should probably keep his mouth shut.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What would you like me to say?” Sebastian says with a knowing wink. “I can’t really make fun of you for having sand down your pants when it’s happened to me more than once.”
Sebastian sits up and deposits Kurt undignified into the sand. Kurt watches Sebastian walk off a distance towards the water, unbuttoning his shirts as he goes, and that’s when the weight of Sebastian’s suggestion drops on him.
“Skinny…dipping?” Kurt repeats, calling after him. ”Wait! As in…” His words drift away with the ocean breeze, the music, the smell of smoke, and everything else ephemeral around them as he stares, lost in thought, mesmerized by the image of Sebastian peeling off his shirt, the unintentionally arousing way he lets the material slip off his shoulders and down his tan arms, but then he comes back to himself when he remembers that he should be doing the same. He hedges, biding his time to prolong the agony as long as possible. “As in, take off our clothes and swim in the ocean…naked?”
“Yeah, well that’s usually how it’s done,” Sebastian laughs, throwing his shirt over one shoulder and letting it hang there while he bends down to remove his shoes and socks. “What’s the big deal, Hummel? I’ve heard you’ve done it before.”
Yeah, Kurt has done it before, in a problematic attempt at doing something racy and spontaneous that resulted in a painful and humiliating bee sting on his ass. Kurt had originally put ‘skinny dipping’ on his bucket list because he thought it might spice up his and Blaine’s relationship to do something taboo. He wanted to show his boyfriend that he was a risk taker - that he was willing and ready to venture outside of his safe little world. As it turned out, looking was the only taboo they really indulged in that day; there was more giggling than kissing or touching going on in that secluded lake. Kurt had tried his best to impress Blaine, to be graceful and alluring, but he wasn’t quite as comfortable with his naked body in public as he wanted to be. All of his endeavors to channel his inner Esther Williams failed when he slipped on a wet patch of grass and landed on his ass on top of an unsuspecting bumble bee.
Not only did he leave the lake that day thoroughly red-faced with a bee-sized chink in his self-esteem, but he was also a murderer.
Kurt definitely gives himself credit for being a much different person than the one who got stung on the ass that day. He’s matured, become less vain, but some of his old insecurities still remain. When he looks at himself in the mirror there are a few ‘problem areas’ he’s not proud of, places that are softer than he would ultimately like, which he has learned to strategically camouflage with a well-placed belt or a deceptively tailored shirt.
Kurt admires Sebastian’s complete and utter confidence as he strips off his socks and starts on his pants. Sebastian’s eyes flick up and he notices Kurt sitting in the sand where he left him, watching him undress with what Kurt imagines to be an emotional hodgepodge of mostly horror and awe on his drawn face.
“You don’t have to worry about any of those drugged out hipsters watching us,” Sebastian reassures him, “and even if they do, I doubt if they’ll remember us by morning.”
Kurt nods his head, giving the impression that Sebastian’s words have assuaged all his fears, but it’s not the other people on the beach that Kurt’s worried about seeing him naked. It’s Sebastian. Sebastian, physically, is on a whole other level than most boys their age, far surpassing Kurt. Kurt tries to comfort himself that Sebastian has already seen him in only his underwear, and from what Kurt remembers of that experience Sebastian seemed to like what he saw. On another occasion, Sebastian made mention of Kurt being ‘all man’…despite his wardrobe, of course. But that was before - before this, before everything.
Practically glued to the sand beneath him, Kurt has to laugh at the irony of the situation. He wants Sebastian so badly, but how ready is he to move forward if he can’t even get naked in front of him?
Kurt stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt, determined to get over this hurdle. By the time Sebastian has stripped down to his briefs, Kurt is nearly still clothed, the only change being that his button-down shirt hangs open with the tails untucked.
Sebastian’s sly grin morphs into a look of extreme confusion as he regards Kurt from head to toe.
“Why don’t we go down closer to the water and away from the firelight?” Sebastian suggests, trying to suss out the cause of Kurt’s distress. “The shadows are darker down there. You don’t have to worry about anyone peeping on you.”
“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, making his way down the sandy slope to where the light from the fire barely reaches the water. They hide among the shadows and finish disrobing by one of the dismantled bandstands.
“Be careful with that bandage on your leg,” Sebastian reminds him. “Don’t tear it off when you take off your pants.”
Sebastian wastes no time at all stripping off his underwear and adding it to the pile of his carefully folded clothes. Kurt sees the movement but he doesn’t look. He finds himself at war with his raw, unabashed desire to peek, and the social constraints of politely keeping his eyes to himself. He figures he’ll casually divert his eyes when the time comes, but for now he’s completely submersed in the task of removing his clothes and not allowing his mounting inner anxiety to cause him to burst into flames. He feels his cheeks heat up while he takes off his jeans, bending at the waist and balancing precariously on one foot, then the other, so as not to drag his jeans through the wet sand. He feels himself tilt, his equilibrium jolt and he straightens up quickly to avoid collapsing in the sand.
That’s when he gets his first view of Sebastian, his skin illuminated by the moonlight and highlighted by the dim firelight all around, every inch of his glorious body on display. He watches Kurt with eyes unburdened by embarrassment or shame. Kurt doesn’t know what to do, how to act casually in the presence of this man who, with one look, has stolen his breath completely away.
Every dream he has ever had, every mental image he has conjured of what Sebastian might look like naked, pales drastically in comparison to the real thing. Kurt might have to force himself to believe in some kind of deity, if only temporarily, so he has someone to thank for the vision in front of him.
Kurt makes a private vow not to gawk, not to stare.
Sebastian’s eyes suddenly go dark, sparkling in the sparse light, and Kurt knows that, oh holy gay hell, regardless of his vow, he’s staring.
Sebastian smirks familiarly.
“You’re pretty jaw-dropping yourself there, princess.”
Kurt looks down the length of his body, and then at the pair of jeans dangling from his outstretched hand. He pulls his thoughts away from the stunning image of Sebastian’s naked body long enough to become aware of the fact that he’s completely naked as well, having fumbled his jeans in the panic of rescuing himself from a cringe-worthy fall.
As mortifying as being suddenly naked is, it’s the nickname that hits him like a sucker punch to the gut. He can usually ignore it, especially when it comes from Sebastian. Sometimes it even sounds endearing. On the times that it doesn’t, he’s found ways to make himself immune, but right now it’s a reminder of his faults, his insecurities laid bare.
“Can you…just not…call me ‘princess’?” Kurt stumbles through the request, the arm with the hand strangling his jeans winding subconsciously around his torso. “Not right now?”
Kurt’s eyes focus on the water, moving in shallow waves over the sand, so he doesn’t see Sebastian approach him. He doesn’t see the expression that bounces between hungry to sympathetic and back again on Sebastian’s face as he appraises his boyfriend’s body. Sebastian takes Kurt’s hand and pulls his arm down along with it, carefully unwinding the cocoon of limbs that Kurt constructed around his exposed body.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian says. The word sounds so foreign coming from Sebastian’s mouth that Kurt is almost tempted to ask him to repeat it. “You’re right. You’re not a princess. You are a man…a gorgeous man. Every inch of you…” Sebastian pauses a moment, letting his eyes blaze a path from Kurt’s hair to his jawline, down his neck and shoulders, over his chest to his hips and legs. When Sebastian’s gaze returns to Kurt’s eyes he leans forward and presses their foreheads together, “… and don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
Kurt’s mouth drops slightly, and Sebastian swoops in. He gathers Kurt up in his arms and kisses his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Kurt lets any hint of fear or embarrassment bleed away into that kiss. He wraps his arms around Sebastian’s body, nearly dropping his precious jeans into the water. This kiss is different, and Kurt wants to drown in the sensation of kissing Sebastian with every sinful inch of naked skin pressed hotly against his own - no barriers, no boundaries, no walls. With Sebastian bending him steadily backward to deepen the kiss, Kurt can feel everything. He feels the bulge of Sebastian’s biceps as his arms cradle Kurt securely. He feels Sebastian’s abs slide along his stomach as he leans over him. He feels the hair on Sebastian’s legs brushing against his own, mildly ticklish but sending sparks over his skin everywhere they touch.
He feels Sebastian’s length, hard and rising against his leg, meeting his own, sliding sensually beside it. Sebastian moves, pistoning in such a way that Kurt’s knees go weak. There’s no pain, no sting from the sand against his raw skin, only pure pleasure, and he breaks away from Sebastian’s kiss to cry out into the night.
“Ungh, Sebastian!” he moans, gripping hard to Sebastian’s shoulders.
“Oh, God! Kurt,” Sebastian moans in response, moving again, his lips latching on to the skin of Kurt’s neck and sucking sensually.
“Oh…” Kurt moans, squeezing his eyes shut, giving in to Sebastian and all the ways he can make him feel alive.
Unbeknownst to them, a few of the men from the nearby tent city decide to take a cue from them and start tearing off their clothes, tossing them willy-nilly into the sand, and racing for the water. The sudden onslaught of cheering voices and splashing water breaks the spell of Sebastian’s kiss, especially when a gush of salt water hits Kurt in the back.
“Holy shit, that’s cold!” Kurt screeches into Sebastian’s ear, and Sebastian groans in defeat when he feels his erection die. He laughs mirthlessly, glaring daggers at the drunken frolickers stumbling their way through the waves, kicking up more sand than water as they playfully wrestle amid the shallow swells.
Kurt turns his eyes in the direction that Sebastian’s death glare is aimed and sees another spray of water headed their way, this one threatening to decimate his jeans. He spins around, throwing Sebastian off-kilter, almost dragging them both into the water.
Sebastian eyes Kurt’s hand locked around the jeans, knuckles going white as he holds them high above his head. He rolls his eyes.
“I’m on it,” he murmurs, taking the jeans out of Kurt’s hand.
He folds Kurt’s jeans, and then takes it upon himself to wrap his own clothes around the rest of Kurt’s clothes to keep them safe. He tucks the bundle between the wooden slats of one of the more secluded bandstands to hide them.
Kurt starts off into the ocean alone, needing the frigid water swirling around his ankles to settle his body down. He felt the point when Sebastian’s hard-on died, and with his own erection long gone, he can’t handle thinking about almost cumming naked in Sebastian’s arms. It’s just too much right now.
He takes a few steps further out, until the sea foam bathes his knees, when a hand on his shoulder stops him.
“You don’t want to go too far,” Sebastian warns, taking Kurt’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “The waves here move parallel to the shore. You don’t want to get swept away.”
Kurt holds Sebastian’s hand tight, knowing it’s too late. He’s already been swept away.