Page 183 of Hurt

Grant paused and then laughed, his lips curling back as if he just remembered something funny.

He was looking at Grant, his vision distorted and blurry from tears, but it didn’t matter. It was Grant. He knew that face better than his own.

Grant grabbed his thighs and held them against his hips as he pressed something hard and thick against Kurt’s entrance. Eyes closed, he breathed through the sting. It was painful, but it was okay. Kurt had known pain. He used to ground himself in it, live inside its familiar bite. Pain used to be his friend.

Now it was different. Now Grant was kissing his eyes, licking the tears from his lashes. He kissed him like he was precious, like he was worth something. Delicate and fragile, but not broken. He was whole.

Grant breathed through the tightness, slowly sliding his length in so they could both get used to it.

As he hilted inside of him, and Kurt could hear his ragged breaths, he understood what his brother meant. Grant was inside him. They were together, and he could feel the warmth and life sapping from his body into Kurt’s.

“Kurt,” he grunted, arms trembling where they bracketed him.

“I love you.”

Grant opened his eyes in surprise. He looked down at Kurt’s tear-streaked face, smiling up at him with an expression he had never seen before. He had to kiss him. Lick into his mouth and show him just how much he loved him, how much he cherished him.

With his arms wrapped around him, thrusting was awkward. But it didn’t matter. Not when Kurt was looking up at him like that.

They clung to each other as they rocked, the mattress thumped against the wall and the rain only came down heavier. Sloshing down the window above them as their motions grew more erratic and stilted, control vanishing as Grant moaned into Kurt’s mouth and came.

It was the best orgasm he had ever had.

They cleaned each other up, awkwardly shuffling when the only bathroom in the cabin was downstairs. Grant went to put his pants back on but Kurt shook his head. He wanted to feel him. Skin against skin.

Grant crawled into bed, wrapping an arm around his abdomen and nuzzling his nose into his neck. Kurt was grateful he was facing away. His face was hot, and his jumbled thoughts couldn’t cut through the sleepy haze in his brain. He could feel Grant pressed to him, his body perfectly molding against his. Safe. Warm. Emotions he never thought he could feel bubbled forth from his heart like a fountain. It made him wonder why he had never done this before.

“Wanyin.” Grant’s breath tickled the back of his neck. “You always surprise me.” His arms tightened.

He thought back to the day at the taco truck. Where Grant had shown him a glimmer of hope. Kurt had thought that glimmer would spark into a forest fire, destroying him completely. But it had turned into a campfire—warm and safe. Dependable.

Just like Grant.

“I’m not good at thank you,” Kurt said to the darkness. “So, you’ll just have to accept my heart instead. It’s pre-owned, a little beat up, some rust here and there, but it…it still works.”

He could feel Grant smile against his back. “I’ll make sure to take care of it.”

Kurt wasn’t okay. There would be bad days, he knew. There would be times when his skin would crawl, and he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. Surviving isn’t pretty. It’s ugly tears and sweat-soaked sheets, a desperate struggle up an endless, everchanging hill. Fingernails bitten to the nub and back pressed to the wall.

But for now? For now, he could breathe.

A sigh of relief.

Willow rocked back on her heels. Hands on her hips, she squinted against the sun as she looked up at the lake house.

“It looks the same,” she observed.

Kurt shaded his eyes with a hand as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother. They were standing in the driveway of the lake house, looking up at Kurt’s handiwork. He hadn’t allowed anyone except Grant to visit until he was done.

“It’s not,” Kurt said with a wry smile. “Nothing stays the same.”

“Ugh,” Willow scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow as Willow took to the porch steps. He refrained from pointing out that she was the most dramatic person Kurt had ever met.

Out of habit, Willow jumped up at the top step. Palm slapping against the hanging wooden sign that said, ‘Beckett.’ They used to spend hours trying to see who could jump highest. It swung wildly on the new chains Kurt hung it with, teetering back and forth.

Kurt followed Willow into the house. She stopped in the kitchen and stared at the kitchen window.