Page 46 of Tangled in Red

Brett writhed beneath him, gasping as Diablo’s teeth grazed a sensitive nipple. “Fuck, Diablo...” His hips canted up, seeking friction, desperate for more.

A wicked grin curved Diablo’s lips. “Patience, cariño.” His tongue swirled around Brett’s other nipple before sucking it into the wet heat of his mouth.

“Screw patience,” Brett groaned, fisting his hands in the sheets. “Want you inside me. Now.”

Diablo chuckled, the vibration against Brett’s skin. “Bossy little mate, aren’t you?”

But he was already moving, nudging Brett’s thighs further apart to settle between them. The first press of Diablo’s cock against his entrance made Brett’s breath hitch.

No prep, no lube, just the blunt pressure and a sudden gush of slick warmth as Diablo’s precum eased the way.

“Holy shit.” Brett’s head fell back against the pillow as Diablo pushed forward, the delicious stretch and burn consuming his senses. “Goddamn magic dick.”

Diablo huffed a laugh, burying his face in the crook of Brett’s neck as he bottomed out. “All the better to wreck you with, mi amor.” He rolled his hips, grinding deep, hitting that spot that made Brett see stars.

“Nngh, fuck!” Brett’s nails scrabbled at Diablo’s back, digging into flexing muscle as pleasure jolted through him. “M-more, please...”

Brett dug his heels into Diablo’s ass, meeting each powerful thrust. Sweat slicked their skin as they moved together, chasing the pleasure building between them.

“I’ve got you, pajarito.” Diablo set a steady rhythm, deep strokes that seemed to reach Brett’s very soul. He captured Brett’s mouth in a filthy kiss, tongues tangling, breathing each other’s air.

Lost in sensation, in the slick slide of skin on skin, Brett surrendered to the onslaught. Diablo surrounded him, filled him, consuming his every thought until nothing existed but this—the two of them, joined so completely it felt like they'd merge into one being.

Smirking against flushed skin, Diablo obliged, sliding in to the hilt. “This what you need, cariño?”

“God yes.” Brett rolled his hips, urging his mate to move. “Want to feel you for days.”

A low growl was his only warning before Diablo withdrew almost completely then slammed back in. Brett cried out, back arching off the bed. Diablo set a punishing pace, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall.

“That’s it, pajarito. Take what you need.” Diablo’s voice was a rough rasp in his ear.

“Close,” Brett panted against Diablo’s lips, feeling the telltale tingle at the base of his spine. “Fuck, I’m so close...” Diablo’s thrusts turned erratic, his control fraying.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Come for me, cariño.”

Brett’s climax tore through him, painting their chests and stomachs with pearly ropes. He clenched around Diablo.

A possessive snarl was his only warning before Diablo’s canines sank into the tender skin where neck met shoulder. Pain and pleasure collided, making Brett cry out. Diablo laved the mark with his tongue, soothing the sting.

Sighing contentedly, Brett nuzzled into Diablo’s chest. “Love you, papi.”

Chuckling, Diablo pressed a kiss to damp red hair. “Love you too, mi corazón.”

Brett traced idle patterns on Diablo’s sweat-cooled skin. “Thank you. For chasing the nightmare away.”

“Always.” Diablo’s arms tightened around him. “I’ll slay any dragon for you, little bird. Real or imagined.”

Smiling softly, Brett let his eyes drift closed, safe and sated in his mate's embrace.

* * * *

Sweat trickled down Brett’s back as he climbed the rickety stairs up to his room, Diablo a silent shadow behind him. The house was quiet, but he knew Frank was here somewhere, probably already halfway through a case of beer.

He pushed open the door to his cramped bedroom, immediately grabbing a duffel bag from the closet. No more putting this off. He was leaving today, no matter what Frank said or did.

“Grab whatever you need,” Diablo said, his voice low and controlled. But Brett could sense the tension coiled beneath his calm exterior. “Don’t worry about the rest. I’ll replace it.”

Brett nodded, not trusting himself to speak around the lump in his throat. He shoved clothes into the bag haphazardly, not caring about wrinkles or organization. His hands shook slightly as he zipped it closed.

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