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Kurt holds Dave's hand almost constantly when they're all at Blaine's house, plays with his hair, gives him lingering hugs for hello and goodbye.

He wears Dave's kerchief blatantly – in his right and his left pockets, cuffed around his wrist, billowing out from the front pocket of his blazer.

But he doesn’t kiss Dave. Kurt’s body wants and his heart wants, but his mind keeps telling him he’s asking too much.  What comes next is Dave's decision now.

In the meantime, Kurt has to be patient.

Kurt is anything but patient.

Kurt bows out of his Monday shift at the tire shop with the excuse of finals arriving and instead spends the time at Blaine's. The three of them study together on Tuesday and Wednesday and Friday, too – Dave's intramural baseball season is over and glee rehearsals are scarce now that Nationals have been won.

Kurt wants to kiss Dave when he smiles and when he laughs and when he snorts Mountain Dew from his nose. He wants to kiss him when he’s reading his textbooks and his brows get that characteristic furrow of concentration. He wants to kiss him when he’s at the piano working out the knots in a new piece of music – he wants to kiss Dave’s lips and his face and his hands and each callused fingertip. He wants to coax a melody from Dave’s body.

By the time Dave leaves, it takes no wheedling on Blaine's part to get Kurt up to his bedroom and naked in a flash. Their sex life has never been better than now.

For the first time, they try it with Kurt on all fours, Blaine behind him on the bed, their hips both rocking as Kurt slides back and forth on Blaine's shaft. They can see their faces in Blaine's mirror, watch the twists of pleasure that possess them, look into each other's eyes in the reflection. Blaine can't stop running a hand through Kurt's hair, pulling  soft moans from Kurt with every gentle tug at the roots.

"You know what I would love?" Blaine says.

Kurt is, at this point, unable to string a sentence together. "Fuck," is all he says.

"Yes," Blaine says. "I love fucking you. I love feeling how warm you are inside. I love how you hold onto me."

Kurt says nothing, just turns his head and bites the hand that's been running through his hair, pulls the fingers into his mouth and sucks.

"But I'd also love if – if Dave was here, under you, and you kissed him and rubbed your cock against his while I fucked you. God, I would love that."

Kurt's ass clamps down on Blaine's cock, fucking it rhythmically as he spills onto the sheets.

Another afternoon, they sixty-nine on Blaine's bed, Kurt sucking hungrily, trying to take all of Blaine in, while Blaine intersperses lazy licks with whispers against Kurt's cock: "I want you to be alone one afternoon when Dave comes over. I – I'd go to the library and you would, you would answer the door and he'd ask where I was and you – fuck, Kurt, that feels good – you'd grab him and press him against the door and kiss him and you wouldn't be able to stop and – oh, Kurt – you'd take him up to my room and you, you'd do everything, you'd both come all over my sheets and you'd start all over again and I’d come home and hear you guys going at it in my room, I would hear the sounds you make him make, Kurt, I would hear you, I would –"

Blaine comes warm and bitter into Kurt's throat and Kurt comes all over Blaine's face and hair.

Blaine looks remarkably pleased with himself.


On Sunday evening, Kurt is over at Blaine's empty house, polishing Blaine's toenails deep red to match his polo shirt. Blaine reads Vogue while his nails dry and Kurt picks up his phone to call Dave, like he does every night now.

They don't say anything monumental. But every word feels weighted and significant, even when Dave's just telling him about the stuff he's reviewing for his AP Physics exam tomorrow. He mentions Heisenberg's uncertainty principle – you can't measure where a particle is and how fast it's moving at the same time – and Kurt wonders if maybe this is a metaphor for his own life, or for himself and Blaine and Dave, but he can't put his finger on how.

Except that Kurt wants to be moving faster.

It's getting ridiculous. His heart flutters when Dave talks about science and math; he gets hard when he sees Dave's fingers on the piano. Dave starts talking about a piece he's working on and that's all Kurt can picture – those broad hands moving over the keys, seducing a tune out of previously lifeless wood and ivory – and he is absolutely, completely gone.

When he and Dave hang up, Blaine looks up at Kurt from his magazine, his eyes falling on the hard outline of Kurt's cock against his pants. He rubs a thumb across his toenails to check that they're dry before moving to the bed.

They quickly discover that they both want to be fucked tonight. So Blaine opens his bedside drawer and takes out the dildo that Cooper sent as an embarrassingly inappropriate, but frequently useful, seventeenth birthday present. They finger each other open and he slides it gradually into Kurt's ass, waiting for Kurt to beg before moving it forward each time.

When it's all the way in, Blaine climbs on top of Kurt and sinks down onto his dick. Kurt's eyes go wider than Blaine has ever seen them before.

"You like this?" Blaine says.

Kurt nods a wordless yes.

"It'll be even better when we're like this but it's Dave's cock inside you." Blaine shifts his hips and leans forward to suck on Kurt's collarbone, his jaw, his lips.

Kurt fucks the dildo in and out of himself while Blaine slides up and down his cock. He can't hold the toy as steadily as he'd like or keep the rhythm right, but it's so, so good and he can almost feel the warmth of Dave's hands against his ass, spreading him open as he fucks lovingly into him, as Blaine squeezes his cock with the same sweet attention.

Kurt cries out his orgasm before he knows it's there.

* * *

Dave's pretty sure he's going to die if Kurt doesn't kiss him soon.

But it doesn't matter. He'll wait as long as it takes. He doesn’t deserve anything from Kurt. He's only willing to take what Kurt wants to freely give. The book that Blaine gave Dave talks a lot about sex, but Kurt hasn't mentioned sex and Blaine hasn't mentioned sex and, even though Kurt did mention kissing that one time on the phone, Dave feels most of the time like he must have hallucinated that part of the conversation.

It’s okay, though. The friendship and the hugs and the hand-holding and the lingering glances are more happiness than Dave ever planned for in his lifetime.

Kurt holds his hand so much now that Dave has begun to notice the subtle changes in Kurt's skin from day to day. On a breezy afternoon when Kurt and Dave tread through the woods next to Blaine's house looking for warblers, Kurt's hands are dry and a little rough, their usual softness sucked out by the wind.

On a humid afternoon as they sit in the kitchen studying together, Kurt's hands glow with a fine mist of perspiration, heady and warm. (It’s good that Dave’s calculus homework is mostly mindless calculations, because all he can think about is kissing the sweat off the palm of Kurt's hand.)

When Kurt hugs him goodbye, Dave resists the urge to hold Kurt flush against his body. He leans into it, shoulders first, so Kurt won't feel his hard-on. Kurt can keep poking fun at his baggy clothes; Dave is thankful to have attire that hides the more embarrassing truths about his body.

Dave's not really sure about the etiquette of masturbating while thinking about a boyfriend you haven't even kissed. He's not even sure if Kurt's his boyfriend. No matter. He can't stop. After getting home from Blaine's, he goes to his room or the shower because his eyes see nothing but Kurt's face and his hands feel nothing but Kurt's skin and his ears hear only Kurt's voice. He imagines, sometimes, being fucked by Kurt – as the getter or the giver, he doesn't really care, just as long as Kurt takes everything he can.

It's jerking off, of course, but it doesn't feel like it. He feels Kurt's voice humming through his skin and his affection thrumming through his veins and his eyes breaking his heart open.

Doing this has never made Dave feel so plainly happy before.

It's enough.

* * *

And still, Kurt waits.

Or mostly waits. On Monday afternoon, when Dave says he thinks he did well on the physics exam, Kurt hugs him and kisses his shoulder – so brief and light that he's not even sure Dave notices. If Dave does, he doesn't say anything, doesn’t take the gesture as a signal to kiss Kurt senseless now.

On Tuesday afternoon, Dave leaves without trying anything again. Kurt wants to punch him, but instead he leans forward to plant a kiss on Dave's cheek as he's about to head out the door. He doesn't hit the apple of Dave's cheek like he was hoping. Instead, he hits the part of Dave's cheek right above his lower jaw, where the shadow flushes out every afternoon around 4 p.m. The stubble feels different from Blaine's, though Kurt can't quite explain how. It makes him think of the bristly hairs on poppy leaves.

Dave lets out a little breath of surprise when Kurt pulls away, the apples of his cheeks so red that Kurt can barely resist trying for them again. "What – what was that for?"

Kurt lifts their joined hands to his lips and kisses Dave's knuckles, never breaking eye contact. "For you."

Kurt watches Dave step out to his car, watches him back out of the driveway, watches his rear bumper disappear behind the hedge on the corner. All the while, Kurt’s clenching and unclenching his hand in a tiny wave because, even though it's totally dorky, he can't seem to stop himself.

He feels Blaine approaching before he realizes that he hears him – feels the way the air stirs behind his back as Blaine steps closer, and the familiar warmth of Blaine's body before they're even touching. Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's waist and kisses his neck in a way that Kurt thinks is supposed to be chaste, but sends a wave of lust right down his spine and into his hips.

Kurt turns around in Blaine's arms and kicks the door closed behind him. "He's never going to kiss me. Ever. He doesn't want this." He leans his head against Blaine's shoulder, half because he's exhausted and half to hide his pout.

Blaine kisses the top of his head. "Maybe he's waiting for you."

"I don't want him to wait for me. I'm afraid I'm going to do everything wrong."


Kurt vents his lungs loudly. It's not quite a groan or a moan – just frustration, pure and unfiltered. "I didn't have to read a book before we became us, Blaine. I knew how to do it without reading a book first. The fact that I had to read a book makes me feel like I'll never know what I'm doing."

"Kurt." Blaine puts a finger to Kurt's chin to tip his head up until their eyes meet. "Um, I definitely didn't know what I was doing when I fell in love with you. I mean, it took me months to even realize that I was. I just thought I knew stuff because I'd watched Love Story too many times. And because couples are everywhere around us – and a lot of them show us good ways to love each other, like your dad and Carole, and a lot of them show us bad ways to do it –"

"Like everyone in New Directions."

"But we don't have role models for this. So we read a book and try to do things right."

Kurt bites his lip – not in his come-hither way, but in his too-conflicted-to-do-anything else way.

"Are you afraid of hurting me?" Blaine says. "Because that's really not something you should be worried about. I love you both."

"I know. Or I think I know. But I'm –" Kurt leans the back of his head against the door and sighs. "I also keep thinking how Dave has never had a boyfriend he can call his own. And I can't give him that."

"Oh, Kurt." They're already close, but Blaine pulls Kurt in closer, presses their chests together until their breath rises and falls in the same rhythm. "You already have."

A tension that Kurt didn't even realize was in his forehead begins to release. "And I don't want him to feel like I'm ashamed of him just because I don't know how to explain this to my family. To anyone."

"I could help. I mean, not by blurting it out at an inopportune moment like I do everything else." He pauses as Kurt chuckles quietly. "But if you want to tell them. We don't have to explain ourselves to anybody, though, if we don't want to."

Kurt kisses Blaine softly.

"Can I tell you what I think is going on, with both of you?" Blaine says.


"I think," Blaine says, "because of your past with Dave, you're stuck with this idea that he wants his life to be normal – that that's more important to him that anything else. And I think you're wrong about that. I think you're more important to him than anything else. And I also think that, because of his past with you, Dave is afraid to make the first move. Because he still remembers the last time he kissed you."

Kurt looks at Blaine, pleading, his fingers gripping Blaine shoulders. "But he knows that wasn't – It doesn't hurt me anymore. He's a different person. He's – him."

"Kurt." Blaine strokes softly at knob of Kurt's hip. "He's not that person anymore. But he still remembers who he was and what he did, and he carries that around with him everywhere, even if you don't want him to. Even if you've forgiven him. Even if he's forgiven himself."

Kurt reminds himself to breathe. "Has he?"

"I don't know, Kurt." Blaine's voice is soothing and hushed and too much. Kurt starts kissing him without volition, parting Blaine's lips with his tongue because he needs inside, and he needs Blaine inside him.

Blaine pulls away with a moan and a smile. "Is that how you want to kiss Dave?"

"Maybe," Kurt says, his chest heaving. "But right now I want to kiss you."

Blaine kisses Kurt back, pressing him into the door, and his tongue and lips do the work on Kurt's heart that a million locksmiths never could.

"Please," Kurt whispers when Blaine lowers his mouth to the nook just under Kurt's jaw. "Take care of me. I need you to take care of me."

The request unleashes something akin to a growl from deep inside Blaine. It's not a request that Kurt often makes. He likes to be in control – well, likes may not be the right word. He just tends to forget that there's any other way to be.

Before Kurt knows what's happening, he's in the air, one of Blaine's arms under his back and the other under his knees. He squeals in surprise, throwing his arms around Blaine's neck and letting himself be carried up the stairs. It doesn't matter that he's always pictured carrying Blaine this way on their wedding night, because this is perfect. It's just what he needs.

Blaine lays Kurt down on the bed and begins undressing him slowly, kissing the exposed skin as he undoes a button or pulls back a hem. Kurt feels like a drunken, blissed-out rag doll.

When every last bit of clothing has been stripped from Kurt, Blaine stands up and removes his own clothes unhurriedly. Kurt can't take his eyes off of Blaine: the light trail of hair dusting down his spine, the perfect curve of his ass (so much better than anything Michelangelo ever carved from a block of marble), the striated muscles of his thighs.

Blaine leans over the bed and kisses Kurt. "What do you want?"

"I want you to take care of me."

"I will. I promise. But how?"

Kurt turns his face toward the pillow. The down is soft and cool against his cheek. "I don't know." He faces Blaine again. "Trust yourself. I don't know what I need right now. But you do. You'll listen, and you'll know. I trust you."

Blaine's hand is trembling. He rests it against Kurt's hip, sending minute vibrations through Kurt's skin and into his muscles and bone. Blaine's lips are on his again, delicious and in control.

Kurt feels himself falling apart with just the kiss. He doesn't know how he's going to last through this, but he doesn't have to know.

He lets Blaine love him. Blaine kisses him and kisses him, with as much patience and longing as he did that first time in the Dalton common room, kisses him like that's all he needs and all they're going to do and Kurt gets lost in it, forgets he's ever wanted more, forgets the ache in his balls and just lets himself kiss and be kissed.

He doesn't register when the kisses shift from his mouth to his chin to his neck – the light keeps pulsing through his body all the same. It's Blaine's lips, everywhere; Blaine's skin and hair dancing against Kurt's body; Blaine's tongue relishing places that Kurt never understood could be beautiful.

Blaine kisses Kurt's armpits, murmurs endearments to the hair there, chides Kurt for trimming it again. Kurt would laugh if the feeling of Blaine's nose on the tender skin there wasn't so utterly, bewilderingly hot.

Kurt tries to keep track of everywhere that Blaine's mouth goes, but he loses count somewhere between the inside of his elbow and the jut of his ankle. Kurt's body, apparently, has an infinite number of locations to be kissed. Each one Blaine kisses becomes Kurt's favorite, until Blaine kisses the next one, and the next, finally reaching the one that Kurt needs touched the most but doesn't even realize he does until Blaine's tongue is there, in that dark, intimate place that Kurt had never given much thought to before Blaine showed him that he should.

Blaine's nose nudges sweetly against Kurt's balls as he licks and sucks, his moans competing with Kurt's for loudness. The hum vibrates down into the ring of muscle, loosening it and making Kurt moan even more, launching a cycle of hums and loosening and moans and more moans until Kurt feels Blaine's tongue enter the ring.

If pleasure could kill, Kurt would die on the spot.

Kurt takes everything Blaine gives him, doesn't press into Blaine's mouth no matter how much he wants, because Blaine is giving it to him now and will keep giving it to him without his prompting.

Kurt doesn't whine or whimper when Blaine pulls his mouth away, gradually licks back up to Kurt's lips via balls and shaft and navel, sternum and nipple and collarbone. He relishes in Blaine covering his body, in the sharp suction of Blaine's mouth on his neck. He's so lost in it that when he feels Blaine's wet finger slip inside of him, he's not even sure how it got that way.

"How'd you do that?" he gasps, clenching around Blaine's finger.

Blaine stops sucking on Kurt's neck, but keeps his lips there. "I might" kiss "have started moving the lube" kiss "to under the pillows" kiss "on days that you come over."

"Mmm." Kurt closes his eyes and turns his head further into the pillow to give Blaine's mouth even better access to his neck. "I – mmm – love you."

That earns Kurt a second finger in his ass and oh it takes everything in him not to ride them. Blaine is giving it to him slow and sweet and that's how he wants it, despite the ingrained habits of his body.

Blaine slides his fingers in and out, twisting and stretching, and it keeps feeling incredible, like Kurt's world is going to fall apart and then rush back together, the pieces of it rejoining into something more beautiful than what came before.

Kurt feels another slide and press and it must be a third finger now, but he doesn't ask because he doesn't need to know. Blaine's kissed back down to Kurt's belly by now to give his hand better leverage, and he's licking little circles around and into Kurt's navel and that drives Kurt crazy, too, for no good reason at all. Blaine's chin brushes against the head of Kurt's cock and his neck against theshaft and Kurt feels himself spinning, spinning, as fast as the world.

And now their faces are close, Blaine's hovering over Kurt's, sweat breaking out over Blaine's brow, eyes soft and cradling. He slides into Kurt slowly. It doesn't feel like caution, or even patience. It feels the way that love does, starting right at the bottom of your heart and then growing, pushing gently at its boundaries and filling it, then pushing further so it stretches and accommodates even more, and every time you think your heart has reached its limit, suddenly there's even more love and your heart grows bigger to hold that, too.

They haven't done it like this much lately. Except for their one successful experiment with Blaine fucking him from behind, Kurt usually rides Blaine because it turns Blaine on and it keeps Kurt in control. But something clicks in Kurt's brain as he looks up at Blaine. He understands why this is the way that Blaine loves to be fucked. To have someone look at you that way, with wonder and concern, to have someone know that your pleasure is under their control and that you have entrusted them with it – it's heady and humbling and breathtaking.

Maybe there are some things that Kurt's better off not controlling. Back in the twilight of his discontent with Blaine, when the boy was embarrassing himself in front of Gap employees and making out with Rachel in front of the entire glee club, Kurt thought it would be easier if he could somehow make Blaine see the light, if he could force him into loving Kurt now and truly and exactly the way Kurt wanted.

He's so glad he failed to make Blaine love him the way he wanted. The way that Blaine loves him, from his own heart, is so much better than anything Kurt could have come up with.

Kurt can't control the way that Dave sees himself, can't make him forget a past that never should have existed in the first place. But maybe that's okay. Maybe there's something in Dave that needs to remember. Maybe that memory is what spurned him to become the person he is now, generous and kind and heart-achingly beautiful and impossible to get out of Kurt's head.

Someone who's helped make Kurt more fearless than he’s ever been.

Kurt wants to kiss Blaine and apparently Blaine can see that because he piles pillows under Kurt's neck until their faces are flush. Their mouths are joined and they are joined and Blaine is moving so sweetly in him, hitting him at the perfect-yes-just-right angle. “Oh,” Kurt cries into Blaine's mouth. “You’re so good.”

Blaine keeps moving in the way that destroys and rebuilds worlds, strokes Kurt’s cock softly and then firmly as it swells and stiffens and starts to pulse. "I love doing this for you. Dave wants to do this for you," Blaine says, and Kurt bites down on his shoulder and comes with a million pinpricks of light.


"Maybe you guys should go on a date." Blaine is draped across Kurt's stomach, having licked it clean as soon as he pulled out of Kurt.


"Maybe you guys should go on a date."

"No, I heard you the first time. I just –" Kurt tilts his head. "Given my only other boyfriend experience, I kind of expect the kissing to start before the dating." He pulls Blaine to him so that they can revisit their first kiss and all the ones that have happened since.

"I guess," says Blaine when he comes up for air, "I was just thinking that you guys probably need to talk about your expectations. Because you're waiting for him to kiss you, and he's waiting for you to kiss him –"

"You don't think I'm being a gentleman by waiting for him to kiss me first? Because if I kiss him first," a smirk inches across Kurt's face, "well, he'll never be able to resist me, even if he's not sure it's what he really wants."

Blaine smiles. "I'm pretty sure it's what he wants."

"You're biased."

"He looks at your lips constantly."

"Not constantly." Kurt chews on his lower lip.

"He just – he clearly wants you, Kurt, like you want him, and you guys are both waiting for the other to take the first step. I think you should talk about what's holding you back. So whether that's a date, or whether I shut you two together in my bedroom tomorrow when he comes over –"

"Oh, you'd like that."

"Yes, I would, but I wouldn't be doing it for my own sake."

"Maybe. But you'd still listen in at the door and hope for some good stuff."

Blaine starts licking Kurt's nipple mercilessly. "Mmmm. That really wasn't my motive, but I wouldn't mind."