"So needy," Corrigan murmurs against Kurt's neck, finding the tender bitemarks from the pack -- Naseer's nearly touching his own, Leo and Kai's on opposite shoulders, Benji's closest to their heart -- and soothing the residual sting with his tongue. There's little chance of infection, not with the concentrated, loving cleaning from all five wolves, but instinct still prompts him to make sure. The tang of Kurt's blood is addictive, sweet and bright and thrumming with life, and they shiver so deliciously in his lap every time his tongue drags over the wounds.

Still, the sun is getting lower and lower in the sky, the faint chill of night lacing through the warm wind, and Corrigan wants Kurt safely snuggled in their den before the moon is out. He thinks briefly of Miles, of the audacious attempted coup and the days of insubordination that preceeded it, and his grip tightens protectively on Kurt. Miles had made his choice, knowing the pack would choose a mate soon -- he'd wanted the privileges Corrigan has, wanted to be the one with first and last claim to the chosen human's body, wanted to exert his dominance over them. The thought of it makes the Alpha’s blood run hot with possessiveness, nails digging into Kurt's pale skin, marking them up even more. Miles will never so much as look at their mate, much less touch them.

Putting the thought aside, Corrigan gently scoops up handfuls of river water, cleaning the blood and come and sweat off Kurt's shuddering body with slow, lingering movements of his big hands. "You need to rest, my mate," he says firmly, scooping Kurt up and off his cock so he can ease his fingers inside their soft, tender hole, cleaning them out with careful motions. Much as he likes the look of them, belly full and rounded, they need to eat as well, and sleep comfortably. "We'll stay close, but you can't take all of us without a break, little one."

A pause, then Corrigan smooths a hand over Kurt's stomach, hiding a smirk against their neck. "Not yet."