Rathma growled at him, low and dangerous in his chest. It only served to make Malthael chuckle as the vibrations tickled at his thighs where he was straddling the nephalem. He reached forward to rub affectionately under his chin.
āThatās not going to help, you know.ā Malthael teased. āIām not letting you go anytime soon, and youāre not even that intimidating right now.āĀ
That was a semi-lie. Not the part about being let go; Malthael was keeping his alpha tied up until heād forcibly wrangled his rut out of him (or possibly just until he himself was satisfied), and that was that. No, despite having both hands bound above his head, and a gag clamped between his teeth, Rathma was actually still rather unnerving to behold.Ā
It had to be something in the way he stared, Malthael thought. Plenty of Alphas had oggled him over the years, but this was something else. A level beyond. Oh, there was raw, filthy lust in those eyes. There was violent intent. But there was also a possessiveness, a fierceness he had never quite found in another angel.Ā
It wasnāt actually all that often that Malthael got to behold his partner all splayed out like this, got to hold him still after tearing away all his trappings and armor himself. His chest and belly, pale with a smattering of black hair, were constantly rising, flexing beneath him where he had perched himself on his mateās body. There was also the strained way his restraints creaked whenever he flexed clawed hands and lean arms. Malthael had the feeling that if Rathma truly wanted to be free, then he would be. It was a strangely giddy feeling, knowing that his alpha was letting him tease and taunt and play with him like this. Rathma mustāve been enjoying it.Ā
With a huff through his nose, the nephalem settled once more. Back to glaring daggers.
Ā
āGood boy.ā Malthael purred. He leaned in to gently kiss him on the forehead, and noted the way Rathma went completely still. Anticipating affection? Or perhaps waiting to pounce.Ā
White skin was hot beneath his lips. Just shy of burning. Oh, his mate ran warm, warmer than humans, certainly warmer than the angels. But in the throes of rut, heād heated up even more.Ā
We donāt call it āmating feverā for no reason. Rathma had wryly told him, before said fever had totally taken him. With a satisfied hum, Malthael inhaled, breathing in his partner's scent. It was heavier than usual, thick with pheromones and sweat-scent. He nuzzled his way down his cheek, tucked his nose up into the crook where Rathma's throat-met-jaw.
Heady. Delicious.
"My dear nephalem." Malthael breathed. "How I shall care for you tonight."
