Kurt froze, his back to Mr. Not-Quite-So-Dreamy-Anymore. His face flushed hot but icy cold spiked his belly. His hands began to tremble with equal parts anxiety and anger. And despite all of this there was still a corner of his brain that had the space to wonder and despair at the fact that one casual taunt could still reduce him to a terrified high school sophomore.

It was because of the place; that had to be it. He just didn't expect that kind of homophobic attitude in a scene bar. It caught him by surprise.

While he tried to choose between flight and fight, the bartender drifted into his line of sight holding a glass and a questioning expression. Like this was just another patron buying a drink for someone situation. Like there was nothing to object to. Infuriating, but the lack of aggression in his stance gave Kurt the space he needed to remember who he was.

Kurt fucking Hummel, that's who.

"This is so exciting!" he faked enthusiasm as he spun around to face the man who suddenly looked much more weasel-y than handsome. "I've never met anyone who was raised by wild dogs before!"

Weasel-face managed to look confused without losing his smirk.

Kurt dropped his act. "Well it's the only reason I can think of that you'd think a comment like that is remotely acceptable."

Understanding dawned on the not-at-all handsome features. "Oh, come on. Tell me it's not a stereotypically fruity drink and I'll take it back."

"That's not the –"

"I'd guess appletini."

"Well you'd be wrong. Not that that matters," Kurt sputtered.

The guy just raised an eyebrow and waited.

Turn around, Kurt told himself. Leave. But his feet didn't want to obey him. Neither, apparently, did his mouth. "It's a cosmo," he said. He still had enough control over his mouth to mutter it aggressively, at least. Small consolation.

Especially when the man laughed out loud. "Like that's any less gay," he said loud enough for everyone at the bar to hear.

Kurt's hand slapped hard on the polished wood. "No, what's gay, in case it escaped your virtuoso powers of observation, is you offering to buy me a drink!"

He didn't recoil like Kurt had hoped he would. He didn't react at all. He just kept laughing, this time turning to the bartender who was still hovering near them. "Well he's got me there, Phil."

The bartender – Phil – nodded. "That is pretty gay, dude."

Pointy-nose turned back to Kurt. "In fact," he said, still speaking loudly enough to be heard by everyone, "on the list of things that are gay that I have done, I'd say me buying you a drink falls somewhere above checking out another guy's ass, but definitely well below actually fucking men."

Kurt had always thought the idea of a jaw dropping was pure hyperbole. He was wrong.

Somewhere someone laughed out loud, but he was too busy staring at weasel-face, no wait, gay weasel-face, to see who it was.

The smirk widened and flashed back at the bartender. "And now he understands."

Phil nodded.

"You're gay?" Kurt asked, stupidly.

"What was that about virtuoso powers of observation?"

"But you're . . . here." Kurt managed to move an arm to indicate the club.

"You're here," Possibly-Dreamy-Again-But-The-Jury-Was-Still-Out pointed out.

"I made a . . ." Kurt clamped his mouth closed. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was admit to another fault in his powers of observation.

Too late. Marginally-Dreamy nodded sympathetically. "It was the name wasn't it? It's always the name."

Kurt needed to sit. Luckily there was a barstool right there. And when he climbed onto it there was also a pale pink cocktail sitting on the bar in front of him. He didn't remember agreeing to the drink. He made his own questioning eyebrows at Phil, who only shrugged and tossed his head in Dreamy's direction.

Dreamy was still talking. "At least a couple of times a week some poor confused twink wanders in here looking for the rumps."

"Hey!" Kurt bristled.

"Oh calm down, Princess. I'm merely stating a fact. I was in no way implying that you yourself are a twink."

He sounded suspiciously patronizing. But it was starting to sink into Kurt's tossed and tumbled brain that the hot straight dominant whose every move had made him salivate with desire was actually the hot gay dominant who wanted to buy him a drink. Well, nothing ventured, nothing spanked. He picked up the cocktail glass and took a swig.

Dreamy Gay grinned like he'd won. Kurt had to admit he probably had.

"I'm Sebastian," he said, holding out a hand.

Of course he was Sebastian. He could only be Sebastian. The perfect Victorian-erotica-turned-prep-school-valedictorian name. "Kurt," Kurt said.

They shook. Sebastian's hand was warm and soft and just the right size and his fingers curled around Kurt's palm like a cage, capturing it, and Jesus how strong was that cosmo, anyhow? Kurt pulled back too fast, like he'd been shocked.

"So do you buy a drink for every poor confused homosexual who ends up here?" he asked, trying to be casual.

Sebastian shook his head. "No." He raised his scotch to his lips and his eyes twinkled at Kurt over the rim of the glass.

Kurt abandoned subtlety. He was still too addled to play coy. "Why me then?"

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I guess I got tired of waiting for you to stop staring at me and come introduce yourself."

Fuck. He'd noticed. Kurt felt himself flush again. "Excuse me!" Indignation was always a good offense. "It's not a gay club. Maybe you grew up in gay Narnia or something but where I come from, coming on to a straight guy is a very, very bad idea."

For the first time, Sebastian's smile looked a tiny, tiny bit abashed. "I did figure that out eventually. Hence the drink."

Kurt had been all prepared for another attack. Sebastian's admission left him with nothing to say. He sipped at his drink and tried not to squirm under the dominant's dark-eyed scrutiny. "So why do you come here then?" he asked, trying to throw the ball back into Sebastian's field, or whatever it was the Finn always used to say. "You're obviously a regular."

"You notice that, huh?"

"Virtuoso powers of observation."

Sebastian acknowledged that with another sly smile. "Well, for a guy like me, this place is heaven."

"What?" Kurt had to stop his jaw from dropping again.

"You may not be aware of this, but it's a foundational fantasy of most straight male submissives to be forced to service another man."

"Really?" Kurt was skeptical. That sounded much too much like porn to be true.

"Mmm-hmmm," Sebastian nodded wisely. "For a dominant like me, a dominant who likes getting his dick sucked by another guy I mean . . . well, it's practically a cottage industry."

Kurt gave up and let his jaw go. "So you come here and just let a bunch of submissives . . ." he couldn't quite finish the thought. Mostly because, eww. At least that's what he told himself. It had nothing to do with hating the very idea of a bunch of straight subs getting to kneel at this particular dominant's feet and worship his cock.

"I'm performing a service to the community. Although I will admit a back-room blow job with no strings attached is nothing to sneeze at."

"So that's what you're looking for? No strings?" It was out before Kurt could stop it. But maybe just as well. He wanted strings. All the strings. If Sebastian didn't then maybe he needed to finish his drink and move on.

Sebastian evaluated Kurt like he was trying to figure out what the right next move might be. "I didn't say that. I just said I could enjoy the lack of them."

"Well I'm surprised I was interesting enough to drag you away from your smorgasbord of orgasmic possibilities," Kurt said. He hoped he didn't sound envious, but he was pretty sure he did.

"It does seem unlikely, on the surface, doesn't it?" Sebastian teased. But before Kurt could bristle he went on, "But it turns out you're extremely interesting."

"I am?" Okay, not the smoothest thing Kurt had ever said.

"Mmmm," Sebastian hummed again, and paused dramatically to sweep his eyes up and down Kurt's form. "You're obviously submissive, but you've got a mouth on you like no sub I've ever met. I can tell you want me, but you're not even trying to impress me. And then there's the fact that you bit my head off for implying you were a twink, but had absolutely no reaction at all to me calling you Princess."

Kurt didn't even know where to start to respond to any of that. His heart was beating too fast and his brain was stuck on I know you want me. It was his ball now, he knew, or his field, whatever they said, and he had no idea what to do with it. It certainly sounded like he was being offered the opportunity to explore . . . things . . . with strings . . . with the dreamiest dom he'd come across in a long time. But that couldn't be right, could it?

Sebastian mistook his silence. "You should check out Rank and File," he finally said, too casually. "That place is as gay as they come."

"I went there once," Kurt admitted.

"And?"

"And I felt like Bugs Bunny at an Elmer Fudd convention."

Sebastian laughed loud again. Kurt found that he liked Sebastian's laugh, when it wasn't directed at him.

"I can't decide which of those comparisons is more apropos," Sebastian said.

"You'll have to wait till you know me better to decide that," Kurt returned. Then he blushed again when he realized what he'd just said. He dipped his head to hide in his drink. And maybe to look just the teeniest, tiniest bit submissive.

"Well you should take it as a compliment," Sebastian said. "After all, submissives are a dime a dozen. If that many doms were pointing their . . . guns . . . in your direction," he grinned at his joke, "then you must be something special."

Heat rose in Kurt's face again. How did Sebastian keep doing that? He tried to cover it by ignoring the compliment. "A dime a dozen?" he said, severely as he could. But his breathy tone surely gave him away.

"Oh come on. You and I both know there are at least twenty submissives out there for every dominant. And it's probably worse if you're gay."

"I don't care how many there are. I'm . . ." Kurt stopped himself before he could blurt out something very not submissive, especially after what Sebastian had said about his mouth.

But Sebastian grinned at him. "Go ahead. Say it."

Kurt tossed his head. "I'm one of kind," he said defiantly.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. He stared at Kurt for a long moment, then slipped off his stool. But before Kurt had time to fear he'd scared him off, he tossed off a smile that was as challenging as Kurt had been confrontational.

"Well in that case, I think we'd better find someplace more private to talk, don't you?"