"So, what do you think, love? Does that bear repeating?" Sebastian asks as he kisses the top of Kurt's head. He can't stop kissing Kurt since their little orgy a few hours ago. After a power nap and a quick shower, Barry and Carson, still responsible adults in the middle of an actual work day, bid Kurt and Sebastian a fond farewell while the couple stayed behind to make the best possible use of their hotel room. They took a long, hot shower themselves - Sebastian lathering up a washcloth and cleaning his boyfriend down, subconsciously focusing on everywhere Barry had touched him and kissed him. Sebastian had a soft spot for Barry Allen, more now than before, but that didn't mean he wanted any of the man's DNA left behind on Kurt's skin.
After their shower, they ordered up an obscene amount of room service and got back into bed. And why not? They had nowhere they had to be, no one to answer to today. Sebastian is his own boss, and as for Kurt, all he had to do was tell his boss Isabelle the truth, that he was having a spur-of-the-moment orgy with two guys that looked exactly like him and Sebastian, emphasizing the fact that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She immediately gave him the rest of the day off, but made him promise that she would be the first to hear the deets afterwards (meaning even before Chandler!), including pictures if he could swing them … plus a sample of whatever it was he was dropping, if applicable.
Kurt and Sebastian segued seamlessly from orgy into romantic afternoon, basking in the glow of their phenomenal first ever foursome. It was a perfect set-up for what Sebastian had in store. He'd gone into this deciding to play it by ear, but the longer they linger in post-orgasmic bliss, the more he's sure it's time.
"I don't know," Kurt says, tracing swirls over Sebastian's pecs with his fingertips while Sebastian strokes trails up his spine. "Maybe one more time. I didn't get a chance with Carson, and I would have loved to have seen you with Barry. But that might be a little too weird. Surreal."
"Yeah." Sebastian chuckles into Kurt's hair. "Maybe a tiny bit. We might tear a hole in the space time continuum or something."
"It was fun and all, but it was hard to concentrate – being with someone new, focusing on him and his needs, finding out what makes him tick, all while making sure Carson was comfortable and enjoying himself, and then wanting to watch you, how hot you looked. Sensory wise, it was a little much."
"Well, when you put it like that, sure. I guess you were putting a lot more thought into it than I was. I was just going with the flow."
"Too each his own." Kurt shrugs. "Besides, I love you. I love making love to you."
Sebastian grins. That's what he wanted to hear. "Do you?"
"Mm-hmm. No one knows me the way you do. Part of the fun in having sex for me is finding someone I trust and being vulnerable with them. It's hard to be that way with two people I don't know, and it's a little confusing when one of those people looks so much like you, who I do know. I know that there's a lot of people who manage these types of relationships and enjoy it, and kudos to them. I just don't think I'm one of those people."
"Makes sense," Sebastian says. "I've always been down for a multi-partner fuck fest, and I'm glad you were willing to take the plunge with me, but I have to admit, I cherish the times that you and I spend together. They're special to me. Important."
Kurt smiles. That's what he wanted to hear. "I'm glad that I'm important."
"You always have been, babe. Still, that was a big step. Probably one of the biggest steps we've taken in our relationship so far."
Kurt hums, snuggling against Sebastian's chest with eyes clothes, ready for another nap. "Probably."
"And we came out of it unscathed."
"Relatively," Kurt says. "I mean, did you see the scratches I left on Barry's chest?"
"Yeah." Sebastian laughs. "But they faded pretty quick, so maybe you're losing your touch."
"Ah! Bite your tongue!" Kurt snickers, but Sebastian goes quiet, lost in thought with his fingertips playing down the steps of Kurt's spine, his other hand sneaking beneath the pillow to fish out something he'd left there before their shower … just in case.
"You feel like taking another one?"
"Hmm? Another what?"
"Another big step."
Sebastian feels Kurt shift upward a hair to hear him better. "What do you mean?"
"I mean …" Kurt feels Sebastian swallow, his head against the hollow of his neck "… Kurt Hummel, would you do me the tremendous honor of being my husband?"
Kurt's brow pinches. Was he speaking hypothetically or …? Kurt opens his eyes, about to look up except right in front of him, sitting on Sebastian's chest in an open blue box, is the most stunning platinum and diamond ring he's ever seen in his life – and seeing as he works for Vogue, that's saying something.
"Oh my God," Kurt gasps, picking the box up in disbelief and sitting upright with it. "Are you … are you serious?"
"A-ha." Sebastian sits up with him. He takes the ring from the box and holds out his hand. "I've had this ring for a while now. I've just been trying to find the best time to give it to you."
"A-and you felt that right after our first orgy was the best time?" Kurt asks, marveling when Sebastian slips the ring onto his finger, the smooth metal band fitting him perfectly. Kurt doesn't even wear rings. How the hell did Sebastian know his size?
Because Sebastian loves him, so Sebastian found a way. He probably measured Kurt's finger one night when Kurt was so knocked out on Ambien, he couldn't think straight.
And as ridiculous as that sounds, it melts Kurt's heart.
"Absolutely. It's a milestone, babe." Sebastian curls Kurt's hand over the ring and holds it. "I knew if we could get through that with no hard feelings, we could get through anything."
Sebastian kisses Kurt's hand, and Kurt has a sudden flashback of the things they've been through up to this point – the jabs and the insults, the angry sex, the passionate sex, the moments of quiet, Sebastian sitting beside Kurt in the hospital when Kurt's dad had his second heart attack, and then sitting beside Kurt again in Kurt's own hospital bed after he'd rushed into an alley to save a man from being beaten to death by homophobes and got the shit knocked out of him, graduations and dinners with family and holidays and all the celebrations, big and small, that go into sharing a life together. In retrospect, the bad blood between them only lasted about a year total, and every day since has been incredible.
Kurt looks at his hand wrapped in Sebastian's grasp, the ring at home on his finger as if Sebastian always knew that Kurt would say yes, so he's not even waiting for an answer.
Snarky, conceited, cocky, know-it-all Sebastian.
The completely unexpected and wonderful love of Kurt's life.
Kurt leans forward and rests his forehead against Sebastian's forehead. "D-did you ever have any doubts?"
Sebastian shakes his head, and kisses Kurt gently on the lips, smiling against Kurt's watery smile. "Never for a minute."
Carson and Barry used work as an excuse to leave the hotel room, but they never actually went back. It was a difficult thing for them to put into words, especially after everything that had just happened between the four of them, but both men had begun to feel like they were overstaying their welcome, that there was something else planned for those two in that room that Carson and Barry should not be a part of. They went to Barry's room across town to defrag and reflect. They were going to talk, really talk, sit down and hash out everything they were feeling, what they wanted to do, how they were going to proceed.
But five steps into the room, they ended up tearing each other's clothes off and heading straight for bed.
In their defense, at least they were talking.
"So, did you like him better than me?" Carson asks, sliding up and down slowly on Barry's cock in his lap. He runs his hand down Barry's chest where the tracks of Kurt's nails had been.
That was only a few hours ago, but there isn't a single mark left, and thank God. Carson didn't know how long he could look at them.
"What a time to ask that question, Car." Barry laughs, pulling Carson down so he can feel the full extent of his arousal, every inch of it buried deep in Carson's body. "But no," Barry answers quickly, honestly, knowing Carson doesn't let a question lie once it's been asked. That's why he's a shoo-in for the Pulitzer; Barry just knows it. "There's no contest. He doesn't even compare to you."
"I don't know," Carson teases. "It looked like he had you pretty convinced."
"He wasn't you, Carson. He doesn't feel like you. He doesn't taste like you. I was so nervous with him. I didn't know how to touch him, how to kiss him, what to say to him." Barry stops Carson in his lap, smirking deviously. "And with him, I can't do this …"
Barry puts his hand flat over Carson's bare chest. The second they connect, forks of blue electricity fly from Barry's fingertips. They dance over Carson's skin, outlining jagged, branching marks that faded a long time ago. Barry pulls and the electricity pulls back, trying to re-seat Barry's hand on Carson's flesh. Carson's head falls back. Barry's electricity calls to the electricity inside Carson's body, igniting every cell. It fills Carson with a comforting and erotic heat.
He feels an intense light burning behind his eyes. It turns him into a beacon of power, one that Carson is specially equipped to withstand.
Growing up, Carson Phillips was an imaginative boy who wanted to fly – far away from his small-minded town, far away from his manipulative mother, far away from the tragedy that was his young adult life. He was planning to attend Northwestern, become a reporter and, eventually, the youngest editor of The New Yorker, among other things. He longed to break free, defy expectations, and make something extraordinary of his life. Instead, on the last day of high school, he was hit by the world's most random bolt of lightning and, by all clinical definitions of the word, died. It took members of his community over three days to find his body. But in a strange turn of events, he came back to life a day later in the morgue while being prepped for an autopsy, and no one could explain why, including the coroner who suffered a heart attack when Carson opened his eyes and sat straight up on his table. Carson's experience with death set him on the path to not only becoming the journalist he'd always wanted to be, but to search out the supernatural.
Carson was open to any lead pointing to the unknown, but he focused mainly on searching out survivors of lightning strikes, trying to find an answer to why what happened to him happened. But all of the victims he spoke to were of the average, run-of-the-mill, struck by lightning survivors, each with similar experiences of being caught unaware either before or in the middle of a storm, most of whom received the same warning signs - static electricity causing their hair to stand on end, or just a general feeling of dread.
Carson had experienced none of those. He had been happy, content when the bolt of lightning hit him, having being brought down by circumstances earlier but finally finding peace with his direction in life. And he'd had no warning. There was no storm coming, no clouds that he remembered, no feeling of static electricity. His mother had said that she thought maybe Carson himself had pulled that bolt of lightning out of the sky.
Whatever happened to Carson, it lit a fire in his belly that sent him traveling all over the globe.
And that's how, over a half-decade later, he found Barry.
Barry, who'd been struck by lightning himself after a particle accelerator malfunction.
Barry, whose accident not only put him in a coma for nine months, but also infused him with interesting abilities that defied all logic.
Barry Allen, also known as, The Flash.
When the two of them met, the sparks between them weren't just metaphorical.
A good friend once told Barry that he felt the lightning that struck him wasn't random; that maybe that lightning chose Barry for a reason.
If that's the case, both Carson and Barry pulled lightning from the sky.
The two of them meeting had to be more than a coincidence.
"Yeah." Carson gasps, watching the electricity arc between his chest and Barry's hand. "That's pretty damn awesome."
"You know," Barry says, leaning in close to kiss Carson's neck, sending sparks sizzling over that sensitive skin, "most people joke about finding someone whose demons play nicely with theirs. For us, that's more than just a saying. And since I can only do this with you, you know what that means."
"What does it mean?"
"It means …" Barry curls his hand into a fist, lets the current break and dissolve "… we belong together. No matter what, Carson. If I'm in the middle of a case and we don't see one another for days, or you get called out of bed late at night to cover a story, we're two parts of the same whole, and that will never change."
Carson nods. He winds his arms around Barry's shoulders and hugs him tight. "I think you might be right."
Barry brushes back hair that had steadily been creeping into Carson's face so he can see the latent charge in his blue eyes. "I love you, Carson."
Carson smiles. He closes in for a kiss, a single thread of electricity jumping from his lips to Barry's. "I love you, too."