Day 1: Kurt was never a fan of borrowing costumes, but this costume just draws him in.
Warning: handjob, masturbation
Kurt Hummel loves Halloween. It is his favourite holiday because it has all the sweets Valentine's has to offer and there is no greater opportunity for fashion than the night of Halloween. There's something about dressing up without bounds and he loved that he can go as anybody he wants as soon as the holiday season kicks in. He loves the freedom it brings him whenever he comes up with the costumes he would wear for the annual Trick or Treat Party that the school organizes. He's never won any of the costume categories, for some reason people can't place his costumes, but that has never stopped him from coming up and consequently, almost spending ¾ of his allowance with fabulous and party-stopping costumes. That's why it didn't come as a surprise to him that his father demanded him to put a cap on it when he started going on and on about his design that would require him access to that advertised attachment for his Sewing Genie.
"No, Kurt," Burt said with a sigh. "I won't lend you extra money so that you can buy that attachment."
"I'm only asking you for 10 bucks," Kurt said, exasperated and clearly tired of his father scrimping on him. "It's just 10 bucks, dad! I can pay you off that 10 bucks! I'm just really short now."
"No, Kurt. I honestly don't understand how you can fall short of 10 bucks," Burt replied as he sank down in his armchair. "You told me so yourself, you've been saving up for this thing for weeks, how come you're still short?"
"I didn't know they'd change their rates so fast!" Kurt argued.
"You could sue them for that you know."
"Or I could pay them the extra 10 bucks that I will borrow from you, Dad. Please, think of it as an investment. If I couldn't do this simple thing without that attachment, then how am I supposed to further improve my skills by taking on more challenging pieces without that attachment? And," Kurt paused for breath. "Before you shoo me off to the nearest tailor let me just make it clear to you that that option would be much less economical than the $10 I'm asking to borrow."
"No, Kurt. I don't need your chart. But you need to control your spending on such things, so I still won't lend you even if it is 10 bucks, especially since it's not a matter of life and death."
Kurt levels his father a glare, one which Burt doesn't hesitate to return. Seeing that his father would not cave in, he turns around and huffs. "Fine. If you won't lend me, I'm pretty sure Carole would," he says before he leaves the room, not without banging the door.
"Oh don't worry! I told them not to lend you any."
And that is how Kurt finds himself in this miserable thrift/costume shop full of second-hand and by the smell of it, authentic period costumes.
"Of all the costume shops in town, you choose the smelliest and oldest one with the most mite-infested period costumes," Kurt spits out as he looks through the racks of various ensembles for males. "I never thought I could truly hate you, Mercedes, until now."
"Oh shush," Mercedes says as she peruses her own rack of female period costumes. She brings up a pale yellow bodice and ball skirt ensemble with matching sheer sleeves. "What do you think of this?"
"It looks like someone with the plague was buried in it," Kurt says, continuing his perusal of the costumes. "Seriously, why this shop, Mercedes?"
"Well," Mercedes brings out another ensemble, this time it had a maroon, velvet, a-line skirt with a dirty white, ¾ sleeve top with a black, leather-looking corset. Kurt shrugs at her and she puts it in her must try basket. "You remember the party I told you about?"
Kurt nods in response. "The one in Westerville?"
"Yeah," Mercedes says, she's walking towards the 1800's aisle and Kurt has no choice but to follow her. "Well, Nelson, my cousin, has two tickets for me, and I was hoping you'd come with me?"
"You couldn't have asked me before you dragged me into this?" Kurt says with a fond shake of his head.
"You'd say yes anyway," Mercedes says with a shrug. "What's wrong with skipping a step?"
"True," Kurt acquiesces. "But you couldn't have chosen a better maintained costume shop? I, for a fact, know that there is a perfectly nice costume shop near Westerville."
"The theme is 1800s to 1900s, this is the only costume shop which caters specifically to that theme that is miles away from Dalton. Besides, these are authentic! You wouldn't pass that up, right?" she says with a wink, and then prances her way through the racks of authentic period wear.
Kurt only frowns at her prancing. He looks at the costumes around him in disdain, it would take a miracle for him to find a costume he likes.
It didn't take him a miracle to find the costume he trusts is safe enough to try on and he could see himself in, in fact, it only took him ten minutes and a few doors to pass. The ensemble lay behind 2 doors, and was still in a plastic laundry bag. It looks new, but the heaviness of the outfit betrays its age, it is obviously authentic and well taken care of.
"It will be absolutely perfect for you."
Kurt turns around and sees a boy of his age, tall and lanky, with light brown hair hidden beneath his maroon beanie, his face hidden behind chunky, black framed glasses, standing, leaning on the door jam.
"I'm sorry," Kurt backpedals immediately. "Is this not for rent?"
The guy shakes his head. "It is," he says. "We actually just got it back from dry-cleaning."
"Oh?" Kurt raises his eyebrow at this. "One of your top-rented pieces?" he asks as his eyes run over the great detail in the ensemble. The forest green tailcoat was finely embroidered with shimmering silver thread and the silver buttons were exceptionally shiny. The cream shirt underneath had fine threaded designs and the ruffles on it appeared to be made of silk. The accompanying waistcoat was a heather grey one that had gold threaded stripes, and the pants were of a deep and dark purple colour. It was a lovely ensemble and the colours were very striking for something so old.
"No," the stranger smiles fondly at the way Kurt was looking at the ensemble. "It's actually unpopular. Most of the guys are jarred by the colour combination."
"Oh. I think it's actually nice," Kurt says with a shrug. He turns around to face a mirror, and holds it up against him. "It's," he stops, unable to find the right words. The colour of the ensemble against his pale skin made for great contrast and he's honestly a little bit excited to try it on.
"It's made for you," the guy says and Kurt is surprised to find him just a few inches behind him. The stranger's warmth was oddly comforting and welcoming and Kurt didn't feel the need to jump away or feel violated with the little space in between them.
"You could try it on if you want," he says, his breath brushing over the hairs on Kurt's neck and Kurt stiffens, a certain warmth tickling him, traveling from his nape through his spine.
Kurt's eyes find the stranger's on the reflection; and if he was shocked to see how green it was, as if battling with the forest green of the coat in his hands, he didn't show it. "I could?" he asks breathlessly, just a bit reluctant and hoping that he won't be rejected.
"Of course," the guy smiles at him and places a gentle hand on the curve of his back and reaches out for the ensemble. Kurt could only feel giddy and lightheaded as he was lead to a small cubicle. "Here," he hands Kurt the ensemble, "Just let me know if you need any help."
Kurt just smiles at him in thanks, not fully trusting himself that he wouldn't be saying anything embarrassing, and locks the door with a soft click, the stranger's face burning in his memory.
When he slips on the velvety, purple pants, he stills. The pants are not even halfway through his thighs, but he drops his hands off them and braces himself against the wall of the cubicle. He doesn't remember closing his eyes but he is assaulted with sensations and scenes playing beneath his eyelids.
Hands were running up and down his thigh. Nails are digging into the soft flesh of his bare thigh and Kurt wonders where his pants are since they seem to have magically disappeared.
"Kurt."
It was whispered on his skin, Kurt can feel the lips forming his name on the inside his thighs. There were kisses being dropped on his lower body and Kurt feels frozen. A hand makes its way near his crotch, finally resting on his hipbone; and his breath hitches, his mind panicking. He wants to close his legs but he couldn't move his legs, he's stuck.
"Kurt, Kurt, Kurt."
Kurt's eyes are closed tight and his name is whispered and embedded on his skin by the guy's kisses. Something in him tells him that he shouldn't be letting anyone do this to him, dream sequence or not, but he can't help it. It feels so real and surreal at the same time. He pants through the guy lazily kissing and licking up his thighs and he briefly wonders how this could have happened. "Oh God," he breathes out as he feels the familiar warmth coil and start in his belly. Just as he was about to remove his hands off the wall and place it on the phantom head between his legs, he gets jerked out of the scene and his eyes immediately open.
"What the hell?"
He looks at his reflection and finds himself dressed exactly the way he was before. Feet bare, pants halfway through his thighs, and his own shirt still on. What just happened? He feels the floor with his bare feet, looking for a vent or some kind of trap door that could have let air pass and made him feel that – sensitive. When he finds nothing, he shifts his focus to the mirror, looking for anything; knocking on it to make sure it's on a wall and not some creepy, hollow entranceway. It doesn't sound hollow to him, so he shrugs it all off. Maybe it's just my imagination.
He tugs the pants up and sighs in relief when the sensation of being in a play where he doesn't know his cues and his part doesn't come in. After that, he carefully strips himself of his shirt. He takes a deep breath when he picks up the cream shirt that comes with the costume. He doesn't realize that he's holding his breath until he releases it as both his right and left arms slide in through the sleeves.
"You're being silly, Kurt," he snorts as he does the buttons up. Nothing happens to him as he finishes fixing the shirt. He eyes the waistcoat with the same apprehension, not even bothering to check his reflection if he has properly tucked in his shirt or not. When he reaches for the waistcoat and he doesn't feel a tingling that might clue him into what's going to happen, he smiles and shakes his head, mentally reprimanding himself for being so, so insane.
He puts on the waistcoat, and then the tailcoat and moves to adjust a string behind it, but finds none. It doesn't really matter to him though, he thinks, as he checks the fit on him. He's impressed, it fits him perfectly and if he didn't know any better, it would seem as if it was tailored specifically for him.
He briefly remembers the stranger's words. It's made for you.
Kurt doesn't find the stranger, strange boy outside the cubicle, nor outside the room where he found the ensemble; instead he finds him on the cashier with a slightly pissed Mercedes. Mercedes' eyes light up when they fall on him.
"I thought you've left!" Mercedes almost shrieks at him when he reaches the cashier where the strange boy is standing behind.
"I just got lost," he replies, shooting a glance on the guy who was currently ringing up Mercedes' purchases. "You find yourself a costume?"
"Of course," Mercedes huffs. "He's ringing it up. You?"
"Yeah, I did," he brings up the ensemble that is neatly tucked into the laundry bag.
"Where did you find it?" Mercedes asks. "You know I was talking about what styles and what era I should take, and then I turn around and find that you were gone! Thank god this guy was able to help me."
Kurt looks at the stranger who is oddly quiet and smiles at him when their eyes meet. "I don't know, I just found it," he answers with a shrug and he looks back at Mercedes as he puts the laundry bag on the counter.
"Or maybe," the guy starts, placing his hand directly on top of Kurt's hand. Kurt wants to shake it off but he is caught at the familiar feeling of those hands. "It found you, Kurt."
Mercedes laughs, and Kurt chuckles, slowly inching his hands away from its entrapment beneath the stranger's hand. "Maybe it did."
Kurt doesn't remember the incident until the night of the Trick or Treat party at Dalton, three days after their shopping trip. Oddly enough, the presence of the costume, newly dry-cleaned (again, because he's pretty sure he won't be at ease unless he knows it's been dry-cleaned in the span of a week), and neatly hanging inside his closet, doesn't trigger any of the weird happenings in the costume store. It's when he was finishing arranging the coat and fixing his collar that the memories come rushing back.
They weren't the same scenes.
"Sebastian."
Someone whispers.
"Sebastian."
It comes out as a moan and Kurt is surprised to hear it come out of him.
"Sebastian," Kurt breathes out, completely lost in the vision. The lips that were previously so well acquainted with his inner thighs are now on his neck. Nipping. Licking. Sucking at random spots. "Fuck."
The guy, Sebastian, Kurt assumes, abandons his neck and then buries his nose in Kurt's hair and tightens his arms around Kurt's waist. His hands roam freely over Kurt's layer of clothes, touch light and teasing. Sebastian's hands make their way to the bottom of Kurt's waistcoat, looking for that fold of clothe that is part of his shirt. When he finds it, he successfully tugs it out of Kurt's pants with an a-ha and Kurt has to bite his lip to keep himself from begging. With his shirt fully untucked from his pants, Sebastian puts his hands underneath his shirt, one hand going up, nails scratching on Kurt's muscles; the other hand is going down, playfully scratching the v that leads to his slowly hardening member. When his hand slip into the garter of the pants and bumped the hot flesh of his member, Kurt keens.
"Please, more," he pleads, stretching his neck further, letting his head nestle in the crook of Sebastian's neck. "More Sebastian," he gasps brokenly as Sebastian toys with the coarse hair around his member.
"You're begging now?" Sebastian whispers into his ear. Kurt whimpers and lets himself collapse on Sebastian's body behind him. Kurt can feel Sebastian grinning against his ear and he can't help but gasp when Sebastian bites his earlobe. Kurt trembles, a moan emitted deep from his tummy as if the mere actions Sebastian does pushes and manipulates the movements of his internal organs.
"Please," Kurt pants as he buries himself deeper into Sebastian's arms and he idly wonders how Sebastian is still standing up when he couldn't even find it in himself to support his weight since his knees are so eager to give out.
"The perfect, master Hummel, begging so wantonly," Sebastian says in between kisses. Kurt bites his lips again when Sebastian's uncut fingernails trace along his member. "What would your father say?" he pants against Kurt's neck as he continues running down his fingers on opposite directions along Kurt's body. "When he sees you submit to the tailor's son?"
"Sebastian."
Sebastian smirks against his neck. His fingers have stopped teasing Kurt, instead he was now palming over Kurt's hardened member, loving every twitch it makes and the corresponding breathy, little gasps Kurt does when he varies the pressure. "You love this don't you? Completely at my mercy, I bet your stuck up attitude can't take it, right? You just can't take how good, how filthy I can make you feel, right, Master?"
Kurt bites his lip again, and the thought that his lips might fall off him comes to him as quickly as it goes. He is at a loss for words. He would like to scream, shout at Sebastian and tell him how he really feels but he can't find the thoughts in his brain. It's like his brain was only capable of recognizing Sebastian and Sebastian alone. When Sebastian forms a circle with his fist and starts jerking him off, Kurt stutters a fuck.
"It's Hallow's Eve, master," Sebastian talks as he squeezes and drags his fist along Kurt's erection. "Everyone's out for the mass but us, master." Kurt hums in agreement. "You can be as loud as you want, master," Sebastian drawls as he digs his thumb through the slit.
"As loud as you want."
Kurt screams, his hand moving over his erection faster as he chases the remnants of the vision. He pulls at his member hard as the image of Sebastian comes rushing back to the forefront of his brain. Light brown hair falling just beneath his green eyes, a face so unfamiliar with smiling and yet it oddly suits him. A body so tall and lanky, yet he's pretty sure that he wouldn't be surprised to find a delicious set of abs and muscles on him. He quickens his pace, the phantom kisses and licks on his neck urging him to completion.
He comes with a whimper.
It must have been a dream, Kurt thinks as he straightens his costume again. But it obviously wasn't, he thinks derisively. Not when I have my hands down my pants and my pants shoved to my ankles.
He pretends that he didn't just jerk off to the spitting image of the strange boy in the costume shop.
When they make it to the Dalton Trick or Treat Party, Kurt honestly just doesn't know what to expect. He's never one to expect from new things since he doesn't feel that he has a right to even assume, so basically, everything comes as a surprise to him. From the way the hall was tastelessly decorated with cobwebs and plastic spiders and crafted pumpkins (seriously, this was a boarding school with tuition of epic proportions) to the cute themed cupcakes that seems to be on every table, every little thing was just a surprise to him. It was so different to the annual Halloween party held in McKinley, and he's still on the fence on whether that was a good or a bad thing.
He loses sight of Mercedes and Nelson as soon as they find a table in the corner though. He sighs, he's ready to resign himself in a night without Mercedes and surrounded by people he barely even knew, yelling trick or treat. In a way, McKinley's was better, at least he knew some people there. His eyes fall on the serving of caramelized fruits in the middle of the table and he wonders how long they've been exposed and if it was still healthy for consumption. He doesn't, however, bother to find out and instead chooses to nibble on the candies that surround the caramelized fruits.
He's on his third (vodka-filled?) gummy bear, and nth candy when a masked guy, dressed in an ensemble that reminds him the time period of his own costume, approaches him. The boy had light brown hair, styled like one of those that can be seen on Gossip Girl, and he had a slight smirk on his lips. He places his jack-o-lantern (registration-issued collection baskets for candy; Kurt has his own, but Nelson and Mercedes commandeered it, claiming that they are the best trick-or-treaters in the room), and Kurt has to raise an eyebrow at this.
"Trick or treat?" the guy asks, and Kurt, for the life of him, finds the voice familiar but he just can't place it. Was it the mall? Was it the costume shop? Was it the not-so-dream? He sure looks like the strange boy in the shop. Kurt is brought out of his reminiscing when the boy taps his empty jack-o-lantern on the table. "Trick or treat?"
"Treat," Kurt says with a smile as he places handful of candies from the table top in the guy's jack-o-lantern. He was about to pull his hand away when the guy suddenly stops him with his own, holding Kurt's wrist.
Kurt tugs a bit, but the guy doesn't let go. "This isn't funny," he says when his head begins to cloud, and he can feel the tell-tale signs of memory assault happening.
The guy smiles at him in response but lets go of Kurt's hand. "Happy Hallow's Eve, Master Hummel."
Kurt is shocked, and maybe a little creeped out when he watches the guy turn away from him and walk towards the middle of the hall, only to disappear right before his eyes.
End of Part 1.
Author's Note: This is part 1, of hopefully 3 or 4 oneshots that is inspired by the Kurtbastian Halloween Week theme. The parts will be coming from the 4 daily themes: trick or treat (candy & costumes), nightmares, lost, and au. And this is my first time writing ermsmut.