A/N: Dedicated to my husband…he knows why ;)
Warning for an attempt at car sex, unintentional exhibitionism, voyeurism, and angst.
"Is it creepy that we're doing this in the parking lot of Knott's Berry Farm?" Kurt asks as his boyfriend launches a full scale assault on his neck, tugging roughly at the collar of his shirt until the stitching in the seam pops. Kurt whimpers at the destruction of his vintage tee, but then moans when Sebastian latches on and starts to suck.
"Nah," Sebastian mumbles, juggling obscene slurping noises with actual words as he kisses Kurt and talks at pretty much the same time. "I mean, all the kids are inside, there's no one out here. It's not like we're going to damage anyone for life."
"Nope. Just my $89 retro t-shirt," Kurt mutters, the final two words dying when Sebastian's teeth graze the top of his shoulder and sink in.
"You know, you can always take it off," Sebastian suggests, hands creeping from Kurt's thighs to the hem, grabbing hold and pulling up.
"Nu-uh." Kurt grabs Sebastian's wrists and stops him, redirecting his touch underneath the shirt. "I think we should stay as clothed as possible, seeing as we're doing this at 1:15 in the afternoon." He shifts his head to the right so Sebastian can give the left side of his neck equal attention. "Besides, these windows are like a magnifying glass. I don't have a high enough SPF to combat against concentrated sunlight."
"Oh, live a little, Hummel," Sebastian says, trying to tempt Kurt out of his shirt by blowing a stream of cool air around his collarbone.
"I am living," Kurt answers with a shudder, wishing they were in bed so he could be naked against Sebastian's gorgeous body. Then his boyfriend could blow on him all he wanted. "I'm going to be riding you in the cramped back seat of your Mustang instead of in our comfortable, air-conditioned hotel room. Let's not add skirting skin cancer to the list."
Sebastian reaches between Kurt's legs to rub his cock, and Kurt spreads his legs wider to let him, his knees sliding in opposite directions on the leather seats. He almost reaches full side split status when Sebastian moans, "Thank fucking God I'm dating a cheerleader."
Kurt giggles, but stops when he hears a gasp that belongs neither to himself nor his boyfriend. He tilts his head to the side while Sebastian occupies himself with the buttons to Kurt's 501s and sees an older woman, probably in her sixties, standing beside a teal Ford Taurus parked at a diagonal across the way. She's frozen in the process of pulling her keys out of a tacky patchwork handbag, which might have been cute if any of the colors matched.
The woman's eyes meet Kurt's, and his cheeks start to flare. Even from a distance, it's fairly obvious what Kurt and Sebastian are doing. The moaning through the cracked-open windows more than likely cinches it for anyone still on the fence. But there's nothing he can do. He can't say, "Pardon us", and he can't just nod and smile her away.
Kurt knows that Sebastian won't stop for the sake of modesty. He said so himself. Not unless the car lights on fire were his exact words, and even then, he added, I'm certain we can get a few minutes of nookie in before the flames hit anything explosive.
Kurt begged to differ – both to Sebastian's assessment of their ability to screw inside a burning vehicle as well as his calling sex nookie, but Sebastian silenced him with his tongue.
"Kurt," Sebastian whines once he realizes that his boyfriend has gone rigid. "Why aren't you more into this? You were down before."
"That's before we were being watched," Kurt mutters, getting the words out without moving his lips.
"We are?" Sebastian asks, peeking up from Kurt's chest, sounding mildly excited.
"There's an old lady outside getting in to her car…and she's staring at us."
"Oh," Sebastian laughs, returning to what he was doing. "Is that all?"
"Sebastian!"
"So she's looking at us. So what?" Sebastian struggles to get his hand inside the confines of Kurt's tight jeans. "She's either getting something or she's leaving. Either way, she'll be gone in a second. Don't sweat it, babe."
Kurt rolls his eyes. He doesn't need to sweat it. The inside of Sebastian's cherry red Mustang is so frickin' hot that Kurt is already sweating everything else. But he decides that Sebastian is right (for once). That poor, old woman is stuck staring from the shock of seeing them going at it, but she'll get in her car and drive away when that wears off. Whether or not she tells security at the gate when she leaves remains to be seen.
With her still staring, narrow lidded, through the window of the Mustang, Kurt closes his eyes in an attempt to forget that she's there. He arches his back as Sebastian succeeds in conniving Kurt into letting him lift his shirt and kiss down his chest. Shortly after, Kurt hears the woman open her car door. Then he hears her shut her car door. What he doesn't hear is the engine turn over, or the car pulling out of its parking spot.
No, Kurt thinks as his boyfriend's fingers finally make their way around Kurt's shaft and stroke. She can't be watching. She's looking through her bag or adjusting her mirrors. There's no reason on Earth why she would be sitting in the driver's seat of her car on a bright and sunny Southern California day without starting it.
But he can physically feel her eyes on them, and until he knows for sure, he won't be able to relax.
Kurt opens his eyes a slit. His gaze drifts outside, and that's when he sees her, sitting in her car, hands choking her steering wheel, positively seething.
"Stop, stop, stop, stop," Kurt says, quickly cuddling close to Sebastian's chest.
"What now?" Sebastian groans, slamming a fist on the car seat.
"She's glaring at us," Kurt whispers, huddled against Sebastian's shoulder, peering sideways into the next car, "and she looks furious. Why is she doing that? Why isn't she leaving?"
Sebastian grumbles, but turns his head to check, raising an eyebrow when he finally sees what Kurt sees. "You're right. She's just…watching us," he says with the start of a smirk forming on his lips. "She's a no-good, dirty, Peeping Tom…asina. Disgusting old broad."
"Sebastian!" Kurt hisses. "That's not nice."
"I'm not nice?" Sebastian huffs. "I'm trying to make time with my sexy boyfriend, and Bea Arthur over there is putting a damper on the whole thing with her peeping." Sebastian looks out the window and mouths, "Sicko."
"Well, I can't do this with her watching." Kurt sits up an inch to pull down his crumpled shirt.
"But…but, Kurt," Sebastian complains, looking pitifully at him.
"I'm sorry," Kurt says, crossing his arms protectively over his chest, "but I really don't want someone's grandma to see my 'o' face."
Sebastian drops his head hard on the seat back with an unattractive wail of disgust, but he doesn't guilt Kurt into giving it another go. He understands. That white-haired, sour faced biddy, staking them out in her faded Ford, is kind of making Sebastian self-conscious, too. Not because of the peeping, per se, but because of the look in her eye, as if he and Kurt are the lowliest, filthiest pond scum that ever existed on the planet.
"You wanna call it quits?" he asks, staring up at the ceiling.
Kurt sighs – in relief, and in frustration. "Just for now."
"Did you want to go back in the park and ride some roller coasters?" Sebastian's voice is somber, monotone, as if going on thrill rides in a theme park was akin to spending the next three hours eating glass.
"Nope. We've got all of today and tomorrow for that. Come on, big fella." Kurt does up the buttons of his jeans with a whimper of defeat. "Let's go back to the hotel and have sex in a bed like vanilla people."
"Sweetheart" – Sebastian grabs Kurt's hips, threading his fingers into his belt loops before Kurt has the chance to sulk away – "nothing about us is vanilla. If anything, I'm definitely Chunky Monkey."
Kurt grins at the notion of Sebastian seeing himself represented by a banana flavored ice-cream filled with nuts, but it sort of suits him. "And what am I?"
"I've always seen you as a smooth, rich gelato."
Kurt hums in approval, forgetting, for the moment, the elderly cock-blocker with the disastrous taste in handbags. "What flavor?"
"Raspberry cheesecake" – Sebastian pulls Kurt down into his lap, where his hardening erection is waiting for him – "or triple chocolate truffle. Something decadent…" He looks at Kurt's lips and licks his own. "And sinfully delicious."
"I think that's possibly the sweetest thing you've ever said to me…no pun intended." Kurt leans forward, ready to start over with Sebastian's lips, kissed swollen, and only half-an-inch away. Kurt's lips barely slide across Sebastian's when the lady leans on her horn, stopping their kiss before it starts. Sebastian curls his hands into fists, nearly tearing the belt loops off Kurt's jeans.
"Let's get out of here," Kurt says, so close to Sebastian's mouth that Sebastian can feel the words flutter across his tongue, "and you can tell me more about how delicious I am."
"Grrr, okay," Sebastian agrees, slapping Kurt's ass as he climbs into the front passenger seat. Sebastian follows, adjusting his cock twice to ensure he makes it past the gear shift. "Do you know how much I hate driving with a hard on?"
"I know you do." Kurt bites his lower lip. "Maybe I can help you with that." He reaches past the center console and pulls open the front flaps to Sebastian's jeans.
"There you go, Hummel," Sebastian says, growling with the roar of the engine when Kurt wraps slender fingers around his cock and starts to stroke. "Yeah" – He relaxes into the driver's seat, sliding down about a foot, and pulls out of the parking spot - "just like that…"
Kurt does his best not to pay attention to bitter peeping hag as they turn in front of her car, but she starts her car also, feverishly rolling down the window.
"Perverts!" the lady sneers loudly as they drive by.
"Us? Ha! You're the pervert, lady!" Sebastian yells in retaliation, with Kurt's hand speeding up and down his cock. "We were just trying to fuck! You were the one watching!"