After Kurt gets Sebastian home, it's time to start helping him heal.
But that's a difficult thing to do when you're kind of a mess yourself.
Warning for mention of assault, bruises pertaining to non-consensual violence, and thoughts of self-harm. Also warning for mention of Blaine and some Blaine wank - particularly what happened between Kurt and Blaine back when they were dating. If you can stomach it, please read it, as it's pertinent to Kurt's backstory. Otherwise, just stop reading at the bolded words and pick up again at the bolded words, and remember for later installments - Blaine bad xD
Follows A Dalton Boy Intervention
Kurt has wanted to drive a Porsche ever since he was introduced to one working part time at his father's auto shop. Flat 6, manual transmission, 300 horsepower, all-wheel drive, and in his all-time favorite car color.
Ink black.
Because of liability issues, sixteen-year-old and newly licensed Kurt Hummel wasn't allowed to even back it out of the bay.
But he could sit in the driver's seat while he polished the leather interior and daydream.
He did get another potential opportunity to drive one as an adult. The first time his club turned a profit, he took himself down to the closest Porsche dealership to celebrate its success. He was going to go for a test drive and finally get the feel of one. He'd wanted to give himself a goal to strive for, wanted to prove to himself that everything was going to be alright.
That he hadn't just survived, but that he could thrive.
Kurt Hummel belonged in the driver's seat of a Porsche. He knew that for a fact.
But he backed out at the last minute, old doubts cropping up to spoil his fun: What if his success was temporary? What if his club was only bringing in business because it was new and edgy? What if, when the thrill wore off, everything went belly up?
So he put his test drive on the back burner and let it simmer there, on hold until he knew for sure.
He didn't want to risk falling in love with something he might not be able to keep.
Sebastian has a gorgeous car – a truly exceptional piece of machinery. And it's not factory, either. It's a special edition, which makes it a little more painful that it's being driven around Ohio by a boy who can't legally drink yet. But the more time Kurt spends with Sebastian, the less he sees that as a travesty, and the more he's begun to equate that handsome car with its owner. They're one in the same – sleek, classy, powerful … and out of Kurt's league.
Kurt has been fiending to drive Sebastian's car for months, and now he is. Sitting in the driver's seat (which fits him like a glove), flying down the highway, with that phenomenal engine purring seductively in his ears, should feel like a dream come true.
But it doesn't. Not when he gets to drive it like this.
When Kurt and Sebastian left the dorms, the jackals converged. Knowing that following them out into the parking lot would be asking for trouble from the assistant dean, the boys stopped at the main threshold. Others chose to look down from the windows like kings on high watching the commoners flee. Kurt ignored them. It was easy.
He's had a fair amount of practice treating losers like they don't exist.
But as Kurt started loading Sebastian's stuff into his Navigator, with Elliott already behind the wheel, Sebastian turned to look at his Porsche sitting alone beneath its cover in the parking lot. That car, more than anything he owned, symbolizes him. It's like an extension of him. He isn't the only boy on campus who drives a Porsche, but his is still a part of his identity. Everyone knows that car.
Everyone knows its owner.
"M-master?" Sebastian said softly so as not to bring attention to the title.
"Yes, preppy?"
"Would it be alright if we took my car with us? If I leave it behind, I'm afraid …"
Kurt looked from his sub's eyes up and around to those watching them, some with the gall to smirk. If these assholes could tie a living human being to a chair against his will with a pillowcase over his head and a gag stuffed in his mouth, then they were definitely capable of destroying Sebastian's car.
And of finding some way of getting away with it.
It was just a car, an object, not equal to Sebastian's health or his life, but that wasn't the point. The goal of tonight's little escapade was to tear Sebastian down. Kurt knew that. And he wasn't about to give these assholes any more ammunition.
"Of course, preppy," Kurt said with a vindictive smile. "I catch your drift. You have the keys?"
Sebastian felt his pockets, fear creeping into his eyes at the thought that he may have left them behind and would have to go back for them.
He could do it with Kurt by his side, but he really didn't want to.
But, luckily, he ended up finding them. He pulled them out and held them up.
"Well, let's get to it, preppy," Kurt said, pointing the way. "I'm getting sick of the stench of bullshit that permeates this place."
"W-would you drive, Master?" Sebastian asked suddenly. "I-I don't think I can."
Kurt stared at the keys in Sebastian's hands, salivating like they were an expertly prepared prime rib. He was fully prepared to leap on that grenade; his whole body had been ready for this moment for a while. But those keys held out to him, jingling slightly as Sebastian trembled, clawed through him. Sebastian had once joked that Kurt could beat him within an inch of his life, but no one drove his baby. When it came down to it, it wasn't Kurt who'd beaten Sebastian into submission, and that made Kurt's blood boil. Not because he felt cheated, but because this boy he cared for, whom he had taken responsibility for, had been abused non-consensually, and Kurt hadn't been able to stop it.
Kurt hadn't been able, by his name or his claim, to protect him.
Kurt checks the rear view for Elliott following behind them in his Navigator, then looks at Sebastian, sitting in the seat beside him, arms wrapped around himself, eyes closed. Kurt isn't sure whether or not Sebastian is actually asleep. He wouldn't be surprised if Sebastian did fall asleep after the night he had, but he seems too at peace. He's probably just sorting things out in his head, Kurt thinks. Or maybe he's taking advantage of the dark in the car and the lull of the engine to think of nothing, feel nothing. Either way, Kurt decides not to bother him. There'll be time for talking later on.
Sebastian has earned the right to disappear for a while.
It's not a long drive from Dalton to Kurt's house; it only seems to take longer. Along the way, Kurt occupies his mind putting together lists – things he needs to buy since he'll be feeding the two of them (even though he's already taken to stocking his cabinets double since Sebastian is over at his house all the good God dammed time), phone calls he has to make, appointments he'll need to re-arrange, events he'll need to postpone.
And he should ask Elliott to slide him a little extra green bud. He has a feeling he and Sebastian are going to burn through what's left of his stash before the weekend's out.
Kurt pulls Sebastian's Porsche into his driveway while Elliott parks the SUV behind it, shielding the car from view and trapping it in. Kurt doesn't know if Sebastian's friends have any other plans, or if they know where he lives, but he's not putting anything past the little fuckers. With the amount of money and resources among them, who knows what they think they can accomplish.
Better safe than sorry.
"Alright, preppy." Kurt cuts the engine, but Sebastian doesn't turn around, which leaves Kurt talking to his back. "We're here."
Sebastian nods. "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." His voice sounds lifeless, monotone, but beneath the lack of emotion, it shakes ever so slightly.
Kurt puts a hand on Sebastian's shoulder and squeezes. "It's gonna be alright, preppy. I promise. I'm gonna get you through this."
"I know, Master," Sebastian says, trying to sound chipper. "I trust you."
Kurt doesn't know what to say to that. Hopefully, he'll find a way to be more brilliant once he gets Sebastian inside. He still blames himself, still thinks that if he was better at his fucking job, this would have never happened. But how? How was he supposed to know? How could he have anticipated this?
He couldn't have. Kurt got his intel second-hand, and nothing Sebastian has ever said about those assholes led Kurt to believe that they were capable of something like this. But teachers? Coaches? Adult-type authority figures who see these kids day in and day out? They should have been savvy. By all accounts, Kurt didn't drop the ball. Dalton Academy did.
Which makes Sebastian another poor soul that Dalton promised to protect, and then failed to deliver.
"Take your time, preppy," Kurt says, opening the car door. "I'm just gonna go send Elliott on his way."
"Yes, Master."
Kurt climbs out of the car. Elliott, striding over, tosses Kurt the keys to his Navigator.
"Thanks for this, Ells." Kurt catches his keys and goes in for a hug. "I owe you one."
"It's cool." Elliott hugs Kurt hard while he has the chance. He gets the feeling he's not going to see him again for a few days. "It's not like I had much going on tonight anyway."
"Really? I cut short your first scene in weeks, and you're giving me that dismissive shit?"
Elliott shrugs one shoulder. "This was more important."
Kurt raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to screw up this moment by saying something too sentimental or teasing. All he's wanted since that stupid Christmas party was for Elliott and Sebastian to get along. Kurt knows Sebastian is willing. Sebastian will do whatever it takes to please Kurt. It's Elliott who's been acting like a mule.
Maybe this is the start of Kurt watching that tide turn. Elliott did tell Sebastian that what happened to him tonight officially makes him one of them.
Does Elliott actually believe that?
Elliott glances over at the car with Kurt's sub sitting inside. They watch him silently, waiting for him to move. When he doesn't, the weight of what happened that evening settles heavily between them, bringing with it stomach-turning memories of past bullying, past violence.
"Take care of your boy, Kurt," Elliott says, a thickness in his voice that Kurt has only heard a handful of times before. It's as much empathy as it is sympathy. "Give him a few swats on the ass for me."
"Will do." Kurt watches Elliott stroll over to his motorcycle parked against the garage door, concealed by the shadows the roof throws beneath the light of the moon. He climbs on, puts on his helmet, throws the kickstand up, and backs down the driveway. He fires the engine, shifts it into gear, pulls a slow turn toward the street, and drives away. Kurt watches him go, as perplexed as he is relieved by his friend's behavior tonight. He could chalk it up to the fact that Elliott loves him, and despite his and Sebastian's differences, Elliott made a promise to always be there for Kurt.
But there's something else. Not an acquiescence because that's not in Elliott's nature.
Kurt can't put his finger on it, but whatever it is, he isn't looking any gift horses in the mouth.
Kurt walks back to Sebastian's Porsche and opens the passenger door. Sebastian hasn't moved, but his eyes are open, staring at the ground beneath Kurt's shoes. Kurt waits for any sign of acknowledgment, but not once does he look up at Kurt's face.
That could be conditioning, Kurt reasons. Or it could be Sebastian attempting to find subspace and escape to it.
Kurt can understand that. He can help him with that.
"Come on, baby. Let's get you inside." Kurt gives Sebastian a hand, but Sebastian doesn't rush to get out of the car. He seems content to sit where he is for the rest of the night. But he takes his Master's hand and holds it as if it's a buoy on the water in the midst of a terrible storm.
As if he's going to drown without Kurt's hand holding his.
Kurt is torn between the next thing he needs to do and letting go of Sebastian's hand, but he has to. Because caring for a broken heart is as much in the details as it is the big displays. Kurt wants Sebastian to know that he hears him - he knows the things that are important to him, and nothing he cares about is inconsequential or silly. So he stands his sub off to the side and, without Sebastian asking, puts the cover on his car. He tucks every last gleaming inch of Sebastian's Porsche beneath its protective shield and thinks, God, I love this car.
He may actually mean something more complicated than that, but it's what he's willing to admit to right now.
He leaves Sebastian's things in his Navigator and leads his boy to the house. He unlocks the door and steps inside with Sebastian following solemnly at his heels. Sebastian obediently takes of his shoes, preparing to go to Kurt's room and kneel in his spot, but Kurt stops him before he goes.
"Take a seat at the kitchen table," he says, locking the front door. "There are a few things we have to do before you turn in."
"Yes, Master," Sebastian says, the disappointment in his voice bred from not being allowed to serve. Kurt knows that Sebastian serving him the way they have designed would probably take his mind off of things, but Sebastian can't hide from this. He can't run away from it. He has to face it head on and put it behind him, or else it'll just be waiting for him later on when he thinks he's in the clear. The one thing that Kurt has always strived to be with Sebastian is honest, and Kurt knows for a fact that tackling problems and putting them to rest always ends better than burying your head in the sand, even if it's for the sake of your sanity.
Kurt watches his sub walk, the way he moves when he sits at the table. He's sluggish, his cocky swagger gone, as if the essence of who he was before has been sucked out of him. If Kurt had seen this boy in his club from behind, he wouldn't know him from Adam.
He needs to fix this.
"Here." Kurt puts a pad of writing paper on the table in front of him. "I know you probably don't want to think about it, but I need you to write down everything that happened to you, every detail you remember. Don't leave anything out, no matter how small. I'd let you do it later, but it's best to do it while it's fresh in your mind."
"I understand, Master."
"Then, we'll take some photographs, and I'll … I'll put you to bed. I promise. No session for tonight. You need your sleep."
"Yes, Master." Sebastian doesn't even try to smile. He takes the pen that Kurt left for him and starts writing while Kurt puts a kettle on the stove. As Kurt gets tea cups and saucers from the cabinet, he glances over at Sebastian writing furiously on the pad of paper. Kurt thought he'd need a grace period, a few seconds to get his thoughts together, but he hits the top sheet of paper with the point of the pen and doesn't stop. Once or twice the pen trips over a word, but he crosses out and continues on. The pen trembles in his hand, but he doesn't stop. He's still writing when the whistle on the kettle blows. Kurt pours hot water into two cups, adding a drop of honey and a touch of milk to one, the way he knows Sebastian likes his best.
"Here." Kurt puts the cup of tea down in front of his sub, assuming he'll stop to take a sip, but he doesn't. It's as if he can't. Now that the flood gates are open, he has to get it all out, put it down on paper so he doesn't forget a minute of how it felt. Kurt sips his tea quietly, watching Sebastian flip the page and keep going. Sebastian's tea cools, but he keeps writing. He wants to condemn those boys with these words – Thad and Jamie and all the rest. Especially Hunter. Fucking Hunter! He almost ruined everything!
Except no, he hadn't. Because Hunter never had the power, just like Sebastian had said. Hunter can't touch him. Not really. He can't derail Sebastian's life.
The worst thing that happened in that room - even worse than Sebastian being tied up, unable to breathe - was that Sebastian didn't give Kurt enough credit.
He didn't give what they have together the credit it deserves.
He gets to the part in his statement when Kurt showed up to save the day and that's when his pen slows. He pauses to take a sip of his tea, his hand shaking the cup so much that it spills, but Kurt's hand is there, steadying it so Sebastian can bring his lips to it and drink. It's neither hot nor cold. It's just right, the way everything feels now that he's with Kurt. Sebastian empties half the cup, the liquid soothing his turbulent stomach, unwinding the cramps that had begun to twist as he recounted his time in that chair.
When he starts to yawn, Kurt helps him finish, then guides the cup down to its saucer.
"It looks like you might be crashing," Kurt says, wrapping his fingers around Sebastian's hand and holding it, lending him his strength.
"I think … I might be … Master," Sebastian says through a barrage of stifled yawns.
"Let's take those pictures before you fall asleep in your seat," Kurt suggests. "Here." He moves his sub away from the table, setting him up in a chair underneath the brightest light in the room. "Remove your shirt. We're going to take a couple now, and a couple more in the morning when your bruises get a little bit darker."
"I understand, Master," is all Sebastian says, and Kurt sighs. He wishes Sebastian would just fucking unload, even if that means ugly crying, screaming and cursing.
Give him time. He just needs a little more time.
Kurt takes out his iPhone as Sebastian removes his shirt. Kurt had seen some of Sebastian's bruises when he'd helped his sub change. They weren't too bad then – the angry red outlines of rope marks and clustered, purpling masses that could be finger prints. But given time to develop, they've become grisly. The ropes bit into Sebastian's skin harder than he'd let on, or maybe his time with Kurt has desensitized him. Either way, indents mar his arms and legs, clearly enough so that anyone can tell what made them. Above those are definite finger marks. They vary in thickness, different hands having grabbed hold of Sebastian to keep him still. Kurt can tell that a few twisted as they held, indicating that Sebastian fought hard and they had to work to restrain him.
Well, good for fucking Sebastian!
But the one that pisses Kurt off the most is a solid round mark between Sebastian's pecs where someone held him with both hands compressing his chest. Kurt is careful when he bruises his sub, each mark he makes placed for maximum impact with minimal permanent injury. And every one means something. It carries a message, either to Sebastian or somebody else. He's never left marks like these on Sebastian's body – senseless, meaningless, violent trash littering his sub's gorgeous skin.
Kurt said it once, and he'll say it again - someone's going to pay for this.
Kurt focuses his iPhone camera on the bruise on Sebastian's chest and snaps off a few pics. The way these look, he's surprised that Sebastian doesn't have any broken ribs or internal bleeding.
"You know," Kurt says to break the silence that's starting to drown him, "I've done so many of these that, after a while, it becomes old hat."
"When was the first time, Master?" Sebastian asks to take his mind off what Kurt's doing and why. He has a hunch it might have been Elliott, considering how close the two of them are, how protective of one another. But aside from confirming his suspicions, he's just plain curious. There's still so much about Kurt's past that he doesn't know.
"Well, to be honest, preppy …" Kurt takes a step forward and starts photographing the rope marks on Sebastian's arms "… it was me. After I left Blaine."
Sebastian, whose gaze had been trained on his hands this whole time, raises his eyes to look at Kurt, but Kurt shifts his gaze away. He comes closer, puts a hand to Sebastian's chin, and takes a picture of the fabric burns around his mouth.
"I joined the scene for Blaine," Kurt admits, tilting Sebastian's head back further to take a picture of his neck. "I didn't need it. I would have been more than happy without it, I'll tell you what." It's such a determined statement, Sebastian knows Kurt had to have thought about it more than once, what his life would have been like if he'd avoided the scene. "Some guy at Dalton who had the hots for Blaine while we were dating introduced him to it, apparently behind my back via text messages and emails. He gave Blaine tips, and told him about places that catered to the BDSM scene in New York." Kurt's eyes meet Sebastian's momentarily as Kurt moves Sebastian's head the opposite way. Sebastian sees the regret in them, the sorrow. "He was grooming Blaine, you see, for the two of them to be together once we moved, but Blaine didn't pick up on that. He could be a bit dense when it came to guys flirting with him. Blaine was so damned excited about it, and that excitement had been building within him without my knowledge. When he finally brought it up to me, and introduced me to his friend, I agreed to give it a shot because I was sure that if I didn't, I was going to lose him." He laughs. It's dry, bitter, and steeped with hate. But hatred for Blaine? Hatred for Blaine's friend? Hatred for himself? Probably all three. "What did I know? The only stuff I knew about BDSM came from cheesy, second-rate pornos. Pornos I didn't even want to watch! I thought D/s was about handcuffs, spanking, whips, and gaudy, leather outfits. People calling other people Sir and Master …" Kurt shakes his head. "I didn't take it seriously. It was a joke to me, the way it was for you." He stops his picture taking to run his fingers through Sebastian's hair, finding comfort for himself in the silky strands and the fluttering of Sebastian's eyelids in response. "I didn't know it could consume you," he whispers. "I didn't know how badly it could fuck with your head. I got all of my information from Blaine because I was too scared to look it up for myself. I didn't want that shit on my Google search history." He chuckles, returning to the photographs. "I wasn't all that comfortable with sex, not the way Blaine was. And I was stupidly naïve. I trusted him too much. I mean, he loved me, right? Plus, he was a natural leader. He was charismatic. People gravitated toward him. I thought that those leadership skills would translate over. But that isn't enough in our world. It's not about acting the part. It's about being it. Blaine isn't a Dom. All Blaine is is an actor." Kurt puts down his phone. He looks tired all of a sudden. Done. "Take off your pants, preppy. We need to get the rest of them."
Sebastian doesn't register the command right away, and when he does, he can't move. He's numb from the story that Kurt has told him so far, and since they have yet to get to the part when Kurt leaves Blaine and photographs the bruises on his body, Sebastian can only assume it gets worse. Admittedly, Sebastian entered the BDSM scene because of Kurt, but he did it of his own free will. Kurt never forced him, tricked him, or manipulated him. On the contrary. He gave Sebastian every opportunity to back out if he wanted. And Kurt bending over backwards to hold on to Blaine? Sebastian has seen pictures of both men during their time at Dalton; found them in old yearbooks in the Dalton Academy library. Even though Kurt has done a complete one-eighty as he's gotten older, Sebastian can no more imagine him as insecure and vulnerable, scared of losing the man he loves and agreeing to this life, any more than he could picture himself traveling to Mars on a purple unicorn.
But here they are.
And if not for that, if not for Blaine, Sebastian would have never met Kurt.
Sebastian doesn't know if he should be pissed about that or grateful.
"We talked about it, but not enough. Not as much as we should have," Kurt continues, helping Sebastian with the fly to his jeans when he doesn't undo them. "We decided to start as switches, but it always seemed like me on my knees for him more than he ever was for me." Kurt tugs down Sebastian's waistband, and Sebastian lifts up to help him. "We kept it to ourselves, in the bedroom. I thought we were together on that. But he had other plans." Kurt pulls Sebastian's jeans to his ankles. He spots a particularly nasty bruise, and stops to take a picture. "Not only did Blaine want to be more public with that part of our relationship, he didn't want to necessarily stay exclusive." Kurt runs a gentle finger over the raised, purple mark, then leans forward and kisses it. The touch of Kurt's lips to Sebastian's leg startles him, but it's an anesthetic for what Kurt says next. "He started sharing me without my permission, humiliating me in ways we'd never discussed. He ignored my safewords, trying to make himself look tough, powerful. The kind of Dominant he thought other Dominants would respect, especially since we were in New York."
Kurt moves to the other leg, not looking into Sebastian's devastated face. "One night, I found myself doped up, in the middle of an orgy, and I had no idea how I got there." Kurt pauses when he hears Sebastian catch his breath, taking longer than necessary fussing over his next pic. "One of Elliott's partners at the time found me. He was a pay-for-play Dom and a gay-for-pay submissive, but he was cool. That's how I met Elliott, which is funny considering we'd been going to the same college the whole time and had never once run into each other. Ells and his friend took care of me. I moved in with them that night, pretty much left everything I owned behind at mine and Blaine's apartment. Never did get a lot of it back. They tried to get me to press charges, file a restraining order, but law enforcement doesn't traditionally look too kindly on people of our deviation." Kurt rests his head on Sebastian's knee and looks off into nothing, watching the events scroll by in his mind. "And I was right. When I finally got up the nerve to go down there, the police twisted my words around. They said I wanted it, that I had consented because I was there in the first place, that I knew what I was getting into because I had ordered drinks, because I had taken off my own clothes ..." Sebastian feels what he swears is a tear roll down his skin as Kurt returns mentally from wherever. He pockets his phone and dabs at his eyes so slyly, Sebastian barely notices. "After that, I did a little online research about the legal system and how it pertained to me. It wasn't all that helpful, to be honest, but I got the gist. I had Elliott take pictures of what was left of my bruises from that night, and I kept them, just in case." Kurt pulls Sebastian's jeans the rest of the way off his legs so his sub can walk. "I dropped out of school and I quit my job because those were two places I knew Blaine could find me, but I couldn't avoid him forever. I needed to put some distance between me and him, and Ells said he needed a change of pace, so the two of us packed up, moved back to Ohio, and opened our club. I didn't know what I wanted at the time, but I knew I needed to take back control of my life, so I became a professional Dominant. We made our club into the dungeon of our dreams, and found people from all over who weren't just good people, but responsible Dominants and submissives - supportive, mentoring, knowledgeable, all of the things that I could have used back in New York with Blaine. I was determined that I wasn't going to let another person end up like me. The more people I met in the scene, the more I came across people like me – people who had gone in wide-eyed and ignorant, usually for someone they loved, and ended up on the bad end of an ego trip. Without knowing it, we started catering to not only the kinky subset of Ohio, but to a large group of abused submissives. We became sort of a safe-house. The people who come to our club have been coming there for years. It's like a second home … to all of us."
Kurt helps Sebastian to his feet, but when Kurt tries to get him to walk, he's unable to take that first step. Kurt turns to look at him, gets a good look at his face.
Sebastian looks positively heartbroken - his eyes red, his cheeks wet with tears, his chin quivering but his jaw locked, as if he's been holding back the inevitable.
"Oh, Sebastian. I take it my story didn't make you feel better."
Sebastian snuffles in unattractively, but he's stopped caring how he looks. He's naked, physically and emotionally. He's never felt so naked in front of anyone, especially not in front of Kurt, with these new, foreign bruises on display. He hates them. He hates that he has them. Kurt's bruises are a work of art to Sebastian. A badge of honor. When he has them, they fill him with a feeling of strength and belonging. These bruises he has now are disgusting. They make him feel like an outcast. But mostly, they're embarrassing.
They make him feel violated and weak.
They make him feel worthless.
"W-was it supposed to, Master?"
"Yes. But maybe not the way you think."
"Then h-how?"
Kurt's arms circle Sebastian's waist. He rests his head on Sebastian's chest, on that circular black-and-blue that he loathes so much. And there Kurt is - there Sebastian's Dom is - covering those marks with his body, filling in the cracks and crevices, and making Sebastian feel complete again.
"It's supposed to make you feel a little less alone. There's a lot of us out there, baby. A lot of people who were dicked over by someone they trusted. If you ever think you have no one in the world you can turn to, just remember, Pavarotti's Prison is your home now, too."
And that's one more hole filled. A huge one. When Sebastian left Dalton with Kurt and Elliott, he'd felt cheated, the way Kurt said he had back when he was in high school. That place Sebastian felt was his second home was a lie, and losing it threatened to destroy him. But he'd already had another home, even if he didn't realize it. It was Kurt's club.
It was Kurt.
That's when Sebastian finally lets go and the tears begin to fall.
Kurt leads Sebastian down the hallway towards his bedroom, bringing the pad of paper and pen with them in case Sebastian remembers something later on that he wants to add. He drops both on his bedside table and, with his heart in his throat, starts the task of freeing Sebastian from tonight.
It's not that Sebastian hasn't spent days on end at Kurt's place before, but for the first time, Kurt is taking care of not just his needs as a submissive. His deeply emotional ones, too. This is something that should annoy the shit out of Kurt. He's not a big fan of people relying on him for emotional stability.
So why does this excite him so much?
Kurt starts with a shower, turning the water to hot, then stripping down in front of Sebastian with his sub's eyes on him. Kurt demanded it, to root Sebastian in the here and now so that, should he find his way to subspace, he'll remember he's with Kurt and that he's safe, that the person touching his body and commanding his mind is Kurt, and not those sick motherfuckers from his school.
And while they shower, Kurt gives Sebastian permission to kiss, permission to touch, permission to cry, which he does out of anger and frustration. With other submissives, this would be the time for Kurt to exercise strict control, but that's not what Sebastian needs. He's still a teenager, and sometimes he needs that young, carefree, puppy-dog type of affection.
So Dom and sub put everything else on hold while Kurt lets Sebastian kiss him; lets Sebastian push him up against the wall and pin him there, hands roaming freely up and down his body; while he lets Sebastian mark him with hickeys on his neck and shoulders, one bite hard enough to draw blood, and Kurt, with his eyes rolled back in his head, cums. Kurt returns the favor by sinking to his knees and blowing him, letting Sebastian cum down his throat, fill him with his pain. And like that evening in December when Sebastian dropped, Kurt washes him with his own body wash, dries him off and slathers him with his signature lotions, marking him with his scent along with his kisses and his teeth.
More than anything, Kurt wants to cover those bruises with new ones, blot out the petty hate with his own brand of caring and ownership. And he knows Sebastian wants it, too. But he can't. Not yet. Not until these have been completely documented, and that will happen in the morning.
Kurt will start early so that they can get to work obliterating them – possibly for the entire day.
Kurt puts Sebastian to bed unbound and tucks him in. They don't speak. There's nothing left to say. So they kiss instead, Sebastian wrapping his arms around Kurt's body and taking while he can with Kurt lying back and enjoying it because, hey – Sebastian's an awesome kisser. But there comes a point when those kisses become sloppy and soft, with Sebastian sinking more into the mattress than he does into Kurt until eventually his lips stop moving altogether and he begins to snore.
Kurt holds his sub while Sebastian drifts off to sleep, kissing his forehead and his damp hair. Kurt tries to sleep, too, wound around Sebastian, so comfortable with his sub in his arms, so warm sharing his body heat. But he can't. He's riled up, his instinct not to reach for unconsciousness, which is only a shut eye away, but to get out of bed, drive back to Dalton, and start wailing on whomever he can find. It would serve those bastards right to wake up in the morning, tied to their beds with their dicks wrapped in razor wire, the words, "Hands off my fucking property until the end of time! Signed KH" carved into their chests.
Legally, however, that could prove problematic.
He does everything he can to put a kibosh on the vindictive thoughts popping up in his head and black out the way Sebastian has, but he can actually hear the gears whirring in his brain as he subconsciously contemplates a plan of revenge. He decides to try blocking it out with music, or maybe some ocean sounds – meditative shit that Elliott turned him on to shortly after his father's last heart attack. Kurt peeks over at his bedside table, but the only thing he spots is Sebastian's statement, resting haphazardly on top of everything, where Kurt left it.
Kurt stares at it, undecided as to what he wants to do about it. He wants to read it, but on the other hand, he doesn't want to read it. He should read it so he knows how to proceed tomorrow when they drop by the police station. Kurt doesn't know the whole story, and he doesn't want to be caught off guard.
But he also wants to be able to sleep peacefully tonight.
Seeing as he can't find his iPod, he left his phone in the bathroom in the pocket of his pants, and he doesn't want to leave his bed (or Sebastian) to find a magazine to read, he reaches over and behind, slowly so as not to wake up his sub, and grabs the pad of paper.
The first few words leap immediately off the page and slap Kurt in the face, Sebastian's handwriting surprisingly neat considering the condition he was in when he wrote this.
Kurt sighs. There's going to be no easing into this one.
He tries to read it from top to bottom, step away from it, remove emotion from it and ingest the information like he would the news (though, to be honest, he stopped reading the news a while ago for similar reasons). But he can't. After the first paragraph detailing how Hunter had baited him, giving the other boys time to jump him; how he felt trapped, couldn't breathe; how he thought he had lost something important to him; Kurt has to put it down. He's so fucking angry, and if he can't go to Dalton and break a few kneecaps, he might explode.
He needs some sort of release, something to work out his aggression. He searches his room, goes over his options. He could smoke, mellow the fuck out, but he doesn't want to disturb Sebastian. He could masturbate, but, that again, might wake his sub up, and besides, it would be a pity to go at it solo when there's a gorgeous man lying beside him in bed.
Kurt peruses the contents of his bedside table, the removal of the pad of paper revealing the contents underneath – lotions, lubes, and cuffs, his lighter, a bong, his last bag of weed, an empty beer bottle, a razor blade ...
Kurt stops on the blade. It's a fresh one, the sharp edge wrapped in cardboard. It's been waiting there for Kurt's next session with Sebastian, but he could turn it on himself, indulge in self-pity and slice up his legs, tear up his chest. It would help him relax, feel in control – a feeling he'd lost somewhere in between getting Jeff's text and finding Sebastian tied up. Of course, that's a feeling he could regain with his sub cuffed to his bed, a gag in his mouth, and a hook up his ass, but Kurt can't wake Sebastian for that. The only option he has is to damage himself – either by doing this, or going down to the club, finding a willing slave, and whipping them for all they're worth.
But he can't do that either. He made a promise. Sebastian is his one and only for as long as they're together. Kurt said so himself.
He can't call on anyone else. Not even Elliott.
Kurt isn't going to cheat.
God! Kurt rolls his head on his neck. Cheat! As if they're an item! As if they're a thing!
Kurt lets out a sigh in retaliation of himself. He's so fucking pathetic. He has to stop fighting against it and man up, stop playing as if Sebastian doesn't matter as much as he does. He has to come to terms with the fact that that's what they are. And Kurt has himself to blame more than anyone. He's the man in charge. He's the one who let it get this far.
And worst of all, he has no regrets.
Sebastian begins to whimper, and all of Kurt's thoughts go to him. He turns his back on the blade and wraps his arms around Sebastian again. The second he does, Sebastian stops, and Kurt knows he can't let go of him – not tonight.
"It's all right, preppy," Kurt says into his hair. "It's going to be all right, I promise … Sebastian."
Pulling him close, Kurt closes his eyes, and falls asleep.