Kurt, when they reach out through the shattered remnants of their link, barely feels anything. Some days that feeling is infinitely worse than the nightmares. Their link with Holly is the only one that remains, strong and true and unbreakable even by insidious parasites like Miles, flooding their whole body with unconditional love. But they don't feel the pack the way they used to. Even when surrounded by their mates, all five wolves embracing their slight form, they only feel them physically.
It's crushingly, unspeakably lonely. They'd thought just being around the pack every single day would knit the bonds back together, would aid in their healing, but it hasn't. It's like the monstrous ghost of the wolf who'd taken them, now dead and thawing by their father's side up in the mountains far, far away, is the only one who remains within them. Like they're still linked to his spirit in hell.
Corrigan's suggestion gives them pause, but they still look up at him from within the bundle of furs, breath escaping them in puffs of smoke outside in the cold. In truth, they have been...hesitant to be touched since returning. The thought that letting their guard down and being intimate with the pack could trigger memories of Miles' abuse had terrified them—and, as if sensing that, the pack hadn't pushed for it even once. Everything in due time. It'd be easier once Kurt had time to heal.
But time had proven fruitless. And Kurt, as impatient now as before they'd been taken, is sick of waiting. "W-Will it help?" they ask softly, sniffling and wiping their cheeks, chest still shuddering with lingering sobs. "I— I don't want to remember his touch, Alpha. I don't want to f-feel him in my mind anymore, what he did to me, what...what he made me do." They've told Corrigan some things, left out others. Kurt doubts they'll ever tell him everything. It's better for him to remain ignorant.
A small hand reaches out into the cold, pressing into Corrigan's chest—hesitant at first, then firmly, possessively—the contrast of their skin against his making their stomach swoop with heated longing. "Please, Alpha... Make me forget."
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It's crushingly, unspeakably lonely. They'd thought just being around the pack every single day would knit the bonds back together, would aid in their healing, but it hasn't. It's like the monstrous ghost of the wolf who'd taken them, now dead and thawing by their father's side up in the mountains far, far away, is the only one who remains within them. Like they're still linked to his spirit in hell.
Corrigan's suggestion gives them pause, but they still look up at him from within the bundle of furs, breath escaping them in puffs of smoke outside in the cold. In truth, they have been...hesitant to be touched since returning. The thought that letting their guard down and being intimate with the pack could trigger memories of Miles' abuse had terrified them—and, as if sensing that, the pack hadn't pushed for it even once. Everything in due time. It'd be easier once Kurt had time to heal.
But time had proven fruitless. And Kurt, as impatient now as before they'd been taken, is sick of waiting. "W-Will it help?" they ask softly, sniffling and wiping their cheeks, chest still shuddering with lingering sobs. "I— I don't want to remember his touch, Alpha. I don't want to f-feel him in my mind anymore, what he did to me, what...what he made me do." They've told Corrigan some things, left out others. Kurt doubts they'll ever tell him everything. It's better for him to remain ignorant.
A small hand reaches out into the cold, pressing into Corrigan's chest—hesitant at first, then firmly, possessively—the contrast of their skin against his making their stomach swoop with heated longing. "Please, Alpha... Make me forget."