He bucks involuntarily into the god's hand with a gentle groan, rocking his hips up and against Pan as he moved with the maneuvering, back against one of the tall, old trees.

This was going to be good. "You'd make me come? While you were still buried in me, you'd make me release and scream your name out for everyone to hear it, and know exactly what we were doing..." Ganymede breathes, lips tracking down to Pan's neck, nipping at his pulse as his hands reach to frame the god's waist.