Corrigan's response is more a growl than words, his whole body shuddering with pleasure he didn't even know was possible. Kurt's always felt incredible, their fragile human body so delightful and mystifying and beautiful, but now that they know, they understand what they can do, what they can help create -- now that he can feel their desire flowing through the link between their souls, their need to have him breed them, the already-wonderful act is somehow heightened, intensified. The Alpha can't even form words, just a silent rush of adoration, of something akin to worship as he glides his tongue over the blood dripping down Kurt's chin, as one clawed hand strokes their cheek, as he rests his forehead to theirs.

The answer is yes, of course, and eventually Corrigan will remember how to weave seductive, filthy words the way only he can. He'll tease his mate gently about how eager they are to get knocked up, to carry his pups, he'll re-learn the delicate sensitivity of their body again and again. He'll share too, of course, even now feeling the rest of the pack draw closer, wanting to be present in this moment. Corrigan's possessiveness of Kurt only extends to those not within his family, any outside forces who wouldn't -- couldn't understand this. How beautiful it is. How rare and precious and divine.

The grass is cool, damp, but Corrigan doesn't let Kurt feel it, cradles them close to him with one arm, seated on his knot, which pulses and pumps inside them, feels the rounded weight of their stomach against his own. He finds his mark on their throat and finally manages to speak against it: "Yes. Yes, just like this. Just like this."