Je ne t'attendais pas (4/?)
Sebastian was concentrating before the show. He wasn’t actually stressed but he was eager to see if Kurt would show up or not. He had not lied earlier. The four years that had passed had been good to him; he was still delicate but less flamboyant, his clothes were a lot plainer (or so it seemed at least) and his face was more relaxed. He was totally hot and Sebastian always ended up with a hot guy in his bed on his show nights. Why not him after all? It had been a while since he last fucked an English speaker. And whilst French was very poetic, it just wasn’t a language for sex.
His guitarist and best friend Guillaume interrupted his train of thoughts.
“Seb? C’est à nous!”
He got up, plastered his most flirtatious smile on his face, got on the stage, and began to sing.
Je suis un missionaire de la drague je l’avoue (I’m a flirt missionary I confess)
He immediately spotted Kurt who was leaning on the bar and detailed his look while singing. He was wearing a simple but very tight pair of jeans, a shirt with all sorts of beige with a classy jacket and a pair of brown boots. He really was gorgeous.
Mais j’me foutais d’sa vie
Et surtout de son avis
Beaucoup moins de son envie
Tu veux pas… je reste en vie.
(I didn’t give a fuck about his life
Or about his opinion
But I did care about his wants
Don’t you want… I stay alive.)
He decided to look directly at Kurt for the rest of the song.
Je suis un machistador
Et je crois qu’il m’adore
Non, non, non
Y’a pas d’error
Machistador
(I am a machistador
And I think he adores me
No, no, no
There’s no error
Machistador)
Kurt was stunned. Of course this motherfucker would sing a French song saying he was a man-eater. Of fucking course. And he had to look at Kurt right in the eyes the entire song while he was dancing like he was born to turn people on. If he wanted to play unfair, Kurt was definitely going to challenge him. After all, he hadn’t hooked up in a while and the mojito he had just finished way too quickly for someone who had traveled for 8 hours was beginning to go on his head.
He went just in front of the stage and began to dance very sensually, at first alone and then with a random girl who seemed far too happy about it. He was swaying his hips behind her but he was only ever looking at Sebastian.
By the time his five songs were finished, Sebastian was half-hard. Thank god, concentrating on the lyrics had helped, he had discovered, because he wasn’t sure he would have been able not to jump off the stage and rip Kurt’s clothes off.
After doing his duty by talking to his band mates in the wings about how good the audience was, he disappeared searching for Kurt. When he finally found him, he took him by the wrist and brought him to the bar.
“4 shooters de Vodka Caramel, s’il vous plait.”
Kurt grinned. “Somebody wants to get wasted tonight… Do you already want to forget my incredible dance moves?”
“Two of them are for you, silly! And for the record, I’ve always danced better than you.”
The barman handed them their shooters and not even thirty seconds later the glasses were empty.
Kurt usually held his drink, but he was definitely drunk now. And Sebastian also felt very tipsy himself, though he would never admit it. They began to dance around each other, but Kurt wasn’t as close to him as Sebastian would have liked him to be. When he saw Kurt looking around in concern, Sebastian understood the matter and whispered to him “We’re in Paris, babe. No one’s gonna bug us because we’re two guys. Just relax.”
Kurt sighed in relief and began to loosen up.
A girl’s band was now playing.
Approche toi, bébé
Approche toi
Accroche moi, des baisers
Accroche moi
(Come close baby
Come close
Catch me, kisses
Catch me)
Kurt looked absolutely disheveled and that made him even hotter in Sebastian’s opinion. He could also smell Kurt and even if he could not recognize his cologne it was definitely appealing. He closed his eyes to just feel the moment.
Allez danse danse danse autour de moi
Et je danse danserai pour toi
(Come on, dance, dance, dance around me
And I’ll dance, dance for you)
Sebastian was sweating and his simple white shirt was a little stuck on his torso, revealing that Sebastian was actually in very good shape. Kurt was dancing around Sebastian, but he now wanted to not only see him but feel him too.
Nos corps qui se frôlent
Qui se collent, s’entremêlent,
Et là sur ton épaule, se love un goût de sel…
(Our bodies are brushing against each other
They’re stuck; they’re becoming entangled
And there on your shoulder, a salty taste is coiling up)
Kurt wasn’t sober enough to understand everything, but the lyrics were definitely about bodies, dance and being close. Oh god. Like he needed that to be even harder than he already was. Just dancing at first for Sebastian and then with him had been enough of a turn on for him… He couldn’t hold it any longer. He took Sebastian’s face in his hands and planted a wet and drunken kiss on his mouth. Sebastian didn’t need a better signal to start touching him everywhere he could in a public place, however accepting. Back, arms, torso, hair, ass, nothing was enough. Kurt was moaning in Sebastian’s mouth. Their tongues were melting, there was biting at lower lips, at ears, kisses in the neck. They were both too drunk to understand what was exactly going on between them, except the feeling of close, close, and more.
They kissed passionately for several minutes until they were both panting. Kurt rested his head against Sebastian’s jaw. When Sebastian started to lean in to kiss him again, Kurt pushed him away.
“Wait, Sebastian, stop.”