You don't have to talk yet, sugar. [It's soft, that syrupy drawl that Corry only gets post-sex slipping in. He keeps stroking up and down Kyle's back, smooth and rhythmic.] I'm not goin' anywhere, you just take your time. Catch your breath.
[This is normally the part where Corry pulls away, gets ready to leave. But he just repeats:] I'm not going anywhere.
[Corry preens a little, looking very proud of himself, then kisses Kyle's forehead once more.] Yeah, babe, be right back.
[After carefully disentangling himself, Corry’s back in a few moments with water -- and Tylenol and a washcloth.] You're gonna be sore tomorrow, but you shouldn't bruise, I don't think.
[He snorts, because of course Corry would manage to look smug at a time like this. He lays boneless for a moment, smiling stupidly even as tears dry on his cheeks.
Kyle forces himself to sit up when Corry returns so he can accept the water and pills.]
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[This is normally the part where Corry pulls away, gets ready to leave. But he just repeats:] I'm not going anywhere.
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He smiles, wavery but genuinely happy.]
I know you're not.
Can I have some water? I think you fucked me so good that I'm dehydrated.
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[After carefully disentangling himself, Corry’s back in a few moments with water -- and Tylenol and a washcloth.] You're gonna be sore tomorrow, but you shouldn't bruise, I don't think.
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Kyle forces himself to sit up when Corry returns so he can accept the water and pills.]
No? Pity. I like bruises.
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[Then he's quiet, watching to make sure Kyle drinks all the water, before saying softly:] Thank you.
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[He goes easily, looking satisfied.]
Hm? For what?
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[Kyle shuts his eyes, exhausted.]
Mmm. I'll always be here.