Page 181 of Hurt

“Kurt, I’m serious,” Grant said roughly, lifting Kurt’s chin so that their eyes met. “I need you to tell me if you want me to stop, at any time.”

He lifted up and kissed Grant, capturing his lips with a nod.

“Tell me you understand,” he insisted firmly, pressing Kurt back to the sheets with a hand.

“I understand.”

“What do you understand?” His eyebrow was raised and there was a stern look on his face. It didn’t match with the stiff erection that was pressing against Kurt’s thigh, or the flush on his high cheekbones.

“That…” Kurt swallowed and found the words hard to say. Why were they so hard? He understood. He did. He could stop it at any time.

He was in control.

“That…I can say stop.” The words faltered out of his mouth, but they sent a thrill down his back. As if the sudden realization that he could control what happened to him was unveiled and it opened up something inside him. The unending labyrinth of anxiety seemed to suddenly have a lighted path, a flashing exit sign that he could follow.

“Good boy,” Grant praised, bending down to kiss him again. This time it was harsher. Like Grant was finally not holding back and allowing his desire to flood out of him and over Kurt. It was infectious. Kurt found his hand skating over Grant’s warm skin, fingers tracing the grooves and lines of muscles. The undulation of life beneath them sent warmth scorching through his fingers, his veins turned into rivers of fire and his blood boiled.

The warmth of arousal was shocking to him. He was lightheaded and he didn’t think he could get enough oxygen. He remembered what Willow had said about connecting with another person and he suddenly really,reallywanted to feel that with Grant. He needed to feel his skin against his.

Blindly, he tugged at his shirt. Grant groaned when Kurt finally got it off. His hands reached down to tentatively stroke over his ribs, fingers trailing against the skin tanned from months of landscaping in the summer sun.

“You are so beautiful,” Grant said with reverence in his voice. His kisses dropped down to his jaw, nuzzling under his ear and pressing against his pulse point. Grant sucked gently, his teeth scraping against skin bruised by his tongue.

Kurt whined and wriggled. The sensation was too much. No one had ever kissed his neck and it was ticklish and warm.

Grant looked down at his handiwork. “It left a mark,” he said with awe, stroking the wet spot with his fingers. His eyes were blown and there was a dark hunger in them. A hunger for Kurt.

He did that.

Kurt grabbed Grant and tugged him on top of him properly. His weight pressed him down into the mattress and his skin was slick with sweat. There was a press in their hips and Kurt realized he was hard.

Relief flooded him and he smiled against Grant’s lips, giddy like a kid who just discovered he could tie his own shoes. Experimentally, he rolled his hips against Grant, pressing their combined stiffened heat against each other.

He was rewarded with a grunt from Grant, a guttural sound of arousal and defeat.

Grant’s kisses trailed down his neck and across his prominent collar bones, nipping and sucking until he reached Kurt peach colored nipples. His tongue swiped against the erect studs, tickling them with his wet heat until they were pink and pert from the attention.

Kurt felt trapped. His cock was pressed down by wet denim and the way the coarse texture was rubbing against him was too much. It grated on nerves taut and frayed from Grant’s touches.

“I’ve dreamt about you like this,” Grant mumbled huskily, his words coming from a deep place Kurt had never heard before. “Did you know that? I wondered what you would sound like, taste like.” He punctuated this with a punishing lick on his over-stimulated nipple.

Kurt cried out, fingers tightening on Grant’s shoulders.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” Grant soothed, reaching down to unbutton Kurt’s jeans and slide them off his hips. With too much grace, he slid them off his trembling legs. Grant rubbed his hands up his outer thighs, touching every inch like he was the most priceless sculpture. He kissed the prominent hip bone rising above his boxers, his mouth far too close to Kurt’s aching cock.

“You’re doing so well, Wanyin,” Grant praised as he hooked a finger under the elastic of his boxers, tugging them down so that his hard cock popped free. Kurt’s breath caught when he saw its wet head. He didn’t know the last time he had looked at himself naked like this, bare and exposed. All his flaws just laid out in front of him.

Grant kissed his ribs, ignoring the way Kurt trembled under him. He stroked up his thighs, slowly getting higher until his fingers loosely gripped his erection. Kurt gasped when he felt those lithe fingers take him, their heat circling his shaft and beginning to pump up and down. Slowly.

He kissed his ribs and chest, biting down a little harder every time he heard Kurt’s breath stuttering and his lips begin to quiver.

“You’re so sensitive.” Grant’s voice was full of wonder. “Would you believe me if I told you your cock is gorgeous?”

Through the haze of red, Kurt scoffed. How could something like that be beautiful?

He wouldn’t know. He hadn’t touched himself since he was eighteen.

Grant’s fingers tightened and his stroking turned into pumping, quick with a little twist at the end and an experimental swipe of a thumb over the leaking head.