[Corrigan keeps his atm around Kurt, almost protectively, fingers absently stroking at his shivering side, like he might for a skittish animal. The hand methodically jerking Kurt off never stops, never slows, just keeps stroking in long, rhythmic pulls, taking note of what movements have the young man’s knees buckling, his breath catching in wordless need.
After a few silent moments, Corrigan murmurs almost tenderly against Kurt's hair:] Are you going to come for me? It's all right, you can let go, just let it feel good, baby. Just let go.
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After a few silent moments, Corrigan murmurs almost tenderly against Kurt's hair:] Are you going to come for me? It's all right, you can let go, just let it feel good, baby. Just let go.