The angel gazed upon the form before him, laying there, seductively. Hadrael wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen such beauty before. He believed her to be feminine, but there weren’t enough words exchanged between them to be certain. Was she mortal? A nymph? Something else entirely? A nymph, Hadrael settled on, for lack of a better label.

The nymph lay on a bed of grass and flowers, the night air a pleasant chill. Only the trees of the forest would be witness.

The angel leaned in close, his nose brushing against the nymph’s rod, which stirred at his touch. Before it could become erect, he took it into his mouth and worked his lips and tongue, and enjoyed the feeling of the nymph’s rod grow. He continued his ministrations for some time.

Eventually, even an angel needed air. With the same magick he used to doff his own clothing, the angel conjured a flask of oil, applying it in pertinent places. He enjoyed running his hands up and down the inner thighs of the nymph, and along her hardened length. His own rod was aching, throbbing, desperate, neglected.

The angel rose above the nymph, straddled her hips, and lowered himself upon her.

He gasped as she penetrated him, lost in a world of bliss.