Isaiah

by Catherine Lievens

  John arched a brow at them, but they didn’t seem to care about the fact that they were becoming seriously creepy.

  “She was my Russian bride,” Isaiah said.

  “Russian bride? Like, the ones you can mail order?” Nysys asked with a frown.

  “That’s what I called her, but she wasn’t Russian, and mom certainly didn’t mail order her. But yeah, she was the one to convince me I had to take my head out of my ass and realize I’d ruin my life if I just blindly followed mom’s rulings.”

  John slid to the edge of the bed and reached up to squeeze Isaiah’s ass. “I don’t know. If it had been my head, I’d probably have kept it there. Such a nice ass.”

  “Gross,” Talia said as Isaiah squeaked and jumped away, his entire neck and even his ears red. Keenan and Nysys were laughing, of course.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Isaiah asked.

  John shook his head. “Sorry.” He looked at his mate and grinned. “I’m not really sorry, though. I’m just... happy to have you back.”

  Isaiah’s face softened. “I’m happy to be back.”

  “Isa? Talia? Where are you?” a woman’s voice asked from somewhere in the hallway. Isaiah’s eyes went big and he turned to look at his sister. Talia rushed to the suitcases and closed them, then pushed Isaiah toward Nysys. “Take him away,” she hissed.

  Nysys started laughing and grabbed Isaiah with one hand, John with the other, before clicking his heels together and shimmering them away.

  * * * *

  Isaiah dumped the suitcase he was carrying in front of the door that led to his suite. John did the same, then rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish expression. “About your room...”

  Isaiah’s eyes went wide. “What? Did Dominic give it to someone else?”

  “Uh, yeah. To me.”

  “You’ve been living in my rooms?”

  “Yeah. It’s bigger than mine, and it was right next door. I’ll grab my stuff and put it back, just give me an hour or so.”

  Isaiah opened the door and pushed his suitcase in his living room—John’s living room. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked around, expecting to find the room completely different. It wasn’t.

  John had kept all the furniture Isaiah had bought. He hadn’t taken it with him because his mom’s house was already furnished, and it had been a way to leave part of himself behind in the hope he’d come back to stay.

  There were a few signs someone else had been living there, though. There was a pile of worn books and sports magazines on the coffee table, and a dirty mug next to them. New pictures were hanging on the wall, exactly where Isaiah’s had been. A pair of boots peeked from under the couch, and there was a guitar next to the armchair.

  “You play?”

  John nodded. “Sometimes.”

  Isaiah toed his shoes off and wiggled his toes. “Gosh, I hate dress shoes.” He looked down at himself. “And dress pants. And shirts. They’re so uncomfortable!”

  “You look good in them, though.”

  Isaiah smirked. “Yeah? Wouldn’t I look better without them?”

  “Is that an invite for me to take them off you? Because I’d be game for that.”

  Isaiah’s heart beat rocketed at the words. They’d never done anything more than kissing, even though they’d decided to be fuck-buddies some time ago. They couldn’t be that now, but they were boyfriends, or something like that anyway. That meant sex was okay, right?

  “Yeah, it is.”

  John gazed at Isaiah intensely, as if trying to read him. He seemed to make a decision and quickly crossed the few feet that separated them to take Isaiah in his arms. He didn’t kiss him—instead, he started working on the buttons of Isaiah’s shirt, slowly opening them and uncovering skin.

  It had been a long while since Isaiah had last had anything close to sex with someone else. He’d been fascinated with John since his mate had arrived in the mansion, and he hadn’t even tried to find anyone since then.

  John untucked the shirt from Isaiah’s pants and finished opening it. He pushed it down Isaiah’s shoulders and arms, then let it fall on the floor before moving his hands to Isaiah’s belt. The strip of leather quickly followed the shirt, and John opened the button of Isaiah’s pants, then the zipper.

  Isaiah bit his lower lip at the sound made almost indecent by the situation. Opening a zipper shouldn’t be so sexy, really.

  Any thoughts of the zipper flew from his mind when John hooked his fingers between Isaiah’s hips and his clothes and pulled. Everything went down, pants and underwear. Isaiah tried to ignore the fact that he was naked while John was still completely dressed and on his knees in front of him and raised one foot. John slipped the pants and the underwear off, then the sock that was still there. Isaiah put the foot down and raised the other one. John did the same thing and Isaiah put his foot down.

  John looked at him from his position, his gaze roaming over Isaiah’s body, and Isaiah felt the sudden urge to cover himself. He was used to nudity, but not to the intimacy. He’d never felt so close to another person before in only his bare skin, in a situation that had nothing to do with shifting.

  “Just... stay like this, okay?” John asked, and Isaiah nodded.

  John rose and pulled his clothes off with a lot less care than he’d done with Isaiah’s. Isaiah watched as his mate’s body was revealed to him for the first time and licked his lips. Damn, he felt like he’d won the jackpot.

  John was gorgeous. His body was obviously made and honed for battle, even though he’d spent a year in a cell. His muscles were defined, and rolled under his skin as he moved. Isaiah’s fingers itched with the need to touch, but John had asked him to stay still, so he did, at least until the last article of clothing hit the carpet. Then all bets were off.

  Isaiah walked closer to his mate. He pursed his lips and began to blow gently across John’s skin, watching his mate’s reaction, how his skin became covered in goose bumps, and how John’s breathing accelerated.

  Isaiah blew on John’s chest and slowly walked around him, stopping at the sight of the tattoo on his mate’s back. It was some kind of Celtic design, but Isaiah didn’t know what it meant. He promised himself he’d ask later and lowered his mouth until he was hovering right over the thick black inked lines. He traced them with his breath, following the curves.

  He wanted John so bad, wanted to make him his, even if John had asked him to wait. He pushed the fantasy of being mated to John to one side because he knew that otherwise he’d stand there all night, caught up in a dream.

  Heat prickled over his skin. He was standing so close to his mate, feeling John’s warmth against him, the almost contact so delicious that his cock was already hard just with the anticipation of touch. He inadvertently brushed against the curve of John’s ass and John’s swiftly drawn-in breath and hissed curse made Isaiah step back, sure he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

  “Sorry.”

  “For what? Don’t stop, Isa,” John growled in a low rumbling timbre. “Don’t stop.”

  Isaiah resisted the urge to touch himself and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing until he felt a bit more under control.

  Once he felt better, Isaiah softly blew at the short hair at John’s nape and down the groove of his spine, crouching as he reached the small of John’s back. He looked back up and flushed when he saw John’s strong body stretch and arch above him. John’s skin glistened with a fine layer of sweat and Isaiah wanted to lick it away, or even better, to slide his body against it.

  Isaiah knelt and swallowed hard at the sight right in front of him—John’s perfect ass, with high, round cheeks, flexing as he moved slightly. Isaiah cleared his throat and asked in a coarse voice, “Spread your legs.”

  John’s ass and thighs went taut, each muscle clearly defined under the smooth skin.

  “Isaiah...” John’s voice was raw and almost pleading, for what Isaiah didn’t know.


  “Please,” Isaiah asked.

  He watched as John slowly shifted his feet on the carpet, moving his thighs further apart. Isaiah leaned in to the crack of John’s ass and breathed, just like he’d done with the rest of John’s back.

  Excitement coursed through him when his mate moved and pushed his ass slightly toward him, almost as if he was doing it unconsciously. Isaiah lowered his face, just enough that he could see the balls hanging low and heavy between John’s legs.

  “Fuck.”

  Lust was churning in his guts, a lust that made him want to push John down and take him, and where the hell had that come from? Isaiah wasn’t dominating, and more importantly, he rarely topped.

  He grabbed his dick and gave it a good tug from base to tip in the hope it would ease the pressure, the need to come right now, at least a bit.

  Shivers raced through him as he leaned as close to John’s ass as he possibly could. He licked his lips, almost able to taste John even without touching him. He could smell his mate, though, a heady, manly scent that made his fox yip in joy, especially when he leaned even closer and breathed warm breath as he followed the dividing crack between John’s ass cheeks.

  They twitched, and Isaiah leaned lower, until he could breathe on the sensitive skin of John’s balls. John moaned and spread his legs further apart, giving Isaiah even more access.

  Isaiah continued his path downward, blowing across John’s thighs, and watching the dark hair there move with his breath. He watched how John’s muscles tightened and twitched when he breathed behind his knees, loving the muffled sounds John made.

  Isaiah couldn’t go lower without lying down on the floor. He pushed himself up and walked around John. He hadn’t seen his face since he’d begun his breathing path along his mate’s body, and it was an incredible sight when he finally came to stand in front of John.

  John looked wrecked. His eyes were closed, but he opened them as Isaiah began to move. His cheeks were reddened, his mouth open as he panted. His chest was heaving and glistening with sweat. His cock was standing out from his body, the head slick with pre-cum Isaiah wanted to lap away. And God, John was uncut.

  Isaiah made a strangled noise with his throat and looked at the way the reddened head of his mate’s cock peeked from under the wrinkled skin. He took in John’s trembling legs, the way he was pressing his lips together. He wasn’t moving, waiting for Isaiah to direct him instead.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Isaiah whispered as he took his own cock in hand and stroked over the hard flesh. The answering guttural rumble that John made as he watched was loud and hungry-sounding, and Isaiah felt it to the bone.

  “Touch yourself,” John rasped out.

  Isaiah felt his eyes go wide and he tugged on his balls to stop himself from coming. He kept his focus on John as he slid his hands over his chest, circling his bellybutton then going up. He trailed his fingers over his ribcage, ignoring the goose bumps it drew out.

  He could feel John’s gaze on him almost like a physical touch. It prickled at his skin, made him want to be touched, but John wasn’t making any moves toward him, so Isaiah took things into his own hands.

  He covered his nipples with his palms and rubbed over them, then pinched them between forefingers and thumbs. John growled, and the mix of touch and sound made Isaiah moan.

  John took a step forward and got closer, so close Isaiah could feel his body-heat, but not close enough that they touched, not yet anyway. He could feel John’s ragged breath on his skin, though, ruffling the hair that hung around Isaiah’s face.

  “You’re beautiful. I want to touch you like you’re touching yourself right now. Touch your nipples, lick them and suck at them until you’re begging for me to do more, to take you.”

  “John, please...”

  Isaiah tipped his head backward and watched the way John devoured him with his eyes. He didn’t move—every muscle tight as he waited for something, anything, to happen.

  John lowered his face to Isaiah’s and lightly brushed their lips together.

  It wasn’t enough, couldn’t be, and Isaiah surged against his mate’s warm lips. He pushed and parted John’s lips with his tongue, not caring about who was in charge of what, delving deep as their tongues tangled and twisted, searching for each other’s taste.

  “Isaiah...”

  Isaiah took a step back and looked at John. His gaze slid down John’s face, over his chest and the hair that decorated it, down to his navel and the dark treasure trail that led to his erection. Isaiah knew what John wanted, and he was more than ready to give it to him.

  Keeping eye contact with him, Isaiah nodded slowly and sank to his knees. John’s abs tightened and released and Isaiah’s own stomach felt like it was doing flips inside him.

  “Open up for me.” John’s voice was deep and rough, and Isaiah didn’t hesitate to obey.

  He slowly licked his lips and opened them.

  John grabbed the base of his cock with his hand and directed it to Isaiah’s lips. John’s hips surged forward and pressed the head of his dick against Isaiah’s lips, wetting them with pre-cum. Isaiah flicked the tip of his tongue over it, dipping it into the slit, and John groaned.

  “Come on, suck it.”

  The look on John’s face was so open and wanting it made Isaiah shiver. He was the one doing that, the one making John feel like that.

  He swallowed and John’s taste slid down his throat as his mate pushed deeper into his mouth. John’s cock felt heavy against Isaiah’s tongue, the pre-cum tasted sharp and slightly bitter.

  John slid it back out just barely, leaving the tip in, and Isaiah groaned. The vibration made John’s dick flex in his mouth and he smiled around it before he started sucking.

  “Isaiah... Stop playing around.” John sounded both breathless and steely, and Isaiah knew his mate had reached his limits. He pushed forward until John’s cock pressed against the back of his throat, then he hummed, letting the sound vibrate through the flesh that stuffed his mouth full.

  Bobbing his head up and down, Isaiah didn’t look away from John’s face. John growled Isaiah’s name with every thrust, moving faster and harder each time. Isaiah couldn’t help but feel smug at the sight of his mate losing it.

  He sucked harder and tongued the flesh in his mouth, savoring the taste and swallowing every time the head hit the back of his throat, squeezing it.

  “Isaiah.”

  Isaiah looked up from under his eyelashes and sucked.

  John groaned and buried his hands in Isaiah’s hair, holding him in place gently as he bucked. His cock throbbed and pulsed into Isaiah’s mouth as it flooded with hot fluid. Isaiah gulped it down, sucking and swallowing until John’s hold on him became lighter.

  Isaiah let go of his mate’s cock but didn’t move from his kneeling position. His cock was still hard and pulsing and he reached for it, but then John was there, kissing him softly.

  “Isa... My turn.”

  * * * *

  John just couldn’t get over the sight that was Isaiah at that moment. He was still on his knees in front of John, his lips puffy and shiny, his hair sticking up every which way, his dick hard and flushed and weeping between his legs.

  He hadn’t even protested about the fact that he’d yet to come, and John had the suspicion that he wouldn’t, even if John just left him there. Isaiah would probably head to the bathroom and take care of things himself. Not that John was about to let that happen. Just watching Isaiah in this state was enough for John to stay hard even after he’d come.

  He held his hands out to Isaiah and tugged him upright. It was his turn to look, and he had every intention of doing just that. He guided Isaiah toward the bedroom he’d been using since his mate had left. It was a bit of a mess. The bed was undone, there was a small mound of dirty clothes in a corner and a pile of clean ones on the dresser.

  John didn’t care. He pushed Isaiah on the bed and climbed on top of him. He took a good look, from to
es to head. Isaiah’s legs were long and slightly hairy, although the hair was so pale it was almost impossible to see. His cock was sleeker than John’s, hard as nails and slick with pre-cum, nestled in blond hair. His waist was smaller and his bellybutton was pierced. Isaiah didn’t have hair on his chest, but he did have a pale trail that led to his cock.

  The black tattoo on his arm made a stunning contrast with his pale skin, and even if it was cliché, John really wanted to lick every line of it.

  Isaiah huffed impatiently, making John chuckle. He struggled to move from under John and John let him, curious to see what his mate was up to. His eyebrows arched when Isaiah went for the nightstand and opened the drawer. He made a triumphant noise and held a bottle of lube out to John.

  “How’d you know it was there?”

  “Where else would you keep it?”

  “Right. And no condoms, right?”

  “We don’t need them, but if you want to...”

  John had looked for information, of course. Both before and after Isaiah had left, actually. He’d talked with a few members of the pride, the ones he felt more comfortable with, and had even asked Jared. He knew they didn’t need condoms. “Nope. No condoms.”

  John let his gaze wander over Isaiah’s chest again and he licked his lips before leaning down. He kissed one nipple, then bit it before licking it. He continued until the nipple was hard and rosy, then switched to the other.

  “Lube,” Isaiah said, handing it to John.

  John smiled around the nipple he had in his mouth. “You.”

  Isaiah huffed in frustration and took the lube back. He tried to open the bottle, but it was stuck. John was about to ask him if he needed help when the cap finally popped off and lube spilled all over Isaiah’s chest and stomach.

  Isaiah groaned and let his head fall back on the pillow. “Great.”

  But John was already moving, straddling Isaiah’s waist and pressing their bodies together. He slid his cock over the mess on his mate’s stomach and Isaiah squeaked.

  “Okay, we can use it anyway, I guess.”