A/N: On a dare, Sebastian goes to a BDSM club where he meets a young dom and the club's owner, Kurt, who takes Sebastian on as his pet for the night. (Warning for shaming, bondage, flogging, age difference but not underage, smoking, and slightly genderfluid dressing.)

It starts with a dare among the upper classmen. Wes found out about the club on a weekend trip to Columbus with his parents, and a lot of big talk later there were plans to go and wagers made, carpools assigned, but as luck would have it Sebastian is the only one who follows through. He is more intrigued and excited than he outwardly admits, not wasting time to change out of his Dalton uniform when he leaves so as not to get stuck in afternoon traffic. He arrives at the BDSM club ten minutes earlier than planned, but over an hour later he's still standing outside alone.

"Fucking cowards," Sebastian mutters beneath his breath, but he's not going to spend the evening slinking back to Dalton without seeing any action just to bitch about being stood up by his pussy friends.

Sebastian stands in the shadows and watches the customers walk by, trying to get a feel for the clientele, waiting for an opening to jump in. He's normally not so nervous, but deep down he knows this isn't a regular bar or night club, and even though he played out this scenario a dozen times in his head on the drive over, he's not sure how to begin.

A tall, thin man rushes by and catches Sebastian staring from his hiding place against the wall. The dress code everyone here lives by seems to require tight jeans, some sort of revealing top, leather and spike accessories, black eye makeup, and en excessive amount of piercings. The man speeding by has taken this look to extremes – a ring of liquid liner perfectly applied around his eyelids; multiple rings in his ears, his eyebrow, and his nose; and spiked bracers on both arms. Their eyes lock for a second before the man breezes into the club as if he owns it.

"Live past your stereotype," Sebastian mumbles with a huff. He waits a few more minutes, checking his cell phone one last time for a text, a missed call, anything, before finally making the decision to wander inside. He pushes off the wall, searching his back pocket for his wallet and his fake I.D.

"Hey, preppy," a distinctly high and authoritative voice calls out, commanding Sebastian's attention. "Are you out here looking for trouble?"

The thin man he had seen enter the club earlier is bearing down on him, having exited the club from a rear door and circling around the building toward the entrance.

"Jeez," Sebastian says, leaning back against the wall to soak this man in, his uniquely beautiful face scowling at Sebastian with an unexplained expression of disgust. "Could you be anymore cliché?"

"I could," the man says, crowding Sebastian in, putting a hand on each side of his head and pinning him with his body, "if I had the time to fuck around. But I'm getting a little sick and tired of you privileged Catholic school boys coming here and harassing my customers. So if that's what you are, you can blow away on your own or I can call my bouncer out here and he can make you take a walk…" The man bounces his head back and forth with a look of mock contemplation on his face. "…but probably minus one testicle. It's your call."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sebastian takes a defensive step back but with nowhere to go he smacks his head onto the brick behind him. "I'm definitely not a Catholic school boy," Sebastian chuckles, not missing the irony. "I'm actually a customer."

The man steps away from Sebastian and raises an eyebrow, grazing over Sebastian's uniform with wary eyes.

"I-I was supposed to meet some friends, but they wimped out on me," Sebastian explains, feeling the heat from this man's glare on his skin, searing him like a branding iron.

"I see," the man says, his voice somewhat calmer, not entirely impressed by Sebastian's story but apparently convinced that parts of it are true. "So, are you afraid to go inside, or do you need some…guidance?"

Sebastian's mouth goes dry. His first instinct in any normal club would be to buy this man as many drinks as it would take to convince him to follow him into the bathroom for a quickie, but Sebastian can't quite imagine taking him on his hands and knees. This man is in his element here and quite obviously has the upper hand, which puts him in control. Sebastian has never met a man like him before. He's not necessarily intimidated by him, but he can't help but be a bit in awe of him - his confident strut when he walks, his 'I'm hot as fuck and I know it' attitude, his shit eating grin, and the subtle simmer in his ever changing blue-green eyes. It brings out something unusual in Sebastian, something he knows he's never felt before. He wouldn't mind giving in to this man; wouldn't mind bending to his whims, especially if it gives him the opportunity to take a peek at what's hiding beneath his severely tight jeans.

Suddenly he's thankful that no one else showed up.

"A little assistance might be nice." Sebastian's normally smooth, cool demeanor falters beneath the other man's disarming, hungry grin. "This is my first time at a club like this."

"If you need some help, what would you say to being mine for the night?" the man offers.

"I don't know," Sebastian says with a shrug, looking the young dom up and down, from the purple streak in his upswept hair, to the oversized gauge in his left earlobe, the flock of small blackbirds tattooed around his neck, down his black net shirt, and his knee-high stiletto boots, shiny patent leather gleaming like an oil-slick beneath the arch sodium street lights. "I guess I'm up for anything."

"I'm Kurt."

"Sebastian." His name almost catches in his throat when Kurt's eyes travel down his body, sizing him up, lingering somewhere around his waist, and return back up to his eyes.

"Do you have some I.D.?" Kurt asks, raising a hand and making a motion with his fingers. Sebastian pulls out the driver's license he paid way too much money to have made, but he considers it money well spent when Kurt hands it back with a pacified nod.

"Well then…" Kurt tilts his head, his blue eyes shining in the shifting light, "we'll start you off as a puppy, which means you'll spend the night on your hands and knees. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I think so, Kurt," Sebastian responds nonchalantly.

Kurt's eyes immediately go dark.

"No, no, no," Kurt tuts. "You refer to me, when I allow you to speak, as master. Understand?"

"Absolutely." Sebastian nods, biting back the urge to roll his eyes.

Kurt crowds against him again, and the heat that radiates from his eyes, the no-nonsense self-control, kills any urge Sebastian has to sass him back.

"I am your master," Kurt repeats in a low, dangerous tone, "and you are my pet. You will not speak unless spoken, too…" Then Kurt backs away, and his eyes become softer. "But if there's anything I do that makes you uncomfortable, your safe word is 'butterfly'. Understand?"

Sebastian swallows.

"I understand," he says in a more respectful voice.

Kurt curls his fingers into the Windsor knot of Sebastian's tie and tugs sharply down, bringing Sebastian to his knees. He turns the tie around, using it as a leash.

"Then come along, puppy," Kurt says in a sing-song voice, pulling Sebastian along with him through the double doors of the club.

The room they enter is dark, the music loud, but from what Sebastian can see it looks like any ordinary club. Sebastian scuttles along after Kurt, trying his best to keep up, never realizing how difficult it would be to crawl on the floor before he agreed to it. They enter the main room and Sebastian can see the legs of tables and chairs, and a faux wooden dance floor. Wandering around are other doms parading their human pets, some with collar and leashes, in all manner of dress and undress. Sebastian sweeps his eyes over the groups gathered around the room. He finds it unreal how much pleasure these pet subs seem to get from being made to heel. Some of them lie at their master's feet; some curl around their master's legs; some sit up straight at attention waiting on commands.

In any other situation, Sebastian might find this behavior dehumanizing, but sitting at Kurt's feet while Kurt runs massaging fingers through his hair gives Sebastian a tremendous sense of peace, of safety, and with that, an urge to please Kurt.

An hour later, however, Sebastian is bored as shit. Kurt and his friends jabber away about fashion, about some school called NYADA, but most of all about musical theater of all things. Sebastian rolls his eyes more than once, much to the dismay of another dom's pet sitting across from him who tries to signal him with wide, pleading eyes to stop.

"Whatever," Sebastian mutters, and that single word, spoken without permission, catches Kurt's attention.

The conversation at the table stops dead. The other doms sitting with Kurt look playfully affronted with wicked grins on their faces, while the other sub simply gives up on his wayward friend and lies contentedly at his master's feet.

"Oh, preppy," Kurt coos condescendingly, cupping Sebastian's head in his hands and talking to him nose to nose the way he would address a disobedient dog. "You broke the rules, pretty boy."

"What are you going to do with him, Kurt?" a bubbly African-American woman seated at the table asks. "I mean, he's only a puppy after all."

The baby talk gets on Sebastian's last nerve but he focuses on staring straight ahead and waits for Kurt's decided punishment.

"It's his first infraction." Kurt screws up his face and looks at the ceiling, giving the matter some not so serious thought. "Maybe I'll go easy on him." Kurt looks back at Sebastian and smiles, running a finger over Sebastian's lips, making them tingle. "I think that pretty mouth of his can lick my boot."

Sebastian hears Kurt, but he doesn't move. He can't have heard what he thought he heard.

Kurt fixes Sebastian with hard, determined eyes.

"Lick my boot," he commands firmly.

Sebastian locks eyes with Kurt, defiant green challenging a more amused blue.

"No?" Kurt asks when Sebastian continues to stare. "Well, then that makes two strikes for you, puppy."

"Uh-oh…" another dom at the table, an older blond with a distinct British accent, says.

Kurt slips from his chair and kneels on the ground beside Sebastian, pushing with a hand between his shoulder blades until he's lying with his cheek pressed flat against the ground.

"You look like the kind of boy who gets by on his charm and wraps people around your finger," Kurt whispers. "You probably have a whole harem of little boy toys at that expensive school of yours jizzing all over themselves to do whatever you tell them to." Kurt's amused smile grows into a devilish grin. "I think I know exactly what you deserve."

Kurt sits back up on his chair and beams.

"Two strikes!" Kurt announces to the table. "You all know what that means!"

Laughter rises up around them, and the blond man smacks the table with the flat of his hand as if sharing the hidden punch line of a shared joke.

Kurt turns his attention back to Sebastian with laughing blue eyes.

"Puppy needs to be spanked," Kurt says, overemphasizing his words to be sure they're understood, "so puppy is going to get flogged."

Kurt bends down to grab hold of Sebastian's tie, pulling him up till Sebastian is kneeling close to Kurt's mouth.

"Please tell me you're at least 18."

Sebastian scoffs quietly, then bites his tongue hard to keep from doing anything else stupid, but Kurt seems to let it slide.

"You saw my I.D. I'm 21," Sebastian insists.

Kurt shakes his head.

"Yeah, and I've seen enough fake I.D.'s in my time working here to spot one from 50 miles away," Kurt hisses. "Yours is good, I'll give you that, but it's not real."

Sebastian sighs in defeat.

"Yeah, I'm 18."

"Excellent," Kurt says brightly, standing and pulling Sebastian, practically dragging him across the floor when he stumbles trying to keep up, falling forward and knocking his right elbow into a chair leg.

"We're headed to the paddle room," Kurt calls to onlookers as they pass by, "if anyone wants to come."

The hair on the back of Sebastian's neck prickles and stands on end at the thought of a crowd of people trailing after them to watch him get spanked, but only a few couples take the bait.

The paddle room is about the size of a small classroom, empty except for a set of long benches along the walls. There are some strange pieces of furniture and various odd implements scattered around that Sebastian doesn't get the time to examine since he's being dragged along to a pair of wood blocks in the center of the room.

"This is my favorite," Kurt says. "We call it the pew. A lot of praying happens here."

The pew is two long pieces of polished wood set a few feet apart with shackles and cuffs chained at each end. Kurt stops Sebastian in front of it. He drops the tie and circles Sebastian lazily. Sebastian hears Kurt's heels click against the smooth floor and then stop somewhere behind him. Kurt pulls Sebastian's pants and his boxers down to his knees, and then rolls his shirt and his blazer up his back, exposing him to all eyes in the room. Sebastian shivers, blushing over every inch of skin, which is definitely a feat since not much makes Sebastian blush.

Sebastian isn't ashamed of his body, but being laid bare in public, made vulnerable partially for other people's amusement, is not something he's used to. It's uncomfortable and demeaning. Still, being flogged by Kurt anywhere seems super hot, and Sebastian isn't willing to back down. He's in this for the long haul.

Kurt settles him over the wooden blocks, starting by spreading his legs wide to secure Sebastian at the knees to the ends of the first wood block, and then pulling his body forward to cuff his wrists to the second wood block. It's awkward but not too uncomfortable…until Kurt pulls the wooden blocks apart, stretching Sebastian out across a farther distance in an extended plank position. Sebastian's stomach muscles strain to keep his body upright, and Sebastian clenches his teeth to suppress a groan.

"Nice abs, preppy," Kurt says, patting Sebastian's stomach and humming appreciatively. "You must have some incredible stamina." Kurt crouches down and whispers so only Sebastian can hear. "Could you imagine me fucking you on this thing?"

Sebastian closes his eyes, a sudden rush forcing the blood in his brain south of the equator as he envisions this beautifully pierced and tattooed man pounding in him from behind, completely naked, manicured nails digging into Sebastian's hips, that sing-song voice chanting Sebastian's name over and over and over…breathy…broken…

"Open your eyes, preppy," Kurt purrs, "there's something I want you to see."

Sebastian's eyelids open slowly, and then blow wide at the flogger in Kurt's hand.

Kurt grips a stunted handle wrapped in red leather. Twelve braided black leather plaits spill from the end, and at the tip of each, a perfect red leather rose. Sebastian's flexes his hands in his cuffs, his palms sweating profusely. His whole body shudders as he breathes too quickly.

Sebastian's not afraid of many things, but he's not an idiot. He doesn't like pain.

"Calm down, preppy," Kurt mutters soothingly. "You know the safe word. Say it once, and this all ends…but I promise you, you'll enjoy it." Kurt runs the flogger up and down the length of Sebastian's back, the leather roses stroking his skin like fingertips; gentle, light touches that raise goose flesh all over and Sebastian starts to relax. He breathes in deep and melts against the wood. Kurt gives Sebastian no warning, so when Kurt pulls back and lets the flogger fly, the strike startles Sebastian more than anything. The roses land in a spray over his body, some hitting his spine, most hitting his ass, a stray one or two brushing his balls. He yelps, a sound that's a confused mixture of pain and surprise. Around him voices titter. He hears muffled whispers and the shushing of doms to one or two less disciplined subs.

Kurt gives Sebastian a moment to register the strike, and then hits him again in roughly the same spot. Sebastian jumps, but doesn't yelp quite as loudly this time.

"So how was that, puppy?" Kurt drawls. Sebastian can hear the smirk in his voice, the subtle tease, embedded layers of control.

"Oh my God," is all Sebastian can manage through quivering lips. He doesn't know what else to say. He's never been spanked by anyone in his life. Once the sting dies down, once the pain ebbs away, every inch of his body sparks with arousal.

"Shall I do it again?" Kurt asks, standing smugly poised beside Sebastian's body with the flogger at the ready.

Sebastian considers the question for a second. Does he want to be spanked again?

"Yes," Sebastian rushes in a desperate breath.

"Yes, what?" Kurt asks tightly.

"Yes…please?" Even as the words leave his mouth he knows he's forgetting something. He wracks his brain for the right answer, his head muddled by the heat rising along his bruised cheeks and the need to feel that flogger against his skin.

"Yes…please…what?" Kurt leads him along, fanning the tails of the flogger over Sebastian's back. He feels the breeze of them swaying back and forth, but they don't touch him, and God does he want them to touch him.

"Yes…master." He comes to it with a triumphant chirp that makes Kurt laugh.

Kurt strikes Sebastian again, three times in succession, and Sebastian's body trembles, his wrists straining in the cuffs. Kurt takes a moment to circle Sebastian's prone, bound body and admire the view – the welts forming on his skin, his muscles fighting to keep him suspended, and his tight hole clenching with every hit. Kurt swings and slaps him again, a little harder to see that hole tighten around thin air. Kurt's own cock responds to the thought of those muscles closing around him, fitting over him like a glove.

"Are you going to fuck your puppy?" a faceless voice calls from somewhere in the room.

"I might," Kurt teases, "if he was being a good puppy."

Kurt hovers by Sebastian's ear, muttering softly from behind, "and if he was old enough to legally be here."

Kurt straightens up and swings again, and this time a fatigued Sebastian grunts out loud. His reaction to being spanked is so glorious – sweat beading along his back, his legs quivering with effort, his cock, flushed and throbbing, curved up against his taut stomach. Kurt strikes him again and watches as Sebastian's cock bounces in response.

"I don't think I'll have to fuck him to make him cum," Kurt comments aloud with a satisfied giggle and another hit.

Kurt's cock is growing painfully in his own jeans, and he begins to question who's really the one being punished here. It almost makes Kurt weep at the thought of how long it's been since he's fucked an eighteen-year-old.

"Have you ever had an orgasm off the end of a flogger?" Kurt taunts. He lets the tails trail between the crack of Sebastian's ass, the rose ends playing over his balls. Sebastian squirms, trying to follow the plaits as they leave his skin.

"No, master," Sebastian grumbles in frustration, so close to cumming, so close to collapsing.

Kurt hits him again and again, giving him no time to rest, edging him closer, and when Sebastian's arms and legs are about to give out, Kurt stops and steps away from the pew, taking a long, deep breath to steady himself.

"God, you do want it, don't you?" Kurt pants, as ready to explode as Sebastian looks. "You're so hot and ready for it, aren't you?"

Sebastian's not entirely sure this isn't more than a rhetorical question, but he can't help answering it anyway.

"Yes, master," he says, the word a barely audible sound.

"Come on, puppy," Kurt says, crouching down and threading his fingers through Sebastian's sweaty hair. "Tell me you want it."

"I w-want it, master," Sebastian stammers.

"Beg for it." Kurt yanks hard on a fistful of Sebastian's hair, his lips so close to Sebastian's mouth that Sebastian can taste Kurt's breath – hot and sweet and intoxicating.

"P-please…m-master..."

"I'll give you what you want…" Kurt releases Sebastian's hair and his head drops on his tired neck, "…if you lick my boot."

Kurt stands and raises a knee, resting his stiletto heel on the wood block in front of Sebastian's face, inches from his mouth. Sebastian pants, watching his breath condense on the shiny surface. This time Sebastian doesn't hesitate. He attacks Kurt's boot as if it was his mouth, placing an open mouthed kiss to the ankle, licking over the joint and polishing the patent leather with his tongue.

"That's it, puppy," Kurt murmurs, leaning over and lashing Sebastian again.

Sebastian moans into the leather of Kurt's boot, the sound sending delicious vibrations tickling up Kurt's body, all along his spine. Sebastian hears the sounds of quiet muttering and whining in the dark outskirts of the room, the sounds of cuffs and shackles being locked as other inspired doms start sessions of their own around them.

"I'm going to make you cum just like this," Kurt groans, lash after lash snapping against Sebastian's skin, and Sebastian wonders in a brief moment of clarity amidst the haze of his mounting orgasm how close Kurt might be to cumming. Would Sebastian know if he does? Kurt seems so put together, so in control.

It suddenly doesn't matter when Sebastian feels the strikes get harder, coming faster, splintering along his ass, slipping into his crack, grazing his balls, a few strikes managing to propel the plaits around his hips to skim the roses along his throbbing shaft. Sebastian sweats across his forehead and into his eyes, finding it harder and harder to focus on his task, especially since his mind has begun to drift and he imagines licking over Kurt's pale skin, tracing his tattoos, his piercings, chasing that flavor of sweet and hot in his mouth, exploring his body to see if he can find it anywhere else.

What would it take to make Kurt squirm, to make him cry out in ecstasy?

What does Sebastian have to do to find out?

Sebastian's orgasm barrels through him like a freight train, hit after hit, until his muscles give out and he can barely move, every nerve overwhelmed by the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain; too much with not enough. If Kurt came, Sebastian doesn't know, though when Kurt undoes Sebastian's cuffs and pulls him into his arms, cradling Sebastian's spent and half-dressed body against him, there's no mistaking the wild thrumming of Kurt's heart in his chest.

Kurt holds Sebastian against him, making vague and obscure hand gestures to someone in the room, and the next thing Sebastian is aware of is a warm, wet cloth cleaning him up; steady hands pulling up his pants and fastening his fly.

Sated and utterly at ease, Sebastian can feel himself fall away in Kurt's arms. He must have started to doze off because he hears Kurt laugh where his ear rests against Kurt's chest, and a hand shaking him gently. Sebastian rolls his head on his shoulders to look up into the dom's eyes.

"You smoke cloves?" Kurt asks, pulling a pack from his pocket and giving it a little wiggle.

"Yeah," Sebastian says unconvincingly. "Yeah, sure."

"Of course you do," Kurt smirks. "Why don't we go outside and talk."

Kurt stands, but Sebastian positions himself on his hands and knees, preparing to crawl.

"No, no," Kurt chuckles, grabbing Sebastian's arm and pulling him to his feet, "I think you've earned the right to stand."

Kurt holds Sebastian's elbow and leads him to a hidden fire exit door in the paddle room, opening it and walking outside, letting the door shut behind them. Sebastian watches Kurt hit the pack of cigarettes against the palm of his hand. An awkward silence threatens to surround them so Sebastian says the first lame thing that pops into his mind.

"So is this really your club?"

"Yup," Kurt says, taking a clove cigarette out of the pack and offering one to Sebastian. He smiles wickedly when Sebastian takes it and holds it ungainly between his fingers. "Well, it's a partnership between me and an old friend from school."

"How old are you?" Sebastian asks as he watches Kurt light his cigarette.

"What do you mean 'how old are you'?" Kurt takes a drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke out quickly from the corner of his mouth. "Fuck you, that's how old I am."

Sebastian smiles, more bashful schoolboy than the overly confident smirk he's used to wearing.

"It's just that you look awfully young to be the owner of a club like this."

Kurt flicks the lighter in front of Sebastian's face. Sebastian puts the cigarette between his lips, inhaling deep when Kurt lights the end. The sweet smelling smoke burns his lungs and he coughs violently. He stands up straight and takes a deep breath of cool air. He attempts several times to look cool and save face, just to double over again in a fit of unattractive gagging.

"Those things will kill you anyway," Kurt laughs, clapping Sebastian hard on the back. Sebastian nods in agreement, but holds tight to his cigarette, backing out of Kurt's reach when he tries to grab it away.

"How do you like my club?" Kurt leans against the wall and takes another long drag, deciding to let Sebastian fumble with his cigarette by himself.

"It's not really my scene," Sebastian admits, joining Kurt at his spot on the wall, "but it could be."

Kurt blows out a mouthful of smoke into the night air, then turns to look at Sebastian.

"You like being a dog?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian inhales, managing to take a drag and exhale without sounding like he's choking to death.

"I like being your dog."

Kurt shakes his head.

"Don't get attached to me," Kurt advises sternly, but with a flattered half-smile on his lips. "I'm not always so nice."

"That's perfect," Sebastian says, feeling his old, cocky self returning, "because I don't do nice."

Kurt stares at Sebastian with narrow eyelids, quietly smoking his cigarette, lost in thought.

"Look, what I do here…we have strict rules," Kurt explains. "That's why I don't fuck underage subs here. I have to keep my liquor license."

Sebastian nods as if what Kurt said made any sense.

"But, in my private life I'm a bit more lenient." Kurt reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a business card holder, gold metal inlaid with mother of pearl. He flips it open and pulls out a violet colored business card with black embossed lettering.

"Why don't you give me a call," Kurt says, handing the card over. "And maybe we can work something out."

Sebastian takes the card and looks it over, memorizing the phone number quickly in case anything happens to it.

"Too bad I won't get the chance to have you fuck me on that pew," Sebastian chuckles nervously.

Kurt drops his cigarette and grinds it out on the cement with the toe of his boot.

"I have one of those at home."

Kurt winks suggestively and heads back toward the club. Sebastian doesn't want to see him go. He needs to have those eyes on him a while longer, hear his voice one last time before he leaves.

"I'll give you a call. I promise."

Kurt stops mid-step, his stiletto heel clicking loudly on the cement, and spins back around.

"Now, that's something different." Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and stares significantly at Sebastian.

"What?" Sebastian asks, slightly confused.

"Promises," Kurt replies. "Promises must be kept, so they must be sealed."

"H-how do you seal a promise?" Sebastian stutters, captivated by the serious yet playful glimmer in Kurt's eyes. Kurt pushes Sebastian up against the wall with his body, fitting against him, the feeling of Kurt hard and molding against his skin making Sebastian so ready to go back to the paddle room again.

"You seal a promise with a kiss," Kurt whispers.

Kurt winds Sebastian's tie around his finger and tugs, bringing Sebastian's mouth down to meet his, no invitation offered or needed. He presses his mouth against Sebastian's, slotting them together, delicate brushes of his tongue against the seam of Sebastian's lips.

"Oh…" Sebastian gasps when Kurt's tongue finally slips through, caressing Sebastian's tongue tenderly. Sebastian melts against the wall at the first sweep of Kurt's piercing against the roof of his mouth, and he moans as the smooth barbell strokes gently back and forth.

Kurt pins Sebastian back against the wall by his shoulders and pulls away from the kiss with a sly grin at the wrecked look on Sebastian's face. Sebastian tries to hold Kurt against him with hands cradling his hips, but Kurt effortlessly breaks free.

"Now you have to call me." Kurt walks backward toward the fire exit and knocks on the metal door behind him. It opens a crack and Sebastian watches Kurt slip through into the darkness, his perfect smile the last thing Sebastian sees before the door shuts and he's left outside alone once more.

The drive back to Westerville is torture, not because of his sore ass that stings with every bump in the road that his car hits, but because every sting reminds him of Kurt.

It's after four in the morning when he gets back to Dalton, and the campus is dark except for the senior dorm, where the top floor lights are burning bright. Sebastian walks dreamily to his room, replaying the entire night over and over and over, every brush of Kurt's fingers in his hair, every snap of leather on his ass, and that kiss – Sebastian can live on that kiss for the rest of his life if he has to.

A line of his traitorous friends peek their heads out from behind their doors as he passes, but no one talks to him until a guilty-looking Trent emerges from his room, dawdling in the hall, watching Sebastian approach.

"So, Seb?" Trent says casually, a few more Warblers venturing out of their rooms to join in the conversation. "How did it go?"

Sebastian eyes the small group, glaring at each boy one by one, but even as annoyed as he was at the beginning of the night over his best friends ditching him, he can't stop the grin of his face.

"Fuck you bitches," Sebastian says, heading off to his room with the shadow of a limp that makes Jeff snicker into his boyfriend's neck. "My lips are sealed."