[personal profile] wowbright

Fic summary: An unlikely friendship forms. Dave learns to love himself, Blaine learns to trust love, and Kurt learns that love is both simpler and a lot more complicated than he expected. AU from 3.05 with canon elements.
Chapter summary: The Hudmels have a barbeque and everyone’s invited.  ~9,150 words.
Chapter notes: This is the penultimate chapter. Gonna do my best to get the last one up before the season starts again, barring hell and high water.
Rating: NC-17

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Note: Chapters on AO3 are numbered differently due to factors beyond my control.

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Chapter 30: Learning to Fly

The three boys sometimes spend entire days in the bedroom, but usually they're not quite so single-minded. They eat and read and hang out on Kurt’s couch or in Dave’s yard and talk in general terms about plans for next year; when they’re at Blaine’s house, Dave and Blaine take turns at the piano while Kurt listens from the window seat with half-closed eyes.

He loves when they play the Poulenc duet together: the movements of the muscles in their shoulder blades and arms; the arching and stretching of their fingers; the expressions on their faces; the way that Blaine rocks with the music while Dave keeps most of the movement confined to his hands and his sometimes-tapping feet. They’re so different in so many ways, and yet they move so perfectly together, make the piano sing in a way that neither of them alone can do.

Kurt brings Blaine snapdragons from his garden because they remind him of his lips. For Dave, he brings masculine arrangements of amaranth and ivy, ferns and hosta leaves, reeds and Shasta daisies. Dave always pins something from the bouquet to his shirt like a boutonnière, but whatever it is usually ends up crushed by the end of the day from constant hugging.

Still, Dave takes the boutonnières home along with the bouquets. He presses them in an old unabridged dictionary between pieces of clean newsprint. They may not live forever, he tells himself, but they'll always be beautiful.

* * *

Blaine loves watching Kurt with Dave.

He loves the way that the cherry red of Kurt's desire creeps from his collarbone and up his neck to the cleft of his chin and his high cheekbones; how it snakes down his chest, rosing his nipples and his belly and spreading flush through his hard, twitching cock.

He loves watching Kurt's legs spread wide for Dave, his hole quiver from each touch, loves hearing the little choked off sounds he makes when he’s been teased too long and Kurt starts begging to have more of Dave inside him.

He loves watching Kurt sink down over Dave, loves the way Kurt stretches around Dave's thick cock and takes him in – sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but always with an indelible hunger, a sweet, steady rocking, a soft oh and then a louder oh and then a chanting of Dave's name, of Blaine's name, over and over until the sounds blur together.

Blaine wants to get them naked at every opportunity. He'd almost think he looked forward to it more than Kurt and Dave if it wasn't for the desperate gulping sounds they make when they finally start fucking, like they've been living in a room without oxygen and suddenly someone's opened the window and their lungs can breathe again.

He loves that he’s the person who opened that window for them. It makes him feel a part of every touch and kiss.

He loves the things he’s learning about Kurt: new things about the way Kurt’s body moves and feels, new things about what Kurt’s body loves – but most of all, new things about Kurt’s heart and how expansive it is.

Blaine loves Kurt more and more each day, and his love for Dave grows the same way. Their shared love for Kurt makes him feel a type of connection to Dave that Blaine has never felt with any other friend. Each time he sees Dave naked and vulnerable, each time he sees the things Dave does for Kurt, each time he sees how Kurt makes Dave smile, Blaine loves them – and himself – with an intensity he can’t describe.

* * *

After Finn and Carole get back from their trips, the three boys start hanging out almost exclusively at Blaine’s again. It feels like a loss to Kurt, and when he starts to resent his family for it, Kurt asks Dave and Blaine to start coming to his house every once in a while. The three of them obviously can’t make out on the couch when other people are home, but that’s not any different than when it’s just Blaine and Kurt. It’s inconvenient, but it’s workable.

Still, it’s a little awkward the first time Kurt’s dad comes home from the shop to find the three boys reading magazines in the living room (Vogue for Kurt, Model Aviation for Dave, and both for Blaine). Despite the extremely platonic nature of their seating arrangement, Kurt’s nerves nearly send his heart galloping from his chest.

“Oh,” says Burt, pushing his baseball cap back on his head and scratching underneath it. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Yeah.” Kurt barely manages to pitch his voice lower than a squeak. “That’s okay, right? They’re both going home before dinner.”

Burt sets the cap back on his head, adjusting the bill until it sits straight. “Of course. Your friends are always welcome here.”  He gives a little wave. “Hey, boys. Nice to see you again, Dave.”

“Hello, sir,” Blaine and Dave answer in charming unison.

The edges of Burt’s lips twitch upward. “What have I told you two about that ‘sir’ crap?”

Kurt’s heart relaxes a little.

Burt doesn’t say anything about it after Dave leaves, and he doesn’t the next few times Dave’s over, either. But then one afternoon he announces he’s going to grill out and invites Blaine and Dave both to stay for dinner. “I bought three pounds of hamburger meat but Kurt won’t let me eat any of it. Somebody’s got to,” he says when they both hesitate. They acquiesce.

It’s not as stressful as Kurt expects it to be. Dave sits next to Finn and they start talking about baseball and then Burt chimes in and by the time dinner is halfway over it starts to feel like maybe one day his dad could eventually start to like Dave on his own merits. It’s far-fetched, but more improbable things have already come true in Kurt’s life.

Kurt clasps Blaine’s hand at the thought. He avoids looking at Dave because he’s pretty sure his own face is all hope and hearteyes right now.

*

Kurt is helping clean up after the guests are gone when his dad drops the bomb: “Kurt, we need to talk.”

Those words are almost never good.

Kurt turns away from his father and begins loading the dishwasher with ice cream bowls. “What about?”

“Dave seems pretty fond of you and Blaine.”

Kurt doesn’t look up. “Oh?”

“That’s all you’re gonna say? ‘Oh’?”

Kurt shrugs his shoulders as he loads another bowl into the rack. “Is there something else I should say? Friends generally tend to be fond of each other.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” Kurt feels his dad’s hand on his shoulder and tries not to bristle.

“C’mon, Kurt, look at me when I talk to you.”

Kurt turns slowly until he’s meeting his father’s eyes. It still shocks him every time he realizes he’s the same height as his dad now and they can literally see eye-to-eye. (Figuratively is still another matter.) “Okay,” Kurt says. “I’m still not clear what it is you want to talk about.”

Burt steps back and leans against the island, heaving his shoulders with a loud sigh. “I just think you two should maybe go easy on the flirting with him.”

Kurt’s mouth drops open. Jesus, he avoided eye contact with Dave as much as humanly possible tonight, didn’t even give him as much as a goodbye handshake, and still his dad can see everything. They’re screwed.

Kurt composes his face into calm condescension. “We don’t flirt with him.”

Burt responds with his ‘Don’t give me shit son’ look.

“Okay,” Kurt says. “Maybe we flirt a little. But that’s what gay guys do. You’d know that if you’d watched Queer as Folk.”

Burt raises an eyebrow.

“Strike that. Never watch Queer as Folk. My life is nothing like that. Except for the occasional bout of flirting with platonic friends.” Kurt purses his lips so not another word can slip out.

Burt sighs again. “Kurt, I’m sure it feels flattering. But you’re dating Blaine. And you of all people know how tough it is to have a crush on someone who can’t return your feelings.”

“Wait. You’re worried about Dave?”

Burt jolts his head back and blinks his eyes wide. “Um, yeah. I guess I am.”

It’s hard not to throw himself at his father and hug the breath out of him, but Kurt manages to keep his cool. He even manages not to smile. “I don’t think you need to worry about Dave.”

Burt reaches out and touches Kurt’s shoulder. “How about you? Should I be worried about you, and someone with Dave’s history having a crush on you?”

Kurt shakes his head. “No. He’s not being a creepy stalker if that’s what you mean. We’re … we’re honestly friends now, Dad.”

“And you’re okay with your boyfriend flirting with him?”

Kurt chuckles. “Blaine even flirts with girls, Dad. It’s not a big deal.”

Burt folds his arms across his chest. “You sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m positive.”

Burt stares at him, like if he looks at him long enough he’ll finally be able to puzzle out the way his son’s brain works. “Okay,” he says finally. “So what are you going to do about Dave?”

“Why do I have to do something?”

“He’s your friend, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you care about him?”

“Of course I do.” If only I could tell you how much.

“Well, you and Blaine should probably talk to him. Let him down easy.”

Kurt bites his lip. He wonders if he can stick to what’s truthful without revealing the whole truth. He decides to try. “We already have,” he says. “Talked to him, that is.”

“Oh?”

“Um, yeah. He’s our best friend, and he respects what we have. He knows that Blaine and I are serious and we’re not planning to break up. Ever.”

“That’s good,” Burt says, but his words sound choked and his eyes well up with tears. Kurt realizes suddenly that he’s never actually talked with his dad about the future of his relationship with Blaine. Not about the imagined weddings or the dogs or the weekend house in the Berkshires or the artists’ colony in Provincetown. Not even the apartment in New York.

“Dad? Are you okay?” Kurt lays a tentative hand on his father’s arm.

Burt clasps it tight, nodding and sniffling with a half smile. “Yeah. I just –” He shrugs. “It keeps hitting me over and over lately that you’re grown up now. And that’s great. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve become. But it still takes some getting used to.”

“Oh, Dad.” Kurt steps forward and pulls his father into his arms. For the first time, it feels like maybe one day he’ll be able to tell him the whole truth. “You’ll always be my dad.”

* * *

"Look at the tips of its wings. It's just like the rudders of an airplane." Dave takes the binoculars from his face and holds them out for Blaine.

It's a Wednesday afternoon. Kurt's at the garage working with his dad – the House is in recess – and Dave and Blaine have stopped on the side of a country road on the way back from Dayton to eat Twizzlers and watch a red-tail hawk that's gliding over a cornfield. Oddly enough, it was Blaine's idea. He saw a horde of crows flushing it out of the treetops and told Dave to pull over. “I didn’t think you’d want to miss it,” Blaine said when Dave thanked him for pointing it out.

In the back of the car is the first real airplane Dave's owned in years. Not one that any human could fit in, but one that can really fly. Or that will fly, once Dave's taken it out of the box and put it together and practiced on the flight simulator that's tucked in next to it. He's been eyeing both on the internet for months but kept treating it like a fantasy, the same as all that internet porn.

Blaine's the one who found the hobby shop in Dayton. They drove there this morning and had frozen custard for lunch because of the heat, then burned off the calories wandering the aisles of the store. Dave knew what he wanted and what he could afford, but that didn't keep him from marveling at all the options. He and Blaine both agreed that, when Dave got better at this, he should totally buy the plans for the 72-inch 1935 Fairey Fantome fighter biplane and build it from scratch. Because, well, "fairey" and "bi."

And because it was beautiful.

But for now, Dave has a kit for a bright yellow polystyrene beginner's model. It’s not eye-candy, but it should fly.

Blaine hands the binoculars back. The hawk is further away now, heading toward the tree-covered knoll at the back of the field. Dave can hear the crows getting riled up already. The hawk blinks, as if considering whether dinner is worth all that hassle. It tilts its wings and circles back to the safety of the field.

"Twizzler?" Blaine says. It's been five minutes since Dave finished his last one.

Dave lowers the binoculars to his chest. They swing heavily from their strap. "Sure," he says, taking one from the bag. They're soft and a little sticky in the heat, but the sugar cools his tongue. He lets it dangle out of his mouth and slowly slurps it in, the way he used to when he was a kid and thought it was fun to be foolish.

Maybe it still is.

Bare-eyed, he watches the hawk circle. Dave wonders what it feels like up there, to be held up by the air currents as securely as he's being held up by the ground right now. "Can I ask you something personal?" he says after swallowing the last of his Twizzler down.

Blaine is holding his Twizzler like a piece of celery, nibbling delicately at the end. He smiles and shakes his head.

"No, I can't ask you something personal?"

Blaine chuckles. "I'm shaking my head in disbelief that you're even asking me that question."

Dave cocks an eyebrow at Blaine.

"Of course you can ask me something personal. I've cleaned my come off you. I think we've reached a certain level of intimacy."

"I guess." He reaches over to grab another Twizzler out of the bag.

"So what is it?" Blaine says.

"I just –" Dave looks down, twirling the Twizzler nervously around his fingers. "I just wondered if you're getting everything you need."

"You mean, with Kurt and you?"

"Yeah." Dave doesn't feel brave enough to look Blaine in the eye, but he looks toward his face and sees that Blaine is smiling. It's a small smile, but it lights up his whole face, right up to the crinkles at the top of his cheeks.

"Yeah. I'm happy," Blaine says.

"Okay," Dave says. He looks down at his feet, dragging his toes into the roadside gravel. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," Blaine says, nudging his elbow against Dave's. "You don't seem sure, though."

"It's just –" Dave starts. He's been getting slowly better at saying what he thinks, but it's still hard sometimes. "In bed. I just – It's been a lot of me and Kurt, um –" Dave pulls the Twizzler between both hands until it snaps in two. He tosses it onto the ground. "Man, this is hard to say."

"Are you worried that I feel left out or something?"

Dave nods. "Kind of." He draws a triangle in the gravel with his toe.

"I don't." Blaine shifts so he's no longer looking out across the field, but facing Dave instead. "Can you look at me for a second?" He says it patiently, without a hint of command.

So Dave looks at him.

Blaine’s face is earnest, his eyes that same trustworthy gold they always are. "I don't feel left out at all. Okay?"

Dave shrugs. "Okay."

"That wasn't very convincing."

Blaine is never going to let up now that Dave has mentioned it. Which Dave kind of knew in the first place – and was kind of depending on, because it's hard to get this out all by himself. He sighs. "It's just – I, um, do more things with Kurt than you do when we're all ... together."

Blaine furrows his eyebrows and his lips part slightly. He looks genuinely confused. "I thought you knew that I like that." His words are drawn out. Careful.

The heat of the day is enough to pinken Dave's cheeks, but he feels them burn a deeper shade of red than he can blame on the sun alone. "Well, yeah, I guess."

"I love seeing what you do to Kurt, okay? How you make him feel. I love seeing him in love with you."

Dave flinches at those last words. He wants to tell Blaine that he's going too far, that love is the thing that Kurt has for Blaine and whatever Kurt feels for Dave, it can never compare. But his brain feels jumbled and the words can't get out of his throat.

Maybe Blaine catches on to that. Dave's not sure. In any case, Blaine continues. "Everything we do together makes me feel closer to him, whether I'm touching him or not. Sometimes –" Blaine swallows hard, glances away for the first time during this conversation. "It's hard to explain, but I think sometimes I feel closer to him because I'm not touching him. I just – I see different things about him than when I'm lost in him, you know?"

Dave doesn't know, but he can imagine, so he nods.

"And I like seeing you happy, too," Blaine says. "You're my best friend. You seem – freer, lately."

"I am."

They're silent as they turning back toward the field. The hawk has moved away from the trees, and the crows are quiet. There's nothing but the buzz of cicadas and the occasional whoosh of a car passing by.

"Okay," Blaine says after a few minutes. "Since we're on the subject of personal, I have something to tell you."

"Okay."

"So, I've been thinking about the fact that you're going to go off to school before Kurt and I'll have time with him after that, and I feel kind of guilty about it."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"What do you feel guilty about?"

"Lots of things. That I get to be with him longer, that you guys will be apart –"

"I don't think Kurt's going to want to continue this after I leave for school."

"Do you really have no idea?"

"About what?"

"About how Kurt feels about you? It's like you're being deliberately obtuse."

Dave looks down at the gravel and shrugs. “And I was convinced you thought I was acute.” He dares a quick look up to wink.

Blaine chuckles. "You’re not just acute, you’re absolutely adorkable.” He pats Dave on the arm, letting his hand linger and giving a soft squeeze before pulling away. "Anyway, after you go and before Kurt leaves, we'll probably be … intimate together, without you. And it feels weird. Because you guys have never had that chance. Without me."

"Oh." Dave feels a wave of dizziness wash over him. He leans back against the car. "I don't – I haven't – It's not something I've really thought about."

Blaine shrugs. "Well, if you two decide you want to, um, be alone, it's okay with me. Just so you know."

Dave rubs the back of his neck. The spot under the binocular strap is soaked with sweat. "Um, okay." He’s not sure that will ever happen, or that he wants it to happen or, at the very least, he’s pretty sure he’s not ready for that to happen. But it’s sweet of Blaine to say.

“But about your earlier idea,” Blaine clears his throat. “There is something I’ve thought about sometimes that I have reason to believe Kurt would like.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Blaine nods. “Do you know what a ‘Lucky Pierre’ is?”

* * *

Kurt shows up to Blaine’s house at the usual time the next day. He hears the familiar strains of Poulenc through the open window as he walks up to the house, but when he opens the door they come to an abrupt halt.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Kurt says.

“That’s okay,” Blaine says, jumping up from the bench to kiss Kurt on the cheek. “We were just waiting for you. We have a surprise.”

“Oh?” Kurt says, looking between Blaine and Dave, who has swung around on the bench so that his back is now toward the piano. Both of their faces are filled with the most adorable sort of eagerness. “A new duet?” Kurt bends to kiss Dave on the forehead.

Blaine sits back on the bench, linking his arm with Dave’s. “You could call it that,” he says, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his face.

Dave chuckles.

* * *

Kurt’s cheeks turn pink as soon as he sees the bed, it’s white top sheet covered in rose petals.

“You guys,” he says, taking a deep breath and biting his bottom lip. “That’s so sweet.”

Blaine squinches his nose. “Is it too dorky?” The petals were his idea. It was as close as he could come to a threesome in a field of lilacs this time of summer, when most of the lilac blooms have already faded away. But the fragrant yellow tea roses were from Dave’s garden. Blaine filled the rest of the space in with pink rambling rose petals from out back.

Kurt shakes his head and clasps their hands. “No, it’s adorable. And …” The blush creeps higher on Kurt’s cheekbones. “I like the way flower petals feel on my skin.”

“Me, too,” says Dave.

They stand at the foot of the bed, hands linked, unmoving, as if suddenly unsure what they’re supposed to do next.

Kurt breaks the silence. “That was half the appeal of the whole lilac thing, to be honest.”

Blaine nods at the memory of that particularly delicious item on Kurt’s bucket list and all the ways they’ve played with it, but Dave looks confused. “What lilac thing?” he says.

“Oh,” and now Kurt’s nose goes pink. Blaine finds him particularly scrumptious this way. “Um. It used to be a thing on my bucket list. Before … before Blaine. To have, um, relations with Taylor Lautner in a field of lilacs.”

Dave looks at Kurt with a lopsided smile. “Taylor Lautner, huh?”

Kurt coughs. “You don’t think he has a certain animal magnetism?”

Dave squeezes his hand. “He does. But you have more.”

“Oh my god, Dave, that was so cheesy.” Kurt’s smile is so big that it almost hides his eyes.

Dave’s smile is a mirror reflection of Kurt’s. “You don’t like it when I’m cheesy?”

“I do,” Kurt says, pecking him on the cheek. Blaine’s heart does a happy somersault.

“Anyway, it’s true,” Dave says. “I mean, I guess I would do Taylor Lautner if he asked, but I’d much rather do you.”

Kurt leans into Dave’s shoulder with kisses and guffaws, pulls Blaine into the warm embrace of their bodies. It feels so unbelievably good to be there with both of them, warm and safe and wrapped in their arms and their love. Blaine is so lucky to have this in his life, to feel it grow into something larger every day.

“So what’s the occasion, anyway?”

“Oh,” says Blaine, pulling his lips away from Kurt’s earlobe. “Um, Dave and I thought –” He looks up at Dave for help, but then thinks about all the diagrams he had to draw after mentioning the idea to Dave just to make it clear exactly what he meant. So he should probably try to do the explaining again this time around. He nods to Dave to go back to licking Kurt’s neck, and moves his own lips back to Kurt’s ear, dropping his voice to the sexiest possible register and murmuring, “We thought we could both fuck you at the same time. If you want.”

“Oh.” Kurt’s eyes go wide, his fingers curling tightly into Dave’s biceps. “That sounds … nice.”

“Just ‘nice’?”

“Well,” Kurt bites his lip as Dave moves down to lavish a long kiss on his collarbone. “I … I like fucking. And I like … how you both feel. But I’m not sure I can stretch that much.”

It strikes Blaine as an odd answer at first, because Kurt is the most flexible person he knows. But then he realizes – in a sudden, graphic way that makes his cock stir with more interest than he would have expected – exactly what Kurt means. Blaine had kind of forgotten that was humanly possible, even though he’s seen it in porn a few times.

“Oh,” Blaine says, at a loss for words.

Dave comes to his rescue. “He means me inside you,” a lazy lick up Kurt’s throat, a gorgeous kiss against his lips, “and you inside him.”

“Oh,” Kurt breathes again, his eyes going even wider. “That sounds even –” he doesn’t finish his sentence, goes straight to thrusting his tongue in Blaine’s mouth, then Dave’s, then Blaine’s again. “Yes,” he says, finally breaking to catch his breath. “I would like that very much.”

* * *

And that's how Kurt ends up on all fours on Blaine's bed, Dave sliding his index finger in and out of his ass while Blaine teases the outside of Kurt's hole with his thumb. Kurt is warm and slick and perfect as always, his hole so sexy in the way it clings and stretches, and Dave is aching just from this, from being allowed to touch Kurt this way.

"More," Kurt sighs. "Want more."

"Good," whispers Blaine. "We want to give you more."

Blaine winks at Dave and presses the tip of his index finger against Kurt's opening, right alongside Dave's finger. Kurt's hole quivers and swallows and Blaine's finger starts to disappear, except it hasn't disappeared at all – Dave can feel Blaine's knuckles sliding against his own as Blaine sinks deeper in.

Kurt hums and presses back until Blaine is all the way in, the back of his hand pressing against the back of Dave's. It's intimate, so intimate and sweet and they both move in and out together in perfect time, their two hands working as one.

"Oh fuck, you both … inside …" Kurt looks over his shoulder at them, toward the pair of hands nestled in his crack. "Fuck." His head falls on the pillow, jostling the rose petals on it.

Blaine leans over him, resting his free hand next to the pillow. "Is that a good 'fuck'?" he whispers gently.

Kurt nods and bites Blaine's wrist.

"I’m glad," Blaine murmurs. “Tell us if this feels good, too.” He looks over his shoulder at Dave and mouths countertempo with a questioning eyebrow.

Dave's cock grows harder at the word. Blaine holds his finger in as Dave starts to pull his out – not all the way, just enough to get Kurt quivering a little more. As soon as Dave starts to push back in, Blaine starts to pull away, their fingers moving in opposite directions. Back and forth, back and forth, they slide against each other and inside Kurt, and Kurt growls like an animal, swears, "Oh my fucking god," bites the pillow and thrusts his hips in small circles around them, then larger ones as he turns onto his back ("Have to see you, have to see you both"), crushing rose petals as he goes and releasing their perfume into the air.

He’s so breathtaking: his cock hard and leaking, his cheeks and collarbone gorgeously flushed, his legs spread open for them, and his nipples taut. Dave rubs the thumb of his free hand over Kurt's left nipple as he works another finger into Kurt.

Kurt’s face screws up in pleasure. “Oh god,” he whines. “Don’t think I’m gonna make it to the fucking. You –” His mouth falls open, panting. “Feel so good.”

Blaine bends over and kisses him. “It’s okay,” he whispers reassuringly. “We have all day. You can come as many times as you need to.” And with that, Blaine works another finger into Kurt, matching Dave two-for-two.

* * *

It's the most Kurt's ever taken, and it feels … incredible. He wonders momentarily if maybe he could take both their dicks at once.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, desire vibrating through his body. He looks down toward the foot of the bed to see Blaine and Dave staring fixedly at his ass, mouths slightly open in something like awe.

"Fucking god." Kurt arches his back. "Want you to feel this good. Want you both –"

Blaine picks up the small bottle of lube that sits next to him at the foot of the bed and hands it to Dave, who tips it into Blaine's free hand, then slicks the lube up and down each of Blaine's fingers.

Fuck, that's hot.

And then Blaine is spreading his knees apart, reaching his free hand around his back and oh teasing his own asshole as he fucks in and out of Kurt’s.

Electricity courses up and down Kurt’s spine as he watches Blaine. Even though he can’t see Blaine’s hand, he can tell the moment that Blaine slides the first finger in from the expression on his face and the tender grunt of pleasure he makes. Blaine bites his bottom lip and his movements inside Kurt becomes more erratic, the syncopation with Dave even less predictable.

It feels amazing.

With questioning eyebrows, Dave begins to touch his own cock – tentatively at first, until he registers Kurt’s encouraging smile, his mouth open with longing. Kurt’s never seen Dave touch himself before; it’s fascinating and hot and gorgeous, seeing Dave’s hand circled around his cock as the fingers of his other hand work inside Kurt’s ass. Kurt wonders about all the times Dave’s touched himself alone in his room thinking of him, and if he ever used to fantasize about this, all three of them together, sweaty and aching for more.

He watches his boyfriends touch themselves, their cocks get progressively harder and more erect, their faces sublime with pleasure – and still their fingers are so gentle inside him, softly grazing along his most sensitive spot for the perfect segments of time: enough to push him close to the edge, and closer again, without pushing him over it.

“This,” moans Kurt, thrusting himself around his boyfriends’ fingers, delighting in the stretch and the pressure and tempted to beg for more. His hips spark and his ass is clenching, clenching, unclenching, and he knows if he touches his own cock he’ll be a goner, so he doesn’t.

He grabs their thighs and murmurs, "Kiss me," and they both move toward his mouth at once, stopping inches away from his face to look at each other with polite deference. Kurt can read the wordless conversation in their eyebrows. You first, Blaine, and No you first, Dave, back and forth and back and forth and –

"Jesus Christ, stop being so polite." Kurt yanks them to his face and kisses them both, turning his head side to side until they get the idea and they're each sucking at a corner of his mouth. He feels Blaine's tongue against his and then Dave's and then Blaine's again and sometimes both of them, each flickering lightly against an edge.

Technically, it's not the best kiss Kurt's ever experienced. It's sloppy and a little difficult to get the hang of and he can't really wrap his tongue around either of theirs, but fuck when Blaine nibbles on the lower corner of his lip and Dave sucks on the opposite corner of his upper lip – it’s heaven.

"Wanna watch for a minute," Blaine whispers as he pulls away. "Wanna watch you together." He pulls his fingers slowly out of Kurt and Dave slides another one in and it’s not the same feeling but it’s almost the same fullness and Kurt takes it, feels his whole body loose and in love.

Blaine lies on his side next to them, his breath brushing against Kurt’s ear and neck, one of his legs pulled up toward his chest as he keeps fucking his own ass with his fingers. Kurt lets himself get lost in it, lost in being watched and lost in Dave’s fingers and lips and tongue. Dave hasn't shaved since this morning and has just the slightest hint of stubble on his jaw, and Kurt loves it – the newness of each time with Dave, the new things he discovers about Dave's body and skin, the new things he discovers about Blaine and the things he discovers about himself.

“You’re so gorgeous, Kurt,” Blaine whispers through the kisses. “Love watching you. Love the way Dave makes you feel. Can’t wait until you feel his cock inside you, until I feel you inside me, want you to feel how much we love you. We love you so much.”

Dave kisses him and kisses him and oh god more stretch as Dave slides another finger in and it’s yes and Kurt can hear the squelch of lube around Dave’s cock as he strokes himself harder and he can hear Blaine’s jerky, panting breaths and it makes Kurt’s heart hammer in his chest and his cock, makes his whole body ache with need, and if he doesn’t come now he’s going to spurt as soon as they start fucking and it will all be over before it begins.

So he lets himself feel – Dave’s body and Blaine’s breath and all that love, so much love, and he slides his hand down his chest and grips his cock and with that single, solid touch the orgasm rips through him and he spills out onto his belly, thick and warm.

* * *

Watching Kurt come under Dave, his ass stretched open for Dave’s fingers and his mouth open for Dave’s tongue – Blaine doesn’t know why it’s so hot, but it is. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world, but it does.

His heart feels warm and his body feels loved and his own ass clenches in sympathy around his fingers and he keeps fucking himself but he doesn’t let himself come. That’s for later. Right now, he wants to bask in the glow of Kurt’s orgasm, wants to watch Kurt’s skin flare red and then fade to pink, wants to watch the way Kurt keeps kissing Dave as their bodies spasm and relax. He wants to watch Dave stroke himself through the kisses, stroke until his own body jerks and his cock flows – flows because of Kurt and every amazing thing that he is.

*

“Oh god, I think I’m dead,” Kurt says. “I’m dead and covered in come and rose petals.”

“Only la petite mort, I hope,” Blaine murmurs, spooning against Kurt’s back.

“Yes.” Kurt sighs, catching his breath. “Only la petite mort.”

Dave looks up from where he’s resting his head against Kurt’s chest. “What’s la petite mort?”

“‘The little death,’” Blaine says. “It’s a euphemism for a mind-blowing orgasm.”

“Oh,” Dave smiles. “So it’s a good thing?”

“A very good thing,” says Kurt and promptly dozes off.

Blaine gets a washcloth to clean the worst of the mess off, rearranging the surviving rose petals on the sheets and adding new ones from a vase on his dresser. By the time he’s done, Dave’s asleep, too.

Blaine loves these moments, when Kurt and Dave are sleeping and he can watch them breathe together through slightly parted lips. It feels almost as intimate as the sex. Hardly anyone else gets to see them this way, and they’re both so beautiful – fully relaxed, the knee-jerk defenses of their waking hours gone.

He climbs back in the bed and cuddles against Kurt, reaching around him to rest one hand on Dave’s arm. They’re warm and solid and he loves them both so much. It’s a huge kind of love, he thinks: the kind of love that can carry him through even when they’re physically apart, even on days when they can’t find the right words to say to each other.

He’s finally beginning to understand that now.

* * *

Kurt is the first to wake up. He’s hard again, partly because he needs to pee and partly because he fell so deep that he started to dream – beautiful, hushed dreams of bodies touching in the sunlight, the three of them naked together on a picnic blanket in the open, making love and not worrying about who might see.

When he gets back from the bathroom, Blaine and Dave are half awake, their heads on a shared pillow, smiling. Kurt lowers himself between their bodies, his chin resting on the curve where their shoulders meet. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of their bodies and feels their skin against the length of his own. The blood returns to his cock and he whispers into their ears, “I want you to fuck me.”

The logistics of exactly what is supposed to happen are confusing to Kurt, but Dave and Blaine seem to be on the same page, so he lets them lead him through it in a heady blur of touch and kissing and desire-filled murmurs. Kurt’s not sure his brain is working at all, not with all the kisses and the press of their bodies against his and the little soft moans coming from each of them and their erections, heavy and full against his cock and his ass and in his hands.

They roll him onto his back, his skin pressed against the blanket of rose petals, each lapping briefly at his cock before rolling a condom onto it. He watches as Blaine rolls a second condom onto Dave, closes his eyes and lets himself feel as Dave positions himself at the end of the bed, hiking each of Kurt’s legs over a shoulder, and gently presses the head of his cock against where Kurt is quivering with want.

“Oh, please,” Kurt murmurs, opening his eyes and looking at Dave. Blaine is next to him, his eyes dark with want. He reaches out and clasps their hands. “Please.”

Dave starts to push in, gentle and unhurried. Kurt watches Dave’s face, agonized and ecstatic, and he watches Blaine watching the place where Dave and Kurt are joined. Blaine’s mouth hangs open in wonder as Kurt opens so easily around Dave, his body beckoning him in. It’s a long, continuous slide, everything wet and slick, no need to pause in the journey until Dave is buried inside him, and Blaine reaches for his own cock and lets out a stifled moan.

“Kiss me,” Kurt says. Dave does first, folding his body over Kurt’s to cling to his lips, to lick sweetly into his mouth as he shifts his cock slightly, burying himself just a little deeper inside Kurt, making Kurt feel so stretched and expansive and full of joy.

And then Blaine is kissing him, kissing him gentle and sweet, soft teasing licks as he crawls over Kurt’s body, settling down with a knee on either side of Kurt’s torso, and starts to slide the cleft of his ass over Kurt’s cock, and Kurt is both full and yearning to fill and everything feels so much more acute than it did that time when it was just Blaine and his toy and their fantasy. His body is filled with a confusion of sparks and light.

“Oh god,” Kurt chokes. “This is really happening.”

Dave goes still and Blaine goes still and Kurt opens his eyes. Blaine’s face is hovering above his, with eyes so close, so beautiful – dark black and ringed with gold. “Hey,” he whispers. “Is it too much?”

Kurt shakes his head, clutching their hands. “It’s not too much,” he says. “Just … a lot more than I expected. It’s … it’s good.”

Blaine kisses him again and Dave kisses his hand and Kurt starts moving then – just a small twist of his hip, the slightest gyration, but it’s enough to make Dave gasp, enough to get Blaine sliding up and down the length of Kurt’s cock in a tortuous, thrilling tease that sparks through his pelvis.

Kurt’s brain is focusing more on the feel of Dave's cock moving in his ass, of feeling open and spread apart and perfectly filled, and of the impossible tight heat of Blaine descending around him.

* * *

It’s a good thing that Blaine drew all those diagrams, otherwise Dave would have no idea how to do this. Or, rather, to do it in a way that felt right.

Because Dave has seen people do this in porn with a chain of guys back-to-front, back-to-front, linked by assholes and dicks. The guy in front is usually on all fours, moaning as his ass gets fucked by the guy in the middle, who’s on his knees and his having his ass fucked by the guy behind him. And you’d think that the guy in the middle has the best of both worlds – that’s why he’s called the Lucky Pierre, right? But usually he looks like he’s doing all of the work for the three of them, fucking into the guy in front of him and onto the guy behind him, back and forth, back and forth, and by the time he comes he looks ready to sleep for days.

But Blaine’s version is a lot more – what’s the word? Equitable. Kurt lying on his back, legs open, calves draped across Dave’s shoulders. Blaine in front of Dave, his lower back against Dave’s belly, his face toward Kurt’s, his ass currently teasing the hell out of Kurt’s cock. Kurt’s ass clenches in pleasure every time Blaine rubs his hole over the tip of Kurt’s cock. It feels incredible, and Kurt looks incredible: open-mouthed and panting, eyes squeezing shut and then opening wide with pleasure, his collarbone flaring a pink deeper than the rose petals that surround them on the bed.

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, this sweet intimate calling of a name that makes Dave’s cock swell, sharing in the pleasure of this moment, in Kurt’s desire, in the love between them.

“Wanna fuck you,” Blaine murmurs back. “Wanna fuck your cock while Dave fucks you. Want to feel him fuck you and want you to feel us both. Want you to feel how we love you.”

Kurt thrusts himself onto Dave’s cock with a high-pitched growl. “Please.”

Dave reaches between Blaine’s thighs to grasp the base of Kurt’s cock and hold it still. Blaine teases himself over the tip, the muscles of his back flexing as he makes small tight circles with his hips, stretches himself wider, starts taking Kurt inside of him.

“Feels ... oh god,” Kurt moans. He tilts his head up to look at Blaine sliding over him, at the nexus where they’re all joined. His eyes go wide. The dark of his pupils seems to bleed into his irises, tinting them a midnight blue.

Blaine sinks lower, lower, until the rim of his ass nudges against where Dave’s thumb and forefinger are wrapped around Kurt’s dick. Blaine’s rim quivers – of course it does, because that must be the most incredible thing to feel Kurt inside of you, fucking you open, filling the parts that used to shame you with something good and perfect.

Dave slides his hand out from between Kurt and Blaine, rests it on Blaine’s hip, follows Blaine’s body as he sinks further down on Kurt’s cock. He feels it like Kurt entering him, feels the pleasure of it through the pulsing of Kurt’s muscle around his cock. “Oh god, you both –” Kurt moans, throwing his head back into the pillow, the long column of his neck sumptuous like marble.

Blaine starts swaying his hips, moaning softly with each sensuous undulation. He lolls his neck forward, then back onto Dave’s shoulder, his mouth falling open. “Kurt,” he says, “Kurt, Kurt,” over and over again like a mantra, like the sound itself is a basic part of breathing.

* * *

He doesn’t need this to feel connected. He doesn’t need for Kurt to be inside him, doesn’t need Dave’s arms wrapped around his body, doesn’t need Kurt’s hand stroking velvet-smooth against his cock. It’s enough to watch, to listen, to be in the same room with them, the same house – to be in the same world is enough. But it feels good all the same: Dave’s breath on his neck, Kurt’s eyes on him, and all that skin against skin.

And Kurt is bright and pink, his nipples hard and peaked, his eyes sharp and clear like diamonds. And when Dave starts moving – slow at first, so patient, too patient, until Kurt bites his lips and starts moving his own hips in search of greater friction – when they move, the both of them fucking with increasing urgency, Blaine can feel it. He can feel their thrusting between his thighs and vibrating into him through Kurt’s cock. He can feel every desperate pulse of their fucking.

It’s incredible.

Blaine closes his eyes and pays attention to each sensation – Dave’s chest sweaty against his back, Kurt’s body strong between his thighs. He plunges himself onto Kurt’s cock, over and over again, Dave’s hands curling into his hips and goading him on, lifting him up and pushing him back down again, angling him so that everything suddenly feels even more intense and he cries out with a guttural wail, “Oh Kurt, god, I feel you, I feel you both.”

It’s almost too much, the buzzing in his body, the tight loving grip of his muscle around Kurt’s cock, of Kurt’s cock sliding into him, in and out and then in again, deeper than deep, it all feels like so much and Kurt’s hand, playing Blaine’s shaft like a song, thumb pushing and pulling at his foreskin and the friction is incredible, the friction on his cock and in his ass, the friction of so many bodies, and Blaine feels it then, all the love in the world roaring into his body, through his body, into his pelvis and he starts to quake, starts to moan, “Love you, love you, love you,” as he shoots stripes of come onto Kurt’s chest: it’s the ink in a love letter, a sonnet, every word of love that anyone ever wrote.

Behind Blaine and with him Dave is losing control, thrusting desperately the way he does when he’s close, and Kurt moans fuck me, fuck me, gonna come, watching both his boyfriends with wide, adoring eyes. Blaine can feel their orgasms as much as his own, feels the way Dave’s hands tense and his breath catches and then Kurt starts to come inside Blaine, his cock giving that telltale swell and thrust before Kurt arches his back, calling out Blaine’s name, calling out Dave’s, to the final rhythms of their fucking.

* * *

Kurt and Chandler finally get together for iced coffees halfway through summer. Kurt’s the happiest Chandler has seen him yet, even counting graduation night when they ran into each other at dinner and Kurt kept surreptitiously feeling his boyfriend up under the table.

Seriously, the kid is smiling so hard you’d think he had a vibrator stowed in his ass.

Chandler tries to ignore it at first. Maybe Kurt’s just as over-the-top as Chandler about life in “the Big Apple” (Chandler’s been trying call New York that as often as possible lately in order to erase his more ingrained association with Buenos Aires – Thanks, Evita).They talk about where they’re planning to live, what classes they’re going to sign up for, the cheapest places to buy groceries in Manhattan, and whether it’s better to spend one’s transportation budget on a bicycle or a couple decent pairs of (fashionable) walking shoes.

And Kurt just keeps grinning, even when Chandler says (to test him) that he’s thinking about buying a pair of orange Crocs for his walks to class.

“If you must go for comfort shoes,” Kurt says without so much as a disapproving raise of the eyebrow, “I understand that Birkenstocks have better arch support.”

“OK, what’s going on?” Chandler finally says, because as nice as it is to see Kurt smile, he’s just being creepy now.

“What do you mean?” Kurt says, his eyes going all wide and faux-innocent like Disney’s Pinocchio.

Chandler leans across the table and pats his palm against the back of Kurt’s hand. (It’s so nicely moisturized, it’s kind of hard not to touch it, and Kurt never seems to mind.) “I think you have something you’re not telling me,” he whispers – though, if he’s honest with himself, Chandler is terrible at whispering. It always comes out more as a stage whisper than anything else.

Kurt squinches his eyebrows. “I – I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve been smiling like –” Chandler’s about to say his vibrator line out loud, but he’s noticed that Kurt can be a little prudish when it comes to sex, so instead he opts for, “Your whole face has been shining like the top of the Chrysler building since you walked in here.”

Kurt’s cheeks flush the most flattering pink. He glances down at the table. “It has not,” he says, clearly trying to look haughty – but the effect is ruined by the grin that’s still on his lips. “You flatter me too much.”

“Oh, honey, you would know when I’m flattering you, and that was not flattery. It’s simple fact. Now tell me what you’re hiding.”

Kurt uncrosses and recrosses his legs, stirs his straw in his coffee, stares at the ice cubes like they hold the answers to the universe within. “Oh, hell, I might as well tell you. It’s not like you know any of my friends, anyway.” He looks at Chandler fixedly, lifts the straw out of his coffee, and point it at Chandler like a javelin. For the first time during the meeting, Kurt Hummel is most certainly not smiling. “But only if you promise to keep it to yourself.”

“You just said I don’t know any of your friends. Who am I going to tell other than Dave or Bl–” Chandler feels his mouth open of its own accord. “Oh my god are you getting some on the side?”

“No!” Kurt glares. “And keep it down.”

Chandler lowers his voice. “You’re not cheating on Blaine?”

“Jesus, no, if I were doing that why would I be smiling?”

Chandler shrugs. “I don’t know. Some people like being naughty.”

The corners of Kurt’s lips twitch. He’s definitely fighting off the urge to smile again.

Chandler scoots his chair around the table until he’s sitting next to Kurt. It’s so much easier to conspire when you’re sitting next to a person than when you’re sitting across from them. “So you are doing something mischievous. Tell me!”

“OK,” Kurt grips Chandler’s hand. Whatever this news is must be big. Kurt doesn’t usually refuse handholds, but he doesn’t usually initiate them either. “But you have to promise not to say a word about it to anybody unless I say it’s okay, and especially not in front of Rachel.”

Chandler crosses the index finger of his free hand over his heart. “I swear. Remember when I told you I’m the one guy that every queer and questioning boy in North Lima High comes out to because they know I won’t squeal?”

Kurt nods.

“Well, it’s true.” And it is. He doesn’t even up the ante in flirting with the cute ones – which can be very difficult, but everyone’s got to have a code of ethics to live by.

“OK.” Kurt starts chewing his lower lip the way he did when they were in Columbus with Blaine and Dave. He holds Chandler’s hand more tightly, and the place where their palms touch is starting to get clammy. “I’m not cheating on Blaine,” he says, his voice so quiet Chandler can barely hear it over the clacking of coffee cups and the chatter from surrounding tables. Oh, well, Chandler will have to lean in a little closer. “But –”

“But?” Chandler waggles his eyebrows. Oh, it’s about to get good.

Kurt scowls. “If you treat it like a scandal I’m not going to tell you.”

“Sorry. My bad. You know me, sometimes I just get a little too excitable. I won’t interrupt.”

“Good,” Kurt says, almost a little too pompously – almost, but not quite, because it’s Kurt and it’s cute when he gets like that. “I – Or maybe it’s we … Well I guess it’s really me, but Blaine knows about it, they’re best friends, I mean, it’s kind of Blaine who started this whole thing when you get right down to it –”

Chandler literally has to bite his tongue to keep from talking.

Kurt takes a deep breath, and the next sentences rush out so fast that Chandler has to play it over in his head several times before he comprehends its meaning: “Dave and I are dating. Or, Dave and Blaine and I are dating. Or, I’m dating Blaine and I’m dating Dave. At the same time. Both of them. Together.”

“You mean a ménage a trois?” Chandler blurts out as soon as the words finally start to make sense.

Kurt withdraws his hand abruptly and goes bright red all the way to the edges of his ears. “Chandler, I’m not telling you the details of my sex life,” he says coldly. Well, now Chandler knows how to wipe that smile off of Kurt’s face. Though he’d rather not know, to be frank.

Even Chandler feels himself start to blush. “That’s not what I meant!’ he says as emphatically as he can manage without raising his voice above a whisper. “I just meant ‘an arrangement of three,’ that’s all.”

“Oh.” The smile, though small now, returns. “I – I guess you could say that.”

Chandler rubs his hands together. “This is so exciting. I’ve never known anyone who’s dated more than one person at a time without cheating. This is very eye opening.” Chandler hopes that doesn’t come across too literally. His eyes do tend to look like they’re about to pop out of his head when he gets excited. He’s seen it countless times when he’s taped his various performances for self-critique. “Tell me more, please? When did it happen, and are you in love with both of them, and what about next year, and –”

Kurt’s smile returns in full force. It’s a similar smile to the one he wore earlier this afternoon, but there’s relief in it, too. It has something in common with the smile of a person who’s just come out for the first time and been told they’re okay.

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