Title: (Don't) Put A Ring On It
Summary: Finn is getting married and Kurt is the best man. But Kurt wants to kiss the
A/N: Thanks go to rebness for beta-ing this! Also, check out the final chapter of mothergoddamn 's twin story here.
Previous: Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Kurt arrived in Lima at half past 4 in the afternoon on the 19th of March, after spending two days with far too many thoughts and far too little sleep. His complexion was shot to hell.
He had booked a hotel room, because there was no way he was sleeping in the same house as Finn on the night before his wedding. Especially since… yeah, since that had happened.
Finn had accepted his decision without saying anything. Of course, their parents had been baffled, but Kurt had solved the problem by convincing his father that in New York etiquette it was considered bad luck for the best man to have any contact with the groom before the wedding.
The hotel was the best to be had in Lima, which meant it was still pretty lame. He went up to the so-called ‘suite’, which turned out to be really a spacious bedroom with a couch and a table in one corner, and unpacked his things just to have something to do.
Thankfully, he had picked out his outfit more than a month ago (in fact, only a week after Finn had asked him to be the best man) because nowadays he was too distracted to focus on fashion. As things stood, though, the outfit was impeccable, and sure to be far more glamorous than anything anyone else would wear. True, it would have been good etiquette not to try and outshine the bride, but he was a guy, so he was counting himself out of that rule, and if he looked stunning, well, too bad so sad.
In spite of that small consolation, though, Kurt found himself absolutely restless. As agitated as he’d been these past few days, he had had no idea that sitting here and waiting would be the worst part.
He got dressed, then undressed, then dressed again.
He coiffed his hair in four different styles, using so much hairspray he had to take two showers in between, just to make sure he didn’t burst into flames when passing someone with a lit cigarette.
He sat on the bed, he got up, he paced.
He sat down again and called room service, ordering a crazily elaborate salad that he wasn’t sure even existed. It didn’t. He told them to make it express and put it on the bill, just to be a bitch. When they finally took it up to his room he didn’t eat it. His stomach was closed.
At 6.32 in the evening, he finally broke down.
He picked up the phone and dialled Burt and Carole’s number. He was going to give Finn his sincerest apologies and his deepest contrition, but he would have to find himself another best man, because Kurt just couldn’t. No way was he going to be able to stand there by Finn’s side and watch as Quinn walked down the aisle, radiant as always. No damn way could he smile in fond approval as the man he loved – the man he had loved since he was a boy – tied himself to someone for life. Not when the feeling of their lips pressed together was so vivid in his mind. It was more than anyone should be forced to bear.
One ring, two. It was Carole who answered.
“Carole. It’s, um, it’s Kurt. Is Finn in?”
“Kurt, sweetie! Hi! It’s so nice to hear your voice. But wait, I thought that you being in touch with the groom was bad luck?”
“No, no, no, it’s bad luck for me to see the groom. For me to talk to the groom is very, very good luck.”
“But Burt said…”
“Carole, please, trust me on this. I’ve taken classes about it. Now can I please speak to Finn?”
“I’m sorry, honey, but Finn just left a few minutes ago… he went over to Quinn’s so they can practice their vows together. I don’t know when he’s coming back, probably he’ll have dinner over there or something?”
Kurt’s heart sank. He knew he wouldn’t have the courage to call a second time. He would just have to go through with this; it was the right thing to do anyway. He just wished that idiot Finn hadn’t made it so damned hard.
“Thank you, Carole,” he said, forcing a weak smile into his voice. “I’ll just have to remind him tomorrow how to, ah, coordinate his cufflinks with his tie. Have a good night now! I’ll see you in church.”
He hung up and slumped down on the bed, running tired hands over his face. As he was trying to gather his thoughts, a knock came on the door. He figured the hotel staff had decided to make him pay for his $70 dollar salad right away.
He went to answer it distractedly, rifling through his backpack in search of his wallet; he found it quickly enough, then dropped his bag altogether when, looking up, he was faced with Finn Hudson.
Before he could even react in surprise, his eyes zeroed in on the man’s face: he had a black eye, a cut on his bottom lip and a strangely-shaped bruise on his cheekbone.
“Hiya.” Finn quirked a corner of his lips, not really a smile, but not looking too afflicted either.
“Did Puck impregnate Quinn again?”, were the first words Kurt’s stunned brain could think to ask.
Finn huffed through his nose, but the sound was amused.
“No. Only got myself to blame, this time. Mind if I come in?”
“Finn, we can’t--”
“Actually I sort of wanted to raid the mini-bar,” Finn contradicted, and Kurt could sorta understand how someone in those conditions might want a drink, so he let him in.
He watched for a moment, almost transfixed, as Finn examined the contents of the mini-bar and almost immediately picked – what an insult to tasteful mini-bars everywhere – a can of beer. Meanwhile he got a good look at the bruise on Finn’s cheek. When he realised it was exactly the shape of an average-sized engagement ring, his heart shot up in his throat for a moment before sinking lower than it had before.
Kurt knew what had happened of course, but still he waited for Finn to say it; Kurt knew he would, because Finn just had to get things like these off his chest. It took about 20 seconds and 3 sips of beer.
“I told Quinn.”
Kurt closed his eyes, cringing.
“She, um. She wasn’t real happy about it.”
“I never knew you majored in understatement.”
There was a second of uncomfortable silence, then Kurt sighed. “ I guess she’s not quite as understanding as I thought. Do you think she’s gonna make you pay for it for the rest of your married life?”
Finn looked at him like he was stupid, which was a completely alien experience in and of itself.
“Dude, we’re not getting married.”
“You’re not—but—she left you? For what, for experimenting? For… for cheating? That’s not exactly breaking news for the two of you, is it?” Kurt grappled with the surrealism of the situation and his own guilt, refusing to acknowledge just what a lost battle it was.
And Finn was giving him that irritating look again, scrutinizing him carefully, putting him on edge. “Kurt, what exactly do you think I told her?” he asked, curiously.
“That you… that you kissed a guy. Well, two guys, but… I hope you haven’t actually told her it was me. She’ll think I came after you. Although actually, that would probably be the best thing to salvage the situation, wouldn’t it?” Kurt chuckled, slightly bitter.
Finn sighed, looking away. He didn’t like it when Kurt spoke that way, Kurt knew that; it reminded him of a time way back, when there had been name-calling and dumpster-tossing, and he still felt guilty about all that. Good, Kurt thought, feeling peculiarly unmerciful right now.
The tall man was playing with the empty can of beer, pensive, the little crease between his eyebrows indicating he was troubled by something; then it smoothed out as he crushed the can and looked back up, his eyes clear and guileless, boyish.
“I told her I was in love with someone else,” he said.
All of the air in Kurt’s lungs seemed to rush out at once, leaving him dizzy. He didn’t.
“I’m sorry I told her it was you, I guess. But it doesn’t really matter who it is, does it? You don’t get married if you’re in love with somebody else. Pretty simple.”
That idiot. That utter, dumb idiot. Who did something as stupid as that? Just Finn. Possibly a particularly slow and half-lethargic moose, but mostly only Finn.
“I know you told me no,” said Finn, ploughing on relentlessly. “I know that. And I’m not expecting you to change your mind. But this isn’t about you, it’s about me. I can’t lie to Quinn like that. Being married to someone is supposed to be for real, so I can’t marry her. Right now I can’t marry anyone.”
Kurt swallowed, and he figured he should probably say something, except he couldn’t speak. Actually, he felt like he might very well never speak again. He just stared at Finn, dumbstruck, hardly breathing.
But Finn seemed to be done with his big speech, loosely clasping his hands together between his knees, the solemnity seeping out of his face as he quirked as a rueful smile. “Still, Quinn kicked me out and I don’t really wanna go home, because then I’d have to explain to Mom and Burt how I single-handedly screwed up everything, so… can I crash here for the night? You got a couch in here, after all.”
Kurt blinked, for the first time allowing the situation to really sink in past the absurdity of it all. He didn’t have to go to the wedding; there would be no wedding. Because Finn had called it off. Because he’d rather spend the night in a mediocrely decorated hotel room, with him. He licked his lips. His heart seemed to have only just remembered how to beat, and was doing so at an amazing speed.
“Yeah. Yeah, you can… you can crash here.”
He sat on the bed next to Finn, resting his hands on the covers, allowing their fingers to brush when Finn did the same.
“Man. This time I really screwed up, huh?” the voice was earnest.
A small smile. “Yes, Finn. I believe this is what one would refer to as a screw-up of epic proportions.”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t regret it. And I still haven’t given up hope that I could get something out of this in the end.”
Kurt could feel Finn’s eyes on him even without looking his way. It felt like every single cell in his body was tired of resisting, so he didn’t; he leaned his body into the solid warmth beside him and allowed his tense muscles to relax.
“Maybe you will,” he murmured. “But still, Finn Hudson, it’s pretty foolhardy to ruin your own wedding just to get a one-night-stand…” he added, glancing sideways, because even though he might hope, he couldn’t let himself believe Finn’s words. Not yet, at least.
Finn looked at him warmly, leaving him with no doubt that his careful decoy had been seen clear through; but he seemed to be giving Kurt a free pass, because he just grinned and said, “Well, then… you better make it a damn good one.”
The bed in the room was only a queen-size, but it looked comfortable. As Kurt pulled the covers back neatly, his stomach fluttered the whole time. He couldn’t believe this was happening, actually happening. In truth, he had fantasized about it so many times he had absolutely no idea what to expect.
He looked over to where Finn was standing with that quirky smile of his, awkward and tall and handsome and real, and he couldn’t help the smile spreading on his own face. He patted the bedcovers one last time, then walked over to Finn. They came together easily, like Finn was oxygen and Kurt had spent the last three days underwater.
Finn licked into his mouth hungrily, until Kurt needed to catch his breath, then moved on to pepper the side of his face with quick, soft kisses that somehow managed to leave Kurt breathless all over again. His hands wandered to Kurt’s jacket.
“Is this the kind of suit that costs more than my Xbox? Because then you should probably get it off yourself…”
Kurt chuckled. “Yes, Finn. It is that kind of suit.” He gently pushed Finn away, shrugging out of his jacket, then swiftly undoing the tiny shirt buttons, folding both items neatly. His hands paused at his belt, questioning, unsure.
“Off. Just… just take all of it off.” Finn’s voice was a husky, raspy murmur, his eyes shamelessly taking in every inch of naked skin as soon as it got uncovered, sending a zinging shiver down Kurt’s spine.
He stepped out of the trousers and walked back to Finn in his boxers, a predatory gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there in a good, long while. “Now you,” he commanded, catching hold of Finn’s sweater and the hem of his t-shirt at the same time and pulling upwards, watching the play of muscle as Finn raised his arms and bent his back to go along with it. Then he threw the garments to the floor (they were Finn’s, so he didn’t care) and sat back on the bed to watch as Finn shed the jeans.
Finn joined him on the bed a second later, his own underwear already considerably tented, entailing an answering twitch in Kurt’s. They leaned back against the pillows, kissing, eager and messy, Kurt straddling Finn’s thighs gracefully as Finn ran his hands over his back hungrily, dipping down every now and then to squeeze his butt with what was clearly a whole lot of approval.
“Do you have… stuff?”
“…wha?” Kurt asked distractedly, preoccupied with nibbling on Finn’s earlobe.
“Ahh, that’s… oh, hell…!” Finn closed his eyes in bliss. “I mean, you know… if you have any stuff.”
Kurt broke it off, baffled. “Yes, Finn, I have ample amounts of ‘stuff’. A suitcase, three pairs of trousers, a McQueen foulard…”
“Dude, no. I mean like, sex stuff.” Finn clarified, a little flushed, and it should have been ridiculous and dorky, but all it did was turn Kurt on stupidly.
“Oh. Ah… yes, I… I don’t even know why I brought it actually. God knows I wasn’t expecting to use it, but—I usually keep lube stacked together with my other toiletries…” he explained, a little bashfully. “Don’t have any, um, condoms though…” he realized on the spot—and God, if they had to go out and buy them he might just end up assaulting Finn smack in the middle of Walmart—but Finn reached over to the nightstand, where he’d dropped his jeans, and pulled two condoms of out of the back pocket.
Kurt cocked an eyebrow at him. “You have condoms on you.”
“You came here with condoms. That’s an awful lot of confidence right there, Hudson.”
Finn smiled sheepishly.
“I should change my mind just to make you pay for that little stunt.”
“C’mon, dude, get off my case! It’s just that when I really want something, I don’t give up easy. And I wanted this a whole bunch.”
“Oh, well now that changes everything: you wanted me ‘a whole bunch’. What are you, sixteen?” and this was the point where Kurt would have worked himself up in a proper diva fit, if his silly, treacherous face hadn’t softened of its own accord, a rush of fondness tugging his lips into a smile. And Finn saw right through it, the bastard, and grinned unrepentantly, looking like a proud puppy.
“Oh, all right, you smug douchebag.”
“Cool,” cheered Finn with an ear-splitting grin, then his face scrunched up in concentration. “So are you, um, an above or a below?”
Kurt blinked, only managing to make sense of the question with the help of context and a good deal of imagination. He sighed in defeat.
“Finn, promise me never to try and study gay culture by yourself again.”
Finn nodded fervently.
“Good. And to answer your rather awkward question, I’m usually a bottom.”
Finn nodded, arching up to peck Kurt’s lips before turning them over, so that he was kneeling between Kurt’s legs.
Kurt fidgeted a little, looking up at Finn past the wisps of hair falling in his eyes.
“Um, you should probably know… it’s been a while since…” he trailed off, embarrassed.
“Oh, that.” Finn nodded, understandingly. Then out of sheer curiosity, he added: “How long?”
Kurt sighed a little. “Since Blaine, actually.”
And damn, it sounded depressing when he said it out loud, but it was true. Actually sex was kind of what had led him the two of them to fall apart, because even if Blaine was sweet and caring and a perfect gentleman, something just didn’t work there. Maybe because Blaine thought Kurt was as sexy as a stuffed animal, or maybe because Kurt had done such a spectacular job of getting over Finn.
He cleared his voice: “I mean first there was him, and then… there weren’t really a lot of people I trusted with, so…”
“It’s cool,” Finn promised. “And besides I’ve never actually slept with a guy, so you still totally have the advantage here. Oh, and Kurt…?”
“Thank you. For, you know. For trusting me with this.”
Kurt smiled softly at his earnestness, and wondered how he’d ever thought of saying no in the first place.
He slung an arm around Finn’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss, then murmured: “Go get that lube, now. And don’t drop my Yves Saint-Laurent perfume.”
Finn laughed, the sound young and carefree, as he got up and headed to the bathroom, making sure to lose his underwear on the way. Kurt had just finished doing the same when he came back, lube bottle held triumphantly in one hand. “No broken stuff.”
“Yes, yes, I get the point, you’re a major-league champ. Now get back here,” Kurt cooed, spreading his knees wider to better accommodate Finn’s bulk.
There was a strange, suspended moment there—Finn looming over him and just looking at him like he was something extremely unusual, or extremely enticing, or both at the same time, like a bacon-and-Nutella sandwich.
“…hmm? Oh, ah, yes. It’s just… I’ve never actually been this close to a naked dude when—when…”
“Finnegan Hudson. If you freak out on me now, I will bludgeon you to death with this horribly tacky lava lamp.”
“Whoa, no, man, calm down! It’s just… weird. But good weird. I mean I never thought I’d be comfortable with… but I am. And you look…” he stopped to take in the naked man in front of him again, his mind seeming to settle as his eyes moved. “You look beautiful.”
Kurt blushed a little further. “Really? I mean, thank you. You’re… you’re totally hot, too.”
‘Totally hot’? Oh, perfect. His brain had dismantled and regressed to its teenage state—marvellous.
Finn didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, though, leaning in for a kiss, then nuzzling Kurt’s neck, licking the still-visible hickey mark from their last encounter. Kurt let his fingers card through Finn’s always-tousled hair, messing it up even more and loving it, then playing with the soft down at the nape of his neck, blissful and excited. He wanted this, so much. He’d spent the last six years of his life wanting it.
When Finn next pulled back, it was to reach for the lube. He rolled it between the palms of his hands indecisively, his brow furrowing minutely.
“You know what to do with that?”
“Yeah… yes. I mean I think I do. Only… what if I hurt you by being a klutz or something? I’ve never had my fingers… well, you know.”
“You won’t hurt me. And if you do, you’ll know.”
“How will I know?”
“I’ll smack you. Possibly really hard.”
“Oh, okay. Good.” Finn nodded, with actual relief (which would have been confusing to most people, but not to Kurt, who knew just how much Finn loved straightforward things), before uncorking the bottle and pouring a generous quantity of clear liquid on his fingers. Kurt took a deep breath, shifting his legs to grant him the best access he could, and leaned back, trying to relax.
Things went surprisingly smoothly – in spite of his innate dorkiness, Finn was a fast learner when it came to physical stuff – and before either of them had the time to really get nervous, he had two long fingers inside of Kurt, stroking and scissoring, watching in wonderment as Kurt gasped and arched into his touch. They started kissing again, slow and careful, and when Finn found that deep-in spot, Kurt’s drawn-out groan passed into his mouth, resonating with something deep inside his chest. Within minutes they were both sweating and painfully aroused, the friction of skin-on-skin maddening and delicious.
“F-Finn… Finn, I’m—if you want, I’m… I’m ready…”
“Oh, God, please—yes.”
Kurt readjusted himself more comfortably, watching as Finn started to slick himself up.
“Wait… let me.”
He leaned closer, feeling almost a tad shy, and took the other man in hand, making sure he was properly coated, because – as hands-on experience confirmed – Finn didn’t exactly have anything to be ashamed of.
“There. All set…” he meant for it to be a cheery statement, but it came out sensual and low, so that he almost failed to recognise his own voice.
They both adjusted on the sheets, Finn’s arms on either side of him as he lined himself up with Kurt’s opening. The man was looking at him with lust-dark eyes, but when Kurt placed a hand on his chest, his heart was hammering away.
“It’s all right, Finn. I… I want you to. Just do it.”
“Will you… will you let me say it, this time?”
“Let you say what?”
Finn bit his lip. “I love you. Don’t be mad. I just… I can’t do this if… I tried random sex. It’s not for me. And you matter, so much. So I don’t wanna mess this up.”
Kurt tried to get his laboured breathing in check, but he was unable to help the strangled half-sob in his throat and—now was not the right time to cry, damn it. He made it, just barely.
“I…love you too, you stupid adorable football-minded dork. Don’t even pretend like you don’t know.”
“Okay. I won’t.” Finn’s smile was soft and happy.
“Actually, it would be safe to say that if I haven’t been able to stop until now, it won’t probably happen anytime soon, so—so don’t waste any time being afraid. You won’t mess it up. You can’t.”
Finn nodded, and there were no other words after that: just a quiet room, and the impossibly loud sound of mingling breaths as Finn slowly pushed inside, careful, never stopping until he bottomed out, resting his forehead in the crook of Kurt’s neck, shivering.
“Is it— you okay…?”
“Yes,” Kurt responded, his voice choked as he gradually adjusted to the sensation of being utterly stretched and filled. “Yes, you—go ahead.”
So Finn did, sliding back before pushing back in, once, then twice, then again, a little deeper every time. The friction and burn of it were uncomfortable, as always, but Kurt busied himself by looking at Finn, who had his head thrown back, obvious pleasure etched on his handsome face, and was groaning softly.
“God, Kurt, it’s—you—God, you feel amazing… I have to—can I? Please, just--”
“Yes,” Kurt sighed, running his hands up Finn’s tense arms. “God, yes, please.”
Immediately, Finn swallowed once and pulled back completely—and then he all but slammed back in, getting Kurt’s prostate good and proper and drawing a keening cry from the man under him.
“God! Finn, again—please, just—fuck…”
The curse made Finn’s eyes widen in surprise for a split second before he complied, falling into a fast pace, hips thrusting into Kurt again and again, their moans getting mixed up in a strangely harmonic way.
“I’m not going to… damn it, Kurt, you’re so fucking tight, I never even—I’m just…” Finn gasped.
“Right there with you…” Kurt replied in a thin, breathy laugh. “Just… please, a little more… it’s so good, I have to…”
Finn nodded abruptly, cutting him off. Then he grabbed Kurt’s wrists and pinned them above his head, keeping them in place with a strong hand, while his other hand found its way down to Kurt’s aching erection, stroking it and pumping it in time with his thrusts.
“Ah…! Oh, hell—Finn…” Kurt arched up into his touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let his legs ride higher up, knees almost brushing against Finn’s shoulders, the angle laying him utterly open.
“Yes. Yeah… God, Kurt, this is--” Whatever Finn meant to say next got lost in a hoarse cry when the change in position drove him deeper inside Kurt’s ass, which he didn’t even think was possible.
After that they both lost it, gasping, shaking, Finn pounding harder and harder into Kurt’s body as Kurt moaned and writhed beneath him, rising to meet each thrust and trying to push himself into Finn’s hand at the same time.
Near-painful pleasure crested in him wave after wave, his throat burning everytime he drew in a gulp of air, and the he was unravelling, fingers digging into his lover’s shoulder hard enough to leave marks, as he finally threw his head back and came, with a helpless, loud cry of “God, yes, yes, oh—Finn!”
The orgasm rippled through his body, making him clench hard around Finn’s cock without even meaning to, and that was all it took for Finn to lose it and come inside him, muffling a sobbing cry into Kurt’s neck.
They remained still for what seemed like the longest time, still shivering, chests heaving with their panting breaths, the sweat cooling on their feverish skin, Kurt’s fingers combing through Finn’s hair lovingly.
Eventually the man raised his head from its hiding place, directing a goofy, smitten smile at Kurt.
“Wow, Kurt, that was… oh man, it was--”
“Amazing,”Kurt agreed, kissing his lips chastely. “Totally amazing.”
“I was going to go with ‘awesome’, but I guess that doesn’t quite cut it,” Finn laughed.
Kurt smacked him on the shoulder weakly. “You brute. One day or other you’ll be arrested for your insistent maiming of the English language.”
“Whatever. You’re sexy when you’re wordy.”
“Finn!” That had him breaking into giggles, as if he actually was – oh, God – a love-giddy teenager, and… yeah, okay, that didn’t feel half-bad.
Finn carefully slid out of him, kissing him on the forehead in apology when Kurt winced from the mild soreness, and then they just lay there, cuddling, their bodies snug against each other; the outside world and everyday life just a background, something of no importance in their perfect bubble.
“So, I was thinking… would it be okay if I came back to New York with you? Moved back in?”
Kurt didn’t consider the question seriously for the first few seconds, mostly because Finn was kissing his belly button, and actually – God bless the dopey fool – sticking his nose in it. When he caught up to the words, he blinked, startled.
“You… you want us to live together?”
“Worked well enough before,” Finn shrugged. “Better than with any girlfriend I ever had, for sure.”
Kurt shook his head slowly, but not in negation. “Things are different now, you realise?” he said softly. “With… with this, whatever we’re calling it… It can’t be like it was before.”
“I know. I was actually counting that one as a plus.”
Kurt peered at him for a few long moments, trying to figure out where the inevitable catch was.
“So… you want us to live together… as boyfriends?”
“Why not? Let’s see if it works out. Uh, if that’s cool with you?” Finn’s easy, guileless smile left no room for deceit. It tugged at Kurt’s heartstrings so hard it almost hurt, in all the right ways.
“Say it. Please, Finn, I… I need to hear you say it.” He tried to keep his voice and breaths steady, not succeeding half as well as he would have liked, his eyes trained stubbornly into Finn’s chocolate ones.
Finn smiled, warm and soft, looking back at him for a moment in silence, then touched a fingertip to Kurt’s nose.
“I take you, Kurt Hummel.”
And that had to be the shortest vow in the history of civilised weddings, but it held everything Kurt would ever need to hear.