The thing is, he's right. This is much more than they're used to. Sure, they can ride their toys or sit on a magic wand until they're blue in the face, but at least then they are in control. At any time, Kurt can stop what they're doing, in complete control of their own pleasure. Even when the viewers—namely Southcalman—would order them to keep going, that feeling of pushing the wailing streamer past their breaking point was always just an illusion Kurt would grant them. Always in control.
But they're decidedly not in control now. It's always different when another person gets involved, sure, but none of their other conquests ever pushed and pushed and pushed the way Molloy does. Kurt goes from gasping to moaning to whimpering within minutes, every breath sharp and tinged with desperation, their fingers clenching so hard into the sheets they might just rip. He doesn't even let them come down from that high, just pushes them further and further into overstimulated bliss.
They don't stop him from pushing his fingers into their mouth, instead hungrily sucking down their own spend, moaning loudly at the taste of themself, the humiliation of being degraded like this. It feels so good, even as Molloy punishes their hole with his fingers, pushing against that spot again and again until they see stars. It's almost too much of a good thing.
Almost. Because Molloy is right once again. They're way too stubborn to beg him to stop. Freyja once did a four hour Sybian marathon, for fuck's sake. No way is a man—the most magnetic, captivating, irresistible man they've ever met, with the most sinful tongue and talented fingers—going to break them. "N-No, I— hah—! I can take it, D-Daddy!" they whine around his fingers, words slurring, adamant even as their hips jerk and stutter against his hand, as their spent cock twitches helplessly between their quivering legs.
"If you say so, princess," Corrigan murmurs, stroking the pads of his fingers against their tongue, a mirror of the fingers plunged to the knuckle inside their hole, quick intent strokes that have Kurt's legs quivering wildly, uncontrollably. He torments them for a little more, then slowly stops, an apparent show of mercy, giving them a few moments to pant against the blankets. He even eases them to lie on their back, less friction against their oversensitive cock.
That way they can watch him undress, a slow, careful process, unbuttoning his shirt, his slacks, pushing them off onto the ground to be dealt with later. He holds onto his loose tie, though, climbing onto the bed and neatly looping the fabric around Kurt's wrists, tying them together and pushing them up above their head. "Hold it there," he commands simply, knowing that they'll obey. Or -- well, they'll try.
Because the next thing Corrigan does is slide back down the bed, hook those long, trembling legs over his shoulders and take their cock in his mouth, swallowing them down easily, one hand pressing firmly on their stomach so they can't squirm away. He doesn't waste a moment, doesn't build back up to the torturous, intense feeling, just immediately starts pushing Kurt back towards that peak they only just left, tongue curling around their spent length and coaxing it into hardness again.
Kurt lets him tie their hands together without protest, the restraints coming as naturally as anything. They're still reeling from his drawn-out torturous tonguing, still awed by the beauty of the man undressing before them, his gorgeous body revealed inch by inch. They idly wonder if Molloy feels as dizzy and awed as they do now, when he watches them undress on stream. It's a goddamn religious experience.
So is that mouth, hot and wet and sinful as it descends on their cock, luring a shrill cry from the bound streamer. They can't even squirm away or buck up against him, those big hands holding them firmly in place. All they can do is lay there and take it as he sucks them off, already getting hard again against his tongue.
"S-Sir! Daddy, please, pleasepleasepleeease!" they cry, toes curling against his back, hips fruitlessly rocking up into his face. Kurt completely forgets they're supposed to keep their bound hands above their head, too caught up in all the too-much too-fast too-good to think, and reaches down to tangle their twitching fingers in his hair.
So disobedient, already, tsk tsk. Corrigan let's it go -- for the moment -- too caught up in the way Kurt tastes, the snag of their delicate fingers in his hair, the way their cock twitches and fills against his tongue. He swallows around them, pulls back, teasing the leaking head with the tip of his tongue. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, curls loose and messy around Kurt's fingers as he looks up.
"Your choice," he manages, hand coming up to pump slowly at Kurt's cock. "Come in my mouth or come from me inside you." His mouth is slick, wet, grinning. "Either way, last time you're allowed. After that, you don't come til I do. Understand?" Corrigan turns, presses his lips at the shivering inside of Kurt's thigh, knowing that either way is torturous -- either a quick release now, followed by having to hold back for god knows how long, or vice-versa.
"Last t-time?" Now that's just unfair. That's just a crying shame. The first time Kurt meets the man who's captivated their thoughts for months on end, the only viewer they let get away with anything, and he's already testing their limits right to the breaking point, just like he does on stream.
It's the hottest fucking thing they've ever experienced.
Kurt knows what the right answer is, of course, but they're sorely tempted to take the easy way out and come down his throat right now. His mouth is sinfully good, teasing them perfectly, that tongue driving them out of their mind. And the worst part is that he knows it. He grins up at them, even as he's slick with them, teasing the head of their cock with slow passes of his wicked tongue, like he's enjoying some candy.
Tightening their fingers in his hair, hands still bound by his expertly tied tie, Kurt whines before making a choice they're sure they'll regret in about a minute's time: "I— I wanna come from you inside me, D-Daddy," they say, blushing scarlet. "Please, Daddy, l-let me come on your cock."
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no subject
But they're decidedly not in control now. It's always different when another person gets involved, sure, but none of their other conquests ever pushed and pushed and pushed the way Molloy does. Kurt goes from gasping to moaning to whimpering within minutes, every breath sharp and tinged with desperation, their fingers clenching so hard into the sheets they might just rip. He doesn't even let them come down from that high, just pushes them further and further into overstimulated bliss.
They don't stop him from pushing his fingers into their mouth, instead hungrily sucking down their own spend, moaning loudly at the taste of themself, the humiliation of being degraded like this. It feels so good, even as Molloy punishes their hole with his fingers, pushing against that spot again and again until they see stars. It's almost too much of a good thing.
Almost. Because Molloy is right once again. They're way too stubborn to beg him to stop. Freyja once did a four hour Sybian marathon, for fuck's sake. No way is a man—the most magnetic, captivating, irresistible man they've ever met, with the most sinful tongue and talented fingers—going to break them. "N-No, I— hah—! I can take it, D-Daddy!" they whine around his fingers, words slurring, adamant even as their hips jerk and stutter against his hand, as their spent cock twitches helplessly between their quivering legs.
Give it, like, five minutes.
no subject
That way they can watch him undress, a slow, careful process, unbuttoning his shirt, his slacks, pushing them off onto the ground to be dealt with later. He holds onto his loose tie, though, climbing onto the bed and neatly looping the fabric around Kurt's wrists, tying them together and pushing them up above their head. "Hold it there," he commands simply, knowing that they'll obey. Or -- well, they'll try.
Because the next thing Corrigan does is slide back down the bed, hook those long, trembling legs over his shoulders and take their cock in his mouth, swallowing them down easily, one hand pressing firmly on their stomach so they can't squirm away. He doesn't waste a moment, doesn't build back up to the torturous, intense feeling, just immediately starts pushing Kurt back towards that peak they only just left, tongue curling around their spent length and coaxing it into hardness again.
no subject
So is that mouth, hot and wet and sinful as it descends on their cock, luring a shrill cry from the bound streamer. They can't even squirm away or buck up against him, those big hands holding them firmly in place. All they can do is lay there and take it as he sucks them off, already getting hard again against his tongue.
"S-Sir! Daddy, please, pleasepleasepleeease!" they cry, toes curling against his back, hips fruitlessly rocking up into his face. Kurt completely forgets they're supposed to keep their bound hands above their head, too caught up in all the too-much too-fast too-good to think, and reaches down to tangle their twitching fingers in his hair.
no subject
"Your choice," he manages, hand coming up to pump slowly at Kurt's cock. "Come in my mouth or come from me inside you." His mouth is slick, wet, grinning. "Either way, last time you're allowed. After that, you don't come til I do. Understand?" Corrigan turns, presses his lips at the shivering inside of Kurt's thigh, knowing that either way is torturous -- either a quick release now, followed by having to hold back for god knows how long, or vice-versa.
"Choose wisely, princess."
no subject
It's the hottest fucking thing they've ever experienced.
Kurt knows what the right answer is, of course, but they're sorely tempted to take the easy way out and come down his throat right now. His mouth is sinfully good, teasing them perfectly, that tongue driving them out of their mind. And the worst part is that he knows it. He grins up at them, even as he's slick with them, teasing the head of their cock with slow passes of his wicked tongue, like he's enjoying some candy.
Tightening their fingers in his hair, hands still bound by his expertly tied tie, Kurt whines before making a choice they're sure they'll regret in about a minute's time: "I— I wanna come from you inside me, D-Daddy," they say, blushing scarlet. "Please, Daddy, l-let me come on your cock."