~ have you ever felt like you're starting to slide down the side of a hill to the bottom where you will lose your mind ~ so many contributing factors to hide ~ they never will find what's hidden inside ~
Wanting a thing you'd never had was one thing. It was easy to look at a thing you wanted – a piece of pizza, maybe, or the next weight ranking in lifting, or even a win at Nationals – and imagine what it would be like to be there, to set a goal, to figure a path toward that goal. But it was still limited to what your mind could guess at.
It was another thing entirely to not have a thing you'd once had, and to know exactly what it was you didn't have, and how much you wanted it. Especially when the thing you wanted walked right by you in the hall, sixteen times that day (he counted), and sat two or three desks over in five of your classes. Especially, god, especially when there were two of them, working as hard as you not to look, not to touch, not to desperately brush against you between chemistry tables and inspire an immediate, searing hard-on.
It wasn't as though he'd never dated anyone at school before. But he was used to the constant, low-level feedback he'd gotten from Quinn, from other girls he'd dated, who might walk up to him between classes, give him a smile, hold his hand, share a kiss. They were reminders, promises of things to come, even when those things were limited to sweaty groping over the sweater. They kept him going. It was enough.
But he'd had no way to anticipate the bewildering loss he felt at being cut off from the two boys who'd suddenly, over one short week, become the source of his deepest satisfaction. There were no looks of knowing – they were being careful. There were no quick clasps of hands, or comments filled with innuendo. There was simply coexistence, and safe avoidance, and absolutely no shared food, contact or communication.
He found himself wondering, anxiously, if maybe he'd just imagined the whole thing. In moments of sudden panic, it seemed entirely plausible that the blisteringly hot moments of three bodies touching, of three mouths connecting, of hands and cocks and firm limbs pressing, that those had simply been dreams.
And in those moments of anxiety, he would hesitantly glance at Kurt, diligently working on math on the other side of the aisle, hoping to see a secret smile, or a folded note snuck under his notebook, or even a flash of a tongue as he licked his lips. But Kurt was in his own space, busy, laughing with Mercedes and Tina. And Finn was not, had never been, privy to those friendly touches or intimate moments with him. It was ordinary.
It was even easier to imagine that the sessions of heat and control he'd had with Puck were simply the same fevered dreams of lust he'd had about him for weeks, and that their day to day interactions held no undercurrent of unresolved tension, no unexpressed desire. Unlike Kurt, Puck did talk with Finn, did joke, did bump fists and knock shoulders and touch his life in all the ways a best friend might do, and draw no attention. But there was no glimpse of the vulnerable part of Puck, the part he had hidden from Finn and everyone else, that had been uncovered only through extraordinary means and by the cooperative efforts of Kurt and Finn. He was his usual boisterous asshat self. This, too, was ordinary.
It was so much more lonely than Finn had expected.
He was mostly focusing on getting to American history when he nearly tripped over Puck, standing in the hallway outside a door marked Private. "First day in the new feet, Hudson?" Puck said casually, arms crossed, leaning on the doorframe.
"Something like that," muttered Finn, trying to smile.
"You might want to take a look inside," Puck said, gesturing vaguely at the door, looking down the hall. "Something you've been waiting for."
"Somethi – oh," he said, feeling a leaping inside, like something was trying to crawl out his throat, and swallowed. He glanced at the door.
"Before someone notices, dumbass," hissed Puck. He knocked on the door with one knuckle, then the door opened and Finn felt himself pulled inside.
"You've got five minutes, and then I'm coming in," Puck said quietly behind him, and Finn turned, felt the weight and heat of Puck's eyes on him, and it was like he'd been doused with a glass of alcohol. The shock of the memory, and god, he'd already forgotten, how could he have possibly –
The door closed. "It's been a long day," said a high, light voice, and Finn felt arms surround him from behind, stroking his chest, his stomach, and if Puck's glance was the alcohol, Kurt's hands were the match, setting him on fire. He closed his eyes to the mops and buckets and shelves of cleaning supplies and allowed himself to be touched by the sure, warm hands of this boy.
"The longest," he said, in a voice dripping with relief, and he wasn't too proud to turn and grab hold of Kurt and hold him close enough to feel his heart pounding against his chest, twin to his own.
"How are you holding up?" Kurt asked into his shirt. Finn stroked his hair, not caring that Kurt would need to walk out of there and continue with fifth period with messy hair, just needing to feel the sensation of Kurt's smooth, unbelievably soft hair in his fingers.
"Not… so good," he admitted shakily.
Kurt pulled back and looked up into Finn's face. In the dim light of the closet Finn could see the tiny line of worry between Kurt's perfectly shaped eyebrows, and his open mouth, and that was all, because Finn brought his mouth down to cover Kurt's, frantically needing to remember the feeling of that mouth on his. Kurt met his mouth with equal urgency, reaching up to twine his hands around Finn's neck. Finn held Kurt's face in his hands and met tongue with tongue, breath with breath.
"Baby," he said, and he couldn't say any more, just again: "baby."
"Yeah," said Kurt, "I'm here, I'm right here."
"I forgot," Finn said, moving his hands to hold his back, his hips, his ass. He lifted Kurt up in his arms, Kurt's legs wrapping around Finn's waist. He sat on Finn's crossed arms, Finn holding him up effortlessly against him. "I can't believe it, but – I forgot for a minute what you felt like. What this – what we –"
"Shh," said Kurt, kissing him. "You were doing what you needed to do. To get through it."
"God," he said, crushing Kurt to him, feeling the heat of his body through his t-shirt, and suddenly he needed more skin, more contact, needed to feel their arms and nipples and elbows and every part of them touching, or he was going to die.
He tried to pull Kurt's shirt out of his waistband, but Kurt stopped him, and Finn groaned. "Hang on, big guy," Kurt smiled, a little breathless, which seemed incongruous when Finn was the one holding him off the ground. "This is just a… a temporary measure. We have –" he checked his watch – "one hour and forty-three minutes until the end of the day. I'll meet you at Puck's house after school, and we can – finish this business, together."
"Yeah, okay," he said, kissing him again, and he knew Kurt could have asked Finn to skin himself alive with a fillet knife and he would have said Yeah, okay.
The door opened, casting a sudden glare on their entwined bodies, and Finn had a moment of panic before he saw Puck step in. He saw Puck stop in the doorway, lips parted, and take them in with one glance before the door closed and they were in darkness again.
"Uh," Finn said. Kurt slid down Finn's torso to the floor, making him grunt and see stars.
"Any room for me?" Puck said lightly into the dark, but he made no move to intervene.
Finn heard Kurt cross to Puck and take his hand, leading him across the short distance to stand before Finn. Finn could see the outline of Puck's scalp, the sneer on his face, the flickering glance to Kurt.
"Kiss him," said Kurt, and Finn couldn't swear to whom the command was given, but Puck stepped forward into Finn's personal space, that he'd protected and held sacred all day, but that now was coming down like a landslide. They made deep, gasping noises in their throats as their mouths came together and Puck was devouring him; there was no way he'd come out of this alive.
"Yeah," said Kurt, satisfied, one hand touching each of them, lightly, not directing.
"Puck – " Finn said.
Puck growled, "You call me baby and I'll kick your ass." He held their hips together, grinding against Finn's cock, until Finn was muffling his noises in Puck's neck.
"Slow down," said Kurt, and Puck immediately cut the pace in half, which was somehow both filthier and sweeter for all that. "You've got to sit through two more classes. I don't think you want to do it in sticky underwear."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hummel," said Puck.
"Hey, slushies aren't the only reason I've got a change of clothes in my locker, you know," he teased, "but I don't think your ass would fit in my skinny jeans."
Picturing Puck wearing Kurt's clothes was more of a turn-on than Finn would have ever expected, but probably linoleum would have been a turn-on in this moment. He grabbed Puck and kissed him again, holding him up against the door, feeling Puck's big hands and thick arms around him, squeezing the air out of his chest, his surprisingly light touch fluttering down his spine to stroke his ass. Finn bucked once up against Puck, then let go and backed off, breathing hard.
"Seems like I'm not the only one who wants to get into your jeans, Kurt," Puck said, and his voice was about a half an octave lower than usual. Finn shivered at the mental picture.
"I think it was your ass we were talking about," Kurt said. Finn laughed.
"Hey, I've got two hands," Finn said, and wrapped one of each of them around an ass in question and squeezed. He heard Kurt take a hitching breath and Puck swear, and he smiled to himself.
"I think we may need to do this every day," he said, seriously. "I was starting to wonder – well, if you really –"
"It'll be okay, Finn," said Kurt. "It just takes time to adjust. It'll get easier."
Finn nodded, even though they couldn't really see him. "I guess you've done this before."
"Um, no," said Kurt. "Shocking, but it's my first time in the janitor's closet with two hot guys."
"Three hot guys," said Puck, and Finn heard him kiss Kurt. There was a silence, the sound of breath, and wet noises. Finn squirmed, adjusting himself, absorbing the sounds of Kurt and Puck and knowing they would recur in his dreams.
"Okay," Puck said. "Tomorrow, after fourth period, here."
"It's a date," said Kurt, and Finn agreed. "And after school today – we'll all meet separately at your house after football practice, Noah?"
"I'll be waiting," Puck said. He opened the door and slipped out first without another word, leaving Kurt and Finn in the dark.
Kurt reached out for his hand, and Finn took it. They fit together perfectly, Finn's large hand and Kurt's slim one. Finn pulled Kurt's head close to his, pressing their foreheads together.
"I love you," he said fiercely. "I won't be able to say it for the rest of the day, but I need you to know it."
"I do," murmured Kurt. "And I love you, Finn, even if you never hear it from my lips again."
"God, don't even say that, Kurt," he gasped, and Kurt held him tightly. They let one another go, straightening up (Finn laughed a little to himself), then took a breath, opened the door, and put his head out. No one was around.
He took the first stride to fifth period, to which he was late as usual, but he stepped taller and felt the knot of worry ease in his chest. Kurt, he thought happily. Puck.