"So, this one's full," Kurt announces, taping up a box marked Donation Clothes and pushing it aside. "What else we got?"

Sebastian looks around at the nearly empty room. What had started out as a simple renovation of an old 'catch-all' room into a brand new home theater turned into a community service project when Kurt discovered a mountain of outdated clothes gathering dust in one of the closets. A lot of it was still stylish, and therefore, salvageable; some of it didn't fit; but quite a bit of it, circa Sebastian's college years before he and Kurt got together, they agreed not to talk about. He had apparently gone through an unfortunate grunge stage, for which Kurt swore he might never forgive him unless drastic steps were taken immediately.

Even now, as they busily fold up the offensive articles and toss them into boxes with extreme prejudice, the atmosphere surrounding the two men is tense.

"Uh, just…whatever's in that closet," Sebastian says, motioning to a door on the opposite side of the room, "and then I think we'll be done."

"Okeydokey." Kurt assembles a medium-sized cardboard box and attacks this final obstacle, doing his part to rid the world of any evidence that Sebastian Smythe ever wore flannel. Even though they've agreed that pretty much everything goes, Kurt can't help perusing each item one by one, picturing a young Sebastian Smythe, hair long and unruly, dressed in oversized t-shirts that barely reach the belt of torn jeans sagging past the waistband of his boxers, hanging out at coffee shops in Manhattan, drinking espresso and reading Faust, while he smokes an unfiltered cigarette and waits for his next big mistake to walk by.

Ok, so, as far as Sebastian tells it, nearly none of that is true, but the romantic artiste that still resides within Kurt can't help imagining it that way. He doesn't want to admit it, but it's not an altogether unattractive look.

Maybe for roleplaying later on? In that case, Kurt might want to save one of the outfits that they're tossing out.

Kurt comes across a pair of ratty corduroy pants and scowls.

Then again, maybe not.

Kurt reaches for the last few pairs of pants hanging, but stops when his hand touches something that's definitely not denim. He feels the rich material under his fingertips, one he's very familiar with, and grins.

"Sebastian Smythe! When on Earth did you buy leather pants?"

Sebastian's head pops up from his own packing. He watches Kurt pull the black pants out of hiding and remove them from their hanger with an amused look in his eyes.

"Oh…uh…a while ago," Sebastian says, not sounding too comfortable with revealing this particular backstory. "I think it was my junior year of college."

"Ugh," Kurt groans, holding them at a distance. "You mean, when you were dating David? Donald? Derrick?"

"Daniel," Sebastian corrects him, but only because petty Kurt can be super-hot when Sebastian presses the right buttons, "and no. I didn't go out with him long enough to necessitate clothing purchases."

"So, aside from the tragic Seattle garage band style choice you mistakenly made, you also dallied around in biker chic? Or can this be categorized as fetish wear?"

"I think the term used at the time was alternative." Sebastian gets up from his spot on the floor to join his husband, who's sashaying over with pants in hand and a delightedly hungry expression.

"So, you bought these, what?" Kurt pries, needing more information to go along with the pants. "For an audition? Or a job interview? Or…"

"You seem awfully interested in why I bought these pants," Sebastian remarks, not that he minds. He can see Kurt's brain working, which he's certain will mean calling an end to the menial labor for a while.

"Because you've never bought anything like these since you and I have been together" - Kurt looks from the pants in his hands to Sebastian's body and bites his lower lip – "and it seems like such a pity."

Sebastian watches Kurt size him up, licking his lips subconsciously, fingernails biting into those pants as if he were curling them into Sebastian's skin. "This…really turns you on, doesn't it?"

"Maybe." Kurt sighs. "It just makes me so sad to think that I missed your alternative phase."

"What phase?" Sebastian laughs, reaching past the pants and winding an arm around Kurt's waist. "One pair of pants does not a phase make. You went through more of an alternative phase than I did."

"That's right. But unlike me, you got to enjoy my tattoo…and my pierced tongue," Kurt pouts. "I think it's a shame that I missed seeing you in your leather pants. You should really make it up to me."

"To be honest, I think I've only worn them twice." Sebastian runs his lips down the column of Kurt's neck, hoping to catch a shiver. "I bought them because I thought they'd get me lucky. I didn't realize how tight they were…how hot they get…"

"Yeah?" Kurt moans, leaning to one side so Sebastian will caress his skin again. "If you put them on, I promise you, you're going to get lucky."

"Well, if that's the case" – Sebastian slips his free hand down Kurt's front, running a hand over his already rock hard cock – "can't we just skip to the part where you're straddling me naked, screaming my name? Or…vice versa?"

Sebastian's mouth meets Kurt's, his tongue slipping between Kurt's lips as he strokes him through his jeans.

"Mmm," Kurt hums into his husband's kiss, feeling himself grow impossibly harder against his palm. God, Kurt wants him. He loves when his husband gets like this, down to fuck after just one kiss. Kurt could take him right now – spin him around, bend him over, and get his fill of him. He could make it as dirty as he wanted. He could have Sebastian wrapped around his finger. They don't need anything to get them there - no bells and whistles, no props…

No pants…

Sinfully tight leather pants, hugging Sebastian's hips, cradling his ass, the outline of his erection so obscenely obvious that Kurt could trace every vein with his tongue without even undoing the fly…

Kurt whimpers.

On second thought…

Kurt takes a full step back from Sebastian's embrace, breaking their kiss with a wet pop. "Nope," he says, shoving the pants into Sebastian's arms. "Put these on. Now."