The terror taking hold of them as soon as they see the knife morphs into abject panic when Miles brings it to their neck. Just the touch of that blade to their skin makes their blood run cold, sharp hateful steel pressing into the only patch of skin not already flayed from their neck. Kurt's frightened screams are choked out by Miles' cock, still pumping in and out of their throat.
This can't be happening. That's the last scar. Their last mark, Corrigan's mark—Corrigan, true Alpha, beloved but forbidden—and he's going to take it from them like this. On their knees, pleasuring him, pleasuring themself. They twitch, body jerking violently, like they're about to shove away from him again—
—but they can't. Everything in them is screaming to resist, to escape, but the second they do, it'll be over. Miles only cares about winning. He only wants to punish and dominate his former pack, using their mate or their baby as leverage to get what he wants. He doesn't technically need both of them for that. If he doesn't kill the baby outright, he'll just kill Kurt instead, cutting the infant out of them exactly like he'd threatened to, using them instead. No matter what, Miles wins. He always wins.
They have no choice but to obey. To not stop. Convulsing with sobs, Kurt continues shakily, shamefully touching themself as the knife starts peeling their skin away, making them scream around Miles' cock. Don't stop. The words ring cruelly in their ears. Don't stop. They stroke themself, thighs quivering with every pass of their clammy palm up and down their cock. Don't stop. Their fingers plunge fast and deep into their ass even as they go tight with terror, fear twisting up their guts, sick pleasure flooding every part of their senses already taken up by fear and agony. Don't you dare stop.
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Date: 2023-12-11 03:53 am (UTC)This can't be happening. That's the last scar. Their last mark, Corrigan's mark—Corrigan, true Alpha, beloved but forbidden—and he's going to take it from them like this. On their knees, pleasuring him, pleasuring themself. They twitch, body jerking violently, like they're about to shove away from him again—
—but they can't. Everything in them is screaming to resist, to escape, but the second they do, it'll be over. Miles only cares about winning. He only wants to punish and dominate his former pack, using their mate or their baby as leverage to get what he wants. He doesn't technically need both of them for that. If he doesn't kill the baby outright, he'll just kill Kurt instead, cutting the infant out of them exactly like he'd threatened to, using them instead. No matter what, Miles wins. He always wins.
They have no choice but to obey. To not stop. Convulsing with sobs, Kurt continues shakily, shamefully touching themself as the knife starts peeling their skin away, making them scream around Miles' cock. Don't stop. The words ring cruelly in their ears. Don't stop. They stroke themself, thighs quivering with every pass of their clammy palm up and down their cock. Don't stop. Their fingers plunge fast and deep into their ass even as they go tight with terror, fear twisting up their guts, sick pleasure flooding every part of their senses already taken up by fear and agony. Don't you dare stop.