You’re supposed to be happy on your wedding day, aren’t you? Or at the very least nervous. But as Kurt examines themself in the mirror comprising one wall of their woefully empty bridal suite, they don’t feel much of anything. Only a vague sense of apprehension, a quietly grim acceptance of how their life will be different in about three hours’ time.
Not that anything is going to change, really. Greg gets to call them his “husband” instead of his “fiancé” from now on. They’ll wear a gold ring in place of their silver one. And that’s about it.
Kurt sighs softly, aimlessly adjusting their tie for the fifth time, smoothing their suit down over their chest. At least Greg agreed to let them wear all white today. They may have put all their dresses and skirts and makeup and frilly lingerie away for the more conservatively masculine look Greg prefers, but some things are too important to give up. Their hair is still long, arranged in a simple updo pulled so tight it’ll give them a migraine, their nails are painted in an elegant French tip design, and they get to wear white on their wedding day. Little compromises. That’s what marriage is, right?
The sudden knock at the door brings them back down to earth. Weird. They don’t remember ordering room service. Maybe that comes standard for bridal suites in fancy hotels like this, even for guests without a bridal party. Tearing themself away from the resigned young man in the mirror, Kurt trudges over to the door and gently pulls it open.
For a moment that feels like it lasts forever, they’re too stunned to speak. His name escapes them in a wheeze:] Corrigan..?
[Saying that Corrigan had dreamed of this day would be a lie -- he'd never been one for traditional things like weddings or marriage, after all, not even for tax purposes. But perhaps he'd imagined a more raunchy, R-rated version of things -- some type of commitment, collaring ceremony, culminating in a semi-public display of him bending Kurt over the altar and fucking them senseless.
In said daydream, they'd be wearing lace and satin, clinging fabric that exposed much more than it covered up, lingerie and garters meant to tease and excite, rather than clothe. All in white, of course, in keeping with the blasphemous spirit of the day. Something that could've happened if he hadn't fucked things up.
Corry doesn't say it ended badly, because to him it didn't end. Kurt had screamed at him, kicked him out, told him to never come back, never speak to them again, and for years he'd honored that -- in theory. They'd never been fully out of his watchful gaze, though, his influence insuring they got the best apartment and car and amenities, that they slept peacefully without being harassed or preyed on. They wouldn't be his, but Corrigan would be damned if they weren't safe.
Greg had been a bit of a surprise -- clean enough background, no major skeletons in his closet, decent job, secure and stable. Boring as fuck, but if that's what Kurt wanted, then fine. Corrigan had held back and bit his tongue, resolving to let them live their life alone, in peace.
Until he caught wind they were going to marry the guy. Then no amount of promises or old threats could keep him away. Kurt was a flame Corrigan had never, could never extinguish, and he wasn't about to let them ruin their life with the human equivalent of cardboard.
Now, leaning against the doorway, the years only showing in the slight grey at his temples, Corrigan flashes that same old grin.] Hello to you too, baby.
[They can barely hear him speak over the pounding of their own heart, every shaky breath they take deafening. While they haven’t actually seen Corrigan in years, he’s been a constant presence in their dreams both waking and not ever since that last day, haunting them when they closed their eyes.
They’d thought being with someone as square and clean-cut as Greg would finally rid them of his influence. But as he flashes them that same old grin, when he calls them baby like no time has passed, Kurt feels their knees buckling. The heated stab of wanting in their gut is fucking pavlovian.]
Wh-What are you doing here? You… [Trembling, mouth dry, Kurt stands ramrod still for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then, seemingly snapping back to their senses, they start moving to close the door in his face.] Y-You shouldn’t be here, you need to leave—
[Perhaps it's fucked up of him -- no, scratch that, it's definitely fucked up -- but Corrigan has always loved making Kurt off-balance. He loves surprising them, shocking them, taking that prim, haughty attitude of theirs and reducing them to a needy, whiny mess. He knows damn well that they love the thrill of fear and excitement, as inextricably entwined as the pain and pleasure he always gives them.
So when they move to close the door, Corrigan easily stops it with a hand, leveraging his height and weight against theirs. The smug grin is still on his face as he pushes his way into the hotel room, reaches out and grabs that dumb, drab tie to yank Kurt closer.]
Now, I know it's been a while, princess, but I think I can still tell when you're not being honest with me. [Corrigan kicks the door closed behind him, free hand sliding to Kurt's back, pushing them even closer against his chest.] You don't really want me to leave.
[This should scare the life out of them. A man much bigger than they are is forcing his way into their hotel room on their wedding day. A man from their past, a man whom they parted with on bad terms, is putting his hands on them, grasping their tie and yanking them close, kicking the door closed behind him. This should absolutely terrify them.
It doesn’t. And perhaps that’s most terrifying of all. Corrigan forces them tightly against his chest, and Kurt feels their suit pants getting tight.]
Y-You piece of shit— Let go of me! [They struggle against him, of course, hands finding his chest and pushing… but it’s not a wholehearted effort. And they know Corrigan can tell. Even this many years removed, they still blush bright red, writhing weakly against him, completely unable to resist.] What th-the fuck do you think you’re doing?!
[It's like lighting a fuse. Corrigan remembers how ferocious Kurt can get, how they'll scratch and bite and yell and fight him. How they mean absolutely none of it, not a single word. It had been one of the most thrilling things about being with them, toying with that anger, letting himself feel how bright it burned, they taking full control of Kurt anyway.
And the fact is, if Kurt were to genuinely put a stop to it, call out the safeword, their word, Corrigan would honor it. He'd let go. He'd leave. But he knows damn well they won't, because they're already reacting to his touch, his closeness, his scent. Their body knows him, and it won't let them send him away.
He laughs at the cursing, easily turning the two of them around so Kurt is between him and the door, pinned in place, their stupid stuffy suit already creasing.] There we go, there's your spice. [One big hand slides up into their prim updo, tangling in their hair, tugging strands of it loose.] I knew that stuffy fucker didn't clip your claws entirely.
[That’s the most fucked up part, isn’t it? Kurt instinctively remembers how to act, what to say, where to scratch and shove and claw to keep the fantasy believable. They immediately recall their safeword, right there in their tongue, and they know without a shadow of a doubt that as soon as it’s uttered, Corrigan will turn and leave without another word.
But they both know, deep down, that’s not going to happen.]
I swear to God, I’ll scream so f-fucking loud— [Kurt gasps sharply as they’re pinned against the door, arching against Corrigan’s body without meaning to, shivering as they remember the delicious sting of being pushed and shoved and put in their place by his unforgiving hands. Greg isn’t one for pain or bondage or power play. The kinkiest thing they’ve done since leaving Corrigan is reverse cowgirl. They’ve missed this.
Of course, they can’t admit that. They hiss and snarl and bluster at Corrigan’s touch, even as they shiver from his fingers carding through their hair, his muscled thigh pressing between their legs, letting them rock against him as their eyes burn with frustrated tears.] Sh-Shut up. You don’t know anything about him, he’s— he’s n-not stuffy...
Yeah, you will. [Corrigan almost moans it as he tears more of Kurt's hair free of the restrictive updo, fists his hand in it and yanks their head back, mouth hot against their throat.] I always could make you scream, baby...
[The protest has him pulling back slightly, eyebrow arched, thigh pressing harder between Kurt's legs. There aren't enough layers of fabric to hide that they're turned on, that their body reacted immediately to his familiar touch. But the defense of their fiance has some of the smugness evaporating.] I don't need to know him to see what he's done to you. How he's made you change for him, keep yourself tame and controlled and small.
[Another searing press of his lips against where Kurt's pulse beat wildly, and Corrigan straightens up, meeting their eyes with his dark, intense ones.] Nobody in the world knows you like I do, Kurt. I can see you stifling yourself to keep him happy. And it makes me want to fucking kill him.
[There’s no disguising the moan that spills from Kurt’s lips as anything else. As soon as Corrigan’s fingers wrench their head back by the hair, they shudder and arch and cry with pleasure that they have no hope of denying. It’s a pain they’ve sorely missed.
The pain of his words, however, is one they’d rather be without. It’s an ache more than anything, a dull throbbing in their chest they’ve just learned to live with. Because Corrigan is right. They’ve had to change for Greg.
Kurt meets his eyes, their face flushed and their breath labored, lip curling with the force of their internal conflict. Although he’s right—and they hate how right he is—it’s too hard to outright admit in the face of years spent lying to themself. Even as their hips rock against Corrigan’s thick muscled thigh.] I— I had to grow up. You can’t just ignore your responsibilities a-and do whatever your whole f-fucking life. I’m an adult now, Corrigan, what I do is none of your b-business!
Bullshit. [It comes out in a low, almost-snarl, as Corrigan releases Kurt's hair in favor of cradling their face between his palms. There's a tenderness to his touch, even as he presses them between him and the door, so close he can feel their heart racing beneath the layers of silk.] That's fucking bullshit, Kurt and you know it.
I'm not here because I'm trying to get you to take me back. [A lie, sort of, of course he wants that, craves it, missed them so much it aches. He wants to say that he fucked it up, by not being around as much, by taking them for granted. But more than that, he's here because the hollow-eyed, laced-up, miserable person Kurt has become is so reminiscent of their stories about their youth that it kills him.
He loves them. In his own fucked up, messy, imperfect way, Corrigan loves Kurt, and he can't watch them ruin their life.] I'm here because if you go through with this, you'll regret it forever. Growing up doesn't mean killing everything inside yourself, Kurt. It doesn't need to, at least.
[Softer, meeting their eyes, leaning so far in his forehead touches theirs:] Don’t do this. Don't marry him.
[The fierceness of his response is such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch that it takes Kurt's breath away—even more so than his imposing frame crowding them against the door, the feel and sound and sight and smell of him after all these years completely enveloping them. He doesn't sound smug or mad, the way they expected he would. If anything, he sounds almost hurt.
Part of them wants to ask who the fuck he thinks he is, who gave him the goddamn right to come back like this and start asking things of them again. Part of them wants to get down on their knees and beg to be taken back. To be taken away from all of this. To go back to how things were before. And yet another part wants him to get to the point where he fucks them already.
Corrigan's hands cradling their cheeks catch the tears as they start falling. They still look frustrated and angry with him, but the edges soften now. He pleads with them not to marry Greg, and Kurt feels their heart ache with relief. Like they'd been waiting for his command, his permission to turn their back on the mess they've made of their life.]
... a-and then what? You— Y-You show back up after all this time with your dick and your sad eyes and tell me t-to upend my whole life on my fucking wedding day, and then what? Where do I go, Corrigan? What— What am I supposed to do? [They both know the answer to that. All he has to do is say the word.]
[Corrigan half-smiles, reaching up one hand to start tugging the pins free from Kurt's hair, one by one, letting it tumble loose and silky over their shoulders, breathing in the scent. They use the same shampoo, after all these years. He remembers kissing the back of their shoulder when they crawl back into bed after an early shower for five more minutes of cuddling, remembers their damp hair leaving his pillowcase wet.]
You're supposed to let me make up for lost time, baby. [He cups their chin in his hand, cradles their teary face, leaning in.] You're supposed to let me remind you who you are.
[Corrigan kisses Kurt like coming home, like waking up, like the last five years never happened. Like nothing changed. Like they never left his bed.]
[They don't fight it. Not the tears, not Corrigan freeing their hair, not the kiss when it finally comes. They close their eyes, trembling, sinking into the kiss like no time at all has passed, like the last time he kissed them was this morning instead of five years ago. Like nothing changed.
Kissing Kurt now feels different only in small ways. They don't have their braces anymore, nor the tongue ring, and for the first few moments there's an unfamiliar timidness to how they kiss, like Greg doesn't like to be kissed too hard and they've had to adjust over the years. But it only takes that little moment for Kurt to loop their arms around Corrigan's neck and pull him in close, close, so close, kissing him like their life depends on it.
Because it does. If this doesn't work, then nothing will.] Th-Then show me. Show me who I am.
[Corrigan could handle the small changes -- he can slide his tongue over where the metal stud used to be, can imagine the metallic taste from the braces. But the hesitancy, the near-awkwardness, the unsure way they kiss makes him enraged.
So he doesn't respond to the words, doesn't say anything. Kurt doesn't want his words. Instead Corrigan slides his hand up into their loose hair, wrenches their head back and kisses them again, this time without holding back, with teeth and tongue and all the ferocity he feels.
With his free hand, Corrigan tears at the layers of fabric, not bothering with the buttons, just wrenching the vest, the tie, the shirt open. The clothes aren't nearly high enough quality to resist his near-violent movements, and the fabric gives way, tears loudly.]
[They don’t know what they did to trigger Corrigan’s sudden ferocity, but whatever it was it sure did the trick. One hand suddenly fists into their hair, while the other starts ripping their suit apart, layer by stifling layer, the feeling of fabric violently splitting and tearing against their skin utterly intoxicating. Their flushed, naked chest both writhes and arches against Corrigan’s punishing touch.
Kurt knows how fucked up this is. Greg is waiting for them to meet him at the venue, probably nervous and excited for their big day, for the rest of their lives together. Meanwhile Kurt has their ex-sugar daddy’s tongue in their mouth, his hand ripping their wedding suit to ribbons, and they’ve never been more turned on in their life. They don’t know if it’s the betrayal that does it, or the bride-snatching fantasy, but it’s leaps and bounds more than Greg has ever done for them in the bedroom.]
S-Stop— Please, you c-can’t, we can’t, you have to stop— [It’s not their safe word. They know that. Corrigan knows that. It’s muffled and teary and sobbed desperately against the man’s lips, and they don’t mean a single word of it. It’s all for the fantasy.] P-Please, it hurts—!
Liar. [It's purred, feline and smug and triumphant, against Kurt's sobbing mouth as Corrigan’s hands slide inside the shreds of their suit, finding their bared skin, reacquainting himself with their shape. The vest and jacket are shoved to the floor, leaving Kurt in their torn-open shirt, as Corrigan’s hands move down to unbundled their belt, tear open their pants.]
You love it. You love this, don't you? You love being treated rough, getting your hair pulled, your clothes torn. [He slides a big hand inside Kurt's pants, palm warm and familiar as it closes firmly around their cock, squeezes and gropes. His voice is sweet, poisonous as he bites at their lips, their jawline, their throat.] All this time and you're still a greedy little slut.
[As much as they’ve missed this, being this many years removed has actually made the fantasy so much better. It was always a little hard to give in completely, to feel the wealth of emotion from being roughed up and demeaned and humiliated, back when they shared a bed with their imaginary attacker.
But after years of Greg’s tender if rather matter-of-fact sweet talk, careful kisses, and mechanical lovemaking, this hits exactly where it’s supposed to. Now, when Corrigan squeezes their hard cock and calls them a greedy little slut, Kurt almost comes right on the spot, sobs of pleasure and pain and utter humiliation filling their bridal suite.]
Stop it! Sh-Shut up! That’s not true, y-you’re wrong! [They squirm and struggle against him, shoving at his muscled chest, putting up a very convincing fight for someone who went a little crosseyed when their hair was pulled.] I’m not—!
[Corrigan clicks his tongue in gentle, condescending disapproval, hand still down the front of Kurt’s pants. He can feel each shudder and squirm of pleasure, can see how their words stand in stark contrast to what their body's begging for.]
Is that so? You're a sweet, demure little thing now, is that right? Having fifteen-minute missionary with Greg with the lights out so he can't see how goddamn bored you are?
[He's backing towards the bed now, grabbing Kurt’s arms and dragging them along, pressing them close to his chest so he can purr the next words against their tangled hair, so his hands can freely squeeze and grope their shivering body.] Does he fuck you like I did, baby? Does he make you scream on his cock and sob for more? Has he ever made you feel even a fraction as good as I do?
[Kurt makes a wounded noise at Corrigan’s distressingly accurate words, blushing so bright it hurts, frustrated tears streaking their cheeks. It’s like he’s been there to see every single night of boring, unfulfilling sex they had to put up with, faking their pleasure, making excuses for why Greg couldn’t make them come yet again.
Corrigan knows, and nothing Kurt can say will disprove his words. As they’re pulled bodily towards the bed, stumbling along while pretending to fight him, knowing they’re about to get fucked within an inch of their life almost make the lonely boring nights worth it.]
Sh-Shuddup. He… [they can’t even pretend for a moment that Greg makes them feel good] He doesn’t hurt me. He doesn’t c-call me names. Greg respects me! [They can’t tell which is the bigger lie: Greg respecting them, or that they’re turned off by name-calling and pain.]
[Corrigan doesn't verbally respond, but he does arch both eyebrows as high as they can go, with his most skeptical expression. He knows damn well what that translates to -- Greg treats them like they're fragile, breakable, like something he can put on a shelf when he doesn't want to deal with them anymore.
In all the years he's known Kurt, Corrigan’s never once seen them enjoy being handled with kid gloves. They've always demanded more, harder, faster. They're the strongest, most ferocious person he knows, and they insist on being treated like that.
So he sits on the edge of the bed, tugs Kurt to stand in between his spread legs and looks up at them calmly.] So go. Go find him and tell him all about me. Have me thrown out of here and never worry about being disrespected again. [He releases Kurt's wrists, settles his hands on their hips, starting to ease down their rumpled pants.]
If that's what you really want... [Then he pauses, lifting his chin.] But if you stay, I'm not letting you go again. This is your last chance, baby.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cw: CNC
Date: 2022-11-10 04:51 pm (UTC)You’re supposed to be happy on your wedding day, aren’t you? Or at the very least nervous. But as Kurt examines themself in the mirror comprising one wall of their woefully empty bridal suite, they don’t feel much of anything. Only a vague sense of apprehension, a quietly grim acceptance of how their life will be different in about three hours’ time.
Not that anything is going to change, really. Greg gets to call them his “husband” instead of his “fiancé” from now on. They’ll wear a gold ring in place of their silver one. And that’s about it.
Kurt sighs softly, aimlessly adjusting their tie for the fifth time, smoothing their suit down over their chest. At least Greg agreed to let them wear all white today. They may have put all their dresses and skirts and makeup and frilly lingerie away for the more conservatively masculine look Greg prefers, but some things are too important to give up. Their hair is still long, arranged in a simple updo pulled so tight it’ll give them a migraine, their nails are painted in an elegant French tip design, and they get to wear white on their wedding day. Little compromises. That’s what marriage is, right?
The sudden knock at the door brings them back down to earth. Weird. They don’t remember ordering room service. Maybe that comes standard for bridal suites in fancy hotels like this, even for guests without a bridal party. Tearing themself away from the resigned young man in the mirror, Kurt trudges over to the door and gently pulls it open.
For a moment that feels like it lasts forever, they’re too stunned to speak. His name escapes them in a wheeze:] Corrigan..?
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 03:46 am (UTC)In said daydream, they'd be wearing lace and satin, clinging fabric that exposed much more than it covered up, lingerie and garters meant to tease and excite, rather than clothe. All in white, of course, in keeping with the blasphemous spirit of the day. Something that could've happened if he hadn't fucked things up.
Corry doesn't say it ended badly, because to him it didn't end. Kurt had screamed at him, kicked him out, told him to never come back, never speak to them again, and for years he'd honored that -- in theory. They'd never been fully out of his watchful gaze, though, his influence insuring they got the best apartment and car and amenities, that they slept peacefully without being harassed or preyed on. They wouldn't be his, but Corrigan would be damned if they weren't safe.
Greg had been a bit of a surprise -- clean enough background, no major skeletons in his closet, decent job, secure and stable. Boring as fuck, but if that's what Kurt wanted, then fine. Corrigan had held back and bit his tongue, resolving to let them live their life alone, in peace.
Until he caught wind they were going to marry the guy. Then no amount of promises or old threats could keep him away. Kurt was a flame Corrigan had never, could never extinguish, and he wasn't about to let them ruin their life with the human equivalent of cardboard.
Now, leaning against the doorway, the years only showing in the slight grey at his temples, Corrigan flashes that same old grin.] Hello to you too, baby.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 05:37 am (UTC)They’d thought being with someone as square and clean-cut as Greg would finally rid them of his influence. But as he flashes them that same old grin, when he calls them baby like no time has passed, Kurt feels their knees buckling. The heated stab of wanting in their gut is fucking pavlovian.]
Wh-What are you doing here? You… [Trembling, mouth dry, Kurt stands ramrod still for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then, seemingly snapping back to their senses, they start moving to close the door in his face.] Y-You shouldn’t be here, you need to leave—
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 02:32 pm (UTC)So when they move to close the door, Corrigan easily stops it with a hand, leveraging his height and weight against theirs. The smug grin is still on his face as he pushes his way into the hotel room, reaches out and grabs that dumb, drab tie to yank Kurt closer.]
Now, I know it's been a while, princess, but I think I can still tell when you're not being honest with me. [Corrigan kicks the door closed behind him, free hand sliding to Kurt's back, pushing them even closer against his chest.] You don't really want me to leave.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 04:50 pm (UTC)It doesn’t. And perhaps that’s most terrifying of all. Corrigan forces them tightly against his chest, and Kurt feels their suit pants getting tight.]
Y-You piece of shit— Let go of me! [They struggle against him, of course, hands finding his chest and pushing… but it’s not a wholehearted effort. And they know Corrigan can tell. Even this many years removed, they still blush bright red, writhing weakly against him, completely unable to resist.] What th-the fuck do you think you’re doing?!
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 08:03 pm (UTC)And the fact is, if Kurt were to genuinely put a stop to it, call out the safeword, their word, Corrigan would honor it. He'd let go. He'd leave. But he knows damn well they won't, because they're already reacting to his touch, his closeness, his scent. Their body knows him, and it won't let them send him away.
He laughs at the cursing, easily turning the two of them around so Kurt is between him and the door, pinned in place, their stupid stuffy suit already creasing.] There we go, there's your spice. [One big hand slides up into their prim updo, tangling in their hair, tugging strands of it loose.] I knew that stuffy fucker didn't clip your claws entirely.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 08:45 pm (UTC)But they both know, deep down, that’s not going to happen.]
I swear to God, I’ll scream so f-fucking loud— [Kurt gasps sharply as they’re pinned against the door, arching against Corrigan’s body without meaning to, shivering as they remember the delicious sting of being pushed and shoved and put in their place by his unforgiving hands. Greg isn’t one for pain or bondage or power play. The kinkiest thing they’ve done since leaving Corrigan is reverse cowgirl. They’ve missed this.
Of course, they can’t admit that. They hiss and snarl and bluster at Corrigan’s touch, even as they shiver from his fingers carding through their hair, his muscled thigh pressing between their legs, letting them rock against him as their eyes burn with frustrated tears.] Sh-Shut up. You don’t know anything about him, he’s— he’s n-not stuffy...
no subject
Date: 2022-11-12 12:44 am (UTC)[The protest has him pulling back slightly, eyebrow arched, thigh pressing harder between Kurt's legs. There aren't enough layers of fabric to hide that they're turned on, that their body reacted immediately to his familiar touch. But the defense of their fiance has some of the smugness evaporating.] I don't need to know him to see what he's done to you. How he's made you change for him, keep yourself tame and controlled and small.
[Another searing press of his lips against where Kurt's pulse beat wildly, and Corrigan straightens up, meeting their eyes with his dark, intense ones.] Nobody in the world knows you like I do, Kurt. I can see you stifling yourself to keep him happy. And it makes me want to fucking kill him.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-13 02:16 pm (UTC)The pain of his words, however, is one they’d rather be without. It’s an ache more than anything, a dull throbbing in their chest they’ve just learned to live with. Because Corrigan is right. They’ve had to change for Greg.
Kurt meets his eyes, their face flushed and their breath labored, lip curling with the force of their internal conflict. Although he’s right—and they hate how right he is—it’s too hard to outright admit in the face of years spent lying to themself. Even as their hips rock against Corrigan’s thick muscled thigh.] I— I had to grow up. You can’t just ignore your responsibilities a-and do whatever your whole f-fucking life. I’m an adult now, Corrigan, what I do is none of your b-business!
no subject
Date: 2022-11-13 08:52 pm (UTC)I'm not here because I'm trying to get you to take me back. [A lie, sort of, of course he wants that, craves it, missed them so much it aches. He wants to say that he fucked it up, by not being around as much, by taking them for granted. But more than that, he's here because the hollow-eyed, laced-up, miserable person Kurt has become is so reminiscent of their stories about their youth that it kills him.
He loves them. In his own fucked up, messy, imperfect way, Corrigan loves Kurt, and he can't watch them ruin their life.] I'm here because if you go through with this, you'll regret it forever. Growing up doesn't mean killing everything inside yourself, Kurt. It doesn't need to, at least.
[Softer, meeting their eyes, leaning so far in his forehead touches theirs:] Don’t do this. Don't marry him.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-13 09:42 pm (UTC)Part of them wants to ask who the fuck he thinks he is, who gave him the goddamn right to come back like this and start asking things of them again. Part of them wants to get down on their knees and beg to be taken back. To be taken away from all of this. To go back to how things were before. And yet another part wants him to get to the point where he fucks them already.
Corrigan's hands cradling their cheeks catch the tears as they start falling. They still look frustrated and angry with him, but the edges soften now. He pleads with them not to marry Greg, and Kurt feels their heart ache with relief. Like they'd been waiting for his command, his permission to turn their back on the mess they've made of their life.]
... a-and then what? You— Y-You show back up after all this time with your dick and your sad eyes and tell me t-to upend my whole life on my fucking wedding day, and then what? Where do I go, Corrigan? What— What am I supposed to do? [They both know the answer to that. All he has to do is say the word.]
no subject
Date: 2022-11-13 09:57 pm (UTC)You're supposed to let me make up for lost time, baby. [He cups their chin in his hand, cradles their teary face, leaning in.] You're supposed to let me remind you who you are.
[Corrigan kisses Kurt like coming home, like waking up, like the last five years never happened. Like nothing changed. Like they never left his bed.]
no subject
Date: 2022-11-13 10:12 pm (UTC)Kissing Kurt now feels different only in small ways. They don't have their braces anymore, nor the tongue ring, and for the first few moments there's an unfamiliar timidness to how they kiss, like Greg doesn't like to be kissed too hard and they've had to adjust over the years. But it only takes that little moment for Kurt to loop their arms around Corrigan's neck and pull him in close, close, so close, kissing him like their life depends on it.
Because it does. If this doesn't work, then nothing will.] Th-Then show me. Show me who I am.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-14 12:42 am (UTC)So he doesn't respond to the words, doesn't say anything. Kurt doesn't want his words. Instead Corrigan slides his hand up into their loose hair, wrenches their head back and kisses them again, this time without holding back, with teeth and tongue and all the ferocity he feels.
With his free hand, Corrigan tears at the layers of fabric, not bothering with the buttons, just wrenching the vest, the tie, the shirt open. The clothes aren't nearly high enough quality to resist his near-violent movements, and the fabric gives way, tears loudly.]
no subject
Date: 2022-11-14 07:13 am (UTC)Kurt knows how fucked up this is. Greg is waiting for them to meet him at the venue, probably nervous and excited for their big day, for the rest of their lives together. Meanwhile Kurt has their ex-sugar daddy’s tongue in their mouth, his hand ripping their wedding suit to ribbons, and they’ve never been more turned on in their life. They don’t know if it’s the betrayal that does it, or the bride-snatching fantasy, but it’s leaps and bounds more than Greg has ever done for them in the bedroom.]
S-Stop— Please, you c-can’t, we can’t, you have to stop— [It’s not their safe word. They know that. Corrigan knows that. It’s muffled and teary and sobbed desperately against the man’s lips, and they don’t mean a single word of it. It’s all for the fantasy.] P-Please, it hurts—!
no subject
Date: 2022-11-14 04:21 pm (UTC)You love it. You love this, don't you? You love being treated rough, getting your hair pulled, your clothes torn. [He slides a big hand inside Kurt's pants, palm warm and familiar as it closes firmly around their cock, squeezes and gropes. His voice is sweet, poisonous as he bites at their lips, their jawline, their throat.] All this time and you're still a greedy little slut.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-14 11:59 pm (UTC)But after years of Greg’s tender if rather matter-of-fact sweet talk, careful kisses, and mechanical lovemaking, this hits exactly where it’s supposed to. Now, when Corrigan squeezes their hard cock and calls them a greedy little slut, Kurt almost comes right on the spot, sobs of pleasure and pain and utter humiliation filling their bridal suite.]
Stop it! Sh-Shut up! That’s not true, y-you’re wrong! [They squirm and struggle against him, shoving at his muscled chest, putting up a very convincing fight for someone who went a little crosseyed when their hair was pulled.] I’m not—!
no subject
Date: 2022-11-15 06:22 am (UTC)Is that so? You're a sweet, demure little thing now, is that right? Having fifteen-minute missionary with Greg with the lights out so he can't see how goddamn bored you are?
[He's backing towards the bed now, grabbing Kurt’s arms and dragging them along, pressing them close to his chest so he can purr the next words against their tangled hair, so his hands can freely squeeze and grope their shivering body.] Does he fuck you like I did, baby? Does he make you scream on his cock and sob for more? Has he ever made you feel even a fraction as good as I do?
no subject
Date: 2022-11-15 06:57 am (UTC)Corrigan knows, and nothing Kurt can say will disprove his words. As they’re pulled bodily towards the bed, stumbling along while pretending to fight him, knowing they’re about to get fucked within an inch of their life almost make the lonely boring nights worth it.]
Sh-Shuddup. He… [they can’t even pretend for a moment that Greg makes them feel good] He doesn’t hurt me. He doesn’t c-call me names. Greg respects me! [They can’t tell which is the bigger lie: Greg respecting them, or that they’re turned off by name-calling and pain.]
no subject
Date: 2022-11-15 03:00 pm (UTC)In all the years he's known Kurt, Corrigan’s never once seen them enjoy being handled with kid gloves. They've always demanded more, harder, faster. They're the strongest, most ferocious person he knows, and they insist on being treated like that.
So he sits on the edge of the bed, tugs Kurt to stand in between his spread legs and looks up at them calmly.] So go. Go find him and tell him all about me. Have me thrown out of here and never worry about being disrespected again. [He releases Kurt's wrists, settles his hands on their hips, starting to ease down their rumpled pants.]
If that's what you really want... [Then he pauses, lifting his chin.] But if you stay, I'm not letting you go again. This is your last chance, baby.