The way their scents mingled together; mutual arousal and something else that he isn’t used to — Bishop would rather cut off his own hands than hurt his mate.

The softer kisses, along with the more bold touch pulls a pleased sound from deep inside of him somewhere and his hips shift back into the others touch. His hands were smaller, softer, and eager to get ahold of him. That alone made his heart race.

The kiss deepens as the hunger shifts again and before he can change his mind he moves them so that Sawyers back is against the couch cushions. It would smell like him and Bishop was more than a little excited about that. Eventually they could mark up the entire house. Less of him and more of them.