If he truly does get off on their fear, he gets potent waves of it now, radiating from them. Every word out of his mouth is like poison. The thought of Miles being part of the pack at all is already incomprehensible to them, his cruelty and malice inherently incompatible with the tender, gentle, loving relationship the rest of the pack had with them, and with each other. But to think he was with them when they chose Kurt, when they watched the little human from afar and saw how miserable they were with their current life, how much better their life could be as the pack's chosen, cherished mate, is even worse.
To think he'd suggested to the pack—to Corrigan, Naseer, sweet Benji, who he'd already bullied enough—that a mate's place was in shackles... chained to the bed... just a thing to be used more than a part of the pack... It sickens them. That bottomless pit of dread in their stomach roils and churns.
His fingers make the collar go tight around their healing wounds, and Kurt whimpers, flinching around Miles' cock. They can feel the tears pressing, pain and sorrow and horror all rolled into one pulsating mess of emotions, threatening to spill over. Only the squeeze of fingers around their bruised wrists keep them in check, the only control they have. It's so frustrating. They don't want to be scared of him, they don't want him to know they're scared, they don't want to be here, and they're so hurt and furious that they have to be.
If not for the baby, they would've pulled away and told him as much. But they don't. They can't.
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Date: 2023-11-26 10:40 pm (UTC)To think he'd suggested to the pack—to Corrigan, Naseer, sweet Benji, who he'd already bullied enough—that a mate's place was in shackles... chained to the bed... just a thing to be used more than a part of the pack... It sickens them. That bottomless pit of dread in their stomach roils and churns.
His fingers make the collar go tight around their healing wounds, and Kurt whimpers, flinching around Miles' cock. They can feel the tears pressing, pain and sorrow and horror all rolled into one pulsating mess of emotions, threatening to spill over. Only the squeeze of fingers around their bruised wrists keep them in check, the only control they have. It's so frustrating. They don't want to be scared of him, they don't want him to know they're scared, they don't want to be here, and they're so hurt and furious that they have to be.
If not for the baby, they would've pulled away and told him as much. But they don't. They can't.