A/N: Written for the Kurtbastian Hiatus prompt 1920's - 40's. I wrote Kurt very young and very foolhardy in this. It was meant to read that way on-purpose. He's supposed to exemplify a Southern Belle type of persona. AU, soulmates, past lives, vampire. Warning for minor mention of blood, fingering, 69, anal sex, barebacking, sort of forced drug use (shotgunning), alcohol, masturbation, underage (Kurt is 17).
Kurt stood on his balcony, dressed for bed in a white cotton shirt and pants, caught in a daze, adrift in the midst of a waking dream. He gazed into the clear, moon-drenched night sky and tried desperately to hold on to what few hours remained of the day. There was a breeze now that the sun had set, and the air, saturated with humidity, was cooler than it had been earlier. Kurt had wanted so much out of today. He wanted to grab hold of it in both hands and squeeze it tight, wring it of every minute, but duty kept him indoors, and indoors was where the romantic in him – the one seduced by the beauty, the color, and the richness of this new city he was in – had steadily begun to shrivel.
The day began promisingly enough, with the sun warming the dew-dappled trees, its light streaming past the branches, throwing rays through his open balcony doors and gently tanning his sleeping face. He woke to the smell of flowers with pungent fragrances foreign to his senses. Their perfume clung to his walls and curtains, scenting the air. The clopping of horse-drawn carriages down the road blended with the occasional automobile puttering by charmed a smile from his lips. He peered up from his four-poster bed to see the sun alive in the sky. He had seen many different sunrises in his young life, each with its own spectacular signature of light and color, but none had seemed quite as glorious or heaven blessed as those that he had the immense fortune to witness from his nest overlooking the river.
But the spectacular morning waned mercilessly on into a dull afternoon so numbing that it made the blood in his veins slow. His father had informed Kurt over breakfast that he had called a lunch meeting with his new business associates and he expected Kurt to make an appearance. Kurt sighed but dared not show too much displeasure lest he get another lecture about how fortunate they were and how everything his father had done so far to get them newly established as men of good standing had all been for Kurt.
Kurt cared nothing for meetings or putting on a show. All he cared about was that another beautiful afternoon would be sacrificed for the sake of his father's business associates, who seemed to delight in having Kurt paraded before them – the second player in the Hummel rags to riches story. Kurt's apathy didn't mean that he wasn't glad of their fortune. Of everyone they knew back in Lima, they were among the few who had escaped the Depression relatively unscathed. Thank the Lord for his father's insane fear of banks. The few investments they did have floated instead of sunk, and now here they were - a mechanic and his son living the high life after so many others had put a pistol in their mouths.
It seemed almost too morbid to feel relieved about.
For the benefit of people he didn't even know by name, Kurt continually forced himself into the same starched white suit (It came all the way from Europe, Kurt, just like the ones you always talked about back home. Now we can afford the finer things and you don't want to wear it? I don't get you sometimes, son…) and sipped cup after cup of Earl Gray till it made him sick to his stomach. Six men dressed in the same black suit lined the edges of a long mahogany table with his father seated at one end and Kurt seated at the opposite end. The company, for the most part, spent lunch mourning the absolutely perfect day, complaining that the weather was too hot and wet for their taste, the air too thick and the sun too bright.
Kurt occupied his thoughts away from their mindless prattle for as long as he could with images of the verdant vineyards surrounding the property, and the cobblestone streets peppered with quaint shops and street vendors. Though they ate lunch outside the east wing and far from the line of windows that faced the street, Kurt heard the lively commotion of traffic, of children playing, of people walking and talking, of strolling musicians performing on their way to town. He felt close to tears, wanting so much to be a part of it, but he knew there was no leaving their hotel without getting caught.
But as soon as he could manage it, Kurt escaped to his room.
A tepid bath awaited him, the basin filled to overflowing, the largest gardenia blossoms he had ever beheld in his life floating on the water's surface. Kurt ran his fingers through the bath, sending waves to set the blooms bobbing. He walked over to his full-length mirror and stood before it. There he watched himself undress, peeling off each article of clothing and dropping it onto a soft pile on the floor. He gazed at his own figure in the reflection, eying how different he looked now that he could afford to take care of his skin and hair, now that they didn't live solely on pickle and butter sandwiches. He smiled. Money did have its perks.
He slipped into the tub. Inch by inch he allowed the water to envelope his body. It felt decadent, sinful. Never before had he had the luxury of a tub so generous that he could soak his entire body in it. He became enamored by the sensation and ordered up a bath as often as he could. He drew his blunt nails lightly along his legs, from his ankles to his inner thighs, enjoying the tingles each pass sent up his skin. They pooled in his stomach, overflowing and traveling lower until his cock began to grow full and heavy with the heat of it. He reached beneath the water and wrapped his hand around the length, slipping the long fingers of his other hand further between his legs. He watched the water ripple as he massaged his own velvety skin, stroking slowly while a finger moved deep inside him. He bit his lower lip, fighting to quell his own gasps of pleasure, the water bouncing in small waves off the side of the tub, spilling onto the carpet.
He shuddered, nearly crying out, and came hard beneath the water the way he always did. It was an experience he had never had before, being able to take his time, enjoy it, feel it for what it was – a pleasure, not just a release. But that wasn't all there was to it. Ever since he and his father arrived in New Orleans, Kurt felt like he was becoming a whole new person - not just because he was growing into his own skin, having recently become a young man of seventeen with all the physical changes that went hand-in-hand with it – but he felt like he was meant to be here. In some ways, it felt like déjà vu. He would see things around him, pass them on the street – buildings, trees, a piece of the sky with a particular wisp of cloud – that would resonate familiarly with him. He felt like something awaited him here. It called for him, sang to him.
He felt in this solitude, in this private space meant only for him, that something watched over him.
Something dangerous.
He swore it even touched him.
He rested a moment in the chill water while he calmed his breathing, hanging his arms and legs over the edge of the tub, letting the air dry his skin.
And that feeling of being watched grew stronger.
After the tensions of the afternoon seemed quite at rest in his body, he shoved himself back into the same nightmarish suit and met the entourage downstairs for watercress soup and finger sandwiches. As the meal progressed, Kurt began to realize what a horrendous mistake he had made stealing a few precious moments for himself. Everyone smiled at him a little judgmentally, a little patronizingly, as if they knew fully well what he had spent the last hour doing. Business conversation continued. Eyes darted his way from time to time, and Kurt felt trapped. His face rushed with color. His suit clung to his body as sweat rolled down his shoulders, collecting at the small of his back. Right before talk of dinner had begun, he excused himself hurriedly to the disappointment of all, especially his father. Kurt would have done anything to avoid it, but he couldn't.
He was suffocating.
Kurt tore off his jacket, his button down shirt, and his tie as he bounded up the spiral staircase to his room. When he reached the double doors, he tossed them open wide and with too much force. Both doors hit the wall behind them with a resounding 'crack'. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his pants, tripping over the last remaining vestiges of his stylish straightjacket and tossing it to the floor.
He leapt headlong onto his bed and melted into the cool cotton sheets. With the pastel lamps lit, he listened to the sounds of Lush Life playing on the radio. Lying against raised pillows, trying hard to slow his pounding heart and ease his pounding head, he took that moment to distract himself by examining the extravagant room. His father had spared no expense with regard to their accommodations. One thing Kurt had to give the man credit for – his father definitely knew how to spend money when he had it. A Victorian style dresser and an armoire filled to the brim with clothes alongside a gilded vanity lined the wall in front of him. That along with the mirror, the bed, and the tub belonged to him, waiting for his father to find them a place and get settled.
Kurt's father was usually a thrifty man, so Kurt saw all this lavishness for what it really was – his father trying hard to make up for years of extreme poverty and the untimely death of Kurt's mother.
Not that Kurt had plans of complaining, but his father might be overdoing it a tad.
Kurt turned his face toward the balcony - the wrought iron doors parted to reveal the evening sky. Never had a sky at night looked as filled with stars as this one. As he gazed at the twinkling stars overhead, something beckoned him. He stepped out from beneath his sheets, threw on a pair of light pajama pants and a shirt, and padded across the floor. He slipped past the doors and stood shoeless on the warm wooden boards outside, staring transfixed with his eyes on the sky.
This sky…this sky definitely looked familiar.
Kurt had had so many fantasies upon arriving at the bayou. He dreamed of mysterious voices in his ears, hidden eyes watching him from across the landscape. The hotel where they stayed helped perpetuate those dreams. The owner, one of the last of America's 'royalty', had rescued the remains of an old Louisiana riverboat and transformed it into this amazing palace. They had even managed to keep all of the original wood floors. The room where Kurt slept overlooked the boat's rudder and sat over the water.
Every morning, he awoke wrapped in the splendor of fine Egyptian cotton sheets. He took all of his breakfasts on the terrace - a quaint meal of toast and honey. He read through old classics while lying out on a blanket under a canopy of trees, anticipating only magical things in the days to come.
After a time, though, he started to dismiss his fantasies.
Money didn't buy freedom. It only made his cage look prettier.
He closed his eyes to retrace the dream that had followed him to his bedroom when he left this afternoon's gathering. As he raced from the luncheon, he had glimpsed a pair of forbidden eyes staring in amusement. He recalled how they smiled, laughing at him. He found himself smiling uncontrollably along with them. His face flushed. His skin tingled. He felt intoxicated.
He pursed his lips to kiss the image.
Invisible lips kissed him back.
His eyelids flew open. He was alone. He looked around him. He peered over the edge of the balcony to the inky black water below. He heard the chirping of lonely crickets and the water lapping against the outer walls of the riverboat. He could see nothing but the brilliance of countless stars strung across the heavens. He decided finally that the air must have been playing havoc with his brain.
He looked defiantly into the face of the moon looming above.
"I know you," he said. "You have been listening to my thoughts and dreams. It won't work this time. I'm becoming far too adult and conservative for your spells anymore."
And he meant it. His father had plans to install him in the best schools, to see him distinguished.
After this summer, being a silly dreamer would have to come to an end.
Still, he had been kissed. Most definitely kissed.
That hadn't been a dream.
He was still a dreamer, if for only a little while longer.
Kurt leaned far over the edge of the railing and silently dared whatever had kissed him to emerge from its hiding place and kiss him again.
He waited, perched on his toes, leaning so far over the balcony that he feared he might fall, but he was willing to wait for his kiss.
And he got it.
It startled him. He tried to stand up straight, but lost the ground beneath him and fell backward. He scrambled quickly to get on his feet, and then clamored clumsily into his room. He stuck out a leg to kick the doors shut behind him - then he stopped. The hairs at the nape of his neck prickled in alarm and he came to the frightening realization that someone stood behind him. He felt fingers wind into his gardenia-scented hair. The stranger held him fast, their grip both delicate and firm. Kurt wanted to believe that this gentle caress meant that whoever it was had no intention of hurting him, but apparently they did not want him to escape either.
Kurt turned his head carefully in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his captor.
He had partially expected it to be one of the black suits from downstairs, with their inscrutable but leery glances.
He had not prepared himself for the celestial figure of a man standing behind him. He seemed both undeniably human and inexplicably unreal, but more than anything, he was too beautiful to be believed. He wore a finally tailored suit – a velvet jacket over a white silky shirt with a ruffled collar, and dark riding pants, very rich but also very much from another time. His coffee brown hair shone in the dim light of the room. He caressed Kurt's face and then his prone figure with the hungry gaze of his forest green eyes - eyes whose color reflected perfectly the vines and the leaves that Kurt loved. This man had sharp, intense features – a sculptured face (since not a single thing about him could be an accident of nature by any means), rosy, plush lips, and a mask of flawless, marble-like skin.
Kurt parted his lips in an attempt to talk, but his voice became a whisper, coming in tiny gasps.
"Who are you?" Kurt asked, dislodging the words from his throat.
The man responded with only a smile, and looking at it, Kurt found it hard to catch his breath. The man mouthed something and Kurt felt his body collapse, his limbs suddenly heavy as if he had just come from a long swim. He didn't understand why, but when he tried to move, he couldn't - not because he was hurt, not because he was unable, but because he had been commanded to faint, and even though his mind was appalled at the concept, his body seemed to do nothing but obey. Kurt felt his body fall against the stranger, searching for his support. The man swept Kurt up in his arms and carried him to the bed.
Kurt looked at the surreal creature staring back at him with eyes like smooth glass, but that burned in the centers with a lick of flame. But Kurt knew these eyes, he knew this face…even if he had never seen this man before in his life.
The man watched Kurt too long, pressed his control too long, and saw Kurt's brow furrow, his fight returning. He turned to Kurt's bedside, finding a tall bottle of crimson liquid and a cup beside it. He poured Kurt a glass of what he could tell by scent alone was a bottle of mulberry wine, and pressed it to Kurt's lips.
Kurt took a sip. The wine wasn't his but something he had liberated earlier from the kitchen. He had every intention of getting drunk for the first time alone in his room after another luxurious bath, but it was too late.
He felt himself getting drunk off of this man's gaze alone.
"E-excellent," Kurt said after a glass to steady him, then a few sips from another, his voice sounding alien to his own ears. He frowned when he saw the man return the glass to his table. "More?" Kurt pleaded.
"You sound as though you have had your fill already, little one," the man replied. His voice sounded exactly the way Kurt thought it would…no…the way he knew it would. It wafted through Kurt's ears like strains of music, with the sonorous quality of a bow being pulled across the strings of a fine Stradivarius cello. The comforting tone of his soothing voice hit Kurt harder and faster than the wine.
"They keep me sufficiently sedated here," Kurt returned grimly, speaking as if to an old friend.
"Not what you expected, huh?" the man asked, softening his hypnotic smile.
"No," Kurt answered, his eyelids closing, barely concerned with where his wariness had run off to. "Not much."
"So," the man said, moving closer to Kurt's side, "what do you think of our little town?"
"Oh, it's wonderful." Kurt sat up, straightening his evening shirt at the shoulders. "Our first night here, my father let me order dinner in French. The next night, my father ordered me dishes I had never even heard of before. It was fabulous. Everything was so spicy, I haven't been able to taste anything since...which is probably all the better." He let out a defeated sigh.
"Why?" The face with the burning green eyes and the seductively curling smile inched even closer, his mouth inches from Kurt's warm breath and smooth lips.
"It's been watercress soup and finger sandwiches ever since," Kurt admitted.
"Something tells me you're not talking about the food."
"You're very perceptive." Kurt smiled nervously, noticing for the first time how close the man's lips hovered to his own. Kurt diverted his eyes from the man's face, fighting not lose himself in the intensity of his gaze. "I'm having fun, but I feel like I'm being ushered around like a show pony. All the passion of this town is gone for me, and I've only been here a week."
"I guess you never imagined that would happen, did you?" He leaned forward, pulling straight a lock of Kurt's hair and wrapping it loosely around his finger. He held it beneath his nose and inhaled its scent.
"No," Kurt replied, a smile starting on his lips as he played with a ridiculous thought that became stronger in his mind the closer this man got. "Then again, I never thought I'd meet a vampire, either."
The man jerked back sharply to look down into Kurt's face, and Kurt waited for the laughter to begin. It was a ludicrous notion, Kurt knew, but sometimes unfathomable things happened; there was no denying that.
The man focused dark eyes on Kurt, a sly grin manifesting on his ivory face –a sly and almost proud grin.
"Now, what makes you say a thing like that?"
"That's what you are, right?"
The man said nothing in his defense.
"Come on," Kurt prodded. "My balcony overlooks the water and you're completely dry. The walls outside have no hand holds and unless you can jump twenty feet straight up, there is no other explanation for how you got in here."
"All right," the man teased, "you caught me."
Kurt tilted his head and looked at the man through mildly drunk eyes.
"What's your name?" Kurt asked.
The man's smile slipped.
"Don't you know?"
Kurt's eyes snapped open.
"I…I feel like I should know…" Kurt shook his head, "but I can't remember."
The man looked disappointed, but for only a second. He stood and bowed at the waist.
"Sebastian Smythe, at your service, sir. But as you must imagine, my existence is a secret, so, what do I do with you now?"
"I don't know," Kurt said wistfully. "I imagine you won't want anyone else to know about you."
"I imagine not," he said.
"Well...I guess you're just going to have to knock me unconscious…or drug me." Kurt surprised himself with his suggestion. Talk about loose lips. Where in the world did he come up with such an idea?
"Drug you?" Sebastian asked, sounding just as surprised.
"Yes," Kurt continued since he could come up with nothing else and this, at least, seemed to intrigue Sebastian. "Drug me with something powerful so I'll fall immediately asleep and forget you ever came here."
"Ah, I see," Sebastian said. "Well, you are partially correct. Drugging is part of it."
Kurt didn't anticipate that and he swallowed hard.
"Wh-what's the rest?"
"What if I don't want you to forget?" Sebastian whispered. "What if I need you to remember?"
Kurt stared at the vampire wide-eyed. Only then did Kurt realize that Sebastian no longer stood at his side but sat over him, his weight balanced skillfully on Kurt's legs so as not to crush him.
"I...I guess that poses a problem." Kurt's voice quivered, stumbling over his words.
"I guess so."
Sebastian stared deeply into Kurt's questioning eyes. 'A myriad of questions', Sebastian thought, 'with only one answer.'
"What should I do?" Kurt managed through trembling lips.
Sebastian's answer came in purpose-filled, punctuated breaths.
"Sit back...relax...and enjoy it all."
Kurt watched Sebastian, mystified by calm of Sebastian's hard-to-read eyes. Sebastian didn't look away as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a gold cigarette case.
"Do you smoke?" he asked Kurt.
"Um…I've tried it once," Kurt admitted. "I choked half to death. Almost coughed up a lung." Kurt gasped at how easily he revealed that secret. "Don't tell my father! Please? He'd skin me."
"I'm not telling your old man anything," Sebastian chuckled. "But that was a tobacco cigarette, right?"
Kurt nodded.
"Have you ever seen ones like these?"
Sebastian opened the case in front of Kurt's eyes revealing a row of what looked like ordinary hand-rolled cigarettes. Their peculiar smell was the tip-off.
Kurt looked from the cigarettes in the case back up to Sebastian's face.
"What does a vampire need with marijuana?"
"Oh, it's not for me," Sebastian said, enjoying Kurt's reaction. "It's for you."
The heat from Kurt's body, which had been building steadily with the presence of the vampire in his room, escaped him in an instant as Sebastian's words rolled through his head.
"But," he stammered, watching Sebastian pluck one cigarette from the case, close it, and return it to his pocket, pulling out a lighter in its place, "Aren't those illegal?"
"Just barely," Sebastian said with a wave of his hand, putting the cigarette to his lips and lighting the end.
"B-but, I don't do that," Kurt stuttered. "I never have."
"It's only marijuana," Sebastian laughed. "It's no more dangerous than that wine you've been drinking."
"So, why don't I drink more of that?" Kurt asked, becoming increasingly anxious. He reached for the glass at his bedside table, but Sebastian's weight immobilized him.
"It won't give me the desired effect. Besides, it's not dangerous as long as you don't make it a habit, and I doubt this much is habit forming."
Kurt raised an eyebrow as Sebastian took a drag off the cigarette, then raised his head to blow the smoke into the air above their heads. It settled over them like a hazy cloud and Kurt did his best not to breathe in.
"And what about you?"
"Me?" Sebastian stopped his work and cupped Kurt's chin in his hand. "I'm extremely dangerous and very habit forming."
He held the cigarette up to Kurt's lips, the smell stronger at this distance, invading his nose and causing him to salivate. He looked at the cigarette, even tried to approach it, but at the last second, he backed away.
"No, I can't," he said. Sebastian sighed hearing the fear in Kurt's voice.
"A vampire in your room you can handle, but marijuana is where you draw the line?" Sebastian asked. "Tell me, why can't you?"
"I just...I don't know how. I told you, I've never done this before." Kurt's heart sank as an amused smirk crossed Sebastian's lips. Wasn't this what Kurt wanted? Mystery, beauty, an epic romance, the chance to suss out the meaning behind his sympathy for this place? Here it all was, sitting before him, and like a ninny he was scared. "I don't mean to seem foolish, or adolescent, or..."
"Innocent?" Sebastian interrupted. Kurt didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Sebastian knew he'd hit upon it. "That's all a part of your charm, mon bien-aimé," Sebastian reassured him. "You act wild and tough, but deep down inside you're quite the innocent." Sebastian urged him again. "Just put it to your lips and inhale deeply. I'll take care of the rest."
With his lips pressed tightly closed, Kurt shook his head.
"I don't want to command you, little one," Sebastian said. "I don't want to force you."
Kurt had a strong resolve - Sebastian could feel it. He needed Kurt to loosen up enough to let him in, but Kurt lay stubbornly rigid, biting his lips together between his teeth. Sebastian moved the cigarette away from Kurt's mouth. Kurt watched him like a deer watching a rattlesnake retreat, with a mixture of suspicion and relief. Sebastian brought the cigarette to his own lips and sucked in deep. Kurt watched quizzically as Sebastian inhaled, his eyes closed, his face meditative and serene. Before Kurt understood Sebastian's plan, the vampire's mouth enveloped his. His tongue gently pried Kurt's lips apart and he softly exhaled into Kurt's mouth. Then the vampire bit Kurt's lip and unconsciously he inhaled. Kurt flinched as an extremely bitter fog stung his tongue and replaced the air in his lungs. He tried to back away, burying his head deeper into his pillows, but Sebastian's hand caught hold of Kurt's hair, holding him still.
Kurt's eyelids fluttered shut reluctantly as a dizzying rush overtook his body. Again, Sebastian kissed him and this time the smoke absorbed Kurt. The drug, Sebastian's kiss, a lack of oxygen all conquered his will to fight and eventually, he submit. He yielded to Sebastian, to his strength, to his power over him. Kurt's mind began to slip away, not into unconsciousness, but into darkness. Sebastian felt Kurt melt beneath him, purring like a kitten. He pressed his lips against Kurt's, but sluggishly he begged Sebastian to stop.
"What?" Sebastian whispered in mock surprise. "Do you not enjoy my kisses?"
"It's not that." Kurt muttered breathlessly. "I'm afraid...I'm afraid I'll pass out."
"Well," Sebastian said, straightening to look down at his fallen angel, proud of what he had accomplished, "we mustn't have that." He closed his fingers over the cigarette and crushed it, putting it down on Kurt's bedside table. Kurt tossed his head on his pillow, struggling to keep his eyes open, but they would not obey. With one weak hand he tried to reach up and pull Sebastian to him, but each effort fell short of its goal. Sebastian slipped his hands beneath Kurt's head, smoothing his fingers over Kurt's hair.
Sebastian turned Kurt's face toward his and bent closer, tracing the outline of Kurt's lips with his tongue. He slipped it between Kurt's teeth, stroking his tongue and touching the roof of his mouth. Then, closing his mouth around Kurt's, Sebastian kissed him.
Kurt whimpered, his mouth moving against Sebastian's, trying to form a word. When Sebastian lifted away, Kurt whispered hoarsely, "Hot…it's too…hot in here."
Sebastian lifted Kurt from his sheets and carried him to the tub where fresh water from earlier had cooled. Sebastian cradled Kurt in his arms, and with a cupped hand, poured water over his body, drenching his shirt, which clung to him, becoming translucent with every droplet of water.
"Is that better?" Sebastian asked, his mouth going dry as he watched the white cotton disappear.
"Mmm-hmm," Kurt replied, humming with every handful of water soaking his skin.
What had started as a labor of love soon proved unbearable. Kurt's tightened nipples, hiding beneath the material, became completely visible, as did the defined planes of his chest and the rippling muscles of his abs. Sebastian fought to distance his thoughts from this body that responded so readily to his attentions. He considered himself a man at heart – a heart that did not beat, hadn't for ages – but he knew that he was also an animal. He feared his barbaric nature might prove too much for him to control. But he couldn't resist. He reached out with a wet hand to caress Kurt's right breast. Kurt mewled, his body rising up to meet Sebastian's hand.
Sebastian knew that in this state Kurt could not resist him, but Sebastian didn't need to exercise absolute control. Kurt was beginning to give himself over, and it wasn't because of the drug. Kurt was realizing that they were connected, even if he didn't understand exactly how.
Sebastian knew. Sebastian kept those memories.
For too long they had been separated.
Sebastian needed his husband back.
Sebastian grabbed the collar of Kurt's shirt and tore the fabric from his skin. He left Kurt's body and stood to have an opportunity to see his prize fully. Without the vampire to support him, Kurt's legs tensed beneath his weight, his arms outstretched, hands gripping hard to the lip of the slick porcelain tub. His head rested on the water, his eyes shut. This kneeling position revealed bulging biceps as his back arched, two large muscles of Kurt's upper legs, his cock hard and pressing against the front of his pants.
Sebastian could not contain his urge to touch him. He knelt before Kurt and pulled his pants down over his hips, over his ass, all the way to his knees. He took Kurt's cock in his hand and stroked lightly. Kurt whimpered and trembled, but he didn't ask Sebastian to stop. Sebastian let his other hand trail to Kurt's back, slipping a finger between the globes of his taut ass. Kurt moaned, and to Sebastian's pleasant surprise found that Kurt's body accepted him easily.
Maybe the body remembers where the mind forgets, he thought.
He felt Kurt's cock throb in his hand and saw a small bead of moisture form at the head. Sebastian swiped his thumb over it, collecting it, and brought the thumb to his lips. He licked the pearl of pre-cum off his skin. It tasted like sea-salt, yet sweetened his tongue. It tasted like youth and home.
It tasted like memory.
Sebastian lay on the carpet with his head between Kurt's legs and pulled Kurt down to him, helping him out of his pants and then maneuvering him away from the tub with strong hands, positioning Kurt over him. He took Kurt in his mouth, sipping from his leaking cock with his lips and his tongue. His hands roamed their way up Kurt's hard, muscular torso to find his nipples and roll over them with his fingertips. He bit Kurt's foreskin gently and slipped a finger back inside his body, reveling in Kurt's choked off gasps.
Sebastian had Kurt at his mercy, of that he was sure, but then he felt Kurt's shaking fingers pull his shirt from his pants and lift it up over his stomach. With wet fingertips, Kurt traced over the hills and valleys of Sebastian's skin, across his nipples, and down his side. He unfastened the leather strap of his belt and pulled open the buttons of his pants. He moved smooth as silk despite his muscles shaking as Sebastian took him, leaning over Sebastian's body and carefully kissing his cock.
Sebastian groaned, a surge racing up his body and seizing hold of his still heart. Excited by Kurt's boldness, Sebastian quickened his pace, sucking at him gratefully in return. Kurt moaned loudly into Sebastian's skin, but responded as Sebastian had hoped, taking him fully in his mouth. Kurt stroked Sebastian deliberately with his tongue. He ran his fingernails down Sebastian's legs, over his pants, then back up his thighs.
Sebastian didn't want to cum this way. He needed to have Kurt's body on his, but Kurt lost control, his mounting passion exploding and he came in Sebastian's mouth. Sebastian groaned loudly, swallowing around him, tasting sweat and sweet and blood from a nick he had made on Kurt's inside thigh. For a second, Sebastian feared he had hurt Kurt, but the pain only served to excite him further. The excitement and exhilaration woke something inside Kurt, and a thought flashed through his head, of him and Sebastian kissing in front of a large stone fireplace beneath a sprig of mistletoe to the applause of people around him. He felt a chill pass through him, tasted peppermint on his tongue; the smell of cinnamon and vanilla replaced the scent of flowers in the air.
He popped his head up and looked around him, at his torn clothes, at the man beneath him, and he felt confused.
Kurt stood quickly, breaking free from the grasp of Sebastian's arms clutching his legs. He closed the torn remnants of his shirt as that cold continued to tug at him, tried to pull him back into remembering it.
"What just happened?" Kurt glared down at Sebastian, lying on the floor, half-naked and drenched to the skin. "Wh-what did you do to me? Was that…was that the marijuana? Is that what did it? Give me hallucinations?"
"No," Sebastian said, shaking his head. "It wasn't the drug. It was you…and me."
"What about you?" Kurt asked, taking a step back. "Who are you to me?"
"You knew me once, Kurt," Sebastian said.
You loved me once.
Kurt looked into the face of his lover, drinking in his features, looking at him as if for the first time, but he wasn't. Kurt was remembering him. Kurt saw his strong, determined brow, his eyes stony, his stare intense. He saw his steep nose, his high cheekbones, his wicked, playful grin. He stopped at his mouth, his parted lips. Long, razor-sharp fangs protruded from his mouth and over his lips. They dripped an oily red, bathed in blood – his blood. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but his voice failed him.
Sebastian looked up at Kurt with an expression full of hope and passion.
Even with fangs in full bloom and dripping wet with his own precious blood, Sebastian did not frighten him.
Those memories had frightened him.
His abandon had frightened him.
Someone could argue that the drug and the wine had influenced him, regardless of what Sebastian said about both being safe, but to Kurt that argument was not compelling enough to explain how he felt, this overwhelming connection to this deadly creature lying at his feet…and why he wanted to rush into his arms, as if he had been waiting to see him for years.
Kurt wanted him – Kurt desired him with his entire body and soul. He wanted to mount Sebastian where he lay and ride him, but Kurt found it difficult to move. A gorge lay between them that Kurt could not cross.
Sebastian moved first, tearing off the remainder of his clothes with one clawed hand, then pulled Kurt close to his body.
"I don't think I've told you that I can read your mind, did I?" he asked, his once silken voice a hoarse whisper.
"Right now?" Kurt whispered.
"Especially now." Sebastian brushed Kurt's sleeves from his shoulders and his shirt fell to the floor. "It is a power that this…dark gift has given me. But, you, my darling…you are more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Your eyes tell me the story of your life..." He kissed Kurt delicately on the forehead "…the passions in your heart…" He kissed the tip of Kurt's nose "…what you want for the future..." He kissed Kurt's lips softly, gently moving from his upper lip to his lower lip, then his chin. Kurt gave in as Sebastian held him in his arms and lay him down on the bed, the taste of his blood on Sebastian's tongue.
"And what do I want for the future?" Kurt asked.
Sebastian's mouth widened in a smile both cunning and compassionate.
"You want me," he purred. He began to suckle Kurt's right nipple. "You want me tenderly, and lovingly, and you want to surrender yourself to me."
Kurt heard an echo to those words. He'd heard them before like this, except he and Sebastian were both wearing suits, both the same age…both celebrating something dear.
A wedding?
Their own?
It was right there for him to see, but it kept blurring out of reach.
"I want you," Kurt moaned with a grin pulling at his lips, "to surrender to me!"
Kurt flipped the vampire over with a strength he seemed completely unaware he possessed…but Sebastian knew it was there. Still, he looked amused. Kurt mounted his laughing victim and slipped Sebastian's cock easily inside him. Sebastian put his hands on the gentle curve of Kurt's hips.
"Why are you laughing at me?" Kurt asked, feigning anger.
"Because you have surrendered," Sebastian said. "You're doing everything I want."
You're coming closer and closer to being mine.
Kurt rolled his eyes but Sebastian reached up a hand and grabbed Kurt's chin, pulling his gaze.
"Close your eyes and concentrate," Sebastian said. "I want you to get lost in the feeling of my body entering yours and focus on what you see."
He moved Kurt's hips up and down above him. With eyes closed, Kurt dropped his head back, his wet hair dripping over his shoulders and down his back, the droplets collecting on Sebastian's thighs. Sebastian felt Kurt up with trembling hands, starting with his fingers between Kurt's legs, over his cock, up to the hard muscles of his belly till his palms came to rest over the peaks of his nipples.
Kurt's body slid quickly and smoothly over him, like he'd done this with him dozens of times. Kurt moaned softly, biting his lower lip, while behind his eyes he caught images that didn't seem to be his, but there they were nonetheless: Kurt and Sebastian dancing on a pier overlooking the river, Kurt and Sebastian lying in the grass under the shade of an overhanging willow, Kurt and Sebastian sipping soup while the rain fell outside and the wind beat against the frame of their window, Kurt and Sebastian making love on a huge four-poster bed just like Kurt's, but in a different room, with different furnishings, and a radio in the background playing a different song.
Sebastian watched Kurt intently, knowing what he saw. He followed the way Kurt rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, feeling the ghost of Sebastian kiss his neck, back during a time when his teeth weren't fangs and his bite wasn't deadly – when he didn't live for the night, when he didn't crave blood. He watched Kurt lick his lips, his chest heaving as he breathed, his cock bobbing when he moved. Kurt's fingertips massaged Sebastian's skin – curiously searching paths they had known once before.
"Sebastian," Kurt whispered. Sebastian held his hips, his nails digging into Kurt's skin, repeatedly pushing himself inside Kurt's tight body.
With a series of loud moans, Kurt came undone, giving himself over to the pleasure he found in Sebastian's body. As Kurt came across Sebastian's chest, Sebastian took a moment longer to satisfy himself in Kurt's body. When he relinquished his grip of Kurt's hips, red with marks from his nails, Kurt opened his eyes to find Sebastian, and the illusion broke. He was back in his room and the specters of the past were gone. Embarrassed of his behavior, he rolled off Sebastian's body and tried to grab for something to cover himself with, but Sebastian caught Kurt by the wrists. Kurt knew Sebastian wouldn't be persuaded to let go, so he allowed the vampire to engulf him in his embrace, but Kurt would not look at him.
"Did I upset you, Kurt?" Sebastian asked. Kurt shook his head against him. "Did I hurt you?" Again, Kurt shook his head. "Are you ashamed of what you just did?" Sebastian asked in that low, sultry voice that washed over Kurt's skin like satin. It was meant to calm him, but Kurt did not answer. He lay still. Sebastian leaned forward and kissed the nape of his neck. "Look at me," Sebastian whispered. Kurt did not move. Sebastian reached over Kurt's body to turn him. His hand brushed Kurt's nipple, sore and swollen from his sucking and his bites. Kurt shrank a bit from his touch, all too aware that he lay there before Sebastian completely naked, scars of their lovemaking fresh on his skin.
He wrapped the sheet Kurt lay on around his body and cradled him against his chest. Kurt grew heavy in his arms, his dismay weighing on his shoulders.
"Look into my eyes," Sebastian implored him. Kurt raised his eyes slowly. "What do you have to feel ashamed of?"
"That wasn't me," Kurt said, feeling the last remnants of the presence, the spirit, the…whatever had taken him over, fading away.
"Oh, that was very much you," Sebastian assured him with another kiss on the forehead, giddy at having had this glimpse of his husband, who he'd waited for so long.
"I don't, you know, do that," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I never had…with anyone."
In the hollow of his chest, Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well," Sebastian said, swallowing hard, "there's a first time for everything." He laughed dryly, trying to ignore the dull pain in his chest.
"Why do you keep making fun of me?" Kurt asked.
"I'm not, little one," Sebastian said, running his fingers through Kurt's damp hair. "Honestly."
"You keep laughing." Kurt said.
"I laugh because I think you're cute, my darling."
Kurt cast his eyes down.
"But," he continued, "I also think you're handsome, and sexy, and full of fire. I've felt it. It's brought the color back to my life, mon amour."
Kurt's cheeks, already red, radiated a color and heat Sebastian had not known possible. Kurt buried his head into Sebastian's chest.
"This is all so difficult for you to hear, isn't it?" Sebastian asked. He didn't need an answer. To Sebastian's eyes, Kurt was an open-book.
"I…I don't know anything about you," Kurt said. "You say I do…and I could swear I saw…but, I don't know."
"What does your heart tell you?" Sebastian asked.
Kurt sighed against Sebastian's skin.
"It says that what you tell me is the truth," Kurt responded. "It says that I am who you say I am, and that vision I had…it happened once upon a time."
So much lingered on Sebastian's tongue, left unsaid, but it was too much. Kurt had already glimpsed into Sebastian's mind, seen his memories of their life together. If he revealed too much too quickly, Kurt may never accept him.
"You don't need to know any more about me then I'm here with you now," he offered instead.
Kurt turned from Sebastian's gaze and looked out the open balcony doors.
"But, you'll be gone in the morning," he said softly.
"Don't worry about that," Sebastian said, the same sorrow in Kurt's heart taking hold of Sebastian's. "Just go to sleep."
"But…"
Sebastian waved his hand before Kurt's eyes and his eyelids fell shut. He began to sleep soundly, breathing evenly.
"A myriad of questions, little one," Sebastian whispered as he looked at his lover's face, "and only one answer. For now…I can't give that to you."
Sebastian tucked Kurt into his bed, bringing the blanket up to his chin and kissing him delicately on the lips.
If he could move time and space and stay the night, Sebastian would.
If he could find a way to take Kurt with him, he would.
If he could cry, if he could let the world know his misery, he would.
But all he could do was leave.
Kurt woke the next morning, alone as he had feared, and everything around him seemed drab and grey. The music coming from the radio sounded tinny, the scent of flowers in the air disgustingly sweet. Outside his window, birds sang, and Kurt wanted to silence every one.
Sebastian said that Kurt had brought the color back to his life.
Sebastian took all the color out of Kurt's when he left him.
Kurt flopped down on the bed, his body aching sublimely from all that he'd done with Sebastian, all he'd experience, and he prayed that it wouldn't dissolve into a dull, simmering burn by the afternoon. He wanted it to last…until tonight.
But what assurance did he really have that Sebastian had any intention of returning?
He felt something fall against his arm and looked at the space beside him – a space his lover should occupy.
On the pillow lay two roses – one white, and one red – with a small note underneath.
Kurt pulled the crinkled parchment carefully, not disturbing the two sleeping flowers. He turned toward the light and read the elegant handwriting:
White for purity.
Red for love.
You will always be full of both.
You mean the world to me.
I will see you again.