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SAY, CAN I TEMPT YOU?
chapter seven
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24
INT. SCHUESTER ESTATE – LIVING ROOM – day
He's been searching the entire house for Sebastian for a good twenty minutes. Granted, it's a huge mansion and Sebastian's more familiar with it than him, but impatience crawls underneath his skin. It's only been a week since he decided to use Rachel for his own gain, but his victory's creeping closer, it's making his blood run hotter, the thought that very soon Brody Weston could find out what his princess had been up to; he'd mope and whine and sulk, like that time when Carmen chose him over Brody for the Winter showcase.
If there's one thing Cassandra July hates more than young ingénue wannabes, it's whiners. It might be a small or even petty victory, Cassandra deserves much worse than having her toys taken from her, but he likes it when things go his way. He hasn't felt this accomplished in a very long time.
He finds Sebastian in the south lounge, standing in front of the window, a pair of binoculars raised to his eyes.
"Who are we spying on?"
He snatches the binoculars from Sebastian's hands and brings them to his eyes, searching the grounds for something of interest. His eyes quickly fall to a boy sitting underneath an oak tree, picnic blanket spread underneath him, a book in his lap.
This must be the infamous Blaine Anderson.
"That him?" he still asks, pretending he's interested. He has little care for the senator's son beyond the bet he made with Sebastian; he thinks it can still go either way, but whether Sebastian succeeds in plucking Blaine's cherry or not, at least he'll get something out of it.
Blaine Anderson's photo spread in QR Magazine had not done him justice. The pictures made him look fine, but this boy could easily be mistaken for a Disney prince; the black hair curling at his forehead, hazel eyes that he can't make out right now but the pictures had shown clearly, and a physique many guys would be envious of.
"I can see why you want to fuck him," he notes, a casual observation as much as a challenge; Sebastian doesn't like it when he sets his sights on something he likes. But when Sebastian harshly reclaims the binoculars from his hands he's pretty sure his comment hadn't even brushed the surface of what he could have said.
He turns, his eyes following Sebastian across the room. There's something different about his brother, he seems distracted almost, his mind elsewhere.
"What's up your ass?"
"Nothing," Sebastian says, but doesn't meet his eye.
Hunter smirks. "Don't tell me he's getting to you."
Sebastian looks up at him slowly, takes a moment to consider his question, hands in his pockets. "But he is," Sebastian answers, his voice laced with a calm he's never credited his brother with before. "He made me laugh."
Was he dreaming? Who is this boy standing in front of him and where has Sebastian gone? Since when does he let boys like Blaine Anderson get to him? Sebastian Smythe doesn't do feelings, and neither does he, but whereas he'd fallen in love long ago only to be left heartbroken, Sebastian's never shown any sort of sentiment.
Then again, Sebastian tended to seize the moment, go where the current took him; maybe he's letting Blaine get to him. He wonders how far that stretches, how far Sebastian will allow himself to go before he realizes he's in too deep. Sebastian might be good at faking them, but it's a whole different thing to experience these kinds of emotions.
"I can't stand this whole 'I want to wait' bullshit," Sebastian says. "But it's real for him."
He saunters a few steps closer. "Is that why you're losing our bet?"
Sebastian's eyes darken. "I'm not losing our bet. It's just taking me a little longer than I expected."
Hunter closes the distance between them, reaching for one of Sebastian's belt loops, and pulls him closer. Sebastian sighs, but comes to him willingly. Sometimes Sebastian can act like such a child. Where would Sebastian be if it weren't for him?
He goes for Sebastian's front pocket, digs his fingers in, making sure to add a little more pressure than is warranted. He massages at Sebastian's groin, right above his cock. Sebastian breathes in sharp and deep, letting the touch overtake him, but he doesn't move. He hates how he has to look up, even if it's to account for a mere two inches, but he feels as if it gives Sebastian a power he wouldn't grant anyone.
His eyes linger on Sebastian's lips.
It's a strange sensation to want it all; there's just as big a part of him that wants Sebastian to win this bet than there is a part of him that hopes he'll lose. He wants to know what it's like to have Sebastian, to fuck him or be fucked all the same, to go beyond the kissing and the groping and using sex as an incentive to get him to do something for him. But he's well aware that if Sebastian wins he'd be giving up a control he wants a lot more than sex.
His fingers hook in the ring holding together Sebastian's car keys, and he pulls them out. He dangles them in Sebastian's face. "Do you mind if I take my new car for a ride?"
Sebastian grabs him by the wrist. "Brother, the only thing you'll be riding is me," he says, so sure of himself it makes something in Hunter's chest twitch. He can't tell what Sebastian's thinking anymore, whether he's still determined to win this bet or if Blaine's getting to his sweet spot. Maybe it's both.
And he doesn't like it one bit.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Sebastian adds. "I have some work to do."
Sebastian grabs his keys, puts them back in his pocket, and makes his way out of the room.
He swallows hard, his mood taking a turn for the worse. There was a time not too long ago where this was fun, where it was only ever about challenging each other and other people were toys for them to toss around. But somewhere in the past week Blaine stopped being a toy to Sebastian, he started becoming a real person with opinions and feelings and the thought of that makes his stomach turn. Why is Blaine different? What had Blaine done to his brother?
There's an eerie feeling that sinks into his skin right alongside his pride and impatience, something he's all too familiar with but has never felt in relation to Sebastian.
He's jealous.
And for the first time in over a week he thinks it was a really bad idea.
He shouldn't have made this bet.
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25
EXT. SCHUESTER ESTATE – SOUTH GARDEN – day
What is Hunter's problem?
They never set a time limit to this bet and as far as he's concerned he has the entire summer to get into Blaine's pants. He's played the long game before, managed some semblance of control and patience because he had a clear goal in mind. In the case of Marley Rose it was to take Terri down a notch, but this dance with Blaine seems starkly different; he doesn't want to play the long game, he doesn't want to wait, there's a huge chunk of him that wants Blaine right here and now and that's the problem. Getting into Blaine's pants was the goal, a desire, not a roundabout way to get something else.
Maybe this challenge he'd set himself was too direct.
Blaine's still engrossed in his book when he joins him outside. He hasn't placed it yet, the handholding, he doesn't know where they are or what it meant. Despite being able to read Blaine well, there's no sense to anything they've been through this past week, the let's be friends but the blatant flirting. Blaine must have realized by now that they're something more.
He goes to his knees in front of Blaine. "Bonjour Monsieur."
Blaine pulls his book from his lap, reeling at the sudden proximity for a moment or two, but his reply comes fast. "Bonjour Monsieur Smythe."
He smiles and leans in, pressing one kiss to Blaine's left cheek, another kiss to the right one –as is French tradition– and then he pulls back far enough to bring Blaine's face into focus. He doesn't know what pushes him to do it, why he's suddenly craving it more than anything else, but there's something telling him to surrender, to take a chance, to stop taking everything so serious for a change.
It's true what he told Hunter, Blaine's getting to him, and he's not sure he's ever felt like this about anyone. Is this what being in love feels like, this need to be around someone, to hear their voice or see that smile without immediately wanting something physical?
But then his eyes catch on Blaine's lips and before he can second-guess himself he's leaning in again, and his lips brush Blaine's and he would've stopped, he really would have, if it weren't for Blaine breathing in deeply and parting his lips for him, silently giving him permission. It's Blaine who goes in for more, whose tongue darts out first and licks into his mouth, sucking at his lips, and it feels amazing.
He's kissed so many people, touched so many lips, but none like Blaine's, never like this.
He doesn't touch Blaine, no more than he already is, he only moves his lips against Blaine's, no rush or urgency, let's Blaine dictate the push and pull of the kiss. There's a heat that spreads through him, a want for something more, something deeper, something closer, something he's not sure he's felt before. He thought he knew this, figured out all the ways to kiss someone long ago, but this is different. Somehow this feels more personal, the drag of Blaine's lips against his, tongue and mouth and shallow breathing.
He gets lost in it; he wants to get lost in it, to kiss Blaine for a while without adding anything else.
But a hand on his chest pushes him back.
He releases Blaine's lips and pulls back, gauging Blaine's reaction.
Blaine casts down his eyes.
He sits back on his heels. "I'm sorry," he says, dazed, heart racing a million miles an hour, a pull in his chest urging him closer again, but a voice inside sounds stronger. No means no, and Blaine had pushed him back.
"I'm sorry too."
But Blaine's no sooner spoken the words when something in him revolts; Blaine's not looking at him as if he's ashamed, as if he hadn't wanted it as much as he did, as if he hadn't kissed him back.
He doesn't understand this.
"Actually, I'm not sorry." He jumps to his feet, staggers a few steps back. "I don't take it back."
Blaine blinks up at him, his eyes big and pleading. "I thought we were going to be friends," he says, and Sebastian knows he apologizes for more than the kiss. He apologizes for flirting but mostly for letting him, for the smiles and the hand-holding and letting his guard down.
He apologizes for giving him permission.
"I can't do that." He shakes his head. "I'm not like you, I can't bottle up my feelings."
He's not sure if he's telling the truth or spewing something he thinks he should say. How does anyone do this? How does anyone make sense of this?
"Can you honestly tell me you feel nothing for me?"
Blaine doesn't release his eyes. "I do—have feelings for you," he confesses, however hesitantly but it's there, it's out there unlike his reluctance to talk about the attraction between them.
Why is it so important for him to hear it all of a sudden?
"Then what's wrong? Why wouldn't I get to kiss you?" he asks, unversed in the dynamics of this—he doesn't know how to do this, how to tell someone that he likes spending time with them without ulterior motives. He wants Blaine, dear God does he want Blaine, but he'll never force him. "It's not like you're in the closet."
Blaine's face falls. "That's not fair."
"Why can't we be together?" he asks, but he doesn't know what he means by 'together' anymore. Is he asking for a boyfriend? A lover? A quick fuck?
Blaine scrambles up from the ground, reconquering ground he hasn't allowed Blaine up until now. "You really want to know?"
"Yes!" he exclaims, because it makes sense, doesn't it? Blaine kissed him back, admitted to having feelings for him, why wouldn't it make sense for them to be together? What could be wrong with taking a chance on each other?
"Because I don't trust myself with you."
Blaine's words are like a slap across the face, leaving a burning sting behind that lingers for hours upon hours and days upon days; Blaine pokes at the one thing he'd been hoping for, that Blaine would surrender to him without thinking, without considering what he'd be giving up—Blaine had him sussed out long ago. With or without Shelby whispering in his ear Blaine read him like few others.
"I just broke up with Kurt because it wasn't fair to string him along," Blaine rants, eyes filling with tears, but he suspects it has more to do with what he did than breaking up with Kurt.
"But I took a vow, Sebastian."
Right, Sebastian thinks, his precious vow, to wait for love. His mother's vow.
"And every moment I'm with you I'm tempted to break it."
He can't look away, his eyes glued to Blaine's face, his hazel eyes ablaze, every word an accusation, a painful punch to the gut and for a split second Blaine becomes everyone who's ever told him to get his act together. But Blaine takes the blame himself rather than accuse him of forcing feelings on him, becomes someone else so the blame doesn't just rest on his shoulders. He thinks Blaine has been doing that for far too long.
Because when do Blaine's desires come into play?
But he doesn't say it, he can't say it, Blaine admits to everything he'd been hoping for but it only makes him feel lousy. He forced himself into Blaine's life, flirted and teased and opened Blaine up to this guilt.
"Don't destroy that for me," Blaine says softly, voice thick with sorrow. "Please."
Blaine's eyes shine with tears and any sort of answer doesn't make it past his lips, he can't stand the thought of making Blaine cry, but he doesn't know how to make it right without reaching out to him.
He wants things from Blaine that he refuses to give him.
Blaine needs things from him he hasn't experienced before.
So what can he possibly say?
Blaine turns around and rushes off, and he's left feeling less than the man that he is when Blaine's around. He's never questioned himself like this before, his motives, his actions, because he knew taking a step back would make him realize only one thing: he needs to get his act together.
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26
INT. SCHUESTER ESTATE – SEBASTIAN'S BEDROOM – day
She's not entirely sure what she's doing. Her conversation with Hunter earlier had given her so much to think about that she forgot today was supposed to be about Blaine—she'd missed talking to him and having him around, but she understood why he needed the time away. He'd been remarkably evasive about how he was spending his time here, but when Sebastian had joined them at lunch, well, it wasn't hard to see how affected her brother had been by Sebastian: the blush in his cheeks, his wide-in-wonder eyes.
Affected or not, Blaine had a boyfriend and he'd never do anything to jeopardize that. Kurt was nice enough, had a wonderful smile and a cheerful personality. Her mother said it wouldn't last, that young love never lasts, but Blaine and Kurt work because Kurt had patience and he respected Blaine's beliefs. Blaine never talked about his relationship much, but after eight years of being his sister she knew things about him not many other people did.
Maybe Blaine wasn't in love with Kurt, but he's loyal to the people he cares about.
What is she doing though?
She'd spent the entire afternoon trying to figure out what to do, whether to trust Hunter and trust Sebastian with her body. She wanted to learn, she wanted to know about sex and learn what she liked, she wanted to know how to make a boy feel good, to do to his body what Sebastian had done to hers. She wanted to feel that kind of power.
Jesse was four years her senior, he probably had a lot more experience, and she didn't want to disappoint him. How could she give him pleasure if she didn't know the slightest thing about sex?
So she'd made her way to Sebastian's room, long after Hunter had left, long after Sebastian returned from the retirement home with Blaine. She sat on his bed and ran a hand over the sheets, remembering vividly how he'd made her feel, how her body had throbbed and stuttered and fallen apart. She wanted to do that to him too.
It's right before dinner when Sebastian makes it into his room, closing the door behind him and muttering "Shit" under his breath. She wonders what happened to put him in such a bad mood.
She gets up from the bed, her arms behind her back, self-conscious.
"Rachel? What are you doing here?"
She shrugs, feels her cheeks heat up; she can't believe she's going to say this. "I thought you might want to pick up where we left off."
There's a brief hint of panic that flashes in Sebastian's eyes, and she thinks she must've done something terribly wrong. Panic starts in her as well, maybe this is too forward, maybe Sebastian doesn't like this, maybe he'd prefer a girl with more experience too. After all, if everything her mother told her about him is true, he already knows the ins and outs of this.
But Sebastian composes himself.
"Miss Berry. Are you sure you want to let me corrupt you like this?"
Her heart beats like crazy.
"Yes," she whispers.
Sebastian walks over to her and captures her lips with his own, kissing her with a verve that wasn't there last time. She clutches at his waist to keep her balance, Sebastian's height intimidating, his hands are in her hair and his mouth claims hers and she goes dizzy with it: Sebastian's lips and trying to breathe and this closeness she's only allowed him up until now.
Sebastian pulls back. "What did you have in mind?"
"I want to know how to make you feel good," she says, reaches down to palm over Sebastian's crotch.
He runs his fingers down her neck. "You made me feel pretty good last time."
She likes Sebastian. A lot.
No one's ever touched her with such care, made her feel special like this, not on this level, like her body's precious and it needs to be cherished. Sebastian doesn't see her like Cassandra does or the boys in high school; all they saw was an awkward little girl, ashamed of her body, and she can't really blame them. Despite her mother's eye for fashion she's always preferred to cover her body with knit woolen sweaters, preferred wearing flats over heels—she can't figure out what Hunter or Sebastian see that others haven't.
"But—" she protests, because she wants it all now, see Sebastian naked, touch him, go all the way with him.
"No but," Sebastian interrupts, placing his index finger over her mouth again.
A smile pulls at her lips.
"Giving someone pleasure should always feel good. Otherwise you're not doing it right. It only works if we're both getting something out of it."
He removes his finger, smiles down at her. "Okay?"
"Okay," she breathes.
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Rachel Berry is one of a kind. She's putty in his hands, ready to be molded, ready to learn, and he's not ashamed to admit that she's the perfect distraction after a very confusing day. He doesn't want to think about Blaine anymore, not right now, it's him and Rachel and the bed, clothes coming off slowly, whispered instructions and the sound of breathing.
Last time her responses were flawless, her breathy sighs and moans, her hand tangling in his hair, the way she spread her legs for him. Rachel knew what she wanted, and that made this so much more fun.
He takes his time with her, has her begging by the time he peels off her panties, drags his nose and lips over her abdomen, licks between her breasts, rubs and nips at her nipples, hands roaming wherever he can possibly go. She's sensitive everywhere, her body responding to every touch, clenching and shaking, and he can forget about everything.
He focuses on her body and his own, it's just the two of them and each other's pleasure. He tells her how to hold his cock, not too tight, guides her hand up and down, shows her how to drag her thumb over the head. She jerks him off slowly while she straddles his lap, her eyes wide and mesmerized, lips parted, easing off again once he tells her to. He sits up and kisses her lazily, digs his fingers in around her hips into the small of her back.
And then he tells her to use her mouth, whispers the words into her ear and a shiver runs through her body, fear and excitement dueling for a say. But Rachel had decided what she wanted before even coming here and before he knows it she's settled between his legs, licking a line up his cock and down again, mouthing his hard-on, her head bobbing up and down, teeth pulled over her lips, sucking him off after little to no direction. He closes his eyes and savors the sensation, deprived of sex for over a week now. It takes him all his strength to keep his hips from bucking up, but he doesn't stop himself from putting a hand to the back of her head, guiding her however he can.
He's craving release, but he stops her before she finishes him, not sure if after all these new things she'd be ready to swallow his come. Besides, there's so much more for them to do. She releases his cock with a wet pop, her lips swollen red and smeared with a mixture of spit and precome.
She kisses him again, both hands on his face and there's a desperation echoing through her entire body—she wants him, all of him, all that he can give her and all that he can take. This is the ultimate experience, sharing something so intimate with another person, this physicality; he can't imagine how feelings could possibly make this better.
He switches their positions on the bed again, settling on top of her, a light sheen of sweat covering their bodies. He reaches down between her legs, tells her to relax, that he'll only penetrate when she's ready. He works two fingers inside first, she's so wet already but too tight; he kisses her and whispers nonsense, scissors his fingers. Her body's taut with tension, practically begging for him to fuck her, but he adds a third finger first, stretching her, making sure she's ready for his cock. There are rules to this, things to do and things to avoid, and he'll never cross those lines.
She helps him roll on a condom before he runs his thumb up her pussy and starts massaging her clit, working in slow circles. Rachel cries out, her orgasm rippling through her in waves because this time he doesn't stop, he curls his fingers inside her one last time, and then replaces them with the head of his cock. A moan breaks free from his lips at the feel of the tight wet heat, easing inside her; Rachel grabs his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin.
She tenses beneath him and he stills, burying his face in the crook of her neck until he can feel her relax. He rolls his hips, making her moan and he takes it as his cue to start moving. It won't take him long, he's managed to drag it out for almost an hour now because he needed it, to forget, to get a little lost, but his own body is begging for release. He sets a steady pace, not too fast, reveling in the heat between them, uncomplicated, natural.
He knows this. He understands this. He could do this with his eyes closed.
He cries out his release a few moments later, spilling inside Rachel, his orgasm hitting him hard and long and he closes his eyes. He wants to hold this moment, bottle it up and keep it captive, uncomplicated and freeing.
He pulls out and crashes face-down next to her, but his high doesn't last long. His head was clear for an hour, he didn't need to think about anything else but now it all comes crashing back: Blaine and that kiss and holding his hand, Hunter and Rachel and the bet. What is he doing with his life? How did he become this pathetic heap of a guy who used sex as a distraction? Sure, he tells himself he's doing this for Hunter, but Hunter's vendetta against Brody was petty and childish.
Is he acting petty and childish too? Has he somehow lost track of who he is and why he's doing this? Was Marley Rose proof enough that he needed to stop living his life like this, plotting, scheming, exacting revenge over something as trivial as money?
And what was Blaine exactly?
He's not this person; he doesn't question himself, he doesn't lose confidence at halftime and he never passes up a score. He could have Blaine, with the right words and tone of voice, he knows exactly what to say to him to make him buckle.
The problem is he's lost sight of whether or not he'd actually mean it.
He turns his head and looks at Rachel. She's staring up at the ceiling, sheets pulled over her naked body.
"Are you okay?"
Rachel nods, shrugs, turns her head to look at him. "I just—I thought it would hurt."
"You'll be a little sore in the morning," he says while he turns over, pulling the sheet up to his waist. "But it's not supposed to hurt."
Rachel settles on her side, head propped up on her elbow. "What's bothering you?"
"What makes you think something's bothering me?" he asks, but the real question is exactly when did everyone start reading him so well.
She casts down her eyes. "Is it me?"
He takes a deep breath; she took one hell of a time to get insecure. "No. You were fine."
"Is it someone else?" Rachel asks, and somewhere deep down he thinks she intentionally avoids asking if it's Blaine. He has wondered how Blaine knew Rachel, how they became friends over eight years ago. He can't really imagine them approaching each other without a good reason. Then again, he's been underestimating them both.
"Are you in love with someone?"
"We're not having this conversation," he says, tosses the sheets back and gets out of bed. He doesn't want to think about this, the past hour has been about forgetting and he'd be happy to forget anything at all happened with Blaine today. Because why would he evaluate his feelings when Blaine refuses to face his own?
"Where are you going?"
He pads into the bathroom. "Showering while you get dressed and head back home."
"Need any company?" Rachel calls from the bedroom.
He chuckles. "No."
"Want a blowjob?"
"Goodnight, Rachel," he calls back, and right before he closes the bathroom door he swears he hears Rachel whisper 'Prude'.
He checks himself in the mirror, a little worse for wear but that's to be expected after the day he had. His body's relaxed, his hunger sated, but his skin doesn't feel quite right. It's not guilt over what he and Rachel did, or what he's doing for Hunter.
It's the kiss with Blaine; it's seeded itself into his skin and bones, Blaine's lips and eyes burned into his memory, the way he felt and the smell of his cologne, his raspberry scented hair gel. He smiles to himself and it's the same overwhelming feeling as earlier in the car bubbling to the surface, breaking free from a place he never knew he possessed.
Maybe he really does have feelings for Blaine.
He shakes his head and rolls his shoulders, attempts to shake his unease. He steps into the shower and turns on the water, hoping that the shift from cold to warm will bring him solace.
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27
INT. SCHUESTER ESTATE – BLAINE'S BEDROOM – night
He can't stop thinking about it. The entire day has been spinning circles in his head and he doesn't think it'll stop any time soon.
Something changed with Sebastian today.
The car drive home was heavenly, the thought that he could make Sebastian laugh; not the smile or grin but a boyish laugh a pitch higher than his speaking voice—it did things to his stomach, made it turn and flutter and it's unlike anything he's experienced before. He'd reached out for Sebastian's hand without thinking, without the need to think, Sebastian's fingers lacing through his. It was natural, organic, something that's been growing for the past week. He can't decide if it's because Sebastian's the only one so close to him here, the proximity to another human being forcing him to feel, or if there are actual feelings involved. He likes Sebastian, a lot, when he's honest and unguarded, when he lets himself go and someone real shows through the cracks.
But then there was that kiss. What was that? How did it happen? How had he let it happen?
He can still feel Sebastian's lips on his own, the gentle slide of his tongue, the smell of his hair and his skin, something boyish about that, too. He'd never been kissed like that, with such passion despite the slow pace, he'd never felt that wanted or wanted someone so badly. It was never like that with Kurt, not the passion, not the heat, not the utter and complete lack of obligation. Despite everything, the flirting and the questions and his manifesto, he got the feeling Sebastian didn't want anything from him he was reluctant to give him.
Which proved to be the problem.
Sebastian stopped him thinking, short-circuited his brain and overrode everything he thought he believed. He wanted to surrender to Sebastian, he wanted the kisses and touches, the heat and lack of clothing, he wanted to feel Sebastian all over his skin, to be tempted and taken and—
No, he couldn't trust himself with Sebastian.
Maybe he's lucky Sebastian acted out, that he chose insult over reason, because he wouldn't have been able to resist. He kissed Sebastian back, there was no hesitation, and he'd do it again.
He still doesn't know how he managed to leave Sebastian behind, how he made it to his car with his legs still so unsteady. He drove around aimlessly for hours, trying hard to forget about everything that happened, but the more he tried, the easier it was to remember. And his time with Sebastian had been memorable.
He'd skipped dinner in favor of hiding in his room, realizing that he couldn't possibly face Sebastian without something happening again. He'd been shut up in here for hours, sitting on his bed, lying on his bed, putting on his PJs in the hopes of catching some sleep. But nothing worked, the nervous flutter in his stomach was still there, and every time he closed his eyes all he saw was Sebastian.
What is he going to do?
There's a knock at the door, and only a small part of him hopes it's Rachel. He hasn't seen her since lunch, and he's not sure he has the nerve to tell her what happened today, breaking up with Kurt and kissing Sebastian. It's all still too confusing to spin into a coherent story.
"Come in."
The door opens a few seconds later and of course it's Sebastian, as gorgeous as ever in some washed out jeans and a blue V-neck shirt, his hair still wet from a shower, or a swim, who knows.
Sebastian closes the door behind him and stands back against it, a distance between them that seems impossible to bridge.
"I came to say goodbye," Sebastian says, a new sound in his voice, sad almost.
He gets up from the bed, stands opposite Sebastian, but respects the distance he forces on him. "Where are you going?"
"Back to the city. Might head to France for the rest of the summer."
His heart drops, the thought of that great a distance more than he can bear. Maybe it's what he needs to clear his head. Maybe it's what they both need.
"I think that's for the best."
Sebastian nods numbly, stares down at his feet. He can't stand to think that he's the one making Sebastian sad.
"Sebastian, please," the words are out before he can consider them, but they did become friends during this crazy roller coaster ride of a week and he doesn't like people leaving him because he pushed them away. It's one of his less charming character traits, the way he retreats inside himself when things get too tough. "I don't want us to end on bad terms."
Sebastian looks up at him, draws in a steady breath. "I'm afraid you don't get a choice. You can say what you want about me, but at least I'm not a hypocrite."
He frowns, struck by how the simple accusation manages to hurt so much.
"How am I a hypocrite?"
"Please, Blaine," Sebastian scoffs. "You're hot one minute, cold the next."
Pain inches across his chest. He's not this boy, is he?
"You make me feel like I'm not good enough for you."
What? Blaine thinks, when did he ever give Sebastian that idea? He wasn't very accommodating when they first met, but he likes to think he made up for that. Maybe he's been blind all along; maybe Sebastian really does like him.
"I'm sorry if—"
"You spend all your time preaching about waiting for love and guess what, sweetheart?"
Sebastian takes a step closer, fresh out of apologies, forcing his height on him once again.
"Here it is."
He blinks, and opens his mouth, but the words don't disappear between them.
It's out there. Love.
"Right in front of you," Sebastian says. "But you're going to turn your back on it."
He's not—is he? Have his convictions somehow blinded him to the truth? His head keeps spinning, it doesn't stop, he can't hear this without his heart breaking, without realizing his feelings for Sebastian are stronger than he's been willing to admit.
"I'll move on, but you—" Sebastian swallows hard. "You'll have to live knowing you turned your back on love."
No.
"That's what makes you a hypocrite."
He's right, the thought strikes him like lightning.
Sebastian turns without casting him another glance.
He doesn't want Sebastian to walk out of his life. If it were up to him, if all that really mattered was he and Sebastian and the rest of the world be damned, then yes, he'd be with Sebastian, completely.
And what does the world matter right now, right here in this room? Where's his dad and Shelby? Where's his conscience telling him it's too soon, that he's not in love, that he's breaking a vow he made because of his mother? He never had anyone tell him he'd know when he found the right boy, that something inside him would shout clearer and louder than anything else.
Right now every cell in his body shouts not to let Sebastian go.
"Wait—" he says, deliberate and purposeful, and he's closing the distance between him and Sebastian before Sebastian decides he's done with him once and for all.
He walks over and puts a hand to Sebastian's hip, the other reaching for the key in the door.
He's acutely aware of his and Sebastian's body heat now that they're so close, his heart's pounding in his ears, his body throbs. He can't believe he's going to do this, but it feels right.
He can't let Sebastian walk out of his life.
He turns the key to lock the door, feels Sebastian's hand move up his arm. Nerves rip through him as he looks up to meet Sebastian's eyes, heart racing, his stomach making turns.
He wants this.
Sebastian wants this.
So why not?
He meets Sebastian's eyes and raises himself on his toes, lips finding Sebastian's as if they've done it a thousand times, as if they've been doing it for years. His hands are at Sebastian's hips and Sebastian's reach up to cup his face and it's the same as before, heat coiling inside his stomach, tingles down his spine, and it's almost scary how badly he wants to surrender.
He parts his lips and Sebastian licks into his mouth—he moans, Sebastian closer than ever, he and Sebastian all that matter right now, the taste of Sebastian's tongue, his heat, the way Sebastian sucks at his lips.
Sebastian was right, he's been preaching his beliefs for so long, but what did all of it mean without the ability to recognize love when it stood right in front of him? He's never been in love, so how was he to know? How could he have known Sebastian would sneak his way into his heart, so fast and so completely?
He backs them up toward the bed, the same pace as before and he loves how Sebastian leaves this up to him, lets him decide how fast this will go, gives him time to adjust to these new sensations, hands roaming, wanting to touch everywhere at once, Sebastian's perfect body flush against his.
Sebastian breaks the kiss, eyes finding his, as if asking for permission. Everything he ever thought about Sebastian was wrong, he's not the bad guy, he doesn't use all his tricks just to get people to sleep with him. Even if feelings hadn't come into play before, Sebastian respects this, his boundaries, his newness to all this.
He reaches for Sebastian's pants, undoes the button, pulls down the zipper.
He's breathing hard and he's getting a little lightheaded, but everything seems so clear in pinpoint precision; there's Sebastian, there's him, and that's all that's important. He wants Sebastian to make love to him, be the one to strip him bare, lay him open for just his eyes to see—he moves his hand to reach inside Sebastian's pants, wants to feel him like he's only ever felt himself before, get him hard and know that it's because of him—
But Sebastian pulls back.
Something shifts. Something's wrong.
"I can't," Sebastian says.
His hand stills.
Sebastian takes a step back, breath caught in his throat and he swears there are tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Sebastian chokes out and staggers another few steps back.
Panic clutches around his heart. What happened? What did he do wrong? He didn't move too fast, Sebastian wanted this as much as he did, so why is Sebastian rejecting him? Did he mess up, had he waited too long? Or has Sebastian realized that he didn't want him after all, that he wasn't worth the trouble, that he wasn't experienced enough?
Or worse, maybe he didn't turn Sebastian on.
But the same word (wait) or something similar (Sebastian, let's talk about this) doesn't escape his lips, can't, because now there are tears in his eyes too and a strangled cry right at the back of his throat when he sees Sebastian turn and head for the door. Sebastian unlocks the door, opens it, and disappears through it.
Gone.
He rushes toward the door and locks it again, forehead against the dark wood, shoulders shaking.
Sebastian doesn't want him.
He turns and sinks down to the floor, where he stays most of the night, holding back tears.
.
.
tbc
.
