Whichello caught both wrists in one hand, pinning them above Isaac’s head against the silk sheets. “You say that like it’s a complaint.” His free hand traced down Isaac’s side, feeling the way his mate's muscles jumped under the touch. “But your dick is telling me something different.”
Isaac was hard again, his cock flushed and leaking against his stomach despite having come less than an hour ago. Whichello had barely given him time to recover before starting round two, and judging by the way Isaac’s hips lifted into the touch, he wasn’t actually objecting.
“Maybe I’m just easily manipulated,” Isaac shot back, but his voice came out breathless, undermining the sarcasm he was going for.
Whichello leaned down, teeth grazing along Isaac’s jaw in a path that made his mate's breath catch. “You’re not manipulated. You’re willing.” His tongue followed the same path, tasting salt as he inhaled the faint scent of soap from the shower they’d taken only thirty minutes ago. “There’s a difference.”
Isaac’s legs wrapped around Whichello’s waist, heels digging into the small of his back, sending heat pooling low in Whichello’s gut. After centuries of meaningless encounters, of bodies that blurred together until he couldn’t remember faces or names, having Isaac here felt like finally understanding what all those poets had been rambling about.
Not that Whichello would ever admit that out loud. His reputation as a ruthless demon would suffer irreparable damage if anyone knew he’d gone soft over a red panda shifter who barely came up to his shoulder.
“You’re thinking too much,” Isaac said, and Whichello realized he’d gone still, just holding his mate down while his brain wandered off into territory better left unexplored.
“Thinking about all the things I want to do to you.” Whichello released Isaac’s wrists, moving his hand down to wrap around his mate's cock instead. The sound Isaac made went straight to Whichello’s own dick, which was already hard enough to hurt. “Might take all night.”
“We have all night.” Isaac’s hands went to Whichello’s hair, fingers threading through the strands and pulling just hard enough to sting. “And tomorrow night. And every night after that, handsome.”
The mate bond hummed between them, settled and solid in a way that still felt foreign to Whichello. Having someone connected to him on such a fundamental level should’ve triggered every defensive instinct he possessed. Should have made him want to push Isaac away before the vulnerability could be weaponized.
Instead, all he wanted was to get closer. To crawl inside Isaac’s skin and take up permanent residence there, consequences be damned.
Whichello’s hand moved on Isaac’s cock, slow strokes that made his mate's hips rock up into the friction. “You going to come like this? Just from my hand?”
“A real possibility.” Isaac’s grip tightened in Whichello’s hair, using the leverage to pull himself up into a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. “Or maybe I want to make you come first.”
The suggestion sent a bolt of heat straight through Whichello’s body. Most of his previous encounters had been about his pleasure, his needs, with partners who were too intimidated or too eager to please to make demands of their own. Having Isaac actively trying to undo him felt new, dangerous in the best possible way.
“You think you can?” Whichello challenged, releasing Isaac’s cock to brace both hands on either side of his mate's head. “Make me lose control?”
Isaac’s smile turned wicked, and before Whichello could process what was happening, his mate had twisted in his grip and reversed their positions. Whichello’s back hit the mattress, and Isaac straddled his hips, looking down at him with an expression that promised trouble.
“Watch me.” Isaac’s hands pressed against Whichello’s torso, sliding over muscle in an exploration that felt reverent despite the challenge in his voice. “You’re not the only one who can be insatiable.”
Whichello’s cock throbbed where it pressed against Isaac’s ass, trapped between their bodies. Every small movement Isaac made sent friction racing through his nervous system, and he had to actively fight the urge to flip them back over and take what he wanted.
But watching Isaac take control, seeing the confidence in every movement despite everything he’d been through, made Whichello willing to wait. To let his mate set the pace even when his own body screamed for release.
Isaac’s mouth started at Whichello’s collarbone, working down in a path of kisses and small bites that would have drawn blood from anyone less durable. His tongue traced over Whichello’s left nipple, circling before his teeth closed around it and tugged just hard enough to make Whichello’s hips jerk involuntarily.
“Sensitive,” Isaac murmured against his skin, sounding pleased with himself. “Good to know.”
Whichello’s hands fisted in the sheets, fabric bunching under his palms. “You’re playing with fire, little panda.”
“Maybe I like getting burned.” Isaac continued his path downward, mouth moving over Whichello’s abdomen in a trail that made every muscle contract. His hands followed, touching everywhere his lips didn’t reach, mapping Whichello’s body like he was memorizing every inch of exposed flesh.
When Isaac’s mouth finally closed around Whichello’s cock, wet heat enveloping him without warning, the sound that tore from Whichello’s throat was barely human. His hips lifted off the mattress, pushing deeper into the suction, and Isaac took it without complaint, took him deeper, tongue working along the underside in patterns that made Whichello’s vision white out at the edges.
“Fuck.” The word came out strangled, his control already fraying. “Isaac.”
Isaac’s head bobbed in a rhythm that had no consistency, no pattern Whichello could predict or prepare for. Sometimes slow, taking him in with agonizing care. Sometimes fast enough that his throat worked around the head of Whichello’s cock, swallowing around him in a way that made coherent thought impossible.
Fourteen hundred years of experience, of learning control in situations that would break lesser demons, and Whichello was coming apart under his mate's mouth like he’d never been touched before. Every nerve ending fired at once, pleasure building at the base of his skull and racing down his back in currents he couldn’t redirect.
Isaac pulled off with an obscene sound, lips slick and swollen. “You taste incredible.” The words came out rough, and he licked along the underside of Whichello’s cock like he was savoring the taste. “Better than I expected.”
Whichello’s laugh came out strangled. “What were you expecting?”
“Don’t know. Brimstone? Ice?” Isaac’s tongue swirled around the head, catching the fluid leaking from the slit. “This is better.”
