WARNING: contains marriage proposal. the whole thing is soft af. inspired by this post on instagram. link to ao3.
Derek doesn’t see the actual invite until the night before the event. When he does see it, he’s pretty sure Dex has kept it away from him for fear of him going all Shitty on the institution that is Dex’s new employer, and okay, that’s fair, but it also makes him sort of ... nervous?
“How fancy is this thing?” Derek asks on Monday night. They’re on the couch, as usual, Dex is flipping through TED talks and Derek is laying down with his head in Dex’s lap, reading a book that’s turning out to be increasingly boring and badly written. Dex has one hand tangled in Derek’s hair, absentmindedly scratching his scalp. Derek’s thoughts are drifting.
“Hm?” Dex says.
“This thing on Saturday. How fancy is it? Like, what’s the dress code?”
Dex had told him a few weeks ago that they’d been invited to a function at the university, that they were both free according to their calendars, and that he’d intended to RSVP yes, unless Derek had any objections? Which Derek didn’t. Dex’s had his doctorate for a couple of years now, they’ve attended a fair amount of academic functions and events, Derek is used to them. This is their first one at Columbia, though, so he wants to make sure they follow proper etiquette, to not draw even more attention to the fact that they’re two men. It shouldn’t be an issue, but like, better safe than sorry, in this case.
“Black tie, I guess?” Dex says, frowning down at him. “Why?”
“Yeah, but is it like, strict black tie, don’t even think about wearing pink socks, or is it like, creative black tie?” Derek very much hopes it’s the latter, because Dex looks so good with the forest green tie.
“Babe, I don’t know.”
“Can you check? I just need to know if I need to, like, cut my hair.” He’s growing it out, and it’s already long enough to put in a ponytail.
Dex’s grip on his hair hardens. “Don’t you dare,” a warning in his voice. Derek smirks up at him.
“Chill. I won’t. But just--”
“Yeah, I’ll check.”
Derek is satisfied with that, and returns to his book.
*
On Friday, the night before, Dex has his D&D night, so Derek does his goodnight sweep of the apartment alone; checks that all the windows are closed and locked, all the lights are turned off. He hesitates in the doorway of the office/library/guest/glorified storage room. Dex is not a neat freak by any means, but he does keep his desk immaculate, so when there’s an envelope on it, it’s pretty hard to miss. It looks fancy.
Derek picks it up, and it’s not until his second read that he even catches it.
Dr. and Mrs. William Poindexter
It’s a mistake, Derek knows it, it’s a sloppy copy paste error because they’ve used the same template a million times, but it is also sort of rude. They’re not even married (yet), so the whole thing just feels awfully presumptuous, and Derek understands why this particular invite hasn’t been tacked to the fridge like usual. They will get married. Probably. There’s just been--Dex’s PhD, Derek’s teaching certificate, Derek trying to properly get control over his anxieties, time has just ... passed. But Derek at least lives with the assumption that they will get married. One day.
He puts the envelope back, goes to bed, and doesn’t say anything about it when Dex gets home and crawls into bed next to him.
*
Luckily, the dress code is more creative than formal, and Derek would be ashamed of how much he stares at Dex if he wasn’t so incredibly handsome.
“You have to stop,” Dex mutters under his breath the fifth time he catches Derek staring at him in as many minutes.
“Why? I’m your wife, I’m allowed,” Derek says with a smirk. Dex starts rolling his eyes but stops halfway through the motion and stares sharply at Derek.
“What?”
“You left the invitation on your desk,” Derek says and presses a light kiss to Dex’s cheek, a reassuring I’m not mad about this and won’t make a scene gesture.
“I corrected them when I RSVP’d, and they apologized,” Dex says anyway, eyeing Derek sort of warily.
“Good. Oh, can I read the email? Would Shitty be proud of it?”
“Shitty would be embarrassed about how polite I was, but Shitty isn’t in a queer relationship and doing his first six months at Columbia, so I don’t really care.”
Derek grins at him. “I love you,” he says, aware that he’s probably looking like a lovesick puppy.
“You’re ridiculous,” Dex replies, but gives him a kiss. “Come on, I want you to meet the guys I work with,” he says and takes Derek’s hand and starts guiding him through the room.
“You gonna introduce me as your wife?”
“Yes, because that would make perfect sense after talking about my boyfriend for the past two months,” Dex agrees, rolling his eyes again.
“Oh, so you talk about your boyfriend at work, but not your wife? Rude,” Derek says, just as they arrive in front of a group of people who seem to know Dex. They get a couple of raised eyebrows, and Dex glares at him.
“Derek, these are my coworkers. Guys, this is Derek, the idiot I’m dating.”
“Dating, William, really?” Derek scoffs. “We’ve been living together for ten years, and you haven’t taken me out on a date since my birthday, which was in February. That hardly classifies as dating. Hi,” he adds, addressing the group with a smile.
Dex shakes his head in exasperation, but lets it go. Derek squeezes his hand in thanks.
*
“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Derek mumbles sleepily when they’re seated on the subway home, hours later. He’s a bit buzzed on wine and champagne, but he’s not drunk. He wants to rest his head on Dex’s shoulder but he’s too tall for that to actually be comfortable, so he settles for leaning close, probably preens a little when Dex slides an arm around his waist.
“Wouldn’t mind what?” Dex asks.
“Being your wife,” Derek says. He feels Dex go completely still against him, and when he turns to look at him, all the leftover amusement from the champagne buzz has left him and he’s staring at Derek with a Very Serious face.
“What?” Dex says, and Derek can’t tell if he’s just confused or if he’s also mad. Derek is wide awake now, at least. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t figure out what.
“What?” he settles on, echoing it back.
“I--Derek, are you proposing, on the subway, using the words I wouldn’t mind?”
Derek is about to protest, but then he thinks back, and realizes that he may, in fact, have been proposing. Sort of.
“No?” he tries, anyway. Dex’s only response is a single raised eyebrow. Okay. “But also kind of yes? Sorry?”
Dex sighs, puts his other arm around Derek as well and hugs him, tight. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says.
“That’s not an answer,” Derek observes. He’s not too worried, though. The situation doesn’t feel like a No.
“You technically didn’t ask a question,” Dex says. He lets Derek go and settles back, one arm still around Derek’s waist. “And besides, if I don’t answer, we can pretend this didn’t happen, and you can get a do-over. I refuse to have C chirp me for this for the rest of our lives.”
“C has zero chirping rights when it comes to proposals,” Derek says indignantly. “He didn’t even propose, Cait found the ring in his fucking sock drawer!”
“Do you even have a ring?” Dex counters, which shuts Derek up, but that’s also partly because they’ve reached their stop and need to get off.
Neither of them says anything until they’re up on the street. It’s cold, and Derek forgot his gloves, so he puts one hand in his coat pocket and grabs Dex’s hand with the other.
“Will,” Derek says after a few seconds, which makes Dex stop. Derek is suddenly extremely nervous, even though he knows, with every logical bone in his brain (whatever), that he has nothing to worry about. “When I get a ring, and ask you for real ... are you gonna say yes?”
Dex tugs him so close that their chests are touching. With the hand not holding Derek’s, he cups his cheek and kisses him, sweetly. “Yes, Derek,” he says, softly, privately. “I’m gonna say yes.”
fic: I’d marry you with paper rings (Nando/Quinn, NC-17)
Man, I don’t even know. I’m maybe writing a fic that’s forced slow burn, and I needed to write something light and easy. Mel’s Cricket Series has brought me so much joy and happiness during this weird and crappy spring, and when I read this post, I was like, yes, let’s write my obligatory crossdressing fic that i apparently write for every ship i ever write for, and this thing just ... happened.
@poindextears, thank you for letting me take your characters and have my wicked way with them. Also, I’m sorry.
Here’s this thing on ao3.
Nando would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit worried about the way Quinn has been behaving today. He’s not sure anyone else has picked up on it, but then again, no one else spends as much time as close to Quinn as Nando does. He doesn’t really know how to explain it, but if he had to, he thinks he’d describe Quinn as skittish today. He hasn’t shied away from Nando’s touch, really, but he has tensed up slightly every time Nando’s hand has reached below, like, shoulder level. It’s weird, Nando doesn’t like it.
Something about the check in at the hotel is taking longer than usual. Everyone else has already been sent off to their rooms, but Quinn is still talking with the guy behind the desk. He has to stand on his toes to properly reach up and it probably shouldn’t be as adorable as it is, but it’s not like Nando makes the rules. His boyfriend is adorable, that’s just the way it is. And, finally, his boyfriend is done being Team Manager. Nando sincerely hopes everyone will behave tonight, so he can have Quinn as his Boyfriend until they wake up tomorrow. He grabs their bags and starts heading along the corridor everyone else had gone into, but Quinn’s voice stops him.
“Sebastián. This way.” Nando turns around, and Quinn is standing by another corridor, reaching out a hand. Nando is confused, but where Quinn goes, he follows, so he walks over and takes his hand.
“Where are we going?” he asks as they head down the corridor towards an elevator.
“To our room, of course,” Quinn says, then starts humming a song Nando doesn’t recognize. Nando sighs, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. He’s learned a lot during his almost-four years at Samwell, and one of those things is when it’s just completely useless to try to get Quinn to talk when he doesn’t want to.
They take the elevator to the fourth floor, then Quinn leads them through corridors and around corners. There is no way Nando will be able to find his way out of here alone. He squeezes Quinn’s hand. Good thing he won’t have to.
Finally, Quinn stops in front of a door at the end of a hallway and taps the keycard against the lock. The door beeps, lets them in, and Nando barely has time to drop their bags on the floor before Quinn is on him, kissing him like they’ve been apart for weeks. Nando responds in kind, but he barely has time to put his hands on Quinn’s waist before Quinn pulls away.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. Nando looks at him, surprised. He doesn’t bother pointing out that it’s pretty useless to take a shower before they have sex, because Quinn knows that as well as he does. But, if Quinn is taking a shower now, that might mean he’s not up for sex, but that’s also weird, because between the two of them, Nando is usually the one who begs off. Not that it happens often (because hello), but when it does, it’s usually Nando.
That doesn’t mean he won’t respect Quinn’s wishes, though, of course he won’t try to talk Quinn into having sex with him. “Okay,” he says, and if he wasn’t already pressed against the door, he would take a step back. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. Quinn reaches up to press a kiss to his jaw, then grabs his bag and locks himself in the bathroom. Nando stands by the door for a few seconds, confused by what just happened, before he grabs his own bag and moves further into the room.
There’s a double bed, which is standard for the two of them nowadays (Nando loves that he’s dating the team manager), a desk, a tv. Standard room. He drops his bag and starts to pull off his clothes, preparing for bed. It’s quick work, then he grabs the tv remote from the desk and lies down on the bed. He kicks the bedspread down and then starts to channel surf, with the sound of Quinn’s shower in the background.
A few minutes later, he hears Quinn coming out of the bathroom. Nando moves to grab his toiletry bag, his attention mostly on the tv, but he flicks one glance at Quinn and freezes.
“Uhm,” Nando says, then swallows. Quinn, his outrageously hot boyfriend, the love of his life, is standing in front of him wearing nothing but a sweatshirt. Nando’s sweatshirt. It’s a navy blue soft-washed thing that Nando barely recognizes, he hasn’t used it in a long while, which means Quinn probably dug through his closet to get it. Nando doesn’t mind, especially when this is the result. The sweatshirt is too big on Quinn, it reaches halfway down his thighs and the arms have been folded up to show his hands. At the neck, the opening is wide and shows Quinn’s collar bone. His hair is ruffled in the way he only allows it to be immediately after a shower, and Nando is going to explode with how much he loves Quinn. Also, he’s going to have to jerk off in the bathroom, because Quinn looking like this does things to Nando.
He takes a breath to steady himself and then stands up. His erection is showing and he knows it, but at least he no longer feels guilty at being turned on by the sight of his boyfriend looking like a wet dream.
“Get back on the bed,” Quinn says in a no bullshit voice. Nando is used to it by now.
“Baby, I just need to—”
“Sebastián. Get back. On the bed,” Quinn repeats, much sharper, and Nando’s dick twitches. He gets back on the bed.
“Are we gonna have sex?” he asks, because he needs to know. Quinn kneels on the bed and stares at him.
“Of course we’re going to have sex,” he says. “Did you think we weren’t?”
Nando shrugs. “I mean ...” he waves a hand towards the bathroom. Quinn rolls his eyes and crawls towards him.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, but the tone of his voice makes it sound like I love you.
Nando settles back on the bed and drags Quinn towards him, onto his lap. “I’m your idiot, though,” he says, wrapping his arms around Quinn’s waist and pressing his face into the curve of Quinn’s neck. He smells like soap, and his skin is still slightly damp from the shower, and Nando loves him so much. “I love you,” he says, because he needs to. He doesn’t need to see Quinn’s face to know he’s smiling.
“I love you, too,” Quinn says, and then he grinds down on Nando’s lap, reminding him that while his boyfriend is the sweetest man he’s ever met, he’s also a sexual deviant who’s going to break Nando one of these days, honestly. “Not having sex,” Quinn continues under his breath as he settles into a much-too slow rhythm. “As if. I even flirted with the reception staff to get us a room without anyone next door.”
“Baby,” Nando groans, equal parts impressed and jealous. Given the chance, Quinn is loud during sex, and between the Haus and Quinn’s dorm, there aren’t many chances. They didn’t even realize just how much being loud was a thing until this past summer, when they’d spent hours in Nando’s childhood bed, both sisters and Mama out of the house. Nando’s dick twitches just at the thought of Quinn not having to hold back anything tonight. If he’d had any lingering tiredness in him after the game, it’s fully and thoroughly gone by now.
He slides his hands from Quinn’s waist, down under the sweatshirt to grab his ass, but stops when his fingers don’t meet the soft cotton or bare skin he’s expecting. He lifts the hem of the shirt to get a look and holy fucking fuck Nando is going to die, and when his Mama finds out the cause of death she’s going to revive him only to kill him again, but it will be worth it.
Quinn, his beautiful, sexy, adorable Quinn, is sitting on his lap, draped in Nando’s sweater, and lace panties. They’re a dark, rich purple, contrasting beautifully to Quinn’s winter pale skin, and Nando doesn’t know what to do. He wants to look at Quinn forever but he also wants to put his hands and his mouth all over him and worship him. Also fuck him.
“Is this—okay?” Quinn asks, suddenly unsure when Nando is having a minor breakdown. It makes Nando pull himself together, a little bit, enough to realize that there is no way he can let Quinn be even the tiniest bit unsure if Nando likes this or not. He moves his hands up to cup Quinn’s face and kisses him, trying to put everything into it. They usually discuss it at least twice before they bring anything new into bed, but Quinn hasn’t said a word about this, so Nando gets why he’s worried, but Nando also has absolutely no complaints whatsoever. And it’s not like it’s a completely new thing, Nando hasn’t exactly been discreet when they prep for Rhodey’s shows, but they still haven’t discussed it, not in this context. So yeah, Nando gets why Quinn might be worried, so he really, really tries to convey with his kiss how much he absolutely doesn’t mind, how much he loves it, how turned on he is just by the short glimpse he caught. Which—Nando should do something about that. He needs to see.
“Wha—Sebastián!” Quinn yelps as Nando grabs him at the waist again and flips him over, onto his back. He straddles Quinn’s thighs and pushes the sweatshirt halfway up his stomach, and then he just—looks. It’s maybe the best thing Nando has seen in his entire life. Quinn is hard, and some part of Nando will probably never get over the fact that he brings out this reaction in Quinn.
Nando drags a hand down Quinn’s stomach, lets his fingers ghost feather light over Quinn’s cock, over the lace.
“Say something,” Quinn says finally, and Nando realizes that he hasn’t, in fact, said anything for several minutes.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, stroking his palm over Quinn’s cock, feeling it twitch against him. “Quinn, baby, you—you’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Nando says, and Quinn blushes. “I love you so much,” he says, again, because he has to. He rubs harder against Quinn, and Quinn responds by arching up against his hand and letting his head fall back, exposing his neck. Nando leans forward and presses a kiss against the flushed skin, then opens his mouth and sucks a mark there. It’s winter, Quinn wears scarfs all the time anyway. Quinn moans, and Nando can’t help but preen a little. He is the cause of that moan.
Nando’s own dick is rock hard in his boxers, and he groans when his hips jerk down on their own accord, making him grind against Quinn’s thigh.
“What do you want, baby?” he asks, because seriously, Nando wants everything right now, he can’t decide, Quinn’s going to have to call the shots here. Quinn’s hands clench where he’s gripping Nando’s sides, and he draws in a sharp breath.
“You—your mouth, please,” Quinn says, almost whines.
“Yeah?” Nando works his way up Quinn’s neck with kisses, then finally reaches his mouth and kisses him properly. “You want me to suck you off?”
“Yes, fuck,” Quinn breathes out against Nando’s mouth, and okay, if Quinn’s already cursing, this won’t take long.
Well. It won’t take long the first time.
Nando kisses Quinn for another couple of seconds before he tears himself away and crawls down the bed again. Quinn is still wearing the sweatshirt, and Nando is in no hurry to take it off him, he loves seeing Quinn in his clothes.
He also loves seeing Quinn in lace panties, which was not something Nando expected to learn about himself, but he’s not sorry at all about that revelation. Quinn’s cock is straining against the purple lace, and it must be a boy model, because there seems to be more room for that than what Nando would’ve expected. He wonders if Quinn bought them the last time he was in Boston, or if he ordered them online, if he has more, and which colors, and—God, Nando is about to die.
He knows they will talk about this, later, so for now, he just bends down and presses a soft kiss to the tip of Quinn’s cock. Quinn draws a sharp breath, and when Nando glances to the side, he sees that his hands are gripping the sheets. Nando would absolutely love to drag this out for hours, but he’s too turned on, Quinn is too turned on, they actually need to sleep at some point, so in what should be considered an act of mercy, Nando pulls the front of the panties down enough to get Quinn’s cock out, then takes half of it in his mouth in one go.
“Fuck,” Quinn shouts, as if it’s been punched out of him. This is why they take advantage of hotel rooms.
Nando smiles, sinks further down, takes more of him in his mouth. After three years, he likes to consider himself an expert on sucking (Quinn’s) cock, and he really, really likes doing it. He loves the feeling of Quinn’s cock in his mouth, loves that he can render Quinn into this whimpering mess with just his mouth, loves that he can glance up and watch his reaction, loves when Quinn sometimes tangles his fingers in Nando’s curls and presses him down, never forcefully, but enough that Nando gets the hint. He even likes the taste, which wasn’t something he expected, but sure does make things a lot easier.
He likes it even more when Quinn is not fresh from the shower, like when they meet up after Quinn has had an intensive dance rehearsal. He hasn’t dared to say that out loud yet, though.
When Nando pulls off to breathe, Quinn whines. It’s such a difference from his normal, composed self, and Nando feels privileged that he gets to see it, gets to draw it out of him. He has to reach down and stroke himself a couple of times, just to take the worst of the edge off, and for the briefest of moments, he’s tempted to just kneel and jerk off until he comes all over Quinn. It passes when he takes Quinn’s cock back in his mouth. He swallows around him, takes more of him, and Quinn groans.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” Quinn pants, and Nando smiles around him. He slides his hands down Quinn’s thighs, grabs him behind the knees and pulls his legs up to rest on Nando’s shoulders. It gives him better access to grab Quinn’s ass, to run his palms over the lace there, and Quinn moans, jerks his hips up to fuck into Nando’s mouth.
It takes just another few seconds of enthusiastic sucking from Nando before Quinn’s hand settles on his neck, a sure sign that he’s close. Nando sucks harder, runs his tongue up the length, squeezes Quinn’s ass again, and that’s enough. Quinn grabs his neck harder, a warning, and Nando has no plans to pull off but appreciates it anyway, swallows easily as Quinn comes in his mouth, all while Quinn keeps up a steady stream of fuck and oh god.
He pulls off when Quinn tugs at the curls at the back of his neck and looks up to grin at him. He presses a kiss to the inside of Quinn’s thigh before he crawls up again, hovering over Quinn, covering him, as he bends down to kiss him.
Quinn kisses him back lazily, licks into his mouth, licks the taste of himself out of Nando’s mouth, and it probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
They stay like that for a while, but despite Nando’s fairly rigorous training routine, he still can’t hold himself up on his arms like this for long. He swings one leg over Quinn so he can kneel beside him, kisses Quinn one more time, then gets off the bed to grab the lube.
During their first spring together, when they started getting intimate, they’d gone to the student health center for STI testing. They’d both been clean, not that Nando hadn’t expected anything else, but his Mama didn’t raise no fool. They still use condoms sometimes, because cleanup is easier, but after some experimenting, they’d found they both enjoy the sloppy, filthy part of it. So Nando grabs the lube, no condom, and gets back on the bed.
“Flip over,” he says and takes off his underwear, Quinn doesn’t obey, instead he kneels on the bed and brings his arms up around Nando’s neck and angles his face up to kiss him. Nando wraps his arms around him and drags him closer, settles one hand on his ass and cups Quinn’s head with the other.
Quinn’s crotch rubs against Nando’s thigh, and his dick is still hanging out. It looks a tiny bit silly, but feels incredibly sexy, and Nando is so, so glad that multiple orgasms come easy for his boyfriend. It allows for situations like these, where he can suck him off and then fuck him, and it’s—amazing.
Nando moves his hand a little, puts his fingers against the crack of Quinn’s ass, presses gently against the lace, and—He draws a sharp breath and looks down at Quinn.
“Baby,” he says, unsure, and Quinn’s shy smile is answer enough. Nando is going to die. “Did you—Have you—All day?” Nando asks, incapable of complete sentences. Quinn nods. Him shying away from Nando’s touches all day suddenly makes sense. Nando quickly thinks through what they’ve been doing today and groans, then presses harder against the base of the plug that Quinn has had in his ass all fucking day. Through breakfast, the bus ride, the game, everything.
“How are you even real?” Nando asks and moves his hands so they’re inside the panties instead. He doesn’t allow Quinn to answer, kisses him instead, grabs the base of the plug and twists it.
Nando is ... well equipped. Quinn loves it, so it’s not an issue or anything, but it does require some preparation. Butt plugs aren’t a new thing for them, and Quinn has worn them for a longer period before, but during those times, they’ve both been in on it, and it’s been low-stakes situations like just hanging around campus or maybe during a home game. He’s never had one in for this long, in secret, while just going around his business.
“Okay, baby,” Nando murmurs, pressing another kiss to his lips before looking over Quinn’s shoulder, down his back, to where his hands are straining against the lace, pressed against Quinn’s ass. “God,” Nando breathes. He pulls down the waistband of the panties, settling it just below the curve of Quinn’s ass. When Quinn makes a motion as if to pull them off, Nando grips his ass harder. “No,” he says. “Leave them on.”
Quinn gives him a dirty smile, as if he isn’t the one wearing lingerie. Nando smacks his ass, once, and Quinn gasps and goes absolutely still. They rarely do that, because Nando isn’t really a fan, but Quinn loves it. Nando takes advantage of Quinn’s stillness to reach for the lube, then sucks another mark on his neck as he gives him another smack.
“Fuck,” Quinn moans, pressing against him, trying to get impossibly closer. “Baby, please.”
Nando presses soothing kisses against the mark he just made, simultaneously uncapping the lube and coating the fingers on one hand. With the other, he gently drags the plug out of Quinn’s ass. Quinn moans, and Nando kisses him, swallows the sound, even though he doesn’t really have to, here, in this room. He presses two fingers in, easily thanks to the plug, and god, Nando hopes he never gets used to this, never takes this for granted.
He adds another finger, and it’s only thanks to the fact that he’s so much bigger than Quinn that this position is even possible. He can’t actually fuck him in this position, though. Nando pushes Quinn away, gently, but can’t decide which way he wants him. Quinn on his back means he can keep the panties on, but Nando sort of wants to see his face.
Quinn, as always, seems to read the dilemma on his face. “I can wear them again,” he says, gently, as if that statement doesn’t break Nando’s brain. At least it helps him make up his mind.
“On your back,” he says, and Quinn grins at him as he obeys. He finally gets to take his underwear off, throws them carelessly onto the floor, spreads his legs.
Nando grabs the bottle of lube and moves to kneel between Quinn’s legs, again. It’s definitely one of his favorite places in the world. He lubes his dick, quickly, adds more lube to his fingers to press into Quinn with a couple of fast pumps. Lining up his cock with Quinn’s hole, he meets Quinn’s gaze, raises an eyebrow in silent question and gets a nod in return. Nando starts to push in, slowly. This part is always the hardest (hah), because there’s no getting around that Nando is big and Quinn is small and no matter how many times they do this, it’s not like his ass will stretch. Not that Nando would want it to, because this feels so good, but it wouldn’t exactly hurt if they could do it a little bit faster sometimes.
A minute later, Nando is fully inside of Quinn, and leans down to kiss him. He pauses there, waits patiently until Quinn moves his hips a little, fucking himself onto Nando’s cock. That’s when Nando moves back to kneeling between his legs, carefully pulling out almost all the way before pushing in again.
Quinn is still wearing the fucking sweatshirt, and if Nando’s brain wasn’t already broken, it would definitely break at the sight of him like this, with his head thrown back, throat exposed, one hand around his cock and the other clenched in the sheets until Nando reaches for it and tangles their fingers together. It’s such a soft gesture, feels at odds with what they’re currently doing, but it also feels right.
Little by little, Nando increases his pace, until he has to let go of Quinn’s hand and grab his hips to keep them steady. Quinn has his legs wrapped around Nando’s waist, his heels digging into Nando’s ass, and it’s—perfect. It’s perfect, perfect, perfect, Nando is so happy, lucky, turned on, in love, he’s going to explode.
He slips during a thrust, just a little, but enough to change the angle, and Quinn’s responding moan is obscenely loud.
“Fuck, oh my god, honey, god, keep—there, please,” he moans, begs, and Nando does his best to keep fucking him from the slightly different angle. He’s close, he has been close since Quinn got out of the bathroom dressed like that, and it’s not going to take a lot more for him to—
“Quinn, baby, I’m—,” he stutters, past being able to make sense, but Quinn gets it, of course he gets it. He clenches around Nando’s cock, jerks himself faster, brings his other hand down to stroke his balls. His fingertips brush against Nando’s dick and it’s like his fingers are made of electricity, the tiny touch sparks something deep inside of Nando and he just, it feels like he just combusts from within.
Nando is pretty sure his brain leaves him for a moment, because when he comes back to himself, he’s laying on top of Quinn, his face pressed against Quinn’s neck, his cock still inside him, and his breaths coming in heaving gasps. “Fucking hell,” he pants, and feels more than hears Quinn’s responding weak chuckle. He feels Quinn’s heavy breaths, feels his come sticking to his stomach and seeping into the sweater, feels the satisfaction that settles on both of them.
Quinn drags his hands out from between them and settles them on Nando’s back instead, and Nando doesn’t care that they’re sticky, he needs a shower anyway. Quinn does, too.
“I love you,” Nando says, turning his head to kiss Quinn, slow and indulgent, before he kneels up again to pull out.
“I, ah, I love you, too,” Quinn replies, grimacing a little.
“Sorry,” Nando whispers, but Quinn just smiles back at him. It’s par for the course, and it’s worth it.
Nando lies down beside Quinn and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. “Thank you,” he says, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s mouth, then another.
“For what?”
Nando shrugs. “For getting us this room. For being awesome. For ...” He trails off, glances quickly towards where Quinn threw the panties earlier, and Quinn grins, understanding.
“I take it you like them?” he says, aiming for innocence and failing completely.
“I love them. I love you,” Nando says, and he doesn’t even know how many times he’s said it tonight, but it can’t be too many because there’s no such thing. He grabs Quinn and rearranges them until Quinn is laying on top of him. Nando strokes his back through the sweater, slowly moves his hand further down until he’s cupping Quinn’s ass. He presses his fingers gently against Quinn’s hole, sticky with lube and Nando’s come, and can’t help but smile when Quinn hisses.
“Sebastián. I’m too tired,” he says, and Nando kisses the part of him closest to his mouth, which happens to be the top of Quinn’s ear.
“I know,” he says. He isn’t aiming for a third round, he just can never help himself with this, dreams of a day when he gets to just lay Quinn out on a bed and see how many orgasms he can give him, what Quinn will sound like at the end, how he will look, and okay, Nando needs to stop right now before he does want a third round. “I can’t wait until we get to do this every day,” he says, a smile on his face like there always is when he thinks about them living together.
“Every day?” Quinn replies, and Nando hears his smirk. “Sounds optimistic.”
“Oh shut up,” Nando says, pressing two fingers inside of Quinn just to spite him. “You know it will happen, at least in the beginning.”
“True,” Quinn concedes, obviously torn between tearing himself away from Nando’s teasing and just giving into it. Nando makes the decision for him, because they do really have to sleep. He drags his fingers out, wipes them on the sweater and then gently pushes Quinn off of him.
“I need to shower,” he says, stepping down onto the floor and holding out a hand to Quinn. “Wanna join?”
“Why yes, Mr Hernandez,” Quinn says, taking his hand. “I’d love to.”
FIC: Never In Your Wildest Dreams (Kurtbastian, NC-17)
This is an extremely late birthday present for colfhummel. Yes, I am ashamed. BP!Kurt and Sebastian in an established relationship. Sex. Nothing out of the ordinary. 4,2k. For full list of kinks and such, refer to ao3.
“So, your birthday is coming up,” Kurt says when they’re settled on the subway. They’re on their way to Sebastian’s friends Halloween party, dressed in semi-matching costumes and working hard on keeping their hands off of each other.
“Mhm. So?” Sebastian says, pressing his thigh closer against Kurt’s.
“So,” Kurt says, squeezing Sebastian’s hand. “What do you want? Do you want to do anything special, do you want a gift?”
Sebastian snorts and rearranges himself, slips his hand out of Kurt’s and slides his arm around Kurt’s waist instead. “No, I don’t want a gift. I don’t want to do anything.”
“Nothing? Really?”
“Yes, really. It’s no big deal.”
Kurt tries hard to keep his face in check and not let his surprise and shock show, but judging by Sebastian’s entertained expression, he’s failing.
“But...It’s your birthday,” Kurt tries to argue. He doesn’t have a better argument than that, though, and he hears how weak it sounds.
“Yeah. But I’m only turning twenty-two. It’s just another day.”
“But there’s gotta be something?” Kurt tries.
Sebastian leans in, puts his mouth so close to Kurt’s ear that his breath makes Kurt shiver. “Well, if you really want to give me something, you can let me fuck you.”
Kurt’s breath hitches and he shifts, his cheeks reddening. “How is that different than any other night?” he mutters, wary of the other people in the car.
“It isn’t. Which is the point. But I can promise you we’ll both enjoy it.”
Someone dressed up in a pretty accurate Iron Man costume enters the car just then, and Kurt takes the opportunity of the people’s focused attention to turn to Sebastian, lean into him and ask him in a low tone, “Okay, but do you have any...special requests, or something? Like...I don’t know. Bondage, or something?”
Sebastian looks at him, eyebrow raised. “Bondage?”
Kurt shrugs, trying to appear unaffected by having a conversation about kinks on the subway. “I don’t know? Spanking? Toys?”
“Kurt,” Sebastian says, but Kurt barrels on.
“Roleplaying? ‘Cause if you wanted to do like...vampires, or something, I’d be down with that.”
“Vampires?” Sebastian says, amused and not totally following, and Kurt clears his throat.
“Never mind. But I mean. We could do something special. If you want to.”
“Right now,” Sebastian hisses, shifting on his seat and pulling Kurt close to him, “I want you to stop talking, because otherwise we’ll have a situation.”
“What?” Kurt says, confused. Sebastian digs his fingers into Kurt’s thigh, through the thick wool of his coat.
“I know you don’t really have this problem, but you’re talking about sex, and I’m wearing really tight pants, and we haven’t fucked in two days.”
“That’s your fault, though,” Kurt points out, because he’s not the one who’s been holed up in his room studying for the past week. But he suddenly understands the problem, and smirks as he puts his hand on Sebastian’s thigh, squeezing tighter than what’s strictly necessary. “I like your stubble, by the way,” he says, voice back to normal. “Very fitting to your character.” Sebastian is dressed as a cop, because the oh-so original theme of the party is ‘Crime and Punishment’, and Sebastian isn’t known for his creativity. Kurt isn’t complaining, though, his boyfriend looks hot as hell in his outfit. He leans in close to Sebastian’s ear again. “And it’ll feel really good when you go down on me later.” Kurt hasn’t done a lot of exploration in his previous sexual relationships, but he knows that much, at least. Sebastian usually stays clean-shaven, and Kurt hasn’t pressed the issue, so they haven’t done that yet.
“Fuck you,” Sebastian mutters, taking a deep breath and crossing his legs.
“Mm, when we get back to your place,” Kurt says, and then stands up. Their stop is next.
“We can go back to my place right now,” Sebastian says, standing too and wrapping his coat tightly around himself with a pointed look at Kurt.
“No, come on. We have a party to go to.”
*
They manage to stay busy for a while, which mostly consists of Kurt slipping away as soon as he sees Sebastian approach him, just to get him to actually interact with his friends instead of dragging Kurt into a closet or something.
Around the two-hour mark, Sebastian finally succeeds, sneaking up behind Kurt when he’s looking at the drink table, trying to find something less vile than the drink that someone stuck in his hand before.
“Hello,” he says, straight into Kurt’s ear, making him shiver. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Yes,” Kurt agrees, leaning back in Sebastian’s embrace. “You’ve been talking about this for weeks, if I didn’t avoid you you’d just have dragged me into the bathroom for a blowjob or something.”
“That does sound like me,” Sebastian agrees, pressing his crotch against Kurt’s ass for a moment. “Come on.” He steps back and grabs Kurt’s hand, and before Kurt barely has a chance to react, he’s getting pulled through the crowd and into a bathroom.
“God, Sebastian, I wasn’t--I wasn’t serious, we can’t--” Kurt says, but Sebastian is already unzipping his pants, and Kurt falls silent.
“We can,” Sebastian says, grabbing Kurt’s ass and pulling him close. Sebastian’s pants are so tight that they haven’t even slipped down, but Kurt is only wearing leggings with a pair of briefs on top, so he can still feel Sebastian’s cock harden. “I’m pretty sure my friends expect nothing less.” He cups Kurt’s neck with one hand and kisses him, squeezes his ass with the other hand and smiles into the kiss when Kurt squeaks. “You running away from me all night has given me lot of opportunities to stare at your ass, at least,” he says, sounding pleased. Kurt huffs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t step back, just glances at the door to make sure it’s locked, then wraps his arms around Sebastian’s neck.
“Like what you see?”
“Mmm, you know I do.” Sebastian moves his mouth down to Kurt’s neck, presses light kisses against his skin, smiling when Kurt’s breath hitches. “What was that you said about vampires?”
“No-oh-nothing,” Kurt tries, but he still bends his neck and exposes more of his throat. Sebastian bites down, lightly at first, but when Kurt arches and presses his crotch against Sebastian’s, he bites down harder, scrapes his jaw against the bite.
“Shit, shit,” Kurt hisses, grabbing the hair on Sebastian’s neck. “Sebastian, I--work, I can’t--”
“Shh, it’s okay, just say it’s leftover makeup that you can’t get rid of,” Sebastian says, licking over the mark and then raising his head a bit to look at it.
“No one’s gonna buy that,” Kurt groans, raising himself up on his toes to look at himself in the mirror over Sebastian’s shoulder.
“Still hot, though,” Sebastian says with a grin, and Kurt blushes. He’s getting less prude, especially with alcohol in his system, but some things still get to him.
“Whatever,” he mumbles, and Sebastian kisses his mouth again.
“Were you serious about that blowjob?”
“Maybe,” Kurt says, teasingly, but he’s already sliding his hands down Sebastian’s back, down into his pants to pull them down. “I’ve been working the whole week, though,” he says, voice more serious. He works a hand around to Sebastian’s front, cupping his dick through his underwear. “I’m not gonna be down on my knees for long.”
“That’s--ah--that’s okay,” Sebastian breathes as Kurt slides his hand inside his underwear and starts jerking him off. “Very okay.”
“Good,” Kurt says, then kisses him to avoid further talk.
He jerks Sebastian with quick, efficient strokes, kissing him until Sebastian is breathing too hard, then he moves to his neck instead, kissing and sucking just hard enough not to leave a lasting mark. When Sebastian starts to fuck into Kurt's hand, Kurt eases his grip and gets down on his knees.
“This is disgusting,” Kurt says, wrinkling his nose as his knees touches the cold tile on the floor. It could definitely be worse, and it’s not rocket science to put a pair of black leggings in the laundry, but he’s still not too fond of kneeling on a bathroom floor that isn’t his own.
“I’ll buy you new pants,” Sebastian promises, grabbing Kurt’s neck and gently pulling him closer. “Just--yes,” he moans, exhaling when Kurt finally takes him in his mouth.
Kurt works him quickly, expertly, sucking the tip of Sebastian’s cock and jerking the rest of it with his hand. He wants to get him off, fast, so he does his best. Sebastian is moaning above him, and Kurt wants to tell him to keep it down, because the party outside isn’t that loud, but he also doesn’t want to let up, doesn’t want to stop sucking him off. Instead, he just quickens the pace, makes it sloppier than necessary, trying to ease the friction. Sebastian’s pants will get messier this way, but Kurt is the one on his knees, so he doesn’t really care. Sebastian isn’t complaining, either, he’s breathing hard and gripping Kurt’s neck with one hand, holding onto the sink behind him with the other.
“Fuck, baby, come on, that’s--” he pants, but Kurt pinches his thigh to get him to shut up and sucks hard around his cock. It doesn’t take much more than that before Sebastian comes, a tug on the hair at Kurt’s neck the only warning before he spills into his mouth, just enough that Kurt manages to swallow all of it. Sebastian hauls him up as soon as he lets go of his cock and kisses him, licking into his mouth, chasing the taste of himself.
It’s Kurt’s turn to moan, and he presses his fingers against his cunt through his pants, needing some kind of stimulation at this point.
“Getting tested was a really good decision,” Sebastian murmurs, licking his lips and glancing down between them. “Do you want any he--”
“Sebastian!” someone yells outside and bangs on the door. “Stop fucking your boyfriend and get out here!”
“I’m coming!” Sebastian shouts back.
“Sure you are,” the someone at the door says, in a much lower voice, but still audible.
“And I’m not,” Kurt mutters, taking a step back and pushing Sebastian away so he can look at his reflection. He doesn’t look too bad; his lips are undeniably swollen and there’s a blooming hickey on his neck, but knowing Sebastian, it could definitely be worse. At least he stayed away from Kurt’s hair this time.
Sebastian zips himself up and shoots Kurt a questioning glance, waiting until he gets a nod before he unlocks the door.
One of Sebastian’s classmates is standing outside, a big grin on his face. “You had a good time, I see,” he says, eyeing them both up and down. “You a slightly better one,” he adds with a nod towards Sebastian. “Good for you.” Kurt blushes at the implication, even though it’s true, and the guy winks at him, causing him to blush even harder.
“Stop flirting with my boyfriend,” Sebastian says, sliding one arm around Kurt possessively. “He’s taken.”
“Maybe he would reciprocate,” Kurt says pointedly, shifting on his feet. His arousal may not be as visible as Sebastian’s, but that doesn’t make it less annoying or persistent. It’s also harder to take care of, Kurt still hasn’t gotten the hang of masturbating while standing, and while it’s one thing to sneak off into the bathroom, it’s a whole different thing to sneak off into a bedroom. If nothing else, it’s really tacky.
“Aw, baby,” Sebastian murmurs in his ear. “I promise I’ll take really good care of you when we get home.”
“Stop it,” the other guy says over his shoulder, walking away. “You can fuck later, we have a pool tournament going on.”
“Later,” Sebastian echoes to Kurt, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hip before letting go, leaving Kurt by the drink table where he picked him up and disappearing up the stairs. Kurt sighs, tries to abandon all sexy thoughts from his mind, and turns to talk to the guy standing next to him. He’s going to be here for awhile, he might as well try to enjoy it.
*
“How much do your friends actually know about our sex life?” Kurt asks when they’re finally on the subway back. It’s louder now, and he’s got a bit of alcohol in his system, so he isn’t as worried about people hearing them as he was before.
“Enough,” Sebastian replies with a smirk. “They know that it’s really, really good. And frequent. They really don’t know...” he trails off, not even looking at Kurt anymore. Kurt follows his gaze and sees someone dressed in high heels, fishnet stockings, and a jacket that’s most definitely from the men’s department. Also, they have a beard. When Kurt looks back at his boyfriend, though, Sebastian still seems focused on the legs.
“See something you like?” Kurt says, and Sebastian jerks, snapping his eyes to Kurt again.
“What? No. I mean. No,” he says quickly, and Kurt has to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud.
There had been a few guys in skirts at the party, and Kurt had seen Sebastian eyeing them. Kurt knows he’s got great legs and a great ass, knows Sebastian loves it when he wears tight pants to show it off. He also knows Sebastian would never dare to ask this of him, to wear something so blatantly female-coded, not considering Kurt’s history, or their history.
It may be the lingering buzz talking, or the fact that he’s still horny as hell, but Kurt finds himself surprised by how okay he actually feels by the prospect of dressing up like that for Sebastian.
“Mhm, sure,” he says eventually, but he doesn’t push it. Maybe getting his boyfriend a birthday present won’t be so hard, after all...
*
“I need you to fuck me,” Kurt breathes between kisses, arching up against Sebastian when he gets pressed back into the door of Sebastian’s dorm room. “Right now.”
“Patience,” Sebastian mutters back, but he works his hands inside Kurt’s shirt and pulls it up, exposing Kurt’s stomach, flicking his nipples.
“I’ve been patient for hours,” Kurt says, pushing Sebastian away and letting his feet touch the floor again. “And you didn’t have to be patient at all.” He drags his shirt over his head and pulls down his leggings and underwear in one go, then flops backwards onto Sebastian’s bed, ignoring how it creaks under his weight. “Please?” he adds with smile, sliding one hand between his legs, finally getting to touch himself.
“Fuck,” Sebastian swears, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and then pulls it over his head. “Well, I did promise to eat you out, right?” He grabs Kurt’s knees and rearranges him on the bed so he can kneel between his legs. “Shit, you’re really worked up,” he says when he gets a good look at Kurt’s pussy. It’s swollen with arousal and wet around the opening and where Kurt has managed to smear it so far. Sebastian reaches out with his own hand and drags his fingertips from the top of the patch of hair, between his pussy lips, and down over his ass.
“Yes,” Kurt says through gritted teeth, spreading his legs pointedly. “And it’s your fault, so just fucking--do--ah,” he cuts himself off when Sebastian bends down and drags his tongue along the same line he trailed his fingers. “Fuck,” Kurt breathes out, reaching down to put his hand on the back of Sebastian’s head.
Sebastian smiles against him and opens his mouth wider, making sure to drag his stubbly jaw against Kurt, pressing harder when Kurt gasps and then easing off when Kurt tugs his hair. “You like that?” he asks, licking in broad strokes. “I like this.”
“What do you think?” Kurt replies, breathless with arousal.
“I think you like it, too,” Sebastian says, then takes Kurt’s clit between his lips, sucking on it. Kurt’s hips are shaking with the effort of trying not to buck up and knock Sebastian over. Sebastian notices and smiles up at him, then slides two fingers into Kurt's pussy without taking his mouth off of his clit.
“Just fuck me,” Kurt moans, clenching around his fingers. “Come on, I need your--” He doesn't have to finish, because Sebastian is already climbing off the bed to remove his pants. He throws them on a chair, then he grabs Kurt’s legs and drags him across the sheet, until his ass is almost hanging over the edge of the mattress.
“Okay?” he asks, checking to make sure, even though he’s fairly certain Kurt wouldn’t urge him on before he was. Kurt’s short nod confirms it, and Sebastian grabs his cock, lining himself up with Kurt’s pussy. A second’s pause to draw a breath, then he pushes in, slowly while exhaling. Kurt moans low beneath him, sounding relieved at finally being filled again.
It turns Sebastian on like mad.
He pulls almost all the way out, then pushes in again, faster this time, and he feels Kurt relax under him, succumbing to just taking it. His pussy is still clenching around Sebastian’s cock, and Sebastian doesn’t understand how he does that, but he’s not complaining, he’s so not complaining because it feels absolutely amazing, he never wants it to end, he wants more, just--
“Harder,” Kurt says, interrupting Sebastian’s train of thought. His body is tensing up again, as if he’s coming back to himself, and he reaches up to grab Sebastian’s hips, pulling him down against him hard and moaning when he’s all the way in. “Yeah, come on,” Kurt urges, pushing at Sebastian’s hips to make him do it again. Sebastian makes an annoyed sound and grabs Kurt’s wrists, moves them from his hips to the mattress, presses them there and effectively pressing himself closer to Kurt. He’s still standing on the floor, so he can’t use as much force, which has Kurt whining in objection.
“You’re so greedy,” Sebastian murmurs, pulling out and pushing at Kurt until he’s laying properly on the bed, then Sebastian climbs on and kneels between his legs again. “So fucking horny for it tonight.” He slides his cock back into Kurt’s pussy, harder now when he’s in a better position, and god it feels so good, he wants to do this forever.
Sebastian bends down over Kurt, kisses him hard and sloppy, more a mashing of lips than anything else. It gives him less leverage, with his chest pressed against Kurt’s, and Kurt objects noisily, whining into Sebastian’s mouth and pressing himself up against him.
“Alright,” Sebastian murmurs against Kurt’s mouth. “I hear you.” He leans back again, slips out in the process, rolls his eyes at Kurt’s resulting whine. “Calm down, baby,” he says, grabbing Kurt’s thighs and raising them, spreading them, then slides in again. New angle, new force, another rhythm. Kurt is breathing hard beneath him, moving one hand down to rub his clit, and then--CRACK!
They both freeze, Sebastian still deep inside Kurt and Kurt with his fingers on his clit. They stare at each other, and then Kurt shifts, and something clatters to the floor under the bed.
“Did you just fuck me so hard we broke the bed?” Kurt asks eventually, putting his feet down on the bed and removing his hand when it becomes clear that Sebastian isn’t continuing.
“Uhm,” Sebastian says, because it seems like it, but that’s absurd. “Maybe?” he says, looking at his boyfriend questioningly, and Kurt starts to laugh. After a beat, Sebastian can’t help but join in, because they broke the bed, that’s an actual thing that just happened. He pulls out of Kurt and lies down beside him, can’t stop laughing at this point, and whenever they look at each other it just brings on a new wave of laughter.
“Oh my god,” Kurt says finally, when he’s run out of laughter and is working on catching his breath. “We broke the bed.”
“It’s a shitty dorm bed,” Sebastian says, not willing to give themselves all the credit.
“Still,” Kurt says. He wiggles around a little, trying out if the bed still holds up. Nothing creaks, and they don’t fall through. The movement makes his thigh brush against Sebastian’s dick and he hisses, he’s still half-hard despite everything. “Make me come and I’ll bring you off, too?” Kurt whispers, looking at Sebastian and flushing.
Like Sebastian would ever say no to that.
He crawls down the bed and settles between Kurt’s legs again, digs his fingers into Kurt’s thighs with a purpose and smiles when he hears Kurt’s gasp. His pussy is even more swollen than before, now, his lips red and his hole gaping. Sebastian puts his mouth against him and slides his tongue in, without warning, and Kurt moans, arches up against him, almost knocking Sebastian’s teeth. Sebastian smiles again, can’t help it, and rearranges himself so that he can deal with Kurt moving. He gently presses his stubbly chin against Kurt’s flushed, sensitive flesh, not to tease this time, just to increase, and Kurt’s breath stutters, tiny, high-pitched whimpers escape his throat as he clutches the sheets and writhes on the bed, trying to get himself both closer and further away from Sebastian’s mouth.
Sebastian’s cock is back to full hardness now, rarely is anything else when he has his mouth on Kurt, and he moves one hand down to wrap it around himself, despite Kurt’s promise to take care of him. He drags his other hand down to slide two fingers inside Kurt, gets rewarded with a breathy string of Oh god yes there, fuck, please, that feels good, and tries to fold himself into a position that won’t end up with his arm cramping. They won’t be like this for long, though, Sebastian is close, jerking his cock even faster, and Kurt’s breathing is more like a series of hard gasps punctured by small whines, the way it always gets when Kurt’s close to coming.
“Come on,” Sebastian murmurs, crooking his fingers and moving his mouth to suck at Kurt’s clit. A little more, just a little more, just--Kurt clenches around him and moans, too loud for Sebastian’s dorm, but none of them care, Sebastian just keeps licking him through it, keeps sucking and fucking him with his fingers, all while fucking into his own fist. Kurt vaguely realizes what he’s doing, because he brings a hand down and threads his fingers in Sebastian’s hair, pulls slightly while digging his fingers into Sebastian’s scalp, and yeah, that’s enough. Sebastian comes, spurting onto the sheets, burying his face in Kurt’s thigh while he rides it out, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
Seconds or minutes later, Sebastian isn’t sure, he crawls up the bed again to wrap himself around Kurt and kiss him.
“We need to shower,” Kurt says, but not with a lot of convincing.
“No,” Sebastian says, wiping his hand on the sheet beside Kurt. “‘S all down there,” he adds, waving his hand. Kurt makes a sound somewhere between disgusted and amused.
“You’re disgusting,” he says, but Sebastian can hear him smiling.
“You love me anyway,” he says, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s shoulder.
“I do,” Kurt agrees. A beat of silence, then, “We broke the bed.”
If Sebastian was less tired, he’d break into a fit of laughter again. As it is, he just tightens his grip around Kurt’s waist in agreement.
*
Sebastian wakes up to an eyeful of Kurt’s ass. It’s far, far from the worst sight he’s ever woken up to, but it’s still a bit unusual.
“Mrghm,” he says, and Kurt turns from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed to look at him.
“Hey,” he says, smiling. “How’re you feeling?”
His head hurts a bit, but as far as hangovers go, this one is mild. “I’m okay,” he says. Then he remembers. “Did we really--”
“--Break the bed last night?” Kurt finishes for him. “Yeah.” He sounds oddly proud, and Sebastian can’t help but smile back at him. Then he leans forward and presses a kiss to Kurt’s ass cheek, because, how can he resist? Kurt stiffens for a second but then relaxes, bringing one hand back to stroke Sebastian’s cheek.
“What are you doing up?” Sebastian asks. “Thought you didn’t have work until afternoon.”
“I don’t. I was just looking up the closest hardware store,” Kurt replies, waving his phone.
“Why?”
“Because I am going to go there and get stuff to fix the bed, and you are going to get us breakfast in the meantime.”
“You know how to do that?” Sebastian asks, surprised.
Kurt shrugs. “Sure. I’ll get a plank to replace the one we broke, and then some stuff to secure the other ones. Cheaper than buying a new bed.”
“Handy,” Sebastian says, pressing another kiss to Kurt’s ass for approval, lingering a bit this time.
“And for your birthday, I’m getting us a hotel room so you can fuck me hard without worrying about roommates, or beds breaking, or having to wash the sheets.”
Sebastian grabs Kurt’s arm and drags him down so he can kiss him. “That sounds amazing,” he says sincerely. Kurt smiles against his mouth.
“Maybe I’ll even dress up. Stockings, high heels. Would you mind?”
They don’t get up for another two hours, and Kurt is almost late for work, without having fixed Sebastian’s bed, but Sebastian would still call it a very successful morning.
sammyshutyourcakehole said: thallen: meeting the parents+moving in together? do it! :)
Eddie has already met Joe, he works with Joe, and he’s already met him in the...meeting the parents aspect. Which, with Iris, never got better than ‘seriously awkward’. Eddie has some sort of hope for the introduction of him as Barry’s boyfriend will go better, what with the whole not being his real parent thing, but that goes right down the drain on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.
“Are you sure?” Eddie gasps, bending his head to give Barry better access to his neck, ignoring how the door handle presses into his back. “Because it would be really--fuck--really awkward if he--”
“Eddie,” Barry interrupts, lifting his mouth from Eddie’s skin. “Stop talking about Joe when I’m trying to kiss you.”
“Yeah, okay,” Eddie agrees readily. “But can we move from the front door?”
Barry shoots him a grin, and the next second, Eddie finds himself laying flat on his back in Barry’s bed.
“I promise,” Barry says, kneeling on the bed, straddling Eddie’s legs, “that Joe is out, and that he’ll be out for long enough for me to blow you, and get back to the station, and he won’t know a thing.”
“What happened to not talking about him?” Eddie says, smiling up at him and grabbing the collar of his shirt.
“Shut up,” Barry smiles back, kissing him. Between them, they get naked pretty fast, and when Eddie has Barry on his back, naked, the low winter sun shining through the window making his skin glow, he wishes they could stay like this forever. He wishes they didn’t have to keep this a secret, wishes they could make time for more than these hurried, secret sessions when Joe is at the gym.
He wishes Iris wasn’t still living at his apartment, sleeping on the couch until she finds her own place (because going back to live with her dad and pseudo-brother would be weirder than still living with her ex, apparently).
When Barry flips them over again and starts kissing down Eddie’s chest, all he wishes is that he doesn’t stop.
Until the front door closes, that is. Barry freezes, his mouth hovering over Eddie’s cock, and when he glances up, guilt is written all over his face. “It’s the first Tuesday of the month, right?” he says, sounding like he knows the answer to that question very well.
“Yes,” Eddie sighs, relaxing onto the bed, dragging a hand through his hair. “It is.”
“I’m sorry,” Barry says, climbing up the bed again and laying down beside him.
“Yeah. What do we do now?” Eddie asks, grabbing Barry’s hand and tangling their fingers.
“Stay silent and wait until he leaves again?” Barry suggest, twisting himself until he’s laying half on top of Eddie.
“Barry!” Joe calls from downstairs. Barry winces, presses his lips together. “Care to explain why your jacket is on the floor...along with Eddie’s jacket?”
“Oh fuck,” Barry groans, burying his face in Eddie’s bare shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Really, truly sorry.”
Eddie heaves a deep sigh. “It was bound to happen sooner or later,” he says.
“Later would’ve been good.”
There’s a knock on the door, and they both jerk. “Uuuuh,” Barry says, scrambling to get his clothes on. “You really don’t want to open that door, believe me,” he says, and Eddie groans.
“Way to be subtle,” he says, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining Joe trying to hold his laughter on the other side of the door.
“Just...meet me downstairs when you’re decent,” Joe sighs, and puts a lot more weight than usual in his steps when he walks away and down the stairs.
“This is gonna be awkward, isn’t it?” Eddie says, taking the shirt Barry throws at him.
“Yeah.”
When they come down the stairs, Joe is sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper.
“You forgot it was the first Tuesday, didn’t you?” he asks, without looking up.
“Yeah,” Barry sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Joe folds the paper and leans back on the chair, crossing his arms. Eddie opens his mouth but Barry steps on his foot.
“So, how long has this been going on, then?” Joe asks, glancing between them.
“Uhm. A month. Or, two. Three, possibly?” Barry says.
“Are you telling me or asking me?”
“Uhm. Telling?”
“You sure about that?”
“Look, Joe, we’re--” Barry starts, but Eddie’s phone beeps and both he and Joe turn to look at him. Eddie reads the text and shows his phone to Barry. “We’re not gonna bother you here in the future, apparently, because Iris got an apartment!”
“Are you moving in together?” Joe asks, genuinely surprised now.
“No,” Barry says, at the same time as Eddie says, “Maybe.”
If Joe had a hairline, his eyebrows would be touching it. “Sounds like you two have some things to talk about,” he says.
“Yeah...” Barry and Eddie say in unison, turning to each other, Barry looking confused but happy and Eddie just looking confused.
“You know,” Joe says, standing up. “I know who you are, and we’ve already been through this with Iris. Plus, this time, the one you’re with has actual superpowers.” He pats Eddie on the back as he passes, and Eddie gives Barry a smile that’s completely terrified.
“I’ll use them to save you,” Barry says, as if that’s the issue.
“Thanks,” Eddie says dryly.
“See you both at work,” Joe calls from the front door, and then he’s out.
“So...,” Eddie says, sitting down at the couch. “We need to talk.”
*
They do move in together a month later.
But it’s when Barry sets Eddie down in the living room, actually vibrating with nerves, telling him that he wants Eddie to meet his dad, that Eddie understands that Barry is in this for real.
-----
(Barry meeting Eddie’s parents is not a pleasant affair on any level. It’s abundantly clear from the first second that they prefer Iris to Barry, and Barry can’t really blame them, he’d take Iris over himself any day, too, but they’re rude. They’re perfectly nice to Eddie, so it can’t be a bisexual thing, it’s just...a Barry thing.
Eddie takes Barry’s side though, which is nice. They leave dinner before dessert, and Barry accidentally-on-purpose hears Eddie tell his mom off for being rude, then ending the call by saying that he can’t talk because he’s going to have sex with his boyfriend.
FIC: These Moments Are the Only Gifts We Need (Kurtbastian, PG-13)
I’ve been listening to Foundations for like the third time, so this was bound to happen. It’s sappy Christmas fluff. All I know about hospitals I’ve learned from Grey’s Anatomy, sorry about that. ~1,9k. on ao3.
Since Kurt doesn’t have a sixth sense, he doesn’t immediately notice that something is wrong when he gets home. He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t register the lack of greeting from Sebastian until he’s rid himself of his coat and shoes and walks into the living room. Sebastian is curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on his blanket-clad thighs, and it takes Kurt a moment to recognize the sound of the acoustic covers playlist. Sebastian’s go-to comfort music. Sebastian, who should be packing, not sitting on the couch staring at his computer.
“Hey,” he says, again, and Sebastian looks up at him. He looks tired, and worn. Kurt makes his way over to the couch and sits down next to him, places a hand on Sebastian’s knee cautiously.
“Hey,” Sebastian replies, eventually.
“What--did something happen?” Kurt asks, confused and a tiny bit hurt, because he usually knows if he’s coming home to a scene like this, because Sebastian usually calls him if something happens.
Sebastian lets out a humorless laugh and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. You could say that.” He puts the computer on the coffee table and turns so he’s sitting beside Kurt, drapes the blanket over both of them. “I have to work,” he says. “Over the holidays.”
“What? But we’re--”
“I’m not,” Sebastian interrupts him. “I’m not going back home tomorrow. I can’t. Half of the interns are down with that three-day stomach bug, and almost everyone who wasn’t scheduled has already gone home.”
“But...” Kurt starts, but falters. He’s not an idiot, he knows staffing a hospital is more important than celebrating Christmas, but...still. “I’m sorry,” he says instead, reaching for Sebastian’s hand and tangling their fingers.
Kurt has grown increasingly unsentimental with Christmas during the years, doesn’t really have any reason to celebrate it when it’s just his dad and Carole left, but for Sebastian it’s a whole other deal. He has a big family, with siblings and cousins and nephews and nieces and more people than Kurt can count, and Sebastian loves spending Christmas with them. They were supposed to do like last year, spend Christmas Eve and Boxing Day with Kurt’s parents, and Christmas Day with Sebastian’s family, but apparently that’s not happening this year.
“I guess I had it coming,” Sebastian says bitterly, picking at a loose thread at the edge of the blanket. “I have been getting Christmas off for the last three years.”
“But you have been working both Thanksgiving and New Year’s to compensate,” Kurt says pointedly, because for him, the lack of Sebastian has been very obvious during those holidays.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. You can still--I mean, I have a 48-hour shift starting tomorrow night, I won’t be home anyway, so you can--you can go. If you want to.”
Two years ago, possibly even one year ago, when they’d just moved in together, Kurt probably would have. But now? Kurt knows he will feel bad going home to celebrate the holidays, to be fed and warm and comfortable, while Sebastian comes home to an empty apartment late on Christmas Day. Kurt can take spending Christmas alone if it means Sebastian won’t have to do it.
Their tickets are non-refundable, and they have a ton of gifts in the hallway closet for Sebastian’s family, but that can wait.
“No, I’m staying,” Kurt says, sliding down on the couch so he can rest his head against Sebastian’s shoulder.
“Yeah?” Sebastian says, and Kurt hears the badly concealed hope in his voice.
Kurt nods. “Yes. Is there any ice cream left?”
Sebastian squeezes his hand. “There’s another tub in the freezer.”
“Good.”
*
Sebastian loves his job, but sometimes, just sometimes, he asks himself why the hell he ever thought medicine was a good career path.
9.14am on Christmas Day is one of those times. It’s hour 37 of his 48-hour shift, and while he hasn’t been awake for all those hours, it certainly feels like he has. He’s been thrown up on three times, has been kicked in the stomach by an aggressive five year old, and hasn’t eaten nowhere near enough solid food. He also hasn’t showered enough, which, when he sneaks in a sniff on his scrubs, he should probably go do. Now. He just has to gather enough energy to move from where he’s resting against the nurses station.
“Hey, stranger,” comes a warm, familiar voice from behind, and Sebastian spins around so fast that he smashes his elbow into the counter.
“Kurt! Ow, fuck. Shit. That hurt.”
Kurt chuckles and steps closer. He leans in, wrinkles his nose when he gets close enough and presses a quick kiss to Sebastian’s lips before taking a step back. “Merry Christmas. You smell,” he says, and Sebastian huffs out a dry laugh.
“Yeah, I know.” He lets his gaze roam over Kurt, his cold-flushed cheeks, his wind-swept hair, his elegant coat and thigh jeans. And-- “Is that coffee?” Sebastian asks when he sees what Kurt is holding.
Kurt hands him the mug and a paper bag, both emblazoned with the Starbucks logo. Sebastian has a fairly good idea of what’s inside, and when he peeks, his guess is correct. It’s his favorite sandwich and a gingerbread muffin. Combined with real coffee, not the crap he’s been settling with for the last hours. “I love you. A lot,” he says, still with his eyes in the paper bag, and Kurt laughs.
“I’m not sure if you’re talking to me or the food, but I take it this was a good idea.”
“The best idea,” Sebastian says, putting the mug and bag on the counter. He wants to hug Kurt, but he still smells.
“I have a surprise for you,” Kurt says, smiling the way he does before he surprises Sebastian in bed, but he has a feeling that’s not what’s happening right now.
“Oh? Better than you showing up here like a godsend with solid food and real coffee?”
“I don’t know about better, but...” Kurt trails off and takes a step to the side, motioning to further down the corridor. Sebastian follows his hand and feels his jaw drop when he sees Burt, standing next to Carole and...
“Sophie?!” Sebastian exclaims, loud enough for the people around him to turn and stare. Sebastian has a hard time caring about them right now, though, because his big sister is standing here, at his job, on Christmas morning.
She’s grinning as she makes her way over, and when she’s close enough, Sebastian doesn’t care that he still smells, he throws his arms around her and hugs her hard.
“Merry Christmas, Sebby,” she says when they part, and Sebastian grimaces at the nickname, causing her to grin again.
“But...how?” he says, looking between Kurt, Sophie, and Kurt’s parents.
“Honestly, I wasn’t too keen on celebrating this year since, well,” she makes a gesture, indicating the breakup with her longterm boyfriend three weeks ago, “and Kurt knew, so when his parents decided to drive, he called and said they could pick me up and take me along.”
Sebastian looks between Kurt and Kurt’s parents again. “You...what?” he says, astounded.
Kurt slips his hand into Sebastian’s and tugs him closer. “Dad called me just when you’d gone to work and said they’d drive up. I suggested they take Sophie, too. They arrived yesterday.”
“But I talked to you yesterday,” Sebastian says, not really comprehending. He had called Kurt sometime during the afternoon yesterday, when he’d had a few moments of peace and quiet. Kurt hadn’t said anything.
The bedroom smile again. “Like I said, surprise,” Kurt says. Sebastian leans in to kiss him, smell be damned, but just then, his pager goes off. He checks it and sighs deeply, gives Kurt a quick kiss anyway, then grabs his coffee. It’s a decent temperature, so he gulps down half of it.
“Ellie, keep this safe for me?” he says, addressing the nurse who’s been watching them with an unembarrassed smile the whole time. She nods and takes his coffee and food and puts them under the desk while Sebastian turns around to face his family again.
“I have to go,” he says.
“We kind of figured,” Kurt says with a wry smile. “Go, save lives. We’ll see you tonight.”
When Sebastian wanders off down the corridor, he feels a lot better than he did ten minutes ago.
*
It’s late when Sebastian gets home, later than it should be. He’s not surprised, but a little disappointed, when the apartment is silent and the only one present is Kurt, curled up on the couch with a sketch pad in his lap.
“You’re late,” Kurt says, but he doesn’t sound mad.
“Yeah, but I said I would be,” Sebastian says. He wants to sit down on the couch, but he knows that if he does, he’s going to fall asleep, and he needs to shower. Again.
Kurt looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes I did. I texted you. There was a traffic accident, so I texted you.”
“Sebastian, I didn’t get a text,” Kurt says, and he still sounds fond rather than exasperated, but Sebastian is getting annoyed. He texted, he knows he did. He grabs his phone and pulls up the conversation with Kurt. “Oh.”
He hold out the phone to Kurt, showing that he wrote the text alright, but he forgot to actually send it. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, but Kurt just smiles.
“It’s okay. Not like we had any plans. You want dinner? Carole cooked, there’s loads in the fridge.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “No. I need to shower, and sleep. I’ll eat tomorrow.” He stretches, and is just about to do just that, when he freezes. “Where are the others?” Their apartment only has one bedroom, and Sebastian is pretty sure the three of them are not cuddled up together in there.
“Jenny’s apartment,” Kurt replies, pointing to the apartment above theirs. That’s right. They have the key, and Jenny is out of town. “Parents on the fold-out and Sophie in the bed.”
“Oh. Okay.” He stands still for a few seconds, trying to remember what he was supposed to do, and then Kurt’s hand on his brings him back.
“Are you gonna be able to shower or do you want me to help you?” he asks, and he’s only half-joking.
“Well,” Sebastian says, grabbing Kurt’s hand to pull him up and around the couch. “I’m pretty sure I can handle it, but I never say no to having my boyfriend joining me in the shower.”
“Mm, good,” Kurt says, sliding his arms around Sebastian and kissing him. “How long are you going to sleep tomorrow?”
“Forever, probably,” Sebastian replies, because it feels like the truth. “Why?”
Kurt smiles, then kisses him right below the ear. “Just wondering if we have time to fuck before they come down for breakfast,” he says, his voice pitched low, and despite Sebastian’s total weariness, his dick still makes an interested move.
“For that, I’ll allow you to wake me up,” he says, and reaches down to squeeze Kurt’s ass. “Tomorrow.”
“Technically today, but okay,” Kurt says and starts walking towards the bathroom.
*
“Thank you,” Sebastian says when they’re in bed half an hour later. “For today. Despite--”
“Shh,” Kurt hushes. “It’s okay. You’re welcome. I love you.”
Sebastian is slightly obsessed, and Kurt is not amused.
written a while ago, but posted today in honor of the four release! also on ao3.
If Sebastian was to make a list of all their arguments, he’s pretty sure that at least half of them have stemmed from laundry. This one is no exception.
Kurt is at the laundromat and reluctantly set Sebastian in charge of putting on new sheets on the bed, simply because he won’t have time to do it until he gets home, late. Because of reasons, this is the first time Sebastian gets to make the bed, and he seizes the opportunity. He digs deep into his closet, brings out the sheets that probably has a slightly lower thread count than what Kurt prefers, but his boyfriend will just have to deal.
He honestly doesn’t expect quite the reaction he gets. Kurt drops off the laundry when it’s done, then departs just as quickly, and doesn’t get home until after eleven. Sebastian doesn’t get off the couch until Kurt yells at him from the bedroom.
Sebastian gets up, a bit hesitant, thinking he probably folded Kurt’s shirts the wrong way when he put them away, and shuffles into the bedroom.
“What?” He doesn’t see any clothes on the floor, so it’s probably not a folding issue.
“What the hell is this?” Kurt says, pointing to the bed, where the boys from One Direction are smiling at them.
“A bed...our bed...with fresh sheets on it? Like you asked me to?”
“I--they’re--they’re One Direction sheets!”
“Babe, I don’t know how you missed it, but this guy here--” Sebastian points to himself, “--is quite a big fan.” It’s not a secret that Sebastian has an unreasonably big obsession with the boy band phenomenon, and Kurt should be aware of that by now, given that he’s come home to Sebastian watching This Is Us more than once.
“That doesn’t mean I want them in my bed!”
“Our bed,” Sebastian corrects, pointedly. Kurt’s expression just hardens.
“I’m not sleeping in this bed,” he says.
“Fine, then don’t,” Sebastian replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know where the couch is.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!” Kurt grabs the pillow not emblazoned with the 1D logo and stomps out of the bedroom, leaving Sebastian staring at the wall.
“Okay, then,” he says, looking down at the covers. “Guess it’s just you and me tonight.”
*
“There, there, that’s--god, yes, that’s it--” Kurt is rambling, and Sebastian shuts him up by moving his mouth from Kurt’s neck to his mouth.
“Mm, wanna move to the bedroom?” Sebastian asks, squeezing Kurt’s ass where he’s straddled over Sebastian’s lap.
“Yes,” Kurt breathes, grinding down. “Please.”
Sebastian lifts Kurt off his lap and stands up, then pulls Kurt against him and kisses him again. He backs him through the hallway to the bedroom, then pushes him down on the bed. Kurt looks down at the sheets and grimaces, but he doesn’t protest, not verbally. “Come on, fuck me,” he says, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down his legs.
Sebastian has no objections to that, at all.
*
“I think we need to change the sheets,” Kurt says, his breathing still quite not back to normal. Sebastian shifts, and winces when he puts his ass in a wet spot.
“This was your plan, wasn’t it?” he mutters, sitting up and turning on the lamp on the nightstand. He looks down at the bed and assesses the damage. There’s come and lube stains all over the fabric, somehow both on the cover and the bottom sheet, and when he glances over at Kurt, he doesn’t look sorry at all.
“Maybe,” Kurt admits, confirming Sebastian’s suspicions that using that much lube wasn’t really an accident. He sighs and slaps Kurt’s ass, making him yelp and jump off the bed, then throws the covers off the bed and onto the floor.
“You can change them,” Sebastian says, ripping off the sheet, too. “Since I did most of the work.” Kurt walks around the bed and puts his hands on Sebastian’s chest, leaning up to kiss him.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he says, bending down to take the bedding into his arms. It puts his ass on display, and Sebastian doesn’t bother to hide his stare.
“I really am.”
*
They’re not supposed to do laundry for at least another week, but the next day, Sebastian grabs the sheets from the laundry bag and walks down to the laundromat while Kurt is at the library. He has googled the best ways to get the stains out, and he ignores the side-eyeing he gets from two girls and one dude at the laundromat. He also ignores the other dude who grins and gives him a thumbs up.
There’s a reason why Kurt is the one doing the laundry, but this time, Sebastian reads all the instructions carefully. He stays at the laundromat for both the washing and drying cycle, catching up on his econ reading, and when the dryer is done, he inspects the sheets carefully. No stains. Win. He puts the sheets back deep in his closet when he gets home, away from Kurt’s prying, and hopes that one day he’ll get another chance to use them.
*
The problem with being two students living in New York is that they’re often tight on money. Between Kurt’s rather high requirements for bedding, and the amount of messy sex they have, they go through their bedding at a rate that’s probably higher than normal. That, combined with their lack of time to do laundry, means that they run out of sheets sometimes. Usually, Kurt manages to divert a crisis by rescheduling, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out.
“As much as it pains me to ask,” Kurt says, keeping his eyes closed as he leans against the fridge, not-watching Sebastian chop vegetables for dinner, “Where are your One Direction sheets?”
“Why are you asking?” Sebastian asks, looking up at Kurt but not lowering the knife.
“We’re out of clean sheets,” Kurt says, still not opening his eyes. “And I have that Shakespeare essay I need to finish tonight.”
“They’re in my closet. Top shelf, behind my swim gear.”
“I’m changing them as soon as I have time to do laundry!” Kurt calls as he walks back into the bedroom.
“Love you, too, babe!” Sebastian calls back, then goes back to chopping with a smile. Even one night beside Kurt and beneath Zayn is one more than he expected in a long while.
*
“What is your problem with these sheets, anyway?” Sebastian asks later, when they’re in bed.
“They’re creepy,” Kurt replies, sliding his arm around Sebastian’s waist. “Why do you even have them?”
“They’re comfortable.” Kurt makes an objective noise at that, and Sebastian pinches him lightly. “And it’s...I don’t know. A fun thing. And now they’re vintage.”
Kurt snorts at that. “Vintage? They’ve released their fourth album in four years, none of their merchandise is vintage.”
“I stood in line to buy them and now they’re only available second hand on ebay. Vintage or not, they’re at least exclusive.”
“You are so weird,” Kurt murmurs, kissing his way down Sebastian’s neck.
“Mhm,” Sebastian mumbles back, arching his neck. “We have clean sheets and you got to finish your essay, so you shouldn’t complain.”
“Still creepy. I’m sleeping under a bunch of teenagers.”
“Pretty teenagers.”
“Whatever,” Kurt says, crawling down on the bed. He mouths at Sebastian’s cock through his briefs, and after that, Sebastian is too distracted to respond.
*
Kurt knows that he should probably feel a lot worse about this than what he does, but honestly, he’s mostly glad to be rid of them. It was an accident, but sometimes accidents can be good.
Like, for example, when you accidentally wash your boyfriend’s favorite boy band sheets with bleach, and they’re ruined forever.
The front door slams, and Kurt jumps.
“Hey babe!” Sebastian calls from the hall. “Did it go alright?”
“Uhm,” Kurt says, glancing down at the mess on the bed.
“You need help folding? You want me to take care of those creepy boy band sheets for...you.” Sebastian falters when he steps into the bedroom and sees his sheets. “What did you do,” he says, his voice flat.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, trying to put as much feeling into the words as possible. “I--I was distracted, and--”
“You were distracted. So you washed my printed sheets, that you hate, with bleach,” Sebastian says, still in a flat voice. He looks up, and the look in his eyes makes Kurt take a step back. He’s hurt, and his eyes are blank. Kurt had suspected Sebastian to yell, or maybe just shrug it off, but he hadn’t expected him to be hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, but it feels stupid now.
“Yeah,” Sebastian says, sniffling and straightening up. “Yeah. I’m just--I need, uhm--” He waves vaguely and disappears down the hall. A few seconds later, the front door slams again.
Kurt sinks down on the bed. This was not what he expected.
*
Sebastian gets home late the next night. He stayed at Nick’s last night, texted Kurt to let him know where he was, at least, but he didn’t bring anything and he needs to change his clothes. He’s not really up to talking to Kurt yet, but it’s his home, too, and he needs his stuff.
Kurt is not in the living room or the kitchen, so Sebastian is a bit wary when he opens the door to the bedroom. He’s hoping Kurt will be asleep, and--he is, but the scene is...weird. Kurt is laying naked on top of the sheets, an envelope next to his hand, like he was...waiting for Sebastian to show up.
“Hey,” Sebastian says, and Kurt jerks awake, sitting up when he sees Sebastian.
“Hey,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re here. I fell asleep.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” Kurt says again, but with actual sincerity this time. “It was an accident, I swear.”
“Okay,” Sebastian says, not sure he believes it, but taking a few steps into the room anyway.
“I, uh, got you this,” Kurt says, handing Sebastian the envelope. “As an apology.”
Sebastian takes the envelope and opens it. He expects it to be something silly, so when he pulls out two tickets for the One Direction concert in August, his jaw drops. “Wha--what is this?” he asks, staring at Kurt. “We can’t afford this.” Which isn’t true, technically; they have the money, but they’re saving it up for a trip during the summer. It’s a mutual decision, no unnecessary expenses this year, and Sebastian has tried to argue his case for One Direction tickets just as much as Kurt has argued for Broadway tickets. They haven’t given into either, until now.
“This totally comes from me, not from our savings,” Kurt hurries to explain. “I’ll have to cut down on things, it won’t affect you at all, I promise. I just--really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal to you.”
“You were wrong,” Sebastian says lightly. “But thanks,” he adds, waving the envelope before he puts it on the dresser. He doesn’t say anything else, and there’s a bit of awkward silence before Kurt speaks up again.
“I, uhm, I have another present for you, too.”
“What?”
Kurt simply spreads his arms. Sebastian waits for all of two seconds before he practically jumps onto the bed, tackling Kurt and kissing him, hard. “Apology accepted.”
Kurt shows up unexpectedly at Elliott's door. It works out well.
thanks to julia for inspiration and for existing ♥︎ also on ao3.
Elliott has just put the kettle on to make more tea, when there’s a knock on his door. He frowns, because he’s not expecting anyone today, if he had, he would’ve put on pants. Oh well. He abandons the kettle and goes to open the door, revealing—Kurt. Who’s soaking wet.
Elliott doesn’t point out that Kurt could be pretty much anywhere in New York and still be closer to Elliott’s place than his own, knows that Kurt doesn’t need another reminder of how much he’s had to downgrade since Rachel and Santana left for L.A. Instead, he just swings the door open and takes a step back, letting Kurt in.
“Of course you’re not intruding. Come in. Do you want to borrow some clothes?”
“Yeah, that’s be great, thanks,” Kurt says, taking off his coat and putting it on the hanger Elliott hands him. Elliott turns to go to the bedroom, and Kurt follows. “Were you…doing laundry, or something?” he asks, and that’s when Elliott notices that Kurt is trying really hard not to stare at Elliott’s bare legs.
“No,” he says, opening his closet. “I just didn’t expect any company today.” If he bends over slightly more than necessary to retrieve a pair of sweatpants from a shelf, well, no one has to know.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt says again, more quiet this time. Elliott stands back up and turns around, handing Kurt the pants before rifling through a drawer for a t-shirt.
“Kurt, it’s okay,” he says. “Do you want me to put on pants, too?”
Kurt’s eyes widen at the question, and Elliott has to bite his lip to stop his smile. If it had been anyone else, Elliott would’ve excused himself to put on pants as soon as he’d opened the door, but with Kurt, it’s…different. They’re friends, but they’ve been toeing around the line of something more for a while now. Elliott wants more, and if walking around without pants in Kurt’s presence is what it takes for Kurt to finally snap, either way, then that’s a sacrifice Elliott is willing to make.
“What? No!” Kurt says, and then coughs. “I mean—Uhm. Do what you want. But I don’t—“ He looks pained and embarrassed, so Elliott saves him.
“You need a sweater, too?” he asks, nodding at the bundle of clothes in Kurt’s arms.
“Yes please,” Kurt says, obviously relieved, shivering again. He really must be soaked through.
Elliott digs out a hoodie and hands it to him. “You want tea?” he asks. “I was just making some.”
Kurt nods. “Thanks. For everything.”
Elliott smiles. “Anytime.”
*
“Honestly, we’re not this different,” Kurt says a few minutes later, walking into the kitchen just as Elliott pulls the tea bags out of the mugs. He turns around and can’t stop the surprised laughter bubbling out of him when he sees Kurt.
He looks more like his more confident self not that he’s in dry clothes, but they’re big on him. The pants are folded up a couple of times to avoid being stepped on, and Kurt is holding up his sleeve-covered hands with a disgruntled expression.
“Apparently we are,” Elliott says, not saying anything about how he maybe gave Kurt those clothes with their size difference in mind. He also tries really hard to ignore the surge of arousal going through him at seeing Kurt in his clothes.
They’re friends.
Elliott clears his throat. “Sugar and milk, right?” he asks, and Kurt nods, still looking displeased with how big Elliott’s clothes are on him.
“What were you doing anyway?” he asks as Elliott hands him his mug. “Before I came?”
Elliott shrugs. “Not a lot. I was gonna watch a movie.”
Kurt fiddles with his tea mug and and takes a sip. “We could do that? I really don’t want to—“
“Kurt,” Elliott interrupts him. “It’s okay. You’re not intruding. But yeah, we can watch a movie.”
He leads the way over to the couch and picks up his computer. “Any preferences?” he asks as he brings up Netflix. Kurt shakes his head and brings his knees up to his chest, balancing his mug on top of them.
“No,” he says. “Whatever you want is fine.”
Elliott hums and picks the one he’d planned on watching anyway, not really knowing what Kurt will think about it, but not really caring, either. If Kurt hates it, Elliott has no doubt that he’ll let him know. He plugs the cable into the computer and presses play, then grabs his tea mug and leans back. The movie loads, and Elliott relaxes into the cushions.
For the first twenty-something minutes, Elliott is too wrapped up in the movie to pay any attention to Kurt, but when his mug is empty and he leans forward to put it down, he shoots a glance at Kurt and almost drops his mug.
Kurt is sitting curled up at the other end of the couch, his arms wrapped around his legs, hoodie pulled up over his head, trying to make himself as small as possible. He’s not aware that Elliott is looking at him, he’s too busy peeking over his knees at the TV and then turning back down again.
“Kurt?” Elliott says, and Kurt flinches and looks at him.
“What?”
“Are you…afraid of the movie?” Elliott asks, because that’s the only conclusion he can make.
“No,” Kurt replies, and it is the shittiest lie Elliott has ever heard. Without another word, he shifts on the couch and lifts his arm.
“Come here,” he says. Kurt hesitates for a moment, then he scoots over, pressing himself close against Elliott.
“Do you want me to turn it off?” Elliott asks, even though he doesn’t want to, because he likes having a reason to have Kurt this close.
Kurt shakes his head. “No. It’s, it’s quite good, actually.”
He doesn’t sound totally convinced by himself, but Elliott doesn’t question him, just relaxes his arm, letting his hand fall on Kurt’s shoulder. The dry clothes and the tea have done their job, because Kurt’s skin is warm, even through the fabric of the hoodie.
They’ve sat close together before, they’ve hugged, even held hands, but this, sitting like this, close on the couch, with no one else here, it feels different, it feels good. There’s a low hum of arousal thrumming under Elliott’s skin, making him hyper-aware of Kurt’s thigh pressed against his own, Kurt’s arm pressed against his side, Kurt’s neck against his arm. He shifts again, regretting now that he didn’t put on pants, because if he’s going to get hard, it will be visible within half a second. He tries to focus on the movie instead, hoping it’ll kill every arousing thought and feeling.
It’s a successful plan, for about five minutes. Then comes a scene with two men kissing, and honestly, there’s a limit to what Elliott can handle. He sits up abruptly, ignoring Kurt’s squeak when his position is jostled, and grabs their mugs from the table.
“Do you want more tea?” he asks, his voice possibly pitched a little higher than normal.
“No thanks?” Kurt says, looking confused and a little suspicious. Elliott doesn’t elaborate, and definitely doesn’t pause the movie, just takes the mugs and walks out into the kitchen. He puts them on the counter, then takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself.
Friends, he reminds himself. Between them, Kurt is the last one out of a relationship. He gets to take the first step into this one.
*
Kurt doesn’t say anything when Elliott comes back to the couch, this time wearing jeans. He does arch an eyebrow, though, and bites his lip to cover a smirk, just a second too late.
“I was cold,” Elliott says defensively, and Kurt just hums, humoring him. He sits down on the couch again and Kurt slides close, pressing their legs together more intently than before. Elliott swallows, glad he put on jeans and not sweatpants, and tries to direct his focus at the movie again.
When the climax starts building up, Kurt starts shifting beside him, and soon, Elliott is torn between watching the movie, and watching Kurt, who seems to be trying to make himself as small as possible.
“Shut up,” Kurt says when he notices Elliott’s looking.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Your think I’m an idiot, I can see it in your eyes.”
“Hey, no, I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Elliott protests. “I just think you’re cute.” It just slips out of him. Sure, he’s said hundreds of variations on that to Kurt before, before band practice and when they’re out shopping, casual compliments when he meets Kurt and he’s wearing a nice shirt. This is different, though, Elliott knows it, and judging by how Kurt stops his squirming and stiffens beside him, he knows it, too.
“Okay,” Kurt says finally, after a long stretch of tense silence.
“I’m sorry,” Elliott says, closing his legs to make his thigh stop pressing against Kurt’s. “That was—“ He gets interrupted when Kurt leans in and kisses him.
“That was totally okay,” Kurt finishes for him when he pulls away. “Right?” he adds, suddenly nervous.
“Yes,” Elliott says emphatically, grabbing Kurt’s neck to bring him in for another kiss.
Movie abandoned, Kurt straddles Elliott’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck for a better position to kiss him.
“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” Kurt murmurs against his lips, pressing his whole body closer, rubbing his ass against Elliott’s thighs, his crotch against Elliott’s. “Cold, huh?” he says with a smirk when Elliott jerks up against him at the combined friction and pressure.
“Scare me?” Kurt says, grinding down with more purpose now.
“I’m not sure if you can take it,” Elliott replies, putting his hands on Kurt’s ass, thrilled that he can, that he’s allowed.
“That I can’t—I’ll show you what I can take, Gilbert,” Kurt says, and Elliott is torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of it, and moaning at the thought of Kurt purposely fucking himself down on Elliott’s cock, just to prove a point. When Kurt starts sucking on his neck, the moaning wins, and Kurt looks up at him with a pleased expression.
“Yeah?”
“Fucking hell yeah,” Elliott breathes.
“Good,” Kurt says, smiling, then does it again.
Elliott has never been so glad to open the door without wearing pants, ever.
“Seba-ah, Sebastian, stop, I--fuck,” Kurt gasps, arching his neck to give Sebastian better access, even as he pushes him away. “Can we--not in the hallway, please?”
“Mm, okay,” Sebastian murmurs, placing one last kiss on Kurt’s neck before backing off. He pulls off his coat and toes off his shoes, leading the way into his apartment, turning on the lights as he goes. When he reaches his bedroom, he looks behind him, expecting Kurt to be right there, but he isn’t.
Kurt is stuck in the hallway, staring at the living room.
“You...” he says, closes his mouth, swallows. “I...what?” he says, finally tearing his eyes away to stare at Sebastian instead. “You...how?” he says, throwing his arm out, pointing at everything at once. Sebastian walks closer, crosses his arms over his chest and smirks.
“This is a lot, Sebastian,” Kurt says, turning to stare at the living room again.
Because it is, it really is. Sebastian’s living room is absolutely flooded with Christmas decorations. Kurt takes a tentative step into it all and looks around. They’ve been dating for eight months, so it’s far from the first time Kurt has been in Sebastian’s apartment. It’s the first time since before Thanksgiving, though, so he hasn’t seen all this before. Kurt had no idea Sebastian was this into Christmas, they haven’t really talked about it, and Kurt definitely hadn’t thought about it. And whatever he somewhat expected, this was definitely not even close.
There are candles pretty much everywhere, not lit of course, but all in various states of burned. A red, fluffy carpet on the floor, blankets with snowflake patterns on the couch. The thing that draws Kurt’s eyes, though, is the Christmas tree.
It’s in the corner, covering a bit of the TV, and it’s big, way bigger than anything a New York bach--guy, Kurt corrects himself with a pleased smile, would ever need in his apartment.
“Wow, Sebastian. Are you compensating or something?” Kurt says, teases, even though he knows first-hand how much Sebastian doesn’t need to compensate, at least not in that particular area. Sebastian seems to be of the same opinion, because he slides up behind Kurt and wraps his arms around his waist, pressing himself close enough that Kurt can feel the outline of his still-hard cock against his ass.
“I think you and I both know I’m not,” Sebastian says into Kurt’s ear, keeping his voice low.
Kurt wants to take a closer look at the other stuff, the paper star in the window and the fairy lights on the bookshelf, the miniature figures on a shelf, but he doesn’t want to leave Sebastian’s arms. It’ll all be here tomorrow, anyway. He’s just about to turn around and suggest they finally move to the bedroom, when Sebastian speaks.
“My sister’s birthday is on the 25th, so we never really went full-out on the Christmas celebrations. Didn’t want to steal her thunder.”
“So you are compensating,” Kurt says, earning himself a smack on his ass and Sebastian biting down on his neck.
“Shut up.”
“Also, I can totally see how you two are related. Demanding the cancellation of a world-wide holiday so she can celebrate her birthday,” Kurt continues, his smile widening as Sebastian turns him around in his arms and glares at him.
“Shut up,” he repeats.
“Make me,” Kurt replies, sliding his arms around Sebastian’s waist, his hands down Sebastian’s back pockets.
“Cheeky.”
“You love it. Not as much as you love Christmas, apparently, but it’s okay. I accept this second place in your life.”
“You think you’re so funny,” Sebastian mutters, tugging on Kurt’s hair, making him angle his face upwards. He leans in to kiss him but hovers with his lips millimeters from Kurt’s, teasing him, torturing him. Kurt whines, low in his throat, presses their bodies closer together, rubbing his own erection against Sebastian’s.
“C’mon, kiss me,” he whispers. “I promise I won’t tease you about this again until tomorrow.”
“You say that as if you expect an award,” Sebastian whispers back, their lips still so close that they’re only almost touching.
“Well, I do,” Kurt replies, raising himself up on his toes to press his lips against Sebastian’s. They almost topple over with the force, but Sebastian takes a step back and stabilizes them, then steps back to sit down on the couch, pulling Kurt with him.
“Good enough?” he asks, grabbing Kurt’s ass to hoist him up on his lap, thrusting up when Kurt’s crotch rubs against his own.
“Mmhm,” Kurt hums, spreading his legs to get them even closer. “God, yes.”
“Fuck, I had--ah--had plans for this evening,” Sebastian says, reaching between them to unzip his jeans.
“No you didn’t,” Kurt replies, doing the same with his own pants while pressing sloppy kisses to Sebastian’s neck. “You wanted to fuck me against the front door.”
“Maybe that was my plan,” Sebastian says, batting Kurt’s hand away when he fails to undo his pants and does it for him. He slides his hand into Kurt’s underwear and takes out his cock, starts to jerk it as he grabs the back of Kurt’s head with his other hand and kisses him. “Do me,” he mutters between kisses. “C’mon, babe, jerk me off and then I’ll fuck you later.”
“You promise?” Kurt says on an exhale, then gasps as Sebastian twists his hand and tightens his grip at the same time. He does as Sebastian says, reaches into his pants to take out his cock, the feel of it in his hand familiar by now, and starts to stroke it.
He goes slowly at first, but fastens his pace when Sebastian doesn’t let up his. This is not what they had planned at all, this is fast and dirty and filthy, precome is dripping down on Sebastian’s clothes and Kurt is too far gone to be able to avoid getting some on his own. It hits Kurt that he isn’t sure if someone can see them through the windows or not, they’ve never been naked in Sebastian’s living room before so he hasn’t had the chance to think about it, but the thought that someone might see them right now, like this, has him moaning loudly and thrusting into Sebastian’s fist.
“Fuck, fuck, come on,” he moans, quickening his pace until his hand is a blur between them. “I need to you fuck me, come on.” He kisses Sebastian again, squeezes around his cock, and then he feels Sebastian tremble beneath him, feels him tense up, feels his hand get coated in sticky come. “I want--I need--” he doesn’t know what he needs, not exactly, but he grabs his own cock with his sticky hand, closes it over Sebastian’s hand to adjust his grip and speed, takes pleasure in the way Sebastian’s breath hitches at the gesture. Sebastian slides his other hand down Kurt’s back again, settles just above his ass, and Kurt thinks he’ll leave it there, but then he smacks Kurt’s ass, hard, and Kurt comes with a gasp, smearing white stripes on Sebastian’s shirt.
“This really wasn’t the plan,” Sebastian says when Kurt is resting his head on Sebastian’s shoulder, catching his breath.
“Yeah, but I’m not complaining,” Kurt says.
“Good, me neither. I’d say we move to the bedroom for round two, though. Much easier to fuck you there.”
“Mm, so you don’t have some weird fantasy about fucking under the Christmas tree or something, then?” Kurt says, kissing the skin he can reach without moving.
“Do you want me to shut you up by making you suck my cock?” Sebastian says, and it’s a joke, but Kurt doesn’t reply, and he knows Sebastian can feel his cock twitch between them. “Fuck,” Sebastian breathes out. “You never fail to surprise me.”
Kurt smiles, pulls his head up and kisses him. “And I can honestly say the same thing about you. Junkie.”
“Pervert.”
“I’m not letting you fuck me with a candy cane or something, just so you know.”
“Jesus, why--where do you even get these ideas? Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not,” Kurt concedes, then winces when he feels their combined come drying up between them. “Can we move now?” Sebastian nods, and Kurt shifts around until he’s standing on the floor, holding out a hand to help Sebastian get up.
“I do have Christmas themed underwear, though,” Sebastian says as they make their way to the bedroom.
“Sheets with Rudolph on, too, I presume?” Kurt says without even looking at him, pulling his shirt over his head as they enter the bedroom.
“Snowflakes, actually,” Sebastian says, throwing his pants over a chair.
“Keeping it classy in the bedroom, at least.” Kurt turns around when he’s naked and pushes Sebastian down on the bed, then moves up to straddle him. “That’s something I can always count on.”
