Middle of nowhere, sugar. [This is murmured against Kurt's temple as Corrigan steps into the pleasantly warm motel room -- small, clean and humble, with the suitcases set to one side of the single king-sized bed. He doesn't stop there, though, carrying Kurt into the bathroom, which is hot and steamy from the bath Corrigan’s already drawn.
He sets Kurt to sit on the edge of the tub, smoothing the stringy, lank hair back from his face.] Go ahead and clean up, I'm going to order dinner. Call if you need anything, hm? [Then he steps out, leaving the door open a crack, in case Kurt calls out.]
[He must be dreaming. The heat of the bathroom envelops him so completely, heavy steam filling his lungs, dampening his skin, making Kurt feel dazed and unfocused, but simultaneously safe. Cradled, like he’s suspended in water, floating but not. There’s a bath already drawn for him. Corrigan’s touch is very gentle.
It must be a dream, because this isn’t what pimps do. This isn’t how people who buy human beings as pets treat their property. So either this isn’t real, or Corrigan really is different. The exception. Kurt allows himself to dream for a while longer.] Th-Thank you, sir.
[Shedding the blanket and suit jacket, Kurt sinks into the tub with a pitiful shiver, a thin sigh of blissful relief. It’s the best bath he’s ever fucking taken. The whole time he sits there, slowly washing every inch of his body—still not wholly convinced he’s awake—he shoots little glances at the door. A bath, a hot meal, a gentle doting touch… is all of this really part of Kurt’s reality now? No tricks? No manipulation? No last-minute catch..?]
[There's always a catch, Kurt. Though Corrigan is much more subtle and strategic about everything he's doing. Every bit of kindness binds Kurt closer to him, every gentle touch and thoughtful gesture stronger than any restraints could be. Fear is quicker, but adoration is much more powerful.
And he has time. He wants to take Kurt apart and put him back together, bit by bit, and the only way that'll be possible is if his pet doesn't question a single thing he does. If the need to obey, to keep being cared for and protected is stronger than the need for dignity or autonomy.
So, right when the water starts to turn cool, Corrigan’s there with a towel, motioning for Kurt to stand and wrapping it several times around his skinny, shivering frame.] Feel better, baby? [This is murmured into Kurt's silky, wet hair, accompanied with a kiss to his forehead.]
[It's amazing how he does it, stepping into the room right on time, towel in hand, wrapping him all up in it as soon as he rises to stand. For being so intimidating and morally reprehensible, Corrigan sure is doing all the right things to win Kurt's trust. The big gentle hands, the soft kiss, the petname... Kurt knows he should hate this, should be frightened and repulsed by all the attention, but the shameful part of him hidden so deep inside—the one that's slowly rising to the surface the longer he spends with the man—so badly craves it.
Kurt hasn't known much affection in his life. Certainly nothing as tender as this. It's no wonder he unconsciously leans into Corrigan's frame, seeking his warmth, closing his eyes at the sweet kiss.]
Y-Yes, sir. Thank you. I mean it, it r-really... a-all of this, I... [Look at him. Jerk him off and give him a hot bath, and that's enough to reduce Kurt to tears, his throat closing up around the words, eyes burning. He ducks his head, shivering, towel-clad shoulders shaking as he tries to choke down the sobs. It's pitiful. Disgraceful. Shameful.] S-Sorry, sir, I— I don't mean to...
Shhh, shh, don't apologize, sweetheart. [Corrigan’s big, strong arms come up to wrap around Kurt, warm and protective and all-encompassing. He holds the shivering, sniffling young man close, rocking slightly back and forth.] You've been through hell, baby, go ahead and cry. It's all right. You can cry.
[His voice is sweet, soft, endlessly comforting as he murmurs:] You're safe now, Kurt. Nothing and nobody's going to hurt you. Caesar won't ever touch you or any other boy again.
[And, in the exact same tone, sweet and soothing:] Because the fucker's dead in the trunk of my car.
[He has been through hell, hasn’t he? Not just with Caesar, but for years and years before that, his short life seemingly nothing but struggle. Corrigan gives him permission to cry, to let all that pain and grief out, and being all soft and warm and pliant from the bath, Kurt does. There’s no one here to admonish him for crying. Only Corrigan and his solid, unyielding presence, his tender voice, his gentle words.
It’s when he’s in this soft, trusting, vulnerable state that Corrigan confesses to killing Caesar.
Kurt can’t breathe. His blood runs cold. There’s shock and horror in his red-rimmed eyes when he looks up at Corrigan, fear unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Not for Caesar’s sake—there’s a nauseating sense of joyous relief at the news—but for his own. The man holding him and comforting him, the only person who’s shown him any tenderness for as long as he can remember, the man who now owns him, is capable of murder.
And yet, Kurt doesn’t pull away. He’s overcome with terror, ashen and so so vulnerable, and he doesn’t pull away.] He’s… No, th-that’s not… D-Did you really..?
Mmmm-hm. [Corrigan kisses Kurt's forehead once more, then steers him to sit on the bed, like he hadn't just confessed to murder. He seems very calm, grabbing one of the extra blankets and wrapping it around the shivering, tearful boy's shoulders, before meticulously fingercombing Kurt's damp hair back.]
I used a ligature, so it'd be less messy. But I should go dispose of the body and pick up dinner. [There's a beat, then Corrigan’s fingers curl tight into Kurt's hair, forcing his gaze upwards.] If you leave this hotel room, I will know. And I will find you. Understand me?
[Fear isn't as strong as love, but sometimes it's a necessary tool.]
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no subject
Date: 2022-10-11 04:03 am (UTC)He sets Kurt to sit on the edge of the tub, smoothing the stringy, lank hair back from his face.] Go ahead and clean up, I'm going to order dinner. Call if you need anything, hm? [Then he steps out, leaving the door open a crack, in case Kurt calls out.]
no subject
Date: 2022-10-12 12:24 am (UTC)It must be a dream, because this isn’t what pimps do. This isn’t how people who buy human beings as pets treat their property. So either this isn’t real, or Corrigan really is different. The exception. Kurt allows himself to dream for a while longer.] Th-Thank you, sir.
[Shedding the blanket and suit jacket, Kurt sinks into the tub with a pitiful shiver, a thin sigh of blissful relief. It’s the best bath he’s ever fucking taken. The whole time he sits there, slowly washing every inch of his body—still not wholly convinced he’s awake—he shoots little glances at the door. A bath, a hot meal, a gentle doting touch… is all of this really part of Kurt’s reality now? No tricks? No manipulation? No last-minute catch..?]
no subject
Date: 2022-10-12 05:10 am (UTC)And he has time. He wants to take Kurt apart and put him back together, bit by bit, and the only way that'll be possible is if his pet doesn't question a single thing he does. If the need to obey, to keep being cared for and protected is stronger than the need for dignity or autonomy.
So, right when the water starts to turn cool, Corrigan’s there with a towel, motioning for Kurt to stand and wrapping it several times around his skinny, shivering frame.] Feel better, baby? [This is murmured into Kurt's silky, wet hair, accompanied with a kiss to his forehead.]
no subject
Date: 2022-10-12 09:01 pm (UTC)Kurt hasn't known much affection in his life. Certainly nothing as tender as this. It's no wonder he unconsciously leans into Corrigan's frame, seeking his warmth, closing his eyes at the sweet kiss.]
Y-Yes, sir. Thank you. I mean it, it r-really... a-all of this, I... [Look at him. Jerk him off and give him a hot bath, and that's enough to reduce Kurt to tears, his throat closing up around the words, eyes burning. He ducks his head, shivering, towel-clad shoulders shaking as he tries to choke down the sobs. It's pitiful. Disgraceful. Shameful.] S-Sorry, sir, I— I don't mean to...
no subject
Date: 2022-10-13 02:15 am (UTC)[His voice is sweet, soft, endlessly comforting as he murmurs:] You're safe now, Kurt. Nothing and nobody's going to hurt you. Caesar won't ever touch you or any other boy again.
[And, in the exact same tone, sweet and soothing:] Because the fucker's dead in the trunk of my car.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-14 12:26 am (UTC)It’s when he’s in this soft, trusting, vulnerable state that Corrigan confesses to killing Caesar.
Kurt can’t breathe. His blood runs cold. There’s shock and horror in his red-rimmed eyes when he looks up at Corrigan, fear unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Not for Caesar’s sake—there’s a nauseating sense of joyous relief at the news—but for his own. The man holding him and comforting him, the only person who’s shown him any tenderness for as long as he can remember, the man who now owns him, is capable of murder.
And yet, Kurt doesn’t pull away. He’s overcome with terror, ashen and so so vulnerable, and he doesn’t pull away.] He’s… No, th-that’s not… D-Did you really..?
no subject
Date: 2022-10-14 04:51 am (UTC)I used a ligature, so it'd be less messy. But I should go dispose of the body and pick up dinner. [There's a beat, then Corrigan’s fingers curl tight into Kurt's hair, forcing his gaze upwards.] If you leave this hotel room, I will know. And I will find you. Understand me?
[Fear isn't as strong as love, but sometimes it's a necessary tool.]