[Kurt sure wouldn't mind getting his throat fucked while suspended in mid-air by ropes, being made to take his Master's cock until he goes crosseyed and delirious, but it's probably for the best that they put that on hold. They have all the time in the world after he's done proving himself, after his Master's hands have made him all nice and pliant. He can wait.
He can wait. Right?
He keeps telling himself he can wait as Corrigan's hands slowly smooth over his body, all long, patient strokes, his palms warm and his fingers gentle where they press against his skin. Over his stomach, where his muscles quiver deliciously to keep himself straight. Over his back, his spine arched in an attractive taut curve by the tightened ropes trapping him. Over his arms, his thighs, his hips, bound and fighting not to press into his Master's touch. He keeps telling himself he can wait, closing his eyes and moaning softly, letting himself enjoy the near meditative stroke of hands.
But he can't. Kurt knows his patience is being tested, and he's starting to fail.]
M-Master-- [He shudders, trying - and failing - not to whine with need, but he manages to stay still. Doesn't seek out Corrigan's hands, doesn't press into the touch, tries instead to wait it out and let it happen on its own. It's the bare minimum, probably, but given how hard he is, aching for touch and dripping pre on the conference table, he'd say his restraint is admirable.] Feels so good, Master. Really good. Thank you, Master, thank you. Not-- Not satisfied though, Master, never satisfied, never, can't lie to you, c-can't ever get enough of your perfect touch, Master, please.
Mmmm-hm. [By now, Corrigan knows Kurt's tells, knows the exact shade of red his face goes when he's pleased or turned on, knows how he squirms in his seat when a particular word or look hits just right, knows how to make him melt or moan or scream. Granted, it's a lot easier to tell the effect he's having when Kurt's naked and tied up for him, unable to hide behind carefully-buttoned clothes or a composed expression.
But he can also tell when that carefully-trained control begins to slip, when the patience and obedience Kurt is so careful to have in every other area of his life starts fraying at the edges. He recognizes the tell-tale breathless note in the stammered, gasped-out words, just this side of babbling, and he knows. If Kurt's whole goal is to stay put together, show off how good and obedient he can be, Corrigan's is to push him into falling apart, losing control completely, again and again. It's so much more fun that way, after all.
So he pauses, one hand coming to rest on Kurt's trembling lower back, holding him still, because it wouldn't do for him to be able to move or arch and coax Corrigan's fingers into slipping somewhere else, right? Especially when his free hand is moving so delicately, fingertips-only, slipping over the shuddering muscles of Kurt's stomach, skirting the edge of his hips, then gliding up the inside of his thigh, almost-tickling in how light, how unsatisfying the contact is.] Not satisfied? Do you wish I'd touch you somewhere else, then? Someplace a little...more intimate?
[Corrigan pauses, moves his hand, fingers spread, curled slightly, close enough to Kurt's hard, dripping cock that the heat from his skin is tangible. It'd only take the slightest twitch, the tiniest movement, Kurt could so easily blame it on an involuntary shudder or pure instinct. Except Corrigan didn't say he could. That's the only catch.]
[Corrigan is so good - too good, dangerously good - at making Kurt fall apart. Especially when he's not supposed to, not allowed to. Kurt tries every trick in the book to keep himself still and poised, drawing on everything he has to remain in control. Slow, shuddery breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, clenching and unclenching his fingers, his toes, trying to let his mind wander instead of focusing on his Master's big hands on his body, his voice warm and rumbling in his ear, tempting.
It feels like it's working. Even as he shivers and gasps, whining softly with pleasure, Kurt feels like he's in control of his muscles, surrendering to touch without chasing it, surely enough to impress his Master even as he teases.
And by God, does he tease.] Please, Master, please, I want you to. Want to feel your hands all over me, y-your fingers on my cock, please.
[It's then, as he's begging for Corrigan's touch, so eager and needy for more, that his control slips - just by a hair, just by an involuntary clench of muscle, that's it, not thinking, not even on purpose. It's then, as that too-light, tickling touch leaves him and the heat of his palm gets so, so, so close to his throbbing cock, that a little twitch ripples through his body. It's enough for skin to touch skin, for Corrigan's waiting hand to brush against his aching cock, making the younger man whimper with pleasure, no matter how brief.
It was an accident. Totally understandable. Right?]
[Corrigan grins, a briefly triumphant, gloating expression, which Kurt of course, totally misses, since the rope around his neck is keeping him facing the other way. It's gone quick, though, replaced with Corrigan fully climbing up onto the table (good thing it's heavy, solid oak, able to hold his weight easily) and kneeling so his mouth is right at Kurt's ear, voice soft and velvety and soothing.] There's my boy. I knew you couldn't resist for long. Not when I have you right where I want you. Not when you've been waiting so patiently.
[His hand moves, fingers wrapping firmly around Kurt's cock, squeezing once, then pulling down, stroking him long and lingering and just right, twisting his wrist a little at the end, just like Kurt loves it. Then again, and again, pumping his hand at an even, firm pace, pressing a kiss behind his ear and murmuring:] There we go, just like that, you love this, don't you, you're gagging for it, you want me to touch you so bad...
[It's a surprising bit of leniency, when Kurt had likely expected punishment of some sort, but Corrigan likely has something wicked and maddening up his sleeve. But the momentary indulgence certainly is pleasant, isn't it?]
[It hits him that he wasn't supposed to do that only after it's too late. The sound of Corrigan climbing up on the table brings him right back, out of that brief moment of fleeting pleasure and back into the scene, the situation - he hadn't been given permission to move, and he went and did it anyway. Now the sound of leather shoes scuffing against the conference table behind him rings out and fills the room, his body swaying softly as the ropes are jostled, his Master getting into position right behind him. His spine arches a little tighter in anticipation, trembling as he holds his breath. Surely he's going to be punished.
Not yet, it seems. His Master's touch doesn't turn punishing at all, it almost feels more like a reward. Slow, long, lingering, just tight enough, Corrigan's pace measured and deliberate. Just perfect. Enough to drive Kurt crazy, if he keeps it up.]
Y-Yes, ah-- please! Feels so good, Master, s-so good when you touch me like that, waited so long, w-wanted it so bad, thank you. Thank you, Master, gorgeous Master, k-kind Master, oh my god.
[It's more than just pleasant. In the back of his mind, Kurt does know it can't last, Corrigan most certainly has something more planned. But right now, bound and suspended and so so hard, twitching against Corrigan's palm, it feels like heaven.]
[Of course it can't last. Because Corrigan's got one hand stroking Kurt like they're teenagers hiding in a supply closet, all rough, eager impatience and his mouth open against Kurt's neck, even though he said hands only, but he can't stop himself, biting down where it's soft and vulnerable, where ear meets neck, then laving his tongue over the spot. It's indulgent, it's intense and passionate, like it's just one of their long lazy mornings spent tangled up in the sheets and each other.
Except it isn't, of course. Because Corrigan didn't climb up on the table empty-handed -- no, not when there were so many delicious ways of enacting torturously blissful punishment. His free hand moves, suddenly, and for a moment there's more contact, more head-spinning, teasing touches, but when he moves both hands away, it's suddenly very evident why he'd worked so hard to get Kurt throbbing and hard in his hands.
He'd promised no mouth, but he never said anything about toys.
Corrigan finds the on switch for the sleek, tightly-fitting circle of silicone and flicks it to a low, maddening setting, enough to send thrumming vibrations where he'd been stroking just seconds before, then ducks to murmur sweetly into Kurt's ear:] Remember, no coming until I say you can.
[During the blissful seconds of indulgence offered to him before moving onto something inevitably more punishing, Kurt lets himself enjoy his Master's touch loudly and fully and without question. As long as he gets to feel this good, he'll happily take it. Every squeeze and stroke of Corrigan's fingers gets a moan, soft and rich, interspersed with delighted whimpers at the bite to his neck. He's shivering, tipping his head as far as he can to let his Master spoil him with kisses and tongue and teeth.
It's not often he gets to be spoiled like this during play, so he has no qualms in soaking it all up for as long as he gets to have it.
Not long, turns out. Kurt feels the pressure of the silicone ring as his Master slips it on, gripping securely around his throbbing cock, and then the vibrations hit. His whole body goes tight as soon as he feels them - the lowest possible setting, he's beyond fucked already - thrumming through him without pause or mercy. It feels so good, disarmingly good, and it takes a conscious full-body effort to relax his muscles, to ride with the vibrations, to not let them carry him away.]
Ah-- Hah--! Y-Yes, Master, I-- I-I won't, I won't, I-- [It's punishingly hard already. He's moaning with pleasure, unable to fight the occasional twitch as his body craves more, trying to break his resolve. A shuddery mantra is mumbled through clenched teeth as he hangs there, helpless, whimpering, dripping.] Not coming, n-not coming, not gonna come, not gonna come, not coming...
[Corrigan hums out a bemused chuckle of sound, hooking a couple fingers beneath Kurt's collar and tugging gently, pulling the band of leather taut over his throat. He presses one last kiss to Kurt's flushed, warmed skin, this one where his neck and shoulder meet and murmurs approvingly:] I know you won't. You're my good boy and you're gonna be so, so good for me, right?
[Without waiting for an answer -- because the answer is always an emphatic, whole-hearted yes -- Corrigan moves around behind Kurt, absently plucking at the ropes, making sure they're still tight and secure. He's doing it on purpose, taking his time and letting the steady thrum of the vibrations of the toy drive Kurt closer and closer to losing control. There's the familiar sound of lube being uncapped (because of course Corrigan has lube on him, always) and the sudden, wet coolness of it poured at the base of Kurt's spine, a small puddle of it, slippery and cold, welling up and spilling over the curve of his ass.]
Remember to take deep breaths. [Corrigan says in an undertone, capping the little bottle and watching the splatter of lube join the mess on the tabletop. One big warm hand comes up, smoothing the slick lube over Kurt's skin, over the fading handprint on his ass, his parted thighs, fingers slipping down to ghost over his hole, not pushing in just yet. Still just teasing.
Then he brings a hand down hard on the slicked-up skin, the sound and impact increased by the oily substance, adding another handprint to match the one he'd left previously.]
Yes, yes, o-of course, Master. So, so good for you. Ah...
[Kurt feels simultaneously heavy and weightless with sensation. His collar goes tight against his throat, cutting off his breath for a maddening, dizzying moment, delicious in its brevity, making him crave more. Vibrations still hum through him, low but insistent, little waves of pleasure rippling through his body, shivering against the tight bonds. The ropes are occasionally teasingly plucked, causing him to sway and shift ever so gently in the air, his Master's unseen hands toying with him as his control slowly crumbles.
The cold splash of lube to his hot skin makes Kurt gasp, moaning, shuddering, but he does as he's told, sucking in deep breaths of air, lungs expanding as far as the ropes holding him will allow. It's centering, both the breaths and the cold slick pool of lube spilling over the edges of his body, Corrigan's hand spreading it over his skin, making a mess of both him and the table. It helps him concentrate on something else than how good he's feeling. How easy it would be to just let go, to accept the pleasure, to embrace the fall over the edge...]
Ah! [The hand that had been slicking him up and teasing over his asshole comes down with a sickening sharp crack against his slick cheek. Kurt's whole body goes tight then, the pain hot and blooming, going straight to his twitching cock, the vibrations making everything that much more intense. Everything disappears from his mind for those short, blissful seconds as the delicious pain fades into a sweet, tingling burn, and he floats on that pleasure for as long as he has it.] Th-Thank you, Master, thank you! Oh fuck!
[Corrigan clucks his tongue once, mildly, gently disapproving, even as one broad palm comes to smooth over the reddened flesh, squeezing gently, rubbing away the sting.] Such language. [Considering the filthy things that come out of his mouth on the daily, this is an extremely hypocritical comment, Corry.
Now that Kurt's bearing matching handprints that'll definitely make sitting down slightly uncomfortable, Corrigan wipes one slippery hand somewhat clean-ish on his pants (his dry cleaners are the most discreet, long-suffering people on the planet) and moves to increase the speed and intensity of the vibrator. His other hand returns to his previous task, slick and probing, sliding through the mess of lube and then inside Kurt, down to the knuckle in one smooth, practiced motion. He crooks it just so, eases free and then plunges back in, harder.] God, I always forget how fucking tight you are.
[Oh, but if anyone is allowed to be hypocritical, it's his Master. His word is law, after all.
The vibrations suddenly feel like they double with just a click of a button, the intensity of the toy's whirring motor making new waves of pleasure ripple mercilessly through Kurt's body, muscles going tight and quivery. His cock strains against the tight silicone grip, twitching and throbbing and dripping still. The effort to still his hips, to stop them bucking fruitlessly into thin air chasing release, is herculean.
Not helped by his Master choosing this moment to push a finger inside him, long and thick and fitting so perfectly inside him, luring another hungry cry from the trembling pet. He is tight, he feels every knuckle going in and out as they pass his hole, made all the more tighter by how his body clenches and twitches with pleasure he's desperate not to succumb to.
He's starting to look and sound like he's losing his mind a little bit. Perfect.] Tha-- Thank you, Master! Love being so tight for you, Master, l-love being your tight little toy. So happy my body pleases you, M-Master.
[The only benefit to the silicone ring is that it helps stave off climax -- not stop entirely, it isn't quite tight enough for that, but it definitely makes control a little bit easier. Then again, Corrigan isn't helping that at all, one hand grabbing at the ropes suspending Kurt from the ceiling and pulling them back, holding him still as a second finger joins the first thick, hooking one, scissoring and curling inside the young man. It isn't the slow, lazy movements Corrigan tends towards when he's giving a reward post-scene, or when he's prepping Kurt for a long, languid hour or two in bed, when he takes his time, makes sure Kurt's relaxed and ready and open.
This is near-mechanical (which is an idea in itself, one Corrigan files away for later), fingers thrusting in at a hard, punishing pace, with no other purpose than to make that barely-held composure slip away. And all the while that soft, soothing voice continues, a sharp contrast to how he's finger-fucking Kurt open.] God, you know it does, pet, you know how much I want to break my promise and use my mouth on you, eat you out until you're screaming for me, fuck you right here and now where anyone could see.
[A third finger, and Corrigan's spreading them, twisting them, the mess of lube dripping down his arm and onto the table.] Maybe I'll let that be your reward, if you can be good for me. Would you like that, pet?
[Kurt is counting his blessings at this point, the silicon ring chief among them. He's pretty sure he would've come by now if not for the tight fit around his cock, throbbing with complaint but not completely betraying him just yet. At least if he comes now, he'll only really be disappointed instead of completely humiliated. Sometimes Corrigan makes him come embarrassingly quickly.
He hasn't yet - although not for lack of trying, good God, his fingers fucking him open feel divine - but he sure is getting there. Every slick, twisting, spreading, punishing thrust of his Master's thick fingers inside him makes him see stars, his eyes starting to roll back, lips and chin wet from dribbles of saliva he hasn't noticed or cared about. Though the ropes hold him back, Kurt tries spreading his legs on instinct, wanting so badly to feel more, for Corrigan to follow through and break his promise and blow his fucking mind with that amazing mouth of his, to ram his cock inside him over and over until he can't take it anymore, no matter who's watching.
There could be people standing there right now, watching everything. Kurt doesn't notice or care.]
Y-Y-Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck, please Master! I'd like that, please, I want that so bad, want to scream for you, Master--! [He's cut off by a loud, raspy, drawn-out moan, a tell that he's getting close, balancing on a razor's edge and on the verge of tipping over.]
[Corrigan knows the tells, knows every sign, knows Kurt's body better than his own, at this point. And he's also been hard this entire time, holding back from doing more than getting his hands on and in his pet, which has taken every bit of his considerable self-control. So when he hears that ragged, desperate moan, half a gasp, almost a scream, he decides to give Kurt a chance to win. Sometimes he doesn't, sometimes he goes beyond the blatantly obvious limits of Kurt's control and then the game can continue for a while, he can make the younger man earn his way back to favor. There's fun in that, of course, but Corrigan isn't as young as he once was, and the prospect of reward rather than punishment is much more appealing this time.
Of course, he doesn't say any of that aloud -- that would spoil things. Instead he slows the pace of those three thick fingers working in and out of Kurt, curling and hooking and scissoring him open, and reaches with his free hand to turn off the vibrations and slip off the ring. It's slippery enough, from sweat and lube and god knows what else, and Kurt is tangibly throbbing when Corrigan curls his hand around, squeezes gently. His voice is soft, lenient:] If you can keep from coming until I count to ten, then I'll give you just that. I'll reward you for being so, so good for me, for being so perfect.
[He pauses, presses a kiss to Kurt's lower back and says, just as sweetly:] If you can't, then you don't get to come until tomorrow, and I still get to fuck you senseless, right here and now. Understand me?
[Without waiting for an answer, Corrigan starts jerking Kurt off in time with the fingers plunging inside him, hard and fast and skillful, counting in a slow, leisurely way:] One...two...three...
[It's anyone's guess if Kurt can make it, but at least there's a chance, right?]
[When the vibrations mercifully stop, Kurt is left hanging in that delicious hazy veil of pleasure, brought so close to the edge only for it to start gently fading, slipping back just out of reach. It's been a while since they've really messed around with edging, foggy memories from months and years ago coming back to him, a mess of nights of near delirium and desperate cries for more all blending together. Even though they're not playing that kind of game today - he hopes - he's proud of himself for holding back this long, fully aware of how hard it is.
He's also thrilled, knowing just how good it's gonna feel when his Master finally lets him come.]
Y-Yes, Master, yes, I-- ah!
[He doesn't even get to enthusiastically agree to his Master's generous terms before the test starts, those thick fingers fucking into him in earnest, the big hand gripping his cock stroking him hard and fast. Master sure doesn't go easy on him. Kurt moans loudly, throwing his head back, his cries surely loud enough that every worker and client on the neighboring floors can hear his pleasure as Corrigan works his body right back up to that limit. He's shaking and twitching against the restraints, wanting so badly to let go and come hard over his Master's strong, unforgiving fingers, to feel the rush of climax right now, punishment be damned.
But he's stubborn. He wants to make Corrigan proud, wants to prove that he can do it. He's made it to three already. So he can make it to ten. He can take his mind elsewhere, think of something else, anything else, like the burn in his muscles or the press of his weight against the ropes or the weather tomorrow or what they're ordering for dinner or how he has to pick up their dry-cleaning later. He can do this. He's in control.]
Thank you, Master! F-Feels so good, thank you for fucking me w-with your hand, Master, I-- fuck, I wanna come so bad, Master, wanna come so bad for you, b-but I won't-- I won't-- hah, w-wanna make you proud, Master!
[God, Corrigan loves that stubborn streak, that unbreakable determination that Kurt has when he sets his mind to something and refuses to give it up. He's seen it in smaller ways, the devotion Kurt has to his various passions and interests, the way he attacks the world head-on, ready for a fight, ready to stand up and push back as long and as hard as it takes. And of course he sees it in times like this, when he takes Kurt's defenses apart, leaves him trembling and shivering and near-senseless with pleasure and strain, pushes him to a point far beyond what most people would be able to take. Kurt can take it, he can take anything, and it's going to make the ultimate payoff all the more rewarding.
He doesn't say this, though, focused on thrusting his fingers inside Kurt hard and deep, to the knuckles, lube slicking his palm and dripping all over the table, hooking them together on the way in and spreading on the way out, dragging over that spot he knows will drive Kurt insane. His other hand tightens, loosens as he drags it over Kurt's cock, twisting at the end of each long pull, thumbing over the head, slippery with the lube that's drying all over Kurt's pale, shivering skin.
And he counts, voice a low, even contrast to how skillfully he's manipulating Kurt's body, pushing every button, every trick in the book to make him lose control that much faster:] Four...five...six...seven...
[Corrigan doesn't say he's proud, doesn't encourage, doesn't coax Kurt one way or the other, but he does duck down, pressing another of those soft, almost gentle kisses at the base of his pet's spine. Almost there, you're almost there, it says, louder than words.] ...eight...nine...ten.
It's getting harder and harder to take though. Corrigan doesn't let up at all, still counting at that same slow, lazy pace, insufferably enunciating every single word and drawing it out on his tongue in the exact way he always does to drive Kurt absolutely crazy. He knows it's deliberate, and it still gets to him. The even pace of his voice when he counts is such a sharp turn from the brutal pace of his hands, playing his body punishingly hard. He knows exactly where to hook and spread and squeeze and press and twist his fingers around him, inside him, to make Kurt split at the seams, and he's pulling out every single trick he knows to make him deliciously break apart.
Kurt can't even ground himself in the pain of his sore muscles straining against tight ropes, can't dig his fingernails into the palms of his bound hands, for fear that the gorgeous dizzying sting of pain will send him careening over the edge. All he has is the hard clench of his jaw between cries of pleasure, and complete stubborn willpower. He refuses to lose. Absolutely refuses. The only thinking part of his brain left latches onto his Master's voice sounding out numbers one by one, burying himself in that rich baritone, waiting for that blissful moment when his voice finally sounds out ten.
It's like that word is the catalyst, the trigger that finally brings Kurt to climax. It takes a second, maybe two, like the word has to register in a mind too far gone to pay attention, but when it finally does, Kurt can't hold back anymore and starts coming hard. His whole body goes tight, his voice raw and hoarse as he unabashedly cries out his pleasure, shaking apart as he comes all over Corrigan's hand in hot, heavy bursts, making a complete mess of the table. It's white-hot, blinding, and it feels like it goes on forever, like he'll stay in this feeling for the rest of his life, floating weightless on a wave of ecstasy hard-fought for.
Even when it starts fading, when he's spilled his last and his body slumps and his cries become soft whimpers, Kurt can't bring himself to worry about anything. Whether he came too soon even after all that waiting, whether Master is disappointed or proud, he soars on this feeling for as long as he has it.]
[Corrigan rides it out with Kurt, keeps up the movement of his hands, fingers thrusting in hard, hand curling and squeezing and pulling, coaxing out that delicious, peaking high as long as possible, a reward tinged with pain. Waiting this long, pushing himself this far, coming has to almost hurt with what a relief it is, every strained muscle finally letting go, and Corrigan leans over Kurt as he finally starts to come down, as the uncontrollable jerking and shaking fades into shivery twitching, oversensitivity making even the soft nuzzling kiss to the back of one shoulderblade almost too much.]
Good boy. [It's soft, rumbling, more felt than heard, between those soothing, lavishing kisses, like Corrigan's held back too and can't keep himself from the gentle, tender affection one more minute. The words distract from the too-much-too-soon pulse of overstimulated nerve endings that comes when Corrigan slides his fingers free, discreetly wiping them on his pants. Perhaps he should start carrying around towels instead of cock rings.
No matter -- Corrigan is shifting easily into aftercare mode, examining the ropes for a moment before grabbing the safety scissors and forgoing fiddling with the knots in favor of just cutting through the bonds. Solstice will probably holler about wasting perfectly good rope, but Corrigan has never been particular patient. Besides, he knows that the mind-numbing pleasure will fade soon, and he wants Kurt out of his restraints before they become painful. A few careful snips and the ropes suspending Kurt's mostly-limp body midair are gently loosened until the young man is resting on the (very slippery) tabletop. A few more and the rest of the ropes fall away, leaving vivid red marks in their wake.
Corrigan slides to stand beside the table, gathering Kurt into his arms and rubbing at the ropeburn that crisscrosses behind his neck, humming into his hair:] Mmm, still with me? Nod if you can't talk yet.
[Corrigan praises him, calls him a good boy between burning touches of lips to his skin, and Kurt is just gone. Every touch feels like a live wire, his body suspended in an electric haze of pleasure, overwhelming, too much, but he gets so lost in that euphoric subspace the praise envelops him in that the pain of overstimulation barely registers. He made his Master proud, he made himself proud, and that knowledge makes every sharp tingly brush of fingers and lips all the sweeter.
Proving that he could do it was reward enough in itself. But getting to come sure didn't hurt. Much.
The scissors are cold whenever they touch his skin, so is the wet table when he makes contact with it, and he whines softly with every rope that's cut through as circulation slowly returns to his prickling limbs. He's going to have bruises and rope burn for days after this. He'll be thrilled to examine every single mark when he's capable, trace them with his fingers as they heal, knowing his Master will take good care of him and make sure there's no permanent damage. There never ever is.
Settling against Corrigan's chest, limbs limp and useless for now, Kurt moans softly and nuzzles into his shoulder, nodding softly. There's no way he can form a coherent sentence right now. He just wants to be close to his Master, feel his body against his, feel his big hands on his skin, feel him come inside him, already getting needy and impatient to be lavished with praise and healing touch.]
[Corrigan huffs gently at the moan, at the affectionate, wordlessly needy way Kurt is nuzzling into him. One hand comes up, cards through sweat-soaked hair, which is to date the only way he's seen it loose and unstyled. It's nice, the wholehearted, loose-limbed trusting in how Kurt leans against him, the absolute lack of self-consciousness. It's been a long time coming.
Pun not intended.
He allows it for a couple more moments, then eases away enough to pick up his suit jacket, which is lying discarded over one of the chairs nearby, still meticulously clean and tailored. This is settled around Kurt's shoulders, covering him up enough that Corrigan feels safe scooping him up and heading for the door. It's midday, but the conference room opens out onto a side hallway, and it's likely they'll be able to get to the elevator and upstairs without being seen. Knowing Solly, she's probably steering everyone away from that part of the building until she gets an all-clear text. Then she'll send in the cleaning crew.
There's a definite impatience in how Kurt is cuddling up to him that Corrigan knows full well is coming from a desire to get to the promised reward. A few years ago, he likely wouldn't have taken a step back, would've fucked Kurt senseless right then and there on the table. But he's -- softened up, maybe? In his old age, and while he would never turn down a chance to make Kurt scream for him, the desire to get the bruises attended to and some sort of clean-up/hydration/aftercare taken care of is stronger now.
Besides, it's always fun to make Kurt pout about Corrigan fussing over him instead of fucking him. The younger man's gotten a lot better about knowing his boundaries, but nobody's perfect. So Corrigan nudges open the door with his foot, pressing a kiss to Kurt's temple and saying almost cheerfully:] You're drinking at least a bottle and a half of water before I do anything else to you, hear me?
[Oh, and pout he does. The long, lingering, often deliberately drawn-out aftercare he's sometimes granted after play feels so good, his Master's tender hands the perfect way to bring him back down to earth after any glorious dizzying high. But sometimes, especially times like now when he hasn't been rewarded yet and Corrigan insists on dragging it out, it certainly does feel like being fussed over. He wants to be fucked right now, he doesn't wanna wait, he's been so good already.
But he knows better than to fight his Master on this. Master always knows best, being the only one with a clear head. His future self will thank him for those bottles of water in the morning, even though his current self would rather take a dick down his throat than hydrate right now.]
Ugh... Mmmph'fine... thankyou, m'ster...
[Though his words are whiny, indignant, his tone is soft and sweet when he slurs his words, heavy arms slowly coming up to hold on to Corrigan's shoulders as he's carried outside. Kurt honestly wouldn't mind if all of New York saw him right now, not caring if they bump into anyone in the hallways or the elevator on the way to Corrigan's suite. But it would probably be for the best if their trek upstairs goes uninterrupted.
Solstice really deserves more credit for all the extra work she has to do for them.]
[Corrigan laughs, a genuinely bemused sound, muffled against Kurt's hair as he nudged the elevator buttons with one hip.] No whining or I'll have to spank you. [It's very cheerful, fully aware that both of them would enjoy that far too much for it to ever be considered a punishment.
Solstice's motivation is probably something about wanting to avoid getting sued for public nudity, but deep down she cares. And Corrigan is glad for it, glad to not be interrupted during the elevator ride, or the short walk to the suite. His whole world is narrowed down to Kurt's weight in his arms, Kurt's voice in his ear, Kurt's shuddering breaths and racing heart coming back to level. That's the only thing that matters just then.
Well, that and, once Kurt has been settled seated on the edge of the bed, leaning down to rest his hands on either side of the younger man's face and kiss him, slow and lingering and with a promising heat behind it, a suggestion of more to come.]
[Kurt knows he can get away with pouting and whining and sassing Corrigan right now, can feel the smile in his voice when he threatens a spanking, the rumble in his chest when he laughs. They would both enjoy that too much for it to be a punishment, but you can't fault Kurt for keeping up the image of a whimpering pain slut.
He keeps his eyes closed the whole way to the suite, letting his Master's heart beating in his ear soothe him, guide his breathing back to a slow and even pace. Corrigan's arms are so strong, carrying him like he weighs nothing at all, even though his limbs are almost entirely dead weight. It's a miracle he's able to hold himself up at all when they finally slip through the door to Corrigan's suite and he's deposited on the edge of the bed, a miracle he'll attribute entirely to those big hands holding the sides of his face.
Corrigan kisses him, and Kurt melts. There's a soft noise that accompanies the deep, warm sigh against soft lips, Kurt's whole body deflating happily, relishing in the heat, the tenderness, the promise of more.]
It's a guarantee. [Corrigan lingers next to the bed for a long moment, fingers sliding up into Kurt's sweat-soaked hair, brushing it back from his face and dropping more kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.] I love you too. You're still drinking water before we do anything else.
[So there. Corrigan shifts backwards, going to the fridge and pulling out a couple bottles of mineral water, cracking one open and returning to Kurt's side. He kicks off his shoes, climbing onto the bed and settling behind the younger man, one arm around his waist, the other helping to guide the water to his lips.] Feeling in your hands coming back yet? You can move all your toes and everything? Those were some decent knots.
[A pause, and he kisses the back of Kurt's neck before adding, loftily:] Not as good as mine, of course, but decent.
Uggghhh, fine. [And he'd thought for sure he could flatter his way out of hydrating! Kurt playfully slumps over, rolling his eyes as Corrigan gets him a couple bottles of water, truly so perturbed he's not getting fucked right this second that he forgets he's supposed to be pouting about it.
The gentle hands on his body, the warm press of Corrigan's lips to his skin, the cold slide of water down his throat, the tingle in his body at hearing Corrigan say he loves him... it all helps smooth over that indignant whining.]
Wow, thanks a bunch, Master. [He snickers softly between mouthfuls of water, slowly curling and flexing his fingers and toes, gently testing his joints, elbows and knees, feeling the prickling starting to dissipate.] Mmm, I feel really good. Could use some work on the braiding still, didn't turn out as pretty as I wanted it, but I liked my knots today. Just tight enough. [He tips his head back and looks up at Corrigan, beaming.] Guess you're gonna have to teach me some more, huh?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
AN ADDICTION GOING ON A DECADE FUC K
Date: 2020-11-25 04:34 pm (UTC)He can wait. Right?
He keeps telling himself he can wait as Corrigan's hands slowly smooth over his body, all long, patient strokes, his palms warm and his fingers gentle where they press against his skin. Over his stomach, where his muscles quiver deliciously to keep himself straight. Over his back, his spine arched in an attractive taut curve by the tightened ropes trapping him. Over his arms, his thighs, his hips, bound and fighting not to press into his Master's touch. He keeps telling himself he can wait, closing his eyes and moaning softly, letting himself enjoy the near meditative stroke of hands.
But he can't. Kurt knows his patience is being tested, and he's starting to fail.]
M-Master-- [He shudders, trying - and failing - not to whine with need, but he manages to stay still. Doesn't seek out Corrigan's hands, doesn't press into the touch, tries instead to wait it out and let it happen on its own. It's the bare minimum, probably, but given how hard he is, aching for touch and dripping pre on the conference table, he'd say his restraint is admirable.] Feels so good, Master. Really good. Thank you, Master, thank you. Not-- Not satisfied though, Master, never satisfied, never, can't lie to you, c-can't ever get enough of your perfect touch, Master, please.
AT THIS POINT IT'S NOT JUST A HOBBY, IT IS A SACRED VOCATION
Date: 2020-11-25 06:09 pm (UTC)But he can also tell when that carefully-trained control begins to slip, when the patience and obedience Kurt is so careful to have in every other area of his life starts fraying at the edges. He recognizes the tell-tale breathless note in the stammered, gasped-out words, just this side of babbling, and he knows. If Kurt's whole goal is to stay put together, show off how good and obedient he can be, Corrigan's is to push him into falling apart, losing control completely, again and again. It's so much more fun that way, after all.
So he pauses, one hand coming to rest on Kurt's trembling lower back, holding him still, because it wouldn't do for him to be able to move or arch and coax Corrigan's fingers into slipping somewhere else, right? Especially when his free hand is moving so delicately, fingertips-only, slipping over the shuddering muscles of Kurt's stomach, skirting the edge of his hips, then gliding up the inside of his thigh, almost-tickling in how light, how unsatisfying the contact is.] Not satisfied? Do you wish I'd touch you somewhere else, then? Someplace a little...more intimate?
[Corrigan pauses, moves his hand, fingers spread, curled slightly, close enough to Kurt's hard, dripping cock that the heat from his skin is tangible. It'd only take the slightest twitch, the tiniest movement, Kurt could so easily blame it on an involuntary shudder or pure instinct. Except Corrigan didn't say he could. That's the only catch.]
im gonna order us cakes for our 10y anniversary in march, deadass
Date: 2020-11-25 06:51 pm (UTC)[Corrigan is so good - too good, dangerously good - at making Kurt fall apart. Especially when he's not supposed to, not allowed to. Kurt tries every trick in the book to keep himself still and poised, drawing on everything he has to remain in control. Slow, shuddery breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, clenching and unclenching his fingers, his toes, trying to let his mind wander instead of focusing on his Master's big hands on his body, his voice warm and rumbling in his ear, tempting.
It feels like it's working. Even as he shivers and gasps, whining softly with pleasure, Kurt feels like he's in control of his muscles, surrendering to touch without chasing it, surely enough to impress his Master even as he teases.
And by God, does he tease.] Please, Master, please, I want you to. Want to feel your hands all over me, y-your fingers on my cock, please.
[It's then, as he's begging for Corrigan's touch, so eager and needy for more, that his control slips - just by a hair, just by an involuntary clench of muscle, that's it, not thinking, not even on purpose. It's then, as that too-light, tickling touch leaves him and the heat of his palm gets so, so, so close to his throbbing cock, that a little twitch ripples through his body. It's enough for skin to touch skin, for Corrigan's waiting hand to brush against his aching cock, making the younger man whimper with pleasure, no matter how brief.
It was an accident. Totally understandable. Right?]
get ur art of them tattooed on my bicep tbh
Date: 2020-11-25 08:37 pm (UTC)[His hand moves, fingers wrapping firmly around Kurt's cock, squeezing once, then pulling down, stroking him long and lingering and just right, twisting his wrist a little at the end, just like Kurt loves it. Then again, and again, pumping his hand at an even, firm pace, pressing a kiss behind his ear and murmuring:] There we go, just like that, you love this, don't you, you're gagging for it, you want me to touch you so bad...
[It's a surprising bit of leniency, when Kurt had likely expected punishment of some sort, but Corrigan likely has something wicked and maddening up his sleeve. But the momentary indulgence certainly is pleasant, isn't it?]
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Date: 2020-11-25 09:06 pm (UTC)Not yet, it seems. His Master's touch doesn't turn punishing at all, it almost feels more like a reward. Slow, long, lingering, just tight enough, Corrigan's pace measured and deliberate. Just perfect. Enough to drive Kurt crazy, if he keeps it up.]
Y-Yes, ah-- please! Feels so good, Master, s-so good when you touch me like that, waited so long, w-wanted it so bad, thank you. Thank you, Master, gorgeous Master, k-kind Master, oh my god.
[It's more than just pleasant. In the back of his mind, Kurt does know it can't last, Corrigan most certainly has something more planned. But right now, bound and suspended and so so hard, twitching against Corrigan's palm, it feels like heaven.]
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Date: 2020-11-25 10:47 pm (UTC)Except it isn't, of course. Because Corrigan didn't climb up on the table empty-handed -- no, not when there were so many delicious ways of enacting torturously blissful punishment. His free hand moves, suddenly, and for a moment there's more contact, more head-spinning, teasing touches, but when he moves both hands away, it's suddenly very evident why he'd worked so hard to get Kurt throbbing and hard in his hands.
He'd promised no mouth, but he never said anything about toys.
Corrigan finds the on switch for the sleek, tightly-fitting circle of silicone and flicks it to a low, maddening setting, enough to send thrumming vibrations where he'd been stroking just seconds before, then ducks to murmur sweetly into Kurt's ear:] Remember, no coming until I say you can.
trust corry to have a $100 vibrator in his edc
Date: 2020-11-27 12:50 am (UTC)It's not often he gets to be spoiled like this during play, so he has no qualms in soaking it all up for as long as he gets to have it.
Not long, turns out. Kurt feels the pressure of the silicone ring as his Master slips it on, gripping securely around his throbbing cock, and then the vibrations hit. His whole body goes tight as soon as he feels them - the lowest possible setting, he's beyond fucked already - thrumming through him without pause or mercy. It feels so good, disarmingly good, and it takes a conscious full-body effort to relax his muscles, to ride with the vibrations, to not let them carry him away.]
Ah-- Hah--! Y-Yes, Master, I-- I-I won't, I won't, I-- [It's punishingly hard already. He's moaning with pleasure, unable to fight the occasional twitch as his body craves more, trying to break his resolve. A shuddery mantra is mumbled through clenched teeth as he hangs there, helpless, whimpering, dripping.] Not coming, n-not coming, not gonna come, not gonna come, not coming...
right next to his keys and wallet, ofc~
Date: 2020-11-27 04:57 am (UTC)[Without waiting for an answer -- because the answer is always an emphatic, whole-hearted yes -- Corrigan moves around behind Kurt, absently plucking at the ropes, making sure they're still tight and secure. He's doing it on purpose, taking his time and letting the steady thrum of the vibrations of the toy drive Kurt closer and closer to losing control. There's the familiar sound of lube being uncapped (because of course Corrigan has lube on him, always) and the sudden, wet coolness of it poured at the base of Kurt's spine, a small puddle of it, slippery and cold, welling up and spilling over the curve of his ass.]
Remember to take deep breaths. [Corrigan says in an undertone, capping the little bottle and watching the splatter of lube join the mess on the tabletop. One big warm hand comes up, smoothing the slick lube over Kurt's skin, over the fading handprint on his ass, his parted thighs, fingers slipping down to ghost over his hole, not pushing in just yet. Still just teasing.
Then he brings a hand down hard on the slicked-up skin, the sound and impact increased by the oily substance, adding another handprint to match the one he'd left previously.]
naturally~~
Date: 2020-11-27 03:41 pm (UTC)[Kurt feels simultaneously heavy and weightless with sensation. His collar goes tight against his throat, cutting off his breath for a maddening, dizzying moment, delicious in its brevity, making him crave more. Vibrations still hum through him, low but insistent, little waves of pleasure rippling through his body, shivering against the tight bonds. The ropes are occasionally teasingly plucked, causing him to sway and shift ever so gently in the air, his Master's unseen hands toying with him as his control slowly crumbles.
The cold splash of lube to his hot skin makes Kurt gasp, moaning, shuddering, but he does as he's told, sucking in deep breaths of air, lungs expanding as far as the ropes holding him will allow. It's centering, both the breaths and the cold slick pool of lube spilling over the edges of his body, Corrigan's hand spreading it over his skin, making a mess of both him and the table. It helps him concentrate on something else than how good he's feeling. How easy it would be to just let go, to accept the pleasure, to embrace the fall over the edge...]
Ah! [The hand that had been slicking him up and teasing over his asshole comes down with a sickening sharp crack against his slick cheek. Kurt's whole body goes tight then, the pain hot and blooming, going straight to his twitching cock, the vibrations making everything that much more intense. Everything disappears from his mind for those short, blissful seconds as the delicious pain fades into a sweet, tingling burn, and he floats on that pleasure for as long as he has it.] Th-Thank you, Master, thank you! Oh fuck!
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Date: 2020-11-28 03:12 am (UTC)Now that Kurt's bearing matching handprints that'll definitely make sitting down slightly uncomfortable, Corrigan wipes one slippery hand somewhat clean-ish on his pants (his dry cleaners are the most discreet, long-suffering people on the planet) and moves to increase the speed and intensity of the vibrator. His other hand returns to his previous task, slick and probing, sliding through the mess of lube and then inside Kurt, down to the knuckle in one smooth, practiced motion. He crooks it just so, eases free and then plunges back in, harder.] God, I always forget how fucking tight you are.
[Case in point re: the whole dirty mouth thing.]
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Date: 2020-11-28 03:54 am (UTC)The vibrations suddenly feel like they double with just a click of a button, the intensity of the toy's whirring motor making new waves of pleasure ripple mercilessly through Kurt's body, muscles going tight and quivery. His cock strains against the tight silicone grip, twitching and throbbing and dripping still. The effort to still his hips, to stop them bucking fruitlessly into thin air chasing release, is herculean.
Not helped by his Master choosing this moment to push a finger inside him, long and thick and fitting so perfectly inside him, luring another hungry cry from the trembling pet. He is tight, he feels every knuckle going in and out as they pass his hole, made all the more tighter by how his body clenches and twitches with pleasure he's desperate not to succumb to.
He's starting to look and sound like he's losing his mind a little bit. Perfect.] Tha-- Thank you, Master! Love being so tight for you, Master, l-love being your tight little toy. So happy my body pleases you, M-Master.
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Date: 2020-11-28 04:30 am (UTC)This is near-mechanical (which is an idea in itself, one Corrigan files away for later), fingers thrusting in at a hard, punishing pace, with no other purpose than to make that barely-held composure slip away. And all the while that soft, soothing voice continues, a sharp contrast to how he's finger-fucking Kurt open.] God, you know it does, pet, you know how much I want to break my promise and use my mouth on you, eat you out until you're screaming for me, fuck you right here and now where anyone could see.
[A third finger, and Corrigan's spreading them, twisting them, the mess of lube dripping down his arm and onto the table.] Maybe I'll let that be your reward, if you can be good for me. Would you like that, pet?
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Date: 2020-11-28 05:02 am (UTC)He hasn't yet - although not for lack of trying, good God, his fingers fucking him open feel divine - but he sure is getting there. Every slick, twisting, spreading, punishing thrust of his Master's thick fingers inside him makes him see stars, his eyes starting to roll back, lips and chin wet from dribbles of saliva he hasn't noticed or cared about. Though the ropes hold him back, Kurt tries spreading his legs on instinct, wanting so badly to feel more, for Corrigan to follow through and break his promise and blow his fucking mind with that amazing mouth of his, to ram his cock inside him over and over until he can't take it anymore, no matter who's watching.
There could be people standing there right now, watching everything. Kurt doesn't notice or care.]
Y-Y-Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck, please Master! I'd like that, please, I want that so bad, want to scream for you, Master--! [He's cut off by a loud, raspy, drawn-out moan, a tell that he's getting close, balancing on a razor's edge and on the verge of tipping over.]
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Date: 2020-11-29 03:21 am (UTC)Of course, he doesn't say any of that aloud -- that would spoil things. Instead he slows the pace of those three thick fingers working in and out of Kurt, curling and hooking and scissoring him open, and reaches with his free hand to turn off the vibrations and slip off the ring. It's slippery enough, from sweat and lube and god knows what else, and Kurt is tangibly throbbing when Corrigan curls his hand around, squeezes gently. His voice is soft, lenient:] If you can keep from coming until I count to ten, then I'll give you just that. I'll reward you for being so, so good for me, for being so perfect.
[He pauses, presses a kiss to Kurt's lower back and says, just as sweetly:] If you can't, then you don't get to come until tomorrow, and I still get to fuck you senseless, right here and now. Understand me?
[Without waiting for an answer, Corrigan starts jerking Kurt off in time with the fingers plunging inside him, hard and fast and skillful, counting in a slow, leisurely way:] One...two...three...
[It's anyone's guess if Kurt can make it, but at least there's a chance, right?]
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Date: 2020-11-29 11:28 pm (UTC)He's also thrilled, knowing just how good it's gonna feel when his Master finally lets him come.]
Y-Yes, Master, yes, I-- ah!
[He doesn't even get to enthusiastically agree to his Master's generous terms before the test starts, those thick fingers fucking into him in earnest, the big hand gripping his cock stroking him hard and fast. Master sure doesn't go easy on him. Kurt moans loudly, throwing his head back, his cries surely loud enough that every worker and client on the neighboring floors can hear his pleasure as Corrigan works his body right back up to that limit. He's shaking and twitching against the restraints, wanting so badly to let go and come hard over his Master's strong, unforgiving fingers, to feel the rush of climax right now, punishment be damned.
But he's stubborn. He wants to make Corrigan proud, wants to prove that he can do it. He's made it to three already. So he can make it to ten. He can take his mind elsewhere, think of something else, anything else, like the burn in his muscles or the press of his weight against the ropes or the weather tomorrow or what they're ordering for dinner or how he has to pick up their dry-cleaning later. He can do this. He's in control.]
Thank you, Master! F-Feels so good, thank you for fucking me w-with your hand, Master, I-- fuck, I wanna come so bad, Master, wanna come so bad for you, b-but I won't-- I won't-- hah, w-wanna make you proud, Master!
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Date: 2020-11-30 02:19 am (UTC)He doesn't say this, though, focused on thrusting his fingers inside Kurt hard and deep, to the knuckles, lube slicking his palm and dripping all over the table, hooking them together on the way in and spreading on the way out, dragging over that spot he knows will drive Kurt insane. His other hand tightens, loosens as he drags it over Kurt's cock, twisting at the end of each long pull, thumbing over the head, slippery with the lube that's drying all over Kurt's pale, shivering skin.
And he counts, voice a low, even contrast to how skillfully he's manipulating Kurt's body, pushing every button, every trick in the book to make him lose control that much faster:] Four...five...six...seven...
[Corrigan doesn't say he's proud, doesn't encourage, doesn't coax Kurt one way or the other, but he does duck down, pressing another of those soft, almost gentle kisses at the base of his pet's spine. Almost there, you're almost there, it says, louder than words.] ...eight...nine...ten.
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Date: 2020-11-30 02:15 pm (UTC)It's getting harder and harder to take though. Corrigan doesn't let up at all, still counting at that same slow, lazy pace, insufferably enunciating every single word and drawing it out on his tongue in the exact way he always does to drive Kurt absolutely crazy. He knows it's deliberate, and it still gets to him. The even pace of his voice when he counts is such a sharp turn from the brutal pace of his hands, playing his body punishingly hard. He knows exactly where to hook and spread and squeeze and press and twist his fingers around him, inside him, to make Kurt split at the seams, and he's pulling out every single trick he knows to make him deliciously break apart.
Kurt can't even ground himself in the pain of his sore muscles straining against tight ropes, can't dig his fingernails into the palms of his bound hands, for fear that the gorgeous dizzying sting of pain will send him careening over the edge. All he has is the hard clench of his jaw between cries of pleasure, and complete stubborn willpower. He refuses to lose. Absolutely refuses. The only thinking part of his brain left latches onto his Master's voice sounding out numbers one by one, burying himself in that rich baritone, waiting for that blissful moment when his voice finally sounds out ten.
It's like that word is the catalyst, the trigger that finally brings Kurt to climax. It takes a second, maybe two, like the word has to register in a mind too far gone to pay attention, but when it finally does, Kurt can't hold back anymore and starts coming hard. His whole body goes tight, his voice raw and hoarse as he unabashedly cries out his pleasure, shaking apart as he comes all over Corrigan's hand in hot, heavy bursts, making a complete mess of the table. It's white-hot, blinding, and it feels like it goes on forever, like he'll stay in this feeling for the rest of his life, floating weightless on a wave of ecstasy hard-fought for.
Even when it starts fading, when he's spilled his last and his body slumps and his cries become soft whimpers, Kurt can't bring himself to worry about anything. Whether he came too soon even after all that waiting, whether Master is disappointed or proud, he soars on this feeling for as long as he has it.]
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Date: 2020-12-01 03:21 am (UTC)Good boy. [It's soft, rumbling, more felt than heard, between those soothing, lavishing kisses, like Corrigan's held back too and can't keep himself from the gentle, tender affection one more minute. The words distract from the too-much-too-soon pulse of overstimulated nerve endings that comes when Corrigan slides his fingers free, discreetly wiping them on his pants. Perhaps he should start carrying around towels instead of cock rings.
No matter -- Corrigan is shifting easily into aftercare mode, examining the ropes for a moment before grabbing the safety scissors and forgoing fiddling with the knots in favor of just cutting through the bonds. Solstice will probably holler about wasting perfectly good rope, but Corrigan has never been particular patient. Besides, he knows that the mind-numbing pleasure will fade soon, and he wants Kurt out of his restraints before they become painful. A few careful snips and the ropes suspending Kurt's mostly-limp body midair are gently loosened until the young man is resting on the (very slippery) tabletop. A few more and the rest of the ropes fall away, leaving vivid red marks in their wake.
Corrigan slides to stand beside the table, gathering Kurt into his arms and rubbing at the ropeburn that crisscrosses behind his neck, humming into his hair:] Mmm, still with me? Nod if you can't talk yet.
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Date: 2020-12-01 05:40 pm (UTC)Proving that he could do it was reward enough in itself. But getting to come sure didn't hurt. Much.
The scissors are cold whenever they touch his skin, so is the wet table when he makes contact with it, and he whines softly with every rope that's cut through as circulation slowly returns to his prickling limbs. He's going to have bruises and rope burn for days after this. He'll be thrilled to examine every single mark when he's capable, trace them with his fingers as they heal, knowing his Master will take good care of him and make sure there's no permanent damage. There never ever is.
Settling against Corrigan's chest, limbs limp and useless for now, Kurt moans softly and nuzzles into his shoulder, nodding softly. There's no way he can form a coherent sentence right now. He just wants to be close to his Master, feel his body against his, feel his big hands on his skin, feel him come inside him, already getting needy and impatient to be lavished with praise and healing touch.]
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Date: 2020-12-02 02:11 am (UTC)Pun not intended.
He allows it for a couple more moments, then eases away enough to pick up his suit jacket, which is lying discarded over one of the chairs nearby, still meticulously clean and tailored. This is settled around Kurt's shoulders, covering him up enough that Corrigan feels safe scooping him up and heading for the door. It's midday, but the conference room opens out onto a side hallway, and it's likely they'll be able to get to the elevator and upstairs without being seen. Knowing Solly, she's probably steering everyone away from that part of the building until she gets an all-clear text. Then she'll send in the cleaning crew.
There's a definite impatience in how Kurt is cuddling up to him that Corrigan knows full well is coming from a desire to get to the promised reward. A few years ago, he likely wouldn't have taken a step back, would've fucked Kurt senseless right then and there on the table. But he's -- softened up, maybe? In his old age, and while he would never turn down a chance to make Kurt scream for him, the desire to get the bruises attended to and some sort of clean-up/hydration/aftercare taken care of is stronger now.
Besides, it's always fun to make Kurt pout about Corrigan fussing over him instead of fucking him. The younger man's gotten a lot better about knowing his boundaries, but nobody's perfect. So Corrigan nudges open the door with his foot, pressing a kiss to Kurt's temple and saying almost cheerfully:] You're drinking at least a bottle and a half of water before I do anything else to you, hear me?
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Date: 2020-12-02 11:57 pm (UTC)But he knows better than to fight his Master on this. Master always knows best, being the only one with a clear head. His future self will thank him for those bottles of water in the morning, even though his current self would rather take a dick down his throat than hydrate right now.]
Ugh... Mmmph'fine... thankyou, m'ster...
[Though his words are whiny, indignant, his tone is soft and sweet when he slurs his words, heavy arms slowly coming up to hold on to Corrigan's shoulders as he's carried outside. Kurt honestly wouldn't mind if all of New York saw him right now, not caring if they bump into anyone in the hallways or the elevator on the way to Corrigan's suite. But it would probably be for the best if their trek upstairs goes uninterrupted.
Solstice really deserves more credit for all the extra work she has to do for them.]
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Date: 2020-12-03 01:03 am (UTC)Solstice's motivation is probably something about wanting to avoid getting sued for public nudity, but deep down she cares. And Corrigan is glad for it, glad to not be interrupted during the elevator ride, or the short walk to the suite. His whole world is narrowed down to Kurt's weight in his arms, Kurt's voice in his ear, Kurt's shuddering breaths and racing heart coming back to level. That's the only thing that matters just then.
Well, that and, once Kurt has been settled seated on the edge of the bed, leaning down to rest his hands on either side of the younger man's face and kiss him, slow and lingering and with a promising heat behind it, a suggestion of more to come.]
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Date: 2020-12-05 01:52 pm (UTC)[Kurt knows he can get away with pouting and whining and sassing Corrigan right now, can feel the smile in his voice when he threatens a spanking, the rumble in his chest when he laughs. They would both enjoy that too much for it to be a punishment, but you can't fault Kurt for keeping up the image of a whimpering pain slut.
He keeps his eyes closed the whole way to the suite, letting his Master's heart beating in his ear soothe him, guide his breathing back to a slow and even pace. Corrigan's arms are so strong, carrying him like he weighs nothing at all, even though his limbs are almost entirely dead weight. It's a miracle he's able to hold himself up at all when they finally slip through the door to Corrigan's suite and he's deposited on the edge of the bed, a miracle he'll attribute entirely to those big hands holding the sides of his face.
Corrigan kisses him, and Kurt melts. There's a soft noise that accompanies the deep, warm sigh against soft lips, Kurt's whole body deflating happily, relishing in the heat, the tenderness, the promise of more.]
Mmm'love you...
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Date: 2020-12-06 02:07 am (UTC)[So there. Corrigan shifts backwards, going to the fridge and pulling out a couple bottles of mineral water, cracking one open and returning to Kurt's side. He kicks off his shoes, climbing onto the bed and settling behind the younger man, one arm around his waist, the other helping to guide the water to his lips.] Feeling in your hands coming back yet? You can move all your toes and everything? Those were some decent knots.
[A pause, and he kisses the back of Kurt's neck before adding, loftily:] Not as good as mine, of course, but decent.
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Date: 2020-12-07 10:50 am (UTC)The gentle hands on his body, the warm press of Corrigan's lips to his skin, the cold slide of water down his throat, the tingle in his body at hearing Corrigan say he loves him... it all helps smooth over that indignant whining.]
Wow, thanks a bunch, Master. [He snickers softly between mouthfuls of water, slowly curling and flexing his fingers and toes, gently testing his joints, elbows and knees, feeling the prickling starting to dissipate.] Mmm, I feel really good. Could use some work on the braiding still, didn't turn out as pretty as I wanted it, but I liked my knots today. Just tight enough. [He tips his head back and looks up at Corrigan, beaming.] Guess you're gonna have to teach me some more, huh?