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[personal profile] ellydash
Title: we tumble down the hill (like jack and jack and jill)
Author:[livejournal.com profile] ellydash  
Pairings: Blaine/Rachel, Kurt/Blaine, Kurt/Blaine/Rachel
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 11,633
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Through 2x16 (Original Song).
Notes: Begins just after the events of 2x14 (BIOTA), and ends post-2x16. Posted in two parts due to length.

Summary: Blaine can’t choose between them.

Part One




can it be all so simple.


After she’s done talking, there’s silence in the basement. Kurt’s eyebrows are rapidly disappearing into his hairline.


“That’s crazy,” he says, finally. “You’ve lost it, Rachel. That’s not a solution to anything.”
 

Blaine’s mind runs. Sure, he’s thought about it – maybe not directly, but it’s been in the back of his fantasies: the three of them, together, relieving Blaine of the pressure of having to keep one at bay while the other’s in his arms. He’d never thought of actually proposing it, though. But now that Rachel’s brought it up –
 

“I’ve always had a very specific idea of what my first time would be like,” Rachel continues. “Sexually, I mean. I would be approximately twenty-four. There would be dim lighting, and music. Not Barbra, because that might be too emotionally overwhelming for me, but lately I’ve been considering the greatest hits of Joan Baez. It would be in a bed, because I understand from extensive research that beaches aren’t pleasant places for intercourse. Apparently, sand gets inside you. I’m not exactly sure how, though.”
 

“As fascinating as your fantasy life is, Rachel,” Kurt informs her, “I’d appreciate it if you got to the point before we all shrivel up from the ravages of old age, okay?”


She shoots him an irritated glare, and takes a deep, dramatic breath. “However. The results of my highly tragic romances have taught me that, as John Lennon famously said, life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans. And as intimidated as I am by the idea of my first real sexual experience being with more than one person in the room, I have to admit, I’m a more than a little intrigued by the prospect. I imagine it’ll give me a lot of inspiration for my song writing sessions. Mr. Schue might ask me to come up with something for Nationals, after all. And it would make – ” She closes her mouth on that last thought, leaving it incomplete.


“It might not be such a bad idea.” Blaine knows he’s grasping at straws, but the words keep coming, anyway, in ridiculous jets, fast and incoherent. “I could – explore that side of me, and I could do it with you, Kurt, so, you know, it might be a bonding experience or something. For the two of us. And we don’t have to, uh, go all the way or anything, I mean, no one needs to. Unless we want to. We wouldn’t have to do anything we weren’t comfortable with, or touch any bodies or, uh, parts, that we didn’t want to touch.”
 

“Am I seriously the only one here who’s seen Chasing Amy?” Kurt asks, incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is – Blaine, I can’t even form words to explain what a terrible, terrible idea this is. We’re talking Glitter levels of terrible here.”
 

Rachel gasps in dismay.
 

“Yes,” Kurt says, glaring at her. “Glitter, Rachel. That’s how bad this idea is. I’m comparing it to Mariah Carey gyrating in a sequined dress while attempting to emote way, way out of her acting range.”
 

Blaine has no idea what Kurt’s talking about. He doesn’t watch films with Mariah Carey in them. “Look,” he interrupts. “Kurt, if you don’t want to do this, that’s all right. I don’t want to you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. But speaking for myself, it might help me figure things out about what and who I want. I know I want you, and I know –” He looks away, briefly. “I know I want Rachel. I’m just being honest. Maybe if I’m with you both, I might be able to finally make a real choice for myself.”
 

It doesn’t make much logical sense to him, when he says it out loud, but it sounds good, anyway, and his voice rings with sincerity.
 

Kurt stares down at his lap. Blaine guesses that he's tempted by the possibilities of that choice in his mind, the likelihood that Kurt himself would be the one chosen. He hasn’t underestimated Kurt’s desire to be unequivocally first with someone. “You don’t know that it would actually help you choose,” he says, slowly, his outrage thinning into disquiet. “And I – Blaine. This is a bad idea.”
 

“If you’re uncomfortable expressing your sexuality with a girl present,” Rachel says, earnestly, “I completely understand, Kurt. It’s just a suggestion. We really don’t have to do it.”


“I know we don't,” Kurt insists. “And it’s not just about doing – you know, that, or whatever we’d do – with you in the room. That’s part of it. Believe me, having Rachel Berry present during an intimate moment is so far down on my bucket list, it isn’t even funny. But it’s also –“ He mumbles something, and Blaine asks him, gently, to repeat it. “Doing things at all, okay? I’m – it makes me nervous.”


“Sex?”


“Yeah. And– “
 

“What?”
 

Wanting it,” Kurt says, in a rush. “That too. I’ve never – not like this.”


“You –“ There’s a kick of arousal in Blaine’s groin. “You want –?”
 

Kurt flushes, still staring at his lap. “I want to do things. Sex things. With you. Do I really have to be specific?”
 

Could you?, Blaine thinks, but he says, “No, of course not.” And then: “I, uh. I’d like that a lot. Doing things.”
 

Rachel swallows, audibly.
 

Kurt raises his head again, staring at Blaine, his lips parted just a little bit, and either this is another one of those faces he hasn’t practiced, or Kurt’s getting way, way better at being sexy. Whatever. It works. It’s working great. Something about Kurt’s intensity is doing it for him.
 

“I can’t stop,” Kurt confesses. “Thinking about – it. It’s ridiculous. It happens when I’m out in public, for crying out loud. At school. Or when I look over at you in practice.”


“That’s normal,” Blaine says, glad he can be the one to tell Kurt his feelings aren’t unusual, but he’s remembering watching Kurt sing “Blackbird” and the fantasy of Rachel holding him against Kurt’s ass. His half-hard cock stirs a little more, lengthening inside the strain of his jeans, and oh, God, maybe it could actually happen. “I think those things about you too. During school. At practice. We could do some of them now, here.”


He watches Kurt’s hands sliding over his thighs, back and forth, back and forth. The movement looks increasingly to Blaine like a forerunner to assent.
 

“Just – don’t leave me out during, okay?” Kurt mutters. “If I participate, I don’t want to be a fifth wheel.”
 

Blaine’s about to correct him, to explain that the expression is third wheel, not fifth, because cars have four wheels and so – wait, no, Kurt might have gotten this one right, actually, but then Rachel’s exclaiming, “Oh, Kurt,” and rushing forward. She grabs Kurt’s face in her hands and kisses him, actually kisses him like it’s not the weirdest possible decision she could’ve made. Blaine can’t do anything but watch, trying not to look nearly as surprised as he feels. Kurt’s making these weird little sounds against her mouth, almost like shock or protest, but he’s not pushing her off, and Rachel isn’t letting go.


It’s a long kiss. It’s a very long kiss.


“Kurt,” she says, when she finally pulls back, standing again and Kurt takes a deep breath, staring at her. Blaine half expects him to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but he doesn’t. “If you’re not all right with this arrangement, please say so. We can stop. We can forget the whole thing. But I promise, Blaine’s not going to forget you. Neither of us will, if we go ahead.”


Kurt looks he doesn’t think Rachel understands anything, but he shakes his head, slowly. “I think – I want to,” he says, and his voice shakes a little, too. “If it’s what Blaine wants.”


Yes, it’s what Blaine wants. It really is.


 
 

how do you do a show.


He kisses Kurt first, licking Rachel off his mouth.
 

Kurt moves closer, disappearing the small distance between them on the couch. Blaine can feel how tense he is, muscles taut with the knowledge that Rachel’s watching the two of them. He can sense her. He knows she’s just as tightly strung as Kurt.
 

“I’ll be right back,” Rachel tells them, and she sounds a little winded. “We need to – we need protection. Just in case we decide we want to. You know. Penetrate. Any of us.”
 

“You have some?” Blaine breaks away from Kurt to look at her, but he’s having some trouble focusing. Kurt’s hand on his arm is promising him all kinds of wordless things. “Some, uh. Condoms?” Well, one of them should be able to say it.
 

Rachel nods, her flushed face blurring a bit with the speed of it. “My dads bought some for me when Finn and I first started dating. We might need some towels, too. I’ll be right back,” she says, again, and rushes up the stairs, feet pounding on the flight.

 
“Do you feel –” Nervous, Blaine’s about to ask, but then Kurt fists a hand in Blaine’s shirt, yanking Blaine to him, and they’re kissing in earnest, now, Kurt’s tongue sliding over Blaine’s teeth, Kurt nearly crawling into Blaine’s lap. It’s uncharacteristically aggressive. He’s never seen Kurt like this before.
 

God,” he gasps, pulling back, “you don’t –” and he feels Kurt’s other hand trembling over the button of his jeans. “You don’t have to – hey, slow down –”


“We only have a – while we’re –”
 

While they’re alone, Blaine realizes, and suddenly understands that Kurt wants to prove something about Rachel’s unimportance before she gets back. Like this is a contest Kurt thinks he can win, somehow, by racing towards a finish line.
 

Kurt scrambles at the zipper, yanking it down. Blaine knows he should stop him, because it isn’t fair to Rachel, but seeing Kurt like this – so unexpectedly demanding – is making him impossibly harder. He groans, lifting his hips towards Kurt’s touch.
 

“Blaine,” Kurt says, breaking the word into two shaky syllables, and then he’s pushing a tentative hand beneath Blaine’s boxers, fingers closing around his cock. Blaine inhales at the touch, a shaky whistle of air between closed teeth. It’s the first time anyone’s actually held him down there (not including the frequent contact he’s had with his own hand), and he’s shocked at how different it feels. Lighter. Smoother, even.
 

“We should, we should wait for,” Blaine tries, except Kurt’s stroking him now under the cloth, fast and firm and rough, and he can’t think enough to finish his –


There’s Rachel, on the stairs: feet hammering down.
 

Blaine looks up, mouth open with helpless need, and she sees him as she’s crossing the room; sees Kurt with his hand inside Blaine’s boxers. She’s carrying several hand towels and a strip of condoms. Maybe six or seven. (He’s not exactly sure why Rachel thinks they’ll need that many.)
 

“I wasn’t sure how many to get,” she says, like she’s read his mind, but she’s staring at the scene in front of her. “I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Kurt, what are you doing?”
 

“What does it look like?” Kurt’s pumping harder now, focused on the task at hand, and Blaine groans, lifting his hips off the couch. It’s rough without lotion. He’s finding that he likes it rough. “This is my boyfriend, Rachel.” Both words are equally waited, like the possession and Blaine’s label matter just the same amount. “I’m in the process of giving him a handjob. Do you have a problem with that?”
 

“You,” she hisses, shaking the strip of condoms in Kurt's general direction, “are being rude. And petty. It makes you look incredibly unattractive.”
 

“You don’t get to talk about looks when you’ve modeled yours after a ‘before’ picture,” Kurt snaps, still jerking his fist.
 

Rachel drops the condoms and towels on the floor, and Blaine panics as she rushes over to them, because he’s not exactly sure what she’s going to do when she gets there. “Wait. Stop, Kurt. Just hold on. We need to include Rachel.”
 

Reluctantly, Kurt slides his hand out and away, settling back against the couch with a look of stubborn disappointment on his face. “Fine. How do we do this, anyway? Is there a protocol?”
 

Blaine has no idea. He’s still hard enough that he can’t think of a response that won’t sound like complete gibberish.
 

Rachel stares at his open pants, at the bulge tenting his boxers beneath the gap of the fly. “I didn’t have the foresight to do research,” she says, “but I would assume that jumping on one of the participants while the other is out of the room isn’t considered polite behavior.”
 

“Rachel, you could get on my lap to start,” Blaine says, quickly, just as Kurt opens his mouth to retort. He doesn’t want things to get out of hand, and someone’s got to take action to keep this on course and reasonably friendly. It’ll have to be him. “Maybe just, uh, kind of straddle me?”
 

Her face relaxes out of its pique, and she nods, stepping over him, one foot on either side of his own. Next to him on the couch, Kurt inhales as Rachel lowers herself onto Blaine’s lap, legs folded, knees pressing against the outside of his thighs. Blaine grabs impulsively for Kurt’s hand, wanting to touch him, too. God, Rachel’s warm: he can feel her through the denim. He lifts up a little off the couch, trying to get closer, wanting that warmth on his cock. The pressure, too.


“Move – please,” he says, a little too sharply, “move,” before Kurt’s first and middle fingers press over Blaine’s mouth and he licks at them without thinking. Kurt makes a startled, strangled sound, and that’s when Rachel moves, oh, she really does, her hips rolling forward and her crotch pressing on his.


Blaine closes his eyes, briefly, and grips the top of Rachel’s thighs as she grinds against him, pushing far enough under her skirt so that he’s touching the elastic border of her panties. Kurt slips his fingers between Blaine’s lips, and he sucks at them, wanting Kurt to react. He does, and the low whine makes Blaine jerk his hips up into Rachel.


Oh,” Rachel gasps, and grabs at his shirt, looking for something to steady her. “Could you – Blaine, I’d like it if you’d – “
 

He thinks he knows what she means, or, at least, he knows what he’d like to do, and slips one of his fingers beneath the elastic. Rachel tenses as he wanders into the tight coils of her damp hair and says, softly, “Like that. Yes.”
 

Kurt pushes farther into Blaine’s mouth, past his teeth and over his eager tongue, until his knuckles meet Kurt’s lips, and Blaine wonders briefly if Kurt wants him to choke a little. He wouldn’t mind. His own finger pushes between Rachel’s folds, and she squirms. 


“You’re so wet,” he tells her, trying to talk around Kurt’s insistent hand, because he wants Rachel to know he’s noticed. "You'll rub it onto my jeans if you're not careful.” He doesn't realize how much the idea of that turns him on until he says it: sneaking into his room at home later, making sure no one sees the patches of denim stiff with Rachel Berry's arousal.
 

Rachel takes a deep breath. She’s probably imagining it too.
 

“I don’t want to know those things,” Kurt says, too quickly. “Could you keep that information to yourself for right now, Blaine?”
 

Blaine closes his mouth over Kurt’s fingers and resumes sucking in response, because he’s nothing if not willing to cater to Kurt’s needs right now, especially when Kurt’s starting to breathe a little faster. His finger finds the opening he’s looking for, and he pushes inside her blindly as Rachel, whimpering high in her throat, grabs at Kurt’s neck and shoulders – to pull him closer? – to do what?
 

He doesn’t find out, because Kurt pulls back, abruptly, and his fingers slide out of Blaine’s mouth. “I’m not ready for that,” he blurts out. “I don’t want to be touched yet, please.”


“What can I – ” Blaine’s gripping Rachel’s hip with one hand, his other hand still working between her thighs. “Kurt, I want to make it good for you. Tell me –”

 
“Blaine,” Rachel interrupts, and she sounds breathless. “Why don’t you explain to Kurt what you’re feeling right now? Words can be extremely arousing – ah.” He’s found a spongy sort of place, and she seems to like it. Blaine presses against the wall, testing. She moans. “Say – how I’m making you feel. Say what you want Kurt to do.”

 
Blaine looks at Kurt. He’s far paler than usual, which Blaine would’ve thought impossible, but his cheeks are flushed. It’s unclear whether it’s arousal or embarrassment causing the color. “Yes,” Kurt whispers. “You could do that.”
 

Rachel raises a hand to her breasts as he begins to talk, and he watches, fascinated, as she pinches first one nipple, than the other, looking for stimulation. He’s never written down this kind of talk in a notebook, in tiny handwriting or otherwise, and he stumbles over his words as he says them. “I want – I’m so hard right now. Kurt, I want your hand on me again. I’ve been thinking about that for so long.“ (Two weeks is a long time, by some standards.) “You – I want to fuck your fist. Your mouth, and – Jesus, Rachel.” She’s suddenly wetter, around his hand, dripping a little onto the back of it. He had no idea that was possible.


“Oh,” Kurt says. “Blaine –” He’s panting, now, and Blaine watches as his hands skirt around the top of his lap, over the sides of his groin, not quite touching. He wonders just how aroused Kurt is, and guesses quite a lot. Not enough, though, to be desperate. Not yet.


“If Kurt still isn’t ready to be touched,” Rachel interrupts, clenching a little around his finger, “I’d like to try something. Now, while I’m still – well, I’ve read about it before, and it sounds like something I’d enjoy.”
 

“What?” He tries to think what she could mean, and hopes, fervently, it’s not something that requires him to get in an advanced position. Blaine doesn’t have the experience, knowledge, or presence of mind to arrange his body into anything creative.
 

“Cunnilingus. That’s oral sex on a woman.”
 

“I know what it is,” Blaine says, a little relieved. “Kurt, are you –“
 

“I am not performing cunnilingus on Rachel. Absolutely not.”
 

“Not intending anything of the sort. I just meant to ask, are you all right with that? If I - perform cunnilingus on her. While you watch.”
 

“He doesn’t have to just watch,” Rachel breathes, her hips still rolling against Blaine’s hand. “He could participate by telling you what to do.”
 

(Rachel stands while Blaine kneels in front of her. Kurt forces his head against Rachel’s pussy, holding him firmly, and Kurt’s hard cock bumps against the back of Blaine’s head. He says: eat her. do it.)
 

“Yes,” Blaine gasps, still staring at Kurt. “Please, Kurt. I want –”
 

Kurt’s eyes are huge. He looks at Rachel, and nods.


 

‘cause I believe in loving.


Rachel doesn’t stand, after all. She sits, primly, on the edge of the couch, as far forward as she can slide without falling off.


“I’d rather be sitting,” she explains, when Blaine suggests that maybe she might be better off in another position. “I’m feeling a little shaky, probably from arousal. This way, I can grab onto the seat cushions if I need to. Did you want me to take off my skirt, or my blouse, or anything else? It seems kind of strange, still wearing so much when we’re being very intimate.”


They both tell her no, simultaneously, Kurt’s eyes still a little too big. Blaine thinks he can guess Kurt’s reasons for wanting Rachel to remain clothed. His own, though, are very different. There’s something about the idea of slipping his head beneath Rachel’s skirt that excites him: being confined between her thighs and under the fabric.


He kneels in front of her, trying to get comfortable. She readily parts her knees, and his hands aren’t as steady as he’d like them to be as he reaches underneath her skirt for her underpants. Rachel lifts off the couch an inch or two, to oblige him. They’re nothing fancy, just simple bikini-cut cotton panties, but to Blaine they’re more titillating than just about any item he can imagine, just because they’ve been tucked against her all this time.


“Kurt,” he says, bending down his head a little towards her as she kicks off the underwear he's pulled down. “Will you instruct me? I want you to tell me what to do to her, all right?”


He hears a noise from Kurt behind him that sounds like choked agreement.


“There are a few words I’d specifically like you to use in your instructions to Blaine,’” Rachel says above him, a little unsteadily. “'Clitoris' is one of them. Or ‘clit,’ if you’d prefer the casual version. It’s actually a clinical term. You find it in textbooks. Ms. Holliday even wrote it on the whiteboard during class, remember? It’s not as though I’m asking you to say –” She hesitates, for a brief second. “Pussy. Or cunt. Not that I think there’s anything –”


“Oh, my God, just, seriously, Rachel, I need you to stop talking right now,” Kurt interjects, shrilly, and Blaine rests his cheek against Rachel’s thigh, overwhelmed by the graphic words she’s used. Her smell, too. He’s heard other guys talk about eating out girls before. Usually the discussion’s tinged with a hint of disgust, but now that he’s up close, Blaine’s suddenly thinking he’d like to swallow down as much of her as he can. His cock pulses, and he reaches between his legs to cup it through his open pants, over his boxers.


“Shit,” he says, and then, “Kurt, just fucking direct me already, I’m going to come if I don’t do something, and I don’t want to come yet, so please.”


Kurt’s voice shakes. “Lick her thigh,” he says, very quietly. “Upwards. Towards her - you know.”


Blaine obeys, pressing his tongue flat against the smooth skin, and slides up under her skirt. It’s dark here, but he’s guessing he’s too close to see much of anything even if she was exposed, and anyway, he knows exactly where he’s going. He pushes his boxers and jeans down as best he can, managing enough inches so that his cock springs out, slapping up against his skin. It's a little weird, still being mostly clothed, but taking the time to strip isn't high on his list of priorities right now.


“More,” Rachel pants, and he knows she’s talking to Kurt. “I need more.”


“Open her up with your tongue,” Kurt whispers, and there’s something about the way he says it that lets Blaine knows this is something Kurt wants Blaine to do to him. The realization almost makes him come right there but he can’t, he can’t spoil this, and so he tries to focus on the task in front of him: Rachel, wet and ready.


“He’s aroused, Blaine,” Rachel says, from far away, as he licks a careful stripe down her cleft, nudging inside a little with his tongue; pushing in a finger, too. “I can see it.”


“Rachel,” Kurt starts, but her name is threadbare in his mouth, and he doesn’t continue.


“Well, you are. It’s obvious. And I think Blaine would want to know. Don’t you?”


“Yes,” Blaine says, into her, muffled, and she shudders a little with the vibration of the word. “Tell me. Say more. Loudly, so I can hear you.”


He’s not sure, for a moment, if she’s able to understand his muffled voice, because she doesn’t answer right away, but then he hears, “I can see the shape of his penis. His hand keeps moving next to his thigh like he wants to touch it but ca– oh, oh, my God.”


Blaine’s apparently found the right spot with his tongue, and he’s done it without being directed by either of them. He pushes at it, just a little, with the tip, feeling around the firm nub of wet skin, and fucks her slowly with his finger.


Her legs shake in place like she’s being jolted. “Yes,” she says, pushing herself up a little, her thighs pressing over his cheeks and ears, until he’s nearly deaf with her, and mute, too. “Oh, please, yes, that’s so good.”


Kurt groans behind him, and Blaine isn’t sure if it’s due to Rachel’s pleading or the fact that Blaine’s fumbling for his straining cock with his free hand, pulling at it in short, increasingly urgent strokes. He’s never wanted another set of eyes more than right now: to have in his sightline both Rachel, open for him, and Kurt, shaking with nerves and need.


“Pull his hair, Rachel,” Kurt says, in the distance, “please, do that,” and Rachel does, dragging him into her. For a second, he can’t breathe, and he has to angle his face up to free his nose. He chokes, mouth working against her, his chin jutting against the wet flesh.


Hand,” Blaine manages. “Kurt –“ Even though it sounds incomprehensible to his obstructed ears, Kurt seems to understand, because after a moment he feels the gift of another hand pushing his own off his cock. Kurt’s palm feels slick, and Blaine wonders if he’s licked it, first. He shudders, hips twitching, and his teeth scrape down the smooth skin just above Rachel’s clit as Kurt moves his hand. It’s not as rough as he’d been, earlier, and Blaine whines against Rachel’s pussy, wanting it harder, coarser.


Rachel comes with a sharp cry, clenching her thighs. Blaine rides it out as best he can, swallowing her shudder with a sense of real awe. He’s done this to her. He’s brought her here.


Kurt’s still moving his fist with determination, just south of a good rhythm, and as Rachel relaxes back against the couch, breathing heavily, Blaine lifts his head and hand out from under her skirt. The light disorients him, for a second. There’s Kurt, though, to his right, coming quickly into focus: he’s kneeling next to him, still stroking Blaine’s cock, the other pushing against his groin through his pants, and oh fuck, when Blaine sees that


“I can’t,” he gasps, need tripping over his tongue. “I can’t. Let me, please, I want to touch you, I want to suck you –“


“I’m so – ah – “ Kurt whimpers, and Blaine doesn’t care how ridiculous it is. He falls on him, pushing Kurt to the floor, and his hands are stupid with hurry.


His mouth still tastes like Rachel when he grabs the base of Kurt’s cock and takes the head between his lips, but she’s gone after his tongue pads over the slit, newly slick with precome. It’s Kurt in his mouth now: sharp and brackish. They’re in a terrible position. Kurt’s flat on his back, pants shoved down to his thighs, and Blaine’s leaning over him on the floor, propping himself up with his free hand. It’s hurting his shoulder, but he doesn’t care, because Kurt’s making the sounds he’s made in Blaine’s fantasies for the last two weeks: loose, low moans. He thrusts up hard into Blaine’s mouth and Blaine nearly gags, signaling not so hard, not so much.


Kurt says something incomprehensible and already he’s coming, too quickly, shaking up off the floor. Blaine grabs at his hip to push him down – he’ll jerk right out of Blaine’s mouth if he doesn’t stop moving like that – and sucks as best he can, sucks like he’d like to be sucked, seeing him through.


“Sorry,” Kurt offers, breathlessly, from his prone position on the floor, as Blaine pulls back, swallowing, and wipes at his mouth. “That was fast.”


“It’s fine,” Blaine manages, sitting up, and returns his hand to his cock, stroking again. He’s right on the edge, and it shouldn’t take him more than a few quick  movements to bring him over.


“Wait - “


Somehow - he doesn’t know how - he’d almost forgotten Rachel. She jumps off the couch, crouching down to meet them on the floor, and her smile is beautiful because he knows instinctively what it means for him. “Kurt,” she says, and they exchange a quick look. “Help me?”


Kurt pushes himself up from his prone position, still trembling a little, and says nothing as he reaches for the base of Blaine’s cock, gripping tightly. Rachel touches the head with her fingers, and as Kurt begins to stroke, up and down, she moves, too. They’re not in sync, and Rachel's caressing him way more lightly than he'd like, but he watches as Kurt’s fist slides up his cock to meet Rachel’s hand, repeatedly, their skin bumping, and he comes with a groan over her fingers.


He throws his head back and they're gone from him, too quickly.


“It’s a good thing I brought towels,” Rachel says brightly, in the silence that follows, and holds up her shining hand.





they’re playing our song.


No one in the movies, Blaine thinks, collapsed in between them on the couch, ever looks like they feel sticky afterwards. Tired, yes. Sticky, no. He tries to imagine Jimmy Stewart or Kim Novak with drying come on their fingers. It’s impossible. He needs a shower.


“Rachel,” Kurt says, quietly, on his left. “I didn’t mean what I said about you looking like a 'before' ad.” He actually had, Blaine knows, but it’s well-intentioned, and he smiles, a little, at Kurt’s attempt to be gracious. “I also didn’t mean what I said about Ali MacGraw’s hair. I was angry, and the insult was uncalled for. Her hair is amazing.”


“I know, Kurt. I appreciate that. Thank you.” She doesn’t bother to lift her head. “And I’m sorry I said you looked unattractive. It wasn’t even true. You’re very attractive.”


He nods, accepting her apology, and Blaine settles back into the couch, knowing at some point after he gets up, cleans himself off, returns to his life, he’ll have to start thinking about the decision he needs to make. They’ll have to have conversations, the three of them, and unpleasant ones, too. As much as he’d like to think they’ve just shared a solution, Blaine knows he can't convince himself that's true.


None of that just yet, though. For now, he’ll rest here between them, rumpled, and listen to their low voices, speaking in a language he loves.


“So, do you know what you are now?” Rachel asks, suddenly, turning her head. Blaine knows it's taken her a lot of self-restraint to wait a full three minutes to bring it up. (The other question, threading underneath: do you know who you want?)


Kurt’s sharp taste is on Blaine’s tongue. Rachel’s strong scent is everywhere in the room. The sound and heat of them both, too: these things tangled into something he still can’t separate.
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no personal business on company pond

December 2011

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