Kurt drives. Sebastian lets him. The open road invites their luxury Cadillac rental down the tree-lined I-90 along the coast of Lake Erie, towoards the Pennsylvania state line. Kurt’s wearing sunglasses to block the afternoon sun, his hair wispy without product in the breeze of the rolled down window; he’s got a playlist of Stevie Wonder going, which Sebastian loves, because Kurt sings. The steaks of blonde at his widow’s peak, which had darkened in the winter, are back for the summer, dancing wild across his forehead in the wind. His cheeks are flushed, warm and happy; shirt buttons open, hands loose on the wheel, thighs bare in tight pink shorts. He sings, “Oh so long for this night I prayed / that a star would guide you my way / to share with me this special day / where a ribbon's in the sky for our love.”
Sebastian probably couldn’t be any more obsessed if he tried.
“I can’t believe anyone regularly drives a tank like this that costs over a hundred bucks to fill with gas,” Kurt is saying, between lyrics. “Over a hundred! For gas! Rich people, I tell ya.”
“Hate to break it to you, baby,” Sebastian laughs, “but you’re kind of rich people now.”
“I am not.”
“By virtue of me being rich, and renting you this car? I’d say so.”
“This car is so for you.”
Their road trip is set to last four days, and Sebastian’s never been more thrilled to get the fuck out of Ohio. It’s been four hours since they set out, and Sebastian, of course, still can’t stop thinking about the love they made that afternoon, with the corset, before they left. He thinks about the shower they took afterwards, too, when Kurt had held him from behind, half-hard; he’d stood there just teasing, hands lathering Sebastian’s shoulders, wet head of his cock just nudging Sebastian’s ass, barely, like he could put the tip in, but wouldn’t just.
Sebastian, in an odd moment of vulnerability, plus the heat from the steam, and the love, the fucking love, had wanted Kurt to take him then. It’s something he’s been feeling for a while, even though it makes his insides feel like they want to crawl right out of his body, among other things. He knows Kurt won’t do it, or ask, until Sebastian expressly brings it up, because Kurt knows about things, from Sebastian’s past.
It’s one thing to him to think about Kurt’s inside him, to imagine how smooth it might go, and another to lie there actually taking it. To possibly be pain. It used to hurt, sometimes, those times before. He knows Kurt wouldn’t hurt him on purpose; this is different, Sebastian’s not a boy anymore and he’s not so dead set on fucking to try and prove himself to everyone. There’s just this divide; who he is now and the boy he was when he lie in that hospital bed in Amsterdam, close to dead from overdose; this feeling like that version of himself and him two separate people, like he left the old him there in that bed and like, one day soon, they need to face each other again.
He just hates how dumb-luck and stupid he used to be. That strange man from Amsterdam, the “boyfriend” double his age, who used to fuck him rough, when he was high, and couldn’t process it.
He doesn’t want to feel or sense anything related to him ever again.
What if bottoming for Kurt takes him back?
Kurt’s voice pulls him back into the now; oh, Kurt, perceptive as ever. Sebastian wonders if his angel can’t actually, physically hear his thoughts at this point.
“Yeah,” Sebastian says, shifting in his seat. “Just thinking. About stuff.”
Kurt snorts. “Illuminating.”
“I think I...” Sebastian pauses, laughing at himself for how nervous he fucking feels, what is he, twelve? “I’m pretty sure I want you to fuck me.” Taps his fingers along his window, trying to play it off cool and casual. “Maybe later on tonight, or whatever.”
Kurt shoves his glasses up to his forehead, blue eyes wide.
Sebastian laughs again at this response; Kurt’s sudden, passionate expression makes him feel like he’s going to melt right into his seat. God, he’s such a sap. He glances down at his boyfriend’s pink shorts, where they tug around the outline of his cock.
“Getting hard just thinking about that, huh?” Sebastian teases.
“Are you surprised?”
“My first time can’t be in the back of a Cadillac, Kurt. I’m no floozy.”
In the brief silence that falls, with only Stevie Wonder’s voice swelling between them (“This is not a coincidence / and far more than a lucky chance / but what is that was always meant / is our ribbon in the sky for our love”), he realizes that he just told Kurt it would be his first time. He wants to hit himself.
“Your first time?” Kurt repeats, knowing.
“Yeah.” Sebastian looks out the window. “When it counts.”
They stop for a brief detour in Erie, Pennsylvania; specifically, the Presque Island State Park. Beautiful, idyllic lagoon on the ridge of from the infamous lake, the town is all old fashioned lighthouses, tourists in bright colors with bicycles. They pull the Cadillac in to the lot of a fancy, lighthouse seafood restaurant; up on a balcony, with views of the water.
When Kurt heard the host confirm that Seb had called that morning and made reservations, he got this look on his face; not like he was impressed, the way he sometimes used to look the first few times Sebastian took him out, dropped stacks. He knows Kurt has pride about the money, that he may not ever adjust to a life like this: the wine, Pinot Teinturier, and the grand plateau, oysters, shrimp, crab claws, and lobster, and Sebastian taking the bill at the end, no question. It obviously makes Kurt bristle up, but Sebastian plays at pretending he doesn’t know.
“What?” Sebastian says, at Kurt’s look. He can’t help but smile at the pout on Kurt’s lips as he slips his black card into the book. He doesn’t mean to be patronizing, but damn it if Kurt isn’t adorable when he’s fussy.
“I could pay, too,” Kurt asserts. “You know.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Yeah, but, maybe I want to.”
Sebastian takes his black card out and hands the leather booklet across the table. Kurt at first looks smug, like he'll totally swing it, before he reads the bill and his eyes bulge.
“H-how was I supposed to know the wine was two hundred dollars? There were no prices on the menu!”
Sebastian laughs as Kurt, growing pink, shoves the book back across the table.
“Next one’s on you,” Sebastian promises, winking.
Kurt gives, rolls his eyes, smiles. “Okay.”
They take an hour to take a walk afterwards, stretch their legs, let their meal settle; they don’t talk, which Sebastian doesn’t mind, just pace along the water's edge, enjoying the sun.
When they get back into the car, Kurt still driving, they head on to their next destination, which is the legendary Niagra Falls, a two hour drive from Erie.
“Oh, my God.” Kurt is squeezing Sebastian’s arm as they ride the ferry, in blue windbreakers, among the tourists, to the ridge of the falls. “I can’t believe I’m actually here. This is breathtaking.”
“Yeah. It’s bigger than I thought. As a kid.”
The roar of the splash, the mist kissing his face, the vast wall of water collapsing down; Sebastian can’t help but feel humbled, and even nervous, at the sight of such a powerful show of nature. He’s not usually one for the ocean, prefers his sights to be land-based, level; out here, in open waters, there’s very little control to be had.
Sebastian turns to his boyfriend when he hears him, yes, sniffle at his side.
“Are you actually crying?”
“Shut up. It’s just beautiful, that’s all.”
“There would be a rainbow in the sky right now too.”
“So gay,” Kurt says.
The sun is low in the orange-pink sky when they arrive at their first booked hotel in Rochester, New York. It’s a modest resort for Sebastian’s standards, but for Kurt’s, it’s the nicest place he knows he’s ever stayed in in his life. Valet takes their car; bellboys really bring up their bags; they stay on the 22nd floor; and the menu for complimentary services offered, sitting on one of the desks in the spacious suite, almost makes Kurt blush with its indecency.
“They’ll send someone up to your room to massage you, for free!”
“But that’s what I’m for.”
As Kurt looks around the beautiful room further, he tries to bury it, the feeling in his gut like he’s going to have to pay this all back to Sebastian one day. He watches his boyfriend, the benefactor, closely as he sheepishly digs through his suitcase, throwing t-shirts onto the floor in search for his headphones. Sometimes, it hits Kurt that he’s only known Sebastian, really known Sebastian, for little less than a year. This boy has existed in the world for almost twenty years with habits and world views that Kurt only knows the surface of so far. What if it doesn’t work out? He tries not to think that way, but he’s practical; he has to.
And Sebastian has been different, since his dad died. It took Kurt a while to notice it, but every day, it shows itself to him a little bit more. Seb's indifferent to things that used to bother him; the Sebastian Kurt knows and has grown used to would probably find some way in which the hotel wasn’t good enough; call the front desk and ask that his specific requests be made, more flowers in the vase by the door, more varieties of chocolates in the fridge, a bigger bed, roomier closet. Instead of inspecting the room, right now, filling the space with his strong opinions, Sebastian is just looking to go to sleep. He sleeps a lot, these days. It’s interesting, seeing this side of Sebastian who isn’t ambitious, isn’t studying to get straight A’s, running business society meetings, scheming to lead a powerful show choir, or something other.
“Taking a nap,” Sebastian announces, earbuds plugged in his phone, bundling himself in the down comforter on the King. In less than a minute, he’s out cold. Kurt comes to sit on the other side of the bed, watching over him, stroking his hair softly. “Don’t be having another nightmare.” Kurt whispers it, though he knows the words can't seep into Sebastian’s brain. Sebastian doesn’t know that Kurt knows about nightmares. Kurt remembers having his own, though, when he lost his mother. The restless nights, the sleep paralysis, the way that Sebastian often fidgets, kicks, and sweats through his spotty sleep. Burt used to tell Kurt of his behavior when they’d wake up in the mornings; Kurt slept in his dad’s bed for months afterwards.
Kurt doesn’t ask what he dreams about. He’s encouraged Sebastian to journal about it; he sometimes does. The temptation to read said journal is sometimes strong. Sebastian’s told him the overreaching story about his past, the timeline, but Kurt knows that he doesn’t know everything. There are certain things Sebastian glosses over; he never describes in detail what it was like to work in the red light district, in Amsterdam. That’s what Kurt can safely assume went on; when they first met, Sebastian’s stories made it sound like he was out partying, all teenage playboy, adult choices. But Kurt has started to piece together a narrative that he doesn’t want to be true, but fears is: Sebastian would go out with that man, sleep around, sleep with him, and get paid for his labor in drugs.
Kurt doesn’t, can’t know the trauma that Sebastian might have from those years abroad alone. Maybe Seb is fine with it, the way he always says; maybe he’s a rolling stone, he moved on. Or maybe it has something further to do with the troubled relationship he had with his father, the one that defines his life, in his own view, the one that he will have to keep unraveling, re-living, and ultimately coming to terms with for the rest of his life.
All Kurt knows is that he wants to see Sebastian through it to the end. Wants to see Sebastian ten years from now, see Sebastian at peace with his dad’s death the way that Kurt is about his mom’s. It won’t be easy, and it may not take ten years. Kurt couldn’t have imagined at eight years old that he would feel this way at nineteen. It seems a lifetime away at the time.
Kurt wants that lifetime with Sebastian.
Even if it doesn’t work out. He tries to think that he’ll still want to know about his recovery, even if things get ugly. That they’ll always care enough about each other to still check in.
Sebastian, frowning in his sleep, shifts in bed and then wakes suddenly, false start. He looks over at Kurt, watching him. Pulls out a headphone, lightens his expression. “Are you watching me sleep? Pervert.” It bubbles in Kurt, suddenly, the love and nostalgia he has for this silly, flawed human being; he grabs a pillow and shoves it in Sebastian’s face, and Sebastian counters; soon, they’re wrestling.
Wrestling inevitably ends in sex, with these two; Sebastian knows it as well as Kurt does. Kurt is spurred on by the talk they had in the car, that Sebastian wants him, trusts him to finally do this. Kurt sits on top of Seb, pinning his wrists to the pillows, kissing hickeys into his neck. Sebastian lets Kurt make all the moves, lets Kurt undress him completely, Kurt leaving his own shirt on.
"You meant what you said in the car?" Kurt asks it as he trails kisses down Sebastian's abdomen, leaving the wettest and longest along Sebastian's inner thighs.
"Yeah. Fuck. I did."
"When was the last time?"
"So, you're nervous."
"A little, yeah."
"That's okay. We can go slow."
It ends up being an hour or two, of Kurt just using tongue and a single finger; Sebastian can’t, won’t let himself come from the feeling alone, though he feels it steadily building; he’s holding back, because the rush, the orgasm, it’s something different from when he’s coming from penetrating someone else; he can always pull out when he’s on top, move slower, adjust the timing of his blow. Here, he can’t control it. It starts to feel so scarily good, so overstimulating, that eventually Sebastian shifts his hips back and away from Kurt’s face, holds onto his lover' hand, panting. When Kurt backs off, Sebastian jerks himself off, fast and hard, taking the reigns on what little control he still had. Kurt, eyes electric and wired, licks every last bit of come from Sebastian's stomach.
“Fuck," Sebastian pants, "you’re so perfect.”
Kurt smiles at the compliment, wiping the shine from lower lip with his thumb.
“So," he says, circling Seb's rim with his finger. "Does that help? Feeling more open?”
Sebastian stares at Kurt's erection, poking out from under his white shirt; Kurt's not the biggest Sebastian has seen, or had, but still, it's thick and long enough that he can't rule out that it won't be uncomfortable.
“I can’t." He's not even sure if that's true; he doesn't know what he feels. "Not yet. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be." Kurt shifts up to kiss him on the lips. "It’s okay.”
When Sebastian resumes his nap, he dreams about his neighbor back in high school, his first, who he got caught with barebacking by his parents when he was fifteen. Back then, he thought the only thing he should do was bottom; it was what he’d always imagined, the way the women of his mother’s favorite romance novels wrote it. He used to sneak them from the drawer where she kept them, in her closet, where they both thought his father had no idea about them. It wasn’t until he got home from Europe his senior year that he decided he would only top. A part of it was a dismissal of his shed skin; he was leaving behind the circumstances that wound him up in the hospital, and he, whether or not it was right, considered that one of them. A weakness.
The hard part was, though, that as much shame as he only secretly felt about that older man, he’d wanted to do it, at the time. He fucking lived for it. Loved it. He still remembers, though it no longer makes him feel glorious, the pride he felt, walking into clubs, having sex with older men, as all the while, that strange man watched him. Being told he could have anyone, that he was gorgeous, the stranger would always provide, would never hate or get jealous. Sebastian thought he had found some kind of freedom. Never mind that he would have trouble walking the next day. He’d just dope up, and the numbness would be a reminder of the power that he was stacking.
Now, Sebastian knows it was not power, it was fear that not conforming to this life he’d fallen in would mean rejection.
Sebastian wakes again at around eleven p.m., the sound of Kurt stubbing his toe on the edge of the fridge and the applause on television—some reality TV reunion Kurt has on—causing him to shift in bed, rub his eyes. Kurt is dressed up, or at least half-way there, and all the lights in the bathroom are on. Sebastian knows they’re supposed to be going out; his online research pre-road trip had him discover that Rochester has an entire street lined with gay nightlife, and Kurt’s never been to a boystown that isn’t the dump that was Scandals.
Sebastian joins Kurt in getting ready, then contemplates whether or not he should break into the party favors he stuffed into his suitcase, just in case. Him looking at the dime bag, which also has a joint in it, and Kurt smelling it, reveals that he went to see one Sandy Rhyerson before they took off. To buy pot.
“I wanted to wait until we were in a more liberal state, so you didn’t freak about cops,” Sebastian is saying, removing the joint from the rest of the flowers, as Kurt watches with wide eyes. “But, if you’re uncomfortable, I won’t have any.”
Kurt, surprising Sebastian, comes to sit in his lap on the floor. He takes the joint between two fingers, inspecting it, like he’s never seen a real joint in his life. He probably hasn’t.
“No, I...” Kurt pauses at the incredulous look on Sebastian's face. “I do, I wanna try it!”
Sebastian laughs. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No, no! Carpe diem, it’s a road trip, it’s the summer.” Kurt brings one end of the joint to his nose. “God, it smells awful.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
The nightclub is called Barred; two stories, brick walls, colorful strobe lights, heavy electronica, glittered half-naked men dancing in cages. Sebastian tells everyone they pass that it’s Kurt’s birthday; Kurt is way too high and gleeful to even contest. Their fellow patrons react to this by hugging said birthday boy, offering to buy him shots, or in the case of one fabulous drag queen, lifting him to ride on his shoulders, so he can fist pump to the bass at the highest height in the crowd.
Kurt doesn't have a worry in his mind; the body high makes him feel like he could dance, live in this place, for the rest of his life. Maybe it's all the circumstances, that they're both in New York, that the gay community, from what he can tell here, is so much more bold and open and professional. He doesn't think for a minute that he could go back and time and tell his old self that this is where he'd be; in his dream city, with a boy who has turned to be his dream boyfriend, high on marijuana, of all things. But, most of all, high on life.
After the club that night, Sebastian really wants Kurt; he makes no hesitation showing it the second they're back in their room. Still feeling high, Kurt discovers that making out, feeling Sebastian’s hard body, is so much more visceral and arousing when he’s like this. It’s so slow, and Kurt can feel every minute motion Sebastian makes; he feels like time has stopped, like this is going to last hours, all night, into forever, like it's the only thing he's ever known.
“Let’s do it,” Sebastian breaks from their kiss to say, as Kurt unbuttons Sebastian’s shirt. “You can fuck me. Right now. I’m ready.”
“I mean it. Please, baby, please.”
They fall back onto the bed, Sebastian beneath Kurt, as Sebastian hurries to strip off Kurt's pants, grabbing Kurt's cock through his underwear with no shame.
“Wait, wait.” Kurt feels the room spinning. As much as Kurt wants to, he doesn’t want Sebastian’s new-first-time to be while they’re on drugs.
“Sebastian, we’re too...this is too funny, I mean, too crazy...I’m really high.”
Sebastian grins. “I am too. So, imagine how crazy it’ll feel...”
Kurt groans when Sebastian wraps his legs around his waist, pulling him down; it’s been so long since he felt hot, tight ass around his dick, driving into wet heat and thighs squeezing his hip bones and scratches carved in his back...
“W-we can’t.” Kurt swallows. “Trust me, as much...” he sighs, stares down at Sebastian’s body, hard and gold in the low lamp light, “as much as you are killing me right now...”
Sebastian sombers, realizes Kurt’s point, and closes his legs.
Moments later, Kurt is in the bathtub, washing the sweat from the club from his skin; Sebastian, naked as well, sits on the counter, his legs dangling off the edge, smoking another joint and watching him. They sit in comfortable silence, as the air gets thick and clouded, as Sebastian smokes most of the joint without even realizing, and as Kurt softly sings “Overjoyed.”
Sebastian gets so high that his body feels like liquid, taking over, flowing naturally where it's meant to be. He slips off the counter and slinks to the bedroom. Returns with lube and a slim, curved dildo; sits back on the counter and opens his legs, watching Kurt respond to his moves. Slicks up one finger and slips it in slow; the pressure feels so, incredibly intense when he’s high, nothing like the few times he’s tried fingering himself before; each pulse of his finger sends whole body pleasure and warmth through him, completely splaying him open, and this is just one finger. Because he’s high, he doesn’t feel his fear. His body can focus on the physical sensations of this alone. It's therapeutic, the way time is no factor, the way Kurt is no pressure. Kurt just watches him from the tub, tugging at himself, red and swelling, coaxing the tip in and out of the gently swaying water. Sebastian is so turned on by this display that he actually starts shaking from how good this all feels.
When Kurt comes in the water, Sebastian stops; comes to kneel before the tub, leans in and kisses Kurt’s mouth, then stares down at the come starting to swirl around Kurt’s waist.
“Mm, I could just drink your bathwater.”
Sebastian laughs, kissing him again.
“Love you,” he whispers.
That night, Sebastian sleeps soundly.
The next morning, they check out of their hotel and Kurt drives through the West Canada Lake Wilderness, on the New York/Vermont border. Their travel today is northeast, through Vermont, to Cape Elizabeth, Maine, where Sebastian's Uncle Mark and Aunt Nora have agreed to let them stay at their lighthouse.
Sebastian wakes up some mornings and temporarily forgets where he is, who he is now; today, he misses his dad, somehow, looks at himself in the mirror of the hotel bathroom and sees his father's face in every detail. Even after all of what he put Sebastian through, there are days when love and nostalgia creep up on him, and he wishes he were eight again, when he was too young to know what was really happening. When his dad coming home from work at night was the highlight of the whole, because there was always that chance that he could bring home gifts for he and his mother, that he'd be proud of whatever Sebastian accomplished, that day. Because he could hope that, hours later, before bed, it would end as one of the good nights, and not a night that would end in horror for he or his mother.
It doesn't help that an hour into he and Kurt's drive, he gets a call from the shipping company that moved their stuff; apparently, it all went to the wrong address. Now, he has to track it down, on the phone with several different reps, bitching at them for their incompetency. He's in bad shape, grumpy, all morning and afternoon.
It’s one of those days, and Kurt isn’t prepared for it. He always tries to be, best he can, but when Sebastian’s feeling vengeful, and hating the world, he’s really in it.
It doesn't help that the narrowness of the wilderness road, the thick trees, the winding trail about the mountains, makes him nervous, and he drives no faster than twenty miles an hour; he's afraid he's going to accidentally drive the giant tank Sebastian insisted that they get off of a cliff's edge. The fact that his phone doesn't have service, or access to Google Maps, exacerbates things further. Sebastian won't get off his phone to help use it for navigation.
“Are you lost?” Sebastian says, still on hold with the company, as Kurt swerves pass a narrow fork. “Because it kind of fucking feels like you’re lost.”
Kurt sighs. "We're not lost." They might be. He tries to zoom out on his map on his phone, but all there is is more forest. “We’re moving towards the end of it. I think.”
"Yeah, yeah," Sebastian snaps to the phone. "No, I don't want a refund, I want the dense cunts who took thousands of dollars of my personal property and left it on the wrong doorstep to be fired. Yeah, I'll wait."
Kurt takes a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth.
"Got something to say?"
Kurt looks over. Apparently, Sebastian's addressing him now.
"No, no. I'm fine."
"I just don't get why you'd call the customer service rep who had nothing to do with this a...you know. That word."
"I didn't call her a cunt."
"Yeah, but you said it to her. She's just trying to do her job."
"Well, her job sucks."
Three hours later, they're finally through the wildlife and stop at the border of Vermont and New Hampshire to finally eat something that isn't trail mix and beef jerky. The restaurant is a local, breakfast-all-day diner. Kurt hopes Sebastian's tantrum will calm with food, but alas, he finds problems even with that.
"I thought I asked for my eggs scrambled."
The waitress, who can't be any older than sixteen, looks distraught at Sebastian's complaint. "Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry, sir."
"They are scrambled." Kurt pulls Sebastian's plate across the table. Sebastian pulls it back. Kurt looks at the waitress. "You're fine, honey."
"No," Sebastian says. "She's not. Look at this." He holds the plate up, rotating it slightly. "The eggs are runny. Do you know what happens to people who eat uncooked eggs? They get salmonella. Did you learn about that, in middle school biology? People who get salmonella die."
"Oh, gosh, I'll take those away from you, we'll get you new ones right now. I'm so sorry, sir."
“Okay, what is with you today?" Kurt says as soon as the waitress runs to the kitchen. "Is this some kind of hangover from the pot?”
"There is no hangover from pot, who are you, Nancy Reagan?"
"Well, what the fuck, then? I understand you being upset about our stuff, but they said they found it, right? It's on the way now?"
"Yeah, it is."
"So will you stop terrorizing every stranger we meet today?"
"It's my dad," Sebastian finally blurts out. "I miss him."
They go outside, after Kurt tells the waitress that they're going to be right back. They sit atop the hood of the Cadillac, Sebastian smoking a cigarette from the pack he bought at the gas station next door. Kurt waits for Sebastian to find his words. Looking up at the sky, wishing there were a God so that he could curse him, for putting a child through hell.
"Today, I woke up, looked at myself in the mirror, and just thought, 'I hate myself.' It hasn't stopped, all day. I hate myself for having any part of him in me. look at myself and I see the guy he raised, who looks just like him, and acts out the way that he did. What if one day I wake up and I am him?"
Kurt wants to tell him that he won't be, but waits for Sebastian to finish.
"He stomped all over me. When someone does that, it makes you feel for the rest of your life like people are gonna take advantage of you. It makes you feel powerless, and stupid. So, yeah, I cussed that lady out on the phone, because I didn't want her thinking she could take our stuff and just lose it like it doesn't matter. It matters."
There's a day Sebastian keeps seeing over in his head; when he was nine, a boy at his school called him a sissy, stole his backpack. The next morning, Sebastian's father went with him to school to speak to the office about their negligence about bullying. He wouldn't take any answer but "our school is incompetent" from the principal; Sebastian only remembers feeling safe and protected, that his father would go toe-to-toe with someone for twenty minutes over something inconsequential like a backpack. "It isn't about the object," he'd said to his son, in the car. "It's about the fact that our family deserves dignity and respect. God has chosen us for his kingdom. He wouldn't want his royals mistreated, would he, son?" When they got home, Sebastian found three new backpacks waiting for him on his bed, each engraved with his last name.
"It's like I can't even place memories like that," Sebastian says, telling Kurt the story, "how do I know what was a lie and what wasn't?"
Kurt doesn't want to sound like a broken record; he could tell him what he has before, that Sebastian shouldn't blame himself, but that won't stop Sebastian from feeling like this ever again.
"I'm sorry," Sebastian says. "I don't deal with this well. At all."
"I don't exactly expect you to," Kurt says. "It took years for the random mood swings, and the crying, and the waking up in my house and suddenly feeling like it was the past, to stop when my mom died. And our relationship was good. Next time, just tell me what you're thinking. I know you like to be strong, keep things to yourself. But I'm here."
When they get back inside, at their booth, Sebastian's new, hot eggs are waiting for them. He eats them without saying a word about their taste.
They get to Cape Elizabeth, to rest, at the lighthouse, after five more hours of driving, mostly in silence. Sebastian's Uncle and Aunt have just put his cousin, Sarah, to bed when they arrive. Though they aren't together there for very long, Mark and Nora briefly host Kurt and Sebastian at their dining room table; fresh caught lobster and white wine and them telling childhood stories about the pranks Sebastian used to pull at Smythe family reunions.
There is a vacant back house on the property that the couple sometimes AirBnB’s; Sebastian and Kurt have it all to themselves, tonight. They stay in the upstairs bedroom, the windows open, a single lamp on a bedtable shining; the moon is full, making for plenty of light, too, as Sebastian and Kurt settle their suitcases, change out of their day clothes.
"You're lucky to have them," Kurt's saying, as he looks at some of the photos Nora's taken on the wall. "It's clear how much they love you."
"Yeah. I feel loved."
Kurt looks at Sebastian, then, standing shirtless in the moonlight, and is overcome by emotion. The emotional course their day has taken drives him to move to Sebastian's side of the room, just as Sebastian is also coming close to meet him. They strip each other, passionate, desperate; Kurt wants to show Sebastian how deep his love runs with his body. Kurt moves deliberate, but slow, careful, and Sebastian, more pliant than usual, pulls Kurt down into him like the other boy is gravity itself.
They slow down, after a while, kisses becoming more and more chaste, and the pause comes because they keep stopping here, before the sex.
Sebastian knows he wants to do this.
He just needs to let go.
"I know we haven't talked, in detail, about the last time you did this," Kurt says, stroking Sebastian's cheek. "But maybe we should?"
Sebastian exhales, placing his hand over Kurt's. "I think I can handle that."
"I don't mean to be...indelicate, but that night you overdosed, was the last time, and that older man...did he ever force you?”
Sebastian sighs, slowly. The look on Kurt's face, the vulnerability, makes him hate to have to say this. But he knows what he needs to be ready.
“I don’t remember. Okay? I’d come in and out of being too drunk, or coked out, or...it doesn’t matter now. I know, every therapist in America and you, with your perfect sexual history, think it matters so much, but I don’t want you looking at me like I’m this victim that someone picked up and spat on and then threw back out into the world. I need you to tell me that it's okay. That I can move on. Not treat me like I’m damaged goods.”
Kurt could almost cry. "Oh, you're not damaged. Is that what you think I think of you?"
"I don't know. Sometimes."
"I just don't wanna trigger anything, if that's what this is about for you."
“I don't really know that that's what it's about.” Sebastian takes Kurt hand and brings it to his chest, letting him stroke slow. "All I know is that I fantasize about you, and how good you'll make it feel for me. All I can do is try again."
As they’re engaging in foreplay, Sebastian explains, “It’s a control thing. Letting someone give me something, then I get addicted, and they take it away. Not big on orgasm denial. Which makes me a hypocrite, since I do it to you all the time.”
“Yeah, but I like that," Kurt says. "It doesn’t have to be how you and I usually do it. When you wanna come, or if you want me to do things a certain way, I’m all yours. Just talk me through it.”
“Okay. I trust you.”
Kurt's rim job all but blows Sebastian's mind; he didn't know if his high self-exploration the night before would open up any new feelings for him, but it did; how loose he feels and how perfect Kurt's tongue feels is exactly as exciting as his arousal was on drugs. The whole time, he keeps his gaze on Kurt; eyelashes splayed on his reddening cheeks, fingers soaked with lube and his own spit.
Kurt watches as Sebastian's cock bobs, twitching for the need to come.
"I want you," Sebastian says. "I'm ready."
Kurt props himself up on his knees, bringing Sebastian's thighs to hitch up on his waist; god, his lover is so beautiful; long legs, tall abdomen, chest rising and falling with his exhilaration, and his face, best of all of it, so gorgeous, devastatingly so.
Once he has more lube applied, Kurt lines himself up with Sebastian's entrance, then comes to lean down over him, so they're as face to face as they can be.
"I want you to look me at me the whole time," Sebastian says. "So I know that it's you."
Sebastian’s life is changed, that night; they go three times; he loses control, letting Kurt hear moans and gasps that he didn't even know his voice could make. It doesn't hurt, not the way he thought it would; it's uncomfortable, at first, but he's full, and already so turned on, and it's Kurt. Once it starts to feel good, it's incredible, best of his life.
Post-coitus, Sebastian is little spoon. He asks Kurt to sing him to sleep. "'Ribbon In The Sky' again."
"We can't lose with God on our side / we'll find strength in each tear we cry / from now on, it will be you and I / and our ribbon in the sky, for our love."
The next morning, they drive along the Maine coast, pass through Boston, and Providence, on their way to stop in New Haven, Connecticut. They'll staying with the only person Kurt knows in New Haven, Connecticut, none other than Quinn Fabray, who's still at Yale. Her student apartment has two bedrooms. “Works out perfect!” she’d said on the phone, “My roommate just went out of town for the summer, so you can sleep there and make love to your hot new boyfriend.” Kurt insisted that they wouldn't have sex in her house, but now that the day's finally come, and he's just discovered that said hot new boyfriend's an ever better bottom than he is a top, he's not sure he'll be able to resist.
The whole day, Kurt steps up his game and actively lusts over wanting to fuck Sebastian again. He’s never been so bold before. Besides when Sebastian had cut them off for the STD debacle. For the most part, he’s never been the hornier of the two of them. Sebastian teases him, lovingly, for his desperate enthusiasm.
Sebastian takes a turn driving that day, and to show his appreciation, Kurt gives him road head while they're out on the highway.
"I've never actually done this before," Kurt's saying, ass out of his seat, slicking Sebastian's cock with spit in his hand. "I tried to get Blaine to give it to me once, but he said he thought he might give him a headache."
"What a pussy."
Kurt doesn't even care that someone might see; he takes Sebastian's cock in his mouth, sucking and pulling, as Sebastian groans. Instead of swallowing his boyfriend's come, as usual, he makes out with Sebastian while it’s still in his mouth, come slick and sliding between their tongues. Sebastian thinks it’s the hottest thing Kurt done has ever done, and that’s saying something.
"So I'm probably gonna be horny, for the rest of my life, thinking about that," he says.
"I'm more than okay with that," Kurt says.
Quinn welcomes them in her chic, stylish student apartment with open arms; literally, she and Kurt probably hug each other for two minutes straight. Quinn then even hugs Sebastian, like she's known him as long as she's known Kurt, and even though Sebastian was once a sworn New Direction enemy. Sebastian doesn't know why, but he likes the blonde girl immediately.
Kurt has one of those relationships with Quinn that doesn’t need to constantly be kept up on; because they know they love each other, Facebook comments on each other's statuses and texting each other motivational quotes has sufficed. When they sit around her dining room table, she talks about how different she feelings, in Connecticut; leaving Lima and never going back.
"I miss everybody," Quinn says. "When you guys got together, over Thanksgiving, I thought, 'just go back, just for a day, a few hours.' But I really think I've made the right decision. There's something to be said about energies. When you spend time in a place, and you're suffering there, you let out all that bad energy into the space. And it stays there. I can't walk by McKinley, or pass my old doctor's office, without thinking about how downtrodden carrying Puck's baby and being a deadbeat mother made me. Sometimes, the only thing you can do, to really get a fresh start, is go to a new place, free of any energies."
"Damn." Sebastian speaks first, looking at her with respect. "That's well said."
"Isn't she so wise?" Kurt hurrahs her, squeezing the hand of hers he holds on the table. "Seriously, the best thing Lima, Ohio has ever made. They have been sorry without you."
Quinn shrugs, laughs a little. "They'll be just as sad and sorry without you too, Kurt." She looks at Sebastian. "Did you know, his sophomore year, he got tossed in a dumpster every single day?"
"So many fabulous clothes ruined."
"If someone had thrown me into garbage everyday, I'd've gone postal. Literally, I'd have stabbed Puck."
Quinn takes Kurt and Sebastian out for the afternoon, and sunset, to tour them around Yale; in one of the parks, they join in on a group of dorming students' ultimate frisbee game; Quinn takes them for Ethiopean food, which neither of them has ever tried.
When they get back, Quinn directs them and their suitcases, which they'd thrown on the living room, to her roommate's bedroom, as Kurt and Quinn had been too excited to do when they first got here.
"Ooh, a grand piano," Kurt says, of the black piece in the corner in the room. "You tempt me."
"Sing, play!" Quinn cheers. "Roommate's a music major, so she keeps this thing perfectly in tune. What's at the top of Kurt Hummel's repertoire these days?"
"He's been doing a lot of Stevie Wonder," Sebastian says.
"Knocks Me Off My Feet?" Quinn suggests.
Kurt winks. "You got it."
That night, Quinn offers for Kurt and Sebastian to come with her to Yale sorority party, where's meeting someone for a date. "A lady someone," she says. Kurt sort of wants to go, but he also wants Sebastian to himself for a couple hours.
"But when you get home," he says to Quinn, "I need all of the details on when you even started liking girls in the first place!"
"Oh, come on, I was in Glee," she says, teasing. "If you're not occupied when I get back, I'll tell you. If you are, just try to keep it down for me, yeah?" She winks. "And my neighbors. Thin walls."
"These really are thin walls." Sebastian is under Kurt, both naked, on the bed, and Kurt's about to fit his cock inside Sebastian. "Pretty sure I can hear whatever baby her neighbor has singing along to the Backyardigans."
"What, that doesn't turn you on?"
"The thought of having to stay quiet," Sebastian says, as Kurt leans closer, and Sebastian wraps his arms around Kurt's back, drops his voice to a whisper, "does something for me."
"God, you were so loud for me last night. So fucking hot."
"Don't put it down so good, then."
"For you?" Kurt pushes inside him. "No way."
After breakfast with Quinn, the boys drive from New Haven to New York, where they get to their apartment in Greenwich Village. Greenwich Village, in the low-east of Manhatten, has been known as an artists' haven, the Bohemian capital, the cradle of the modern LGBT movement. It's perfect for Kurt, Sebastian knows, and it's the out-est, proudest neighborhood he found in his searches for real estate.
To be on these streets, with thousands of people like him, where brick high rises once burned during the riots of Stonewall, where love triumphed after everything, regardless, feels like the biggest slap in the face to his dad's former homophobia.
Sometimes, Sebastian imagines his dad, up there in heaven, is okay with it all now, however.
It's a smaller one-bedroom than Kurt expected, white walls, wood floors, and barred windows, but to be in the Village, newly-gentrified, at all, and to be just blocks away from The New School, where he starts in the fall, the size will have to due for the two grand price tag.
Their boxes, furniture, and Sebastian's bedframe, and some new things Kurt's dad sent from Lima, all wait in the living room when they arrive.
"We made it," Kurt says. "It's small, and plain, but I'll fix that shortly. It's with you, so I'm happy."
"Beats the shitty dorm room we used to have."
"Kinda want you to fuck me on the floor. Christen the place."