Summary: After Kurt's Christmas party, after Sebastian drops, he has a difficult time drifting off to a peaceful sleep. So Kurt opts to wake him up and share a peaceful morning.
Notes: Okay, so this actually sends us back to right after the Christmas tree incident. This was a vignette I wrote for right after 'A Dalton Boy Learns the Truth' but it got corrupted on another computer. I managed to recover it an finish it so, yeah. Here you are. It's one of the softer love scenes in the series.
Sebastian eventually settles into a cozy, happy place lying beside Kurt in bed – that floaty, blurry-edged, cloud-like space that usually follows a particularly strenuous scene. But unlike other times, Sebastian finds it difficult to fend off stressful dreams. According to what he hears Kurt murmur in his ear the times he startles himself awake, Sebastian dropped pretty hard, pretty fast. Every thought that fills his mind after he finally drifts off to a solid sleep is steeped in melancholy and 'sad', even over things he'd once been excited about.
Things he'd been looking forward to.
He'd never before seen graduating high school and leaving Westerville as an ending. Even though he isn't entirely grounded in what he wants to do with the rest of his life, he saw it as a beginning. Even if he doesn't leap straight into college, the possibilities are endless. He recognizes that he has a certain amount of privilege, and he loves it. He's one lucky fuck. He could travel the world, volunteer overseas, go to a trade school and slum it learning something mundane like refrigerator repair or aluminum siding installation.
His dad would probably hate that. He wouldn't say it outright, but he'd allude to it in every conversation they'd have. His dad isn't an asshole where class systems are concerned. He owns enough properties that he respects blue collar workers, appreciates the services they provide.
He's just never pictured his son becoming one.
His father can't really complain if he does. Trade work is a good living. And seeing where the economy is headed, it might even be better in the long run than getting a degree in business. Every day Sebastian reads articles claiming trade school's where it's at for his generation.
Besides, he could see Kurt digging it.
His dad's a mechanic. Sebastian has heard them talk shop over the phone, watched him give Elliott's bike a once over when he complained it was making a funny noise. It was hotter than hell watching Kurt get his hands dirty changing the oil in his Navigator.
Maybe watching Sebastian get his own hands dirty would have the same effect on Kurt.
Sebastian could go to New York and try his luck on the Broadway stage, or Hollywood and try to break into network television. If he gets off his ass tomorrow and starts a YouTube channel, he could land himself a role on a CW television show. That happens a lot, doesn't it? To people with a lot less talent than him? His parents might not be over-the-moon about that idea either, but it's his life. They keep saying so. How he lives it is up to him.
Which is obvious when he considers his current circumstances.
At the start of his senior year, there wasn't a single thing keeping him tethered to Westerville. He'd come back to visit his parents, of course, but once he graduated Dalton, he'd have no unfinished business in Ohio. He could close this chapter of his life, consider it over and done.
All that changed the night he showed up at Pavarotti's Prison.
The night he became Kurt's pet.
Now when he graduates, he'll be leaving something extraordinary behind - Kurt Hummel, and the claim he's staked on Sebastian's heart.
And even though that thought has begun to pull him apart, it's also caused ideas to form. He may not know what he wants to do, but he knows where he wants to be, and why.
And oddly, he feels like that's giving him direction.
Warmth on his chest starts pulling him awake. Centered between his pecs and over his heart, a pressure has begun to grow, accompanied by a comforting sensation he can't put his finger on. In this half-dream state, he knows where he is, who he's with. He knows he's with Kurt, cuddled against him, cradled in his arms. But the more aware he becomes of his surroundings, he realizes they've flipped positions.
Kurt's head is on Sebastian's chest instead of the other way around.
Normally when Kurt wakes Sebastian, it's with rough sex - Sebastian tied and gagged, being ridden hard like a dildo.
For hours sometimes.
Kurt can never seem to get enough.
But this time, when Sebastian starts to wake, it's to barely there kisses on his neck and the tiniest licks around the hollow of his throat.
"Are you okay, preppy?" Kurt whispers against his sub's skin when he hears his breathing change, feels him waking up. "After last night?"
"I think so, Master," Sebastian says, wincing at his own gravelly voice.
"Is this alright?" Kurt asks to Sebastian's surprise because Kurt never asks. He takes. That's rule number one – in Kurt's house, everything belongs to him, and he takes without asking. But here he was, asking if Sebastian is okay.
Asking Sebastian if he wants this.
If he can handle it.
If he's willing to try.
"Yes, Master," Sebastian says. "It's alright."
"Good. Because I need you inside me," Kurt decides, fiddling with his hands where Sebastian can't see, then moving him around, turning him on his side and positioning his sub behind him. A bottle lid pops, something rips, cold and wet covers Sebastian's cock applied by soft, strong hands. "You don't even have to wake up if you don't want to."
Sebastian chuckles, but those chuckles turn to moans when hot and tight starts inching its way down his erection. "H-how strong do you think I am, Master?"
"Pretty fucking strong. Here …" Kurt puts his hand on Sebastian's hip and rocks him back and forth ever so slightly, "just like that. D-don't go any faster than that."
"Yes, Master," Sebastian mumbles into Kurt's shoulder, gnawing gently the way Kurt showed him. Kurt sinks into him, and Sebastian can't remember having sex in a more intimate way than this with anyone.
He follows Kurt's orders, sliding slowly back and forth, a hint of thrust that puts the head of his cock right where Kurt wants him and keeps him there. It takes control to stay this way, to not flip Kurt onto his stomach and pound him into the mattress, which is something that he, luckily, enjoys.
But no.
Not this time.
Kurt wants slowly.
So Sebastian will give him slowly.
It's relaxing having sex this way. He can see himself lasting forever at this speed and in this position. How wonderful would that be? Rolling into Kurt's body for the rest of the morning, on and on until the afternoon. The phone would ring, people would stop by, knock on the window, bark at him to let them in. But they'd ignore the world and all their problems and fuck the day away.
Kurt's nails bite into Sebastian's hips and he starts to speed up. He doesn't do it consciously. Kurt is just so sexy, and he feels so good around him, Sebastian can't help himself. It creeps up on him, Kurt's body coaxing him with the subtle flexing of his muscles, breathy gasps from his lips, and his smell - everything he's put on his skin or in his body in the past few hours - a lethal combination of cloves, cologne, whiskey, lubricant, and soap. For a moment, Kurt is on that same page with him, chanting, "Yes, yes, yes …" as he tugs Sebastian forward, urges him on. But like a locomotive overshooting its stop, he slams on the brakes.
"No! No no …" Kurt slides down Sebastian's cock till his ass meets his sub's groin and stops him. "You're not cumming. Not yet. And neither am I. Take a breath. A deep breath ... not yet …" he continues sotto voce "… it can't … just … not yet ..."
"Alright," Sebastian pants. "I understand … Master …"
Kurt nods, bringing Sebastian's hand to his lips and kissing his fingers, counting against his skin as he tries to settle his orgasm down.
"O-okay." Kurt scoots forward, nudging Sebastian's hips toward him. "Keep going."
Sebastian's hands move as his hips moves. He can't stop them, and Kurt doesn't say no. He grabs Kurt's hip, holds on tight, but it's not enough. He wraps his arms around him – one around his waist, one around his torso, and hugs. Flush against each other with only his hips parting from his body in brief, steady intervals, it's almost close enough.
"Oh …" Kurt moans, "oh, preppy … oh God …"
Sebastian wraps a hand around Kurt's cock and holds him, surrenders to letting his Master use him to work his way to an orgasm. Outside Kurt's bedroom window with one shutter open, snow begins to fall. It piles up on the sills, sticks to the glass, catching moonlight from outside and twinkling like stars. It's a magical sight, but less so than the man in Sebastian's arms.
The warmth from before, the one in his chest, becomes lava hot. It cascades through his body. He has no control over it, and that's the best part. Being with Kurt, he rarely has control. Kurt owns the control. Kurt decides when Sebastian cums, if Sebastian cums, and how. It's torture and release, the not knowing along with the not needing to decide. But that's where trust comes into the equation.
And Sebastian trusts Kurt to take care of him - in every way possible.
The heat rushes through his body the same time a similar heat spills over his hand. A shuddering Kurt turns his head and captures Sebastian's mouth. Kissing Sebastian is Kurt's favorite way to ride out an orgasm. This position requires Sebastian to strain his abs, prop himself awkwardly onto one elbow and contort so that Kurt can kiss him comfortably for as long as he pleases.
But Sebastian would stay this way forever if it meant Kurt would be thoroughly satisfied.
"Okay," Kurt whispers. "Okay … okay … oh God …" He snuggles back against Sebastian's chest, grabs his arms and wraps them around himself. And to Sebastian, there isn't a better feeling in the world. "We have to do that about a hundred more times before you leave for your folks'."
Sebastian runs his cheek against Kurt's hair, keeping deeper thoughts to himself. "I'm game if you are."