Kurt is at the shop, and Dave and Blaine are studying – or rather, they’re supposed to be studying. But Dave’s already done with most of his exams and he’s still going to graduate and go to college even if he gets a C on the only one he has left, so he’s not concentrating that hard. His mind keeps wandering, and his eyes, too – over to the spot at the kitchen table where Kurt likes to sit, over to the picture window where Dave first learned about warblers. He ignores his history book and stares out that window, sipping his Mountain Dew and thinking about the pictures of cerulean warblers he saw last night in the Audubon guide and how much their blue-gray-greens are like the colors of Kurt’s eyes.
“We should probably talk about sex,” Blaine says.
Dave almost chokes, but with a quick closed-mouth cough, he manages to make his Mountain Dew go down the right tube. “You could’ve warned me you were about to say that,” he says when he’s regained his breath and the inside of his nose no longer feels like a jellyfish has taken residence there.
Blaine smiles sheepishly, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the open pages of his geometry book. “Sorry. In my mind, it didn’t need an introduction. I’ve been thinking about it since you got here.”
Dave coughs again.
Blaine covers his mouth as his cheeks turn bright red. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean it that way. I just – I just meant I’ve been thinking that we should talk about it.”
Dave snickers, and Blaine laughs, and soon it turns into a round of cackles and snorting that neither of them can stop until they’re collapsed forward on the kitchen counter, their stomachs sore and their ribcages heaving with each breath.
“I guess I’m a little nervous,” Blaine says between sharp inhalations. He pushes against the counter until he’s sitting up straight.
“Well, we could just not talk about it.” Dave stays where he is, arms folded on the counter, ear pressed against his bicep.
Blaine gives Dave a skeptical look. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“OK.” Blaine smiles and nods, closing his geometry book and pushing it toward the end of the counter. “So do you want to have sex with Kurt?”
“Blaine –” Dave’s face is on fire. He buries it in his arms, and it gets even hotter.
“Sorry. I just –” Blaine puts his hand on Dave’s shoulder. “I’m not sure how to make this conversation not awkward.”
Dave turns his head until one eye peeks out above his arm. “Alcohol would probably help.”
Blaine tilts his head in thought, like he’s considering it as a reasonable option.
“I’m not actually serious,” Dave grumbles, straightening up in his chair.
Blaine’s smile is relieved. “Oh, good.”
“But I don’t know, maybe we could go for a walk or something? I might feel less nervous and freaked out if I was moving around.”
They end up walking to the public playground a couple blocks away from Blaine’s house. Hardly anyone is ever there, because most of the kids in the neighborhood have grown out of it, and the ones that are young enough have their own newer, shinier playsets in their backyards.
They find it completely barren of children or any other human inhabitants. There’s a squirrel sitting at the top of the slide like it owns the damn thing, eyeing Dave and Blaine suspiciously, clutching at the apple core in its paws and going statue-still as they step nearer. When they hook a left and settle down in two neighboring swings, the squirrel relaxes its tail and resumes nibbling at the apple core.
Dave sets both feet against the ground and begins swinging his hips so that he’s twisting side to side, facing Blaine and then away from Blaine. He doesn’t understand why he’s so embarrassed, or why this is so difficult; they’ve talked about sex before, but of course then it was all in vague generalities, and most of it was Blaine trying to make sure that Dave knew never, never, ever engage in butt sex without a latex condom and water- or silicone-based lubricant unless he was in a long-term, committed relationship where all partners tested negative for STDs and didn’t have risky activities outside of the relationship.
All partners. Not both partners. All of them. That’s actually what Blaine said, isn’t it? Back in – when was it? February? March?
Dave looks up. “How long have you had that book?”
Blaine looks at him. They’ve been silent almost the whole way to the playground; Dave can tell Blaine has no idea what he’s talking about. “What book?”
Dave shifts his feet so that he can keep twisting without looking away from Blaine. “The slut book. How long have you had it?”
“Since March, maybe?” Blaine shrugs. “Yeah, I think March.”
“Why did you get it?”
Blaine hunches over, his hands in his lap. His swing is barely moving. “Kurt got it, actually.”
Dave’s surprised; he’d assumed that Blaine had bought it to understand Kurt better, to decide if he could do this thing. He’d imagined Blaine buying it in a bookstore in Columbus and going home to read it under his covers with a flashlight when his parents thought he was asleep and then, after starring and underlining the parts that comforted and worried him the most, handing it to Kurt and saying, “I can do this.”
Kurt buying the book – well, for one thing, it’s hard to imagine. How on earth did Kurt get through reading all of those reclamations of the word “slut” without rolling his eyes? Wasn’t he tempted to rip out the section on cruising and use it for papier maché?
But maybe more importantly, it puts a whole different spin on things. It means that Kurt’s the one who pushed, who started to propel things forward. And Dave knows how hard it is to refuse Kurt when he wants something. Usually that turns out to be for the good, but still –
Dave looks at Blaine, and waits until he’s sure Blaine is looking him in the eye. “So are you doing this for him? Because it’s what Kurt wants?”
Blaine chews his bottom lip and squinches one side of his face. “Yes and no?”
“Which part’s the ‘yes,’ and which part’s the ‘no’?”
“Well, if Kurt didn’t want it, it would all be –” Blaine raises one hand in the air and waves it around to indicate something dissipating, evaporating. “Kind of a moot point? But it’s what I want, too.”
“What do you get out of it?”
Blaine smiles and ducks his head. “Well, I get to see my boyfriend happy, and my best friend. That’s a lot of it.”
“What’s the rest of it?”
Whatever Dave’s expecting, it’s not for Blaine’s face to turn as pink as a peach. Seriously, Dave had no idea that Blaine could blush like that. “Um –” Blaine says.
Dave can’t help but smile; Blaine’s adorable when he gets embarrassed. It’s probably not helpful, though, so Dave tries to force his face into something more somber. He clears his throat. “It’s okay. You already know plenty of embarrassing things about me. That’s what true friendships are built on.”
Blaine clutches at the chains of his swing. “I –” he starts, then stops. He takes a deep breath, looks at Dave, then squints one eye closed. “I think it’s hot. When other guys are attracted to Kurt. It – I like it. I’ve always liked it. I like it in general, but I especially like it when it’s you.”
“Huh,” Dave says. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
“Before I knew he had a crush on you, even, I –” Blaine closes his one open eye and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t open his eyes when he resumes talking. “I thought about him with other guys.” Blaine sits there for a long moment, breathing slowly; Dave never knew that a person could look so earnest and vulnerable with their lids closed. He thought those emotions were expressed through the eyes alone.
Clearly he was wrong.
Blaine inches one eye open. “Are you going to say something?”
“Can I ask a clarifying question?”
Blaine opens both eyes now. “Of course.”
“Okay.” It’s Dave’s turn to blush. “Are you saying that you, um … that you get off on the idea of seeing your boyfriend with another guy?”
Blaine sucks in his lips and nods.
“Literally?” Dave says.
Blaine screws up his eyebrows like he doesn’t quite understand, so Dave makes the standard jacking off hand motion. For some reason, that’s easier than saying the words. Blaine makes this weird laugh that’s a cross between discomfort and relief. “Um, yes, literally,” he says.
“Okay,” Dave says.
Blaine looks at him. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”
Dave looks down at the ground, toes his shoe deeper into the mulch beneath the swing set. “Have you – Have you thought about … me and Kurt … together?”
There’s no answer at first, so Dave looks up. The tips of Blaine’s ears are as red as a cardinal’s wings. “Yeah.”
Dave smirks. “How many times?”
Dave laughs. He laughs until Blaine is laughing, too, pretty and pink-faced, and keeps laughing until tears start pushing out of the corners of his eyes. He wipes the back of his wrist against his face. “Well, I guess it’s only fair.”
“What do you mean?” Blaine smiles as he catches his breath.
Dave shrugs, going for nonchalant. “I’ve gotten off thinking about you guys together, too.”
Blaine’s jaw drops. “Really?”
“Well, it usually felt weird thinking about me with Kurt, so –”
Blaine smiles. “But now that you know he likes you, you can let your imagination wander?”
Dave shrugs again. “You’re still there sometimes, anyway.”
“I don’t believe you,” Blaine says, but his tone says he believes Dave 100 percent and just wants to hear it again.
“It’s … nice. You guys are – you know you guys are hot together, right?”
Blaine bats his eyelashes. “Well I certainly thought so, but I figured my opinion might be a little biased.”
“I like –” Dave can’t believe he’s about to say this, but Blaine did say he wanted to talk about sex, so they might as well start getting into the details. “Sometimes I think about you showing me what he likes.”
Blaine tips forward in his swing. “Wow. That’s … hot.”
“‘Hot’ like ‘fantasy hot’ or ‘we-should-do-it-in-real-life hot?’”
“All of the above.”
Dave smiles, pleased with himself. “And what do you think about? I mean, as far as ... you know.”
Blaine bites his bottom lip. “Everything. I’ve thought about you guys doing pretty much everything that Kurt likes to do.”
“Which is –?”
“Well, that’s a conversation you should be having with Kurt now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” This polyamory thing sure involves a lot of talking with people. Dave wonders how and if they’ll ever get to the actual sex part. “But what are you doing? Do you just watch, or –?”
Blaine kicks his foot against the ground and starts swinging gently side to side. “Sometimes I watch; sometimes I help out if you guys want me to. Sometimes I’m not even there, but I know you guys are … well, you know. And that’s nice, too.”
“And do you – Do you get off? I mean, in your fantasies? Or is part of it not getting off?”
“Sometimes I get off, sometimes I don’t. It’s not really the point, but it’s not like it’s something I’m trying to avoid, either.” Blaine plants his foot on the ground and comes to an abrupt stop, looking Dave squarely in the eye. “But I could avoid it, I mean, in real life. If we’re all together and that would make you more comfortable.”
Dave looks down at his hands, back at Blaine. “No. You wouldn’t have to. Avoid it, I mean. It’s ... The more the merrier, you know?”
Blaine smiles and laughs and starts swinging again, just a few inches back and forth at first, and then farther up from the ground with each push. Dave follows his lead. Pretty soon they’re high in the air, up and back, their feet soaring above the level of the uppity squirrel on top of the slide. It’s finished with its apple core by now, spending most of its energy giving them dirty looks when they fly overhead. Eventually it abandons its post, scrambling down the side of the slide and darting toward the public trashcan in search of new treasures.
It’s been years since Dave’s been on a swing like this. His body has changed a lot; he gets this weird swooping sensation deep in his ears with every rise and fall that he doesn’t remember feeling at a younger age. It’s weird and uncomfortable, but he also likes it. It reminds him that he’s a different person than he ever was before.
* * *
On the last Saturday in May – the day before his birthday – Kurt wakes up at four o'clock in the morning to his iPhone sounding its alarm on Blaine’s nightstand. Blaine continues snoring.
"Blaine," Kurt whispers, poking Blaine's calf with his big toe. Blaine stops snoring, but doesn't quite wake up until Kurt pokes him three more times and deposits a loud, lip-smacking kiss just below his ear.
Blaine opens his eyes and mumbles something incoherent that's probably meant to be, "What?"
"It's your last chance to join the fun!" Kurt gives the bed a little jounce.
Blaine rubs his eye with the heel of his palm. "Fun?"
Kurt bounces again. "Lake Erie! Magee Marsh! Birding!"
"No, no. That's what you and Dave think is fun."
"If you're sure." Kurt kisses him on the forehead and Blaine suddenly becomes a lot more lucid.
"Of course I'm sure. That's why you have two boyfriends. So this one can go back to sleep and recover from being so excellently laid last night, and that one can get up at the buttcrack of dawn and look for birds with you."
And with that, Blaine gives Kurt a quick peck on the lips and buries his head back in the pillow.
Two boyfriends. It's weird and perfect, and the casual way that Blaine said it makes Kurt's heart do pirouettes as he sets about making his latte, not worrying about the noise of the espresso machine since Blaine’s parents are gone for the weekend at a golf resort near Canton.
It's still dark when Kurt arrives at Dave's. He smoothes his hands over his beige shorts and matching button-down as he waits for Dave to come out the door, nervous that his effort at birder chic might come across more as safari chic. But he's pretty sure he looks good in it, judging by Blaine's reaction when he modeled the outfit last night and Blaine offered to unlace his knee-high brown boots with his teeth.
"Sexy and practical," Blaine said. "You can keep your bird list in there," he lowered his finger into the shirt's left pocket, rubbing Kurt's nipple through the cloth, "and your binoculars in there," he ran his other hand under the leather belt bag on Kurt's hip, pressing his fingers against the bone, "and Dave's hands in there." He lowered both hands into the patch pockets and pushed them toward each other until he was brushing Kurt's cock through the fabric.
"You're going to wrinkle my shorts," Kurt said with a rough sigh.
"Then take them off," Blaine said.
He's probably overdressed for the occasion, but that's never stopped him before. Anyway, he wants to be sure that he's the best-looking guy on the boardwalk, just in case there happen to be any other svelte 18-year-old gay birdwatchers who have a thing for jockish, math-obsessed classical musicians – although it'll probably be mostly old people wearing high-waisted pants and hideous comfort shoes.
Or worse – sandals with socks. Kurt shudders.
Dave steps out of the front door in blue jeans and an unzipped hoodie, the t-shirt beneath it hugging his chest. Dave has moved toward more fitted tops in the past couple weeks, and Kurt is not unhappy at all about the way they hint more strongly at the muscles moving beneath them.
"Happy day-before-your-birthday," Dave says when he climbs into the passenger seat. Kurt fondles his own seatbelt, fighting the urge to undo it and climb onto Dave and kiss him until he makes that weak-kneed noise that Kurt loves. Dave's dad is watching them from the front window of the house, so instead Kurt squeezes Dave's knee and says, "Thank you," before pulling back onto the road.
At the first stop light, Dave pulls out his first birthday present for Kurt. It's a set of maps he made from sightings that birders have posted in the local online forums. Kurt tries to take a close look at them, but it's still too dark outside for him to make out the details. He sees the outline of Allen County and the silhouettes of birds scattered here and there on the first page; the second page is of Magee Marsh; and the third, a satellite image of the woods next to Blaine's house, with images of each of the birds they've spotted this spring.
"Perfect, perfect, perfect," Kurt murmurs until the light turns green.
Then there's Dave's second present. Dave plugs his mp3 player into the dash and says, "This is for you." Kurt waits for the first chords to erupt out of the speakers – he's certain it will be something classical, hopefully piano, hopefully Dave – but they never come.
Instead, the world is silent but for the hum of the wind against the Navigator's cabin and the call of a bird.
It takes a moment for Kurt to realize that the call is coming from the speakers. "Oh, my god. That's a – is that a Wilson's warbler?"
"A Tennessee warbler, actually," Dave says, "but it took me a while to figure out the difference. I thought, if you wanted to, we could listen to it on our way up and then maybe we'd recognize some when –"
"You're the best!" Kurt reaches across the console and squeezes Dave's thigh.
They listen to the recording most of the way there, pausing after each bird to imitate the song. Dave is much better at it than Kurt.
"Oh, my god, we're really nerdy, aren't we?" Kurt says after they've finally parsed the difference between the song of the black-throated blue warbler and that of the black-throated green warbler. "We'd fit in perfectly in a retirement community. I could design the songbird garden and you could be in charge of the feeders and the birdhouses and Blaine could sit on the veranda all day charming the ninety-year-old ladies. I think a lot of them would confuse him for someone they dated in 1938 or 1952."
"As long as there's a piano there and they keep it tuned."
"Well, of course. We wouldn't even consider retiring to a place without 24-hour access to a Steinway."
"Oh, I'd be happy with a Yamaha if everything else is as good as you make it sound."
Kurt reaches across the console and rubs his thumb over the back of Dave's hand.
The boardwalks are packed with old people as Kurt expected, so Kurt and Dave don't hold hands and they definitely don't plant kisses against each other's foreheads as they stroll around, eyes on the trees. Dave wants to find a cerulean warbler, but by eight-thirty the birdsongs have faded and they’ve had no luck finding that particular shade of blue. Still, they've checked a few off their list and learned from some of the older birders about red-eyed vireos and yellow-bellied flycatchers. And the colors of some of the birds – Kurt contemplates the possibilities for a spring wardrobe based on those dusky purples and enigmatic oranges.
They are heading back toward the car when Dave hears it. He cocks up his head and hold up a finger and Kurt turns his ear the same way. He can hear it – it's a familiar song, something from the mp3s they were listening to this morning – but he can't remember which it is.
Dave looks through his binoculars and Kurt follows his gaze. There, in the tangle of half-bare branches, is a bright spot of blue. It's like nothing Kurt's ever seen in nature, and more vivid than any blue he's seen outside of it. The cerulean warbler flits from branch to branch, singing its way through the treetops, and Kurt feels Dave's elbow brush against his. Kurt presses into the warmth until they’re elbow to shoulder. Kurt is hyperaware of the touch; something about being here – outside, and part of the natural world again – makes it feel more real than any of their touches that have come before.
They hold hands most of the way back to Lima, unlinking long enough to stop at an IHOP off the highway for a spinach, mushroom and tomato omelet (Kurt), a T-bone steak and eggs with buttermilk pancakes (Dave), and two pots of coffee (both). They link ankles under the table and almost get a takeout order of blueberry pancakes for Blaine before remembering that they'll be cold by the time they get to Lima. Instead, they swing by Pat's Donuts & Kreme on the way into town for kettle tarts and coffee.
Blaine is still asleep when they get to his room. They find him spread-eagled on his stomach in his tank and boxers, and sink down next to him in the empty space on Kurt's side of the bed. Blaine's face is half-buried in the pillow, half-exposed, his mouth open and his hair a mess of contradictory curls. Kurt kisses him on the forehead. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
Blaine mumbles something incomprehensible and rolls over as he opens his eyes. His sleep-addled smile grows bigger when he sees that Dave's there, too, then practically swallows his face when Dave says, "We brought you coffee."
"And kettle tarts," Kurt adds. "I argued briefly for whole-grain bagels, but Dave won."
Blaine bolts up in bed. "God, I love you, Dave."
Blaine has devoured his first kettle tart and half the cup of coffee before the full weight of the situation seems to dawn on him. He looks at Dave, running nervous fingers through his curls. "Crap, I must look like a wreck. Kurt's used to it but you shouldn't have to put up with it."
Dave ruffles Blaine's hair. "You look cute."
Blaine gives Dave a sideways kick to the ass, but he can't get very good contact considering the way they're sitting on the bed. Dave just chuckles.
"Am I a bad host if I abandon you two here while I go take a shower?" Blaine says.
Kurt blushes. "No."
Blaine scrambles over them to make his way out of the bed, even though there's a perfectly clear path on the other side of the bed. "Back in twenty." At the door, he turns around and winks. "Enjoy yourselves." And with that, he's gone.
They do. It's pretty innocent – long, lazy kisses on the mouth even when they end up lowering themselves into a long stretch across the bed.
"You're so beautiful," Kurt whispers into Dave's mouth.
Dave startles back. His eyes, which had been blissfully half-closed, are wide open. "What?"
"You heard me," Kurt says, kissing the corner of Dave's mouth. But he repeats himself, anyway. "You're beautiful."
Dave keeps staring, his mouth half-open as if he's about to say something, but nothing comes out.
Kurt props himself up on his elbow, traces Dave's bottom lip with the fingers of his other hand. "You don't believe me. Do you?"
Dave closes his lips, swallows, rolls onto his back to get a better view of Kurt's face. "You never lie."
"I try not to," Kurt says. "But sometimes I hold off on telling the truth for longer than I should. So let’s see –" He kisses Dave's forehead. “When you play the piano it feels like there's a whole vine of moonflowers blooming in my chest." He kisses Dave’s nose. “And when your cheeks turn pink, it makes my knees melt." Dave lets out a little moan as Kurt kisses his jaw, still smooth from this morning's shave, still smelling like Dave's mystery aftershave. "I love that we can share our age-inappropriate interest in birding." He kisses Dave's throat. "And," Kurt hovers his lips back above Dave's, "that you're an amazing kisser."
"I don't understand," Dave says before Kurt has a chance to bring their lips together.
"What don’t you understand?"
"Just – I don't want this to sound the wrong way, but when I watch you and Blaine, the kissing looks pretty amazing, too."
"And I don't mean that in a jealous way – I really don't, it's always been one of the weird things about being with you guys. I mean, since fall, at least. Nothing makes me jealous."
"What do you mean, since fall?"
"Oh." Dave flushes pink. "I had a crush on you before that, even. It's – yeah, that's pretty fucked up. Okay, I should probably go now." He starts rolling away from Kurt, but Kurt grabs his forearm and won't let go.
"I don't know." Dave's jaw tightens and he looks like he's trying to keep from crying, which tears Kurt's heart into bits. "I – I've been attracted to you for a long time. I mean, that was part of why I got so angry with you."
If Kurt’s supposed to feel shock, he doesn’t. He has a sense of puzzle pieces clicking into place. "I wondered about that, last spring after we had our meeting with Figgins.”
Kurt nods. “Yeah. It occurred to me as a possibility, but I decided it wasn’t really any of my business as long as you kept your end of the bargain.”
Dave quirks his eyebrows. “Why?”
Kurt shrugs. “I had a crush on Finn for a really long time, and he made me feel like it was something to be ashamed about. I mean, things got better later, but … I didn’t want to make anyone else feel as bad as he’d made me feel just for having feelings they couldn’t control. I decided the thing that counted was what you were going to do with your feelings now.”
“I never thought about it that way.”
“Oh, Dave," Kurt sighs.
“I guess that’s something to add to the list of things to talk with my therapist about.”
Kurt smirks and twitches Dave's nose. "That's probably a good idea."
By the time Blaine gets back, they're lying side by side again, holding hands. Dave is singing the song of the cerulean warbler and trying to teach Kurt to sing it, too, but Kurt just keeps giggling because the shapes feel impossible in his mouth. It would all look perfectly innocent if it weren't for the fact that Kurt walked into the room with only the top button of his shirt undone, and there are three open now.
Blaine settles down next to them and tries the song. After a few minutes of tutoring, he eventually does about as well as Kurt – which means they both sound like humans whistling.
Dave, on the other hand, sounds like something that belongs in the sky.
* * *
They decide to watch a movie. Blaine and Dave snuggle up against the headboard on either side of Kurt while Blaine uses the computer’s remote control to flick through the options on Netflix. But everything is no, no, seen it already, no, ugh god no, and when Blaine feels Kurt's fingers trailing up the inside of his thigh, pushing up the hem of his shorts, and he looks down and sees that Kurt's other hand is doing the same thing to Dave, it becomes obvious that watching a movie is the stupidest idea on Earth.
Blaine throws the remote on the floor and dives into Kurt's neck.
Maybe he should think about that first – ask Kurt if that’s okay in front of Dave, make sure that Dave’s actually ready for a group grope – but Kurt lets out this lovely soft moan and then Dave moves in, muffling Kurt’s moans with his kisses and making his own happy sighs into Kurt’s mouth. Dave drapes his arm around Kurt’s waist, the back of his fingers brushing against Blaine’s belly, and Blaine is so hard already, growing harder by the second from the strange haunting intimacy of this moment and from their scents mixed together.
Blaine slides his palm up the inside of Kurt’s thigh, pushing up the hem of his shorts and teasing his fingers along the leg opening of Kurt’s briefs. Kurt whimpers into Dave’s mouth, wraps his arms tight around Dave and pulls him flush with his chest, sways his hips in tiny waves off the bed, nudging his balls toward Blaine’s fingers.
And then Dave’s hand is on the back of Blaine’s, nudging it upward until Blaine’s palm is stroking the hard length of Kurt’s cock through the fabric of his shorts. Dave lets his own hand fall to the inside of Kurt’s thigh, caressing it in smooth, soft strokes.
Kurt lets out a surprised choking sound, his mouth dropping open, his head falling toward the pillow. Dave falls with him, kissing Kurt’s chin and his neck, his face so close to where Blaine’s is pressed against Kurt’s shoulder.
“Are you sure?” Kurt lets out between gasps. Blaine slides his hand to rest on Kurt’s hip.
Dave looks up from the spot he’s sucking on Kurt’s collarbone. His eyes are open, his expression so soft and achingly tender as he looks into Kurt’s eyes. “Yes,” he says. “I want – I want this. Please.”
Kurt bites his lower lip. Blaine can feel Kurt’s muscles tensing underneath his hand as he tries not to thrust forward. “Promise to say if it’s too much?”
Dave nods solemnly. “I promise.”
“Okay.” Kurt smiles cautiously, turning to Blaine. “Okay?”
Blaine answers by reaching his hand up the leg of Kurt’s briefs and stroking the smooth, warm skin of his cock. The position is awkward, but it’s hot how desperate Kurt already is when his shorts aren’t even off yet. Blaine keeps stroking him with one hand as he undoes Kurt’s shorts with the other.
Dave watches and his eyes go wide when Blaine pulls Kurt’s cock out of his shorts, hard and smooth and purpling with desire. Kurt’s eyes flutter between Blaine’s and Dave’s and he moans when Blaine strokes him, and he moans when Dave touches his balls with tentative sweetness, and he moans again when Blaine ducks down and licks a long stripe all the way from the root to the head.
Blaine takes Dave’s hand and guides it up Kurt’s shaft. Dave pets it hesitantly at first, watching Kurt’s face for cues. Kurt nods, his eyes and mouth open, his hips pumping up toward Dave’s hand.
“Oh, Dave,” Kurt moans. He’s so turned on – Blaine can tell by the sounds he’s making, by the way Kurt’s hand is gripping Blaine’s thigh, the way the precome beads at the tip of his cock. Dave smooths it down over the Kurt’s glans until it’s glistening, then further down the shaft to mix with Blaine’s saliva.
“God that’s hot,” Blaine mutters. He unbuttons Kurt’s shirt and pulls it open to suck at Kurt’s nipples. His head nudges up against Dave’s chest, and Dave lets out a soft gasp, and Blaine closes his eyes to feel everything more – the warmth of their bodies so close to his; the smell of sweat and sex; the sound of Dave’s palm stroking Kurt’s skin and of hard, wanton kisses and sweet, desperate moaning.
* * *
There's so many hands, so many lips and they all know what to do, all know how to make Kurt's skin sing. His hands, his mouth – he wishes he had more, wishes he had enough to give this to them both, but he does his best, holding tight to Dave's hair with one hand and squeezing Blaine's shoulder with the other as sucks groan after groan out of Dave’s mouth. Kurt kisses and rocks and everything feels so good: Blaine’s tongue on his nipples, Blaine’s hand on his ass, Dave’s lips and curling fingers and desperation.
Kurt rocks and rocks and he can’t stop, he can feel Dave’s cock swelling against his hip and Blaine’s against his outer thigh and everything is so good and so close, he’s so close, oh god –
"I want – I want –" Kurt moans, fucking up into Dave's hand, against both of his boyfriends’ hardness. “I want – ”
"Please," says Dave, his voice breaking.
“Anything,” says Blaine. “Anything.”
Kurt fucks his tongue into Dave's mouth to draw out his loveliest groan yet, fucks until Dave jerks the hard outline of his cock up and down against Kurt’s hip, over and over. Kurt's brain short circuits with all the things he wants to do to Dave's cock, all the ways in which he wants to make Dave beg and feel, and he grabs his ass and pulls him in tighter, and Blaine makes a sweet, crescendoing moan against Kurt’s chest.
Blaine's hand clenches the curve of Kurt's ass as Kurt fucks arhythmically into Dave's fingers and Dave fucks against Kurt’s hip. "God I love you, Kurt," Blaine whispers, nosing against Kurt’s peaked nipple. "I want you to come and I want you to make Dave come."
Kurt thrusts his hips again, sliding forward into ineffable heat.
* * *
Dave oh god Blaine oh god yes oh god yes yes Dave I'm going to make you –
Dave comes with a force and suddenness that he didn't know was possible. He feels like his body is being ripped in half and healing back into something better a million times a second – except that he doesn't even know what a second, or a minute, or an hour are anymore. He's outside of time; everything is just the intense pleasure of his body and the feeling of Kurt moving against him and in his hands.
Kurt's eyes go wide and startled, his body shuddering, his voice calling out yes like it's the only word worth speaking. He kisses Dave greedily, his hands grabbing at Dave's hair, spreading fire from his scalp down to his spent hips. And Kurt’s cock – large and stiff and fever-hot and growing larger as Kurt pumps himself in and out of the circle of Dave’s fingers, and then pulsing, a quivering dry spasm and then with a choked groan he pours onto Dave’s hand, slick and wet and warm.
Kurt loosens, tightens, loosens his grip on Dave's hair as Dave works him through the aftershocks. His face is gorgeous and flushed, his soft pink mouth open and eyes fluttering at Dave like birds. Blaine licks wantonly at Kurt’s neck as he reaches into his own pants and Dave finds himself moaning again as Blaine comes; and Kurt moans, too, exhaling music with one last shudder before going lax in Dave’s arms.
“Oh god, that was –” Blaine’s voice, soft and awed. Blaine’s face, resting against Kurt’s chest. Blaine’s hand, stroking Dave’s arm reverently.
“Are – are you okay?” Dave says. He’s not sure who he’s asking: Blaine or Kurt or both.
“Amazing,” says Blaine.
“Ditto,” says Kurt, breaking into soft giggles as he zips up his shorts and kisses Dave on the nose. “You?”
Dave nods. “Yeah.” He looks into Kurt’s eyes, more beautiful and rare than the cerulean warbler they spotted this morning. “Overwhelmed. But in a good way.”
Kurt cradles his head into Dave’s shoulder, wraps Blaine into his arms. They’re three spoons nestled into each other, Dave thinks.
"I love you guys," Blaine sighs, turning around in Kurt’s arms. "Each," he says, kissing Kurt on the lips. "And together." He leans across Kurt to kiss Dave on the cheek. "I love you so much together."
Dave wakes up to the feeling of the mattress dipping next to him. “Wh – what?” he mutter, opening his eyes to see Blaine sitting next to him on the bed. Kurt is still nestled up on Dave’s other side, eyes half-open in a lazy sort of wakefulness.
“Oh, sorry,” Blaine says sheepishly. “I didn’t realize you’d actually fallen asleep. I just –” He gestures to the washcloth in his hand. “Thought you could use a little clean-up? For your hand, I mean. Not your–” Blaine gestures bashfully toward Dave’s crotch. “I mean, not that I’d have a problem with that, I just didn’t think you’d want me to, um, you know.”
“You’re cute,” Dave says because he apparently has no filter right upon waking up. Is it okay to say something like that to your boyfriend’s boyfriend in front of said boyfriend?
Apparently it must be, because Kurt giggles, squeezing Dave in a tight hug. “Isn’t he, though?”
Blaine reaches for Dave’s hand. It’s only a little sticky; he already wiped most of Kurt’s come on his jeans before he fell asleep. Jeans that he will never, ever wash now. Well, probably never. They also have his own come on them, which isn’t quite as special.
The washcloth is steamy warm like one of those hot towels they give out at the Japanese restaurant Dave sometimes goes to with his dad, but it’s green instead of white. Blaine rubs it gently over Dave’s palm and between each of his fingers. It feels nice, being taken care of like this. Dave wonders if that’s what it used to feel like when he was little and his parents shampooed his hair for him. He can’t remember. But he does remember his great aunt wiping down his forehead with a cold washcloth when he used to get sick with a fever. It was the only part of being sick that he enjoyed.
When Blaine is done, he looks at Kurt. “Do you want it, or –?” He blushes.
“No, I’ll take a shower,” Kurt says, nuzzling into Dave’s shoulder. “In a little bit.”
Blaine bends over Dave to kiss Kurt on the forehead. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone and get a start on making lunch.”
“You sure?” Dave says.
Blaine squeezes Dave’s hand and smiles in that way that Dave knows means he’s telling the truth. “Positive.”
* * *
Dave is gorgeous. Kurt knew that before, but here in Blaine’s bed with his hair mussed up against the pillow and his cheeks pink from sex and his face so close that Kurt can count his eyelashes and see the spot on his chin where he must have nicked himself with a razor this morning, he’s stunning. There’s something so intimate and privileged and unbearably wonderful about seeing a person this way. It breaks Kurt’s heart and rebuilds it at the same time.
“What?” Dave says, blinking his lovely light eyelashes over deep acorn eyes.
Kurt touches a fingertip to Dave’s mouth and traces the bow of his top lip. “You’re so … enchanting.”
Dave smiles. It’s what Kurt wanted to see.
“No one’s ever called me that before,” Dave says.
“That’s because they’re all stupid.”
Dave laughs, his pretty white teeth showing and his eyes crinkling and his whole face joy. Kurt’s heart flutters in his chest.
“What else can I be the first to call you?” Kurt rolls over on top of Dave, knees straddling either side of his hips.
“Well, not ‘asshole’ and ‘douchebag.’ I get those all the time.”
Kurt tickles him under the arm. “How about gorgeous? You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”
“‘Fucking’? Well, technically –”
Kurt bends forward and licks his tongue into Dave’s mouth. Dave answers with his own tongue and a sublime little growl.
“There,” Kurt gasps as he pulled away. “You’ve been tongue-fucked. So technically, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
Dave bats his eyes. “Kurt, I –” He looks at Kurt, bites his lower lip.
Kurt takes his hand and holds it in both of his. “What, David?”
“I –” Dave shrugs. “I’m really happy right now.”
“Good,” Kurt says, bending forward to kiss Dave on the cheek. “Me, too.”
Kurt and Blaine sit in the moonless dark of the second-story balcony after Dave goes home that evening. He has to pack. He's leaving early in the morning with his father for their annual family gathering outside of Pittsburgh.
It'll only be a couple days. Kurt's gone without seeing Dave for a couple days before even when he hasn't wanted to, and it's never killed him yet. But Kurt has already had several pangs of longing for him, overwhelming moments when it feels like there's a litter of kittens roughhousing in his stomach.
Their lounge chairs are close enough that they're almost one piece of furniture. Kurt is resting his head against Blaine's shoulder, at peace in the moment and the familiar scent of his boyfriend in the shadowy dark.
"I miss Dave a lot right now," Kurt says.
"I know," Blaine says. "I do, too."
"And I wish I didn't have to hide it from everyone but you."
"He deserves someone who can show him off."
Blaine shakes his head. "No, Kurt. He deserves someone who loves him."
"Blaine –" It’s thank you and you understand me and I love you and how do you know to say the perfect, right thing? all in one word.
Blaine kisses Kurt slowly. "God, when you came this afternoon, he looked like – I can't explain it. He was so beautiful looking at you, and it was because of you. That's what matters to him."
"Blaine." Kurt presses his nose and lips into the curve of Blaine's neck. He feels so safe there. "You take my breath away."
"You do the same thing to me, Kurt." Blaine starts brushing Kurt's hair with his hand in long, comforting strokes. "And to Dave. Literally. I can hear the breath rush out of him sometimes when you walk into the room."
Kurt considers. There are so many things he wouldn't know about Dave if it weren't for Blaine, distracted as he gets by his own nervousness and desire. The two relationships have become indelibly intertwined. “I don't think I would know how to –" Kurt swallows. "I don't think I could love him the way I do if I wasn't so in love with you."
Blaine's silent for a moment, his fingers still lazily caressing Kurt's scalp. "This afternoon – you were beautiful together. Watching you – maybe it's weird, but I felt really loved."
"No, it's not weird. It’s wonderful."
Blaine kisses Kurt lazy and slow. They have no destination but each other, kiss until their mouths are sore and then kiss some more as their bodies wind into each other, become a tangle of tongues and limbs and hearts. Hidden here in the blissful dark, they give themselves over to each other and the clear night sky.