“Nothing about this is dirty,” said Oberon, and then he stopped playing and buried his face in Ángel’s ass, opening him with his thumbs and drilling in with his tongue. Ángel yelped. He grabbed handfuls of the sheets, raised his hips. Oberon’s tongue worked him wetly and Ángel moaned, closing his eyes.

Delight and need spread through him with every silky stab. “Oh yeah.” He rocked his hips almost involuntarily, trying to fuck himself on Oberon’s tongue. Good, so good, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he needed—he wanted to be filled up, stretched, taken.

“Oh please,” he begged, writhing. “Oh, Oberon, please. I want you so bad.”

Oberon prowled up Ángel’s body and ground his slender, hard dick through Ángel’s spit-wet crack. Ángel emitted a shattered groan of need. Oberon slid up and down—and he was doing that magical thing, self-lubricating. Moisture surged intimately against Ángel’s opening, trickled down his thighs, pooled in the small of his back. The smell of Oberon’s lube was thick in Ángel’s nostrils: musk and pepper and lush sweetness. “Please,” he whispered again, aroused almost beyond speech by Oberon’s cock sliding up and down between his cheeks.

“Slow or fast?”

“Fast,” whispered Ángel, arching his back, spreading his legs, giving himself to Oberon. “Fast.”

Oberon hauled Ángel’s body to the edge of the mattress, stood between his parted thighs. He rubbed against Ángel’s ass, interlaced his fingers with Ángel’s, pushed Ángel’s hands above his head to stretch his body out, teeth scraping Ángel’s nape. Overwhelmed by the feel and smell and power of Oberon’s body, all Ángel could do was beg: “Please. Come on, please.”

Oberon slid inside him in one long thrust, and Ángel yelled with triumph.

“You need it fast?” said Oberon, pumping his hips, fucking Ángel in short rapid strokes.

“Yes, oh God,” panted Ángel, his sweating face pressed to the mattress.

Oberon started medium-sized, but with each smacking penetration he got bigger. Ángel was distantly aware that he was crying out, his voice melding with the slap of Oberon’s body against his ass. His cock was grinding into the mattress with every jab of Oberon’s growing cock.

Oberon growled as he fucked him. He was everywhere at once: on Ángel and inside him and around him. Ángel’s brain went blank like he’d taken a shot of Novocain to the cerebral cortex, and he came, mouth open in a silent scream, pleasure arcing hard through his body, semen streaming out of him in hot spurts.

He must have actually passed out from the power of it. When he came to himself again he was on his back, arms splayed. Oberon was on his side, tucked against him so that Ángel’s legs were draped over his thighs. Oberon’s cock, large and hard, was buried inside him.

“Oh, Jesus, Oberon,” he managed to say.