
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2375360.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Finn_Hudson/Kurt_Hummel, Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel, Rachel_Berry/Finn
      Hudson, Kurt/Blaine/Finn/Rachel
  Character:
      Finn_Hudson, Kurt_Hummel, Rachel_Berry, Blaine_Anderson
  Additional Tags:
      Season/Series_03, Canon_Compliant, Underage_Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Plot_What
      Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Porn_with_Feelings, Voyeurism
  Series:
      Part 2 of Dramatics:_The_Couch_Sex_'Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-29 Words: 5585
****** Choragus ******
by xenachakram12
Summary
     When Rachel Berry sets her mind on something that involves someone
     else, that someone else has two choices. They can either indulge her,
     or they can move out of state and change their name. Kurt’s mistake
     is that he chooses neither. (AKA the one in which Rachel doesn't know
     when to just drop it and things get more complicated.)
Notes
     This is the second part of a series. I advise you start from the
     beginning. :-)
When Rachel Berry sets her mind on something that involves someone else, that
someone else has two choices.  They can either indulge her, or they can move
out of state and change their name.  Kurt’s mistake is that he chooses neither.
Kurt slams his locker and tries to escape, but despite her size Rachel can
really move in her sensible ballerina flats.  It’s been exactly two weeks since
the… incident on the couch in the den, and Rachel will not stop harping on it. 
She says that since that night Finn has been distracted, maudlin, and shifty,
and of course she assumes the problem is Kurt and none of her delightfully
eccentric idiosyncrasies.  She reiterates the point.  “…and I think it’s
because you the two of you have some sort of latent feelings for each other.”
It’s times like these that make Kurt miss the time when he and Rachel were
rivals and he could verbally lash her without remorse.  Well, without much
anyway.  Whatever the case he cannot behave that way with her now; he hates
putting that pouty look on her face.  “Rachel, I know your concerns.  You’ve
already explained them all in detail and with pseudo-scientific psychological
research.  You’ve texted them to me as I tried to sleep.  I get it.  But I’m
only going to tell you this once more…”  He grips her shoulders in his hands
and makes forceful eye contact.  “Finn and I don’t have any ‘latent’ feelings,
okay?”  He looks around the hall to make sure there is no one near enough to
overhear.  “What happened the other night was some weird fluke.  I already
apologized to you for kissing your boyfriend!  What more do you want from me?”
“Kurt.”  She says it like she’s talking to a child who is talking about things
he cannot possibly comprehend.  “I just think we all need to talk about it.” 
Kurt huffs a sigh in his frustration and walks away, but it does not deter
her.   She follows, her hands on her hips as she pleads her case.  “Say I
believe you about you and Finn.  We should still make sure that we’ve all come
to peace with what happened!”  She stomps around Kurt quickly and intercepts
his path, looking up at him fiercely.  “You don’t know what he’s been like! 
He’s acting really strangely—“
Kurt wishes he could just ignore her pleas, but the problem is that she’s
right.  Finn has been acting strangely, but she’s wrong to think Kurt hasn’t
noticed.  Of course he’s noticed.  Finn is his stepbrother; they live
together.  In such a confined space, a person can’t be that large and that
unspeakably awkward without everyone knowing.
“—and I know that he would feel better if we could just all discuss it.  I know
it’ll be a little uncomfortable, but this is what families do.  They resolve
their issues, even if it’s an unpleasant process.”
It’s tempting to point out that decent families’ issues do not generally entail
having put their tongues in each other’s mouths, but he resists.  Instead he
tilts his head and regards Rachel, who stands with her feet planted and her
arms crossed.  Kurt knows there is no arguing with her and yet he usually does
it anyway.  He figures it’s good for her.  Now though, he knows he isn’t going
to; he sighs and relents.  “Alright.”
Rachel nods like she knew all along that Kurt would agree.  “We can convene at
my house tomorrow night.  My dads will be at the symphony, so we can use the
basement and the stage will be right there in case any of us need to sing about
our feelings.”  She links her arm in Kurt’s as she drags them down the hallway,
prattling on about her crazy theories.  So what if Rachel has noticed the bags
under Kurt’s eyes?  All that means is that Kurt needs to be more generous with
the eye cream.
---
Kurt brings Blaine with him to Rachel’s, even if it was never explicitly stated
that he was invited.  He was there on that fateful night, so Kurt feels he
should be present for the painful dissection of every exchanged glance.  Kurt
somewhat expects for Rachel to have one of those giant pads of paper on an
easel with bullet points on what they need to discuss.
There’s no easel, which is lucky for Rachel because if there had been Kurt
would have turned right back up the stairs and gone home.  He and Blaine settle
into the couch and dig into the popcorn and Perrier set out for them—only
Rachel would feel compelled to provide snacks for uncomfortable, morning-after-
type conversations—as they wait for Finn to join them downstairs.  Kurt is
actually pretty grateful for the salty carbs in that moment; his stomach is
unsettled and nervous, and it needs something to do.  When he notices a stack
of pink index cards on the side table—each one apparently full of notes with
what appears to be gold star stickers in the place of bullet points—Kurt begins
to shake his head to protest, but it’s too late.  Finn avoids everyone’s eyes
as he plods down the basement stairs like there is a firing squad at the
bottom.  Kurt knows the feeling.
“Good!”  Rachel flashes her wide, white smile and claps once in her
excitement.  “Now that we’re all here, we can get started.”
In most contexts Kurt begrudgingly appreciates Rachel’s flare for drama, but
something about the way she calls for the group’s attention as if she’s leading
a seminar makes Kurt suddenly realize with firm certainty that he cannot do
this.  That whatever she has to say is going to be excruciatingly uncomfortable
and completely unnecessary, and he’d rather shave off his eyebrows and have to
draw them on every day for the rest of his life than discuss any of the
strange, unwelcome emotions that had passed between him and Finn on that night
or any other night.  So they all kind of traipsed all over each other’s
boundaries once; big deal.  They’ve all been through more embarrassing things
than this.  If they can repress that week they all did disco, then they can
repress a minor sexual indiscretion.
“We don’t have to do this, Rachel,” Kurt begins.  “You’re making a big deal
over nothing.  It’s out of character for you, I know, but there’s a first time
for everything.”
Rachel either doesn’t catch the dig or she ignores it.  “Now Kurt, you agreed
to come here, which means you implicitly agreed to hear me out.”  Rachel turns
her attention to Finn who stands as still as a prey animal in the center of the
room before she waves him to take a seat.  He glances at the empty spot on the
couch next to Kurt, but doesn’t rest his eyes there for long.  Instead he pulls
a wingback chair from the corner and drags it closer to where Rachel stands. 
Its legs screech against the tile floor.
“I feel it’s essential to the success of our tightly bonded friendship that we
clear the air about what happened the other night,” Rachel continues.  “I know
Finn is still unsettled by the whole thing, and Kurt, you aren’t much better.”
“Rachel,” Finn calls, his voice almost a whisper.  “Rach, it’s fine.  I’m
okay.  Everything is cool.”
Rachel looks dubious and turns to face Kurt with a scrunched face.  “You heard
him,” Kurt replies.  “Cool as a cucumber sandwich.”
When Rachel sighs dramatically slowly, Kurt wonders if Rachel really is
exasperated or if she does it for effect.  “I know you two don’t want to admit
it, but I think there is something between you,” Rachel continues.  “And it’s
okay!  Blaine and I aren’t upset by it.  Isn’t that right, Blaine?”
Blaine looks suitably contrite, but he doesn’t disagree.  He takes one of
Kurt’s hands between both of his own and inhales a steeling breath.  “I’m not
going to claim that I know exactly what’s going on between you, but there is
something.  I can see it on you.  I felt it in that room that night; I think
anyone could have.”  He gives Kurt a slight smile, like he always does when
he’s trying to soften the blow of bad news.  What a Judas.
“Look,” Kurt says, in his tone that brooks no argument.  “You are all my dear
friends, and I care about you deeply, which should be obvious considering I’m
willing to sit around and indulge this craziness, but you’re making a Vesuvius
out of a kid’s science project.  Finn and I kissed, okay?  It happened, the
world still turns, and somehow he and I still manage to look each other in the
eye every day.  I’m going to put a tick firmly in the ‘win’ column and move
on.  I suggest you all do the same.”
“But look at him,” Rachel intones, pointing at Finn.  “Does he look okay to
you?”
Finn’s so tall that the top of his head is even higher than the back of the
chair when he sits, but he can still rest his cheek against the wing of the
backrest.  His eyes are dull and stare off into the horizon, and when he
realizes Rachel is talking about him, he perks up and pays attention but he
still looks so… blank.  It’s not the first time in recent days that Kurt has
noticed Finn looking detached and checked-out, and not just in the planning-
his-fantasy-football-season-in-his-head kind of way.  Each time Kurt had
rationalized it away, casually blaming any sign of distress on something
superficial and convenient, and for the first time Kurt allows himself feel a
pang of guilt.
“Blaine and I expected that neither of you would be willing to admit to
anything, so we’ve come prepared with a contingency plan,” Rachel says as she
comes to sit on the empty cushion of the couch on Kurt’s left before nodding
sharply once at Blaine.  As Blaine slides off the couch and onto his knees Kurt
shoots Finn a panicked look, and Finn’s expression goes from unmoved to
bewildered in an instant.  Before Kurt can argue or plead or maybe even run,
Blaine runs his palms up Kurt’s thighs in long swoops, his head tilted up
exposing the long, muscular curve of his neck.  His eyes dance as he searches
Kurt’s eyes and sneaks his hands into Kurt’s lap to undo his fly.
“Kurt and Blaine are going to have sex, Finn,” Rachel announces, matter of
fact.  “You can stay or you can leave, whichever you choose.”
Kurt’s pulse kicks up as his blood begins to pound in his veins.  It’s
familiar, this feeling.  He can’t name it and he’s not sure he wants to, but
it’s urgent and precarious, like he’s walking a tightrope and all he has to do
is step out of line to feel the sweet release of the plunge.  He turns his eyes
to Finn, the only person in the room who might possibly be his partner in
sanity, to see Finn’s disgust or trepidation or something in him to which he
can desperately cling.  Finn’s eyebrows are so high on his forehead that they
look like that might shoot off his face at any moment, and his chest heaves
noticeably; he looks terrified, but he doesn’t move.  Finn watches Kurt with
eyes full of regret, his mouth agape but wordless, but he doesn’t leave.
Kurt feels Blaine’s hand on his swelling erection—how is he getting so hard
already?—as Blaine works to pull it through the functional opening of Kurt’s
briefs.  Kurt tries to muster the strength to want to stop this, knowing that
it’s up to him alone now, but there isn’t enough in him.  Instead of protesting
or pulling up his damn pants and getting the hell out of there, Kurt lets the
tension in his shoulders go slack, exhales, and allows.  His cheeks flush hot,
and his eyes are still on Finn in the exact moment when Blaine frees his cock
and takes it smoothly and unceremoniously into the endless, watery chasm of his
mouth.
The jolt of pleasure shocks his system, and Kurt is fully hard in an instant,
his leg twitching involuntarily at the force of it.  He turns his attention on
Blaine, focuses on him; doesn’t look anywhere but at him.  Blaine knows what
Kurt likes, knows he likes to be sucked slowly and deliberately, and the
sensation is almost enough to distract him from way his skin throbs with the
feeling of being watched.
“You are beautiful together,” Rachel comments, her voice drifting over Kurt’s
shoulder.  “Aren’t they beautiful, Finn?”  Kurt doesn’t look at Finn—can’t
look, won’t look—but his ears are attuned to him and he hears Finn’s barely
audible whimper.
Kurt leans back and balls his fists, making an effort to maintain his outward
composure and letting Blaine drive.  Kurt knows that during sex he has a
tendency to be pushy and vocal when his mouth isn’t otherwise occupied, and
while Blaine pants and writhes and complies with Kurt’s every command, Kurt
knows how much Blaine loves this too.  He loves when Kurt hands him the reins
like this, that Kurt trusts him to set the pace and to decide his pleasure.
 Kurt can tell by the way his eyes are shut, their corners watery, and by the
way he holds and releases his breath in huge gulps that Blaine’s cock is
filling at the way Kurt stretches his mouth and bumps the back of his throat.
 Blaine is rapt, and Kurt feels such fierce affection for him in that moment
that he squeezes his eyes tightly shut and cradles Blaine’s sweet face in his
hands.   

“Look at him, Kurt.”  Rachel leans in close, her cheek practically touching
Kurt’s, the devil on his shoulder.  She is slowly undoing him, unlatching his
every defense one at a time, and she wants everyone to know.  “Look at Finn. 
Open your eyes and look at him.”

Kurt does; he obeys without thinking.  His higher brain function is fighting a
losing battle with his baser desires and it’s making him more likely to act
without his usual pre-consideration.   It makes Kurt’s belly tighten in arousal
and fear.

“He wants you.” Rachel’s pretty voice winds into his ear and down his spine.
 “Look at his eyes… look at his hands.  He’s practically sitting on them to
keep from touching you.”

Finn’s eyes widen before he looks down to where his hands are tucked behind his
knees.  He pulls them out in a swift, inelegant movement but can’t seem to
decide what to do with them after that.  He looks around him—maybe he’s looking
for some knitting needles or other innocent, grandmotherly way to occupy
them—but when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he rests them very
deliberately on the tops of his thighs and sits as straight as a board.  Finn
has never looked so unnatural in his entire life.

Too late to see Finn’s reaction, Blaine slows the motion of his tongue, pulls
almost entirely off of Kurt, and turns to look at Finn.  Finn’s cheeks are
splotchy and red and he is involuntarily jiggling his right leg.  Kurt knows
that Finn must be able to see everything between Kurt’s gaping fly and Blaine’s
gaping mouth, and Finn must know that he knows.  One of them should take issue
with it, Kurt thinks, but neither of them say a word.

Blaine swallows Kurt down again, groaning long and low in his throat, and Kurt
can feel the hum throughout his entire body.  Kurt knows that groan; he loves
that groan.  Blaine is looking at Finn looking at Kurt and he’s getting off on
it.  Blaine shifts his body to right side of Kurt’s legs so that he can
continue to blow him, but this time he keeps his eyes open.  He wants to see.
 He wants to see Finn see.

Finn’s posture slowly loses its rigidity as he watches Blaine’s mouth slide
wetly around Kurt’s cock.  Kurt sees Finn’s eyes move in time with Blaine’s
motions, his wide pupils rising and falling along with the purposeful rhythm of
Blaine’s bobbing head as he shows off, swirling his tongue dramatically and
applying hot, wet, pressure around the circumference of Kurt’s dick.

Kurt feels Rachel’s hand land on his shoulder.  She steadies herself on her
knees as she breathes, and somehow she manages to sound unaffected when she
commands, “Touch yourself, Finn.”

Finn’s eyes squeeze shut and Kurt can hear the high-pitched whine in the back
of Finn’s throat.  His hands are grasping his pant legs now; Kurt can see the
fabric bunched up between his fingers.

“Come on,” Rachel goads, but Finn just shakes his head violently, his eyes
still closed.  He looks like he might shove his fingers in his ears if he
didn’t have them tangled so resolutely in his pant legs.  It’s convincing; Kurt
could almost believe that Finn doesn’t really want this, except for the fact
that he still doesn’t fucking leave.

“Kurt...” Rachel implores, her lips hovering near his ear again, her presence
well within Kurt’s personal space.  She needn’t say anything more; Kurt knows
what she’s asking.  Somehow Kurt always knows what Rachel is asking when she
doesn’t know how to ask it.

“Finn,” Kurt blurts.  The word comes out forcefully, authoritatively; its
strength a surprise even to Kurt.  It feels like the air stills and time stops.
 Even Blaine falters for a moment at the edge in Kurt’s voice.  Kurt breathes
in and out once.  He softens his tone.  “Finn, hey...”

Finn opens his eyes and looks at Kurt, straight in the eyes, nowhere else.  He
fidgets and gives Kurt this look that is too familiar, like his boat has sprung
a leak and Kurt has a bucket.

Kurt nods.  “It’s okay,” he says voice small and airy.  “It’s okay.”

Finn exhales suddenly and loudly.  His hands relax and the color returns to his
knuckles.  He keeps eye contact with Kurt and Kurt doesn’t look away.

Finn sticks his hand down his pants without opening his fly.  Kurt tries to
laugh—he gives Finn such a hard time about wearing pants that don’t fit him
properly—but it comes out a breathy moan.  “No.  No, Finn...”  Kurt swallows
the excess saliva in his mouth.  “You can—just… you can.”

Finn’s eyes pierce into Kurt for a long moment.  The air is charged as Finn
extricates his hand from his pants.  He unbuttons his fly and pulls down his
zipper, the clicking sound of the teeth seeming inordinately loud.  Finn gets
to his feet just enough to get his thumbs into the waistbands of his pants and
boxers and slide them down to the tops of his thighs.  He sits back down
quickly, the bare cheeks of his ass on the Berrys’ expensively upholstered
furniture.  His shirt is in the way so Kurt can’t see much, but he knows.  He
knows what Finn is doing when his right hand disappears from sight and he knows
that Finn is doing it because of him.
“Let him see.”  Rachel says it directly into Kurt’s ear, but Finn somehow knows
that it’s meant for him.  With his free hand Finn pulls the bottom of his shirt
up and tucks it behind where his hand is working.  Kurt sees the head of Finn’s
penis sticking out from the circle of his hand and it’s… wow.  Respectable.  He
can’t really tell the thickness from where he sits, but it’s long even compared
to Finn’s fist and Kurt can’t help but think about Blaine.  Blaine who would
love the challenge of it, stretching his mouth around Finn, taking him slow to
try to get the head down his relaxed throat, and oh god, Kurt needs to stop
thinking about that or he’s gonna blow.
Kurt tears his eyes away from Finn’s crotch and looks back up at his face. 
When their eyes meet again, Kurt can see that Finn’s eyelids are heavy and he’s
blinking slowly.  Finn’s mouth drops open and he gasps, his hand speeding up
and his wrist swiveling.
Kurt tilts his chin down and swallows hard.  He puts his hand on the back of
Blaine’s head, petting his hair and the soft skin on the back of his neck.  It
encourages Blaine, who puts one hand on the small of Kurt’s back and grasps his
other hand on Kurt’s knee.  Blaine starts working in earnest, applying pressure
and suction in unpredictable, alternating patterns with the swipes of his
broad, smooth tongue.  Kurt’s arousal goes from comfortable and sustainable to
intense in mere moments. 
“He’s done this before—” Rachel whispers.  Kurt had almost forgotten she was
even there.  “—touched himself and thought of you.  Haven’t you?”
Finn’s focus shifts from Kurt to Rachel.  Kurt can see the strain in his eyes,
but can’t be sure of the exact cause.  He nods minutely.
“Tell him, Finn.”  Rachel’s fingers wind into Kurt’s hair, stroking but pulling
a little too.  “He needs to hear you say it.”
Finn keeps his eyes trained on Rachel.  His voice is thick.  “Yea.  Yes.  I
have.”
Kurt’s hips buck up involuntarily and it causes Blaine to choke a little in
surprise.  Kurt squeezes and massages the muscles in Blaine’s neck and jaw in
apology, but also fondness; Kurt knows how the muscles there can get sore and
overworked, and Blaine is working tirelessly.
Finn is already close; Kurt can tell.  He’s never seen Finn like this, not
really—that time on the couch Kurt had resolutely kept his mind away from Finn
until he couldn’t anymore, and even then he’d kept his eyes off—but Kurt can
recognize the signs.  Finn’s hand is stripping his dick now and his hips are
shifting in a pattern that is faltering in its rhythm.  Kurt can’t help but
wish that Finn were naked, that he could see his triceps flexing and his abs
fluttering.  He wants to see Finn spread out, long and glorious and unhidden. 
Kurt knows that when all this is over he’ll regret allowing himself to have
that thought, but he’s not going to punish himself for it; not yet.
“Tell him about it, Finn.”  It’s not Rachel but Blaine who instructs Finn this
time.  Blaine’s voice is wrecked after he pulls off of Kurt’s dick, and it
somehow makes everything seem real and undeniable.  “Tell him what you think
about.”
“Oh god.”  Finn squeezes the base of his cock and holds it still.  “No, I
can’t.”  He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
Simultaneously, Rachel and Blaine turn to look at Kurt.  Kurt feels the two
sets of eyes on him, but all he can see is Finn across the room with a pained
face and, out of his peripheral vision, his own dick flushed and wet sticking
out of his pants.  It’s so surreal that he’s almost detached from it.  He feels
as if he could do and say anything he wants because this moment is so far
removed from reality that it doesn’t count.  “Please,” Kurt says.  His voice is
weak.
Finn’s eyes shoot open and find Kurt’s immediately, like he was in synch with
Kurt even when he couldn’t see him.  “Kurt?”
Finn’s voice is so small and self-conscious that Kurt feels his chest
constrict.  His face is open in a way it hasn’t been in weeks, not since the
night they discovered how the other tastes.  Finn trusts him, trusts Kurt to
tell him if it’s too much, if they are crossing a line that they can never take
back.  He’s brave and he’s generous, and he’s begging Kurt to tell him that
what he is feeling is okay.
Kurt nods.  “You can tell me.  If you want.  Only if you want.”
“Kurt…”  Finn’s releases the base of his dick and starts working himself again
in a repetitive, sweeping, swirling pattern.  When Finn speaks again, his voice
is strong and without any sign of hesitation.  “I think about… about your
mouth.  How you bit my lip and just… oh god, owned me, ya know?  And the way
you smell…”
Kurt’s dick twitches.  He’s thought about it too, but only late at night,
during those witching hours that seem like a dream upon waking the next day. 
In those moments before sleep he could relive and relish the way Finn sighed
into their kiss, like he was pouring his entire being in Kurt’s body by way of
his mouth.
“I wanna touch you so bad sometimes.  Like, when we pass each other in the hall
at home, and I try so hard to keep my arms to myself because I’m scared that if
I touch you…”  Finn trails off and shakes his head.  “I stay away, but I really
just want to push you up against the wall.”
Kurt and Blaine moan at the same time.  Kurt feels the surface of his skin heat
up, feeling it become thin and brittle the way paper does before it catches
flame.  Blaine is going to town on his cock and Finn is telling him things that
are impossible to fathom.  Kurt feels the tension building low in his stomach
as his balls tighten.  There isn’t much time left.  “You can touch me, Finn,”
Kurt confesses almost frantically.  “You can touch me right now.”
That’s all it takes.  Finn bites his lip and holds it as he comes, his hand
working himself through it for a long time.  Kurt watches Finn spasm and
twitch; he’d be disappointed that Finn already came if he were going to last
longer than another minute or so.
Finn doesn’t revel in his afterglow.  He wipes his come off on his
shirt—surprisingly Kurt is too turned-on to be put off by poor laundry care—and
pulls his pants back up, fastening them as he stands.  He walks toward Kurt but
stops a few feet away.  There’s a question in his eyes, and Kurt knows what it
must be.  Did you mean it?  Can I still touch you?
Kurt is so close to coming, and the urgency comes through in his voice.  “Come
here.  Come here, Finn.  Hurry.”
Finn lacks coordination as he scrambles and kneels at Kurt’s feet.  His eyes
are still asking for permission, or maybe instruction.  “Your hands,” Kurt’s
voice drops low as he says it.  “Please.”
Kurt doesn’t say how or where, but he doesn’t really care.  He just knows he
needs it, needs Finn to reassure him now, to know he’s not the only one who is
confused and desperate.  Kurt is willing to take the plunge as long as he knows
he won’t be alone when he lands.
Kurt’s eyes close of their own accord because it is just too much.  Rachel’s
warm body is within the halo of Kurt’s intimate space, Blaine must be hollowing
his cheeks to produce such an insane amount of suction, and Finn is killing him
with the expectation of his touch.  Kurt can feel his lungs expand and contract
rapidly, his calves tight with his pent up energy.  They surround him—his best
friend, his boyfriend, his brother—supporting him, accepting him like this:
aroused and healthy and young.  It’s something he never expected to have.
Kurt waits for Finn to grope him, to get his strong hands on his thighs or his
back or maybe even his ass if he can manage to get his hands on it, because he
knows that Finn isn’t exactly subtle.  So when he feels the tentative pads of
Finn’s fingers on his cheekbone, Kurt startles, but Finn shushes him.  Finn
strokes the smooth skin, feeling the shape of the bone underneath and stroking
his thumb over the tendons in his throat.
It’s so unexpected: the juxtaposition of a feather-light touch in the hot,
humid sounds of sex in the room.  It’s so much, too much, and a noise tears
from Kurt’s throat as he comes before he can even warn Blaine, his dick pulsing
hot and long and over and over into his throat, and there’s so much of it that
Blaine can’t keep up, can’t swallow it all.  Kurt lightly squeezes Blaine’s
neck in a nonverbal cue to pull off, and Blaine withdraws, letting Kurt’s
dripping dick fall from his mouth: his messy, wet, swollen, beautiful mouth.
Kurt’s head goes a little foggy so he allows himself to lay back into the soft
cushions of the couch behind him.  The motion causes the physical contact
between Finn and Kurt to break, and Kurt takes a moment to catch up with his
breath.  When his eyes drift open again, he looks to Finn just in time to see
him slowly pull his hand away from where it hovers in the air and shove it into
his pocket.
Kurt’s ears ring and his whole body is so overstimulated that he momentarily
forgets that Blaine is draped perpendicularly across his lap, his head pillowed
on Kurt’s thigh as he hums low in his throat like a purr.  His chest is still
heaving like he’s won a marathon though—and in a way, he did—so Kurt tries to
regain use of his limbs enough to touch him when realizes he hasn’t taken care
of Blaine at all.
“Baby…”  Kurt grabs at Blaine’s hip, beckoning him closer.  Blaine is shy about
it, but Kurt knows that Blaine loves when Kurt calls him that, sweet and secret
in their intimate moments.  For a second Kurt worries that he’s stepped over a
line, saying something that is usually reserved just for them in front of Finn
and Rachel, but then it occurs to him that they have shared a lot with Finn and
Rachel in the last few minutes.
“Blaine, baby, come on.  Come up here.”  Blaine makes grumbly, unhappy sounds
like he does when Kurt tries to wake him up.  “Let me take care of you.”  Kurt
reaches down to Blaine’s fly; it’s damp and he’s not hard at all.
“I’m good.”  Blaine smiles languorously up at Kurt.  “Boy, am I good.”
Kurt can feel his smile spread across his face.  He looks at Blaine’s sated
expression and feels a sudden need to have him closer.  He opens his arms in
invitation and Blaine rises to embrace him despite looking like he might fall
asleep at any moment.  They hold each other for a minute and when they pull
apart far enough to kiss, Kurt realizes that somehow Blaine had gotten all the
way off the floor and onto the couch next to him.  Kurt regards him for a
minute, looks him in the eye for any sign of discomfort or worry.  He only
looks pleased.  Kurt kisses him again.
“No, thank you.  I’m okay,” Rachel declines even though no one was offering her
anything.  “This wasn’t about the sex for me.  I just wanted you two,” she
looks between Finn and Kurt, “to acknowledge your feelings, which I totally
accomplished by the way.”  Kurt rolls his eyes, but Rachel doesn’t comment on
it.  “I plan on marking this down in my journal as my good deed for the day,
but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count if I… well, you know.”
“Get off on it?”  Blaine always gets like this after sex: relaxed and improper
and liable to say anything.  Kurt feels such intense love for him in that
moment.
Rachel blushes and darts her eyes, before settling into the couch and leaning
her head on Kurt’s shoulder.  Kurt pats her cheek in a “good girl” type
gesture, which only makes her nuzzle into him more.
Kurt feels like his limbs are made of stone, but in such a good, bone-deep
way.  He blinks slowly, enjoying Rachel’s soft hair against his arm and
Blaine’s face on his thigh.  He looks at Finn, who doesn’t look as settled as a
boy should when he’s just come.
Finn holds his hands in his lap, watching the three friends cuddle on the coach
as he makes non-productive fidgety movements.  There are at least two feet
between where he slid to his knees and Kurt’s feet.  Finn looks like he wants
to disappear.
“Finn,” Kurt says smiling, and he hopes the warmth of it comes through in his
voice.  He takes his left hand out of Blaine’s hair and reaches out to Finn. 
Finn hesitates in taking it, but Kurt doesn’t have to wait long before his hand
is wrapped up in Finn’s larger one.  Finn blinks hard, squeezing his eyes shut
for a moment, but he recovers quickly, meeting Kurt’s eyes and smiling his damn
lopsided smile.  Kurt’s heart jumps.
Kurt wants to pull Finn over to the couch.  He wants to pull him down and cover
him with his body.  He still wants Rachel and Blaine there too; he just has a
feeling in his chest that he thinks only Finn can soothe.  Kurt doesn’t press
his luck though.  He doesn’t press; he doesn’t pull.  He simply holds onto the
broad hand against his palm, as Finn scoots close enough to the couch to lean
against it and for Rachel to pet his face.
“Well,” Kurt chimes, his voice bright as it breaks through the comfortable
silence of the room.  “Thank you for a lovely evening, Rachel.  Your
intervention went swimmingly.  This little exercise didn’t muddy the waters at
all.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blaine says at Kurt’s obvious
sarcasm.  “I had a great time.”
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