A/N: The follow-up to 'A Dalton Boy on His Knees'. Rated M. Warning for minor heat play and minor breath play.
Sebastian doesn't call Kurt right away. He waits for days, playing it cool. He doesn't want to seem overeager even though every day that passes burns him up inside. He keeps the violet business card tucked into the corner of his desk blotter where he can look at it when he sits down to do his homework, which usually turns into him gazing out his dorm room window to daydream and recall every blissful moment of being spanked by Kurt. Several times he'll pick up his phone and contemplate - how long is long enough so that he doesn't seem like a desperate schoolboy?
The welts on his ass have faded, but the memory, still crystal clear, colors everything he does day after day until he nearly can't stand being away from Kurt any longer.
It's late Thursday afternoon, after killing it on the lacrosse field, when he decides to make the call, because after practice, sweaty from running, his muscles aching, is when he feels the most confident, the strongest, the most like himself. He sees the time on his cell phone screen and curses. It's later than he realized. The sun has already started to set and he has no idea when Kurt usually leaves to get to the club. He'd rather not have to leave a message.
He has waited so long to talk to the man himself.
Sebastian dials the number, his hands shaking, but he writes it off as over-exertion on the lacrosse field and not the excitement of talking to Kurt again.
Sebastian smiles at Kurt's ring-back song – Marilyn Manson's cover of I Put a Spell on You.
He doesn't get too far into the song before a familiar high-pitched voice mutters through the line, "Hello?"
"Hey," Sebastian says too brightly and he immediately wants to bite his own tongue out. "Uh…I don't know if you'll remember me…"
"Sebastian?" Kurt asks.
Sebastian blushes a furious shade of red at the thought that this man would remember him, remember the sound of his voice. Maybe he has been waiting for Sebastian to call.
"Yeah," Sebastian says, dropping his head to his desk. Could he be any more lame than the lame he is acting right now?
"It's about time, preppy," Kurt mumbles. Sebastian imagines Kurt's lips locked around a clove cigarette while he lies down in bed; naked, tattooed and pierced body on display. "I'm not a man who's used to being kept waiting."
"Sorry about that, master," Sebastian teases.
The line goes quiet and Sebastian holds his breath, not sure whether or not he just committed some huge sub faux pas.
"It seems like a spanking did nothing to cure you of your little attitude problem," Kurt says, flat and stern but with the subtlest hint of a smile that Sebastian can feel resonating through his voice. "You know, you have quite a smart mouth on you, preppy,"
"I've been told that before," Sebastian continues, eager to see how far Kurt will let this banter go.
"You're just looking for trouble," Kurt says, and this time he chuckles. "We're going to have to fix that."
"How exactly do we fix it?" Sebastian asks without considering the consequences.
"Well, you're going to meet me at the club Friday night at eight o'clock sharp, and you're going to bring a change of clothes."
Sebastian's eyes go wide.
"Why bring a change of clothes?" Sebastian asks, trying to picture what Kurt might do to him that would ruin his clothing.
"Because, preppy, your next lesson in discipline is going to take place at my house…" Sebastian hears Kurt take a deep drag of his cigarette and blow the smoke out slowly before returning to the line, "and you're staying the night."
Kurt said eight o'clock sharp and Sebastian isn't taking any chances. After the final bell on Friday, he rushes to his room without a word to anyone about his plans and packs his overnight bag. He decides to not change out of his school clothes. He has a feeling that Kurt likes his Dalton uniform. He hits a road block when he can't decide which outfit to bring, so he ends up stuffing three outfits in his bag, rolling his eyes at his own behavior. He catches his reflection in the mirror – his tousled hair, his flushed cheeks, his creased brow - and scoffs. He barely recognizes himself. What is he doing? This is not the way Sebastian Smythe acts. He doesn't drop everything and run when another man snaps his fingers. Sebastian sets the rules. Sebastian calls the shots.
He hears the timer that he set on his phone go off and realizes that if he doesn't leave soon, he might hit traffic. Hitting traffic means being late…and missing his chance with Kurt.
The image his mind conjures of Kurt from when they met – the black stiletto boots (Sebastian swallows, recalling the sensation of the smooth patent leather beneath his tongue), his mesmerizing blue-green eyes, glimpses of pale skin peeking out from beneath his black net shirt – is enough to silence the voice in his head and get him back to packing.
Sebastian doesn't care what he looks like now. He mentally tells himself to shut the fuck up and zippers up his bag.
He leaves Dalton on time and gets to the club half an hour early. He sits in his car and waits, fidgeting in his seat as he watches Kurt from a distance. Kurt is smoking a cigarette and talking to a man that Sebastian can only assume is another dom by the way he's dressed and how casually he acts around Kurt - putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder as they laugh at some shared joke.
Sebastian chews his bottom lip raw as he watches this man - this other dom - whisper in Kurt's ear, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him close. At one point, he takes the cigarette from between Kurt's lips to smoke it, leaving a chaste kiss behind on Kurt's cheek. Sebastian stews in his car seat, gripping the steering wheel in his hands and twisting it as if he's preparing to rip it off its pillar.
Sebastian tells himself that he should be disgusted with himself for acting like such a jealous little bitch. He's never had much respect for the overly possessive type, but then again, he's never been jealous of anyone before. So, for now, if the dog collar fits, he might as well wear it. Sebastian decides to get this show going before he does something embarrassing and disgusts himself even more.
Sebastian walks up to the pair quietly, trying to tone down his usual swagger, knowing that his cockiness won't get him as far here as it might in other bars or with other men. He tries to coax out that new side to his personality that revealed itself for the first time when he spoke to Kurt – the part that would do anything that Kurt told him to, the part that wanted to bend to Kurt's will. He is still struggling to find it when Kurt turns his way and sees him coming.
"There's my beautiful pet," Kurt coos, letting go of his dom friend and putting an arm around Sebastian's waist, "and in his sexy schoolboy uniform, no less." Kurt reaches up and wraps Sebastian's tie around his fingers, letting it slip through the spaces between. "Present, pretty and punctual - exactly the way I like my subs."
Sebastian and the other man stare at each other with the same vulgar interest. The dom standing before Sebastian and Kurt is all sorts of glam fabulous - dressed in tight leather pants and wearing a sheer, barely there black shirt, with a dangerously spiked collar secured around his neck. He has a massive hole in each earlobe, filled with a black wooden plug decorated with a fine-lined lotus flower. His eyes are blue; so blue they're almost white beneath the glowing street lights – not quite as captivating as Kurt's blue-green eyes, but disarming nonetheless, if not all together unnerving. If Sebastian actually believed in monsters and demons, he could probably convince himself that this man is a vampire.
"Preppy, this is Elliot," Kurt says, either unaware of the tension in the air or purposefully ignoring it. "He's my partner in this freaky paradise."
Sebastian offers the man his hand and the man shakes it, squeezing a little tighter than Sebastian thinks necessary, but Sebastian – having participated in one or two pissing contests before in his life – doesn't let it show. He doesn't squeeze back, either. The last thing he needs is for Kurt to find out that he disrespected another dom – not just another dom, but his business partner. That sounds like the sort of infraction that could make Kurt dump him as a sub for good.
Elliot drops Sebastian's hand with the glimmer of a secret smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and Sebastian suspects that he may have been subjected to some sort of test.
He wonders if he passed.
Kurt looks at Sebastian and frowns with disappointment.
"So, where's your bag?" Kurt asks, searching Sebastian over front to back, needing no excuse to ogle Sebastian's body but taking one anyway. "I don't lend out clothes, preppy."
"I'm sorry, master," Sebastian says, this time with his head bowed and without a hint of condescension. "I didn't know if you wanted to leave right away. I left my bag in my car."
Kurt turns to Elliot, his eyebrows raised as if Sebastian's behavior proved some previously debated point. Elliot rolls his eyes, appearing not to concede. Kurt shrugs and turns back to Sebastian.
"No b.d.," Kurt says, taking a final drag of his cigarette and surrendering what is left of the butt to Elliot. "Where are you parked?"
Sebastian turns and points down the street. Kurt lets go of Sebastian's waist and takes a step forward, squinting against the street lights to peer into the dark.
"You're going to have to help me out here," Kurt says. "I see a Fusion, a Charger, and a Porsche, and I know you're not rolling in a Porsche."
When Kurt turns back to Sebastian, Sebastian's hands are shoved in his pockets, his eyes downcast as he smiles sheepishly at his feet.
Kurt chokes out a laugh.
"The Porsche?" Kurt asks, his voice joking and incredulous all at once. "You're eighteen and you're driving a Porsche?"
"Yup," Sebastian says, his cheeks hotter than he would like. He doesn't care how red he gets as long as Kurt keeps smiling at him with that look of awe on his face.
"Change of plans," Kurt says, taking Sebastian's arm and dragging him away, "we're taking your car."
Kurt turns back to say good-bye to Elliot and stops at his friend's disapproving frown.
"Aw, don't be upset, Ells," Kurt coos over his shoulder. "You're still my number one."
Sebastian glances over his shoulder and watches a small smile lift the frown on Elliot's face, but when his eyes shift to look at Sebastian, they are hard and entirely unamused.
Kurt blows Elliot a kiss and tugs Sebastian closer, moving faster toward his car.
"What do you mean by 'number one'?" Sebastian asks, daring to slip a hand over Kurt's where it's curled around his bicep.
Kurt casually rests his head against Sebastian's shoulder, and Sebastian catches his breath.
"Elliot and I have known each other forever," Kurt explains, "and we have this deal that if we get middle-aged and fat with no prospects of love that the two of us are going to get a house together and become crazy old cat men."
Sebastian chuckles lightly. Kurt looks up from under his eyelashes when he feels Sebastian's shoulder shake.
"What?" Kurt draws out the word. "You don't like cats?"
"Uh…no," Sebastian says, caught off-guard. "I like cats just fine."
Sebastian pulls his key fob from his pocket and unlocks the car doors.
"So…what's so funny?" Kurt's tone is light but more demanding now. He leans his back against the car and yanks Sebastian's tie, pulling Sebastian's body against his.
"I…" Sebastian doesn't want to say the thought that crossed his mind, but he doesn't want to lie. It's strange that not lying is his first compulsion. He has no problem lying to anyone else, even his parents when the situation requires it.
"Tell me, preppy," Kurt whispers, pulling the tie tighter, twisting it at the Windsor knot, choking Sebastian just enough to make him dizzy.
It doesn't frighten Sebastian at all. He finds it mildly intoxicating. Sebastian's eyelids flutter shut as the knot tightens again.
"I…find it hard to believe that you'll ever have trouble finding love," Sebastian confesses.
Kurt lets the knot go quickly, and the rush of air to Sebastian's lungs makes him weak at the knees. He falls forward, bracing himself with his hands on the roof of his car, one on either side of Kurt's body, caging him in.
"See?" Kurt asks. "Now, was that so difficult?"
Kurt's voice is just as enticing, just as teasing as it always is, but there's a break to it, as if Sebastian's comment struck a nerve. Sebastian doesn't want to pry. Kurt doesn't seem like the kind of man who parts with his secrets too easily, but Sebastian wants to hear them.
He wants to earn Kurt's trust.
"Don't get mushy on me, preppy," Kurt says, tutting his tongue. He puts his hands on Sebastian's chest and pushes firmly, helping him stand. "We should get going while the night is young. Do you need me to drive?"
That snaps Sebastian from his stupor, and that snarky part of him that he hid away slips back. He sees Kurt's eyes shining up at him, challenging him, his lips hovering so close he can taste the cloves on Kurt's breath.
"You can flog me within an inch of my life, master," Sebastian says, respectfully but with a sly smile, "but no one drives my baby except me."
Kurt's smile takes up most of his face. He reaches up and bites Sebastian's lip sharply, hard enough that it almost bleeds, a small punishment for speaking out of turn. Sebastian swallows the pain…along with a moan.
"I like that, preppy," Kurt whispers, running his tongue across Sebastian's bitten lip. "I like your fiery attitude."
"Do you?" Sebastian asks, taking his chances while he still has Kurt pressed up against his Porsche.
"I do," Kurt admits. "It's going to make it so much more fun dominating you."
Kurt comes closer, so close to kissing Sebastian that Sebastian's whole mouth waters, waiting for that sinful tongue to slip past his lips, craving its metal ornament stroking the roof of his mouth, but Kurt pulls away again, devilish grin disappearing into Sebastian's car. Kurt had taken a step forward to open the car door, and now he is shutting it behind him.
Sebastian takes a moment to mourn the kiss he wanted so badly until he realizes – Kurt is in his car. Kurt is sitting in his car. Kurt is waiting in his car, waiting for Sebastian to drive him to his house and then…
Sebastian can't even imagine, but he doesn't want to wait and daydream any longer.
He scurries indignantly to the driver's side of the car, slowing down as he approaches his door when he sees Kurt through the tinted windows throw his head back and laugh. Sebastian takes one last look at the club, the clusters of doms and subs gathered by the entrance to get in, and that unnerving pair of cold, pale eyes watching him. Sebastian nods solemnly, but Elliot rolls his head on his neck, sticking Kurt's cigarette between his lips. He turns on his heel and makes his way back to the club.
Sebastian opens his door and slips into his seat beside Kurt, who looks blissful reclining in the leather passenger seat and breathing in deep.
"You know," Sebastian says, putting his key in the ignition and firing the engine, "I'm not sure your friend Elliot likes me."
"Oh, he doesn't," Kurt says, running his hands over the leather door panels, letting his fingers drag across the dash, "but don't worry about him. I won't let him hurt you." Kurt flashes a grin Sebastian's way. "Unless you want him to, of course."
"Uh…no." Sebastian puts the car into gear and pulls onto the main road. "I'm all yours."
Somewhere between second gear and third gear, as Sebastian merges onto the highway, he swears he hears Kurt say, "Good."
Kurt's directions take Sebastian to a quiet, suburban neighborhood only a few miles away from his club. Sebastian turns down a swirling labyrinth of streets, each one identical, lined with cookie cutter houses and perfectly trimmed, green lawns – reminiscent of 1960s era Americana. Kurt points to one of the cookie cutter houses at the end of a cul de sac and Sebastian obediently pulls up front. He isn't sure what exactly he expected when he pictured Kurt's home, but for sure it wasn't this.
"God almighty, I love this car," Kurt murmurs, reaching for the door handle with a sad whimper. Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt's arm to stop him, putting up a finger to indicate 'one minute'. Sebastian leaps out of his side of the car, hurries over to Kurt's, and opens the door for him.
"My, my," Kurt says, affecting a Southern belle accent, putting a hand to his chest and fanning himself with his other, "what a gentleman." Sebastian retreats to the trunk to retrieve his bag and the car cover, with Kurt's laugh following him the whole way.
Kurt watches Sebastian cover the Porsche, pouting when the last inch of shiny black car is concealed completely.
"Pity," Kurt sighs, gesturing toward the walkway with an incline of his head, "if I had a car like that, I think I'd live in it, sleep in it, fuck in it…"
Sebastian nearly misses a step at the thought of Kurt in his lap, naked, writhing, bouncing on his cock in the passenger seat of his Porsche.
He swore when he got the car that he'd never sully it by fucking anyone in it.
Now he can't wait to get the chance.
Kurt stops at the door, key poised at the lock. He turns completely around to face Sebastian.
"When you pass through this door, preppy, you agree to my rules. You submit completely to me. Once our session starts, you don't speak unless you're told."
Sebastian's mouth goes dry – his tongue suddenly too big to make words. He nods after a pause and Kurt continues.
"I won't ask for permission to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you, and I'll assume everything is green unless you say the safe word. Do you understand?"
Another nod.
Kurt looks at Sebastian carefully, examining his face – specifically his eyes – closely.
"Good," Kurt says, happy with Sebastian's non-answer. Apparently his eyes gave Kurt the answer he was looking for.
Kurt unlocks the door and pushes it open leading the way inside.
Sebastian has a last minute vision of what he'll see inside - walls painted black and covered in chains, leather shackles and whips scattered everywhere, maybe even a rack of some sort, Medieval-looking and festooned with spikes. There'll be no real furniture, maybe a few industrial pieces of art, edgy and gritty.
Again, the reality that smacks him in the face is far more devastating than anything he could possibly imagine.
Normal. Everything is normal – almost painfully so, such a contradiction when compared to the exquisite eccentricity that is Kurt. Sebastian stops and stares, spinning in a circle and taking it all in - a plain brown velour-upholstered sofa, a matching La Z Boy recliner beside it, a bland wood coffee table with a glass top, a cream colored carpet to match cream colored walls covered with framed family photos, each one painting a much different image of the man covered in tats and piercings watching Sebastian with particular interest as he quietly evaluates Kurt's life.
"So…" Kurt says, keeping the sentence open-ended and waiting for Sebastian to fill in the blanks.
Sebastian's expression is hysterically shocked. He raises his eyebrow in silent question.
"We haven't started yet. Feel free to talk," Kurt says, leaning over to unzip his boots, "but take off your shoes while you do it. I just had this carpet cleaned."
"It's…uh…" Sebastian drops his bag and takes a last look around, "not what I expected…exactly…"
"Even us sexual deviants have to live in houses, too, you know," Kurt says.
"It's not that." Sebastian uses untying his laces as an excuse to think up a better response than 'it's not what I expected'. He picks up his Oxfords and places them beside Kurt's boots by the front door, aware of Kurt's blue eyes on him. "What I meant was…"
"Do you have a dad, preppy?" Kurt asks, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cloves from his back pocket. He opens the pack and picks a cigarette out. He puts it between his lips and lights it.
"Yeah," Sebastian replies.
"Well, so do I." Kurt takes a long drag from his clove and sighs as he exhales the smoke from between his lips. "He lives in Lima, not too far from here. He likes to come visit, and I like to make him comfortable, you dig? So I keep my shit in my room or in the dungeon downstairs, and I cover the kitchen table."
Sebastian nods, but then he scrunches his nose, confused.
"Kitchen table? Why cover the kitchen table?"
Kurt smiles, beckoning for Sebastian to follow with a curled finger as he walks further into the house.
"You'll see why."
Kurt leads him through a pair of French double-doors into the dining room, and then through another doorway to the kitchen.
The kitchen is rustically decorated, Sebastian notices, like one might find in a cottage in the French countryside, even down to the little rooster touches on the wallpaper and the dish towels. A rooster-shaped decorative cake pan hangs on the wall over the stove, and copper pots and pans dangle from a runner on the ceiling. It reminds Sebastian of all those summers he spent at his grandmother's estate in France.
Kurt walks up to a honey-colored, knotted wood table and smacks his hand down on the hard surface.
"This," he says, bending over to pick up a thick rope already tied to the legs, threading it suggestively between his fingers and tugging on it to test its strength, "is where we will start our first session."
Sebastian looks over the table and the ropes, and gulps so loudly that Kurt's smile goes from a suggestion to a fully realized wolfish grin.
"While you're in my house, you will be naked at all times unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"
Sebastian nods, but he can't take his eyes off the table. For a plain wood table it's strangely imposing.
Kurt takes another inhale off his clove and rounds the table, leaning his hip on the edge and quietly calling Sebastian's focus. It's not too difficult. Even without speaking a word, Kurt is not a man that can easily be ignored.
"Do you like heat, preppy?" Kurt asks.
"I don't know what you mean…"
"Put out your hand."
Sebastian puts out his hand, not knowing what to expect, and Kurt quickly crushes out his cigarette in it. Sebastian takes a sharp breath, his eyes wide. His first instinct is to jump or swat it away, but he trusts Kurt, and bizarrely if that means letting him burn him with his cigarette than he will. To his surprise it's not all that hot. Kurt presses it into an area of skin that's heavily calloused from holding his lacrosse stick, so there's no real burn. There's a sudden flare of intense heat on his skin, but it tingles as it fades, the resulting shimmer over his skin intensely erotic.
Kurt flicks the butt into the trash. He puts his lips up to Sebastian's cupped hand and gently blows the ash away. Then he places a small kiss to the burn and wraps Sebastian's fingers around it.
"Yes," Kurt purrs, "you're a good boy."
From that single press of Kurt's lips to Sebastian's hand, his entire body thirsts to have him – not that he wasn't on the edge of needing to be inside this man's body for the last few days, but this is that new feeling – that feeling of wanting to obey Kurt's every command.
A feeling that only seems to surface at the sound of Kurt's voice and the touch of his lips on Sebastian's skin.
"Now, why don't you be a good pet and go take a shower?" Kurt suggests, but it's not a suggestion. It's an undeniable command. "I want you to clean everywhere…and I mean everywhere."
Kurt takes Sebastian's arm and steers him towards the first door down the hall.
"Everything you need is inside." Kurt shuts the door slowly, eyes locked to Sebastian's as he closes the gap. "And remember to leave your clothes on the hamper. You won't be needing them tonight."
The door clicks shut and Sebastian is alone.