“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.
“Mmm, call me Isaac,” he teased him with a laugh heavy in his words, continuing to stroke the other off as he moved lower and lower behind him, dropping to his knees and pressing an open-mouthed, messy kiss to the slight curve of his rear. He stilled completely then, still holding Summer in his hand as he gazed up at him, awaiting his permission. “Can I?”
For answer, the redhead leaned over the counter, letting Isaac’s hair go and bracing both arms on the formica. He spread his legs a little for balance and grinned over his shoulder at Isaac. “Come on, then, tease.” There was a jagged break in the words, formed from need and desire and the synergy between them.