Ganymede had many rules, Orlando thought.
Orlando was never allowed to touch him anywhere. Except of course where Orlando was allowed to enter. He was permitted to prepare Ganymede, to run his fingers round and round until Ganymede was ready for him. And then he was to keep his hands on Ganymede's shoulders the rest of the way, and when it was done, he was to let Ganymede walk away to bring about his own pleasure without Orlando's help.
Such strange rules.
And yet, so little to ask when Ganymede was willing to give him so much. When he was willing to let Orlando debauch him as they stood, leaning against a tree, surrounded by forest and darkness, as if they were creatures senseless with lust (and Orlando was not quite sure they weren't).
Orlando always tried to be gentle, but it was difficult to keep his wits when Ganymede's flesh was squeezed tight around him, when Ganymede moaned, high and soft like a woman every time Orlando pushed deeper. After the pleasure built and built and built, Orlando would spill inside him, and Ganymede would cry out, claiming to love the surge of Orlando's essence inside of him.
In those moments, when Ganymede opened up his body to him, let Orlando possess him entirely, Orlando felt as if he would never know anybody as well as he knew Ganymede. Even when Ganymede walked away to manage his business on his own, Orlando still savored this thought.