seventy-eight.

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[ the most risqué thing i've ever written follows, but oddly enough, it is dedicated to kurtsroyalty- , who adores kurt in a suit even more than i do. everyone else, i am so sorry for giving this story an R rating lmao. i hope this isn't as awfully written as i think it is ]

           LINDY HAD ALWAYS been intensely aware of how much she needed Kurt. She had spent several years without him and was familiar with the furious ache she felt when he was absent. Even when they were only temporarily separated, her longing was still present as she'd try to instead look forward to their reunions rather than focus on him being gone.

Although Kurt had barely been away more than three days, this span of time had felt like many years fast forwarded between them. Lindy had been so sure that she had not forgotten the little things about Kurt; the way he smelt, his beard prickling along her face when he kissed her and even the way his hands gripped her body against his.

But those three days had been detrimental. They'd produced a kind of need in both Lindy and Kurt that could not be satiated with a few mild kisses and cuddling and Lindy relished in those little things that she had once taken advantage of.

The whole way back to Lindy's luxury French hotel, Kurt had drawn lines with his fingers up and down her jean-clad legs in the back of his driver's car. She'd clenched her fists when his hand would tickle the slope of her inner thigh, teasing her into almost begging him not to stop.

Somehow, the first few buttons on Kurt's crisp white long sleeve had come undone. His suit was more rumpled than before, creased in places where Lindy's hands had touched. His tie was looser around his neck, pulled that way by Kurt as he'd gotten closer to Lindy in the backseat of the car.

Once dropped off and standing in the middle of the Parisian sidewalk, Kurt took charge by pulling Lindy through the hotel and into the luckily open elevator.

"Funny how we've done this before," Lindy smiled coyly as the large doors to the elevator closed and sealed them away from the eyes of passing by guests. She was surprised when Kurt maintained a distance between them.

"I like to enjoy things multiple times," Kurt told her. He stepped forward and hooked his thumbs through her belt loops, jolting her a few inches forward.

"Movies, songs, books . . . you," Kurt murmured, his nose skimming her face when he leaned in to kiss her neck.

"I can relate," Lindy said, attempting to joke but failing as she felt her knees wobble. If the elevator did not deliver them to her floor soon enough, she'd end up ripping Kurt's suit off of him right then and there. He was different in it, his handsome demeanor magnified by the proper way each suit piece fit into the next. No matter his punk-ish physical appearance, Kurt and that suit had been made for each other, or at least Lindy thought so as she eyed him up and down.

"We only have one night together," Lindy reminded him, walking backwards out of the elevators doors and smirking when Kurt stumbled ardently after her before the doors could place a barrier between them.

"I'm aware," Kurt grimaced. Lindy eagerly unlocked her hotel door, slinking inside and closing it once Kurt joined her. When she remembered what she wore beneath her clothes, she smiled smugly, all the more ready to be out of them.

"So what happened to killing me and all that? No murder taking place tonight?" he taunted. 

"It depends on how this goes."

She found Kurt's lips and speedily met them with her own, her fingers rushing down his suit front and searching for a way to remove his clothes. She may have favored the suit, but the thought of it being off of him sparked greater excitement in Lindy than before. Kurt stopped her, catching her by her wrists.

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now