If he’d been bigger it would have hurt; instead, the burn was good. Ángel lifted up and pushed back, fucking himself on Oberon, mindlessly seeking pressure on his prostate and reaching for his own dick. But Oberon restrained him with his greater weight and strength, growling, “Be still, beloved.”

“More.”

Oberon entwined his fingers with Ángel’s and pinned his hands to the bed, forcing his legs farther apart with his own. “No. Be still.”

“You are such a dom,” muttered Ángel, obeying. He was spread open, impaled, ass up and head down. He felt conquered, helpless, and couldn’t believe how much he loved it. The smell of Oberon’s pleasure rolled over him like an intoxicating drug; his cock, as deep inside Ángel as it could go, throbbed palpably.

“Be still,” Oberon said again, his voice warm. “Just feel it.”

And Ángel could feel it: with a surge, Oberon’s cock thickened and stretched inside him. Got . . . bigger.

Ángel grunted. “That thing is full of surprises.”

Another surge, another pulse. Oberon’s dick plumped and flexed and lengthened, opened Ángel wider, reached deeper inside him. Ángel moaned helplessly. He wanted to writhe, to fuck back on that cock, to rub against the pillow, to come.

“Let me know,” Oberon said, breathlessly, “if you don’t like it. If you want me to stop.”

A surge. Longer, thicker. Ángel pressed his face into the mattress and cried out. He tried to move again, desperate for friction, the pillowcase on his dick, the slide of that thick penetration on his prostate. Oberon gripped him, tried to hold him still.

“Killing me,” Ángel complained hoarsely.

“I hope that is a metaphor.”

Oberon’s cock pulsed, swelled. Thick enough now to stretch Ángel open. It was almost too much; overwhelmed, he whimpered. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Is it all right?” whispered Oberon.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

And now Oberon began to fuck Ángel with an easy, rolling movement. He released Ángel’s hands and raised himself up, lifting Ángel’s hips, thrusting voluptuously.

“Oh fucking God, that is so great,” said Ángel, his voice ragged with pleasure. Pleasure so wild, he didn’t even know what he was saying. “Ob—oh my God, yeah.” Hotter and more intense than anything he’d ever had before. “Oh yeah. Oh fuck. Oh yes. Oh please.”

But Oberon was so slow. The lingering grind and slide inside Ángel was exquisite but exasperating at the same time; Ángel’s heated dick and balls were brushing lightly against the pillow beneath him. “Baby,” he gasped. “Please.”