A speedy one!

If someone asked Heather Ravers about her cousin Kurt Johnson a few weeks ago, she probably would've yelled the words "bastard" and "manwhore" for a several seconds before descending into a lengthy discussion on sexual predators and women's rights. Although these topics are of great importance to her and in the grand scheme of society, they also served as yet another barrier for her, a deflection from her real feelings.

The lost of her refuge and the betrayal she felt as the Kurt she knew ended weighed heavily on her mind, in ways she never could quite grasp. She would cry at night sometimes, feeling very alone, but not understand why. She would question her actions occasionally, trying to poke at her brain for the thought processes that came to that conclusion, but often encountered a scab of charged emotions that she loathed to scrape away. But secretly she suspected -- no, she had to have known all along -- what lay beneath. Or, more correctly, what didn't.

With the loss of Kurt, she lost half of herself. He was her equal, in mind and body and soul, and connected through an unshakeable ligature that not even drastic shifts in behavior could snap. All it showed for both was how much they needed each other, their shared misery ending as simply and as naturally as this.

Kurt parted her lower lips once more after turning her on her knees. He filled her like molten metal fills a mold in a kiln. Every venous bulge of Kurt's tool seemed to find its complementary niche inside of her, electrifying nerves that she never knew longed for stimulation. She inched away from coherence as he inched deeper, regarding her wonderful cousin as a drunk bar patron regards another refill.

"Kurt..." Heather gurgled. Drool edged from her loose jaw, unable to contain even the slightest excesses of saliva. He responded with a particularly forceful thrust, sending her face into the pillow. "Auugh!!"

"Heather, fuck," Kurt grunted. "Fuck, I need you! Heather, I need..."

"Fuck me, Kurt," Heather bit into the pillow. Her mouth moved on its own. "Show me how much you need me, c'mon. Make it up to me. You've could've done this to me so long ago, Kurt, we need to catch u--ohh!"

She saw the pillow shrink quickly, and the bare ceiling of the room whipped into view. Kurt lashed his arms over her torso, one hand gripping a breast and the other spread across her stomach. Still firmly embedded, his hips now moved in short bursts, each one propelling Heather into the stratosphere.

Her body belonged to Kurt right now, medicine to be metabolized by his damaged psyche. And, evidently, her own.

"Use me, Kurt," she breathed, a bit shocked by her own admission of submissiveness. She puffed those words through her hair, drawn over her face like a ripped curtain of brown. "Fuck me, suck me, eat me, anything, anything you want, anything for you, god!"

"Fuck, Heather!" Kurt snarled. He throbbed.

"Give it to me. All of it, Kurt, let me take it!"

"Heather!" Years of pain left him in an instant, expelling in viscid eruptions. Heather detonated in response, screaming and sending shockwaves blasting around his cock. It shattered that pain with the same **** as a nuclear bomb shatters the ground, rendering it unrecognizable.

"Kurt! My Kur-- ohh," Heather said as her voice returned to her. She also returned to gravity at that same instant, landing on the bed with Kurt's weight -- and warmth -- laying across her. Though part of her sorely wanted to stay that way, her lungs reminded her that oxygen was important, and so she limply fished herself out from underneath him. Not that he noticed, she observed soon after. Sleep had already overtaken him.

She tiredly kissed him on his cheek, then snuggled close. The tickle of warm fluid seeped from her between her thighs, and she smiled in spite of herself.

Sleep came quickly, before not before another boy entered her mind, and whatever was going on seemed to screech to a halt. She attempted to swallow the accompanying dread away, reserving that for future Heather to worry about.

Zack was still very important to her, she couldn't deny, but a life without Kurt was nothing short of impossible.