He didn't know what exactly caused it, nor did he really care to find out. All he knew was that he craved your attention and your approval. The closer you got, the more he wanted to involve you in his channel and just be around you in general.

You eventually notice some things going missing. A shirt, maybe a jacket, occasionally boxers, but you just figure they're being misplaced. They could've just been thrown in the closet or the laundry basket…

Kurt’s in his room, sucking on his fingers while he holds your boxers in his other fist, fucking into it like he's in heat. He's so worked up that he's lightheaded, cock hard and leaking against the fabric.

His thrusts are feverish, each one forcing moans and pants from his lips. He presses his fingers against his tongue, picturing it being you. Bobbing his head as he whines around them, lapping at his fingers and occasionally forcing his own mouth open to feel himself drool over his hand.

He feels so guilty about stealing from you. He's a sick freak, you'd tell him as much if you had found out, but he couldn't help himself. They were on the floor, out in the open like you wanted him to take them. Like they were a gift laid out for him.

As bad as he feels about it, he can't stop getting off to it. Making himself cum over and over and over until he can barely string together a sentence and your boxers are completely ruined. He was totally gonna clean them and give them back. Maybe (no he wasn't).

He wished so badly that you would catch him. He's so disgusting, he's a creepy weirdo who was so obsessed with you he stole your personal belongings just to get himself off with. The thought makes his mind feel so hazy. He can barely think and the only thing swimming through his head is telling him to keep fucking his fist.

He could feel as guilty as he wanted, but he couldn't escape how much he liked it. He liked invading your privacy, stealing from you. Jerking off to you and your voice through the wall into the next room. Ruining your things…Everything about him lived to worship you, he lived for your attention and the guilt was just a little bonus feeling that only made his dick harder.

He wanted you to find out. To punish him for it. He was fucking gross, he should pay. He has dreams of you using him like a fleshlight to make up for every single thing he took from you, no regard for his pleasure or discomfort. Sometimes he forces his fingers a little further into his mouth, imagining you making him gag and tear up for your own amusement.

He doesn't notice that he's eventually sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure, and he doesn't hear the knock on his door or the sound of the door being opened.

He didn't even give you time to get either of your pants off, lazily humping you as his hard cock strained against his jeans, a small wet spot becoming obvious to you at the front.

His lips latch onto your neck, sloppily kissing and moaning against your skin. One of your hands rests on his hip, lightly guiding him but mostly letting him do the work, and the other is buried in his hair, savoring the groans you get out of him from tugging on it.

He pulls away for a second to lift the joint to his lips, and then hands it to you. You copy him, but before you're able to actually exhale, he's pressing his lips to yours, needy and desperate. It's almost difficult for you to put it down while you're distracted, but you manage, going back to holding his hips.

Neither of you bother trying to get undressed, and Eddie's grinding becomes more and more feverish as he gets closer to cumming, his cock so painfully hard, begging for more friction. Your kisses grow less and less coordinated until he's just groaning needily against your mouth, holding tightly onto your arms.

His hips stutter, and he moans as he pushes himself over the edge, ruining his pants as his body shudders against you. You hold onto him to keep him from falling all while he pants and mutters curses.

A good amount of time passes with Eddie still rutting against you. Somehow, you managed to get his jeans off, now grinding the ruined cloth of his boxers against your leg. You can feel his cock twitch, and every so often, he swears and lets out a sharp whine.

Despite how sensitive he is, he can't bring himself to stop, head swimming with hazy pleasure. He makes himself cum at least two more times before he even considers moving away from you.

Obviously we're starting with choking, one of the main ways to get him to shut up. The second you wrap your hands around his neck, he's close to cumming in his pants, you don't even need to fully choke him. He would love it though. His life is practically in your hands, and the thought of you strangling the life out him while you fuck his brains out, feeling lightheaded and drooling, would have his eyes rolling back. He'd be in heaven, especially if you make him think you'll actually let him pass out. Get him right to the brink, where he's clawing at your arms, trying to squirm from underneath you and fighting for air. He wouldn't even be mad if you actually did. He would for sure jerk off to the idea of you choking him until he passes out, probably having his own hand around his neck while he does it.

Holding a knife to his throat while you fuck him from behind, your other hand buried in his hair and pulling roughly to keep his head up. Or if we're going more like the actual movie route with him...y'know, killing people, making him lick a blood covered knife clean or holding his head down in a puddle of it while your cock is buried in him, making him lap it up like a dog. I feel like any sort of blood play would have him cumming so hard he'd probably faint.

Making him fuck himself open with the handle of a knife or the barrel of the gun he keeps in his car, forcing him to humiliate and embarrass himself for you, making fun of him for how easy it was to get him to do it in the first place. Especially with the gun, knowing one wrong move could ruin him makes his cock so painfully hard, it's like he's in heat, eager to fuck himself with anything he can get to show you how much he needs you. He'd do pretty much anything for you, even if it included risking his life for the slightest chance he'd get a real cock inside of him.

Honestly anything involving the gun. Making him rub his pathetic cock against it, pointing it at his head while you fuck him, making him suck it off, drooling and choking around it as you shove it as far down his throat as it'll go. All he really needs to cum untouched is for you to threaten him with death and give him any sort of attention.

I also could probably see Kurt jerking off to death threats. Obviously his community isn't very welcoming, and a lot of them are just people making fun of him, so with the side of the internet he's on, he's bound to get a few. Maybe he'd start out with a weak “guys, that's not cool,” but when he’s sitting in his room alone, at his computer so he can delete them, he can’t help but rub himself through his pants as he reads through them. His mind wanders, and he can only think about someone actually finding out where he lives. He makes it pretty easy to find out, after all. He frees his cock, bucking up into his fist as he imagines the faceless person making him suck them off, threatening his life and calling him a worthless fucking loser for getting off on it. Hitting him, stepping on and kicking his useless dick while he begs for more.

The main takeaway here is that this guy is a fucking freak.