Fic (Complete): Summer 2010 - Glee, Kurt/Finn - 3/4
Summer 2010, Part 3:
The next day he came into work whistling a jaunty version of ‘Crazy Train’, but when he walked through the door and ran into Rachel, he stopped.
“Hey,” she said, looking vaguely nervous.
“Hey,” Finn said.
“Hi,” said one of the guys with Rachel. “Do you work here?”
Which was how he finally met Rachel’s dads, Jeff and David. They both seemed really nice. When they started talking to him about their minivan, he went and got Burt.
“We’ve always had it serviced at the dealership,” Jeff told Burt. “But the man who ran the place retired--great for him, but not so great for us, because his son is running things now, and he’s… he’s not the man his father was.”
“He made some remarks,” David said. “Rude ones.”
Burt nodded. “Nicky is a good man,” he said sagely. “But his kid is a total twerp.”
“Le mot juste. But then our Rachel suggested we might come here instead--I guess she and your son know each other?”
“Hey, Dad, where’s--” Kurt said as he walked in, and then there was a whole lot of looking around in lots of different directions. “Finn. Rachel?”
“Oh my God,” Jeff said, grabbing David by the arm and pointing at Kurt. “Celine Dion!”
Finn felt a tug on his sleeve. “Is there… can we talk for a minute?” Rachel whispered to him. He glanced at Kurt but there was no help there--he was busy being enthusiastically and affectionately mobbed by both of Rachel’s dads, looking a little shocked and not entirely comfortable. Burt looked like he thought the whole thing was pretty funny.
Finn led Rachel outside and around the corner, where Burt had set up a few benches for customers who were waiting to pick up their cars. He sat down next to her, suddenly right back in that guilty-sorry-sucktastic place he hadn’t been in since… well, since other things took his mind off it. He wondered if she was going to yell at him again--but she didn’t look angry, with her brows drawn together like that and her hands folded carefully in her lap. She looked… tense.
“So,” She said, and stopped to clear her throat. “I heard from Puck who heard from Santana who heard from Brittany who heard from Quinn who heard from Mercedes that you were working here.”
He relaxed a little. “Yeah,” he said. “All summer. I like it.”
“Oh. Good.” She looked away from him then, smoothing her skirt. She was tan and kind of glowing, beautiful. But he didn’t feel like he was in love with her anymore. And even though it would have sucked beyond the power of imagining if he did, that still made him sad.
“Listen, Finn, I feel terrible about what happened.”
He took a breath. Apparently she wasn’t interested in yelling at him. Yet. “Me too. I never meant… I didn’t set out to hurt you--”
“I know you didn’t. And I thought about it a lot, and… well, it’s not like you cheated on me or anything, and you *did* tell me the truth as soon as I told you the truth, and I… I think I overreacted. I do that sometimes.”
She seemed to expect him to say something, but he had no idea what. “I… okay.”
She turned to him then, her eyes suddenly bright as her words came faster. “And then I heard you were working here, and it seems like nobody’s seen you all summer, and I thought of course because of what happened with me, and before that with Puck and Quinn, and even… and even with Santana, so no wonder you’ve gone off to live the life of a… of a mechanic monk or something, because you’ve just been too wounded by the world.”
Finn choked a little, then coughed. He couldn’t help it.
Rachel didn’t seem to notice. “And then I thought about how you bravely and recklessly declared your love for me, after everything we’d been through, and how incredibly handsome you looked when you were standing there, like you were overcome by your passion for me, and I realized I… I was wrong to break up with you.”
“Oh.” Finn shifted on the bench. “I… uh…”
Rachel reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry I broke up with you.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” He was.
Rachel looked in his eyes. “I forgive you.” Her eyes were enormous, and then they were even bigger because she was leaning slowly in to him, and he felt almost like he’d been hypnotized.
He figured out what was happening in the split-second before it actually happened and leaned back, pulling his hand away and almost toppling himself off the bench. “Whoa. I can’t… Rachel--”
Rachel looked hurt all over again. “Is it… am I too late? I’m too late--you’re already with someone else, aren’t you?”
“No,” Finn said slowly. “I, uh… I just don’t think--”
“Is it Santana?”
“No, I’m not--I’m not dating Santana. I’m not… I just… this is kind of… I didn’t expect--”
“Oh God… I moved too fast, didn’t I?” Rachel asked, crossing her arms and hanging her head.
“Huh?”
“I always do that--I try not to, but as a natural high-achiever it’s easy for me to forget that other people might not have my emotional facility and range. It’s not fair for me to expect you to keep up.”
“Um.”
Rachel lifted her head. Her eyes were brimming, but she was also smiling a little, sadly. “You must have gone through hell letting go of me when I pushed you away. I understand why you need some time.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
She took his hand again, but only to squeeze it for a second before she let it go. “So… I’ll be here, when you’re ready. And until then, I’ll just… be your friend.”
“Uh… okay. Good. I… thanks. Me too.” He felt kind of woozy, like he was standing too close to a train that was speeding by. But he was kind of used to that when talking with Rachel, so really there was nothing to do except let the train whoosh by and hope he hadn’t left any important pieces of himself on the tracks. “Well, I guess we should--”
“Yes. My dads will be looking for me.”
He led her back into the shop. It seemed very gloomy and dark after sitting in the bright sun, but it was at least ten degrees cooler, and the smells of machine oil and tires and car exhaust seemed oddly comforting. Jeff and David were still talking with Burt and Kurt.
“There’s our girl!” Jeff said, putting his arm around Rachel’s shoulders and kissing the top of her head. “Young lady, you get an extra gold star today for recommending this place--Bebe will be in good hands, I can tell.”
“Bebe?” Burt asked.
“The van,” Jeff said. “Rachel named her that. After--”
“Bebe Neuwirth,” Kurt and Rachel said at the same time, and then kind of glared at each other.
Jeff reached out and actually pinched Kurt’s cheek. “Oh, smart *and* talented--aren’t you a treat?” He turned to Burt. “What a wonderful son you have--you must be so proud.”
From the look on Burt’s face, Finn thought he must not hear that very often. “I am. Very proud. I’m… I couldn’t be more proud of him.”
“Well I’m so glad to hear it--because if you weren’t I’d just scoop him up and take him home to be the baby brother our Rachel never had, because he is *just that fabulous*.”
Rachel and Kurt and Finn all went wide-eyed with horror, but nobody else seemed to notice.
Soon after that the Berry family left, and Finn followed Kurt into the locker room. “I’m cured,” Kurt said dryly, climbing into his coverall. “My whole life I’ve been disappointed that I didn’t have a gay relative to confide in, but I am now entirely cured. I love *all* my hopelessly heterosexual relations, even my stinky Aunt Mildred. Love them all.”
“They were nice,” Finn said. “They liked you.”
“Yes--which freaked me out completely. I’m just not used to it.”
“Kurt,” Finn said, and took a breath. “We need to talk.”
Kurt looked at him, then looked up at the ceiling for a second, then back at him, and nodded. “I thought we might,” he said, and finished buttoning his collar.
“Hey,” Finn said, because Kurt hadn’t said anything but he didn’t have to, it was right there. “Not that kind of talk.” He looked around, then walked over to where Kurt was standing and leaned in to kiss him once, quickly, before backing away. “It’s just… talk. After work, okay?”
“Okay,” Kurt said, closing his locker. “But if this is about me finding it in my heart to step in as Rachel’s little brother, I can pretty much promise you a world of disappointment right now.”
“Yeesh. No.”
***
Kurt made turkey sandwiches, and they took a loaded tray down to his room. “Food first,” Kurt said. “Otherwise I won’t be able to hear you over the roar of your stomach.” So they ate, or rather, Finn ate while he watched Kurt kind of move things around on his plate. Then he leaned back against the soft pillows on Kurt’s bed, and told him everything.
When he was finished, Kurt frowned at him. “I’m sorry, I’m… maybe I’m being dense, but I’m not seeing a problem, here--other than, you know, the usual problems one has when talking to Rachel, such as getting a word in edgewise or conveying any concepts which do not include her as a central focus--”
“I’m being serious,” Finn said.
“So am I.”
“I said I wasn’t with anyone else.”
“So you said.”
“But… that’s… I lied to her.”
Kurt’s frown deepened. “And?”
“And--I don’t like lying to her. I suck at it.”
Kurt shook his head. “That’s going to be a problem, then, because you can’t exactly have a clandestine… whatever, without lying about it--it’s kind of a requirement.”
“Yeah, but now it’s like she’s just… waiting for me to adjust, or something, and then take up where I left off with her.”
Kurt shrugged. “So? That could happen.”
Finn sat up. “No, it couldn’t. Not while… no. I don’t think, not ever. And that’s not fair to her.”
“Hm. Okay. Well, maybe you could tell her you figured out over the summer that you’re still not over Quinn--”
“But I am over Quinn.”
Kurt threw his hands up. “Well, if you’re unhappy with the thought of Rachel checking her watch every time she sees you, you’re going to have to tell her *something*--”
“Yeah, but I don’t have to lie to her.”
Kurt blinked. “Yes, Finn, you do. Because you can’t tell her the truth.”
“Why not?”
Kurt looked at him like he had three heads. “You do remember that Rachel is just about the worst keeper of secrets in the history of, oh, ever, right?”
It was Finn’s turn to shrug. “Why would it have to be a secret?”
Kurt’s face was pale, carefully set. “No.”
Finn’s stomach felt like a clenched fist. “Why?”
“Because.” Kurt set his untouched plate down on his bedside table. “You, of all people, should know why. Haven’t you had enough of your jock friends asking you what color dress you’re planning to wear to the prom, just because you joined Glee Club?”
“Those people aren’t my friends. And it’s not like… I mean, people aren’t going to stop being stupid, no matter what they do or don’t know about me.”
Kurt was quiet for a while. It seemed like a very long while.
“Finn.” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “You can’t tell anyone. Not Rachel, and not anybody else. You can’t.”
Finn leaned back against the pillows. “What, it’s okay for me to… to mess around with you, but it’s not okay for me to tell anyone about it?”
“Finally. Yes.” Kurt looked almost relieved.
“No. And I never expected to hear something like that from you.” Finn’s stomach turned over. “Is it… are you ashamed of me?”
“Oh my God. No.” Kurt reached out and touched his neck, gently, tracing down to his shirt collar, and Finn’s heart thumped hard. “I think… you’re an amazing guy. I’m not… I’m so not ashamed of you.”
“But you don’t want anyone to know about us.”
Kurt shook his head.
“Why not? What… is there something you’re not telling me?”
He could see Kurt swallow. “Can you let it… can you let this go?” Kurt asked softly. “Please?”
Finn shook his head. “No. Whatever it is, I think you should just say it.”
Kurt looked sad and a little hurt, but he nodded. “Okay.” He sat up and turned towards Finn, crossing his legs under him. “Finn, it doesn’t make sense for you to tell people about this, because once you’re open about it some people *will* do everything they can to make you suffer--and some of them will go on doing that for however long they know you, which will pretty much be for however long you’re in this town.”
“But you get that all the time--”
“Hold it. Yes, I get that all the time. I’m gay, and it’s something I’m always going to have to deal with. I chose my terms for that when I chose to come out.” He took a breath. “And there’s the difference, Finn. You can’t come out--because you’re not gay. You’re just… you’re experimenting. Just experimenting. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all--I know that, and I think you probably know that too. But saying ‘I was just experimenting’ isn’t going to cut it when some no-teeth hockey-playing knuckledragger decides to make himself feel like more of a man by rearranging your face. And I can’t… I don’t want to see that happen to you. Not when it doesn’t have to.”
Finn blinked. “That’s… that’s your big reason?”
Kurt looked sad, so sad. “It’s all the reason I need. It’s all the reason you should need, too.”
“You think I’m just experimenting.”
“You *are* just experimenting--and there’s nothing wrong with--”
“I’m not just experimenting.”
“You’re not gay, Finn--”
“Well, duh,” Finn said hotly, sitting up. “I know I’m not gay--but I’m not straight, either. And I’m not experimenting--I mean, yeah, I’m experimenting in the sense that I’m trying new stuff, but--no, this isn’t an experiment. *You’re* not an experiment.” He sighed. “You know, I like girls. I also like guys. I understand that it’s possible to like both.” He shrugged. “I like both.”
There was a pause. A long pause. Kurt blinked at him a few times while the pause got longer. Finally he cleared his throat, tilting his head. “You’re… you’ve decided you’re bisexual.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve… thought about this.”
“Well I kind of had to, once I figured out I couldn’t be around you without wanting to… uh. Yeah.”
“And then you decided--bisexual.”
“Yeah.”
Kurt looked skeptical. “I… no. I don’t think so.”
Finn was tempted to smack his perfect hair. “You think I’m lying about this?”
“No--of course not. I just think that maybe… see, the problem is, you’re going with this ‘I like girls and guys’ thing, but you don’t like *guys*; you like me. Because we’re friends and because, I don’t know, I think because maybe somehow I make it safe for you to be curious about stuff, or maybe just because you like the way I… you know. But you don’t like ‘guys’--I mean, other than me.”
Finn swallowed. “Uh…”
“Oh my *God*.” Kurt said, and sat up straight. “*No way*.”
Finn shrugged, and Kurt leaned forward and took him by the shoulders, his eyes suddenly huge. “You like *guys*!? I mean, ‘like’--as in, ‘are attracted to’?, not ‘would attend a football game with’?”
“I didn’t think so for a while,” Finn said slowly. “But I tried to find out, because I needed to know--I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I couldn’t stop and I just… I had to know. So I looked at a ton of guys, and I thought about… stuff, about whether I’d want to, and it was like no, no, no, no--and I had pretty much decided that I… that it was just you, or that I was doing that--that experimenting thing, like you said, but then I noticed this other guy, and I… yeah. If I weren’t… if we weren’t, you know. I’d go for it. Definitely.”
“Oh my God,” Kurt repeated, letting go of his shoulders and sinking back, looking stunned. Then he suddenly frowned. “Wait--what guy? Who’s this other guy?”
Finn’s face got hot. “Uh. Just a guy I ran into--I was looking at everybody, you know, trying to figure things out. His name’s Patrick, I think--I’m pretty sure he goes to the Catholic school. I think his Mom is the manager of the Starbucks where he works--”
Kurt leaned forward again. “At the Starbucks--oh, no--that bitchy twink with the Donna Karan glasses and the Abercrombie & Fitch tee-shirt collection and the stupid blond highlights in his stupid, stupid hair? The one who always has some kind of snide remark about how much time I must spend ironing?”
Finn couldn’t help smiling. “I dunno. I thought he was nice.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Well of course he was nice to *you*, because he probably wants to spread you on toast and eat you for breakfast.”
Finn flopped sideways onto the bed, and stretched out. “So. I guess I shouldn’t bother bringing up my fun idea for a three-way with you and Patrick, right?”
Kurt turned almost purple, but when he finally spoke he sounded perfectly calm. “Finn Hudson. I have never wanted to slap you so badly. Also kiss you. You utter dork.”
Finn grinned. “Okay. Can I have your sandwich?”
Kurt was quiet for a long time, kind of frowning off into space. Finn didn’t say anything either, because, well, delicious sandwich.
“I still don’t think you should tell anybody,” Kurt said finally, once Finn put down the now-empty plate.
“Why not?”
“Because… Because you should have more time--a lot more time--to get used to… all this. Because it’s not like telling people you’re bi is going to get you a fifty percent discount on the crap people would pull if you told them you were gay--in fact, I think it might be worse. And because you might regret it.” He sighed. “Because you don’t have to.”
“Kurt, are you telling me to stay in the closet and pretend to be straight when I know I’m not?”
Kurt covered his eyes with one hand. “God help me, I might actually be doing that.” He dropped his hand and shook his head. “I just think you should think about it, that’s all. I think… it has to be your decision. But that if you decide that’s what you want to do, you should be sure. Really sure.”
“Okay. That makes sense. I can do that.”
Kurt went quiet again, but this time he was smiling softly, bouncing one leg that was crossed over the other. “So,” he said finally, brightly. “You’re bisexual.”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“You’re not just experimenting.”
“Nope.”
“You want to have freaky three-way sex with me and a trashy fashion-whore barista, because you think that would be fun.”
Finn bit his cheek. “Well, I didn’t say it had to be *freaky*. Couldn’t we have… I dunno, *friendly* three-way sex?”
Kurt snorted. “With me and that Patrick trollop in the same room? Not likely.”
Finn hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Does it… does that make things different? You… you’re okay, right?”
Kurt gave him a look, then got up off the bed and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
Finn followed. “Where are we going?”
Kurt dragged him into the bathroom. “I need to do something with your hair.”
“What? I didn’t… are there special bisexual hair requirements that I don’t know about? Why would you need to--”
“I don’t,” Kurt said, locking the door behind them. “But that’s at least a semi-convincing argument I can give my Dad if he comes down here--but I really don’t want to use it, so you should probably brace yourself, because this is going to be fast.” He put his arms around Finn’s neck and backed him into the smooth stone countertop that surrounded the sink.
“But--it’s not date night--”
“Screw date night,” Kurt said, then grabbed his hair with one hand and pulled him down into a wet, open-mouthed kiss that was so hot and nasty that Finn realized Kurt must have actually been holding back with him, before--a concept that was kind of terrifying. When Kurt was done Finn gasped for air and tried to stay upright and had to reach down to adjust himself in his pants because, fuck.
“You,” Kurt told him. “Keep quiet. Bite a towel, if you have to.” He yanked a towel off the rod next to the sink, then hooked it around the back of Finn’s neck and tugged him forward, looking right in his eyes and… Finn felt something low in his gut kind of lurch sideways. “Here--try the Nandina. They’re very absorbent.”
Kurt grabbed him by the hips and made sure he was braced against the counter, then dropped to his knees. He looked up through his lashes and licked his lips, and Finn twitched, hard. Everywhere. “No pressure or anything,” Kurt said quietly, “but if I hear you make any noise at all, I’m going to stop. Then I’m going to go upstairs and play Trivial Pursuit with my Dad. Just so you know.”
Finn was already panting, so he buried his face in the towel and just hung on. He couldn’t hear his belt being undone or his zipper, but all at once his jeans were around his ankles and his boxers were slid down quickly and carefully to mid-thigh and then a hot, smooth hand grabbed him--he sucked in air through the towel, as quietly as he could.
His groping hand found Kurt’s hair when it brushed his stomach and then he was in, then further in, then all the way in, and then he was shaking hard and biting his lips and--he just went for it. The whole thing probably would have been over and done with in three seconds except that he had to keep all his attention focused on not groaning and not yelling and on biting the stupid towel. It was like some kind of crazy balancing act, stroking into Kurt’s hot mouth until his lungs threatened to burst, then breathing, controlling, pulling himself together--but even those times were dangerous because Kurt never stopped, never let up, and it was so good so good so fucking good he wanted to scream. He knew he was going to come, and finally he jammed the towel between his teeth and used both hands on Kurt, one behind his neck and one in his hair, and fucked his mouth hard until he broke, throbbing endlessly and sobbing silently, trying to keep his feet because really, he thought he was maybe going to pass out a little, but he hoped not.
He was still swaying dizzily when Kurt stood up and leaned into him, bracing him against the counter--which was very helpful, very nice of him. Finn took that into consideration, so he didn’t actually maul Kurt when he lifted him onto the countertop and kissed his mouth once (his own cottony-parched, Kurt’s bitter-sloppy-wet) before he shoved that fucking towel into it and attacked Kurt’s pants. He didn’t bother with the boxer briefs problem but just shoved his hand down inside roughly, grabbed and started stroking, closing his eyes when Kurt started to shake.
But then Kurt’s arms came up around his neck and even through his own haze Finn could hear fast faint muffled breath, suppressed but full of so much need--and just like that, everything rough and edgy and demanding in him changed. Everything was softer, slower, spreading like liquid and rising like waves. It was something he absolutely didn’t know the word for, but whatever it was he was in it up to his chest and it was *huge*, it was huge and it was hard to breathe and he was kind of terrified, except for how he totally couldn’t seem to care about that part. He pulled the towel away from Kurt’s face and brushed his hair back gently, stroked his hot, smooth cock slowly with one hand and used the other to hold Kurt up when he collapsed backwards, easing him down and down onto the countertop. Kurt opened his eyes then, his pupils huge, dreamy, dazed.
“Finn,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Finn answered, husky and raw. He was hard again.
“We can’t. We shouldn’t take too long.”
“I know. But. But I want to.”
“I know. Me too.”
“Hours. Days. You feel so good…” Finn closed his eyes, because, God, lame. True, but lame.
“Finn.” Finn opened his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“If you… Oh. If you kiss me, I’ll come.”
“Okay.” He sank for what felt like forever, bending to Kurt’s open mouth. He made his way in slowly, and when their tongues touched Kurt’s cock jerked in his hand, spilling hot over his fingers and some on his arm--so sweet, and so good, and he thought that probably the world could have exploded at just that moment without him even noticing.
***
Game night was kind of weird these days, because Burt and his mom went all-out to make it a family kind of thing--but the way he felt around Kurt didn’t exactly fit with the concept of ‘family’--at least, not the kind of family Burt and his Mom probably had in mind.
He would be fine for a while, working through his turn at Pictionary (which he was pretty good at) or Scrabble (which he was completely hopeless at) and laughing and scarfing any and all snacks that were close enough to reach, but then Kurt would lean over to him to steal a pretzel or would do a little dance of victory in his chair and Finn would have to force himself to look somewhere else, to be normal, to not look like he was thinking about shoving the game board onto the floor so he could lay Kurt out on the table and--do the kind of things he really needed to avoid thinking about doing on game night.
“Finn--you okay? It’s your turn.” His mom looked a little concerned.
“Huh? Yeah. I was just… thinking. About cars. And, uh, baseball.”
Burt shook his head, handing him the dice. “Don’t try combining those, okay?”
Kurt didn’t even seem to be listening, but the next time Finn snuck a look at him, his cheeks were extra pink.
***
It was just Kurt’s bad luck that he talked a bunch of smack right before rolling himself into seven Sports category questions in a row, which was why Finn got to pick the song Kurt had to sing at work, in front of everybody, with choreography. Finn was hugely relieved, because he didn’t know ‘Hello Dolly’ but he was pretty sure she sang country music, which really wasn’t his strongest style.
His first choice for Kurt was ‘Painkiller’ by Judas Priest, but then he had Kurt watch the video, and then Kurt watched the video like fifty more times, and he said it was about “studying operatic themes” and “deciding how to approach the vocals”. But Finn kind of suspected Kurt was maybe developing a crush on Rob Halford, so he switched his pick to ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ by Def Leppard.
That turned out to be a mistake, because while he’d been happily imagining how uncomfortable and awkward Kurt would feel singing it, it had somehow slipped his mind that the song was like ten pounds of dirty-filthy-sexy jammed into a five-pound bag, and that it therefore might be kind of uncomfortable and awkward for him to listen to it, given that they were in public and at work, if Kurt really went for it.
Kurt really went for it. He got a standing ovation from the mechanics on shift and a thong flung at his head by Mrs. Miransky who was in for new radials, and Finn got to lock himself in the men’s room stall afterwards so he could quietly and furiously jerk off.
Sure, there was a little bit of payback when Kurt whispered something teasing about him blushing and he whispered back exactly why he was bright red and slightly sweaty--because then Kurt got all wobbly and distracted and had to go take his own turn in the men’s room. Which was awesome, but also something he really shouldn’t think about at work because, fuck.
***
Unlike fixing cars, giving blowjobs turned out to be much, much harder than he expected. At one point he considered asking if there was some kind of checklist or manual that he could maybe take home to study, but then he didn’t because it seemed like that might ruin the moment--which he had pretty much covered anyway, what with constant choking and always forgetting about his teeth.
Kurt kept insisting that he didn’t need to, pointedly reminding him that there were so many other things they could do, but Finn went on trying anyway. He had to--because he *loved* blowjobs but he wasn’t all that crazy about guilt, and getting-without-ever-giving made him feel terribly, horribly guilty, no matter what Kurt said about being just fine with that.
Kurt tried to be helpful, which was really annoying. He kept suggesting that Finn slow down, as if the problem had anything to do with moving too fast rather than just being completely awful at sucking dick. It was so annoying that eventually Finn decided to slow it down enough to qualify as torture, using his hand and mouth one millimeter at a time out of pure, angry spite--only then Kurt said ‘oh’ so softly and started shivering, fingers creeping gently into his hair and--oh.
So it seemed that ‘slow’ was the key to turning Kurt on with respect to blowjobs, which was the key to turning Finn on, which was the key to unlocking his throat and making his mouth flood so that he had to keep swallowing over and over while he sucked and hummed and groaned and humped the bed in desperation, which turned out to be the key to making Kurt go boneless and helpless and *loud* when he came, sounding so completely wrecked that Finn didn’t even hesitate before he swallowed everything and then straddled Kurt’s chest and kind of pathetically shoved his aching cock towards Kurt’s gasping mouth until Kurt sucked him in and gave him maybe five seconds of mind-bendingly good head before he came.
When he could breathe and move again, which took a while, he got up and did a little dance while he sang the parts of ‘Macho Man’ he could remember (he made up the rest), while Kurt laughed until he curled up in a ball and clutched his stomach, breathlessly begging him to have mercy.
***
On their next day off it was a hundred degrees outside by nine in the morning, so they went back to the pool. They were early enough to get chairs in the shade, but by eleven the place was packed. Finn swam until he was exhausted and waterlogged and a little sunburned despite the sunscreen Kurt insisted he slather on every hour or so, but he felt fantastic--floaty and drowsy and happy in his body, and the only regret he had was that he couldn’t strip Kurt naked right there and have sleepy-floaty fumbling sex with him before taking a nap. And also that he didn’t have a burrito the size of his head, because that would be… mmm.
“I wish I had a burrito the size of my head.”
Kurt’s sunglasses turned lazily in his direction. “The expression of pure, unadulterated lust on your face right now is both hilarious and vaguely disturbing.”
Finn squinted, considering. “If I had you totally naked right here and now and also had a mega-burrito, I honestly don’t know which one I would go for first.”
“If you tried to do both at the same time, I think that might officially qualify as kinky. It would undoubtedly qualify as disgusting.”
Finn grinned. “I like getting you all messy.”
“As long as you leave substances like motor oil and burrito fillings out of it, I have no problem with that.”
“Speaking of getting messy…”
“Oh, here we go.”
“Mom said she’s working an extra half-day tomorrow, getting some overtime, so since we’ve got the day off maybe you could come over and we could… uh.”
“Damn. I’m not around tomorrow, remember?”
Finn blinked. “Huh? No.”
“Mercedes and Quinn are back from camp, and Mercedes asked me to go with them to the mall to help with their late-summer look. I said yes, of course.”
“Oh.” Finn thought it over. “Did you tell me about that already?”
Kurt smiled. “I did, but you were kind of post-coital at the time, so I think you just mumbled ‘that’s awesome’ and started nuzzling me again.”
Finn had to admit, that sounded a lot like something he’d do. “Uh, yeah. I don’t actually remember that.”
“Do you want to come along? I’m sure it would be fine with everyone.”
“No, no--no offense, but helping girls shop isn’t really my thing.”
“You don’t say?” Kurt said in a dramatically shocked voice. “Well, maybe you could meet us afterwards--Mercedes said they wanted to go for ice cream.”
“That’s more like it,” Finn said. “Call me when the shopping part is over and the ice cream part gets rolling, okay?” Kurt nodded. Finn debated hotly with himself for a few seconds, then went ahead. “Are you… are you going to tell Mercedes anything? About us, I mean? I know you guys are tight.”
Kurt peered at him over the tops of his sunglasses. “No. It’s not… it’s not for me to tell.”
“And you still think I shouldn’t tell anyone either.”
“I still do.”
Finn sighed. “I Googled a bunch of bi pride stuff, you know. You’re totally oppressing me.”
Kurt cracked up. “Oh, Finn--you are just amazing. Rock on with your bi self.”
“Seriously, I found this one site that said--oh, look out--here comes your number-one fan.” Finn sat up, wincing as his sticky skin pulled away from the lounge chair.
Brandie Bellacek swooped down on both of them like a big hot curvy coconut-smelling bundle of goodness, calling him ‘Finny’ and combing her fingers through his hair until he was really glad he’d left his towel across his lap. She kissed Kurt on the mouth and then hugged him in a way that totally mashed his face into her boobs, which would probably have been hard to take in a couple different ways, except for the fact that Kurt looked like he was going to panic if it went on too long.
“Oh, you boys--how have you been? Baby, I was just thinking about you because I used that Lush conditioner you recommended and I…” At that point Finn noticed that Brandie wasn’t alone--she had what looked like an entire entourage of college-age jocks with her. “Oh hey, guys, these are my friends, Kurt and Finny. Boys, this is, uh, let’s see. Bret, Brad, Braden, Bradford, Brandon, Brendan, Eric, Eric, and Chuck. They go to different schools but they’re all in the same fraternity, isn’t that awesome?”
There seemed to be an awful lot of people around all of a sudden. Finn turned sideways on his chair to make room for one of the guys (he thought it was Chuck, but he wasn’t sure), and then Brandie ruffled his hair and someone handed him a red cup of something that looked like fruit punch but smelled like NyQuil and tasted like total ass, and just like that there was kind of a party going on.
He looked over at Kurt, who smiled, shrugged, and handed off his own cup to someone else after one taste, then turned to the guy next to him (one of the Erics, Finn thought) and started talking a mile a minute.
It was so loud that you pretty much had to yell to talk, but nevertheless Finn and the guy next to him (who was indeed Chuck, it turned out) managed to cover baseball, the World Cup, movies that had just come out, cars, and music. Chuck was nice, and also pretty funny, and really stayed on top of keeping the horrible punch coming. A lot of girls started showing up, and someone with a boom-box and a serious jones for R&B started some music rolling, and then a girl he’d never seen before actually sat down on his lap and took his drink out of his hand, gulping half of it before asking him what fraternity he was in. “Still in high school,” he managed, “but, uh, I’m pretty sure the guy next to me isn’t.” She gave him a dirty look, then kind of flowed seamlessly from his lap onto Chuck’s, who didn’t seem at all fazed by her sudden arrival but handed her another cup of punch and started casually stroking her legs while they got acquainted.
Right about that time, Finn decided he had a whole lot more reasons to go to college than he’d really been aware of. He decided to celebrate this discovery with more punch.
He kept an eye on Kurt, who was now talking with Brandie like they hadn’t seen each other for a whole year, and it occurred to him that staring at the two of them being all chummy and affectionate with each other while downing the world’s worst vodka punch was probably not the smartest move he’d ever made, but it was… nice. Really nice.
The girl who had deserted his lap for Chuck’s had gone to find Brad (keeper of the cooler, apparently), and he and Chuck moved on to basketball and LeBron and then football and Favre. His next full cup of punch made Finn decide that it really wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, but now Brandie and Kurt were whispering to each other and giggling and God, it was so hot today, even in the shade.
“I should go back in the pool,” he said to nobody in particular.
“Dude. No,” Chuck told him. “You’re too wasted.”
“I’m not wasted,” Finn insisted, staring at Chuck. Chuck had huge green eyes and long eyelashes and perfect skin and a totally ripped six-pack and… “Fuck. I’m totally wasted.”
“So,” Chuck said companionably, nodding over at Kurt. “You and him, huh?”
“Uh,” Finn looked over at Kurt, got lost for a moment, then snapped back to Chuck. “Yeah.”
“Mmm. He’s hot. Not as hot as you, though.”
“Oh.” Finn thought about that, because that meant something, only he had no idea what. “Huh?”
“Do you only top, or do you switch?”
Finn blinked. “I…” fuck, he was dizzy. “What?”
“Because if you’re into switching, I’d really like to--oh, hey, Kurt.”
“Oh my God, Finn--how much of that punch did you have?” Kurt was right there all of a sudden, cool hands on either side of his face, and it took everything he had not to just tilt forward and lay one on him, because God he was so, so pretty.
“I’m wasted,” Finn said with great deliberation, because honesty was important in a relationship.
“I can see that. Where’s your stuff? We need to go.”
“What? Why? Where are we going?” He honestly didn’t feel like he could go anywhere that required standing upright.
“We’re going wherever we can get you an entire vat of frozen coffee, and then you’re going to drink it until you’re sober, because if I bring you home drunk your Mom’s going to skin me, and then my Dad is going to hack off any parts she happens to leave intact.”
“But… I don’t want you to be skinned. I like your skin. Did you know you’re getting freckles?”
“Tragically, yes. But that’s not important right now. We need to get you--”
“I like them. They’re super-sexy. I want to lick them.”
“Oh, God--”
“Let me help,” Chuck said, and then the whole world went kind of swoopy and he was on his feet with one arm around Chuck’s warm, muscular shoulders.
“This is Chuck,” Finn slurred helpfully. “He has really nice abs.”
Kurt looked like he was thinking about panicking again, but he calmed down a little when Chuck started laughing.
The next few minutes were kind of a blur--he remembered kissing Brandie goodbye, and he thought he might have said something to her about wanting to take a nap in her cleavage, but she didn’t slap him or anything so he supposed it couldn’t have been that bad. Then Chuck helped him out to the parking lot, and got him maneuvered into the car while Kurt stowed all their stuff in the back. It was a huge relief to sit down again, but he had a whole lot of trouble figuring out how his seatbelt was supposed to work until Chuck leaned in and did it for him.
“Dude, thanks,” Finn said. “You’re such a nice guy.”
“Don’t let that rumor get started,” Chuck said, grinning. “You’ll totally trash my rep.”
“Seriously,” Kurt said from the driver’s seat. “Thank you.”
Chuck shrugged. “Least I could do. I think it’s kind of my fault he got so blitzed--I didn’t know he was such a lightweight. I was just trying to help him loosen up.”
“I’m not a lightway,” Finn mumbled. “And I’m loose. I can dance like Beyonce, you know. Kurt taught me.”
Chuck gave him one of those smiles that meant something only he had no idea what, then turned back to Kurt. “Take good care of him, okay?”
Finn looked back and forth between Kurt and Chuck, who seemed to be having some kind of conversation with no actual words in it, until Kurt nodded. “I will. Bye, Chuck.”
Kurt was turning down the aisle of cars that led to the driveway when Finn managed to flop his head over towards him. “Hey, Kurt?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s topping? What’s switching?”
Kurt almost drove them into a light pole.
Part 4 here