A/N: Sebastian wants to add something to his list of limits that he'd like to try, something that he hopes will show his devotion on a much deeper level.
Warning for mention of underage drinking, minor blood play, mention of cutting (Kurt cutting a word into Sebastian's leg with a razor), and the sensation of a sub briefly retreating into sub space. Nothing graphic, romantic at the end.
Kurt sits with Sebastian's bare leg lying across his lap, eyes scrutinizing his sub's face, making positively sure that he understands exactly what it is he's asking for.
Sebastian - naked, with his cock and balls in a ring, buzzed off of sex, a spanking, and a glass of Courvoisier - huffs impatiently. He doesn't like waiting. He never has.
And besides, the anticipation is killing him.
"Oh, God!" Sebastian whines in a voice heavy with exhaustion. "Do it already. Please?"
Kurt jerks back, raises a scolding brow, and Sebastian withers. Probably not best to anger the man with the razor blade in his hand.
"Uh…sorry," Sebastian says, his buzz nearly evaporating with a blink of Kurt's severe blue eyes. "I am so sorry. I mean, please, Master? Please? You said that I could add things to my list of limits whenever I wanted."
"I did," Kurt says, relaxing against his headboard and twiddling the small, silver blade between his fingers. "But you really want to add this?" Kurt looks at the skin of Sebastian's thigh, tan and flawless, stretched out in front of him. He loves any opportunity to mark his sub up, to stake his claim, but this seems a little extreme for a new sub. Even though Kurt's been dominating Sebastian pretty much every weekend since they met, and now a few nights during the week, Kurt still sees Sebastian as a newbie. His newbie, and Kurt's very protective of him.
Kurt has no intention of damaging him.
"I do, Master," Sebastian says with a determined nod.
"Do you want to tell me why?" Kurt asks, clamping a hand down on Sebastian's knee, but not making a move to cut.
"I saw a few people do it down at the club, Master," Sebastian says.
"A-ha." Kurt traces random shapes on the skin of Sebastian's inner thigh, digging in with the very corner of his nail, then scratching lightly with the blunt edge, the dichotomy making blood flood from Sebastian's dizzy head to his cock, flushing it pink.
"A-and…and I've become so attached to your Wartenberg wheel, I thought" - Another hard scratch and Sebastian swallows, knowing that Kurt's prepping him, giving him a taste – "this could be the next step."
"For some people it is," Kurt says, watching Sebastian react to his touch, the throaty gasps as he sucks in a breath; his scooting down the bed, moving closer in the hopes that his Dom will notice how his cock has begun to harden and bob when Kurt pushes his nails in.
"And if someone sees? The boys in the locker room? A coach? A teacher? Your folks?" It's a question Kurt has started to ask more and more, with a thick note of worry underneath.
"What the fuck do I care who sees, Master?" Sebastian asks, trying to sound convincing, though it's becoming exhausting always having to convince his Dom. But there's something about Kurt's concern that's endearing. Sebastian doesn't know if it would be quite the same being Kurt's sub without it…especially now. "It's my body. My decision. I'm a big boy."
"Yes, you are," Kurt purrs, eyes sliding down Sebastian's body to his cock, growing larger, leaking on his abs. Kurt drives his nails in the soft skin behind Sebastian's thigh. Sebastian moans, head rolling from shoulder to shoulder. His cock twitches, bucks up, and that seems to make Kurt's decision for him.
"Alright," he says, shrugging one shoulder. "If that's what you want. But you know what to say to make it stop."
"I do, Master," Sebastian says, mouthing the word out of Kurt's line of sight without saying it –butterfly. His safeword. Though if Kurt keeps doing what he's doing with his nails, moving higher and higher up his leg to the sensitive skin just below his balls, Sebastian won't be able to do anything but moan.
Kurt doesn't ease into it, though he rarely does anymore. He puts the sharp point of the blade to Sebastian's skin and makes a cut. The slice stings, shocks Sebastian into hissing. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, but it's not an unbearable pain. It would have been unbearable, Sebastian realizes, if Kurt had turned him down. Sebastian had seen the Doms at Kurt's club do this, watched their subs obediently submit. Being marked up this way seemed like a much more extreme show of devotion, of trust, than just being bitten and scratched, even caned - a drastic, physical representation of what it means to be claimed.
If Kurt had said he didn't want this, after everything they'd done together, it would have taken something away from their relationship, in Sebastian's eyes anyway. Sebastian knows the mark will heal eventually, but he hopes, that of all the marks Kurt's put on his skin, the bites and the scratches, the rug and cuff burns, this will last that little bit longer.
There's a morbid sensuality to it, the smooth blade against his skin, but only held by Kurt's hand, using his skill. The same skill that put those scars underneath Kurt's tattoos. That connection doesn't only make Sebastian infinitely hard, it hits him in the gut, makes him sentimentally sick. The idea of Kurt cutting into him kind of turns his stomach, but if he doesn't focus on what's happening and simply zeroes in on the sting, it pulls him from his head, helps him leave his body, delivers him to a place that transforms him into a sexually submissive creature at Kurt's command while enfolding his mind in a place of safety.
But before he gets there entirely, Kurt hits a soft spot, and Sebastian's leg starts to shake.
"How you doin' there, preppy?" Kurt asks, letting up until Sebastian can answer.
"Green, Master," Sebastian says, close to a whisper, somewhere on the scale of arousal between a sigh and a gasp, but only because he's trying not to moan, trying not to cum, which seems unsanitary with a wound opened up within firing range.
"Good," Kurt says. "Because I'm almost done…there." Kurt pulls the blade away. He wipes it with a tissue, wraps it carefully, and sets it aside. "What do you think of that, preppy?"
Sebastian has no idea what Kurt could have carved into his thigh. It took him longer than Sebastian expected, but then again, Kurt is a perfectionist. From Sebastian's limited experience, the way he's seen couples play at the club, the Doms write words like slut, bitch, or whore. Other Doms like to draw complicated geometric pictures, symbols, or flowers. Sebastian's kind of hoping for the latter, though he'll submit to whatever his Dom chooses for him.
He's curious what his Dom thinks of him, how he'd want other Doms and subs to see him.
Sebastian opens his eyes and blinks down at the bloody mark on his leg. It's a word – three words actually. In script Sebastian didn't know could be so neat using a razor blade, Kurt has written a sentence.
You are mine.
"Oh, God," Sebastian mutters with his jaw hanging open slightly.
"You don't like it, preppy?" Kurt says with a smirk, and a laugh that sounds more hurt than insulted. "Well, too bad. You asked for it. You wanted to be cut up. You…"
For the first time in their relationship, as Dom and sub, as quasi-sort-of-unexpressed-recent boyfriends, Sebastian silences Kurt with a kiss.
A kiss that becomes more.
A kiss that turns into Sebastian pushing Kurt back against the bed, crawling over his body, claiming something he's not entirely sure is his to claim.
But Kurt lets Sebastian have it, because somewhere, deep down in his heart, Kurt belongs to Sebastian, too.