Guys, only one more chapter, and then this sequel will be a wrap! I do have a few more things to share from this universe, although they'll probably be more along the line of stand-alone one-shots rather than a whole sequel. I'm not ready to say goodbye yet. But I'll focus on completing my WIP No Regrets before I dive into future scenes in this universe.
If you have any unanswered questions or prompts, let me know and I'll see what I can do.
Warnings in this chapter for efforts at writing smut...
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you could recognize here.
"Do you ever feel as if your life has turned into a romcom?"
Kurt can feel the rumbling of Blaine's laughter under his head, resting on his boyfriend's chest. Blaine runs a hand up and down his stomach, not intending to be arousing, just closeness and simple touch.
"Yeah, sometimes," Blaine murmurs, and without looking Kurt can visualize the grin on his boyfriend's face. "But is that so bad?" he adds, and now he sounds concerned.
"Never," Kurt hurries to reassure him. "I love this surprise, what you set up for us. Sometimes it's just a little hard to believe that this is my life," he tries to explain, and waves with his hands as if they can embrace the picnic blanket they are sprawled out on, and the big basket with all kinds of delicious snacks. With exams coming up, they've gotten a few days off from classes to study and prepare. Blaine and Kurt have been working diligently, the lure of New York dangling like a carrot in front of their eyes. But sometimes you need a break, and Blaine had convinced Kurt to take two hours off for a lunch in the lush park behind the main building at Dalton. Blaine being Blaine had prepared something more than just two sandwiches and a thermos with coffee. "I love you," he adds, not in afterthought, but in honesty.
He closes his eyes to the sun, and enjoys this pause from his books, just resting silently and closely. This little exchange almost doubled the amount of words they've shared during lunch, the boys rather focusing on eating, trading kisses, biting over ripe raspberries against the other's lips, a little daring groping in the park, and this comfortable almost-napping in the sun. Blaine set an alarm on his phone, just in case.
"Love you too," Blaine murmurs, and slides his hand up from Kurt's stomach until it rests right over his heart.
This is nice, Kurt manages to think, before he's startled by something landing on his hip. He moves his sunglasses to his forehead, and cranes his neck to see what's going on.
"I told you to put the lid back on the basket," Kurt sighs, and looks at the red dog curled up between them, with his head on Kurt's thigh chewing an apple.
"Inferno!" Blaine beams, and the dog tips his ears to show he's listening, but continues to gnaw on his treasure.
"My pants," Kurt groans, and shifts a little to encourage the dog to move. Inferno flips over on his back, still chewing what's left of the apple, his tail wagging happily against their blanket.
"What made you so happy, boy?" Kurt muses, and pets the dog's chest. "Or are you always this enthusiastic about fruit?" Inferno's tail taps against Kurt's knee, and the dog wraps his front legs around Kurt's arm, as if he's holding on to make sure he'll continue petting him.
"Aww!" Blaine coos, and reaches out to scratch behind Inferno's ear. "Please tell me I'm not the only one thinking ten years into the future right now, with a baby between us, enjoying summer in a New York-park?"
"You're not," Kurt swallows, and turns his head to kiss whatever he can reach, like Blaine's chin. It's just recently he's allowed himself to think about a future like this, and whenever he does it always includes Blaine. He doesn't know if he can be a good dad, he doesn't know if he'll find a decent job where he earns enough to properly support his share of a family, he doesn't know if Blaine will still love him in ten years. But if Kurt has anything to say about it, he knows he wants to spend every single day for the rest of his life with Blaine.
Dave pulls awkwardly at the neckline of his football shirt, takes a deep breath, and finally opens the door after a second insistent knocking.
On the other side of the door stands a young man wearing a grey suit, and that's about all Dave can say about his clothes. He doesn't know Gap from Gabbana. But whatever – whoever? – the suit is, it looks good on the young man, and Dave swallows, futilely trying to keep it soundless.
The other man smirks, and removes his dark sunglasses.
"Mr. David Karofsky, I presume?"
"Uh, yeah," he nods dumbly.
"Excellent," the young man grins, and claps his hands together. "I've heard great things about you. I'm a talent scout, and maybe you have… the qualities I'm looking for," he grins wickedly, and Dave can't help blushing.
"I hope I do," Dave nods eagerly. "Umm…" he hesitates, trying to think of something clever to say. The young man just looks at him expectantly, but patiently. "It would be a shame if you drove all the way here for nothing?" Dave suggests.
"I'm sure it won't be a waste of my time," the other man winks. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"What? You're a vampire now? I thought you said you're a talent scout," Dave snorts, but steps aside to let the other man inside.
"Clever!" he replies, and pockets his sunglasses. "But how reckless behaviour, inviting someone in without asking for their name."
"But I already…" Dave begins to object, but then he remembers. "I'm Dave Karofsky," he says determinedly, and extends a hand to the other.
"What a pleasure," the other purrs, and holds his hand longer than a regular handshake would call for. "My name is Mr. Smythe, but I'm sure we'll soon be close enough for you to call me Sebastian. You can call my name as much as you like," he says and licks his lips.
At that Dave can't help but crack up, and he turns around to hide his laughter from his boyfriend. He tries to swallow the laugh, and ends up coughing instead.
"That's a nasty cough you've got going there. Maybe we'll need a thorough physical of you as well, and not just an assessment of your skills on the field. I heard that you can go very… Very… Deep."
Dave clears his throat, and turns around again.
"I've never gotten any complaints," he shrugs, but grins.
"I see," Sebastian growls, and steps closer. "You come with recommendations? Well, I hope you are aware that if you play for my team, I expect total devotion and no distractions from other players."
"That is a given," Dave nods.
"Good," Sebastian nods with him, and pats his shoulder pads. "I see you've got your protection gear on. That's wise of you; you can never know when or where an accident happens."
"Most accidents happen in the home," Dave says awkwardly.
"That they do," Sebastian nods again, and smiles as he closes the last miniscule distance between them. "So tell me, have you protected every single part of your body?" he asks, and drags a finger along the inseam of Dave's thigh.
"Yessss," Dave hisses, because duh, he'd been instructed to wear his uniform today. The jockstrap's a part of it.
"Oh my God, that's hot," Sebastian groans, but shakes his head, and plasters on a lofty expression. "So what would you say is your strongest quality on the field? Illegal use of hands to the face?" he suggests, and runs a finger along Dave's jaw, to his chin and up to his lips, where Dave licks at the pad until Sebastian groans again.
"I guess it's my man-to-man defence," Dave murmurs, and wonders when he's supposed to start undressing Sebastian.
"Perfect answer," Sebastian purrs. "It seems as if you are entirely perfect for my needs. Wanna score extra points?" he quirks an eyebrow.
"Sure," Dave agrees curiously, his arms swinging uselessly by his sides.
"Be my wide receiver," Sebastian hisses into his ear. "I want to shoot the gap," he adds, and it makes absolutely no sense, and is still some of the hottest things Dave's ever heard. He guesses this is a good enough time as any to drag that tie off of Mr. Smythe.
"No," Sebastian stops him. "Drop the pants and take a knee," he orders, and unzips his pants just enough to ease out his erection. Without looking at him, he marches over to the bedside table, and with familiarity finds the bottle of lube. By the time he turns around, Dave is already pantless on hands and knees.
He squats down in front of him, and gently cups his face. "Is this okay?" he asks softly.
Dave chuckles and nods eagerly. "I'm not sure I'm doing this right, but it's fun."
"You are doing everything so right," Sebastian assures him, and the words make both Dave's heart and cock swell. Sebastian kisses him softly, the first kiss they've shared today, before he gets up, and uncaps the bottle.
"So, are you ready for me to enter the neutral zone? It's going to be a muffed punt," he drops his voice again, and squeezes Dave's butt cheeks.
"What?" Dave blurts out, because it's obvious that his boyfriend, who really isn't all that into other sports than lacrosse, has swallowed a dictionary on football terms. And he's spewing it back out in the weirdest way.
"It sounded hot," Sebastian shrugs, and then drops his voice to Serious Talent Scout again. "That's it, that's the kind of player I need for my team. Someone who knows how to perform," he says, and eases the first slick finger in, "someone who adds something special to the table," he says, and grabs the shoulder padding with his other hand.
"Go deep," Dave grunts, and Sebastian adds a second finger.
For a deliciously long time, all Dave can feel is the movement of three and then four fingers opening him up, and the rough fabric of Sebastian's pants against the back of his thighs. His heart is beating in his ears, and above him Sebastian is muttering dirty words and moaning as his fingers disappear inside him. Dave is faring no better, and is muttering a string of words that may include his boyfriend's name among others.
"Here's a bump and run," Sebastian finally groans when his dick is nudging at the entrance. "So good, my star player, gonna go deep, such a great wide receiver, holy fuck you are playing it tight," he stutters, adding a few more crude efforts at talking football, while a hand is running soothingly along Dave's back.
Dave tries to meet him, thrust for thrust, because he is a team player, after all.
"Close," he exhales shakily, blood and air too busy to help him talk properly.
"Here," Sebastian hisses, "m'gonna… Give," he says with each thrust, and snakes a hand around Dave's waist into his jockstrap, and jerks him firmly, "You… A… Touch… Down!"
Dave comes with a shout, and tightens his muscles to speed Sebastian along. His boyfriend hisses something slurred together to nonsense when he comes, and collapses over Dave's back.
"That…" Sebastian finally exhales, and pulls out carefully, before rolling over on his back on the floor. Dave lets gravity lead him down next to him.
"What were you saying?" Dave wonders.
"I were just wondering about your fumble recovery time. That was amazing!"
"You're sure? I'm not an actor or performer, I didn't always know what to do or say."
"You were hot," Sebastian says seriously, and kisses him sweetly. "Thank you for doing this with me. But if you didn't like it, we don't have to do it again," he says with honesty, and scoots closer to rest on Dave's arm.
"Christ, Bas, you're rolling around like a kitten in my come, your suit is gonna be ruined."
"You say the sweetest things," Sebastian cackles. "Okay, I guess your bed is better suited for a nap," he says, and peels off his jacket. "Or round two," he wiggles his eyebrows.
"You're the expert on balls and sticks," Dave laughs. He's been reading up on sports too, maybe he'll figure out a way to weave in some of the stuff he read about lacrosse.
"It's nice of you to come watch the game," Paul Karofsky says kindly, and smiles at Sebastian next to him on the raisers.
"Isn't this what you do if you're dating a football player?"
"I guess," Mr. Karofsky chuckles. "I stopped playing after high school, but at least back then my girlfriends would come to watch."
"You had more than one?" Sebastian asks curiously, not sure if he's impressed or repulsed.
"Not at the same time," his boyfriend's father shakes his head, and cheers loudly at something happening on the field. Sebastian follows blindly in on the applause.
They are silent for a while, watching the game. Sebastian realizes he doesn't know much about this sport, even if he read up on terminology through a Wikipedia article. He's mostly here to be a supportive boyfriend, anyway. And to ogle his boyfriend in tight pants. Maybe throw in a celebratory fuck. Or a consolation blowjob. As soon as Mr. Karofsky has left, at least, Sebastian doesn't want to mess up anything between Dave and his father. Besides, Sebastian would die if he walked in on his parents doing it, so he's pretty sure no parent wants to think about their kids having sex either. He grins to himself. It's blessingly liberating to date someone older, someone who doesn't live with parents or noisy siblings. If he'd realized this earlier, he'd gone for college boys years ago.
"You're pretty serious about my son, aren't you?" Mr. Karofky asks during a lull in the game.
Sebastian looks carefully at the older man, trying to weigh how much to say. He knows Dave's dad has said he's okay with them, and Sebastian's been at their house for dinner a few times. But Sebastian also knows some parents seem understanding and tolerant, meanwhile thinking it's just a phase. A temporary experimental date isn't the same as a set future. So should he reveal that he's been upping his workload at Dalton in order to graduate one semester early, so that he can move to Columbus and be closer to his boyfriend?
"I've never been more serious about anyone before," he decides to say, hoping the man won't question how serious a teenager has possibly managed to be in his short life.
"You take good care of each other," Mr. Karofsky says, or does he ask?
"We try," Sebastian says carefully. Does the man have any complaints? Sebastian likes to think he would have known if his boyfriend weren't happy with him.
"Good," the man nods, and then he's silent for some time, until he startles Sebastian by revealing something unexpected. "I'm divorcing his mom. I still love her, but I can't live with someone with such a different view on… life, morale, stuff. I guess this is a bit weird for you to listen to."
"It is," Sebastian agrees honestly.
"I wouldn't have told you, if I didn't think you'd need to know," Mr. Karofsky insists, and looks briefly at Sebastian before turning his eyes back to the field. "I'm telling Dave later… I know he doesn't tell me everything. We're not as close anymore; it feels as if he's still trying out how I feel about this whole… You know, gay-thing. Which he doesn't have to, because I love him regardless, and you seem like a good kid, so neither of you have to worry," he says, and pats Sebastian shoulder hesitantly.
"David, he may seem strong, but he's also insecure. God, he's still just a kid," Mr. Karofsky shakes his head. "And I don't want him to blame himself for this. His mom left us when he came out, but if our marriage had been of any worth, we would have been able to work this through. This marriage hasn't been all that great for some time, and I think we were living together on habit. It's not his fault if this speeded things up towards a divorce. I don't want him to feel bad about this," the man says and looks at Sebastian until he meets his gaze.
"Okay," Sebastian swallows. "I'll keep an eye on him."
"I've been reading," Mr. Karofsky says. "I got some internet-recommendations from Mr. Hummel. You know him? He's the father of the gay kid Dave bullied," Mr. Karofsky says with a shaking voice.
"I know his son, Kurt. He goes to my high school."
"Oh, that's right. I think maybe you've already told me. I'm sorry if I forgot, it's been a lot…"
"It's okay, Sir."
The man looks at him again.
"Thank you."
The action intensifies on the field, so they spend a breathtaking moment following the players fighting for new points. Columbus scores, and the raisers explode.
"Are you happy?" Mr. Karofsky asks Sebastian when everyone have calmed down again.
"Sure," Sebastian shrugs, wondering what the man is up to.
"It's just that, the things I read from Mr. Hummel, it really isn't easy to grow up as gay, is it? Kurt's not the only one who ends up… doing what he did?"
"No, he isn't," Sebastian agrees.
"I love my son, and I want him to be happy. I thought it meant a wife, a few kids, a solid job and now and then sharing some great beer with a buddy or two," Mr. Karofsky snorts. "I'm still working on adjusting my vision for him. But he's not supposed to blame himself for this divorce, is what I'm saying. And because I don't think he'll come to me with his worries, I was hoping you'd help me help him understand that it ain't his fault."
"I'll do my best, Mr. Karofsky," Sebastian promises sincerely. "But if I can cross a line or two as well here," he drawls, "Dave speaks very highly of you. If he doesn't come to you, it's most likely because he doesn't know how, and not that he doesn't want to. He's hurt by his mother, but he doesn't want to come between the two of you either. He's a better person than I would have been in the same situation," Sebastian scoffs. "If he doesn't know how to approach you while you're fighting, it really isn't mine or his job to figure out how to deal with you through a divorce."
"That was frank," Mr. Karofsky says silently.
"Yes," Sebastian agrees, but he doesn't apologize.
"Thank you," the other man says, and Sebastian meets his eyes. They share a small smile, before turning their attentions back to the field.
"So, maybe you'd like to join Dave and me for burgers after the game?" Mr. Karofsky eventually asks. "If they win, I'll add dessert."
Sebastian glances up at the scoreboard. 13-11 to the home team.
"That'd be great, Sir," Sebastian smirks. Dave and he have all the time in the world for other ways to celebrate.