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It's probably the most awkward conversation that Blaine and Kurt have had since breaking up.
It isn't about how Kurt had been a pretty crappy boyfriend after he'd moved to New York. It isn't about how Blaine had cheated on Kurt. It isn't about betrayal or trust or love or soulmates or anything like that.
It's about Sam, and about how he and Blaine have tried to become more than friends, and about how it hasn't worked because--
"He's a sub, too, and it just--it's not--"
"Oh, honey," Kurt says, trying to interpret Blaine's tone over the phone and only partially succeeding. "Are you sure it's not because he's maybe not...?"
"I don't know," Blaine answers, sighing. "I asked him. We had to drink a few beers before he was even able to have the conversation, and half of it was done through impressions even then, but he swears that he's--interested, in that way. I just--don't know if maybe he's lying to himself?" He pauses, and the silence is heavy. "Kurt. I know that this is probably the most awkward request ever. But--the next time you come home, do you think you might be up to...giving us a hand? We're both just kind of floundering and--it's been so long for me, too, I could--I would really--appreciate your help."
Kurt's flushes hot at the thought. What Blaine doesn't know is that it's been just as long without for him, just as long with no beautiful, desperate eyes gazing up at him from a kneeling position. Just as long without a gasping sub touching him with reverent fingers. Just as long without the creak of supple leather under his hands, without the soft cries that come from a bound sub's lips after he carefully applies pain.
That's not what Blaine needs to hear, though, nothing that they can share, not now, not after hurting each other so badly, not now that they're just friends.
But this is the perfect transition. He can step in to help them without jealousy, he can prove to Blaine that they can be there for each other.
This could be a very good thing.
Or a disaster. He thinks about watching Blaine and Sam together and--
Fuck, he'd thought he was over this.
And yet, despite all that, he still finds himself agreeing to Blaine's request.
*
Once he's with them it's easier. He's always been that way. Talking about it at a distance makes him fidget. Planning scenes makes him just as excited as it does nervous. Buying special toys or restraints sometimes puts him on edge.
But once he's there, once he has the sub in his personal space and can see the shy, needy spark in their eyes, once he can gauge their personality or watch them move around him, it always clicks into place, and it happens so easily; he finds the place within his chest where his strength resides.
It helps that since he's moved to New York both Blaine and Sam have come into their submissive maturity completely; before, Kurt hadn't even really noticed Sam much beyond their initial, awkward meeting, and play with Blaine had been more about how deeply in love with each other they were than about Blaine's needs as a sub.
So when he's with them again, they're both more or less grown men, grown subs, and they're twitching with unresolved tension. Kurt can hardly breathe around the way they laugh nervously, touch nervously, fumble in an untrained way with each other.
They're so adrift, and every inch of Kurt's dominant soul wants to guide them. It's the one thing that he needs to feel before doing this kind of thing, and now that he knows he can see them that way, it becomes remarkably simple.
*
They talk about it only once they're alone. No one has any clue what they are about to get up to, and Kurt wants to keep it that way.
The first thing that Sam does is offer to get them drinks (he'd brought a six pack with him earlier), and Kurt shuts the refrigerator door behind him and tells him to have a seat at the kitchen table.
"First rule: if we're going to do this, we do it sober," he says, catching both of their gazes in turn. "Secondly, I need to know how involved you want me to be," he goes on.
They're sitting side by side at the kitchen table. Blaine's right hand is resting lightly on Sam's leg, and Sam has his arm around the back of Blaine's chair.
Kurt focuses. He refuses to allow his personal feelings for Blaine to come into play. Blaine had asked him for his help, not his emotional overspill.
"If it's all the same, man, I think--I think for now if you could just--" Sam struggles, and Blaine gives him a soft smile, squeezing his knee.
"Verbal, for now, if that's okay, Kurt?"
Thank god one of them did some research.
Kurt nods. "More than okay. This is for you, not me, alright?" He takes a breath. "We've got the house to ourselves, so let's get you guys comfortable. Living room alright?" The bedroom is often the wrong first step; too intimate, too many sexual implications with a bed right there.
They're both such nervous messes. Kurt talks to them for a while, getting an idea of their preferences, what sort of toys they like if any, what kinds of activities they want to work up to, what they've done together so far. He wants a clear picture of their experience and expectations before he starts giving them commands.
He learns that they've kept it simple, making out and handjobs and restraint with no objects, just hands and bodies. They seem comfortable getting off rubbing against each other while one of them holds the other down and that's good; that's safe, and simple, and lets Kurt know that at least they've been trying, and that they haven't crossed any boundaries that they hadn't wanted to cross. If they'd damaged each other--Kurt isn't sure that his experience would've qualified him to help them.
The more they talk, the easier it is for Kurt to not see Blaine in terms of their history. He's not sure whether he likes the disassociated feeling or hates it, but at least it'll allow him to do them some good. This has nothing to do with his own personal satisfaction.
That isn't to say that he isn't effected when they actually begin.
He instructs Blaine to take off Sam's shirt and Sam to take off Blaine's. He tells them how to touch each other, soft, innocent touches that are as far from sexual as they can be (with people as attractive as Sam and Blaine involved, it's never going to be entirely de-sexed). They explore each other's arms and chests and necks and faces.
Kurt begins simply, "kiss Sam's right earlobe", "touch Blaine's left nipple with your mouth", and on and on. They need the commands, and that's the key to the lessening of the tension; each time they do something because Kurt told them to, a little more of that uncomfortable distance ebbs, until they're both flushed and breathing heavily.
Kurt shifts carefully on the couch, hiding his own growing interest in the proceedings. He's only human and it's been a long time, but he doesn't want them to notice.
Blaine glances over at Kurt at some point during the middle of all of this heavy petting, Sam's face buried in his neck. His eyes are wide and glassy, pupils blown, mouth dropped open in a soft pant, and Kurt--
Kurt swallows. Tries so very hard to not allow his facial expression to change.
Blaine scratches a hand down Sams wide, muscled back, never taking his eyes off of Kurt. He shifts forward a little in Sam's lap, pressing their bodies together.
"Undo your pants," Kurt says, eyes boring into Blaine's.
Blaine doesn't move at first, so Sam does it for him, and Kurt's pulse stutters.
"No," he says, firmly, instantly. "That isn't what I asked. Do them back up."
Sam does, eyes wide and hands shaking.
"Undo your pants, Blaine," Kurt repeats. "Please don't make me repeat myself." He isn't here to dole out punishment and reward but he does expect to be obeyed within the space that they have asked him to fill.
"Yes, sir," Blaine says, finding his voice.
Kurt's body purrs with satisfaction. "Good boy."
Blaine--face blazing red now--undoes his pants. Kurt knows that look. He knows the shade of red at Blaine's cheek, he knows the way that Blaine's fingers tremble when he's beginning to let go, it's so obvious, and--
Fuck. Fuck, he needs to stop.
"Put your hands behind your back, Blaine, at the wrist. Keep them there." He waits. "Take him out of his jeans and stroke him, Sam. Get him hard, but take your time. Do it at your own pace, the way you like to touch him."
He keeps his voice even, but his pulse is slamming at his throat. He can't take his eyes off of Sam's pale, strong hand around Blaine's cock. It's a beautiful image, and it's been so long since he's seen Blaine hard and panting for a touch.
He's beautiful. Kurt would have to be dead to not notice.
He wets his mouth idly and listens to Blaine breathe louder and heavier until he's hard as a rock in Sam's fist; he wants to move his hips but he's being obedient and waiting for the command, Kurt can tell. God, he's so perfect when it comes to waiting.
"You can kiss. But don't stroke any faster."
They kiss, and Kurt's face flushes hotter. A unique combination of lust and jealousy rises in him, sharp as a knife. Fuck, he doesn't even know how he feels about this.
Sam surges forward, pushing his tongue into Blaine's mouth and Blaine whines softly, meeting him halfway. His arms strain against his sides as he supresses the urge to move them from where they're crossed behind his back. His jeans gape open over his crotch. At length, he breaks the kiss for a breath and Sam leans back on his heels.
They're staring at each other fondly.
Kurt will not frown, will not will not.
"Would you like to suck him, Sam?" Kurt asks.
Sam flushes, eyes down. "I'm--I've never done it."
"Would you like to?"
"I'm cool with trying, yeah." He's still looking down at his lap, and that drives Kurt crazy.
"Eyes up." It's a simple, standard command; a dom shouldn't have to ask more than once for a sub's eye contact, and the fact that he's had to ask several times now is displeasing to him. But Sam isn't his sub, and he really only has so much room to wiggle, here.
Sam looks at him. It's obvious to Kurt that Sam has performance issues as well as embarrassment that he hasn't even begun to shed, and that would be okay if it weren't such a roadblock to Blaine's pleasure.
He feels that the real issue here is that Blaine is a lot farther along than Sam in terms of understanding his own sexual desires and his submissive nature, and no matter how smooth Kurt's commands and encouragement Blaine is always going to be a few steps ahead. It's not up to Kurt to get them on the same page; only they can do that.
"Lie on your stomach in front of him and kiss his cock, wherever you would like to. No tongue yet," Kurt says.
Blaine whimpers before it even begins. The head of his cock is shining with pre-come.
Fuck.
Kurt swallows and sits up higher on the couch.
Sam's plump mouth is a sight to behold as it drops kisses up and down Blaine's length. He seems fairly confident now that he's down there, at least, eyes drifting open and shut with every pass. When he reaches the tip he hesitates, then kisses it, and Blaine--
Sobs, twisting as his body rebels against the clasp of his arms and the stillness of his hips.
"Sam," he moans.
Kurt's blood surges again, and he urges it down angrily. "Take the tip into your mouth." Sam does, and this time he obeys and it is all he does. "Suck it softly. Let your tongue tease the slit. Taste him. Let the taste spread over your tongue. Don't be afraid of it." Kurt's voice goes a bit gravely at the end, there, and Blaine glances up at him.
Their eyes meet and Kurt's dick throbs in his designer slacks.
"Harder," Kurt breathes.
Blaine's eyes screw shut when Sam bears down. "Oh."
"Take him a little deeper, but slowly. Don't go any farther than you're comfortable with. Lips over your teeth and just--good, just like that. Hollow your cheeks. Suck. Off, and again."
Blaine begins to spit noises continuously now, his face screwed up with pleasure.
The worse part is, Kurt knows exactly what Blaine likes.
The best part is, Kurt knows exactly what Blaine likes.
"Are you comfortable with not using your hand?" he asks Sam.
"If--if he can--move, I think so, yeah."
"Good," Kurt praises. "Let him fuck your mouth a little." Kurt knows it will take much, much longer with just mouths, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. "Blaine, you can move to do that."
"Thank you, sir," Blaine breathes, and it's so fucking genuine that Kurt's heart skips a beat.
He says nothing for the next few minutes. There's no need; Blaine knows what he likes and he doesn't hesitate to take what Kurt has given him permission to take. His hips rock in fast, short thrusts that don't drive him very far into Sam's mouth, but friction is friction and he seems to be enjoying himself.
Sam has caught on and tightens the purse of his mouth accordingly, and Kurt can tell that he's using his tongue to great effect.
"I--" Blaine gasps, stopping after several minutes. "May I stop, please?"
"Why?" Kurt asks.
"I'm close."
"You may." Kurt smiles. "Keep licking him, Sam." Sam does--whether it's because he wants to or is getting better at listening, Kurt isn't sure.
"Oh," Blaine whimpers.
"Get your tongue inside his slit," Kurt breathes. He likes that, he doesn't say. "Keep sucking the head."
"Oh."
He watches, cheeks on fire, as Blaine struggles to hold back. God, it's fucking gorgeous to observe.
Blaine looks at him again, eyes begging. If he comes without permission Kurt will be furious and they both know it. Memories of punishments past dance behind Blaine's eyes, and Kurt sees a mixture of anticipation and dread there because Blaine wants to be good, he wants to not deserve a punishment, but the punishments were so often incredible and they both recall that.
Blaine's jaw drops. Sam is wetly, enthusiastically continuing. "P-please." Blaine inhales sharply, growing desperate. His fingers are curled into fists. His chest is hitching unevenly. "Please." And then, when no verbalization comes, when Kurt is silent, he sobs, breaking, "Kurt!"
And something inside of Kurt's chest fractures.
"Stop, Sam."
Sam stops.
Holy fucking god, he'd forgotten what this felt like. What Blaine had felt like. How he used to beg.
At this point Kurt had always made the decision, based off of Blaine's mood, to either let him come or make him wait. There were times when he appreciated the delay and others when it had simply irritated him. It's been a while and they aren't the same people they were, but Kurt would like to think that he can still make the right choice.
"Blaine, I want you to do the same to Sam. Stop before he comes."
"God, yes. Yes, sir," Blaine breathes, and Kurt burns with the knowledge that he'd picked correctly.
He'd underestimated the effect that watching Blaine suck another boy's cock would have on him. The surge of aroused jealousy from before returns tenfold, more so now because Blaine so obviously adores cock, is familiar with it, craves it in ways that Sam probably has not experienced consciously until he met Blaine.
His mouth and tongue is hungry even executing simple kisses, and hungrier still when he sucks Sam's cock head, when he tongues Sam's slit, when he takes Sam's considerable girth into his mouth, and when he bobs backwards and forwards, hands still folded behind his back.
Sam gets there a lot faster than Blaine had, his pale hair fallen and sweaty around his face, the impressive muscles of his stomach and chest quivering.
"Babe," he breathes, shuddering.
"Blaine, stop," Kurt says.
"I need a minute," Sam says into the silence, sounding off balance, which sends all of Kurt's red flags up.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"This is--intense. I feel like I'm kind of--stuck in the middle, here, guys."
Shit.
Blaine stares at Sam, frowning. "If you're uncomfortable, honey, we'll stop. It's okay."
Sam stares back, looking hurt. "I'm never gonna be enough for you. And not because of--he's the perfect fucking dom and you still--I know you still love him, okay? I just--I thought this would be easy, getting off to commands or whatever, but it's not, it's--not for me."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Kurt watches them silently. He can't do anything about this.
Blaine's eyes fill with tears. "I asked him to help us because I want this to work."
"You want it to work because we love each other and we're both available," Sam replies, sounding as sure as he is sad. "You guys broke up and I had your back. Brit left me and you had mine. I get that, okay? You're awesome, and I'm, like, not as straight as I thought I was, and I totally get off on how into me you are, but this is--both of us being subs--it's just not going to work, man."
Regardless of the level of his own personal investment, Kurt has to stop this for what it's become--a crossing of a boundary that a sub is not comfortable with.
"Let's end this, okay, guys?" he says, keeping his voice soft and even. "You're free to move, to dress, to talk, to leave, whatever you'd like to do." He stands, giving them implicit permission to stand, too. "I'll be upstairs in my room if either of you want to talk to me, but I won't expect it."
He nods and smiles at them both, waits for them to nod back, and when he has half a house and a door between them, he pushes out a difficult breath and closes his eyes.
That had been intense, in both good and bad ways, and he can't help it; he sits down on the bed in the guest room and shakes.
He doesn't expect either of them to want to see him again so soon, and so he is surprised when the knock comes at the door.
"It's me," Blaine says from the opposite side.
"Come in," Kurt calls.
The worst part of it is that it isn't awkward at all. Does that mean that Kurt cares too much, or not enough? Is he "over it" or still so deep "in it" that he can't tell the difference anymore? He hates not being able to figure out how he really feels.
"I'm sorry," he says. "God, Blaine, I'm so sorry if I messed things up between you and Sam."
"May I kneel?" comes the uneven, breathless request.
"Of course." The scene is over, but Kurt knows that Blaine is compulsive about asking for permission even outside of them.
He kneels, choosing the floor by the side of the bed. "We've been fumbling with each other for weeks now." He sighs. "I just--god, I wanted it to be something, Kurt, I guess--I was stupid to think that it would be as easy as having someone tell us what to do."
It hurts; it hurts to hear how much Blaine had wanted it, but Kurt had just had an identical conversation with Adam not a month ago, so how is he in any position to judge?
"I'm sorry, sweetie," Kurt says, frowning. And he really is.
"Was it--was it the same, when you and Adam...?"
Kurt swallows. "Adam was a sub, actually. But it--I never--it just didn't work out."
"Oh," Blaine breathes. "From the way you described things, I just assumed he was a dom."
How he'd recruited Kurt, pursued Kurt, complimented Kurt; it makes sense, Kurt supposes. But then it's a very common misconception that subs are meek in every day life. Adam had been an absolute firecracker, but he'd still been a sub in the privacy of their scenes. It had just never clicked for Kurt, neither the time spent in the bedroom nor the time spent elsewhere.
Silence falls and they stare at each other for a moment. Blaine looks away first. His lips quirk into a smile that is almost a smirk. "You've, um. You've still got it, I'll say that."
Kurt's pulse skips a beat. "Thanks, I think."
Blaine looks up, catching his gaze again. His eyes go soft as he says, "No one has ever made me feel the way you do."
"You know I feel the same," Kurt says, though about what in particular he isn't sure: their scenes or their sex life or their relationship or their friendship or their love?
The answer to all of those caveats would be the same. That's what terrifies him.
"Have you forgiven me, Kurt?"
"Blaine. You're compromised right now. We just broke a scene. A scene that failed. You and Sam--we shouldn't talk about anything serious right now."
"I need to know."
Kurt exhales, eyelids fluttering shut. He doesn't want to cry but he is so close to falling apart. This entire day has been a trial; playing dom for two confused subs isn't something that he has ever done before.
"Of course I have," he breathes, throat closing up. "I was a part of our problems, Blaine."
"I forgave you that," Blaine says. "I owed it to you then, and it was a drop in the bucket compared to what I did to us."
"Maybe you wouldn't've done what you did if I hadn't been a shitty boyfriend, Blaine," Kurt says, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. "Did you ever think of that?"
"You really have forgiven me, haven't you?"
"Yes," Kurt spits, bristling. This is all too much. He just wants to be done with this conversation. He feels cornered and wants to shut down and he's mad that Blaine won't let him.
Blaine climbs up onto the bed and crawls to Kurt's side, reaching for his hands. He jerks away.
"Stop it," Blaine says, softly. "I know. I know, but let me, okay?" They've been here so many times; Kurt trying to withdraw and Blaine giving him a safe place to just be without allowing him to fully retreat. It has nothing to do with their dom/sub dynamic; it's just them.
Kurt goes still, and allows Blaine to hold his shaking hands. "This is too much."
"I know. I know, Kurt. It scares me, too. It was easier when I wasn't sure whether we were going to speak again, much less forgive each other, much less let each other in again."
"That's all I can--that's it for right now, Blaine, okay? I'm not ready--I can't--"
Blaine smiles, that beautiful glowing beam that Kurt has come to associate with every single good thing there is to be had in this world and says, soft and sure, "Okay."