Riley
He’d scared Seth. Scared him badly.
“You should have told me.”
So he did.
“Oh! Oh fuck,” Seth gasped.
Riley tugged at Seth’s waistband as he went, drawing those soft pants and underwear down to the tops of Seth’s thighs.
What followed couldn’t be called a blow job by any means—Riley was too scattered and hungry and clumsy for that.
Instead, he stroked Seth while mouthing and tonguing at whatever skin he could get to.
Licking around his own fingers, nuzzling into Seth’s groin, planting openmouthed kisses to the soft skin at Seth’s hips.
But whatever it was Riley was doing, Seth seemed to like it. His buttery orange scent grew so sweet and heavy Riley could taste it on the air. His cock pressed painfully against his zipper. He wanted to free it. He couldn’t let go long enough to do so.
Seth now had one hand on Riley’s shoulder and one in Riley’s hair, and he was gazing down at Riley with heavy-lidded eyes. “Oh my God,” he moaned when Riley stared back up at him, his fist squeezing the length of Seth’s cock while he mouthed hungrily at the base.
Seth’s hips bucked, and he bit into his lower lip so deeply it looked painful. “Oh fuckkk.”
Riley moved his hand faster, in the way he liked when he was close to coming. He widened his legs, trying to relieve some of that aching pressure. He knew his touch was rough, the precum only easing the glide so much, but Seth didn’t seem to mind.
He especially didn’t seem to mind when Riley let his thumb pass over the head of his cock, teasing it with every pass of his fist.
Riley could hear the way Seth’s heart was racing wildly, could practically taste the blood rushing through the pretty blue veins just under his skin.
And right at the crest—when Seth’s dick grew impossibly harder, twitching and pulsing in a way that let Riley know Seth was going to lose it soon—Riley’s fangs dropped.
It happened naturally, easily, and he barely noticed the change, too focused on the feel of Seth in his hand, the smell of his mate invading his senses.
It was as easy as pressing a kiss to Seth’s skin, the way Riley’s teeth sank into Seth’s upper thigh. Coppery, orange-tinged blood filled Riley’s mouth, and he groaned around the flesh between his teeth.
Seth’s cry of pleasure was a far-off sound, secondary to the blood rushing in Riley’s ears, the feeling of falling away somewhere deep inside himself.
Riley felt the wet heat of Seth’s cum spurting over his hand, and then he was gone.
Copper. Orange.
Sweet. Salty. Rich.
Delicious.
This was what they’d waited for. This was what they’d been denied over and over again.
For too long they’d been subjected to puny woodland creatures and plastic bags of stale, refrigerated garbage. But no more.
There were hands in their hair, tugging and lifting. They allowed it, their tongue drifting over their lips to catch stray drops of liquid perfection.
They met his stare. Light brown. Flecks of green. Or was it vice versa?
“Oh.” Their mate’s eyes widened, his reddened lips parting in surprise. His grip on their hair loosened. “Oh. Riley?”
Yes. No. All of the above.
They said nothing. They made no gesture.
Their mate tried again. “Riley? Can you, um, hear me in there?”
They fought against that gentle hold then, long enough to dive back down and tongue at broken, bleeding skin, growling at the flavor as their saliva healed their bite marks.
They were left with a patch of perfect, unblemished skin. A shame. But there would be more bites. More marks. More opportunities to claim.
They wouldn’t be denied any longer. They’d had enough of so-called higher human reason.
The fingers in their hair tightened again, and they let themselves be tugged back. On their knees, gazing upward.
Their mate’s eyes were no longer wide but narrowed. At them. “I’m not so sure I should let you do that.”
Ridiculous words. Let. Should. They were beyond such meaningless tripe. Their lips curled into a sneer.
Need. Must. That would have been more like it.
They had more of their mate’s essence—of a different variety—covering their fingers. They busied themselves lapping it up. Salty and bitter and perfect.
The tugging in their hair increased in strength. “Up,” their mate commanded.
They stood, and while they were up there, they captured that pretty red mouth again, because it was bruised and inviting, and they wanted to share the taste they’d stolen with their beautiful mate.
He should know just how delicious he was.
Their mate sighed into the kiss. Then he stiffened, pulling back and ignoring their warning growl. He glanced down, frowning. “You’re still hard.”
Of course they were, with their mate so close, smelling of musk and salt and coppery orange. They growled again, pressing in closer, rubbing against his slender form.
They needed to merge with him, body and soul. They needed to drain him into ecstasy, and then offer their own lifeblood in return. They needed to stretch him around their cock again and again, until he knew the perfect, hedonistic joy of being worshipped by one of their kind.
They needed to bind him. Mate him. Claim him.
“I think you should give Riley back to me now.”
They frowned. Let another warning rumble leave their throat. This body was theirs. Too long it had been ill-fitting and unnatural and starved. No one had let them fix it. No one had let them give it what it needed.
Their mate stroked down their arms with steady hands, soothing the savage beast as he gentled his tone. “You see, I want to give Riley another first, and I want him to be here for it. Present. Aware.”
They cocked their head, considering.
After a moment, their mate’s hand drifted down, cupping their cock through the constricting denim.
He squeezed. They groaned.
“I want to touch him now,” their mate whispered. “If you give him back to me…” He squeezed again. “Will you be able to feel it?”
They rumbled an affirmative. They would feel it. And they wanted that. A mate’s eager hands. Perhaps even a mate’s eager mouth.
But first.
They pulled their mate off the ground with one arm, cupping the back of his head with the other hand. They claimed his mouth again, and he opened for them, eager and wet and wanting, accepting their lips and tongue with perfect submission.
Good. Good.
They sucked and stroked and nibbled. A reminder as much as a claim. That it was all of them together. Not just Riley but also the yes, no, and all of the above.
When they separated from him, their mate was flushed and panting again, no longer spouting nonsense words of “go away” and “bring him back.”
That was better. That was as it should be.
They kissed him again, hard and merciless.
Then they allowed young Riley back to the surface.