AN: Glee is the property of Ryan Murphy, et al. This work is purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

Rated M for graphic sexual acts and language of the foulest sort.

I am currently without a beta, so any grammatical or contextual mistakes are my sole responsibility.

Polyamory is a beautiful and valid lifestyle choice, in which multiple partners, through grace, love, and open communication, commit to making their love work for and with them. When at its best, pain is shared and joy is multiplied. This is not a story about polyamory. This is a story about making the wrong choices, the wrong sacrifices, and all for the wrong reasons. It is a story of how a strong, independent, confident man is broken: piece by piece, bit by bit. Until one day, he looks in the mirror, and sees a reflection he doesn't know..

The room was warm- practically stifling. Sweat rolled down Blaine's spine, as he leaned against the headboard, his arms wrapped snug around his lover. His chest to the other man's back, being a sort of interactive pillow, cradling him as he arched and gasped with abandon. Blaine's gaze trailed down the line of Sebastian's body, past his twitching abdomen, to the perfectly pink lips that were wrapped around the root of his cock. Perfect lips, on a perfect face, with perfect glasz eyes that suddenly rolled up to meet his own. A sharp bolt of heat ran through him, as he watched those slender, pale fingers dig into his lover's thighs, as a high-pitched, breathless moan sounded. Sebastian bucked up suddenly, breaking the fog of arousal that swirled around Blaine, and he tore his gaze away from Kurt's head in the other man's lap. One tanned hand slipped up to palm a flat nipple, tongue darting out to drag across his partner's taut neck, salt-slick and wet. The sounds, the smells, the tastes in this apartment were enough to drive a man insane - a decadent fantasy come to life. Three beautiful men, entwined. Sweating, tasting, touching, fucking on a lazy summer afternoon.

Curses were dripping from Sebastian's lips, as he finally grabbed a handful of Kurt's hair, practically ripping his mouth away. He surged forward from Blaine's careful embrace, roughly pinning the slender young man on his back, one hand sliding ungentle fingers into Kurt's ass, testing the stretch from their last go around. His other hand reached back expectantly, and the curly-haired brunet placed a half-empty bottle of lube in his waiting grasp. Sebastian flipped the lid, placing sloppy, heated kisses on Kurt's thighs, working him further open. Blaine tore open yet another condom package, adding the wrapper to the pile accumulating on the floor near the wastebasket, and expertly rolled it on to his partner's cock. The taller man made a sound in his throat - it could have been thanks, it could have merely been a reaction to the friction. Regardless, it was only a moment before he surged forward yet again, lining up with the waiting orifice, and thrust himself home.

Blaine settled himself back against the headboard, grasping his dick with a sweaty palm. His eyes burned into Kurt's profile, memorizing the flushed curves of his cheek, the way his once-coiffed hair lay plastered against his forehead with sweat, the way his lips looked, swollen from kisses and head. The way his gasps and moans provided a pornographic counterpoint to the bass-heavy music playing from the computer in the corner, from a playlist aptly entitled "Music to Make Fuck To". The voyeur tightened his grip, speeding up his strokes at the erotic sight of the sassy fashionista falling utterly apart. His guilt was forcefully shoved away - it had no place in this moment. Later, he would let himself wallow. Later, he would hate himself a little bit for how much he wanted the wrong man. Later... later he would do a lot of things. But right now, right now Kurt was arching and grinding, and pumping his dick not twelve inches away from him, and there was nothing Blaine wanted more than to come at the same time as his lover's other boyfriend.

A fraction of a second passed - or maybe it was an eternity stretched thin over stained cotton sheets. Whichever it was, he came back to himself in a heady rush, endorphins singing through his veins, semen clinging to his fist.

"Oh, God, 'Bastian..." Kurt's sated groan reverberated in his ears, causing his neck to flush in shame for wishing it was his name being spoken instead. Be cool, Blaine. Be cool. Repeating his overused internal mantra, Blaine stood a little shakily, and made his way to the en suite bathroom to retrieve a pair of damp washcloths, a clean towel, taking the time to wash up a little himself. Sure enough, by the time he returned, Sebastian and Kurt were exchanging lazy kisses side by side, arms wrapped loosely around each other, whispering sweet nothings.

"How late are you staying, baby?" he heard Sebastian murmur, rubbing his nose against the other's shoulder.

"Mm, not too late. I have to work pretty early tomorrow." Kurt stretched his arms languidly above his head.

"But I don't want you to go," came the pouting response, the taller man throwing a leg over the countertenor's hips, pinning him in place, hands skimming up those toned biceps to circle his wrists.

Blaine's entrance barely caused a stir. Towels and whatnot went on the nightstand, and he met his partner's gaze briefly. Sebastian's eyes flicked towards the door with an arched brow, and well, he could take a hint. Blaine snagged a pair of shorts from his dresser on his way out of the bedroom.

"But, baby, I love you. I never want you to leave..."

Shutting the door behind him, he padded barefoot to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The blast of chilly air was particularly welcome against his overheated flesh, and he pulled his shorts on reluctantly, eyes flicking over their supply of groceries. He had no doubt that 'Bastian would convince his boyfriend to stay, at least for dinner, so he might as well get it started, right?

He moved on autopilot, taking a swig from his newly opened Gatorade, pulling out some chicken breast to defrost, washing lettuce and slicing vegetables for a summery salad. Walnuts and raspberry vinaigrette for himself and Sebastian, olives and a drizzle of oil and balsamic for Kurt. Garlic and white wine to season the pan-seared chicken breast... he'd done this a hundred times, with a hundred meals. It was only recently that it had started to bother him. That he was picking Kurt's favorites, not Sebastian's. That when he went shopping, he wondered what Kurt might want for dessert, rather than getting his lover's favorite cheesecake. It was all around a fucked up situation. But he had it under control. It wasn't the first time Sebastian had brought someone in to their relationship, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But it was the first time that Blaine had feelings for one.

He clenched his fists. Cracked his neck. Turned the chicken in its pan. It was under control.

A year ago...

"If I said my heart was beating loud,

If we could escape this crowd somehow,

If I said I want your body now...

Would you hold it against me?"

Stripped down to an acoustic version, the cheesy, popular Britney Spears club anthem was almost unrecognizable, if not for the chorus. Crooned on stage at the bar's open mic night by a twenty-something young man with slicked back hair and a grey cardigan, well. It was no less cheesy, but it gained a kind of shameless charm. In fact, it was received with fairly enthusiastic applause. The preppy youth on stage beamed at his audience and swept an elaborate bow, slinging his guitar over his shoulder by its strap, and making way for the next performer.

Blaine Anderson was pretty pleased with himself. His song went over well, he had the next day off, and he had some cash in his wallet. For him, that was a good day. It got even better when a tall, good looking man in a fitted blazer came up at his elbow and offered a flirty smile.

"You must be thirsty. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Uh, sure. Rum and coke?" he blushed.

His new friend ushered him to the bar, ordering expertly, then turned back to him. "Blaine, right? I think we met briefly at Nick and Jeff's New Year's party."

"Right! Steve? Dammit. I know it starts with an 's'..." Blaine's flush deepened.

"Sebastian Smythe. I admit, I'm a little disappointed I wasn't more memorable. Because I think I'd recognize you anywhere," he affected a pout.

The first round of drinks turned into a second, then a third. By last call, they were laughing and chatting like old friends.

"Do you want to grab some food? I don't have anywhere I need to be, and waffles sound amazing right about now. There's a great 24-hour diner just about a block from here," Blaine offered with a grin.

"Sounds perfect."

Over Mama Cass' Famous Waffles, the night continued. Blaine talked about his family-

"I never would have guessed you were from Podunk Ohio," laughed Sebastian. "You seem to fit in so well with the whole New York scene,"

"Liar," he shot back with a wide smile. "I know I'm hopeless. But I love it here."

About his first boyfriend-

"You what?" gasped the taller man, his blazer long since tossed to the side of the booth, his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow as he leaned forward, scandalized.

"I serenaded him at work. Robin Thicke's 'When I Get You Alone'," the younger of the two insisted, laughing so hard at the once-bitter memory that he had trouble getting the words out.

"Doesn't it have a line about sex toys?"

"Yep. Hence the whole he got fired and dumped me thing."

"Oh God."

About his current situation-

"So since my parents decided I was wasting my potential and cut me off, I've pretty much been crashing at my friend David's place - you remember David, right? Well, since he deployed to Iraq last month, I've been, you know, watering the plants, feeding the cat. God knows I could never afford an apartment like that on a barista's salary. He's cool about it though. I mean, imagine the kennel fees for that bastard feline. He's giant, and lazy, and mother of God is he mean."

And once the glimmer of false dawn began to chase away the New York night, about Sebastian. Almost inevitably, Blaine reached across the table to clasp a hand still warm from his seventh cup of coffee.

"So, um... Your place or mine?"

The can ride to Sebastian's uptown loft wasn't awkward at all. Neither was it full of passionate touches and kisses, out of respect for the driver. But once the apartment door swung shut, all bets were off. Blaine's favorite cardigan was discarded by the door, his shirt and Sebastian's fell forgotten in the darkened hallway, and by the time they made it to the bedroom proper, they were kicking off shoes and fumbling with belts. And over the course of the following several hours, Sebastian and his well-above-average dick made the younger man come harder than he'd ever come in his life - and more than once.

"Ugh," Blaine groaned, flinging an arm over his eyes at the sunlight streaming through the window. He tried to summon the energy to move. "I guess I should... I mean, you know, where's the closest subway? I'm terrible with cross streets..."

"No," Sebastian pouted, reddened lips leaving a moist kiss on his sweaty shoulder. "Stay for a nap, at least. Please?"

"Mmkay."

AN: Like I said, this fic is all about "doing it wrong" and figuring out how to fix it when it's broken. If you'd like to read the positive side of poly relationships, I recommend Puckleberry Finn, by MaryRoyale and the Donut 'verse by Nubianamy. Actually, read everything by Nubianamy, because she's amazing, and also my favorite.