Fire Of Love

by Preston Walker

  Moody watched him, trying not to be curious and feeling a desire to know anyway. “Why do you drink that if it doesn’t taste good?”

  “Tastes good,” Isaac said. He lifted up the glass, a faux toast to nothing at all. “Just been sitting out a little. Then, it’s not as good.”

  Isaac’s voice was oddly teasing, making Moody feel even more curious. He stood up and went over to the counter. “I want to try. Unless there’s something else we need to talk about first?”

  “I don’t think so,” Isaac rumbled. He sounded a little clearer now for having drunk something. “I think it’s pretty clear that I’m going to have to talk to Destiny, tell him that I’m going back to Daphne with Arlo.”

  Something trembled inside Moody’s stomach, not quite dread but certainly a cousin to that feeling. He didn’t have time to examine the sensation, though he knew he would have to do it soon. He knew what he wanted. He just had to be sure it was what he needed, what Isaac needed.

  “Here.” Reaching out for the bottle of Grey Goose, Isaac poured a small amount into his glass, then handed it over to Moody.

  Moody looked down into the glass, then swirled it so the liquid lapped up against the edges.

  “What are you doing?” Isaac chuckled.

  “Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do? To release the flavors?”

  “That’s wine. And I think that’s all snobbery. It doesn’t really work like that.”

  “Oh.” A little embarrassed, Moody stopped swirling the vodka around. His cheeks felt hot, like they were turning pink. “Is this all I get? Stingy, much?”

  Isaac laughed again, a little more genuinely than before. His pale eyes sparkled, regaining some life despite the background of bloodshot whites. “I think that might be all you can handle. You’re such a little guy.”

  He was being goaded on. He knew that. There was something here that he should be wary of, if Isaac was laughing at him and calling him a little guy. However, Moody wasn’t about to stand for that. He was not a little guy. He was a full-grown wolf, a biker, a man with experiences the general population would never understand. He could handle a sip of vodka, and he’d go back in for more, too. Just to show Isaac that he didn’t know everything.

  Lifting the glass up to his lips, Moody prepared to take a sip. The scent of it smacked him in the nose, a quick and furious strike like a high-schooler preparing to jump into a fight which he had not started, but intended to finish. It smelled like alcohol, not the hop-y bitterness of beer but sharp and medicinal, like something a doctor might use to disinfect a wound.

  Moody glanced up at Isaac. “Wow.”

  “Go on,” Isaac urged him, his lips quirking into a smile.

  Moody stared down the tip of his nose, watching the thin trickle of clear vodka approach his lips. Wetness lapped delicately against his skin. Opening his mouth, he took a deep swig.

  For a moment, nothing. Then, heat burst inside his mouth, traveled down his throat like a comet, exploded in the pit of his stomach. His sinuses filled with the medicinal scent. The taste on his tongue was like gasoline and yet not.

  Moody slammed the glass down on the counter and coughed. His eyes burned. Everything burned. His stomach was full of fire. His heart pounded, his blood pumping fast through his veins.

  “Holy shit,” he said, coughing again halfway through the simple sentence. “Why the fuck did you drink that? Why the fuck did I drink that?”

  “You still want more?” Isaac tipped the bottle in his direction.

  “Ugh.”

  Isaac laughed, then brought the bottle up to his lips and drank directly from it. He grimaced ferociously, his entire body shuddering. He looked like a man in the middle of some sort of attack, hands opening and closing on the counter.

  The burn of the alcohol started to fade somewhat, leaving behind a fierce warmth that Moody would have almost called pleasant. He licked his lips, still tasting gasoline and sharpness. His sinuses cleared a little. His skin felt like it was buzzing, his thoughts growing the slightest bit fuzzy at the edges.

  If this was what happened afterwards, he thought he almost might be able to understand the desire to drink all of his problems away. That being said, he wished he could have that warmth, that tingling, without having to partake of nasty vodka.

  Isaac looked at him, smiling a little. Moody gazed back at him. Their eyes met, a clash of dark and light. Then, Isaac’s gaze traveled down to his lips and lingered there.

  Moody shivered, feeling the warmth in his stomach double in intensity. A tracery of tingles formed in his groin, making his muscles tighten.

  I don’t have to drink. Seeing you look at me that way is more than enough. Like the way you used to.

  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it,” Isaac teased.

  Growling softly, Moody went around the side of the counter, intending to swat playfully at the alpha. He lifted his hand and started to bring it down in the direction of Isaac’s shoulder. Everything seemed to be moving forward by stop-motion increments, his arm lingering in the air for an eternity before finally angling down.

  Reaching out, Isaac grabbed onto his wrist. The feel of his fingers, four of them on the back of Moody’s arm, his thumb in the front, was much too focused, too abrupt. It seemed like he could feel every intimate wrinkle at each joint, the individual crinkling of tiny hairs being compressed. The very pattern of Isaac’s skin was his to know.

  After that, things happened very, very fast.

  Before he even really knew what was going on, he found himself pushed back against the counter, his ass flush against the smooth surface. His wrist was held captive somewhere off to the side, while he gripped the lip of the counter with the other. Standing in front of him, so close their hips were touching, Isaac stared hard into his eyes.

  Moody looked at him and saw his own reflection in his irises, pale, with glowing pink cheeks, lips parted. His hair was all mussed up, loose strands dangling across his forehead, obscuring his eyebrows.

  He closed his eyes.

  Warmth surrounded him as Isaac leaned in, their bodies pressing closer together. Something huge and hard pushed into his groin, just above the apex of his thighs. Not meaning to, not feeling in control of his own actions, Moody let go of the countertop and tried to reach between them. Isaac grabbed his wrist, then brought both of his captive arms down by his sides. He brought their faces so close together they were breathing the same air, their lips brushing together so temptingly and teasingly when he spoke.

  “You need to be careful. My inhibitions are pretty low right about now.”

  His breath coming faster, Moody tried desperately to think of a response and came up blank. He felt uncertain, unhinged, a wayward vessel adrift in unfamiliar seas. The sensation of dizziness and rapid heartbeat was so similar to when he had his panic attacks, yet this couldn’t have been a more different experience. He felt drunk, though he certainly couldn’t be. Or maybe he was, drunk on desire, lust, need.

  Want.

  The most primal instinct of them all.

  “What…” His voice broke. He swallowed hard, tried again. “What do I need to be careful to not do?”

  “You definitely shouldn’t kiss me.”

  Moody leaned forward a little, letting their lips settle together between them. He stayed like that, feeling softness, the feathery wispiness of Isaac’s eyelashes, the blunt tip of his nose. Everything was exactly as it had been two years ago, when he had been so foolishly certain their fling would continue on into the distant future. Isaac had been so handsome, so arrogant, and it was so easy to get caught up in the way he acted, as if everything in the world belonged to him.

  Once upon a time, Moody counted himself as being one of those things which belonged.

  He’s right. We shouldn’t be doing this.

  Thinking those thoughts, he tried to pull away and instead found himself only sinking deeper into the kiss. Isaac’s tongue slid across his lower lip, asking for entrance. Moody was only to
o willing to give permission, shivers racing up and down his spine at the hot, wet feeling of penetration. Their tongues pushed together, thrusting, bucking, sucking, imitating the act of sex.

  Isaac made a low growling sound deep in his chest. With their bodies pressed so close together, Moody felt the growl resonate inside himself, reverberating down his bones in the same manner as sound travels along piano wires. He trembled, trying to hold onto Isaac, his legs feeling weak.

  Isaac pressed further against him, shoving him back against the counter. Their lips clashed together now, their tongues fucking inside each other’s mouth. Bucking his hips, Moody tried to rub himself on Isaac; Isaac responded in kind, the greater weight of his body holding Moody in place. Their swollen cocks rubbed together, their bodies grinding, gyrating, creating sparks that would surely kindle into a rapid blaze.

  His groin feeling so full and tense and tight, so swollen, so full of need, all Moody could do was surrender. The sensations overtook him, swept him away. He was hardly aware of the soft sounds pulling up from his throat, delivered muffled into Isaac’s mouth. Whimpers and whines of desire, emerging faster and faster as the seconds passed and his desire continued to grow. He was like a tsunami, a swelling wave, gathering force and momentum, spurred on by the natural disaster that was Isaac.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t hold off any longer. If he didn’t move now, he would die. He leaned his head back, breaking off the kiss. At the same time, he wrenched his wrists away, freeing his hands.

  Isaac didn’t move away. His shoulders heaved as he breathed. His lips were flushed dark red from the force of his own kisses. His eyes were sexy-hazy, the pale and clouded shade of the sky before a tornado. When he spoke, the words were far more like growls than comprehensible syllables. “You shouldn’t suck my cock.”

  Shouldn’t meant should, in this game they were playing.

  Moody couldn’t even think about saying no. He had been too shy during their few weeks together to ever do more than get beyond this stage, too afraid of being hurt. Not emotionally, but physically. Now, he didn’t care. Fuck the past. Fuck the present. And fuck the uncertain future.

  Everything which was wrong between them, everything which had yet to be resolved, didn’t matter right now. The rest of the world ceased to exist. They were only two horny men with a desperate need for each other.

  Moody dropped to his knees, unaware of the dull thud and subsequent pain as he hit the tile floor. Leaning back against the counter, Isaac spread his legs and waited.

  Reaching up, Moody fumbled with the button on Isaac’s jeans. His fingers shook from excitement, wobbling things which seemed to have forgotten their purpose. A full eternity seemed to pass by before he was able to pop the button. Isaac’s zipper undid itself about a third of the way on its own, the pressure of his cock within being more than the teeth could withstand. More confidently now that the first step was overcome, Moody pulled Isaac’s zipper down the rest of the way. It was hard work, what with Isaac’s erection in the way, leaving him feeling breathless. Or maybe that was because he had to touch the hard, swollen shaft to guide it out of the way so no harm would come to it.

  Isaac shuddered a little, lifting his hands to grip the countertop at his back. “Do it,” he commanded.

  An omega never resists an alpha’s command.

  Moody reached into Isaac’s underwear and pulled out his cock, holding the precious organ in his hand and looking at it, drinking in the sight. There was such a difference between watching porn and actually having this experience for himself, feeling the heavy weight of the rigid length across his palm. Isaac’s hair was darkly golden, a striking accent to the blue veins which ran up and down his shaft. The tip was red velvet, oozing a single pearly droplet of wetness.

  Curling his hand gently around the base of Isaac’s shaft—the softness of his balls and the thick textures of his hair adding another dimension of sensation and pleasure—Moody brought his mouth to the tip. He flicked out his tongue, lapping up the droplet. The taste was salty and musky and somehow satisfying. Wanting more, needing more, suddenly feeling as if he would waste away if he didn’t have this, Moody wrapped his lips around the head of Isaac’s cock and sucked softly, experimentally.

  Gasping, Isaac’s hips bucked.

  Moody lifted his eyes up to the other man’s face, pausing for a moment. Isaac had his head tossed back, his eyes closed. He had entered into another world.

  And Moody allowed himself to do the same, letting instinct take over. Pulling Isaac deeper into his mouth, Moody explored his length with his tongue and sensitive fingertips. He traced the web of veins, the pulsing ridges of hard flesh, the utter softness at the base of Isaac’s shaft where it joined with his groin.

  His hand worked slowly up and down, caressing Isaac. He kept his mouth around the head, sometimes pulling him in deeper, as far as he could allow and even further, sucking and licking. He lavished attention on Isaac’s cock, feeling Isaac’s excitement mount, his own body responding to that.

  Their thoughts tangled together, their souls rubbing together. As they were humans, so too were they wolves. In the back of his mind, Moody could feel fur brushing against fur, could smell the heady musk of his alpha’s pelt.

  His alpha.

  For now, but for true. Nothing else mattered outside this moment.

  Isaac slid his fingers into Moody’s hair, grabbing handfuls. At any other time, that grip might have hurt or at least been annoying; right now, it was the most exciting thing Isaac could possibly have done. He had Isaac’s cock in his mouth and now he was being held in his place. He couldn’t escape even if he had wanted to.

  He curled his tongue around Isaac’s tip, sucking deeply, longer than before. Salty and sweet tastes mingled in his mouth and he swallowed eagerly, loving the feel of Isaac’s essence as it went down his throat.

  Isaac grabbed hard at the back of his head. His entire body shook and jumped, his hips bucking uncontrollably. A sharp cry burst up from his lungs, and suddenly a rush of warmth filled Moody’s mouth.

  Moody could do nothing but swallow what was given to him, not that he would have chosen to do anything else. He kept sucking and sucking, wanting to carry out this moment for as long as possible. His groin throbbed powerfully, pushing hard against the restraint of his jeans. Reaching down, he gripped himself, trying to stroke himself, to achieve his own release.

  A sharp pull on his hair stopped him. He looked up, lips still wrapped around Isaac’s cock, and found that Isaac was watching him in return.

  “You shouldn’t let me fuck you,” Isaac whispered.

  A fierce tremor ran Moody’s body. He gasped softly. Isaac took the opportunity to slip away, sliding down the length of the counter. Releasing Moody’s hair, he then held out his hands to help him stand up. “Bedroom. Now.”

  He was only too eager to agree, gripping Isaac’s hand tightly while following him to the bedroom. He could feel the thin imprints of his own hair pressed into Isaac’s fingers, marks left behind by how hard he’d been holding on.

  Isaac held his drooping jeans up by one hand during the journey, then let them drop down around his ankles the moment he crossed the threshold of his room. Kicking them aside, he did the same with his underwear, which had already slid well down below his hips. Spinning around, he grabbed Moody and then tossed him in the direction of the bed.

  Breathless, laughing, Moody landed on his feet and then flopped on top of the mattress. He lay on his back, spreading his legs and fondling himself through the fabric of his jeans. Tremors of flame lanced through his entire body, making his toes curl. He tossed his head back and moaned.

  His moan was stifled as Isaac kissed him, climbing on top of him. His strong hands tore at Moody’s jeans, ripping the button completely off. Fabric tore, the thin sound lost beneath Moody’s heartbeat pounding in his ears.

  “Please,” he begged, incoherently, not knowing quite what it was he asked for. Release. Pleasure. More torturous teasing. Anything.


  Isaac tore his jeans away, yanked his underwear down and tossed it across the room. He pushed the tip of his cock, still hard as ever, right up against Moody’s needy opening and grinded against him.

  Moody cried out again, pleasure and pain at the intrusion mingling. He had played with himself a few times, though he never dared to go deeper than just past the first knuckle of his index finger. The discomfort, the act of causing himself pain in the pursuit of an orgasm that might or might not come, had always put him off.

  Now, he would have given anything to have the full, thick length of Isaac inside him.

  But Isaac pulled back. His handsome face was twisted and he bit his lower lip, body shuddering as he fought for control. “You’re still a virgin,” he growled. It wasn’t a question. Moody had never been all the way, had never been properly mounted or claimed, and his scent was pure because of it. A human would never know but a wolf certainly could find out, if they wanted to.

  A little nervous now, Moody nodded. “Is that…okay?”

  “I get to be your first?” Isaac sounded incredulous.

  After all this time, you’re still going to get to be my first.

  It was so fucking strange how the world worked, turning in these strange interconnected circles.

  “Is that okay?” Moody repeated.

  Some of the haziness momentarily faded from Isaac’s gaze, to be replaced by a sheen of tenderness. “It’s more than okay. I’ll be gentle. I promise. You won’t feel a thing.”

  “Isn’t feeling something the point?” Moody teased, falling back on humor to conceal his nervousness. How strange that he had blocked himself off so thoroughly from society that he found interactions difficult, yet here in the bed of a man he hardly knew anymore, he felt fine. More than fine.

  Maybe it was because there was no room for façade, when they were naked, laid bare before each other.

  Leaning down, Isaac kissed him again, and then he straightened up and reached over to the nightstand. The little table was a simple affair, with decorative curves like an authentic piece of French furniture. However, it was much too small and also clearly made of cheap wood. Isaac yanked the single drawer open, and the entire stand wobbled around on loose legs. After grabbing what he wanted, Isaac slammed the drawer shut again.