Summer made an incoherent sound compounded of pleasure and effort as he took more of Isaac’s weight. He had to plant his free hand against the counter, eyes slipping shut again, to hold them both up. “Fuck, Isaac,” he breathed, and fisted his hand in the werewolf’s hair. The problem, if it could be called that, with opening up a link between them was that the emotions bounced back and forth, heightening and intensifying with each pass.
“Mmm, we already did that earlier, I thought it was my turn to take you…” he murmured huskily and bit down on his earlobe, neck and shoulder, glancing over to their reflections as he continued to shamelessly rut against his boyfriend’s rear. “What do you want me to do to you, Summer?”
“Anything, god, please,” Summer begged, helplessly shoving back against Isaac every time the werewolf bit him. This was not the result of whatever spell had reshaped him; this was empathy and desire, pure and simple and unstoppable. His cock throbbed, his neck throbbed where he’d been bitten (though he could see that skin hadn’t been broken). “God you’re cruel,” he whimpered.