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Klintic had to be doing it on purpose. There was no way that l

evel of sexiness could be casual. Angel raced from the second-floor landing to his third-floor loft. He threw himself onto his bed and ripped his wet pants from his body.
“Fuck!” he gasped as his hard cock popped free of the confining material. He fisted himself, his knees raising as he thrust upwards into his hand.
“Oh, God,” he moaned, his head whipping back and forth on the mattress. There was no time for lube, no time for teasing. He had to get off now!
His right hand gripped his cock, rubbing his thumb over the swollen head while his left hand went to his balls, tugging them so the pleasure in his groin intensified. Damn that winged menace, he thought, biting his lips in an attempt to hold in the whining sounds coming from his mouth. Damn him and his wings and his perfect body and for being Angel’s fantasy made flesh. A man who was large enough to hold him down, to take what he wanted? Oh, yeah.
Angel, when it came to men, was an unabashed bottom. He liked having his ass stretched and filled. He loved the feel of a body holding him down, dominating him, controlling his sexual needs. There was something delicious and wicked about being at the mercy of a man.
And this man had wings.
God, he was perfect, Angel thought, his fist speeding up as fire built in his veins. And that hair, it would feel like smooth silk all over his body. That Klintic had picked him up and carried him to his house without breaking a sweat even after being injured said something about his strength.
And his cock — there were no balls, but the pale pillar of flesh had a delicious-looking flared head and rounded ridges running from the base to the tip. It was a mighty fine cock for reaching all his nooks and crannies, and he wanted to feel it burning within him as Klintic forced himself inside.
His moans were pure whines now, his hands flashing as they pumped.
“So good, so good, so good.” The bed rocked as his hips thrust up and slammed down in an attempt to force his orgasm.
But it was the image of Klintic, teeth bared as he bore down, as he bent his body in half to get deeper, as he threw back his head and screamed in release, that slammed Angel into orgasm.
“Fuck fuck fuck!” Angel screamed, his seed shooting out, a few ambitious spurts striking his chin before the rest dripped across his fist.
“Oh, man.” He collapsed back into his bed, fighting off the lethargy that swept over him.
Yeah, that was fast. But with such beautiful fodder to urge him on, it was a miracle he hadn’t come in his jeans.
He had to get it together. He heard the water still running, so he had an opportunity to clean up a little and find his new friend something to wear. Pity he couldn’t just run around naked. Maybe Angel could convince him to be more than just friends, at least while he was here.
With thoughts of a winged lover dancing in his head, he stumbled to the bathroom, tossed his clothing into a hamper, and began cleaning himself up, wondering if his visitor swallowed. The thought, much to his dismay, renewed his erection.
Changeling Press – Broken Wings: Part One
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