Faster, harder, and fuck, Ganymede felt good, Pan thought as his hand stroked and he thrust into the boy with hard, punishing movements of his hip. "I want to feel you," he whispered, "coming around me. I want to feel you tightening, and hear you screaming, and watch you thrashing, and know that your release belongs to me."

Another hard, merciness stroke, and then Pan breathed words out. "Let go," he murmured.