"If you say so, princess," Corrigan murmurs, stroking the pads of his fingers against their tongue, a mirror of the fingers plunged to the knuckle inside their hole, quick intent strokes that have Kurt's legs quivering wildly, uncontrollably. He torments them for a little more, then slowly stops, an apparent show of mercy, giving them a few moments to pant against the blankets. He even eases them to lie on their back, less friction against their oversensitive cock.

That way they can watch him undress, a slow, careful process, unbuttoning his shirt, his slacks, pushing them off onto the ground to be dealt with later. He holds onto his loose tie, though, climbing onto the bed and neatly looping the fabric around Kurt's wrists, tying them together and pushing them up above their head. "Hold it there," he commands simply, knowing that they'll obey. Or -- well, they'll try.

Because the next thing Corrigan does is slide back down the bed, hook those long, trembling legs over his shoulders and take their cock in his mouth, swallowing them down easily, one hand pressing firmly on their stomach so they can't squirm away. He doesn't waste a moment, doesn't build back up to the torturous, intense feeling, just immediately starts pushing Kurt back towards that peak they only just left, tongue curling around their spent length and coaxing it into hardness again.