At this rate, with Kurt three climaxes in and still begging him for more, Corrigan might reconsider the firm ban on them coupling with any of the wolf forms -- the pack gets needy and insatiable around the full moon, and the risk of them being too rough or too intense has kept him from allowing this in the past. But considering how well Kurt's taking him -- his cock, his relentless pounding, his near-feral focus, not to mention the overwhelming rush of pleasure flooding them through the pack link -- the Alpha may need to reconsider.
But later. Now he has his beautiful mate beneath him, blood-smeared and bright-eyed and sobbing with pleasure, their small hands clawing at Corrigan's rippling muscles and their sweet voice begging him to breed them. Now there's nothing but them, but Kurt, his beloved, his delight and joy, his soul and their wholehearted acceptance of everything that it means to take his knot, his seed.
The snarl that escapes the Alpha's throat is resonant and all-encompassing as thunder, as he slams his hips forward once, twice, the thick girth of his knot swelling and plunging inside Kurt's tight little body. When he comes, it's with a moaning cry of his mate's name, clutching them closer as he spills inside, pulsing his body down as if trying to push his spend deeper, feeling their belly swell against his. It's like the first time. It's better than the first time.
They don't come again, not so soon after, but they might as well have. Corrigan's pleasure, his devotion and joy and love is so explosive, felt through the link and the way he clutches them when he comes inside, that the sensations may well be Kurt's own. He completely loses himself in their body, and the bliss that follows is rapturous.
Kurt clings to him, panting and whimpering, mouth dripping with their own blood. They can feel their stomach swelling, filling the space between their bodies, as it has so many times before. But it's different now. Now, they fully understand what may follow. Now, they fully anticipate it.
They want it.
"A-Alpha," they moan, heels still digging into his back, refusing to let him go—not like he could pull away just yet, his knot too swollen, firmly locked inside. One of their trembling hands cup their stomach, all rounded and distended with his spend. It feels right. They laugh, breathy and shaky, looking down at themself, fully seeing their own body in this new light. It makes their heart swell in their chest. "I-Is this what I'll look like, Alpha? Carrying your b-baby?"
Corrigan's response is more a growl than words, his whole body shuddering with pleasure he didn't even know was possible. Kurt's always felt incredible, their fragile human body so delightful and mystifying and beautiful, but now that they know, they understand what they can do, what they can help create -- now that he can feel their desire flowing through the link between their souls, their need to have him breed them, the already-wonderful act is somehow heightened, intensified. The Alpha can't even form words, just a silent rush of adoration, of something akin to worship as he glides his tongue over the blood dripping down Kurt's chin, as one clawed hand strokes their cheek, as he rests his forehead to theirs.
The answer is yes, of course, and eventually Corrigan will remember how to weave seductive, filthy words the way only he can. He'll tease his mate gently about how eager they are to get knocked up, to carry his pups, he'll re-learn the delicate sensitivity of their body again and again. He'll share too, of course, even now feeling the rest of the pack draw closer, wanting to be present in this moment. Corrigan's possessiveness of Kurt only extends to those not within his family, any outside forces who wouldn't -- couldn't understand this. How beautiful it is. How rare and precious and divine.
The grass is cool, damp, but Corrigan doesn't let Kurt feel it, cradles them close to him with one arm, seated on his knot, which pulses and pumps inside them, feels the rounded weight of their stomach against his own. He finds his mark on their throat and finally manages to speak against it: "Yes. Yes, just like this. Just like this."
Just like this. Kurt laughs again, quiet and wet in the tiny space between them. They never thought hearing something like that would make them feel so happy. Their fingers spread out over their stomach, thumb caressing the swelling, and they allow themself this time before Alpha's knot goes down to daydream. They'll look just like this, all the time, their hair braided and their skin glowing and their pack doting on them every hour of the day. They imagine kids—their kids—running circles around them all, as rambunctious and free as the pack, laughing loudly as they play.
Kurt wants that life. They want to be surrounded by their loving mates and their gorgeous pups, ones that look like each of them, all with Kurt's eyes or nose or lopsided smile. More than anything, they want their children to grow up free, never knowing the fear that they themself was subjected to.
They know that's the life they'll have. All of them. They don't even realize they're crying before Benji's shaky hand is on their cheek, wiping the tears away. "A-Are you okay?"
"Yes," they hurry to say, sniffling, looking around to see the whole pack gathered around them. Kurt beams at them all. "I'm j-just so happy. I can't wait to get p-pregnant." It still sounds funny coming out of their mouth, but it just makes them smile all the brighter, embracing their Alpha tightly. No matter what, they're having his babies first. Of course, that doesn't mean the others don't get to contribute. With another soft sniffle, Kurt looks around again, wiggling their hips in Corrigan's lap, around his throbbing cock. "Wh-Who's next?"
Corrigan can feel, on some level, that it's been enough -- that this first breeding, with Kurt begging for his pups, with them wholly aware of all the aspects of their new role, had been all that'd be needed. His seed is warm in their belly, and the pack will soon be able to see all the changes that pregnancy would cause in their little mate. Kurt's carrying his baby.
But it definitely doesn't stop him from trying again. And again. And again, his instincts sensing how ready his sweet little human was to have his pups, compelling him to spend as much time as possible knotted inside them. The pack usually takes turns with Kurt, enjoying their insatiable mate's delightful, delicate body, but for the next several days, Corrigan exerts his Alpha role to occupy most of Kurt's time. His brothers understand -- breeding is a full time job -- but eventually convince the Alpha to join the next hunt. Let his wolf side run free for a bit.
Benji is given guard duties, having insisted upon it, eager to prove himself a good protector for Kurt. He stretches out in the sun, wolf-formed, his chin resting on his mate's thigh, ears pricked for any sounds. Being a wolf intensifies the youngest brother's keen senses, making sure he can tell the difference between the return of the pack and any potential threats.
But it also makes him more... easily distracted. A rustle in the bushes has Benji lifting his head, hackles rising at the unfamiliar scent. A low growl rumbles in his chest, eyes narrowing, ready to fight for his mate if need be.
Breeding is a full time job. And while Kurt is both delighted and fulfilled by the work, they're also left exhausted. Every inch of them is pummeled raw, to the point where they have gone through a whole jar of nettle salve ever since Alpha started seriously trying to get them pregnant.
It feels like it's worked though. Kurt can't be sure, not yet, but it really feels like his seed has taken. As they lay in the grass with their youngest mate, one hand at his nape and the other cupping their own stomach, the aches and pains of burgeoning pregnancy doesn't even register over the sheer bliss. They'll start showing soon. They can't wait.
In the combined warmth of the sun and their joy, Kurt has almost fallen asleep when Benji suddenly perks up, startled by something the human can't hear. "Mmmn... musta dozed off. What's happening, sweet-bee?" They scratch behind his ear, rubbing sleep from their eyes. It's only then they notice him growling. "Wait, wh-what's wrong?"
The slight quaver in Kurt's voice is what Benji focuses on immediately, quickly turning to nuzzle his big head against Kurt's chest, the growls softening to whines of affection and reassurance. Don't be scared, little mate, he's going to protect you! A snuffle to Kurt's cheek, then Benji rises to his feet, gaze sharpening again.
The scent is -- wrong. It's sharp, acrid, dangerous, but also...familiar? It's an offensive, bewildering thing, making Benji's eyes water and his teeth bare. It's something bad, he knows that much. He needs to find it and keep it away from his mate. He needs to -- he needs to--!
The young wolf lurches to his feet, stumbles a couple paces towards the woods, then freezes. His instincts are warring, between driving off the enemy and keeping close to Kurt. Whining, Benji turns back towards his mate, then glances towards the scent, ears pinning back. He's torn, confused, he isn't paying attention --
-- which means he doesn't sense the figure stepping closer, the raised weapon, the soft twang of a bowstring, a rush of air. Not until the arrow has buried itself into his hip.
Benji staggers at the sudden impact, air rushing from his lungs, blood immediately welling and gushing from around the smooth shaft of the arrow. His mind races, shocked and bewildred but aware of the figure, the man. The wound is deep, but not near anything fatal, he can stay on his feet, let adrenaline push him to fight, to defeat the enemy, to call for his brothers. He can still protect Kurt. He has to protect Kurt.
But there's a sudden rush of dizziness, a cold flash of his strength leaving his body, his limbs locking, his back arching. A burning, paralyzing sensation, sending him to the ground with a helpless, strangled growl. As the poison acts, spreads through the young wolf's body, Benji manages to look up, to see his assailant step out of the bushes, bow in hand, laughing softly.
"Mmm, no, I didn't really think he'd leave you. The poison was a good backup plan."
"Benji!" The sound of the arrow whistling through the air was bad enough, as was the soft yet firm thwunk of the arrowhead piercing flesh, stopped only by bone. But no sound will ever be as haunting, as awful as the choked little noise Benji makes on his way to the ground. It will stay with them for the rest of their life.
Kurt rushes towards him, heart in their throat, hands trembling as they run over the puppy's defenseless body. He's all tremors, limbs locked and muscles stiff, breath coming ragged through tightly clenched jaws. It doesn't make any sense. It's just an arrow, it shouldn't do this to him.
Unless it's coated in poison. Kurt's gaze flies up towards the unfamiliar voice, the stranger who just shot their mate, leaving him wounded and helpless. He strolls out from past the bushes like it's nothing, laughing, like he didn't just seriously hurt their mate. Even without the bow and arrows, Kurt would've been frightened of him. Something about him, how he sounds, how he moves, isn't right. It's hard to even tell whether he's human or wolf.
"Wh-What did you do to him?" they demand, shoulders tight, eyes stern, even while their stomach is roiling with fear. Their human cowardice insists that they run as fast and far as they can, especially as they realize the stranger came for them. But the wolf in them refuses to abandon their mate, or put their baby at risk by turning their back on a weapon. Kurt will have to be brave for Benji, stern and unyielding, not backing down. "Tell me how t-to cure him."
The man is -- a contradiction, walking. Dark hair, pale eyes, lanky and lean and moving with an odd grace that signals inhuman as clearly as a shout. Yet unlike the wolves, he wears clothes, the unmistakable homespun cloth that can only be found in the human settlements. It doesn't quite fit, a little too baggy, like he'd taken them from someone else, which just adds to his overall wrongness.
And he's smiling. He steps forward, bow in one hand, unblinking eyes fixed on Kurt. Benji might as well not exist to him, neutralized and unable to do more than twitch and choke out strangled whines.
"I've waited a while to make my introductions," he says, like they hadn't spoken, like there's nothing at all amiss. "No doubt the Alpha hasn't. bothered to mention me. I'm Miles." A pause, and he tilts his head to one side, bemused smile, hair falling into his face. "Such an honor to meet Corrigan’s newest favorite."
Kurt is immediately creeped out. There's something unnatural about this man, every part of him somehow wrong or uncanny or threatening. It's like he shouldn't exist, but continues to walk the earth out of sheer spite. Watching him move, hearing him speak, seeing him smile sends cold chills down the little human's spine.
But perhaps the worst thing is how he says Corrigan's name. How he uses his title. Alpha knows this man? Is he part of the pack..? Without thinking, Kurt's fingers tighten in Benji's fur, wide eyes scanning the stranger's form for a claiming mark, but he's almost entirely covered by badly fitting clothes. For the first time in weeks, months, they feel uneasy being naked. They know for a fact the man—wolf—Miles?—can see the bite marks all over their freckled skin. He must know exactly who they are to the pack.
"M-Miles," they manage through tightly clenched teeth, fighting to stay firm rather than give in to the frightened trembling. "Is Benji going to be okay? He's just a p-puppy." God, if this is how Benji dies... Kurt feels their throat closing up. They should've listened closer when Naseer told them about poisons. "I dunno what you want, j-just please tell me how to save him."
Miles can immediately see the appeal -- how can he not? Those big, sweet eyes, all that soft, freckled skin, the little tremor in the human's lilting voice as they try to seem brave by meeting his gaze. Like he can't smell the fear radiating in each movement, thick in the air, how Kurt's new wolfish instincts are screaming at them to flee back to the pack's safe embrace.
But they won't. Because Benji's their mate, his mark is on their body -- which is ludicrous, ridiculous, that a barely-grown pup was permitted to claim them, but Miles has been driven away. It isn't fair. By rights, he should outrank nearly every other member of the pack, should've gotten to claim Kurt before the rest if them. Before Corrigan, if things were truly just.
Time to start setting things right. Miles pulls out a vial from one deep pocket, holding it up to catch the light. "You mean this? I never carry poison without an antidote. That's just good planning." Another weighty pause, then he jerks his head in a beckoning motion. "If you want it, come get it."
He doesn't move forward, still standing across the clearing, meaning that Kurt will need to stand and approach of their own volition. They'll need to willingly put themselves into his reach, against every instinct that screams at them to stay away.
This is a trick. It's a trick, it's a trick, it's a trick.
Every inch of them, wolf and human both, is screaming for them to get away. There's no way this Miles person, no matter who he is, no matter what his intentions are, will just give them the antidote and expect nothing back. As soon as they leave Benji's side, they're in mortal danger. They know that. They should dart back into the forest and run, weave through the trees and book it home as fast as humanly possible.
But they also know that anything humanly possible is child's play to a wolf. He can outrun them. He can track their scent. He can tear them to pieces. And then who will be left to make sure Benji is okay? If anything happens to Benji, or to the baby, the whole pack will fall apart. Kurt can't go on living knowing that—if they even get to live to see it.
"P-Promise me," they say, clinging to that thread of bravery as they rise to stand, but feeling it fraying with every passing second. Their knees are buckling. Benji whines underneath them, behind them as they take a few tentative steps forward. "You have to promise he'll be okay." Of course they can't trust his word, of course they can't, but what other choice do they have? Kurt reaches out a hand, barely able to breathe.
Of course it's a trap. They all know it's a trap. Miles knows, Benji knows, Kurt knows. It's known that the second the little human is close enough to reach out, that Miles is going to pull back the antidote, grab their wrist and yank them closer, rough enough to nearly pull them off their feet, that he's going to hold on tight with the inhuman power that's unmistakably wolf. And that's exactly what he does, fingers reaching easily around Kurt's slender wrist, a pleased growl rumbling in his chest at the feel of them, their scent so close, after weeks of chasing it through the forest.
Barely conscious, Benji still lurches half-up, snarls brokenly, eyes bleary as he tries to force himself to his feet. The growls are pained, but he's still trying, shaking his head violently like that'll expel the poison somehow. Miles clicks his tongue, arm snaking around Kurt, keeping them pulled close. "Don't be a hero, puppy. You know what I can do."
Then, looking down at the terrified little human, he's all softness, a gentle smile, even as he tucks the antidote back in his pocket and smooths their hair back from their face. "See, isn't this much better than shouting across a clearing? Everyone else in the pack has gotten a turn to be up close and personal with you. It's only fair I do too."
They cry out as soon as Miles grabs hold of them, with pain more than surprise—part of them had expected exactly this would happen, but they forget just how strong wolves are. Goes to show how gentle and careful the pack has been with them, if one wolf's grip can hurt this much, the bones in their wrist straining and creaking and grinding together.
But they don't fight him much. After the initial struggle, Kurt's muscle memory kicks in, and they remember all the times they've been grabbed hold of and flung around before. Father never cradled them so close, the way Miles does, never stroked their hair with such a perplexingly gentle smile on his face, but still. Violence is violence. They've survived violence before.
What really shatters them is Benji's cries from behind them, stoking that bone-deep terror. They know they have to get the antidote for him. If that means giving Miles whatever he wants, then...
"F-Fair? You're p-part of the pack..?" He's not. If he ever was, he's certainly not anymore. Kurt can't smell Corrigan on him at all. Shuddering, knowing what they have to do, they permit his touch, fighting the nausea and tears as this vile stranger gets comfortable with them. "P-Please... Miles, r-right? Whatever you want from m-me, you can have it. Anything. I'll give it t-to you. Just please, don't let Benji die. I'm b-begging you."
"So loyal, already," Miles murmurs, ignoring the pup's pained, snarling sounds, his attempts to stagger upright, to fight. It had been stupid of Corrigan to leave his precious little mate alone with a scrawny youngster like this, and Miles is a firm believer in consequences. That had been the beginning of the end, when he'd implied that certain members of the pack were growing too...comfortable, not fully respecting the Alpha’s authority. A Beta was meant to submit, to take orders, not make them, after all. Corrigan hadn't taken kindly to that suggestion, or any of the ones that followed.
And now the outcome of those foolish choices: the pack's prized, beloved, stolen mate, with Corrigan’s whelp in their belly, unprotected and unguarded. Such a shame. "If I were in charge, I wouldn't have left your side, you know," Miles almost purrs, cradling Kurt's pretty face on one hand, savoring the scent of their fear. "You'd think Corrigan would've learned that by now, but it just goes to show -- one whore is just like any other."
A pause, then he arches both eyebrows, feigning surprise. "You have to know you aren't the first, right? Why else would you offer yourself so -- easily to me? You know you're replaceable, just a warm body for the pack to use for a time, until they're bored. Then it'll be time to move on, and what'll happen to you then?" Miles strokes his thumb along Kurt's cheek, traces the line of sun-kissed freckles.
"You poor little thing. Did you really think you were special?"
His words hit them like physical blows, but somehow they hurt so much worse. Kurt's stomach drops right through them, blood turning ice cold in their veins, breath stabbing their lungs. They're not special? They weren't the first one..? No... No, that can't be true, that doesn't make any sense. Corrigan would've told them, right? If not him, then Naseer, or Kai, or Leo, or poor Benji, they wouldn't just all lie to them like that. Kurt is their first and only mate, that's... it has to be the case. That's what they told them. They wouldn't lie to them.
Miles would. He must have every reason to lie, to say things just to scare them or hurt them. He's an outsider with a grudge! He scared them, he tricked them, he hurt Benji! Why wouldn't he be a liar too?
Except... he says it with the utmost confidence. The words leave him so easily, like he's speaking from experience. Like he too would cast mates aside when he was part of the pack, discarding their broken toys for others to play with. Like he too was once cast aside.
"... y-you're lying." They say that, but the words ring hollow, their throat closing up, eyes burning. Without thinking, Kurt wraps an arm protectively around their belly. "They w-wouldn't... I'm not a wh-whore," they cringe, the word painful on their tongue, "I'm their mate. They wouldn't d-do that!"
"Are you sure?" It's said softly, almost gently. Like it hurts Miles to say it, but he feels compelled to speak the truth. He strokes back Kurt's hair, the touch impossibly careful and soft, especially in comparison to how tightly he'd grabbed their wrist moments before. "They didn't tell you about me, did they?"
He lets it hang in the air, heavy, impossible to deny. Then Miles reaches up, tugs aside his shirt collar to reveal his neck -- pale, smooth, unmarked except for a very familiar bite where his shoulder slopes down. The scar is old, years old, but it's unmistakably Corrigan’s, a perfect copy of the one on Kurt's own neck.
"If he could get rid of me, he can get rid of you, little one." Letting his collar go, Miles slides both arms around Kurt, tugging them close, a mockery of comfort, nuzzling into their hair. "You can get out now, sweetheart. You can escape before it's too late. Before they ruin you. Before they get bored."
... They didn't tell them about Miles. Seeing Corrigan's mark on his skin, the very same as their own, makes it even harder to deny. The pack hasn't been honest with them. Alpha hasn't been honest with them. They're pregnant with his child, and he's keeping things from them.
For as frightening and threatening as Miles is, for as much damage as he's done, there's no denying that claiming scar. He was abandoned. Cast aside. Would Alpha let that happen to them too? Would he ruin them? Knock them up and throw when away when he's bored?
But still... even as they wrestle with brand new fears and paranoid doubts, Kurt just can't forget the thrills and genuine joys of the last few months with the pack. They can't deny having felt special for the first time in their life. And they can't bring themself to believe sweet Benji knew what was happening. There's just no way. They shudder, all fear and revulsion and betrayal, fighting back tears as Miles embraces them.
"P-Please... Just p-please leave the antidote for Benji." Kurt feels sick, torn between two worlds, too hurt to see the real truth. "He's j-just a puppy, he d-doesn't deserve this..."
"Of course, of course," Miles coos gently, hands smoothing up and down Kurt's narrow back, taking advantage of their fraught state to enjoy the feel of them trembling in his arms. "I'll leave it for him, he'll wake up tomorrow with a bad headache, but he'll be just fine."
Cool fingers coming to cup Kurt's chin, Miles forces their gaze upwards, smirking deeper at the pain in their eyes. Could it really be this easy? Could he truly get away without having to face his old Alpha? "And in return, you'll come with me. I'll look after you. You can forget about everything that's happened. You can go home, Kurt."
No. The emotion, intense and focused and ferocious, rippling through the link, starles Miles momentarily -- that had been the cruelest, when that harmony, that sense of belonging, that connection had been closed off to him forever. If he was getting anything through it, it meant the wolf responsible was forcing him to hear. It was Benji.
Impossibly, absurdly, the young wolf was staggering to his feet, blood caked along his side, breath raspy and desperate, pupils dilated from the poison. But he still stood, shuddering all over, and bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. He shouldn't be able to. He shouldn't even be able to breathe.
At least they succeeded. Benji won't die today. Miles' words make their stomach roil, twisting up in knots nearly too tight to breathe—they don't want to go with Miles, they don't want to go home, just as badly as they don't want to return to a lying Alpha. But at least Benji will be okay. They'll do what they have to so the pup will be safe, even if it means going with this man, this stranger with cold hands and cruel eyes and the soft, gentle words, and giving him what he wants.
But then the pack link shudders with that single intense emotion, cutting through everything else, nearly knocking the little human to the ground. The link is always overwhelming, when they first notice it, but this is something else, feral and near-desperate.
Even Miles felt it. That means the rest of the pack definitely did too.
"B-Baby, please! You're gonna hurt yourself!" they cry, watching in horror as sweet little Benji fights through the poison and the arrow embedded in his hip and snarls at Miles. He can barely stand, barely see, but he still looks moments from lunging for his throat. That must be so, so painful. It's sheer protective instinct that makes Kurt twist around in Miles' arms, trying to break out of his grasp so they can run to his side, not thinking that perhaps the stranger won't let them.
For a brief moment, Miles doesn't -- he tightens his grip, face curling in a snarl of his own, between indignant and shocked that the pup is back on his feet, even with poison coursing through his veins with every heartbeat. Those cold hands squeeze hard, feeling the delicate bones of Kurt's wrist grinding together, painting bruises into their fair skin. For an instant, Miles is ready to fight back.
But there's an echo of ferocious, murderous rage coming through the link, the pack hearing at last that something is wrong. A lone howl pierces the air, followed by another and another, a chorus of fury coming rapidly closer. And Miles is, at his heart, a coward.
So he releases Kurt, let's them twist away -- almost. In the heartbeat of time he has, he grabs their wrist, wrenches it up to his mouth and bites hard, filling his senses with the sweet taste of their blood. It isn't as deep or careful as a true claiming bite would be, but it's enough. Enough to let Corrigan know how close Miles was, how easily he could've stolen the pack's mate away. How foolish the Alpha had been.
"See you soon, Kurt," Miles murmurs through the mouthful of blood, before slipping back into the woods and out of sight, moments before the pack bursts into the clearing.
Kurt's howl of pain joins the chorus, sharp and distressed, splitting the air apart. Unlike the claiming bites adorning their neck, where the pain had been laced with true euphoria, a sense of belonging, Miles' teeth piercing their flesh is pure agony. His bite is unwanted. They don't belong to him, and yet he demands a piece of them Kurt has not consented to give and cannot take back. It's the worst pain they've ever felt.
They can't tell if the pain is what makes their knees buckle underneath them, or if Miles' threat is what sends them to the ground, but as soon as he lets go of them, they crumble. Sobbing into the grass, Kurt clutches their bleeding wrist, squeezing the wound tightly, hurt and frightened and betrayed twice over.
But they have to push through it. The pack link roars with fury, confusion, terror that's not their own, and Benji, poor Benji, they can feel his anguish, his guilt, and they know they can't let him face it alone. Kurt scrambles on their knees through the grass until they reach the youngest wolf, hands slippery with blood—the wound isn't clotting, why would it, Miles didn't want it to—cradling his snarling face, urging him to look at them. "B-Benji— i-it's okay puppy, it's okay, y-you're gonna be okay— please b-be okay. Naseer!"
The ground shakes as the pack shoots past bushes and trees, bursting into the clearing, finally. Kurt looks distraught, bloodied and weeping, reaching for Naseer, Corrigan, anyone. "He's hurt! P-Please, help him!"
Halfway between wolf and man, Corrigan is hit with too many things at once. The scents -- Kurt's blood, Benji's, the sharp acrid scent of poison and fear and terror, and over it, the bitter smell of his former packmate, something he'd hoped never to experience again. The sounds -- Kurt's helpless, terrified sobs, Benji's helpless whines as he crumples back down, pressing his big bloodied head against his mate's chest with a heavy sigh of relief. The sight, most of all, Corrigan's mate and his brother, both injured, both frightened, both calling out for him too late.
And worst of all, the knowledge that he can't do everything he wants to. He can't eviscerate Miles and help Benji and comfort Kurt at once. He freezes for a fraction of a second, then wrenches his gaze to the side, meets Leo and Kai's, chokes out a stricken: "Find him." The pair leap forward, not wanting to leave their mate any more than Corrigan does, but reveling in the potential chance to eviscerate their tormentor. The two wolves disappear into the brush, hot on Miles's trail, and Corrigan is on his knees, reaching out to gather Kurt close, cradling them to his chest, hand finding the bleeding wound on their arm and squeezing firmly to stop the flow of blood.
"I'm here, I'm here," he murmurs, his chest aching with regret and anguish at their pain. Benji is shivering now, shuddering as the adrenaline leaves his body, leaving it wracked with the poison. Naseer is already breaking off the arrow, leaving the tip embedded until they can safely extract it, putting pressure on the wound. The pup whines softly, big head in Kurt's lap, eyes flicking between his Alpha and mate.
Corrigan moves his free hand to stroke along Benji's cheek, through his bloodied fur, a soft tenderness he rarely shows to the other wolves in every movement. "You did well, you did so well, see? Kurt's safe. They're safe. You did so well, love. You did wonderfully, now let us help you, all right?"
They struggle a little as Corrigan pulls them towards him, away from Benji, but their squirming quickly subsides. The safety of Alpha's embrace soothes even the worst of their fear. Everything else—the upset, the feeling of betrayal—will come when it comes. Right now, Alpha is here to keep them safe. Nothing will hurt them here.
Benji whimpers with pain and relief both, letting his Alpha's tender praise anchor him as Naseer tends to his wound, smelling his blood. "Bush rope," he says, voice tight with barely controlled rage. "Not enough to kill him, but he'll be sick for days. We need to get them both home now." Exactly the kind of firm demand some consider unfit for a Beta to make.
"I t-tried— I tried getting th-the antidote, but he wouldn't... he wouldn't give it to m-me." Kurt sobs softly into Corrigan's chest, exhausted and in pain but so relieved Benji will be okay. "I'm s-sorry, Alpha, I'm sorry, I— I tried..."
Corrigan nods stiffly, already hearing the other two returning at the decision. Miles is long gone, and time wasted chasing after him is time they don't have. Better to draw back to the den, make sure Kurt and Benji are tended to and have time to heal. Later, Corrigan will hunt down Miles himself and tear him open. Slowly, savoring each moment, making him writhe in agony for what he'd done.
The rage bleeds into the link, and Benji whines piteously, so Corrigan let's it go, focusing instead on stroking his hand through Kurt's hair, kissing their forehead and teary cheeks again and again. "It's not your fault, beloved, you did nothing wrong," he murmurs, gently shifting to stand with his mate in his arms. Kai and Leo have reappeared, kneeling down to gently scoop up Benji's shivering frame, though they both pause long enough to rub at Kurt's back, their hair, needing the physical contact to soothe the anxious rage.
The Alpha waits for Naseer to follow suit, for the Beta to press a kiss to the top of the trembling human's head before focusing on Benji. Then he strides towards the cabin, cradling Kurt protectively close, wanting them safe and warm and no longer in pain. Their tears make his heart ache, but Corrigan knows it's better for his sweet mate to let the fear and panic out like this, rather than try to suppress their true feelings.
So he soothes them gently, let's them cling tightly to his broad chest and sob out their terror. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry you had to face him alone. It'll never happen again, love, he's never going to touch you again."
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But later. Now he has his beautiful mate beneath him, blood-smeared and bright-eyed and sobbing with pleasure, their small hands clawing at Corrigan's rippling muscles and their sweet voice begging him to breed them. Now there's nothing but them, but Kurt, his beloved, his delight and joy, his soul and their wholehearted acceptance of everything that it means to take his knot, his seed.
The snarl that escapes the Alpha's throat is resonant and all-encompassing as thunder, as he slams his hips forward once, twice, the thick girth of his knot swelling and plunging inside Kurt's tight little body. When he comes, it's with a moaning cry of his mate's name, clutching them closer as he spills inside, pulsing his body down as if trying to push his spend deeper, feeling their belly swell against his. It's like the first time. It's better than the first time.
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Kurt clings to him, panting and whimpering, mouth dripping with their own blood. They can feel their stomach swelling, filling the space between their bodies, as it has so many times before. But it's different now. Now, they fully understand what may follow. Now, they fully anticipate it.
They want it.
"A-Alpha," they moan, heels still digging into his back, refusing to let him go—not like he could pull away just yet, his knot too swollen, firmly locked inside. One of their trembling hands cup their stomach, all rounded and distended with his spend. It feels right. They laugh, breathy and shaky, looking down at themself, fully seeing their own body in this new light. It makes their heart swell in their chest. "I-Is this what I'll look like, Alpha? Carrying your b-baby?"
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The answer is yes, of course, and eventually Corrigan will remember how to weave seductive, filthy words the way only he can. He'll tease his mate gently about how eager they are to get knocked up, to carry his pups, he'll re-learn the delicate sensitivity of their body again and again. He'll share too, of course, even now feeling the rest of the pack draw closer, wanting to be present in this moment. Corrigan's possessiveness of Kurt only extends to those not within his family, any outside forces who wouldn't -- couldn't understand this. How beautiful it is. How rare and precious and divine.
The grass is cool, damp, but Corrigan doesn't let Kurt feel it, cradles them close to him with one arm, seated on his knot, which pulses and pumps inside them, feels the rounded weight of their stomach against his own. He finds his mark on their throat and finally manages to speak against it: "Yes. Yes, just like this. Just like this."
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Kurt wants that life. They want to be surrounded by their loving mates and their gorgeous pups, ones that look like each of them, all with Kurt's eyes or nose or lopsided smile. More than anything, they want their children to grow up free, never knowing the fear that they themself was subjected to.
They know that's the life they'll have. All of them. They don't even realize they're crying before Benji's shaky hand is on their cheek, wiping the tears away. "A-Are you okay?"
"Yes," they hurry to say, sniffling, looking around to see the whole pack gathered around them. Kurt beams at them all. "I'm j-just so happy. I can't wait to get p-pregnant." It still sounds funny coming out of their mouth, but it just makes them smile all the brighter, embracing their Alpha tightly. No matter what, they're having his babies first. Of course, that doesn't mean the others don't get to contribute. With another soft sniffle, Kurt looks around again, wiggling their hips in Corrigan's lap, around his throbbing cock. "Wh-Who's next?"
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But it definitely doesn't stop him from trying again. And again. And again, his instincts sensing how ready his sweet little human was to have his pups, compelling him to spend as much time as possible knotted inside them. The pack usually takes turns with Kurt, enjoying their insatiable mate's delightful, delicate body, but for the next several days, Corrigan exerts his Alpha role to occupy most of Kurt's time. His brothers understand -- breeding is a full time job -- but eventually convince the Alpha to join the next hunt. Let his wolf side run free for a bit.
Benji is given guard duties, having insisted upon it, eager to prove himself a good protector for Kurt. He stretches out in the sun, wolf-formed, his chin resting on his mate's thigh, ears pricked for any sounds. Being a wolf intensifies the youngest brother's keen senses, making sure he can tell the difference between the return of the pack and any potential threats.
But it also makes him more... easily distracted. A rustle in the bushes has Benji lifting his head, hackles rising at the unfamiliar scent. A low growl rumbles in his chest, eyes narrowing, ready to fight for his mate if need be.
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It feels like it's worked though. Kurt can't be sure, not yet, but it really feels like his seed has taken. As they lay in the grass with their youngest mate, one hand at his nape and the other cupping their own stomach, the aches and pains of burgeoning pregnancy doesn't even register over the sheer bliss. They'll start showing soon. They can't wait.
In the combined warmth of the sun and their joy, Kurt has almost fallen asleep when Benji suddenly perks up, startled by something the human can't hear. "Mmmn... musta dozed off. What's happening, sweet-bee?" They scratch behind his ear, rubbing sleep from their eyes. It's only then they notice him growling. "Wait, wh-what's wrong?"
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The scent is -- wrong. It's sharp, acrid, dangerous, but also...familiar? It's an offensive, bewildering thing, making Benji's eyes water and his teeth bare. It's something bad, he knows that much. He needs to find it and keep it away from his mate. He needs to -- he needs to--!
The young wolf lurches to his feet, stumbles a couple paces towards the woods, then freezes. His instincts are warring, between driving off the enemy and keeping close to Kurt. Whining, Benji turns back towards his mate, then glances towards the scent, ears pinning back. He's torn, confused, he isn't paying attention --
-- which means he doesn't sense the figure stepping closer, the raised weapon, the soft twang of a bowstring, a rush of air. Not until the arrow has buried itself into his hip.
Benji staggers at the sudden impact, air rushing from his lungs, blood immediately welling and gushing from around the smooth shaft of the arrow. His mind races, shocked and bewildred but aware of the figure, the man. The wound is deep, but not near anything fatal, he can stay on his feet, let adrenaline push him to fight, to defeat the enemy, to call for his brothers. He can still protect Kurt. He has to protect Kurt.
But there's a sudden rush of dizziness, a cold flash of his strength leaving his body, his limbs locking, his back arching. A burning, paralyzing sensation, sending him to the ground with a helpless, strangled growl. As the poison acts, spreads through the young wolf's body, Benji manages to look up, to see his assailant step out of the bushes, bow in hand, laughing softly.
"Mmm, no, I didn't really think he'd leave you. The poison was a good backup plan."
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Kurt rushes towards him, heart in their throat, hands trembling as they run over the puppy's defenseless body. He's all tremors, limbs locked and muscles stiff, breath coming ragged through tightly clenched jaws. It doesn't make any sense. It's just an arrow, it shouldn't do this to him.
Unless it's coated in poison. Kurt's gaze flies up towards the unfamiliar voice, the stranger who just shot their mate, leaving him wounded and helpless. He strolls out from past the bushes like it's nothing, laughing, like he didn't just seriously hurt their mate. Even without the bow and arrows, Kurt would've been frightened of him. Something about him, how he sounds, how he moves, isn't right. It's hard to even tell whether he's human or wolf.
"Wh-What did you do to him?" they demand, shoulders tight, eyes stern, even while their stomach is roiling with fear. Their human cowardice insists that they run as fast and far as they can, especially as they realize the stranger came for them. But the wolf in them refuses to abandon their mate, or put their baby at risk by turning their back on a weapon. Kurt will have to be brave for Benji, stern and unyielding, not backing down. "Tell me how t-to cure him."
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And he's smiling. He steps forward, bow in one hand, unblinking eyes fixed on Kurt. Benji might as well not exist to him, neutralized and unable to do more than twitch and choke out strangled whines.
"I've waited a while to make my introductions," he says, like they hadn't spoken, like there's nothing at all amiss. "No doubt the Alpha hasn't. bothered to mention me. I'm Miles." A pause, and he tilts his head to one side, bemused smile, hair falling into his face. "Such an honor to meet Corrigan’s newest favorite."
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But perhaps the worst thing is how he says Corrigan's name. How he uses his title. Alpha knows this man? Is he part of the pack..? Without thinking, Kurt's fingers tighten in Benji's fur, wide eyes scanning the stranger's form for a claiming mark, but he's almost entirely covered by badly fitting clothes. For the first time in weeks, months, they feel uneasy being naked. They know for a fact the man—wolf—Miles?—can see the bite marks all over their freckled skin. He must know exactly who they are to the pack.
"M-Miles," they manage through tightly clenched teeth, fighting to stay firm rather than give in to the frightened trembling. "Is Benji going to be okay? He's just a p-puppy." God, if this is how Benji dies... Kurt feels their throat closing up. They should've listened closer when Naseer told them about poisons. "I dunno what you want, j-just please tell me how to save him."
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But they won't. Because Benji's their mate, his mark is on their body -- which is ludicrous, ridiculous, that a barely-grown pup was permitted to claim them, but Miles has been driven away. It isn't fair. By rights, he should outrank nearly every other member of the pack, should've gotten to claim Kurt before the rest if them. Before Corrigan, if things were truly just.
Time to start setting things right. Miles pulls out a vial from one deep pocket, holding it up to catch the light. "You mean this? I never carry poison without an antidote. That's just good planning." Another weighty pause, then he jerks his head in a beckoning motion. "If you want it, come get it."
He doesn't move forward, still standing across the clearing, meaning that Kurt will need to stand and approach of their own volition. They'll need to willingly put themselves into his reach, against every instinct that screams at them to stay away.
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Every inch of them, wolf and human both, is screaming for them to get away. There's no way this Miles person, no matter who he is, no matter what his intentions are, will just give them the antidote and expect nothing back. As soon as they leave Benji's side, they're in mortal danger. They know that. They should dart back into the forest and run, weave through the trees and book it home as fast as humanly possible.
But they also know that anything humanly possible is child's play to a wolf. He can outrun them. He can track their scent. He can tear them to pieces. And then who will be left to make sure Benji is okay? If anything happens to Benji, or to the baby, the whole pack will fall apart. Kurt can't go on living knowing that—if they even get to live to see it.
"P-Promise me," they say, clinging to that thread of bravery as they rise to stand, but feeling it fraying with every passing second. Their knees are buckling. Benji whines underneath them, behind them as they take a few tentative steps forward. "You have to promise he'll be okay." Of course they can't trust his word, of course they can't, but what other choice do they have? Kurt reaches out a hand, barely able to breathe.
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Barely conscious, Benji still lurches half-up, snarls brokenly, eyes bleary as he tries to force himself to his feet. The growls are pained, but he's still trying, shaking his head violently like that'll expel the poison somehow. Miles clicks his tongue, arm snaking around Kurt, keeping them pulled close. "Don't be a hero, puppy. You know what I can do."
Then, looking down at the terrified little human, he's all softness, a gentle smile, even as he tucks the antidote back in his pocket and smooths their hair back from their face. "See, isn't this much better than shouting across a clearing? Everyone else in the pack has gotten a turn to be up close and personal with you. It's only fair I do too."
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But they don't fight him much. After the initial struggle, Kurt's muscle memory kicks in, and they remember all the times they've been grabbed hold of and flung around before. Father never cradled them so close, the way Miles does, never stroked their hair with such a perplexingly gentle smile on his face, but still. Violence is violence. They've survived violence before.
What really shatters them is Benji's cries from behind them, stoking that bone-deep terror. They know they have to get the antidote for him. If that means giving Miles whatever he wants, then...
"F-Fair? You're p-part of the pack..?" He's not. If he ever was, he's certainly not anymore. Kurt can't smell Corrigan on him at all. Shuddering, knowing what they have to do, they permit his touch, fighting the nausea and tears as this vile stranger gets comfortable with them. "P-Please... Miles, r-right? Whatever you want from m-me, you can have it. Anything. I'll give it t-to you. Just please, don't let Benji die. I'm b-begging you."
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And now the outcome of those foolish choices: the pack's prized, beloved, stolen mate, with Corrigan’s whelp in their belly, unprotected and unguarded. Such a shame. "If I were in charge, I wouldn't have left your side, you know," Miles almost purrs, cradling Kurt's pretty face on one hand, savoring the scent of their fear. "You'd think Corrigan would've learned that by now, but it just goes to show -- one whore is just like any other."
A pause, then he arches both eyebrows, feigning surprise. "You have to know you aren't the first, right? Why else would you offer yourself so -- easily to me? You know you're replaceable, just a warm body for the pack to use for a time, until they're bored. Then it'll be time to move on, and what'll happen to you then?" Miles strokes his thumb along Kurt's cheek, traces the line of sun-kissed freckles.
"You poor little thing. Did you really think you were special?"
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His words hit them like physical blows, but somehow they hurt so much worse. Kurt's stomach drops right through them, blood turning ice cold in their veins, breath stabbing their lungs. They're not special? They weren't the first one..? No... No, that can't be true, that doesn't make any sense. Corrigan would've told them, right? If not him, then Naseer, or Kai, or Leo, or poor Benji, they wouldn't just all lie to them like that. Kurt is their first and only mate, that's... it has to be the case. That's what they told them. They wouldn't lie to them.
Miles would. He must have every reason to lie, to say things just to scare them or hurt them. He's an outsider with a grudge! He scared them, he tricked them, he hurt Benji! Why wouldn't he be a liar too?
Except... he says it with the utmost confidence. The words leave him so easily, like he's speaking from experience. Like he too would cast mates aside when he was part of the pack, discarding their broken toys for others to play with. Like he too was once cast aside.
"... y-you're lying." They say that, but the words ring hollow, their throat closing up, eyes burning. Without thinking, Kurt wraps an arm protectively around their belly. "They w-wouldn't... I'm not a wh-whore," they cringe, the word painful on their tongue, "I'm their mate. They wouldn't d-do that!"
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He lets it hang in the air, heavy, impossible to deny. Then Miles reaches up, tugs aside his shirt collar to reveal his neck -- pale, smooth, unmarked except for a very familiar bite where his shoulder slopes down. The scar is old, years old, but it's unmistakably Corrigan’s, a perfect copy of the one on Kurt's own neck.
"If he could get rid of me, he can get rid of you, little one." Letting his collar go, Miles slides both arms around Kurt, tugging them close, a mockery of comfort, nuzzling into their hair. "You can get out now, sweetheart. You can escape before it's too late. Before they ruin you. Before they get bored."
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For as frightening and threatening as Miles is, for as much damage as he's done, there's no denying that claiming scar. He was abandoned. Cast aside. Would Alpha let that happen to them too? Would he ruin them? Knock them up and throw when away when he's bored?
But still... even as they wrestle with brand new fears and paranoid doubts, Kurt just can't forget the thrills and genuine joys of the last few months with the pack. They can't deny having felt special for the first time in their life. And they can't bring themself to believe sweet Benji knew what was happening. There's just no way. They shudder, all fear and revulsion and betrayal, fighting back tears as Miles embraces them.
"P-Please... Just p-please leave the antidote for Benji." Kurt feels sick, torn between two worlds, too hurt to see the real truth. "He's j-just a puppy, he d-doesn't deserve this..."
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Cool fingers coming to cup Kurt's chin, Miles forces their gaze upwards, smirking deeper at the pain in their eyes. Could it really be this easy? Could he truly get away without having to face his old Alpha? "And in return, you'll come with me. I'll look after you. You can forget about everything that's happened. You can go home, Kurt."
No. The emotion, intense and focused and ferocious, rippling through the link, starles Miles momentarily -- that had been the cruelest, when that harmony, that sense of belonging, that connection had been closed off to him forever. If he was getting anything through it, it meant the wolf responsible was forcing him to hear. It was Benji.
Impossibly, absurdly, the young wolf was staggering to his feet, blood caked along his side, breath raspy and desperate, pupils dilated from the poison. But he still stood, shuddering all over, and bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. He shouldn't be able to. He shouldn't even be able to breathe.
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But then the pack link shudders with that single intense emotion, cutting through everything else, nearly knocking the little human to the ground. The link is always overwhelming, when they first notice it, but this is something else, feral and near-desperate.
Even Miles felt it. That means the rest of the pack definitely did too.
"B-Baby, please! You're gonna hurt yourself!" they cry, watching in horror as sweet little Benji fights through the poison and the arrow embedded in his hip and snarls at Miles. He can barely stand, barely see, but he still looks moments from lunging for his throat. That must be so, so painful. It's sheer protective instinct that makes Kurt twist around in Miles' arms, trying to break out of his grasp so they can run to his side, not thinking that perhaps the stranger won't let them.
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But there's an echo of ferocious, murderous rage coming through the link, the pack hearing at last that something is wrong. A lone howl pierces the air, followed by another and another, a chorus of fury coming rapidly closer. And Miles is, at his heart, a coward.
So he releases Kurt, let's them twist away -- almost. In the heartbeat of time he has, he grabs their wrist, wrenches it up to his mouth and bites hard, filling his senses with the sweet taste of their blood. It isn't as deep or careful as a true claiming bite would be, but it's enough. Enough to let Corrigan know how close Miles was, how easily he could've stolen the pack's mate away. How foolish the Alpha had been.
"See you soon, Kurt," Miles murmurs through the mouthful of blood, before slipping back into the woods and out of sight, moments before the pack bursts into the clearing.
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They can't tell if the pain is what makes their knees buckle underneath them, or if Miles' threat is what sends them to the ground, but as soon as he lets go of them, they crumble. Sobbing into the grass, Kurt clutches their bleeding wrist, squeezing the wound tightly, hurt and frightened and betrayed twice over.
But they have to push through it. The pack link roars with fury, confusion, terror that's not their own, and Benji, poor Benji, they can feel his anguish, his guilt, and they know they can't let him face it alone. Kurt scrambles on their knees through the grass until they reach the youngest wolf, hands slippery with blood—the wound isn't clotting, why would it, Miles didn't want it to—cradling his snarling face, urging him to look at them. "B-Benji— i-it's okay puppy, it's okay, y-you're gonna be okay— please b-be okay. Naseer!"
The ground shakes as the pack shoots past bushes and trees, bursting into the clearing, finally. Kurt looks distraught, bloodied and weeping, reaching for Naseer, Corrigan, anyone. "He's hurt! P-Please, help him!"
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And worst of all, the knowledge that he can't do everything he wants to. He can't eviscerate Miles and help Benji and comfort Kurt at once. He freezes for a fraction of a second, then wrenches his gaze to the side, meets Leo and Kai's, chokes out a stricken: "Find him." The pair leap forward, not wanting to leave their mate any more than Corrigan does, but reveling in the potential chance to eviscerate their tormentor. The two wolves disappear into the brush, hot on Miles's trail, and Corrigan is on his knees, reaching out to gather Kurt close, cradling them to his chest, hand finding the bleeding wound on their arm and squeezing firmly to stop the flow of blood.
"I'm here, I'm here," he murmurs, his chest aching with regret and anguish at their pain. Benji is shivering now, shuddering as the adrenaline leaves his body, leaving it wracked with the poison. Naseer is already breaking off the arrow, leaving the tip embedded until they can safely extract it, putting pressure on the wound. The pup whines softly, big head in Kurt's lap, eyes flicking between his Alpha and mate.
Corrigan moves his free hand to stroke along Benji's cheek, through his bloodied fur, a soft tenderness he rarely shows to the other wolves in every movement. "You did well, you did so well, see? Kurt's safe. They're safe. You did so well, love. You did wonderfully, now let us help you, all right?"
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Benji whimpers with pain and relief both, letting his Alpha's tender praise anchor him as Naseer tends to his wound, smelling his blood. "Bush rope," he says, voice tight with barely controlled rage. "Not enough to kill him, but he'll be sick for days. We need to get them both home now." Exactly the kind of firm demand some consider unfit for a Beta to make.
"I t-tried— I tried getting th-the antidote, but he wouldn't... he wouldn't give it to m-me." Kurt sobs softly into Corrigan's chest, exhausted and in pain but so relieved Benji will be okay. "I'm s-sorry, Alpha, I'm sorry, I— I tried..."
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The rage bleeds into the link, and Benji whines piteously, so Corrigan let's it go, focusing instead on stroking his hand through Kurt's hair, kissing their forehead and teary cheeks again and again. "It's not your fault, beloved, you did nothing wrong," he murmurs, gently shifting to stand with his mate in his arms. Kai and Leo have reappeared, kneeling down to gently scoop up Benji's shivering frame, though they both pause long enough to rub at Kurt's back, their hair, needing the physical contact to soothe the anxious rage.
The Alpha waits for Naseer to follow suit, for the Beta to press a kiss to the top of the trembling human's head before focusing on Benji. Then he strides towards the cabin, cradling Kurt protectively close, wanting them safe and warm and no longer in pain. Their tears make his heart ache, but Corrigan knows it's better for his sweet mate to let the fear and panic out like this, rather than try to suppress their true feelings.
So he soothes them gently, let's them cling tightly to his broad chest and sob out their terror. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry you had to face him alone. It'll never happen again, love, he's never going to touch you again."
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