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“Gonna fill you up,” he chokes.

I tremble with the sudden knowledge of what’s happening. My peak rolls over me like a storm. It starts in my core, heat erupting from him into me and triggering a bolt of ecstasy. The rest of me follows swiftly. I clutch at him as I burst open, wetness and seed spilling everywhere. I’m ripe, dripping.

Ezra buries his face in my hair, panting. My legs lock around him, keeping him inside as he softens. Aching desire sweeps my heart.Mine. My human. My Ezra.

23

EZRA

In a clever yet filthy-minded twist, Lysander greets me in the ceremonial robe the next night. His intention is obvious and I give him what he wants. I fuck him in it with the hem rucked up around his ass, watching his skin turn from pretty green to all-over blue as he clenches down and bites the pillow with muffled cries. The next time he doesn’t have to ask — I pin him to the bed and slide inside, marveling at how well his slicked-up hole takes me already, and he squirms and begs until he’s spilling over my fist, his body clutching like it never wants me to leave.

I love what we’ve been doing, butthis— this makes me an animal.

I’m not that kind of guy. I’m aget you off twice and tuck you into bedguy. Normally, his pleasure and delight are a bigger turn-on than any plain physical friction. But when I’m inside Lysander, I want toownhim. Consume him. Keep him pinned on my cock twenty four-seven. Something about the way his body moves around me like he can’t help it, even when I try to go slow, the way his moans come out strangled and needy, flips a switch in my brain.

“You okay?” Orion’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

Shit. I shouldn’t be thinking about Lysander’s ass in the middle of the bar.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, shaking myself.

I head across the bar as a gargoyle waves me down, fleeing from his knowing look.Fine? No. I’m much more than fine.

I’m delirious. I might even be bewitched.

The next time, I resolve to only use my mouth — I need to prove to myself I’m not gonna become obsessed. Only Lysander drags me onto the bed and hooks his leg around my back and before I know it my cock is knocking at his warm, tight hole, and he’s staring intently into my eyes as I fuck him, making my heart flutter and the hair lift on the back of my arms.

“More,” he moans, taking my cock over and over like he was born to do it.

I told Lysander friends can do anything together, but I was definitely lying. This isn’t the kind of sex that friends have. Not at all.

But how can I deny him? Especially when afterward, he crawls on top of me and slumps over my chest to breathe in my ear, “That was amazing, Ezra.”

It makes me want to pin him to the bed and go again. I send my inner caveman slinking away. Twice in a row wouldn’t be very polite.

“It wasn’t too much?” I fucked him hard enough that I’m damp with sweat all over.

His wings wave lazily, stirring up a gentle breeze. He sighs happily into my neck. “No. I love being penetrated by your cock. It’s so intense and arousing.”

“Good.” I can’t help chuckling. “My cock likes to penetrate you, too, baby.”

“I can tell,” he purrs.

Well. Maybe I can use my mouth after all.

It’s not only about sex, though. When I’m not fucking him into next week, I’m running my secret campaign to get the rest of the staff to hang out with us — and maybe learn that Lysander has emotions just like anyone else. I’m not the world’s greatest friend-maker, but the staff like me, Lysander likes me, and I sure as hell like every party in the equation, so I don’t see why they shouldn’t get along.

Staff movie nights are a hit, as are tasting parties for Larch’s latest recipes. I even teach them beer pong, but with non-alcoholic punch. It all kinda balloons out of my control when Mara and Plato kick off a competitive staff video game tournament and Syril learns how to play Mega Monster Slam to beat the stuffing out of all of us. But it’s one hundred percent worth it to watch Lysander slowly unwind, to the point that he stops going all stiff and awkward any time someone else walks into the room.

As much as I like seeing him open up to other people, the moments I hold close are the ones between just the two of us. The sparkle in his eyes when I catch his gaze across the room. The secret brush of his wings against my arms. The weight of his bare legs in my lap.

It’s getting harder to keep the three F’s — fucking, friendship, and feelings — from getting all tangled up in my head.

The arrival of a letter from the nonprofit jars me right back down to earth.

I’d almost forgotten I called them. I guess I’d shoved it to the back of my mind, not expecting anything to happen. I tear into the letter quickly before my hand slips and it ends up in the recycling.

Dear Mr Pine,