Miles times it just right, gliding his blade beneath Kurt's skin, peeling it free from the bloody muscle beneath, so careful, so delicate. He'd been in charge of this, back when he was part of the pack, skinning the prey the wolves brought back from their hunts, carefully parting the valuable fur from the meat, tanning and curing it to sell or trade or just add to the warm pile by the fire in the cabin. He'd known just how to save every last precious morsel of what was edible, how to remove the fur in one solid piece, ready to be sewn into clothes or used to make leather or whatever else they needed.
Kurt is still alive, still moving -- their whole body jolting as they obediently fuck themselves open, hands shaking, eyes glazed and bleary with tears, throat clutching and convulsing around his cock. But the principle is the same. Miles moves the knife, skins away the scar shaped like Corrigan's teeth, waits until the choking, sobbing human finally comes, painting their chest with it, mixing with the blood.
Then with a flick of his wrist, the patch of scar tissue is gone, sliding free to be tossed into the fire, leaving Kurt's neck a raw, open wound, layers of sodden, filthy bandages almost useless by now. Miles waits another heartbeat, watches their eyes roll back, their body shudder helplessly -- and then he slides his cock free and spills over their tear-streaked face, their bloody chest, the wound he's just made. His fingers slide through the red and white, smearing them together, then shoving past Kurt's bruised lips, forcing them to suck their own blood and come off his hands.
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Date: 2023-12-15 01:02 am (UTC)Kurt is still alive, still moving -- their whole body jolting as they obediently fuck themselves open, hands shaking, eyes glazed and bleary with tears, throat clutching and convulsing around his cock. But the principle is the same. Miles moves the knife, skins away the scar shaped like Corrigan's teeth, waits until the choking, sobbing human finally comes, painting their chest with it, mixing with the blood.
Then with a flick of his wrist, the patch of scar tissue is gone, sliding free to be tossed into the fire, leaving Kurt's neck a raw, open wound, layers of sodden, filthy bandages almost useless by now. Miles waits another heartbeat, watches their eyes roll back, their body shudder helplessly -- and then he slides his cock free and spills over their tear-streaked face, their bloody chest, the wound he's just made. His fingers slide through the red and white, smearing them together, then shoving past Kurt's bruised lips, forcing them to suck their own blood and come off his hands.
"See? Was that so hard?"