The next day, when there was still no sign of Isaac, Moody went out to look for him again.

He made his way through the cluttered trailer park neighborhood. More people were outside as he went through this time, sitting in dull silence on their lawns. The dog which had barked at him was gone, its chain a silvering snake in the torn yard. Whatever happened to it was something it was probably best not to think about.

No one called to him or asked what he was doing here. In fact, no one even seemed to be looking in his direction. He couldn’t feel any eyes on him, not even the most cursory of glances.

Maybe the heat had something to do with the lackluster behavior, bright sunlight pouring down from above. Either way, he was only too glad to finally park out in front of Isaac’s trailer. Dismounting, Moody went up the steps to the porch again and knocked on the door. Having done this same thing only the day before, he experienced déjà vu for the first time in his entire life. Isaac wouldn’t answer the door, because he was still inside getting drunk. Nothing new would happen today.

Lifting up one hand, Moody started to knock again, just as he had yesterday.

The door opened before he could make contact, his fist striking against empty air. Isaac stood in the doorway, somehow managing to look better and worse than he had last time Moody saw him. His eyes were still red, though now it seemed to be from a lack of sleep. His hair had been washed and was styled, though without finesse. His skin was pale, making the dark hair of his beard stand out all the more starkly.

“What are you doing here?” Isaac asked. His voice was very rough and he winced when speaking, a clear sign he was dealing with a massive hangover. Judging from how much he’d had to drink yesterday, and possibly the day before that, Moody wasn’t the least bit surprised. What did surprise him was the fact he could still smell alcohol on Isaac’s breath. He must have had a little hair of the dog that bit him.

“You still haven’t shown up at the garage or talked to anyone, and I was worried.”

“I can’t go anywhere,” Isaac said. He lifted one hand to press two fingers against the bridge of his nose, attempting to alleviate what must have been a severe headache. “My bike is out of gas.”

“Oh.” Yes, that was right. In the face of everything else that had been happening, all the things that had been on Moody’s mind, he’d almost completely forgotten about Isaac’s bike having run out of gas. “Well, that’s not a big deal. I can go get you some, okay?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t really want to listen to the sound of a motorcycle engine right now. Can you just go away, please?”

Moody took a step back. His hip hit the side of the porch railing, the pain jostling him back to reality. For a second there, he had been caught up in the memory of the last time Isaac had told him to go away. The urge to run away overtook him, so strong that if it hadn’t been for the pain in his hip he might have already been on his way out of the neighborhood.

“I’m not going to leave,” he said. His voice cracked a little and he tried again. “I’m not going to go away. What about everything you said?”

“I was drunk. It didn’t mean anything, okay?” Isaac tried to growl, but the sound was more like rattling nails than an animal noise. “People do all sorts of dumb things when they’re drunk. I can’t even really remember what all I said.”

“I don’t care,” Moody said. He kept his voice low, hoping that his sensitivity would earn him some brownie points. “I know what I said, and I meant what I said. I’m going to help you with all of this.”

“No offense, but what if I don’t want your help?”

Moody shrugged. “You’ve got it anyway. Anything you want, I’ll do it.”

“I want you to go away.”

“Anything but that.”

Isaac pushed his fingers against his eyes now, then groaned. “You’re so fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Hey, one of us has to go through with something for once.”

It wasn’t until the words were out of his mouth that Moody realized they were a little harsher than he’d meant, carrying a double meaning.

Isaac lifted up one corner of his mouth in an attempt at smiling. “You got me on that. Just, before I let you come inside, tell me how much of a fool I made of myself yesterday. I know you came over but I can’t remember much of anything. I can only imagine the things I said.”

“It was pretty bad,” Moody said.

Isaac let out another groan, then stepped back from the doorway. “Great. Well, come on in and fill me in on all that, why don’t you?”

Entering the living room, Moody found it to be much the same as yesterday. The kitchen had been tidied up slightly, empty bottles removed and the spill wiped up. However, the Grey Goose had been broken into at some point between then and now. A curved glass standing near the vodka bottle held a finger’s worth of liquid at the very bottom.

“Help yourself,” Isaac grunted, having seen him looking over at the counter.

“Maybe later.”

As a rule, Moody didn’t drink much. He wanted to have a clear head for this conversation. Maybe when they were done recapping the events from yesterday, he’d take a sip just to see what it was like.

Heading over to his chair in the living room, Isaac lowered himself down into it like an old man. His joints creaked and popped, and he sagged deeply against the back. “God, I’m tired.”

Moody went over and sat on the futon that served as Isaac’s couch, placing his hands in his lap because he didn’t know what to do with them. That was a problem he’d been having a lot lately. He supposed he’d need to figure out how to go about solving it, sooner or later.

“So,” Isaac said. He leaned his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. “What’d I say?”

Moody told him, relating each detail as precisely as he could remember. He made a point to leave out how Isaac had acted.

Isaac listened intently to what was being said, and then he sighed. “I just went and spilled my guts, didn’t I? Goddamn. I’m lucky I didn’t actually do anything wrong or you’d have all the evidence you could possibly want.”

“Of course you didn’t do anything wrong,” Moody said. “That’s just not like you. And…” He hesitated, wondering if he should really say what was on his mind in this moment.

“What is it? I told you everything, so now you have to do the same.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Lucky you,” Isaac grumbled. He went back to kneading at his forehead with his fingers, trying to ease the stress away. “So, what were you going to say?”

“Just that if you left me so you could keep working where you did, you probably wouldn’t have burned down the place where you worked. Unless you had a sudden change of mind.”

“I didn’t,” Isaac said quietly. “Trust me.”

“I believe you.”

Isaac stood up and wobbled his way over to the counter, where he picked up the glass of vodka and took a small sip. A grimace crossed his face, and he went back in for another.

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 too 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.

Moody looked at what Isaac held. A tube of lube, which looked as if it had seen much use. The body of the tube was crumpled up, looking as if it had already been drained of any useful contents.

“How often do you use that?” he laughed.

Isaac flashed him a wicked grin, his eyes heated and lustful. Shivering in response, Moody settled down to watch and wait. As horny as he was, his thoughts were still uncertain. He wanted to be guided through this, and he knew Isaac would get him there. He depended on it.

Flipping open the cap on top of the lube with a distinctive click sound, Isaac squeezed from the bottom up. The motion of his fingers was strangely sexual, sending another throb of pleasure through Moody’s groin.

Squeezing a liberal amount of gel onto his fingers, Isaac set the tube aside. He took himself in his hand and started to spread the lube over his entire cock, from hilt to head. Weak sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, making his slick skin glisten.

When he was done, Isaac offered the tube to Moody. “Here.”

Moody reached for it, still feeling uncertain. What if he looked stupid while doing this? Or what if he didn’t do it right?

Hell, was there even a way to do it wrong? How would he know?

Either seeing or sensing his hesitation, Isaac pulled the tube back to himself. “I’ll do it,” he said, voice gentle and understanding.

Moody blushed, not that he had long to worry about seeming foolish. Slick, hot fingers pushed against his opening, then stroked in a circle. Moody’s back arched up, his hips wriggling with excitement as more tingling pulses went through him.

Isaac rubbed his fingers all over Moody’s opening, until he was thoroughly covered. Then, he pressed a finger against his tender pucker and kept pressing, unrelenting and yet somehow still gentle.

“Ah,” Moody said, the word tangled up in a gasp.

Isaac paused, the very tip of his finger just barely inside him. “You okay?”

“Keep going.”

Isaac went back for more lube, then repeated the process, pressing his finger deeper inside Moody in tiny increments.

His breath coming fast, Moody tried to relax. He could feel how tight his pucker was, how he gradually became stretched, more used to being entered. All of this took place over only a couple of minutes, though it seemed like years to Moody. His cock wasn’t as erect as it had been before, since he was so occupied with other feelings, but he was still hard as hell. It would only take a little bit of encouragement for him to get back to the place he had been previously.

Isaac kept applying more and more lube, making sure to smear it all over Moody’s inner walls. When he had his finger in as deep as he could go, his other fingers pressed right up against Moody’s ass cheeks, he stopped. Very slowly, gently, he crooked his finger.

Moody tossed his head back, crying out as an enormous jolt of pleasure shook him from the inside out. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, knowing no other word to express the experience he’d just had. “What was that?”

He was no stranger to orgasm but what he’d felt just now was sharper and more intense than anything else before.

“There’s so much more where that came from,” Isaac growled. He crooked his finger again, making Moody cry out again. His erection was back, hotter and harder than ever.

Isaac twirled his finger inside now, withdrew, then pressed back inside. Not quite thrusting, just letting Moody get used to the motion.

Whimpering, incoherent now, incapable of thinking even if he wanted to, Moody writhed and bucked, pushing against Isaac’s fingers. His body moved to the rhythm that Isaac set for the both of them. With one hand, he gripped the mattress. The other wrapped around his dick, stroking and caressing, almost pulling. Heat climbed up his shaft. He couldn’t hold on much longer. There were fireworks behind his eyes. The gathering tsunami wave from before was about to come crashing down. He would lose himself in only another few moments and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Isaac withdrew his finger, quickly and smoothly, clearly sensing Moody’s need. Lowering his hands down to the mattress to support himself, he repositioned so that the tip of his cock pressed between Moody’s spread cheeks. He started to push inside again and it was much easier this time, though the sensation of stretching and being stretched was uncomfortable still.

Isaac’s thickness, rubbing all over his inner walls, filling him…

Moody reached out, gripped at Isaac’s back, dragging his nails across smooth skin and muscle. The tsunami crashed down over him, carried him away. Everything was darkness and colors at the same time, and he was awash in heat. He was aware of nothing, not even the passage of time or Isaac’s body pressing ever harder against his. All he knew was pleasure, heat, ecstasy.

After a span of time, he started to become aware of his surroundings again. Fullness from the inside, where Isaac’s cock was still buried in his ass. The scent of sex, strong and thick in the air. The weight of the alpha’s body, bearing down on him.

Stirring around now, Moody tried to wiggle into a more comfortable position. Isaac moved with him, dropping one hand between his thighs for a moment to pull out. “Sorry,” he said. His voice was thick, a little hesitant, as if he no longer knew what to do with himself.

Now that the moment was past, Moody didn’t know what to do, either.

Isaac slid off Moody, propping himself up on his elbow. His eyes were so heavy-lidded that nearly all of the color was obscured. His features were passive, hiding whatever he truly felt in that moment. “I hope it was good for you.”

“It was the best I could have hoped for,” Moody replied. He winced inwardly, knowing that his words could possibly be taken in a negative light and that wasn’t how he had meant them.

For what it was worth, Isaac didn’t seem bothered by this lackluster response. He must have been feeling pretty shoddy himself, because he sat up then and placed his hand to his forehead. “I’m glad. I think you better go, though.”

As far as goodbyes went, it wasn’t a particularly bad one. However, neither was it good.

Something heavy formed in his stomach, like a brick wall being built to prevent him from leaving. He didn’t want to go. But, he had to.

Reaching out, Moody grabbed onto the edge of the bed and pulled himself forward, sitting up at the same time. He swung his legs to the ground and stood…and then immediately sat back down again as his ass gave a dull throb of pain. A whine rose up in his throat and he swallowed it, then forced himself to stand up again. The pain really wasn’t all that bad. Not sharp, just constant.

“You look a little sore,” Isaac rumbled.

Moody snorted. Rather than bend down to pick his underwear and jeans up off the floor, he used his toes to grip the garments and lift them up to his hand. “I’m fine,” he said.

Isaac sighed. The bed creaked as he lay down, springs in his mattress letting out pitiful groans. “I’m tired. I want to nap. Tell Destiny if he wants to talk to me, he’s going to have to be patient. I’m not riding a motorcycle or even getting on a bus until my headache’s gone.”

“I’ll tell him,” Moody said. He wondered abruptly if his cries earlier had caused Isaac pain. “Why did you drink in the first place, though?”

“Didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have come to me.”

Isaac turned his head away, rejecting the statement. He didn’t snort or growl, didn’t say a single word.

Driven by desperation, Isaac had returned to Pensacola. This time, when he was hurting and uncertain, he had chosen alcohol over confiding in Moody. There was an enormous gap between them, sex or not, a chasm formed of bad memories and regrets.

Despite that, Moody was determined to see this through.

Without saying anything else, he dressed and left the bedroom, then exited the trailer. As an afterthought, he opened the door again, locked it from the inside, and then shut it again.

Once that was done, he felt a little bit better. Grabbing his motorcycle, he rode off in the direction of the highway so he could deliver Isaac’s message to Destiny.

But first, he went and fetched a canister of gas and dropped it off at Isaac’s trailer. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A start.