After Kurt realizes just how hot it is to have sex with his sub when his sub is cold, he starts to crave it. He takes it a step further by lowering Sebastian's temperature ... on one particular part of his body.

Warning for anal hooks, cold play, testicle cuffs, and recreational Viagra use. Written for the Bitchmas (on Tumblr) prompt 'icicle' with and extra helping of 'hook'.

"Keep counting, preppy."

"15 … 16 … 17 …"

"I can't hear you, preppy." Kurt peeks into the bedroom to check Sebastian's progress. There he is, right where Kurt left him, kneeling on the floor, arms tied in a gauntlet from his wrists to his biceps behind his back, his cock and balls bathing in a squat, plastic bowl of fresh, evening snow.

Head bowed, Sebastian doesn't see Kurt checking in on him. That's the way Kurt wants it. He needs to know that his boy is doing what he's supposed to when he thinks no one is watching.

And he is. From the indents in the snow to the masking tape marks on the floor, where his knees rest dead center, Kurt knows that Sebastian hasn't moved an inch. Kurt couldn't be prouder.

He's not going to mention it though. No need to let it go to Sebastian's head, make the little prick more conceited than he is.

Sebastian pinches trembling lips together and starts up again where he left off.

"18 … 19 … 20 …"

Kurt smiles. "Good boy."

He glances at the bowl of snow cradling Sebastian's junk and sucks in a sympathetic breath through his teeth. He wouldn't want to be where Sebastian is right now. Kurt runs hot, always has. In everything he is and everything he does, he's the definition of a hot-blooded animal. His favorite form of sensation play is heat. He revels in melted wax on his skin, the head of a match or the tip of a lit cigarette extinguished on his flesh. That spark of anticipation before the first touch that jumpstarts his heart, the initial burn on contact, the soothing ache after – those are but a few of Kurt's masochistic turn-ons.

Sebastian, on the other hand, seems to favor the cold. Or, at least, it doesn't bother him. It's been below forty outside lately. Kurt has been battling it by bundling up, layering Henleys and t-shirts over his tank tops, wearing thermals underneath his jeans. But his subby little showoff seems to have a thing about wearing just the thinnest jacket with no gloves, no scarf, and no hat, which means his skin is freezing cold when Kurt touches it, his hair wet with clinging snowflakes that drip down the collar of Kurt's shirts and roll down his spine.

At first, it was annoying as shit, and Kurt would punish Sebastian for coming to his house in that condition. (Also, secretly, for not taking better care of himself and courting pneumonia, but Kurt won't own up to that one.) But more and more, that contrast between Kurt's hot skin and Sebastian being cold is something that Kurt craves. That flash of electricity between them, that erotic chill when their bodies combine - Kurt needs more of it. What he's getting isn't enough. He needs to feel it everywhere – outside and inside.

"26 … 27 … 28 …"

"Keep counting, preppy. I need to hear you get to 50."

50? Fuck! Sebastian shifts only a hair above the bowl so Kurt won't notice. His thighs ache in this low kneel, legs spread wide. His cuffed balls, trying their hardest to retreat to the shelter of his body, but obstructed by a cruel ring of metal, have effectively gone numb.

"M-master?"

"Yes, preppy?"

"I d-don't know h-how you expect me to get h-hard after this, M-master."

"Oh, you'll get hard alright," Kurt mutters, a grin twitching his lips for his genius plan. "That's what that little blue pill you took was for."

Sebastian swallows reflexively. An uncomfortable flush climbs his throat. It's unnaturally warm, so it has to be a side-effect. Sebastian suspected that Kurt had given him Viagra when he walked through the door. Kurt didn't give him a second to think, just popped the pill in his mouth, and Sebastian, the obedient sub he is, swallowed it without question. Sebastian had only seen the pill for a second, but that was enough to make an educated guess.

He didn't ask. Better to remain ignorant and earn the chance to fuck his Master than to ask a stupid question and get left alone in the corner with a raging hard-on.

Kurt strolls into the room for an inspection. He's been walking around the bedroom naked, showing his sub everything he can't have. Occasionally he'd stop to shove his cock in Sebastian's mouth, get it wet, let him choke on it, then he'd leave him salivating. Kurt crouches in front of his sub where he can see Sebastian's lowered eyelids, watch his face for a reaction. He picks up a handful of snow from the bowl, wraps his fingers around his sub's cock, and starts to stroke. The heat from Kurt's hand, radiating through the melting snow, burns, but the mechanical stimulation, along with Kurt's strutting, helps the medication take effect. Cold balls or no, Sebastian starts to get hard in Kurt's hand.

"You d-do know that V-Viagra can make you hard for up to five hours. Right, Master?"

Kurt arches an eyebrow. "You say that like it's a bad thing." Kurt gives Sebastian's cock a few more quick strokes. He follows with a few hard slaps. When Sebastian's erection doesn't die, Kurt decides he's ready. "All right, preppy. Let's get you up."

Sebastian had found a groove in the floor, in the center of the taped 'x's, that kept him from sliding, but now that he has to leave it, his legs refuse to cooperate. Without his arms to aid him, he has to lurch upward using his hips, while Kurt sits on the bed and watches. With one foot flat, it's a struggle to put his weight on that leg, his knee locked, his glutes frozen. He manages to rise up awkwardly, unbending the other leg in the process, but that leg is no more helpful than the first one. He tries for one lunge up with all of his weight behind it, and almost flies face first into Kurt's bed frame.

"Now, now, now …" Kurt grabs Sebastian's arm and helps him forward "… I don't want you breaking your neck before I'm done with you."

"Th-that's v-very considerate of you, M-master," Sebastian says, his tone respectful,, but Kurt can smell the bullshit.

"Well, I put a lot of time and effort into this plan. It would be a shame to have that all go to waste."

Sebastian grimaces as Kurt maneuvers him, first his right leg, then his left, onto the mattress. He wobbles back and forth, crawling high on his knees. He spots the pulley above his head, threaded with rope. Sebastian had noticed Kurt climbing on the bed to fiddle with that pulley while he knelt on the floor. Seeing the rope dangling from it at about waist level makes his gut queasy.

"I know your knees must be killing you …" Kurt leaves Sebastian on the bed and goes to his closet "… so I'm gonna help you out." He comes back carrying one of his favorite silver hooks. It's a good thing Kurt demands that Sebastian keep his head bowed unless commanded otherwise. Sebastian can't even look at the thing. Every time he does, he imagines himself impaled on it like some sort of sports fish. Kurt lubes it up, the knob end about the size of a ping pong ball. He pulls out Sebastian's plug and hooks him, maneuvering the slick end into Sebastian's gape with an ease that comes from training.

The plug that Sebastian wears on the daily makes the ball on the end of that hook look like a Dum-Dum lollipop.

Kurt attaches the loop end of the hook to the hanging rope and knots it securely. Then he hoists the slack, pulling until the rope becomes taut, which forces Sebastian straight like a marionette, cramping legs or not. When he has Sebastian how he wants him, he ties off the tail on the bed frame.

Kurt plucks the rope like a guitar string, snickering when Sebastian groans in the back of his throat.

"Okey-dokey." Kurt climbs onto the bed himself, not using any care to keep the mattress from rocking. He smiles on the sly knowing that his sub is gritting his teeth with every bit of pressure Kurt places on the mattress, every shift and shake. "Let's get your rocks rolling, shall we? Don't need you heating up. I'll have to stick your dick back in that bowl."

This time, it's a gulp Kurt hears behind him, loud enough to make a sound.

Kurt preps himself with a dollop of lube on the frigid head of Sebastian's cock, teasing his hole open with it, stretching himself over it. There's a deeply satisfying pleasure to the sear that comes with the stretch. It's fulfilling to have it, to experience. Like the brand on Sebastian's shoulder, it marks Kurt. He gets to keep it. His muscle memory records it.

No one in his life will ever hurt him this same way again.

He slides himself down on Sebastian's cock, taking it fast so that Sebastian can't adjust to Kurt's heat.

Kurt wants what's cold for him to burn for his boy.

"God," Kurt moans, disregarding the puff of breath from Sebastian, his exhalation of pain. "It's like riding a fucking icicle!"

Keeping his ass still, Kurt slinks his upper body, cat-like, up the mattress. He curls his fingers into the fitted sheet and pulls, a shiver racing down his spine. "Jesus Christ."

"What do you think of that, Master?" Sebastian asks, sounding smug when he has no reason to be. Because what did he do, really, other than kneel on the floor with his dick in a bowl of snow for an hour?

But Sebastian wouldn't be Kurt's prince if he wasn't a smug little bastard. And besides, Kurt has to give credit where credit is due.

Sebastian did what he was told.

Kurt looks over his shoulder, a satisfied grin spreading without even a single thrust taken. "I think this is about to be the greatest five hours of my life."