A/N: This is the second half of Kurt dominating Sebastian at his house. (Just an FYI - in the installment after this one, Kurt will be telling Sebastian what he expects from him as a sub, so all of Sebastian's concerns in this chapter will be addressed in the nest chapter.) Warning for anal sex, bondage, rope bondage, fingering.
Sebastian stares at the wooden door closed shut in front of him.
Kurt wants him to shower. He ordered him to clean everywhere.
He even emphasized everywhere.
Still, Sebastian kind of wishes that Kurt had been more specific with his instructions. He turns around slowly in this pale gold bathroom – so simple and uncluttered, so plain, like the living room – but this room has a soothing effect unlike the others. It is more Kurt than any other room he's seen so far. The walls are sponge-painted, giving the effect of gold clouds instead of flat, boring paint. Scented candles line a wooden shelf on the wall - their charred, black wicks standing higher than the wax, melted almost completely away, each emitting the scent of jasmine. The air is thick with the sweet floral scent. Small mirrors are situated behind them to bounce the light around the room. Beneath the shelf of candles stands a covered bamboo hamper, which is where he is supposed to put his clothes. Sebastian stops at the sink, eying a line-up of products waiting for him – a brand new toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and a box with a suspicious looking red bulb pictured on the front.
Sebastian starts there.
He picks up the box and turns it over in his hands, reading the words printed on the side. The instructions make him do a double-take, and when he reads them over again he finally realizes what Kurt meant about cleaning everywhere.
Sebastian has never used an anal douche before. It's hard to maneuver, twice he almost fumbles the red bulb into the toilet, and he gets embarrassed even though he's in the room alone (thank God he doesn't get so flummoxed that he has to ask for help). As long as he remains Kurt's sub, he's sure he'll have to do it again…but it's not an experience he looks forward to repeating.
Sebastian showers thoroughly, but he also tries to be quick about it. He doesn't want to keep Kurt waiting and he's too eager to get back to whatever he has planned. Once or twice Sebastian entertains the thought that if he's in here scrubbing from head to toe, inside and out, what is Kurt doing? There has to be another bathroom – maybe a master bathroom. Is Kurt showering like he is? Covered in soap, sliding his hands over his wet skin, thinking of all the things he's going to do to Sebastian?
Is he…
Sebastian stops there.
Better not to think about that, Sebastian decides.
He uses every product that Kurt left for him. He brushes his teeth, shampoos and conditions his hair, he scrubs every inch of his skin that he can reach. Even though he is meticulous with his hygiene normally, Sebastian thinks that he has probably never been so clean in his entire life.
It feels weird to shower this rigorously. It's not the being clean that feels strange exactly, but the expectation of being this level of clean. There's only one reason why he would need to be this clean…and he can't wait to get to it.
He turns off the water and steps out of the shower into a room that is suspiciously absent of steam considering how hot he cranked up the water temperature. He finds a towel hanging on the back of the door, waiting for him – a towel he doesn't remember seeing when Kurt shut him in there, which means his dom (which is how Sebastian has decided to think of Kurt, kind of as a way to put him in the mood) snuck it in there while he showered. Sebastian picks it up off the hook. It's thick and plush, something Sebastian would probably not pick out for himself but he can appreciate it. It's nothing like Sebastian's taste, because Kurt is nothing like Sebastian.
All those boys at Dalton whose pants he's gotten into, all those boys from that private school in France his parents sent him to, are very much like Sebastian – spoiled, privileged, trust fund babies, with no real responsibilities other than to act superior and mildly rebellious while knowing everyday of their lives that they would eventually go into the family business. They talk the same, live the same, smell the same, fuck the same…
Not Kurt. Kurt is nothing like those boys, and that's why Sebastian wants him so badly.
Sebastian brings the towel to his nose and breathes in deep. It smells like Kurt and not some generic store-bought laundry detergent. It's cloves and jasmine and vanilla and leather. It's striking and unique, like a signature. It's a mark, and it's on him now. Sebastian raises an arm to his nose and takes a sniff. That smell on the towel, that smell of Kurt's skin, that smell in the air, it's on Sebastian, and this is another step in Sebastian's burgeoning understanding of what it means to be a sub.
Kurt isn't treating Sebastian like one of those lemmings that go to his club.
Sebastian belongs to Kurt.
Sebastian is Kurt's alone.
The air dries Sebastian's skin while he stands in the bathroom with the towel pressed to his nose.
From out in the kitchen, Sebastian hears the dull thump, thump, thump of someone hitting wood.
He smiles.
That's his cue.
Sebastian hangs the unused towel back on its hook and rakes his fingers through his hair, slicking it back so that it's neat since there is no comb or any other styling product available for him to use.
And no clothes.
He's not to wear any clothes the entire time he's there.
He looks down the length of his naked, excessively clean body and smiles.
Let the fun begin.
Sebastian opens the bathroom door and peeks down the hall into the kitchen. He's greeted to the sight of Kurt sitting at the wood table, his bare feet propped up on the surface as he leans back in his chair, a new lit cigarette pinched between his lips, his left fist resting on the table. His hair is wet so Sebastian was right, and he swallows, imaging how thoroughly Kurt might have cleaned. He's wearing a tight pair of dark wash denim jeans and a tight black tank top that rises up a bit at his waist, revealing a path of pale, creamy skin.
If Sebastian had his way, he would devour this man, and take his time doing it.
"Finally," Kurt says, pulling on his cigarette and letting the smoke escape his lips while he speaks, "I was afraid you might have drowned."
Sebastian opens his mouth for a comeback, but he remembers Kurt's rules. He doesn't know if this officially counts as the start of a session, but best not to take any chances.
Though the punishment might be fun.
Sebastian walks toward the kitchen, but Kurt doesn't get up. Sebastian stops behind Kurt's chair, waiting to be told what to do. His hands twitch as they hang at his sides, itching to rest on Kurt's shoulders, to massage his neck, to run his fingers through wet, purple-tinted chestnut hair.
"No, no, preppy," Kurt says, taking another drag and blowing the smoke through pursed lips, "I need you in front of me so I can get a good look at you."
Sebastian swallows involuntarily, but if Kurt wants to look, Sebastian will let him look. He has nothing to be ashamed of.
He should tell that to the butterflies duking it out in his stomach because they don't seem to have gotten the memo.
Sebastian steps in front of Kurt, preparing for an inspection, but Kurt doesn't look at him right away. He sucks on what's left of his clove, then leans his head back with his eyes closed and blows a breath of smoke into the air. Sebastian can see his face, his neck, and his shoulders better at this angle. Kurt's face is clean of all his makeup except for a thin line of black beneath his eyes. It's not over the top the way he usually wears it. In fact, it's sensual and appealing, a simple decoration to emphasize a masterpiece. Sebastian has never really liked the new trend of 'guy-liner' but Kurt wears it well, especially in small amounts like this.
Freckles sprinkle across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks, a detail usually hidden by the foundation he wears. All his piercings are still in place, though with smaller, more subtle rings filling in the holes. The flock of blackbirds tattooed on his neck, disappearing down into his shirt, are more vibrant against his skin in this light. Correction – the flock of birds fly up onto his neck from somewhere beneath his shirt, their origin a secret…for now. But Sebastian can see new tattoos he hadn't noticed before – a treble clef and a bass clef intertwined on his neck below his right ear, a star on his left exposed shoulder, a pair of intricately designed Victorian-style sewing shears on his right forearm that had been covered by his bracer before.
Kurt crushes out the butt of his cigarette in an ashtray on the table. When Sebastian's eyes travel back to meet Kurt's, he looks casually amused.
"Do you like what you see?" he asks.
Sebastian takes a step back and averts his eyes, biting his lips together to keep his mouth shut.
"Awww," Kurt coos, sitting up in his seat, "look how hard preppy is trying to be obedient. Such a good boy."
Sebastian wants to preen beneath Kurt's praise, but now Kurt's eyes are examining him, so close to his abs and his half-hard cock that Sebastian has to clamp his teeth down on his tongue so as not to become fully aroused. He remembers some of the talk he heard around the club when he sat at Kurt's feet, how subs were scolded for becoming aroused without permission. He still doesn't know a lot of what's expected of him. He remembers Kurt's rules so far, but are there more? Is there something he should inherently know? Was there a guidebook he should have read or something? It hadn't even dawned on him to Google anything about the BDSM lifestyle while he was playing Mr. Big Shot by biding his time and acting aloof. But one thing he remembers from his time at the club (time that wasn't spent at the receiving end of Kurt's rose flogger) was another conversation a new sub was having with her dom.
It was a conversation about trust, about the sub trusting her dom, and their need for communication.
Sebastian knows that he trusts Kurt. Maybe it's bred from fascination and a little from obsession, but he trusts him.
Sebastian hears the chair Kurt sits in creak as he leans over, and then he feels hands start to feel him up, starting at his ankles. Long fingers walk their way up his calves, and he feels his body shudder.
"Since you've agreed to submit to me, that makes your body mine," Kurt says, speaking inches from Sebastian's skin, "which means I get to do what I want to do…within limits." Kurt's hands wedge between Sebastian's thighs and part his legs wider, traveling up into between. Sebastian looks up to the ceiling, counting the pots and pans while Kurt continues his examination, moving aside his balls and looking for…what? Sebastian hasn't the foggiest idea, and he's not about to ask. The prospects are humiliating to consider. Is Kurt making sure that he's clean? What else could he be doing?
"You have limits and I have limits," Kurt explains, "and I'll discuss those limits with you, but for now, let's work on getting you used to me touching you."
Kurt stands from his chair and his touches become less clinical, though there is still the occasional pinch or pull – a tweak of Sebastian's nipple here, a tug of his hair there. Sebastian stands still with his eyes trained to the floor and yields to it all. Fingertips glide along his muscles, smooth over his skin, weave up and through the damp strands of his hair, brushing and combing it aside and out of Sebastian's face.
"There," Kurt hums appreciatively, "it looks so much better without all that shit you put in it to make it stand up straight."
Sebastian nearly balks – a cry of, "What about you?" ready to pass his lips, but he holds his tongue, even though it's becoming more painful than ever to do so. Sebastian doesn't realize he's shaking with his need to speak until Kurt laughs.
"Good boy," he mutters again, and Sebastian knows he was being baited.
Kurt walks around him. He runs a hand back up into his hair, grabs a fistful, and yanks his head back, with Sebastian fighting the urge to hiss at the sting. Kurt rakes his nails down Sebastian's back until he reaches his hips. Here he pauses. He puts one hand on each hip and squeezes hard.
"I need to have you bent over," Kurt says, putting his hands to Sebastian's shoulders and pushing him forward. Sebastian puts his arms out and braces himself against the wood table, bending over at the waist.
"Nope." Kurt takes a moment to move his ashtray to the kitchen counter, then returns to his sub. "I mean all the way, preppy." He puts a hand between Sebastian's shoulder blades and pushes down, Sebastian leaning forward until his top half lies on the surface, his head resting cheek down on the wood.
"Now, here comes the tricky part," Kurt says, rounding to the leg closest to Sebastian's right arm. "I'm going to tie you up. I'm going to tie your hands behind your back, and your legs to my chairs. Is there anything you need to tell me before we begin?"
Sebastian takes a deep breath, thinking about objecting, but then he shakes his head.
This is what he wants. This is why he's here. This is how he gets to have Kurt.
This is what he's willing to do.
Kurt works quickly, wrapping the rope on the right side of the table to Sebastian's left wrist behind his back, and then moving to the rope on the left side and tying it around his right wrist. Then he ties the ends together. He tugs on the ropes sharply, tightening them around Sebastian's wrists. This time Sebastian does hiss, but Kurt lets it slide.
Kurt circles back around the table to Sebastian's legs, out of Sebastian's line of sight. Sebastian hears the chairs scrape across the floor, feels hands lift his legs one at a time, tying him down from ankle to knee to the back of the chair with his foot flat on the seat. In this way his legs are spread wide with his cock dangling over the edge.
There are no reflective surfaces nearby. He can't see a single piece of himself without craning his head backward like a corkscrew. It's not uncomfortable so much as it's…awkward, and just like that night at the club, he feels exposed, vulnerable. It's not something he's used to.
Kurt runs a hand down Sebastian's back, fingers tracing along the path of his spine, running through the crack of his ass, and back up to his neck. "You remember the safe word right? Nod if you do."
Sebastian nods as best he can, trying to get a glimpse of Kurt, needing to see the expression on his dom's face. Sebastian imagines that he looks pretty ridiculous spread open and tied down. Is this a joke? Is Kurt standing behind him, laughing at him? His fingers fidget uneasily and he tries to readjust his legs.
"You're uncomfortable like this, aren't you?" Kurt says, his voice calm without a hint of teasing. Kurt continues to touch him, massaging his thighs, his hips, his ass, making his whole body ache with need despite his self-consciousness. Sebastian doesn't know if Kurt's question is direct or rhetorical, so he nods again.
"You probably won't believe me when I tell you this, but you look exquisite like this, preppy."
Sebastian doesn't know how to read the tone in Kurt's voice but that doesn't stop him from blushing. He turns his head and rests his forehead on the wood, staring down into the knots and the grains, following the random pattern that dips and spirals in front of his eyes, needing to distract himself to keep the blush from spreading.
"Let me ask you this," Kurt says, stepping up between Sebastian's legs, continuing to touch, to feel, to massage, "You probably do something hoity-toity at that fancy school of yours like play polo, or croquet?"
Sebastian nods, his entire body quivering when Kurt's fingers touch his skin again, this time focusing on his ass, tracing patterns over his sensitive inner thighs, rubbing firmly on the skin beneath his balls. Sebastian shuts his eyes tight, struggling with his body's natural response to writhe with the pleasure of Kurt's touch.
"What do you do, preppy?" Kurt asks in a commanding voice. "Tell me."
"I…mmm…I play lacrosse…m-master," Sebastian manages without tripping up too badly.
"Lacrosse," Kurt repeats, sounding genuinely impressed. "Lacrosse is a difficult game. Lots of running. Lots of…endurance."
Kurt brings a hand down hard on Sebastian's ass, sending ripples over his skin, and every muscle in his body quakes.
Kurt's hands disappear and Sebastian desperately wants to know what he's doing. It's almost torture not to be able to see, but he doesn't try to look back over his shoulder again. Trust. He has to remember trust. He trusts Kurt.
But God is he curious as hell.
He hears Kurt move, rustling with something that sounds like fabric, and then a triumphant, "Aha!"
The snap of a flip-top bottle makes Sebastian's fidgeting stop. Sebastian would bet anything the bottle in Kurt's hands is lube. When Kurt's hands return to his body, slick and smooth from the lube, it's not where he expects.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you like this?" Kurt asks, using both hands to massage Sebastian's shoulders, kneading the tension from his muscles, helping him relax piece by piece as he works his way down Sebastian's back. "I see your strong muscles, all the hard work you put into your body, and it's such a tremendous turn on."
Kurt rounds the table so that he can face Sebastian, so that Sebastian can catch a glimpse of the bulge growing in Kurt's skin-tight jeans.
"Do you see that, preppy?" Kurt asks, his voice a delicious whisper in Sebastian's ears. Sebastian would nod in response, but he's too stunned by the beauty that is Kurt's growing erection inches from his face. Kurt grabs a fistful of Sebastian's hair and steps closer, grinding his cock against Sebastian's cheek. "Do you feel that?" Kurt's voice cracks a little, just enough to send sparks surging all throughout Sebastian's body. "That's you, preppy. You and your gorgeous body tied to my table do that to me."
Sebastian takes a deep breath, seeking out the scent of this body crushed so close to his skin, discovering hints of cloves and denim and sweet vanilla. Kurt ruts against Sebastian's face, so close to his mouth that Sebastian places open-mouth kisses to his hip in an effort to seek out that elusive prize beckoning him to put his mouth around it.
"Do you want that?" Kurt teases, bringing his cock closer, watching Sebastian strain to reach it, whimpering when his teeth barely scrape Kurt's jeans. "I want you to have it, preppy. I do, but not like this…not yet."
Kurt releases his grip on Sebastian's hair and walks away. Sebastian cools his temper, but knowing that Kurt is hard because of him is maddening. He tugs at the ropes around his wrist one last time, but it's a fruitless effort. The more he wrestles with the ropes, the tighter they become until he can feel them cut into his skin, but the pain is no longer a deterrent. He wants to get closer to his goal.
He hears Kurt's muffled footsteps stop behind him once again, and Kurt chuckles, dark and thick, low in his throat, a rumble of his own need and carefully caged lust – better caged than Sebastian, who is riled up and ready to rip the wood table in two.
"I think that my little boy is ready to be milked," Kurt says, "but I can't get started until he's very, very quiet and very, very still."
It takes a moment for Sebastian to register that Kurt is talking about him, but once he does, he lies still and holds his breath to keep from making a sound.
But, milking?
"That's a good boy…"
Sebastian hears another flick of the unseen bottle, hears a squish as Kurt squeezes the thin liquid into his hands. Sebastian's body tenses, waiting for whatever is going to happen to happen already.
Kurt wraps his long, strong fingers around Sebastian's hard cock and starts to move his hand slowly. With his other hand, he fondles his balls, twisting slowly.
Sebastian's whole body is at war. It wants to move, to squirm, to arch with pleasure, but he can't. He's forbidden. He lets that command ground him and tries not to move while inside he's screaming to explode.
His cock twitches in Kurt's hand and Kurt tuts.
"Nope," Kurt says, moving his slick hand slower, "no cumming till I say so, preppy. I need you to focus on staying quiet and keeping still."
Kurt should have asked him to stop breathing and blinking – it would have been a less impossible task to accomplish.
When Kurt first mentioned milking Sebastian, Sebastian had absolutely no idea what Kurt could have meant, and the pictures it evoked were both ridiculous and anatomically impossible. Had Sebastian only known about this, he would have been begging for it from the first moment he ever let another boy lay a hand on him.
Kurt knows just how to touch him, how much pressure, just where to twist. Unable to move, Sebastian feels himself dissolve into the tabletop. Kurt edges him closer and closer until, without meaning to, he moans.
"Oh, God…"
The second the words slip past Sebastian's lips, he freezes. Kurt stops what he's doing and pulls away from the table
"I feel like ice-cream, preppy. Would you like some?"
Sebastian leans his forehead onto the tabletop, hiding his face and panting against the wood. He's so close, so close to cumming, so close that anything will push him to the brink.
Kurt comes back with a pint of ice-cream and a spoon.
"You don't have any nut allergies, do you?" Kurt asks, casually pulling up a chair and taking the top off the ice-cream. "Because Pecan Praline Salted Caramel is my fave, so it's the only flavor I have in the house."
Kurt looks at Sebastian and waits patiently for his sub to turn his head and look at him, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from being bitten.
Kurt raises an eyebrow.
"Nuts?" he says. "You allergic?"
Sebastian looks aghast by the question, but he shakes his head.
"Perfect!" Kurt rakes his spoon across the top of the ice-cream, "because this stuff is way too good not to share."
Sebastian watches Kurt take the first spoonful for himself, slipping it past his lips and sucking it off the spoon.
"Mmm," he hums, closing his eyes as he pulls the spoon out, licked completely clean. "That's sooo good."
Kurt spoons up some more, but this time he offers it to Sebastian. Sebastian parts his lips slowly, brow furrowed, puzzled by Kurt's complete change in demeanor. Kurt feeds him the ice-cream, waiting with the spoon in Sebastian's mouth until he's satisfied that Sebastian must have eaten it all, and then pulls the spoon away.
The flavor of the ice-cream doesn't completely hit Sebastian right away, but when it does he realizes that Kurt was absolutely correct.
This is possibly the greatest ice-cream in existence.
His temporary state of need and aching desire forgotten for the moment, he moans softly around the mouthful melting on his tongue.
"I know, right?" Kurt asks, spooning up another bite for himself.
Kurt feeds Sebastian, back and forth, spoonful after spoonful, with no other conversation passing between them except the occasional mumble of appreciation. The pint of ice-cream is nearly gone when Kurt's wicked grin finally returns.
"There, there," Kurt says, putting the lid back on the container. "I think that's enough of a break for now, don't you? I wouldn't want you to get sick."
Kurt stands and puts the ice-cream back in the freezer. Sebastian can hear him pad across the floor, and when he opens and closes the freezer door. Kurt stays out of his sight and is back behind Sebastian before he realizes it.
"Now we get to start at the beginning," Kurt says, opening the bottle of lube and squirting more in his hands. "And maybe my little pet has learned to stay still and keep his mouth shut?"
It's a question, but Sebastian doesn't dare answer it. His erection has deflated a bit, but the second Kurt's hands, carrying the chill of the ice-cream, wrap back around his cock, his hard-on returns with a vengeance. Sebastian grits his teeth, grinding them together in his effort not to move.
"That's better," Kurt coos, his hand moving slowly, his other hand fondling, both moving alternately. "I like having you here to play with. I like how hard you're trying to stay still. I need to find a way to reward you for all of your obedience."
Sebastian is sure that means Kurt will let him cum. He's positive of it. How much longer can he possibly go? He's never done anything like this before, never been teased so mercilessly, and as much as he wants it to continue, he's not sure that he can last as long as Kurt thinks he will.
Kurt's hands disappear.
He hears the sound of more lube being squeezed from the bottle.
Sebastian, lying bound to the table, has become a single, coiled spring ready to explode and shoot across the room at the slightest touch.
Kurt's slick hands return, roughly kneading the skin of Sebastian's ass. A single finger runs up and down along his crack, brushing over his entrance, and Sebastian's wrists twist, tightening the ropes.
"You have such a beautiful hole," Kurt comments. "I bet you are so tight, aren't you?"
His hand ghosts over Sebastian's cock - close enough so that he can feel Kurt's heat, but not the friction from his skin.
"God, you're so close," Kurt says, moaning as if he can feel Sebastian from the inside, the heat curling in his stomach, the tension in his legs. "I could just touch you until you came."
Kurt grabs Sebastian's hips and pulls him flush against his hard cock straining in his jeans.
"I want this," Kurt growls, bringing his hand down on Sebastian's ass, leaving a bright red handprint. Sebastian fights to keep still and not pull on the ropes that bind him to the table, "so I'm going to take it…"
Sebastian hears the sound of Kurt unzipping his pants, quickly, impatiently, and every inch of his exposed skin flushes with pure heat.
"I'm going to take it," Kurt continues, sucking a finger into his mouth and then brushing it over Sebastian's entrance, "and you're going to let me."
Sebastian sucks in a breath.
Sebastian fucked, he didn't get fucked. He let a boy do that to him once - a boy he was stupid enough to believe he was in love with. Sebastian swore from the day he caught that boy cheating on him with a girl that he would never fall into that trap again.
But all that aside, he has never wanted a cock in his ass so much in his life.
Then there's the thought of being entered that suddenly strikes him like a hammer to the brain. Sebastian knows himself. He knows how he behaves when he enters a new ass…and he's not always gentle about it. Kurt's a dom. His world is different. Power, control – these words have different meanings and some of those definitions go hand-in-hand with pain. Sebastian visualizes Kurt slamming into him while he tries to hold back his screams, and a cold wave of panic takes hold.
Sebastian's body trembles while Kurt's finger circles his entrance.
"You're shaking," Kurt says. "My beautiful alpha male isn't nervous, is he?"
The safe word hangs off the tip of Sebastian's tongue – butterfly. All he has to do is give it voice and let it take flight. He can hear himself saying it over and over in his head - Butterfly! Butterfly!
Kurt's hand - the hand not teasing Sebastian - starts massaging the small of Sebastian's back.
"Shhh," Kurt says, "I promise, preppy, I'm not going to hurt you. I'll take it really easy."
His finger slips inside, breaching past the tight ring of muscle that's been tensing with the thought of Kurt fucking him, and Sebastian sees stars.
Not bad stars. Not the kind of stars that accompany tremendous agony.
These stars are bright and shimmer with every pass of Kurt's finger. Kurt moves in and out of his body slowly and Sebastian melts.
"That's my boy," Kurt hums, deftly slipping in another finger. It stings slightly, no more than the burn on his hand from the clove cigarette. Sebastian finds himself chasing Kurt's fingers, pushing back to follow them as they leave his body. "You're so anxious. You want me to fill you up, don't you?"
Sebastian doesn't answer, doesn't whimper, and Kurt continues, speaking into the silence.
"I know you do, ever since I had you bent over the pew at my club. I could tell you wanted me, and I don't mind admitting I wanted you, too. Your gorgeous ass glowing red from being spanked…"
Kurt's voice wavers, his fingers quickening their pace in and out, in and out, in and out.
Then the fingers disappear and there's more rustling – then a tear.
Sebastian has opened plenty of condom wrappers. He knows the telltale sound of one being torn open.
Something blunt and large pushes against his ass, and he bites his lip.
Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly, butterfly…
The urge to say it dims with every touch of Kurt's cock and his fingers, with the way he works his hole open slowly, how he gently pushes in, an inch at a time, pulling back out and then sliding back in. There's no need to rush, no power play.
Kurt's not going to hurt him.
Kurt already seems to know how to read the signals of Sebastian's body, stopping when Sebastian's legs tense up, when his back arches or his wrists pull tight on the ropes. He shushes and massages, murmurs lightly, "Good boy…good boy…" until he enters Sebastian completely, and stops to admire the view of their skin flush together, of his cock deep in Sebastian's ass, of the beautiful boy tied to his table, the one he's dying to give pleasure to.
"There, preppy," he mumbles with a sigh, "how does that feel?"
Speechless, Sebastian tries to come up with something, anything, that sounds even mildly intelligent, but he's not sure there's enough blood in his brain available to make that happen. He'll settle for something remotely coherent, but he can't seem to come up with that either.
"It's alright," Kurt says, starting with small, controlled thrusts, "we have all night. Take your time."
Sebastian realizes that Kurt is willing to do this until Sebastian comes up with an answer, which would be fine, but it's not enough. It's nowhere near enough. He wants more. He decides to open his mouth and say the first thing that enters his mind.
"I…oh, God…I…"
He fails incredibly.
Kurt laughs, pulling out further and then pushing back in harder.
"Try again," he says.
"Uh…I…fuck…"
Kurt continues with the shallow movements and God, they feel so good, so intense and relaxing at the same time - why can't Sebastian just say it? Every slight snap of Kurt's hips siphons away all of Sebastian's rational thinking until every word he knows is stolen from his lips, rendering his expensive education utterly useless.
"Why don't we start out small," Kurt says, pulling out almost to his limit and pushing back in with one, long, smooth movement, "does this feel good, preppy?"
A question. An easy question. This he can answer.
"Yes, master," Sebastian moans and Kurt chuckles again.
"Do you want me to continue?" Kurt says, pushing harder and this time, finding something hidden, something new that makes Sebastian's mind reel with a rush of sensations he's never experienced before. It makes his skin tingle and his cock ache. It makes him restless and eager to move.
"Yes, master," he whimpers, rolling his wrists in their ropes, his legs shaking so hard the chairs rattle against the floor.
"Did you like that?" Kurt says quietly, and Sebastian can tell Kurt is fighting to hold himself together, maybe as much as Sebastian is. He pulls out and pushes back in, hitting that same spot again, making Sebastian's toes curl.
"Yes, master," Sebastian whimpers louder this time.
"Should I keep doing that?" Kurt doesn't wait for an answer. He assaults that same spot over and over, and this time Sebastian can't help struggling against the ropes, unable to stay still any longer.
"Yes, master," Sebastian mumbles, trying to push back against Kurt's hips, but he has pulled the ropes to their farthest point.
"Sebastian…" Kurt murmurs through trembling lips, "oh, Sebastian…talk to me, Sebastian…please…"
"Y-yes…master…"
The sound of Kurt moaning is one thing, the sound of him saying please is another, but Sebastian's name on Kurt's lips is his unexpected weakness. It takes him from barely holding on to a state of extreme urgency. He's going to cum. He has to. His body can't contain itself, no matter what he wants or what Kurt commands. He's fighting a losing battle, and Kurt's next words make it insurmountably worse.
"Kurt," his dom chokes out. "Call me Kurt."
"K-Kurt…" Sebastian is almost reluctant to say it. It doesn't seem right, but it's what Kurt wants and the reaction is immediate.
Kurt pounds into Sebastian faster at the sound of his name.
"Kurt!" Sebastian whines, feeling heat warp through his body over and over again. "Oh, God, Kurt!"
"Do you want to cum, preppy?" Kurt asks. It's a question, not a taunt. Kurt's not looking to prolong Sebastian's agony any longer. He's looking to relieve his own.
"Yes, Kurt," Sebastian says, hoping he's still allowed, for a little while longer, to call him that. "Please, Kurt."
Kurt's fingers wrap around Sebastian's cock again and he knows he's done. As much as he tries, he has no control. He's reached that point where his body doesn't give a flying fuck what he wants, it's just going to do. He cums hard, even as he strains to bide his orgasm. There's nothing in the world that can stop it now.
"Good boy," Kurt mutters over and over, "good boy…good boy…"
Kurt pulls in close, driving himself deep into Sebastian's body, his hips flush against Sebastian's ass, letting his convulsing body drive itself into him over and over, relinquishing control. Kurt grunts and groans - Sebastian feels the vibrations travel from Kurt's body to his. Sebastian shakes, his teeth chattering, and he feels weak.
He's not sure if he'll be able to make his legs work after this.
"Oh, Sebastian," Kurt moans as he drops down over Sebastian's back. "Dear Lord, your body is so tight…so amazing."
Sebastian smiles but doesn't say a word. It's not in him to be cocky at this moment, bathing in Kurt's afterglow, when normally he would say something obnoxious.
Sebastian doesn't want to kill the mood.
"Well," Kurt laughs against Sebastian's shoulder, "do you think you can walk, preppy, or should we sleep here all night?"
"I…I don't…" Sebastian exhales quickly, finding it as hard, if not harder, to put together a coherent sentence with Kurt pressed against him as it was with Kurt pounding into him.
"That was a rhetorical question," Kurt says, placing a kiss to Sebastian's shoulder blade and pushing off his body. "I'm pretty sure you can't walk. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed."
Sebastian hears Kurt take off the condom and toss it away, and when he returns he carefully unties the ropes – his wrists first, one at a time, rubbing down Sebastian's arms to get the blood flowing again. His legs receive a similar treatment - each one unwrapped and massaged, then placed flat on the floor so Sebastian can find his balance. Sebastian tries to stand but Kurt puts a hand to his shoulder – not pushing him down, but still keeping him in place.
"Stay here a moment. Let the blood circulate. I'll be right back."
Kurt shuffles off and this time Sebastian turns his head and watches Kurt make his way to the bathroom. At some point he must have taken off his shirt and kicked off his jeans because he saunters down the hallway gloriously naked, and again Sebastian becomes speechless. Kurt looks so comfortable in his skin, and he has every right to. This dom is trim and muscular, obviously investing quite a bit of time and effort into keeping himself fit.
Now Sebastian can see where the flock of blackbirds comes from. They originate from a massive tree tattoo. Its roots extend across his hips and the trunk grows almost completely up the length of Kurt's spine, with the blackbirds flying up from the branches in a mass exodus. On the back of Kurt's neck, right at the nape, is a symbol that Sebastian can't see clear enough to identify. Apart from those, there are rose vines growing down the backs of both his legs, so well-drawn that they almost look real - from the soft, curling petals and twining stems, to the sharp thorns.
Insanely long and sharp looking thorns.
Another piece of the puzzle that is Kurt.
Sebastian turns his head when he hears Kurt return, not sure if his dom would appreciate him staring. He feels warm water trickle over his skin and a wet wash cloth wiping him down.
"There you are," Kurt says, following up with a dry wash cloth afterward. "Now I don't think you'll stain my satin sheets."
Kurt helps Sebastian stand, tugging him up by his arms, draping one of Sebastian's arms across his shoulders. Kurt helps Sebastian limp along. Sebastian keeps his head bowed, not that he has much of a choice. His neck seems done with the idea of supporting his head.
"Do you need to use the bathroom?" Kurt asks as they approach the first door.
Sebastian shakes his head and they trundle past together.
There's another door to their left and two on their right, but Kurt leads Sebastian to the last door at the far end of the hallway. He turns the knob and pushes it open, leading Sebastian inside.
Sebastian's eyes lift enough to see into the dimly lit room.
This is definitely more like what Sebastian originally had in mind.
This room seems to be right out of Kurt's club – dark wood floors, dark wood furniture, violet painted walls, heavy velvet black-out curtains covering the windows, abstract framed art hanging on the walls, and a multitude of whips/cuffs/toys laid out on every conceivable surface. In the center of the room sits a large, four-poster bed with violet sheets and a matching comforter painstakingly embroidered with beads in an intricate Celtic pattern.
Kurt pulls the comforter back and sits Sebastian on the bed, helping him swing his still quaking legs up onto the mattress. He turns to a dresser beside the bed and opens the top drawer, rummaging through the contents and pulling out a small bottle – a gold bottle with the word Dior written across the side. He shows the bottle to Sebastian.
"This will help those burn marks on your wrists," Kurt explains, reaching out and taking Sebastian's left hand first. Sebastian watches Kurt tend to his wounds, his touch soft and soothing, such a stark contrast to the man who fucked him on his kitchen table moments before, a man covered in thorns but also roses and musical symbols and blackbirds trying to break free. Kurt treats both wrists and puts the bottle back in its hiding place. He pulls out what looks like a silk scarf and starts wrapping it around Sebastian's wrists, tying the two together.
Sebastian raises an eyebrow and Kurt laughs.
"I have a rule," Kurt says simply, "no one unbound in my bed."
When Sebastian seamlessly raises the other eyebrow, Kurt laughs louder.
"And believe it or not, covering the burns will help them heal faster with that lotion on them."
Sebastian is too tired to argue. He's too tired to shake his head. He's too tired to do much of anything but watch Kurt. There are other tattoos on his chest but Sebastian doesn't take the time to admire them. He's too focused on Kurt's face as Kurt turns his eyes to Sebastian lying in his bed. Kurt's blue eyes travel up Sebastian's body, taking his time, studying him, memorizing him, trying to decide if he likes him this way. Kurt's brow furrows. His eyes become distant, as if he's replaying a scene in his head. One moment he looks vaguely angry, and another moment his lips curl at the corner.
He sits up, apparently content with his decision.
"Most of my personal subs, when I have one, sleep on the floor by the bed when they've been good little doggies…" He puts a hand to Sebastian's cheek and trails it down his face, tracing a path over muscles and skin, skimming over his neck and down his chest, stopping above his heart, "but I kind of like you the way you are."
Kurt covers him with the sheet on his bed, tucking him in carefully, taking more time than the task needs. Then he lies down beside Sebastian and rests his head on his chest, humming quietly as he drifts almost immediately off to sleep.
There Sebastian lays, exhausted, sated, in this surreal place with this enigma of a man sleeping beside him. Sleeping with his wrists bound might be uncomfortable, but it's worth it to stay on the bed with Kurt's head on his chest, curled up asleep and purring like a contented cat.