"We're at our best when it's from our hips...
From our hips we don't give a shit
It just feels good, and that's no sin.
It's the only way to feel alive,
The closest thing to being born again.
And when baby comes, it's job well done!
A roll in the hay, a roll around the sun…"
There are lots of things Finn Hudson wishes he did not remember, and most of them involve Kurt Hummel.
It isn't so much that Finn wants to forget that Kurt exists, per se. That would be impossible, seeing as they're family by marriage and, in most respects, they are good friends. But if there was a pill that could make him forget certain memories of his choosing, or if there was a procedure like the kind in that movie Rachel loves so much, Finn Hudson would be first in line because there are lots of things he wants to forget—most of which just happen to involve Kurt Hummel. His friend. His stepbrother.
His former lover.
Although! Although, if you asked Finn directly, he would not use that phrase himself. True, there were…moments between them, moments in which they…did things…together…but saying they were lovers is a bit too much. It's too weighty a word.
Saying they were lovers seems to Finn to imply the presence of emotion of some kind.
It was never like that. He knows that now. Not even the first interaction had any sort of emotion in it. And oh, does Finn remember the first time it happened.
It was innocent. Harmless, really. They were sitting on the couch, possibly watching television or maybe doing homework. To be honest, he can't really recall what they were doing or talking about in the moments leading up to the first time—though remembering might help to explain the why and how portions of its occurrence—but for some reason, Kurt's face was impossibly close to his. Invading his personal space. Bursting his personal bubble. In the past, such a thing would've made Finn hastily backpedal while asking what the hell the other boy was doing. He would have, at the very least, given his future stepbrother the kind of look that would make Kurt bashful enough to apologize or fumble through some excuse.
That day, though, Finn did neither of those things. Instead, he found himself caught on the vibrant color of Kurt's eyes and how, at this distance, they seemed to to remind him of the ocean—of how the ocean isn't necessarily one color but constantly shifting through several depending on the day or weather. Kurt's eyes were—well, they still are—just as expressive, if not more so, but on that particular day, Finn had trouble determining just what (if any) sort of emotion was coming through them.
Though, Finn figures now, the trouble he had might have had to do with the fact that he was busy putting a quick kiss on the other boy's lips.
At first, he wasn't entirely sure he had done it. He was certain the idea had popped into his head for some inexplicable reason, but there was surely no way he had actually kissed Kurt Hummel! But when he realized that Kurt was staring at him wide-eyed from the other end of the couch (with a speed Finn still cannot account for), fingers touching his almost always flushed lips, the reality of his action could not be denied. He had done it. Finn Hudson had kissed Kurt Hummel. And he didn't even really know why.
Even now, he has no idea why. It wasn't as though he had ever looked at Kurt before then and felt any attraction. Even in the time afterward, the idea of being intimate with another boy did nothing for Finn except maybe creep him out a little and confuse him greatly. His greatest fantasies still thrived on his assumptions of what Rachel Berry looked like naked.
Still, now and then, Finn would catch himself focusing on Kurt's lips as he spoke. Why were they always so flushed? What did they feel like? Taste like? It increasingly troubled Finn that not only could he not recall, he wanted to know almost as much as he wanted to know what Rachel looked like under her clothes.
Maybe it was only inevitable, then, that it happened again—only this time, it was a slightly more conscious, calculated maneuver on Finn's part.
It was a while after Burt and Carole got married. The two of them had the house to themselves, given the responsibility of manning the fort for the weekend while the couple went off to enjoy some sort of mini-vacation. Somehow, for some reason, the two were in Finn's room and they were arguing. Finn's memory fails him when it comes to remembering the topic, but he remembers the two of them standing in his bedroom, Kurt closer to the doorway—still dressed in his Dalton uniform. He remembers thinking how strange it was for Kurt to be yelling at him. It wasn't that he had never seen the boy angry. It was just that, when he was angry, there was a tendency to withdraw. Anger came out of Kurt in backhanded compliments or dagger-filled looks.
Finn can't remember what they were arguing about, sure, but he remembers how he felt. How it felt to have Kurt yelling at him. It felt bad. Disappointing. Confrontations have always been uncomfortable for Finn, and being wrapped up in this argument with his new stepbrother and friend felt like being punched in the gut. He just wanted things to be okay again. He wanted Kurt to stop being angry with him.
He wanted things to be quiet.
Maybe that's why he kissed Kurt the second time. It seemed like the only reasonable thing to do, even though it also felt wrong and invasive and like he was playing dirty.
He remembers the shocked look on Kurt's face. Even as fumbling apologies tumbled from Finn's mouth, he found himself focused on the flush of the other boy's lips; on the shine in his clear blue eyes. Kurt looked so much younger then. Smaller. Defenseless. Innocent.
Corruptible.
But Finn tried not to think about that as he continued to fumble his way through apologizing and explaining that he had no idea what came over him, which is probably why he never quite noticed how close Kurt had gotten. Or why he never quite felt Kurt's hands at the front of his shirt. And it was also probably why he nearly fell onto the other boy when Kurt tugged him forward, back towards those flushed lips.
Which isn't to say that he didn't fall on top of him eventually.
Just not in that moment.
In that moment, just as the heat was rising into Finn's face, Kurt broke away with a little shove, breathless and flushed. His blue eyes shined brightly with a mischievous light. The corners of his lips twitched upwards in a little smirk.
And then, very simply, Kurt turned and slipped out of the room. He left Finn alone in his bedroom with his racing heart and his muddled thoughts…
And something else.
Suffice to say, that was the first time Finn Hudson did not think of fucking Rachel Berry as he stroked himself to orgasm. Though she would eventually reappear in his thoughts in the days and weeks that followed, it was with less and less regularity. He had to actually work to conjure up a mental picture of her body. While it—while she was still very much the queen of his desires, it was steadily impossible to ignore that someone else was sneaking in and sitting on the throne during her absences.
Hindsight says that should have made him feel uncomfortable. The possibility of being found out by anyone should have been enough of a deterrent to end things there—even more so, knowing what Kurt went through just because he dared to be himself! Who wanted to be that guy—the one known for making out with his brother? Not his real brother, sure, but technicalities like that matter little to the Teenage Hive Mind. And certainly, they would matter little to Burt and Carole…
The thought of being discovered and shamed should have kept things from progressing any further.
Should, but didn't. And the third time...
Well.
To be quite fair, there was not so much a "third time" as there were lots of little "first times" after that second time.
Like, for instance, the first time Kurt crept into Finn's room well after Burt and Carole went to sleep, after Finn did his best attempt to drop a subtle hint during dinner (though, in hindsight, the hint was so blatantly obvious he might as well have thrown Kurt on the table and made out with him right then and there). Then there was the first time they made out on the living room couch while some cheesy horror flick was playing. The first time Finn let Kurt's hips grind against his was the first time he considered the possibility that this might go places he wasn't ready for (though the second time it happened, he realized he didn't mind as much if it was going to feel this good or better). The look on Kurt's face as he came just from the friction alone...
The memory of it kept Finn up fairly frequently in the days following.
The first handjob happened in the car after going to the movies. If asked, Finn would never be able to remember what film they saw, but he could easily recite the litany of shockingly filthy things that slipped from Kurt's mouth into his ear-though perhaps not without needing to excuse himself afterwards.
The first blowjob happened in Kurt's bedroom, during another weekend in which the boys had the house to themselves. Kurt made him wear a condom. To this day, Finn isn't quite sure what finally made him come-catching sight of the act reflected in Kurt's vanity mirror or the way Kurt looked up at him through his lashes as his lips busied themselves around the head of Finn's dick. If others only knew the things that someone who looked so innocent and sweet was capable of doing...or even capable of saying...
The first time Finn returned the favor, Kurt had to talk him through it. His hands shook as he undid Kurt's belt. It seemed to take him forever to undo the snaps, the zipper; felt like a proper fool fighting with trying to get his pants down. The press of denim against his knees left them curiously bruised red for days. It was worth every whimper and moan Kurt tried to keep in his throat, every instance his fingers wound their way into Finn's hair. The only trouble of it was how difficult it was to watch Kurt's face while getting him off—and watching him get off was half of what did it for Finn. The blush, the half-lidded stare, the press of his teeth into his bottom lip. Those were his favorite parts of these moments, the parts Finn replayed in his head the most often.
It seems strange to him now that despite all of these little meetings, they never once talked about it. Not once did they discuss the potential existence of feelings or the possible consequences of being caught. It wasn't a relationship in the Webster's sense. To even say it was a "friends with benefits" situation was pushing it. It was pure and simple lust. A physical need rather than an emotional want, something comprised of looks or gestures that spoke for them. And, really, perhaps the reason they didn't talk about what they were doing was because there didn't seem to really be a need to talk about it. There seemed to be the unspoken understanding that this was something secret even while it never felt like they were hiding something. So far as anyone was concerned, there was nothing to hide. Outside of those sexually-charged moments, they were just Finn Hudson and Kurt Hummel, the Jock and the Gay Kid from Glee Club, two unlikely friends who became stepbrothers. Nobody knew any different because they never behaved any different. It was like flipping a light switch between two different personalities, two different realities.
And then Finn dared to ask one night, "Where is this going?"
Even in the dim light coming through the window, he could sense Kurt's confusion as palpably as he could feel the boy's weight settled across his hips. "Where is what going?"
"This. This…thing we've been doing. Whatever it is," Finn answered. "Where is it going?"
There was a long pause. And then Kurt's voice was in his ear, sweet and seductive all at once.
"Wherever you want it to."
That was, now that Finn remembers, the first night they had what he would consider sex.
Like everything else up to that moment, it just seemed to happen on its own. If Kurt was even the least bit nervous, he never gave himself away in voice or manner. Where Finn trembled, Kurt was steady. He kept control. It was…
It wasn't what Finn expected. He thought it would hurt at first. It didn't. It felt awkward at first, sure, and the pressure of having first Kurt's fingers and then the firm thickness of his cock inside of him was initially uncomfortable, but it didn't really hurt in any sense of the word. It was different. New. He was surprised that it actually felt…good, though it took the stroking of his own erection before he actually achieved any sort of orgasm. It felt good. And hearing Kurt whimper and moan, seeing flashes of his pleasured expressions captured in the sliver of streetlights coming through the window; that was good, too.
And maybe that's why that first time wasn't the last.
Though it probably should have been.
