ACITW AU CHAPTER 25B
I promised a second part soon, and here it is. I hope you all enjoy it. I toyed a little with hints of Sebastian’s POV. (For those of you who were confused by my teasers, this is the chapter with the D&D conversation and the Mustang make-out ;) )
Step by step Sebastian draws Kurt into the water, picking his way around the soft, shifting sand, and testing the ground first before signaling for Kurt to follow. Every so often he looks back and smiles encouragingly, tempting Kurt with the lure of his eyes, green irises growing darker as the moonlight passes over them. Sebastian takes them out a distance from the shore - far enough to be free of the roaming band of imbeciles, stopping where the swells reach no higher than their waists. Reluctant to release his hold on Kurt’s hand, Sebastian keeps their fingers laced together as he crouches down and dips below the water’s surface, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair to loosen the sand. Sebastian emerges with a wicked smile on his lips and he shakes his head like a dog, drizzling Kurt with water. Kurt laughs, turning his head to avoid the spray. He escapes by ducking down below the water, rinsing the sand from his body and hair. He feels fingers that aren’t his own card through his hair, working out the knots and the mats, fingertips massaging his scalp and scrubbing away the sand.
Sebastian’s hand in Kurt’s hair is cathartic; it frees Kurt of more than simply the bothersome sand lodged in places he’d rather not mention. That’s because everything about Sebastian is safe. Kurt doesn’t always have to be the adult; he doesn’t always have to be the one in charge and in control. Kurt could relax in the water and let Sebastian touch him like that forever, but his oxygen deprived lungs disagree and he breaks through the surface of the water, sucking in a deep breath.
“I was getting nervous there for a second,” Sebastian says, releasing Kurt’s hand so he can better rub the water from his eyes. “We breathe air, you know, babe, not water.”
“I know…” Kurt coughs as he takes another breath, “but I didn’t want you to stop. You’re too good at that.”
“I’m not all good, you know.” Sebastian winds his arms back around Kurt’s body and presses against him.
“I know,” Kurt whispers, resting his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder, hugging Sebastian back, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
The sea nettle sting burns beneath his bandage, but Kurt finds it easy to ignore with Sebastian’s arms wrapped protectively around him. Kurt can get addicted to being held like this, naked beneath the moonlight. He leans back and stretches his neck to accommodate Sebastian’s lips, their heat welcome against his chilled, wet skin. The water circles them, a conduit between their bodies. Here in Sebastian’s arms, Kurt feels buoyant, light. The water pulls at him but Sebastian is his anchor. The ocean is a formidable force of nature but Kurt has nothing to fear. He’s safe as long as he’s in Sebastian’s arms.
“I think that skinny dipping implies something wholly different than what we’re doing,” Kurt says offhandedly, bringing a hand up behind Sebastian’s head and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Do you want me to let you go so you can swim?” Sebastian asks, latching onto the juncture between Kurt’s neck and his shoulder, and sucking hard.
“Mmm,” Kurt moans, his eyes rolling behind his eyelids as they flutter shut, “no…uh…merely making an observation.”
Sebastian chuckles into Kurt’s skin. Another swell passes by, the cold water flowing around them and between them, and Kurt trembles in Sebastian’s arms.
“You’re shivering,” Sebastian whispers in Kurt’s ear.
“Yes,” Kurt replies, his teeth knocking together uncontrollably, “I am, but I like it.”
“Okay, you like to shiver…” Sebastian runs his tongue up Kurt’s neck slowly, stopping at his ear. He licks around the shell, holding
Kurt against his body to enjoy the way he trembles at the touch. Kurt grips onto Sebastian’s arms, nails almost digging in, but not out of a fear of falling. He knows Sebastian would never let him go. He holds on because he needs to hold on. He needs this constant reminder that all of this is real. Kurt’s broken heart from months ago is now a fully functioning muscle, rapidly on the mend but already stronger than before. Sebastian straightens and looks into Kurt’s eyes, raising a hand to his pale cheek and brushing away a few water droplets sticking to his skin. “We’re still getting out before you freeze to death.”
Kurt drops his head and whimpers, hesitant to leave even if he is shivering down to his bones because the water that surrounds them is also connecting them. As long as it’s there, they’ll stand close together, sharing what’s left of the warmth on their skin.
“How about this,” Sebastian offers, crooking a finger beneath Kurt’s chin and raising his head up, bringing his blue eyes back into view, “we go back to the car and I’ll warm you up.”
Kurt’s teeth chatter so rapidly he can barely speak, so he nods. Sebastian leans in for one last kiss - a kiss that fills Kurt with more than just heat, a kiss that does much more than simply mend the gaps. Beneath the moonlight, with the push and pull of the ocean swaying around them and Sebastian holding him safe and secure against his skin, it’s a kiss that Kurt knows he’ll be thinking about long after this night is over.
The swells have gotten stronger and Sebastian helps Kurt from the water, keeping an arm locked around Kurt’s waist. Kurt shivers in earnest now, limping when the sting on his leg continues to burn despite the numbing effects of the cold water. He hisses with the pain but he’s relieved, at least, that the sand situation has greatly improved. The beach seems much calmer now than when they left it.
The campfire it still lit but the music and the singing are gone, and Kurt notices that the other group of skinny dippers who had braved the frigid ocean along with them have long since vacated the water and returned to their tents.
Kurt looks forward to the peace of not having to deal with people, and he’s sure Sebastian would concur. Everyone they’ve spoken to so far has been nice (with maybe the exception of Carlos), but everyone’s constant enthusiasm and energy (probably fueled by drugs and hormones) has become exasperating. It’s like being trapped on an island full of Brittany S. Pierces. The thought makes his head start to hurt.
Kurt and Sebastian are not entirely out of the woods yet. Between them and Sebastian’s Mustang, Kurt can see late night revelers playing football or Frisbee, or dancing (which looks more like disjointed flailing about. It actually looks kind of painful).
“Don’t worry, babe,” Sebastian says, interpreting the way Kurt’s back stiffens at the sight of the walk ahead of them, “I’ll protect you.”
Kurt wants to pinch Sebastian, but he can’t get his frozen fingers to obey his bidding.
They fully emerge from the water, and as soon as they set foot on the dry sand Kurt hears a racket from one of the tents - manic shuffling, the clattering of several pots dropping, and the sound of a woman crowing excitedly.
“Oh! Abel! Look!” a sing-song voice calls out, echoing down the quiet beach. “Mermen, Abel! I see mermen!”
Kurt sputters, then laughs, not sure if he heard her right but finding the notion hilarious anyway.
“Where?”
Kurt hears an older man’s voice, thick with exhaustion, answer the tittering woman from somewhere in the tent city. Kurt blinks, peering to where the tents circle the closest fire, but his blurry vision won’t clear long enough for him to zero in on where either voice is coming from.
“There! There!” The voice bounces through the air, getting louder as a woman comes into view from behind the firelight. She races down the beach, dragging a haggard man behind her, heading to where Kurt and Sebastian have stopped at the water’s edge.
Kurt looks to Sebastian, waiting for his response to the foolish couple tripping over themselves in their falsely-placed excitement, but Sebastian says nothing, his face impassive as he strides purposefully out of the water.
Kurt is surprised that his own first instinct isn’t to shield his naked body from view. At this point, all of his previous insecurities have become a moot point. Sebastian thinks he’s sexy, and that knowledge puts Kurt more at ease. He didn’t know what all these other knuckleheads thought, and honestly he didn’t care. So he doesn’t put his hands up to cover his nakedness and he doesn’t hide behind Sebastian’s body.
He doesn’t want to do anything that would force him to leave the circle of Sebastian’s arms.
“Children of the water,” the man says with a low, gracious, and endearingly genuine bow, “please take this blanket to cover yourselves and keep your bodies warm until you can return to the sea.”
The exuberant woman holds out a thick, navy blue wool blanket draped over her arm, pushing it toward them, her wide eyes begging them to take it.
Kurt is on edge, waiting for the big showdown, but Sebastian appears to be completely unperturbed by these two. He doesn’t sneer, doesn’t push past them, doesn’t make a single snide remark. Kurt isn’t sure what disturbs him more - being mistaken for mythical fish-folk or the complete 180 Sebastian is pulling.
It goes without saying that Kurt is confused to no end.
“Uh…thank you?” Kurt says, not sure how he should react. His eyes jump back and forth between the besotted couple and his deferential boyfriend, who simply accepts the gift of the blanket and wraps it quickly around their bodies.
“Thank you very much,” Sebastian says with a genuine smile. “We’ll make sure you get it back.”
“Oh, no need, no need,” the woman says, her face bright as she almost genuflects at their feet.
Sebastian nods once at the couple in a distinctly urbane manner and steers Kurt in the direction of the dismantled bandstand to fetch their belongings. While Sebastian gathers up their clothes and shoes, deciding on the best method to juggle the whole lot while holding up his end of the blanket (refusing all of Kurt’s attempt at help, calling him an invalid) Kurt glances over his shoulder and watches the couple return to their tent. They keep their arms linked around one another, nearly skipping with their shared glee, talking loudly and feverishly (though the word ‘mermen’ is the only word Kurt can hear that makes any actual sense). Sebastian comes up with a way to handle his new burden and the blanket at the same time, and they head off down the beach with Kurt only responsible for holding his edge of the blanket and not falling on his face.
The blanket is rough and scratchy against Kurt’s skin, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. It smells of camp fires and spicy incense, maybe sandalwood with a touch of patchouli. Most importantly, it traps the warmth of their bodies, and keeps Sebastian close to Kurt’s side to
boot. Sebastian juggles the pile of clothes expertly and Kurt is sincerely impressed.
“So, that was…different,” Kurt broaches, trying to find a reason behind Sebastian’s uncharacteristic behavior. Kurt doesn’t want Sebastian to change, especially not if he thinks that’s what Kurt wants. Kurt fell for cocky, snarky, overly self-confident Sebastian Smythe and everything that comes with him, but this more mature, more compassionate side of Sebastian peaks Kurt’s interest.
“What?” Sebastian asks, weeding his way around a couple of women thoroughly engrossed in making out in the sand.
“What happened back there…with that couple, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, they’re probably just high,” Sebastian offers, tugging Kurt quickly out of the way of a group playing Frisbee. All of the participants look pretty much dead on their feet, but they don’t seem to be in any hurry to stop the game - as if they’re compelled to finish, however long it takes. Kurt feels the same way. He doesn’t want this night (or more accurately ‘morning’) to end, but each step becomes heavier and more painful. If he could simply lie down in the sand again and fall back to sleep, he would consider doing it in a second.
“I get that,” Kurt says, fighting the urge to yawn, “but what I don’t get is…you.”
Sebastian stops short and takes a moment to look at Kurt, facing hooded blue eyes that stare back at him with befuddled interest.
“What about me?”
Kurt shrugs, wary of the rising agitation in Sebastian’s voice, not wanting to tarnish a glorious night with a petty argument.
“I don’t know,” Kurt says, pulling on the blanket to get Sebastian to start walking again, “I guess I just expected you to…”
“To what?” Sebastian interrupts.
Kurt wants to recant. Saying it out loud sounds rude and reprehensible. Kurt doesn’t want to come across as if he’s judging Sebastian, regardless of whether or not what he says might possibly be the truth.
“I expected you to, maybe, say something sarcastic, or...”
“Why should I?” Sebastian asks, not letting Kurt finish and sounding oddly surprised.
“Well, they were acting kind of ridiculous,” Kurt explains, jumping to his own defense.
“Did that bother you?” Sebastian slows down to match Kurt’s steadily declining pace.
“Not really, but, uh…” Kurt turns his head to look at Sebastian with raised eyebrows, “I thought for sure it would have offended you?”
“Why would it offend me?”
Kurt feels like he’s pulling teeth - dragging Sebastian by the hand toward an obvious conclusion. He wonders if Sebastian’s being serious. Did he actually not know what Kurt was getting at?
“Well…have you met yourself?” Kurt chuckles, trying to make light of an uncomfortable subject.
“Yes, Kurt,” he says, “yes, I have.”
Sebastian sounds defensive, and Kurt senses an old wall coming back up between them, but Sebastian still stays close to his side.
Kurt thinks he might see the hint of a smirk on Sebastian’s face, but he can’t be sure. It could be a trick of the passing firelight, or the moon overhead casting shadows across Sebastian’s face as they walk.
“You’re just usually not the kind of person who puts up with that type of behavior.”
Sebastian looks up at the sky above them.
“So, I’m not necessarily a people person. The existence of most people offends me, I won’t lie.” Sebastian trains his eyes along the beach, scowling at miscellaneous people as they pass by almost randomly to prove his point. “But those people back there? They’re what you would call a ‘chaotic good’.”
“Chaotic good?” Kurt feels like he should be familiar with the concept but he’s not certain why. He remembers it indistinctly, like the background noise of a conversation that he wasn’t necessarily a party to. “What does that mean?”
“A person you can classify as a chaotic good is someone who acts the way his conscience tells him to, not the way others expect him to act,” Sebastian explains. “They believe in what’s good and right. They don’t really abide by laws; they just behave the way their moral compass tells them to.”
Kurt’s eyes light up.
“Ooo! That sounds cool!” he exclaims. He hops up on his injured foot and hisses. Sebastian rolls his eyes and redistributes all his cargo, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s waist to help shoulder some of his weight. “Do me next!”
“I will if you want me to, babe, but we should really wait until we reach the car.” Sebastian wiggles his eyebrows.
“Bas,” Kurt whines, pushing against Sebastian’s side with his hip.
“You’re easy,” Sebastian says suggestively. Kurt smacks him on the arm, but Sebastian only holds him tighter, maneuvering them toward the strip of parking spots and the dusty Mustang. It’s tricky and inefficient, like they’re trying to run a three-legged race. “I would say you’re a ‘lawful good’.”
Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“A lawful good?” he asks. ‘Lawful good’ strikes him as kind of dull. From the name alone, it sounds like it could be the exact opposite of what Kurt’s been aiming for during this vacation.
“Yup. Your lines in the sand, so to speak, are strictly drawn. Black and white. You side with what you know to be good and you battle evil. You tell the truth, you keep your word, you fight against injustice…”
Sebastian punctuates his points with kisses to the crown of Kurt’s head, but as he speaks, his voice wanders off and Kurt wonders - is that really the way Sebastian sees him? So definitively set in his ways? Always upright and honest?
“That sounds boring,” Kurt says with a thread of disappointment in his voice.
Sebastian shrugs.
“Boring isn’t necessarily bad,” he says. “To be honest, you’ve been boring eighty percent of the time and you still landed me.”
Sebastian smirks as Kurt kicks out with his good leg, but Sebastian picks him up and kisses him, effectively silencing any further attempt at violence. When Sebastian sets him back down, Kurt stares at him with a lopsided grin. Normally Kurt doesn’t permit PDA (a rule that’s becoming less hard-and-fast every second he spends with Sebastian), but he can definitely get into this thing Sebastian has for manhandling him anytime, anywhere.
“So, what does that make you?”
“Oh, babe,” Sebastian says with a chuckle, “I’m a ‘chaotic neutral’.”
Kurt rolls his eyes at the satisfaction in Sebastian’s voice at his declaration.
“So, what is a ‘chaotic neutral’?”
“I follow my whims,” he explains. “Look out for my own best interests. I have a problem with authority, resent restrictions…” He looks down at Kurt, leaning in to whisper into his ear, “…I’m unpredictable.”
Kurt is inclined to agree with that statement and he’s about to say so, but sudden comprehension derails his train of thought.
“Wait…” Kurt feels more sure than ever that he’s heard this all before. As with most of his less defined knowledge regarding popular culture, it’s something he overheard Finn and Puck discussing, something Kurt spurned as sad and pathetic. “Chaotic good, lawful good, chaotic neutral…” A grin of pure mischief forms on his face as he comes to the conclusion - “that’s from Dungeons and Dragons, isn’t it?”
Sebastian stands up straighter, his body going rigid, eyes focusing on the sand.
“N-not necessarily…”
Kurt rarely gets the chance to hear Sebastian stumble, and he basks in the effervescent glory of it.
“Oh, please don’t tell me somewhere there’s a story of little Sebby and his big brother Julian playing D&D in their parent’s basement?”
Kurt doesn’t stifle his grin but beams at Sebastian, punch drunk and giggling. Sebastian stares at him crossly, his mouth drawn in a thin, unamused line, though Kurt is sure that Sebastian is more amused than he lets on.
“Call me Sebby again,” Sebastian says drily, “and one of your precious Vivienne Westwood scarves will meet with an unfortunate accident.”
Kurt sobers up, but not completely. He’s not thrilled with the prospect of one of his favorite rare scarves getting shredded, but having this to hold over Sebastian’s head is too good to resist.
“You…wouldn’t…dare,” Kurt says sternly back, threat firmly implied.
Sebastian is more than willing to take that challenge.
“Try me.”
Kurt glares at Sebastian, unwilling to back down, but his foot slips into a hole in the sand and he almost plummets to the ground.
Sebastian’s arm around his waist, which up until now he’s taken for granted, rescues him from twisting his ankle and incapacitating himself any further.
Kurt recovers what’s left of his dignity, feeling Sebastian laugh beside him.
“Serves you right,” Sebastian grumbles but in a light-hearted tone.
Kurt feels his heart swell. He’s enjoying this - this banter back and forth. So, maybe Sebastian is growing and maturing and changing a bit, but so is Kurt. Everybody does. But they still have this - the old ‘them’ that they can always fall back on.
“You know,” Kurt says thoughtfully, eager to keep the verbal volley going, “you being into D&D actually explains so much.”
Sebastian’s next laugh is more of a derisive grunt than an actual laugh.
“Not that I’m interested in perpetuating this psychotic delusion any further, but what exactly would it explain?”
“Your sexual promiscuity,” Kurt says.
Sebastian’s head snaps so quickly to meet Kurt’s gaze that Kurt is sure he hears a few of Sebastian’s vertebrae crack.
Kurt nods with the weight of his sage wisdom.
“You’re obviously overcompensating for a closet Dungeons and Dragon obsession, hence the need for numerous sexual partners.”
Sebastian glowers, bristling all over as Kurt continues, but Kurt can’t seem to stop. That look in Sebastian’s eyes is dangerous and
exciting, and Kurt wants more of it aimed his way.
“You’re posturing,” Kurt continues, “showing off your sexual prowess to deflect from the fact that you’re actually…” Kurt pauses for effect, relishing the next few words, “a gigantic nerd.”
Sebastian glares at Kurt’s teasing face, eyes practically on fire, and frowns.
“That’s it,” he says. “You’ve lost your blanket privileges.”
“No!” Kurt squeals, holding tight to the blanket as Sebastian tugs it hard, shoving him over with his hip, trying to push him out. “No!
Okay! You’re not a nerd! I give! I give!” Kurt slips again, heading for the sand, and he’s thinks that this time Sebastian is going to let him face-plant completely as payback for his teasing, but Sebastian catches him again with the hand around his waist.
“God, you’re a fucking klutz, aren’t you?” Sebastian accuses, bringing Kurt up into his arms and hugging him this time, burying his nose into Kurt’s hair as he gives him a chance to rest his injured leg. Kurt balances awkwardly on one foot, holding his ankle up while he tries not to stumble in the sand.
“Hold this,” Sebastian says, handing Kurt his edge of the blanket. Kurt takes it and holds onto it while Sebastian slides his hand beneath Kurt’s knee and lifts it up, holding his hurt foot aloft and helping him maintain his balance.
Kurt bites his lip, counting about a hundred different times Sebastian has managed to make him mentally swoon this morning alone.
“Thanks,” Kurt mutters, noticing how with their bodies close together and his leg angled up this way he can feel everything about
Sebastian’s body, even more so when he was bent over backwards in his arms in the water.
It’s risqué and raunchy, but it makes Kurt want to drop down into the sand and try his hand at seducing Sebastian all over again, even though he’s confident the results would be the same.
“Seriously, though,” Kurt says, deflecting some of his mounting desire by drumming up more conversation, “how do you know that?”
Sebastian’s eyes are focused down at Kurt’s chest, not meeting his eyes, and Kurt realizes that past the racing of his own heart, which had started up again at the touch of Sebastian’s skin sandwiched against his own, he can feel Sebastian’s rapidly thumping heart beat as well.
“I had a contemporary European literature professor who used alignments as a framework for examining character loyalties in turn of the century French and German post World War II literature,” Sebastian says, his voice unsteady and less mocking in light of their current position. Kurt can only guess what Sebastian is thinking, imagining the two of them lying naked in the sand worshipping each other as well.
Kurt’s face is flushed when Sebastian looks at him. Kurt raises an eyebrow, his expression blank and somewhat skeptical.
“But yes, it’s from Dungeons and Dragons,” Sebastian admits finally.
“A-ha!” Kurt cheers. “I knew it!”
“You know nothing.” Sebastian lowers Kurt’s leg back to the ground and directs him toward the car.
“If it makes you feel any better, I imagine you as a twelfth level paladin,” Kurt says grinning, “or the dungeon master.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Sebastian groans, knowing he’s still being ruthlessly taunted, “and by the way, wouldn’t knowing all this make you a gigantic nerd?”
“I see it more as the unavoidable symptom of a communicable disease.”
“What disease?” Sebastian scoffs.
“Puck and Finn.”
Sebastian’s eyes shift to catch a glimpse of Kurt’s serious face.
“Okay,” Sebastian says, sympathizing as a brother to a brother, “you’re excused.”
“Thank you,” Kurt says dramatically, as if Sebastian’s approval justified Kurt’s whole existence.
Sebastian laughs.
“You do realize you called your stepbrother a disease, right?”
“He’ll live.” Kurt grimaces as they head up the slight embankment to the car.
The thirty or so steps up the embankment turn out to be the slowest steps of Kurt’s life. He hadn’t noticed that they had walked quite so far, but now that he can barely put any weight on his leg he curses all the adrenaline and enthusiasm that had propelled him down the beach in the first place.
“So, are we going to drive back inland now?” Kurt asks around a yawn.
“Nope,” Sebastian says, leaning Kurt up against the Mustang for support. He slips out from beneath the blanket, walking completely naked to the rear of the car. Not that Kurt minds at all. He stares blatantly at Sebastian’s toned ass until he rounds the rear of the vehicle, out of sight. Sebastian pops the trunk and rummages around for a bit, coming back with a duffel bag, a box of cornstarch, and several bottles of water. “I told you, there’s no way we’re getting off this beach tonight.”
“Why not?”
Sebastian doesn’t answer; he simply points in the direction of the way they came in. Kurt’s eyes follow the path of Sebastian’s finger and he sees groups of tents, campfires, the bodies of people passed out in the sand - all blocking their exit.
“What are we going to do then?” Kurt asks, not looking forward to sleeping with sand stuck to his body. Sebastian picks up one of the bottles of water and the box of cornstarch, shaking them in front of Kurt’s face, waiting expectantly for Kurt to guess.
“We’re going to make papier mache?” Kurt tilts his head and squints, not in the mood for guessing games.
Sebastian shakes his head.
“We’re going to take a camping shower.”
Kurt’s face drops, his expression going completely inscrutable while Sebastian starts opening the caps on the water bottles and lining them up on the roof of the car. Once that’s done, he opens the box of cornstarch, squeezing the sides of the box to soften up the powder inside. His turns around and finds Kurt standing, unmoved with the blanket still wrapped around him.
“Come on, babe.” Sebastian reaches out a hand and tugs at the rough cloth. “Open up.”
Kurt doesn’t know why he stalls. Didn’t he already strip for Sebastian? Hasn’t he seen him naked? Why is this different?
With shaking hands, Kurt opens the blanket and holds it wide, blocking the view of anyone who might walk behind him. Sebastian starts to dust Kurt’s skin with the cornstarch, coating his skin until it’s completely white. The powder puffs up toward Kurt’s nose, the tiny particulates irritating his sinuses. He moves to pinch his nose, but he stops halfway, knowing that doing so will involve either closing the blanket around him and hindering Sebastian’s progress or dropping the blanket completely.
“You know, this would be easier if you dropped the blanket,” Sebastian says, struggling to dust Kurt’s back with the wool cloth clutched in his fists. Sebastian’s gaze flicks up, catching Kurt sweeping his eyes over the parking lot. “Carlos isn’t here if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Where did he go?” Kurt coughs as he inhales a cloud of powder, but it’s a perfect cover for the question that he almost asked but really didn’t want to know the answer to - How do you know?
Sebastian shrugs.
“Probably to one of those tents,” Sebastian speculates, bending over to powder Kurt’s legs, carefully avoiding the sopping wet bandage encircling Kurt’s ankle. After Kurt is covered to Sebastian’s satisfaction, he grabs a clean dry towel from the duffel and starts knocking the cornstarch off Kurt’s body - the thin, smooth powder sliding off Kurt’s skin and taking the coarser sand along with it.
Kurt looks over the tents, most of them brightly lit from the inside, shadows and silhouettes dancing along the sides of some, showing clearly what the inhabitants are doing. Kurt briefly wonders which one Carlos might have commandeered for himself when a splash of water hits his shoulder.
“Jeesh!” Kurt hops back and Sebastian laughs.
“Settle down, Hummel. You don’t want to waste it.”
Mesmerized, Kurt stands, unmoving and lets Sebastian wash him, pouring bottled water over his skin and rinsing what’s left of the sand away. He closes his eyes just a moment when the water trickles in thin rivers around his hips and over the swell of his ass. It feels so intimate, even standing here on a public beach, surrounded by cars and the occasional passerby. They could be standing in the middle of a crowded mall on Black Friday for all Kurt cares. Sebastian rinses the sand from between his fingers, placing a quick kiss to his inside wrist before traveling down his legs. He unwraps Kurt’s bandage and flushes out the sting.
“Wh-where did you learn this?” Kurt asks, not so much curious but needing something to focus on while Sebastian cleans the sand off his ankle - a place Kurt didn’t know was an erogenous zone until Sebastian brushed his fingertips lightly against it.
“My father was an Eagle Scout,” Sebastian says, switching to Kurt’s other ankle, biting back a smile when a quiet moan slips past
Kurt’s lips, “my mom was a Cadet. They know all about this camping in the woods, living off of bark, and surviving the zombie apocalypse shit.”
“Oh yeah?” Kurt asks, the words somewhere between a breathy gasp and a whimper when Sebastian works his way back up Kurt’s leg toward his inner thigh. He tries to picture Gregory and Charlotte as weekend warriors, hiking in the wilderness, purifying water with a coffee can and some bleach, if for no other reason than to kill the hard-on that’s threatening to make an appearance.
Disturbingly enough, it doesn’t help in that capacity.
“Yeah,” Sebastian continues. “They took us to one of those endurance retreats in the California desert when I was in the fifth grade.
They thought it would be a bonding experience or something.”
Kurt shifts from one foot to the other, spreading his legs and swallowing hard, looking straight ahead, categorizing the cars in the lot by style and color, finding anything to draw his attention away from the water drizzling lightly down his stomach in a way that seems to direct the stream straight down his already half-hard cock.
Kurt has a suspicion that Sebastian chose that path on purpose.
“What happened?” Kurt says, steadying his voice, refusing to be flustered.
“Me, Liv, and Julian spent the whole trip taking bets on who would die or get eaten first, which turned into a huge argument over what part of the body is suitable for human consumption, and three hours later my parents called it quits and took us to Disneyland.”
Sebastian empties the rest of the bottle down Kurt’s chest, staring deep into his eyes as he does it, seeing something in Kurt’s gaze that he apparently likes because his smirk turns into a sultry grin and he licks his lips. He kisses Kurt quickly, slipping his tongue into Kurt’s mouth with a low growl and enough heat to leave Kurt wanting so much more. Then he breaks away and hands Kurt a fresh towel.
“You dry off and get dressed,” Sebastian commands, gesturing to the open duffel bag lying on the ground. “It’s my turn next.”
Kurt starts to dry off, watching Sebastian shower (if it can honestly be termed that). He starts the process over on himself, dusting his skin with the cornstarch and then swatting it off with the towel, brushing away the sand in a much rougher manner than he used on Kurt. Sebastian opens a bottle of water and pours it over himself, bending his neck back and starting beneath his chin. The water slides over his skin in a way that Kurt can almost feel, his own skin tingling with the memory of it. Sebastian sets aside the empty bottle and reaches for another one, but Kurt reaches a hand out for it, too. Their hands meet somewhere in the middle.
“Did you want me to…”
Sebastian looks at Kurt’s face, into his beckoning blue eyes, and his breath hitches in his throat.
“That’s okay,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll just take a second. Finish getting dressed. I don’t need you catching a cold.”
“Right,” Kurt says with a smirk to match Sebastian’s, “because you don’t want to have to take care of me?”
Sebastian’s grin burns brighter and he winks.
“That’s right.”
Dressing on the beach is a tricky business. Struck with a sudden case of modesty as more and more beach goers start heading towards their cars, Kurt attempts to keep the towel wrapped around his waist and manages, at least, to get his shirt on that way. But keeping the towel from slipping while balancing on one leg and negotiating pants is a feat bordering on the extraterrestrial, so eventually he has to abandon propriety, and bares ass so he can bend over and put on the sweat pants Sebastian lent him. Kurt dresses carefully, trying not to get sand in the leg of the pants. Luckily, the sweats have loose elastic around the ankle and Kurt opens it wide to slip each foot through. He stops every once in a while to continue watching Sebastian rinse the sand off his skin. He starts to feel guilty, thinking that maybe he shouldn’t, that he’s peeking in on a private moment, but then Sebastian catches his eye and smiles.
“Do you see something you like, Hummel?” he asks cheekily.
“Geez,” Kurt says with a roll of his eyes, “isn’t that the most overused statement of our generation?”
“I’m not sure,” Sebastian says. “I think it might be tied with ‘baby bump’ and ‘I don’t think so’. Oh, and let’s not forget the ever popular
‘I’ve got your back’.”
Kurt nods in agreement. He turns to the car and picks up a bottle, holding it out to Sebastian. Sebastian takes it, but doesn’t continue bathing. He waits for an answer to his question, overused or not.
“So, do you?” he repeats.
Kurt feels color rising to his cheeks, burning so brightly that he knows even the night and the shadows can’t hide it, which is good in the long run. It gives him the freedom to be honest.
“Everything,” Kurt says with awe. “I like everything about you. You…you’re gorgeous.”
This time it’s Sebastian who turns his head to hide his blush.
“What?” Kurt asks. “You can’t tell me you haven’t heard that from someone before. I won’t believe it.”
Sebastian pours what’s left of the water down his legs and holds the empty plastic bottle in both hands, crushing it flat.
“No,” he says. “I haven’t. Not like that.”
It never dawned on Kurt, not once since he’s known him, that of all those boys and men that Sebastian must have been with that not one of them would have paid him a compliment - an honest compliment, that is. Kurt was sure that’s where the bulk of his overly vaulted sense of self-esteem had come from. Sebastian must have heard he was handsome, but probably in that way that people tell you what you want to hear in order to get something out of you.
Kurt wants Sebastian to look at him, to give Kurt permission to comfort him, but Sebastian doesn’t look at him right away. He dresses
on autopilot, his eyes distant as he puts on his clothes. He’s lost in his thoughts and Kurt lets him stay there, not put out at being ignored, giving Sebastian whatever time he needs. Sebastian clears away the empty water bottles and the cornstarch, putting them beside the pile of their sandy clothes, the duffel bag, and the wool blanket in the trunk before he speaks to Kurt again.
“Uh…I brought a tent if you want to set it up on the beach,” Sebastian offers.
“That sounds…amazing,” Kurt admits, “but I’m exhausted. I think if I take another step I’m going to die.”
Sebastian chuckles, shaking his head, and all of a sudden Kurt’s boyfriend is back. Sebastian opens the passenger door to the Mustang. He leans down and pulls up a lever, collapsing the seat forward.
“Climb on in, babe,” Sebastian instructs, gesturing to the back seat.
“But…but it’s tiny,” Kurt complains around another, more persistent, yawn.
“Kurt,” Sebastian says sternly, “nothing about this car is tiny.”
“Does that include the car’s owner?” Kurt teases, climbing into the back seat with Sebastian close behind.
“Don’t you know it,” he answers back, swatting Kurt on the ass. (Kurt is beginning to get the impression that Sebastian is an ass man.)
Sebastian shuts the door behind them and locks it. He grabs a pillow and a blanket that he had stashed in the front seat at some point when Kurt wasn’t paying any attention.
“This is going to be a tight squeeze,” Kurt says, climbing onto the seat with Sebastian, cautiously kneeling down so that he doesn’t unwittingly knee Sebastian in the groin.
“Those are the best kind,” Sebastian mumbles, adjusting beneath Kurt’s body, maneuvering so that they better fit together.
It’s not perfect, and by no means the most comfortable sleeping arrangement. They shimmy up to adjust and readjust several times - Kurt lifting up so Sebastian can scoot further down the seat, then doing it one more time so Sebastian can scoot back up again, half twisting separately, then together, Kurt draping an arm over Sebastian, and then Sebastian wrapping an arm around Kurt and holding him tight - until the pillow rests behind Sebastian’s neck just right and Kurt curls against his boyfriend’s body in a way that means none of his limbs will fall go numb, even though Sebastian is practically holding him suspended in mid-air. Kurt giggles once, imagining what the rocking Mustang must look like to the casual outside observer.
They settle down finally, and what at first blush seemed like an ill-conceived idea (with Kurt constantly questioning if he should swallow his pride and ask Sebastian to build the tent after all) turns into something enchanting. The back seat of the Mustang becomes their own quiet safe haven; secluded from the ocean air and the prying eyes of stragglers roaming the beach. They stop moving at the same time, catch each other’s gaze in the dark, and all at once without any words spoken Sebastian is kissing Kurt, or Kurt is kissing Sebastian. It happens so suddenly that Kurt can’t tell who starts it, but he doesn’t want it to end.
Kurt chuckles quietly in the space between kisses.
“How did this happen?” he asks, closing the gap for another inevitable kiss.
“How did what happen?” Sebastian hums against Kurt’s lips.
“This,” Kurt says, sweeping his eyes around the car as a gesture meant to imply everything that’s transpired between them so far, “us. How did that happen?”
Sebastian shrugs, kissing a patch of skin below Kurt’s ear, running a hand up his neck, fingertips grazing lightly.
“I’m not sure,” Sebastian admits, “but I learned a long time ago not to question a good thing when it comes along.”
“Am I a good thing?” Kurt asks, thinking about all those boys, all those men who have probably used Sebastian over the years. That isn’t to say Sebastian didn’t use a few of them, too, but Kurt doesn’t care about those nameless, faceless strangers. He cares about Sebastian - a beautiful boy who only wants a chance to love someone, and feel loved in return.
Kurt doesn’t overthink kissing Sebastian. He lets whatever is going to happen come in its own time. He gives his body permission to do and be. His hands roam over Sebastian’s body, toying with the hem of his soft, white t-shirt, fingertips brushing at the slightly salt-dry but smooth skin underneath.
“Kurt,” Sebastian mutters when Kurt snakes his hands beneath the elastic waistband of Sebastian’s sweatpants and finds him hard and aching beneath his fingers. Kurt takes hold, takes control, and strokes him slowly.
“Kurt…” It’s a question, a plea, and it’s deliciously broken. Sebastian’s hands are on him, reaching for him, but Kurt moves out of his grasp. Kurt wants to experience this in its entirety, without any distractions. “Kurt…”
Kurt deliberately experiments with pressure, speed, a slight twist of his fist, finding all those subtle variations that make Sebastian shudder and gasp beneath him. Kurt feels his own desire grow at every breathless mention of his name, but he’s determined to finish what he started.
“Kurt…” Sebastian finally grabs hold of Kurt’s hand and stills his movements.
“Sebastian…” Kurt objects.
“No, Kurt…” Sebastian interrupts. “No, it’s not that. I need you. Please.”
Sebastian helps Kurt climb over him, repositioning their bodies in the confines of the car so that Kurt can lay on him. Sebastian’s legs drop open at the knees so that Kurt can rest between them and Kurt picks up where he stopped earlier. The temperature inside the Mustang rises sharply as Kurt moves, his forehead damp with perspiration at the strain of staying balanced in such a cramped space, but it’s worth it when he feels that first surge of pleasure course through his body, and Sebastian arches his back and moans.
“God, yes!” Sebastian groans, loud enough to be heard outside the car, evidenced by the muted sound of cheering they can hear from the owners of the Lexus parked next to them. “Yes, Kurt! Right…right there. D-don’t stop…”
Sebastian’s tortured muttering is just as sexy, maybe even more so, than his drawn out, sinful moans every time Kurt rolls his hips down, sliding their cocks together. Kurt had been so nervous about initiating this, so nervous that he would pale in comparison, but he reminds himself that Sebastian’s former exploits mean nothing.
They are nothing.
It’s in the past, the same way Blaine is swiftly becoming a part of Kurt’s past.
Sebastian wants Kurt. With every scrape of his nails down Kurt’s back, with every rise of his hips to meet Kurt’s thrusts, with every pant and whimper and shudder - Sebastian wants Kurt.
Sebastian watches Kurt snap his hips above him because he needs to see him there.
There is no one else.
Sebastian lets Kurt take him, and when he cums again, after hours spent kissing and teasing and edging so close just to be pulled apart again, it’s with Kurt’s name on his lips and their fingers laced together.
Sebastian cums because of Kurt, and for Sebastian, it’s almost like a dream.
“Finally,” Sebastian groans. “I didn’t know how many more near misses I was going to be able to take.”
“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, still hovering in the delirium of his own orgasm. “I guess this car is bigger on the inside than it seems.”
Kurt stares down into Sebastian’s face, and in the light coming in through the windows Kurt can see the track of a single tear staining Sebastian’s cheek. Kurt longs to lean over and kiss it away, but he decides not to. Sebastian, in many ways, is still so guarded about certain feelings; he still has so many secrets. He might not be ready to share this one.
Kurt has one or two of his own that he’s not ready to reveal, even though the loose lips that come with post-coital bliss are dying to spill everything.
“How do you feel?” Kurt asks, half-hoping that Sebastian might come clean on his own.
“I feel like I need to go get my suspension checked because I think we rocked my Mustang pretty hard,” Sebastian jokes. He raises a hand and wipes the tear away but says nothing about, and Kurt sighs knowing that is another puzzle piece he’s going to have to come to terms with letting go.
“Please,” Kurt scoffs. “You have an American muscle car with an independent rear suspension. I’m sure she can handle us rocking her a little bit.”
Sebastian stares for a moment, and then pulls Kurt down on top of his.
“Yes,” he moans, “talk automotive to me! It gets me so hot!”
“Yeah, I bet,” Kurt laughs. “Tell me you brought one of those towels in here so I don’t have to go to sleep with a mess down my pants this time.”
“Are you always this high-maintenance?” Sebastian reaches into the front seat, grabs a towel, and hands it to Kurt.
“I didn’t know that not wanting to sleep in a pool of bodily fluids constituted being high-maintenance,” Kurt argues, slipping the end of the towel into the front of his sweatpants to clean himself off. Sebastian grabs the opposite end and does the same. Kurt raises an eyebrow.
“So, does that mean you’re high-maintenance, too?” Kurt jeers, dropping his end of the towel when he finishes.
“Nope,” Sebastian says, wrapping the towel in a ball and shoving it to the floor when he’s done, “I ‘m piggybacking off a good idea.”
Kurt curls up in roughly the same position as before, with his head on Sebastian’s chest, and melts onto his boyfriend’s body much easier now that they’re both relaxed. Kurt can hear Sebastian’s breathing along with his heart beating against his ear. It’s calm and soothing, and his body responds to it - his own breathing slowing to match, his own heart quieting to equal its pace.
Sebastian pulls the forgotten blanket around them, tucking it around Kurt to keep him warm. Before the thought of saying ‘good-night’ even enters his mind, he hears Kurt’s breathing even out, and he knows that Kurt’s already asleep.
Sebastian stares up at the ceiling of his Mustang, fighting the pull of sleep long enough to let one more tear slip, holding on to this bittersweet feeling for as long as he can.
Step by step Sebastian draws Kurt into the water, picking his way around the soft, shifting sand, and testing the ground first before signaling for Kurt to follow. Every so often he looks back and smiles encouragingly, tempting Kurt with the lure of his eyes, green irises growing darker as the moonlight passes over them. Sebastian takes them out a distance from the shore - far enough to be free of the roaming band of imbeciles, stopping where the swells reach no higher than their waists. Reluctant to release his hold on Kurt’s hand, Sebastian keeps their fingers laced together as he crouches down and dips below the water’s surface, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair to loosen the sand. Sebastian emerges with a wicked smile on his lips and he shakes his head like a dog, drizzling Kurt with water. Kurt laughs, turning his head to avoid the spray. He escapes by ducking down below the water, rinsing the sand from his body and hair. He feels fingers that aren’t his own card through his hair, working out the knots and the mats, fingertips massaging his scalp and scrubbing away the sand.
Sebastian’s hand in Kurt’s hair is cathartic; it frees Kurt of more than simply the bothersome sand lodged in places he’d rather not mention. That’s because everything about Sebastian is safe. Kurt doesn’t always have to be the adult; he doesn’t always have to be the one in charge and in control. Kurt could relax in the water and let Sebastian touch him like that forever, but his oxygen deprived lungs disagree and he breaks through the surface of the water, sucking in a deep breath.
“I was getting nervous there for a second,” Sebastian says, releasing Kurt’s hand so he can better rub the water from his eyes. “We breathe air, you know, babe, not water.”
“I know…” Kurt coughs as he takes another breath, “but I didn’t want you to stop. You’re too good at that.”
“I’m not all good, you know.” Sebastian winds his arms back around Kurt’s body and presses against him.
“I know,” Kurt whispers, resting his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder, hugging Sebastian back, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
The sea nettle sting burns beneath his bandage, but Kurt finds it easy to ignore with Sebastian’s arms wrapped protectively around him. Kurt can get addicted to being held like this, naked beneath the moonlight. He leans back and stretches his neck to accommodate Sebastian’s lips, their heat welcome against his chilled, wet skin. The water circles them, a conduit between their bodies. Here in Sebastian’s arms, Kurt feels buoyant, light. The water pulls at him but Sebastian is his anchor. The ocean is a formidable force of nature but Kurt has nothing to fear. He’s safe as long as he’s in Sebastian’s arms.
“I think that skinny dipping implies something wholly different than what we’re doing,” Kurt says offhandedly, bringing a hand up behind Sebastian’s head and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Do you want me to let you go so you can swim?” Sebastian asks, latching onto the juncture between Kurt’s neck and his shoulder, and sucking hard.
“Mmm,” Kurt moans, his eyes rolling behind his eyelids as they flutter shut, “no…uh…merely making an observation.”
Sebastian chuckles into Kurt’s skin. Another swell passes by, the cold water flowing around them and between them, and Kurt trembles in Sebastian’s arms.
“You’re shivering,” Sebastian whispers in Kurt’s ear.
“Yes,” Kurt replies, his teeth knocking together uncontrollably, “I am, but I like it.”
“Okay, you like to shiver…” Sebastian runs his tongue up Kurt’s neck slowly, stopping at his ear. He licks around the shell, holding
Kurt against his body to enjoy the way he trembles at the touch. Kurt grips onto Sebastian’s arms, nails almost digging in, but not out of a fear of falling. He knows Sebastian would never let him go. He holds on because he needs to hold on. He needs this constant reminder that all of this is real. Kurt’s broken heart from months ago is now a fully functioning muscle, rapidly on the mend but already stronger than before. Sebastian straightens and looks into Kurt’s eyes, raising a hand to his pale cheek and brushing away a few water droplets sticking to his skin. “We’re still getting out before you freeze to death.”
Kurt drops his head and whimpers, hesitant to leave even if he is shivering down to his bones because the water that surrounds them is also connecting them. As long as it’s there, they’ll stand close together, sharing what’s left of the warmth on their skin.
“How about this,” Sebastian offers, crooking a finger beneath Kurt’s chin and raising his head up, bringing his blue eyes back into view, “we go back to the car and I’ll warm you up.”
Kurt’s teeth chatter so rapidly he can barely speak, so he nods. Sebastian leans in for one last kiss - a kiss that fills Kurt with more than just heat, a kiss that does much more than simply mend the gaps. Beneath the moonlight, with the push and pull of the ocean swaying around them and Sebastian holding him safe and secure against his skin, it’s a kiss that Kurt knows he’ll be thinking about long after this night is over.
The swells have gotten stronger and Sebastian helps Kurt from the water, keeping an arm locked around Kurt’s waist. Kurt shivers in earnest now, limping when the sting on his leg continues to burn despite the numbing effects of the cold water. He hisses with the pain but he’s relieved, at least, that the sand situation has greatly improved. The beach seems much calmer now than when they left it.
The campfire it still lit but the music and the singing are gone, and Kurt notices that the other group of skinny dippers who had braved the frigid ocean along with them have long since vacated the water and returned to their tents.
Kurt looks forward to the peace of not having to deal with people, and he’s sure Sebastian would concur. Everyone they’ve spoken to so far has been nice (with maybe the exception of Carlos), but everyone’s constant enthusiasm and energy (probably fueled by drugs and hormones) has become exasperating. It’s like being trapped on an island full of Brittany S. Pierces. The thought makes his head start to hurt.
Kurt and Sebastian are not entirely out of the woods yet. Between them and Sebastian’s Mustang, Kurt can see late night revelers playing football or Frisbee, or dancing (which looks more like disjointed flailing about. It actually looks kind of painful).
“Don’t worry, babe,” Sebastian says, interpreting the way Kurt’s back stiffens at the sight of the walk ahead of them, “I’ll protect you.”
Kurt wants to pinch Sebastian, but he can’t get his frozen fingers to obey his bidding.
They fully emerge from the water, and as soon as they set foot on the dry sand Kurt hears a racket from one of the tents - manic shuffling, the clattering of several pots dropping, and the sound of a woman crowing excitedly.
“Oh! Abel! Look!” a sing-song voice calls out, echoing down the quiet beach. “Mermen, Abel! I see mermen!”
Kurt sputters, then laughs, not sure if he heard her right but finding the notion hilarious anyway.
“Where?”
Kurt hears an older man’s voice, thick with exhaustion, answer the tittering woman from somewhere in the tent city. Kurt blinks, peering to where the tents circle the closest fire, but his blurry vision won’t clear long enough for him to zero in on where either voice is coming from.
“There! There!” The voice bounces through the air, getting louder as a woman comes into view from behind the firelight. She races down the beach, dragging a haggard man behind her, heading to where Kurt and Sebastian have stopped at the water’s edge.
Kurt looks to Sebastian, waiting for his response to the foolish couple tripping over themselves in their falsely-placed excitement, but Sebastian says nothing, his face impassive as he strides purposefully out of the water.
Kurt is surprised that his own first instinct isn’t to shield his naked body from view. At this point, all of his previous insecurities have become a moot point. Sebastian thinks he’s sexy, and that knowledge puts Kurt more at ease. He didn’t know what all these other knuckleheads thought, and honestly he didn’t care. So he doesn’t put his hands up to cover his nakedness and he doesn’t hide behind Sebastian’s body.
He doesn’t want to do anything that would force him to leave the circle of Sebastian’s arms.
“Children of the water,” the man says with a low, gracious, and endearingly genuine bow, “please take this blanket to cover yourselves and keep your bodies warm until you can return to the sea.”
The exuberant woman holds out a thick, navy blue wool blanket draped over her arm, pushing it toward them, her wide eyes begging them to take it.
Kurt is on edge, waiting for the big showdown, but Sebastian appears to be completely unperturbed by these two. He doesn’t sneer, doesn’t push past them, doesn’t make a single snide remark. Kurt isn’t sure what disturbs him more - being mistaken for mythical fish-folk or the complete 180 Sebastian is pulling.
It goes without saying that Kurt is confused to no end.
“Uh…thank you?” Kurt says, not sure how he should react. His eyes jump back and forth between the besotted couple and his deferential boyfriend, who simply accepts the gift of the blanket and wraps it quickly around their bodies.
“Thank you very much,” Sebastian says with a genuine smile. “We’ll make sure you get it back.”
“Oh, no need, no need,” the woman says, her face bright as she almost genuflects at their feet.
Sebastian nods once at the couple in a distinctly urbane manner and steers Kurt in the direction of the dismantled bandstand to fetch their belongings. While Sebastian gathers up their clothes and shoes, deciding on the best method to juggle the whole lot while holding up his end of the blanket (refusing all of Kurt’s attempt at help, calling him an invalid) Kurt glances over his shoulder and watches the couple return to their tent. They keep their arms linked around one another, nearly skipping with their shared glee, talking loudly and feverishly (though the word ‘mermen’ is the only word Kurt can hear that makes any actual sense). Sebastian comes up with a way to handle his new burden and the blanket at the same time, and they head off down the beach with Kurt only responsible for holding his edge of the blanket and not falling on his face.
The blanket is rough and scratchy against Kurt’s skin, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. It smells of camp fires and spicy incense, maybe sandalwood with a touch of patchouli. Most importantly, it traps the warmth of their bodies, and keeps Sebastian close to Kurt’s side to
boot. Sebastian juggles the pile of clothes expertly and Kurt is sincerely impressed.
“So, that was…different,” Kurt broaches, trying to find a reason behind Sebastian’s uncharacteristic behavior. Kurt doesn’t want Sebastian to change, especially not if he thinks that’s what Kurt wants. Kurt fell for cocky, snarky, overly self-confident Sebastian Smythe and everything that comes with him, but this more mature, more compassionate side of Sebastian peaks Kurt’s interest.
“What?” Sebastian asks, weeding his way around a couple of women thoroughly engrossed in making out in the sand.
“What happened back there…with that couple, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, they’re probably just high,” Sebastian offers, tugging Kurt quickly out of the way of a group playing Frisbee. All of the participants look pretty much dead on their feet, but they don’t seem to be in any hurry to stop the game - as if they’re compelled to finish, however long it takes. Kurt feels the same way. He doesn’t want this night (or more accurately ‘morning’) to end, but each step becomes heavier and more painful. If he could simply lie down in the sand again and fall back to sleep, he would consider doing it in a second.
“I get that,” Kurt says, fighting the urge to yawn, “but what I don’t get is…you.”
Sebastian stops short and takes a moment to look at Kurt, facing hooded blue eyes that stare back at him with befuddled interest.
“What about me?”
Kurt shrugs, wary of the rising agitation in Sebastian’s voice, not wanting to tarnish a glorious night with a petty argument.
“I don’t know,” Kurt says, pulling on the blanket to get Sebastian to start walking again, “I guess I just expected you to…”
“To what?” Sebastian interrupts.
Kurt wants to recant. Saying it out loud sounds rude and reprehensible. Kurt doesn’t want to come across as if he’s judging Sebastian, regardless of whether or not what he says might possibly be the truth.
“I expected you to, maybe, say something sarcastic, or...”
“Why should I?” Sebastian asks, not letting Kurt finish and sounding oddly surprised.
“Well, they were acting kind of ridiculous,” Kurt explains, jumping to his own defense.
“Did that bother you?” Sebastian slows down to match Kurt’s steadily declining pace.
“Not really, but, uh…” Kurt turns his head to look at Sebastian with raised eyebrows, “I thought for sure it would have offended you?”
“Why would it offend me?”
Kurt feels like he’s pulling teeth - dragging Sebastian by the hand toward an obvious conclusion. He wonders if Sebastian’s being serious. Did he actually not know what Kurt was getting at?
“Well…have you met yourself?” Kurt chuckles, trying to make light of an uncomfortable subject.
“Yes, Kurt,” he says, “yes, I have.”
Sebastian sounds defensive, and Kurt senses an old wall coming back up between them, but Sebastian still stays close to his side.
Kurt thinks he might see the hint of a smirk on Sebastian’s face, but he can’t be sure. It could be a trick of the passing firelight, or the moon overhead casting shadows across Sebastian’s face as they walk.
“You’re just usually not the kind of person who puts up with that type of behavior.”
Sebastian looks up at the sky above them.
“So, I’m not necessarily a people person. The existence of most people offends me, I won’t lie.” Sebastian trains his eyes along the beach, scowling at miscellaneous people as they pass by almost randomly to prove his point. “But those people back there? They’re what you would call a ‘chaotic good’.”
“Chaotic good?” Kurt feels like he should be familiar with the concept but he’s not certain why. He remembers it indistinctly, like the background noise of a conversation that he wasn’t necessarily a party to. “What does that mean?”
“A person you can classify as a chaotic good is someone who acts the way his conscience tells him to, not the way others expect him to act,” Sebastian explains. “They believe in what’s good and right. They don’t really abide by laws; they just behave the way their moral compass tells them to.”
Kurt’s eyes light up.
“Ooo! That sounds cool!” he exclaims. He hops up on his injured foot and hisses. Sebastian rolls his eyes and redistributes all his cargo, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s waist to help shoulder some of his weight. “Do me next!”
“I will if you want me to, babe, but we should really wait until we reach the car.” Sebastian wiggles his eyebrows.
“Bas,” Kurt whines, pushing against Sebastian’s side with his hip.
“You’re easy,” Sebastian says suggestively. Kurt smacks him on the arm, but Sebastian only holds him tighter, maneuvering them toward the strip of parking spots and the dusty Mustang. It’s tricky and inefficient, like they’re trying to run a three-legged race. “I would say you’re a ‘lawful good’.”
Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“A lawful good?” he asks. ‘Lawful good’ strikes him as kind of dull. From the name alone, it sounds like it could be the exact opposite of what Kurt’s been aiming for during this vacation.
“Yup. Your lines in the sand, so to speak, are strictly drawn. Black and white. You side with what you know to be good and you battle evil. You tell the truth, you keep your word, you fight against injustice…”
Sebastian punctuates his points with kisses to the crown of Kurt’s head, but as he speaks, his voice wanders off and Kurt wonders - is that really the way Sebastian sees him? So definitively set in his ways? Always upright and honest?
“That sounds boring,” Kurt says with a thread of disappointment in his voice.
Sebastian shrugs.
“Boring isn’t necessarily bad,” he says. “To be honest, you’ve been boring eighty percent of the time and you still landed me.”
Sebastian smirks as Kurt kicks out with his good leg, but Sebastian picks him up and kisses him, effectively silencing any further attempt at violence. When Sebastian sets him back down, Kurt stares at him with a lopsided grin. Normally Kurt doesn’t permit PDA (a rule that’s becoming less hard-and-fast every second he spends with Sebastian), but he can definitely get into this thing Sebastian has for manhandling him anytime, anywhere.
“So, what does that make you?”
“Oh, babe,” Sebastian says with a chuckle, “I’m a ‘chaotic neutral’.”
Kurt rolls his eyes at the satisfaction in Sebastian’s voice at his declaration.
“So, what is a ‘chaotic neutral’?”
“I follow my whims,” he explains. “Look out for my own best interests. I have a problem with authority, resent restrictions…” He looks down at Kurt, leaning in to whisper into his ear, “…I’m unpredictable.”
Kurt is inclined to agree with that statement and he’s about to say so, but sudden comprehension derails his train of thought.
“Wait…” Kurt feels more sure than ever that he’s heard this all before. As with most of his less defined knowledge regarding popular culture, it’s something he overheard Finn and Puck discussing, something Kurt spurned as sad and pathetic. “Chaotic good, lawful good, chaotic neutral…” A grin of pure mischief forms on his face as he comes to the conclusion - “that’s from Dungeons and Dragons, isn’t it?”
Sebastian stands up straighter, his body going rigid, eyes focusing on the sand.
“N-not necessarily…”
Kurt rarely gets the chance to hear Sebastian stumble, and he basks in the effervescent glory of it.
“Oh, please don’t tell me somewhere there’s a story of little Sebby and his big brother Julian playing D&D in their parent’s basement?”
Kurt doesn’t stifle his grin but beams at Sebastian, punch drunk and giggling. Sebastian stares at him crossly, his mouth drawn in a thin, unamused line, though Kurt is sure that Sebastian is more amused than he lets on.
“Call me Sebby again,” Sebastian says drily, “and one of your precious Vivienne Westwood scarves will meet with an unfortunate accident.”
Kurt sobers up, but not completely. He’s not thrilled with the prospect of one of his favorite rare scarves getting shredded, but having this to hold over Sebastian’s head is too good to resist.
“You…wouldn’t…dare,” Kurt says sternly back, threat firmly implied.
Sebastian is more than willing to take that challenge.
“Try me.”
Kurt glares at Sebastian, unwilling to back down, but his foot slips into a hole in the sand and he almost plummets to the ground.
Sebastian’s arm around his waist, which up until now he’s taken for granted, rescues him from twisting his ankle and incapacitating himself any further.
Kurt recovers what’s left of his dignity, feeling Sebastian laugh beside him.
“Serves you right,” Sebastian grumbles but in a light-hearted tone.
Kurt feels his heart swell. He’s enjoying this - this banter back and forth. So, maybe Sebastian is growing and maturing and changing a bit, but so is Kurt. Everybody does. But they still have this - the old ‘them’ that they can always fall back on.
“You know,” Kurt says thoughtfully, eager to keep the verbal volley going, “you being into D&D actually explains so much.”
Sebastian’s next laugh is more of a derisive grunt than an actual laugh.
“Not that I’m interested in perpetuating this psychotic delusion any further, but what exactly would it explain?”
“Your sexual promiscuity,” Kurt says.
Sebastian’s head snaps so quickly to meet Kurt’s gaze that Kurt is sure he hears a few of Sebastian’s vertebrae crack.
Kurt nods with the weight of his sage wisdom.
“You’re obviously overcompensating for a closet Dungeons and Dragon obsession, hence the need for numerous sexual partners.”
Sebastian glowers, bristling all over as Kurt continues, but Kurt can’t seem to stop. That look in Sebastian’s eyes is dangerous and
exciting, and Kurt wants more of it aimed his way.
“You’re posturing,” Kurt continues, “showing off your sexual prowess to deflect from the fact that you’re actually…” Kurt pauses for effect, relishing the next few words, “a gigantic nerd.”
Sebastian glares at Kurt’s teasing face, eyes practically on fire, and frowns.
“That’s it,” he says. “You’ve lost your blanket privileges.”
“No!” Kurt squeals, holding tight to the blanket as Sebastian tugs it hard, shoving him over with his hip, trying to push him out. “No!
Okay! You’re not a nerd! I give! I give!” Kurt slips again, heading for the sand, and he’s thinks that this time Sebastian is going to let him face-plant completely as payback for his teasing, but Sebastian catches him again with the hand around his waist.
“God, you’re a fucking klutz, aren’t you?” Sebastian accuses, bringing Kurt up into his arms and hugging him this time, burying his nose into Kurt’s hair as he gives him a chance to rest his injured leg. Kurt balances awkwardly on one foot, holding his ankle up while he tries not to stumble in the sand.
“Hold this,” Sebastian says, handing Kurt his edge of the blanket. Kurt takes it and holds onto it while Sebastian slides his hand beneath Kurt’s knee and lifts it up, holding his hurt foot aloft and helping him maintain his balance.
Kurt bites his lip, counting about a hundred different times Sebastian has managed to make him mentally swoon this morning alone.
“Thanks,” Kurt mutters, noticing how with their bodies close together and his leg angled up this way he can feel everything about
Sebastian’s body, even more so when he was bent over backwards in his arms in the water.
It’s risqué and raunchy, but it makes Kurt want to drop down into the sand and try his hand at seducing Sebastian all over again, even though he’s confident the results would be the same.
“Seriously, though,” Kurt says, deflecting some of his mounting desire by drumming up more conversation, “how do you know that?”
Sebastian’s eyes are focused down at Kurt’s chest, not meeting his eyes, and Kurt realizes that past the racing of his own heart, which had started up again at the touch of Sebastian’s skin sandwiched against his own, he can feel Sebastian’s rapidly thumping heart beat as well.
“I had a contemporary European literature professor who used alignments as a framework for examining character loyalties in turn of the century French and German post World War II literature,” Sebastian says, his voice unsteady and less mocking in light of their current position. Kurt can only guess what Sebastian is thinking, imagining the two of them lying naked in the sand worshipping each other as well.
Kurt’s face is flushed when Sebastian looks at him. Kurt raises an eyebrow, his expression blank and somewhat skeptical.
“But yes, it’s from Dungeons and Dragons,” Sebastian admits finally.
“A-ha!” Kurt cheers. “I knew it!”
“You know nothing.” Sebastian lowers Kurt’s leg back to the ground and directs him toward the car.
“If it makes you feel any better, I imagine you as a twelfth level paladin,” Kurt says grinning, “or the dungeon master.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Sebastian groans, knowing he’s still being ruthlessly taunted, “and by the way, wouldn’t knowing all this make you a gigantic nerd?”
“I see it more as the unavoidable symptom of a communicable disease.”
“What disease?” Sebastian scoffs.
“Puck and Finn.”
Sebastian’s eyes shift to catch a glimpse of Kurt’s serious face.
“Okay,” Sebastian says, sympathizing as a brother to a brother, “you’re excused.”
“Thank you,” Kurt says dramatically, as if Sebastian’s approval justified Kurt’s whole existence.
Sebastian laughs.
“You do realize you called your stepbrother a disease, right?”
“He’ll live.” Kurt grimaces as they head up the slight embankment to the car.
The thirty or so steps up the embankment turn out to be the slowest steps of Kurt’s life. He hadn’t noticed that they had walked quite so far, but now that he can barely put any weight on his leg he curses all the adrenaline and enthusiasm that had propelled him down the beach in the first place.
“So, are we going to drive back inland now?” Kurt asks around a yawn.
“Nope,” Sebastian says, leaning Kurt up against the Mustang for support. He slips out from beneath the blanket, walking completely naked to the rear of the car. Not that Kurt minds at all. He stares blatantly at Sebastian’s toned ass until he rounds the rear of the vehicle, out of sight. Sebastian pops the trunk and rummages around for a bit, coming back with a duffel bag, a box of cornstarch, and several bottles of water. “I told you, there’s no way we’re getting off this beach tonight.”
“Why not?”
Sebastian doesn’t answer; he simply points in the direction of the way they came in. Kurt’s eyes follow the path of Sebastian’s finger and he sees groups of tents, campfires, the bodies of people passed out in the sand - all blocking their exit.
“What are we going to do then?” Kurt asks, not looking forward to sleeping with sand stuck to his body. Sebastian picks up one of the bottles of water and the box of cornstarch, shaking them in front of Kurt’s face, waiting expectantly for Kurt to guess.
“We’re going to make papier mache?” Kurt tilts his head and squints, not in the mood for guessing games.
Sebastian shakes his head.
“We’re going to take a camping shower.”
Kurt’s face drops, his expression going completely inscrutable while Sebastian starts opening the caps on the water bottles and lining them up on the roof of the car. Once that’s done, he opens the box of cornstarch, squeezing the sides of the box to soften up the powder inside. His turns around and finds Kurt standing, unmoved with the blanket still wrapped around him.
“Come on, babe.” Sebastian reaches out a hand and tugs at the rough cloth. “Open up.”
Kurt doesn’t know why he stalls. Didn’t he already strip for Sebastian? Hasn’t he seen him naked? Why is this different?
With shaking hands, Kurt opens the blanket and holds it wide, blocking the view of anyone who might walk behind him. Sebastian starts to dust Kurt’s skin with the cornstarch, coating his skin until it’s completely white. The powder puffs up toward Kurt’s nose, the tiny particulates irritating his sinuses. He moves to pinch his nose, but he stops halfway, knowing that doing so will involve either closing the blanket around him and hindering Sebastian’s progress or dropping the blanket completely.
“You know, this would be easier if you dropped the blanket,” Sebastian says, struggling to dust Kurt’s back with the wool cloth clutched in his fists. Sebastian’s gaze flicks up, catching Kurt sweeping his eyes over the parking lot. “Carlos isn’t here if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Where did he go?” Kurt coughs as he inhales a cloud of powder, but it’s a perfect cover for the question that he almost asked but really didn’t want to know the answer to - How do you know?
Sebastian shrugs.
“Probably to one of those tents,” Sebastian speculates, bending over to powder Kurt’s legs, carefully avoiding the sopping wet bandage encircling Kurt’s ankle. After Kurt is covered to Sebastian’s satisfaction, he grabs a clean dry towel from the duffel and starts knocking the cornstarch off Kurt’s body - the thin, smooth powder sliding off Kurt’s skin and taking the coarser sand along with it.
Kurt looks over the tents, most of them brightly lit from the inside, shadows and silhouettes dancing along the sides of some, showing clearly what the inhabitants are doing. Kurt briefly wonders which one Carlos might have commandeered for himself when a splash of water hits his shoulder.
“Jeesh!” Kurt hops back and Sebastian laughs.
“Settle down, Hummel. You don’t want to waste it.”
Mesmerized, Kurt stands, unmoving and lets Sebastian wash him, pouring bottled water over his skin and rinsing what’s left of the sand away. He closes his eyes just a moment when the water trickles in thin rivers around his hips and over the swell of his ass. It feels so intimate, even standing here on a public beach, surrounded by cars and the occasional passerby. They could be standing in the middle of a crowded mall on Black Friday for all Kurt cares. Sebastian rinses the sand from between his fingers, placing a quick kiss to his inside wrist before traveling down his legs. He unwraps Kurt’s bandage and flushes out the sting.
“Wh-where did you learn this?” Kurt asks, not so much curious but needing something to focus on while Sebastian cleans the sand off his ankle - a place Kurt didn’t know was an erogenous zone until Sebastian brushed his fingertips lightly against it.
“My father was an Eagle Scout,” Sebastian says, switching to Kurt’s other ankle, biting back a smile when a quiet moan slips past
Kurt’s lips, “my mom was a Cadet. They know all about this camping in the woods, living off of bark, and surviving the zombie apocalypse shit.”
“Oh yeah?” Kurt asks, the words somewhere between a breathy gasp and a whimper when Sebastian works his way back up Kurt’s leg toward his inner thigh. He tries to picture Gregory and Charlotte as weekend warriors, hiking in the wilderness, purifying water with a coffee can and some bleach, if for no other reason than to kill the hard-on that’s threatening to make an appearance.
Disturbingly enough, it doesn’t help in that capacity.
“Yeah,” Sebastian continues. “They took us to one of those endurance retreats in the California desert when I was in the fifth grade.
They thought it would be a bonding experience or something.”
Kurt shifts from one foot to the other, spreading his legs and swallowing hard, looking straight ahead, categorizing the cars in the lot by style and color, finding anything to draw his attention away from the water drizzling lightly down his stomach in a way that seems to direct the stream straight down his already half-hard cock.
Kurt has a suspicion that Sebastian chose that path on purpose.
“What happened?” Kurt says, steadying his voice, refusing to be flustered.
“Me, Liv, and Julian spent the whole trip taking bets on who would die or get eaten first, which turned into a huge argument over what part of the body is suitable for human consumption, and three hours later my parents called it quits and took us to Disneyland.”
Sebastian empties the rest of the bottle down Kurt’s chest, staring deep into his eyes as he does it, seeing something in Kurt’s gaze that he apparently likes because his smirk turns into a sultry grin and he licks his lips. He kisses Kurt quickly, slipping his tongue into Kurt’s mouth with a low growl and enough heat to leave Kurt wanting so much more. Then he breaks away and hands Kurt a fresh towel.
“You dry off and get dressed,” Sebastian commands, gesturing to the open duffel bag lying on the ground. “It’s my turn next.”
Kurt starts to dry off, watching Sebastian shower (if it can honestly be termed that). He starts the process over on himself, dusting his skin with the cornstarch and then swatting it off with the towel, brushing away the sand in a much rougher manner than he used on Kurt. Sebastian opens a bottle of water and pours it over himself, bending his neck back and starting beneath his chin. The water slides over his skin in a way that Kurt can almost feel, his own skin tingling with the memory of it. Sebastian sets aside the empty bottle and reaches for another one, but Kurt reaches a hand out for it, too. Their hands meet somewhere in the middle.
“Did you want me to…”
Sebastian looks at Kurt’s face, into his beckoning blue eyes, and his breath hitches in his throat.
“That’s okay,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll just take a second. Finish getting dressed. I don’t need you catching a cold.”
“Right,” Kurt says with a smirk to match Sebastian’s, “because you don’t want to have to take care of me?”
Sebastian’s grin burns brighter and he winks.
“That’s right.”
Dressing on the beach is a tricky business. Struck with a sudden case of modesty as more and more beach goers start heading towards their cars, Kurt attempts to keep the towel wrapped around his waist and manages, at least, to get his shirt on that way. But keeping the towel from slipping while balancing on one leg and negotiating pants is a feat bordering on the extraterrestrial, so eventually he has to abandon propriety, and bares ass so he can bend over and put on the sweat pants Sebastian lent him. Kurt dresses carefully, trying not to get sand in the leg of the pants. Luckily, the sweats have loose elastic around the ankle and Kurt opens it wide to slip each foot through. He stops every once in a while to continue watching Sebastian rinse the sand off his skin. He starts to feel guilty, thinking that maybe he shouldn’t, that he’s peeking in on a private moment, but then Sebastian catches his eye and smiles.
“Do you see something you like, Hummel?” he asks cheekily.
“Geez,” Kurt says with a roll of his eyes, “isn’t that the most overused statement of our generation?”
“I’m not sure,” Sebastian says. “I think it might be tied with ‘baby bump’ and ‘I don’t think so’. Oh, and let’s not forget the ever popular
‘I’ve got your back’.”
Kurt nods in agreement. He turns to the car and picks up a bottle, holding it out to Sebastian. Sebastian takes it, but doesn’t continue bathing. He waits for an answer to his question, overused or not.
“So, do you?” he repeats.
Kurt feels color rising to his cheeks, burning so brightly that he knows even the night and the shadows can’t hide it, which is good in the long run. It gives him the freedom to be honest.
“Everything,” Kurt says with awe. “I like everything about you. You…you’re gorgeous.”
This time it’s Sebastian who turns his head to hide his blush.
“What?” Kurt asks. “You can’t tell me you haven’t heard that from someone before. I won’t believe it.”
Sebastian pours what’s left of the water down his legs and holds the empty plastic bottle in both hands, crushing it flat.
“No,” he says. “I haven’t. Not like that.”
It never dawned on Kurt, not once since he’s known him, that of all those boys and men that Sebastian must have been with that not one of them would have paid him a compliment - an honest compliment, that is. Kurt was sure that’s where the bulk of his overly vaulted sense of self-esteem had come from. Sebastian must have heard he was handsome, but probably in that way that people tell you what you want to hear in order to get something out of you.
Kurt wants Sebastian to look at him, to give Kurt permission to comfort him, but Sebastian doesn’t look at him right away. He dresses
on autopilot, his eyes distant as he puts on his clothes. He’s lost in his thoughts and Kurt lets him stay there, not put out at being ignored, giving Sebastian whatever time he needs. Sebastian clears away the empty water bottles and the cornstarch, putting them beside the pile of their sandy clothes, the duffel bag, and the wool blanket in the trunk before he speaks to Kurt again.
“Uh…I brought a tent if you want to set it up on the beach,” Sebastian offers.
“That sounds…amazing,” Kurt admits, “but I’m exhausted. I think if I take another step I’m going to die.”
Sebastian chuckles, shaking his head, and all of a sudden Kurt’s boyfriend is back. Sebastian opens the passenger door to the Mustang. He leans down and pulls up a lever, collapsing the seat forward.
“Climb on in, babe,” Sebastian instructs, gesturing to the back seat.
“But…but it’s tiny,” Kurt complains around another, more persistent, yawn.
“Kurt,” Sebastian says sternly, “nothing about this car is tiny.”
“Does that include the car’s owner?” Kurt teases, climbing into the back seat with Sebastian close behind.
“Don’t you know it,” he answers back, swatting Kurt on the ass. (Kurt is beginning to get the impression that Sebastian is an ass man.)
Sebastian shuts the door behind them and locks it. He grabs a pillow and a blanket that he had stashed in the front seat at some point when Kurt wasn’t paying any attention.
“This is going to be a tight squeeze,” Kurt says, climbing onto the seat with Sebastian, cautiously kneeling down so that he doesn’t unwittingly knee Sebastian in the groin.
“Those are the best kind,” Sebastian mumbles, adjusting beneath Kurt’s body, maneuvering so that they better fit together.
It’s not perfect, and by no means the most comfortable sleeping arrangement. They shimmy up to adjust and readjust several times - Kurt lifting up so Sebastian can scoot further down the seat, then doing it one more time so Sebastian can scoot back up again, half twisting separately, then together, Kurt draping an arm over Sebastian, and then Sebastian wrapping an arm around Kurt and holding him tight - until the pillow rests behind Sebastian’s neck just right and Kurt curls against his boyfriend’s body in a way that means none of his limbs will fall go numb, even though Sebastian is practically holding him suspended in mid-air. Kurt giggles once, imagining what the rocking Mustang must look like to the casual outside observer.
They settle down finally, and what at first blush seemed like an ill-conceived idea (with Kurt constantly questioning if he should swallow his pride and ask Sebastian to build the tent after all) turns into something enchanting. The back seat of the Mustang becomes their own quiet safe haven; secluded from the ocean air and the prying eyes of stragglers roaming the beach. They stop moving at the same time, catch each other’s gaze in the dark, and all at once without any words spoken Sebastian is kissing Kurt, or Kurt is kissing Sebastian. It happens so suddenly that Kurt can’t tell who starts it, but he doesn’t want it to end.
Kurt chuckles quietly in the space between kisses.
“How did this happen?” he asks, closing the gap for another inevitable kiss.
“How did what happen?” Sebastian hums against Kurt’s lips.
“This,” Kurt says, sweeping his eyes around the car as a gesture meant to imply everything that’s transpired between them so far, “us. How did that happen?”
Sebastian shrugs, kissing a patch of skin below Kurt’s ear, running a hand up his neck, fingertips grazing lightly.
“I’m not sure,” Sebastian admits, “but I learned a long time ago not to question a good thing when it comes along.”
“Am I a good thing?” Kurt asks, thinking about all those boys, all those men who have probably used Sebastian over the years. That isn’t to say Sebastian didn’t use a few of them, too, but Kurt doesn’t care about those nameless, faceless strangers. He cares about Sebastian - a beautiful boy who only wants a chance to love someone, and feel loved in return.
Kurt doesn’t overthink kissing Sebastian. He lets whatever is going to happen come in its own time. He gives his body permission to do and be. His hands roam over Sebastian’s body, toying with the hem of his soft, white t-shirt, fingertips brushing at the slightly salt-dry but smooth skin underneath.
“Kurt,” Sebastian mutters when Kurt snakes his hands beneath the elastic waistband of Sebastian’s sweatpants and finds him hard and aching beneath his fingers. Kurt takes hold, takes control, and strokes him slowly.
“Kurt…” It’s a question, a plea, and it’s deliciously broken. Sebastian’s hands are on him, reaching for him, but Kurt moves out of his grasp. Kurt wants to experience this in its entirety, without any distractions. “Kurt…”
Kurt deliberately experiments with pressure, speed, a slight twist of his fist, finding all those subtle variations that make Sebastian shudder and gasp beneath him. Kurt feels his own desire grow at every breathless mention of his name, but he’s determined to finish what he started.
“Kurt…” Sebastian finally grabs hold of Kurt’s hand and stills his movements.
“Sebastian…” Kurt objects.
“No, Kurt…” Sebastian interrupts. “No, it’s not that. I need you. Please.”
Sebastian helps Kurt climb over him, repositioning their bodies in the confines of the car so that Kurt can lay on him. Sebastian’s legs drop open at the knees so that Kurt can rest between them and Kurt picks up where he stopped earlier. The temperature inside the Mustang rises sharply as Kurt moves, his forehead damp with perspiration at the strain of staying balanced in such a cramped space, but it’s worth it when he feels that first surge of pleasure course through his body, and Sebastian arches his back and moans.
“God, yes!” Sebastian groans, loud enough to be heard outside the car, evidenced by the muted sound of cheering they can hear from the owners of the Lexus parked next to them. “Yes, Kurt! Right…right there. D-don’t stop…”
Sebastian’s tortured muttering is just as sexy, maybe even more so, than his drawn out, sinful moans every time Kurt rolls his hips down, sliding their cocks together. Kurt had been so nervous about initiating this, so nervous that he would pale in comparison, but he reminds himself that Sebastian’s former exploits mean nothing.
They are nothing.
It’s in the past, the same way Blaine is swiftly becoming a part of Kurt’s past.
Sebastian wants Kurt. With every scrape of his nails down Kurt’s back, with every rise of his hips to meet Kurt’s thrusts, with every pant and whimper and shudder - Sebastian wants Kurt.
Sebastian watches Kurt snap his hips above him because he needs to see him there.
There is no one else.
Sebastian lets Kurt take him, and when he cums again, after hours spent kissing and teasing and edging so close just to be pulled apart again, it’s with Kurt’s name on his lips and their fingers laced together.
Sebastian cums because of Kurt, and for Sebastian, it’s almost like a dream.
“Finally,” Sebastian groans. “I didn’t know how many more near misses I was going to be able to take.”
“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, still hovering in the delirium of his own orgasm. “I guess this car is bigger on the inside than it seems.”
Kurt stares down into Sebastian’s face, and in the light coming in through the windows Kurt can see the track of a single tear staining Sebastian’s cheek. Kurt longs to lean over and kiss it away, but he decides not to. Sebastian, in many ways, is still so guarded about certain feelings; he still has so many secrets. He might not be ready to share this one.
Kurt has one or two of his own that he’s not ready to reveal, even though the loose lips that come with post-coital bliss are dying to spill everything.
“How do you feel?” Kurt asks, half-hoping that Sebastian might come clean on his own.
“I feel like I need to go get my suspension checked because I think we rocked my Mustang pretty hard,” Sebastian jokes. He raises a hand and wipes the tear away but says nothing about, and Kurt sighs knowing that is another puzzle piece he’s going to have to come to terms with letting go.
“Please,” Kurt scoffs. “You have an American muscle car with an independent rear suspension. I’m sure she can handle us rocking her a little bit.”
Sebastian stares for a moment, and then pulls Kurt down on top of his.
“Yes,” he moans, “talk automotive to me! It gets me so hot!”
“Yeah, I bet,” Kurt laughs. “Tell me you brought one of those towels in here so I don’t have to go to sleep with a mess down my pants this time.”
“Are you always this high-maintenance?” Sebastian reaches into the front seat, grabs a towel, and hands it to Kurt.
“I didn’t know that not wanting to sleep in a pool of bodily fluids constituted being high-maintenance,” Kurt argues, slipping the end of the towel into the front of his sweatpants to clean himself off. Sebastian grabs the opposite end and does the same. Kurt raises an eyebrow.
“So, does that mean you’re high-maintenance, too?” Kurt jeers, dropping his end of the towel when he finishes.
“Nope,” Sebastian says, wrapping the towel in a ball and shoving it to the floor when he’s done, “I ‘m piggybacking off a good idea.”
Kurt curls up in roughly the same position as before, with his head on Sebastian’s chest, and melts onto his boyfriend’s body much easier now that they’re both relaxed. Kurt can hear Sebastian’s breathing along with his heart beating against his ear. It’s calm and soothing, and his body responds to it - his own breathing slowing to match, his own heart quieting to equal its pace.
Sebastian pulls the forgotten blanket around them, tucking it around Kurt to keep him warm. Before the thought of saying ‘good-night’ even enters his mind, he hears Kurt’s breathing even out, and he knows that Kurt’s already asleep.
Sebastian stares up at the ceiling of his Mustang, fighting the pull of sleep long enough to let one more tear slip, holding on to this bittersweet feeling for as long as he can.