Their texts are rarely longer than one word. It's fast. Efficient – like their hook-ups.

Tonight?

-OK.

The door is open. Kurt lets himself in. It's never open for long (who would do that, in New York, unless they had a death wish?) and sometimes he misses his slot. He never rings the bell, and Sebastian doesn't stoop to answer it. Either the door is open or it isn't.

He enters the apartment and hangs up his jacket. This is usually the only part of undressing he does himself. Sebastian walks up, nods, and reaches for Kurt's shirt collar. Before he can use it to tug Kurt closer, Kurt covers his hand and keeps the fabric tight.

"No. Not this time," he says, and starts to unbutton his shirt. "I want to keep this one."

Sebastian frowns, but lets go right away. He notices how this shirt is nicer than the others.

"I have a date later," Kurt explains.

Sebastian looks towards the door, sees Kurt's jacket, but no bag. He normally brings a change of clothes and Sebastian knows that the things he wears when he comes to see him are old. Cast-offs, to be dirtied or ripped as they please and thrown away after. It's something of a uniform for him, Sebastian supposes, something that separates Kurt's actual life (and his sense of fashion) from the things they do here. He doesn't mind- recognises some of the shirts, even, from high school, and when he does it's a little bit of a turn-on. But not as much as feeling the fabric tear away under his fingers. They never talk about it, but Sebastian knows Kurt enjoys it as much as he does. Apparently, today is different.

He doesn't ask about the date. That is not the level of intimacy they share. Instead, he quietly waits for Kurt to slip the shirt off his shoulders and step out of his jeans. Kurt doesn't elaborate, and spends a lot of time diligently brushing the folds from his shirt before hanging it over a chair back. This feels as unusual for him as it does for Sebastian, because now one of their rituals is missing. Sebastian likes to start with a comment or two about Kurt's attire, which is Kurt's cue to volley back and dare him to do something about it. They get in character that way.

"Well?" Kurt asks, though his voice lacks his usual cocky confidence.

"Yeah," Sebastian replies, reaching down to remind his erection it is still needed. He steps closer, using his height to his advantage to crowd Kurt back against the wall. Kurt gasps as the cold stone hits his back, and the small widening of his eyes gives Sebastian that little kick-start he needs. He grabs Kurt's shoulders and presses him further against the surface, trapping him between the wall and his body, and kisses his lips. Kurt pushes back, but he struggles like someone who isn't really interested in winning his freedom. As Sebastian slips a knee between his thighs, the pushing becomes a grinding, and Kurt's hands start pulling him closer, fingers threading in Sebastian's hair and the loops of his jeans. There's nothing gentle about his touch- their roles slowly reverse and Kurt's embrace becomes that of a siren, reeling Sebastian in as he tries to keep from drowning. Once- twice – they flip each other over while Sebastian worms out of his clothes, a silent battle of wills only commented by low grunts and sharp hisses as they suck hard kisses into each other's skin, both knowing exactly how hard to press to sting without leaving a mark. When they are both naked, Kurt is the one to give in. He turns his back towards Sebastian and braces himself against the wall, shooting him a look of played revulsion over his shoulder. Sebastian offers him the smirk he expects to see.

"What are you waiting for, Smythe?" Kurt taunts. Sebastian ignores him because he knows that actually sets Kurt more on edge, and instead he takes his time rolling down a condom onto himself and opening a packet of lube to slick up. He presses his lubed fingers between Kurt's legs, nudging his feet further apart by kicking at his ankle, and touches himself in the same rhythm as he thrusts his fingers in. Kurt bites back a sigh and closes his eyes tightly. Sebastian can feel Kurt is still tense, but all the same he is pushing back impatiently. Sebastian aligns himself and presses inside.

Kurt inhales sharply and laughs. "Are you in yet?" he mocks, daring Sebastian to slam in harder, and with an irritated "Shut up, Hummel," Sebastian complies.

It doesn't take long, both of them getting off on the rawness of it, their bodies colliding hard enough to bruise but their mouths careful to never let their words brush more than the surface. Last names, hissed insults – no praise and no vows. No promises.

This was the last time, Kurt tells himself as he buttons himself back up in his clothes and his dignity, and he means it too- just as he means it every time they are done. It helps him keep guilt at bay, keeps him from thinking about his dad and what he'd say, or what a therapist would make of it that he's seeking out this strange, consensual echo of abuse. He doesn't think about Sebastian's part much. He knows their arrangement is mutually satisfying, but he's sure the boy would have no trouble finding someone else if he stopped coming. It helps to know that Sebastian has no expectations of him. Who knows, maybe, when this date works out, he won't need this any more. Their goodbyes are as informal as their hellos (I'm off then. -Whatever. Close the door.).

Sebastian watches from his window as Kurt crosses the street, his ear already on his cellphone, eager to get back to his life. For the first time that evening, he allows himself a brief moment to feel.

"Goodnight, Kurt," he says quietly, watching the other boy disappear into traffic.