Page 182 of Hurt

“I really want to suck you off, love. I bet you taste so wonderful, beautiful boy. You’re so strong and beautiful.”

Kurt mewled as he felt something building. A tightening in his thighs that was powerful. So powerful it scared him. He clung to Grant and he kissed him in response, soft syrupy kisses that were more reassurance than heated.

His body knew he was coming before he did. Every muscle tightened and he came off the bed, held down only by Grant’s weight. It exploded from him with gut-punching power, hard and fast. He felt like his soul went with it. White flashes spotting in front of his eyes as his entire body contracted and then released. Hot sticky wetness splashed on their skin, warmer than the friction between them.

“Soperfect,”Grant cooed as he stroked Kurt’s hip. “That was so good, Wanyin.”

Kurt’s breaths were harsh in his throat. Rough and dry. He was seeing spots and his whole body felt limp and oversensitive.

Grant kissed up his neck and then reached over to get something from the drawer beside the bed. There was a snick of a cap opening and then Grant’s fingers were gently spreading his legs and settling between them. He pressed kisses on the inside of Kurt’s thighs, tongue laving at the ticklish spot on the inside of his knee.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” he murmured against the soft skin, forehead resting against the joint as he looked down at Kurt with eyes dark with lust. Long strands of his hair were falling onto his forehead sticking to his sweaty skin.

You should see yourself.

Something cold and wet swiped against his entrance and he stiffened, his legs tightening around Grant.

“Easy, love, easy. I’m going to be slow. Do you want me to continue?”

Kurt sucked on his lower lip, nodding as he closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.

Grant’s long finger rubbed up against his entrance, gently circling it until the lube grew warm and it was sufficiently slick. A slender tip pressed in.

He hissed and buried his left heel into the mattress, his right kicked into Grant’s back as it hung over his shoulder.

His breathing quickened as he felt Grant gently begin to loosen him. He felt exposed like this. On display for the world, and it was too much. Like Grant’s fingers were so much more invasive than anything else, and the act of him gently preparing him was terrifying. Eyes squeezed shut, he grew lightheaded.

His skin was on fire and there was ringing in his ears. Then there was pain. Ripping, searing pain. Warm wet blood dripping down his thighs and the smell of car upholstery in his nose. Fingers around his throatsqueezing, squeezing,and a face. That face. His dark eyes and cruel smile laughing at him. Laughing at his pain. At his pleas for it to stop. It was raining then, too.

No one should touch him. He’s broken, ugly, and used up. A discarded toy lying in an alley, forgotten and alone. Disgusting. He was a disgusting cast-off.

“Wanyin.” A soft hand stroked his hair from his face. “Wanyin, open your eyes. Look at me. I’m here. I’m here.” Short, clipped sentences punctured the ringing in his ears.

Kurt trusted that voice. He wanted that voice.

He opened his eyes, and Grant was there. The cruel, dark face was gone. Sweet hazel eyes crinkled with worry replaced it.

“Breathe, love, breathe. Open your mouth and breathe.”

He did—not hyperventilating this time, but deep lungfuls of air. The ache in his chest disappeared.

“You’re okay, baby. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”

He could feel the strength in Grant’s arms, and he started to cry. Big, fat, ugly tears he would deny ever being able to produce streamed down his cheeks. They blurred his vision and soaked in his hair and the pillow beneath him.

But they weren’t borne of fear. These were tears of relief. Tears formed because Grant was here, and his voice brought Kurt back to himself. Tears of relief because he could feel pleasure. He could love. He could give pleasure.

He wasn’t broken. He was alive, and he was here.

Kurt kissed Grant, their lips slick with his tears.

“Wanyin, we can stop. It’s okay. You did so good.”

“Grant,” Kurt murmured against his lips, “I want you.”

He shook his head, nuzzling his nose against Kurt’s cheek. “Don’t push yourself. It’s all right. You were amaz—”

“Grant,” Kurt nipped his lower lip, rocking his hips against the erection straining Grant’s sleep pants. “Shut up.”