Page 22 of Collected By the Crow

How would it feel to have her satiny fingers on him? If he’d allowed her to touch his cock, her hands would have been softer than velvet, he just knew it. He slid his fist up to the tip of his cock, sweeping his thumb over the bottom of his raised head.

“Cassandra.”

His vivid imagination and the still-foreign sensations made his whole body shiver, the spots where his feathers protruded from his skin prickling beneath the surface. His bump filled with lubricant that dripped over the base of his cock and along the shaft. He stilled his hand, wanting to stay in this visualization for as long as possible, though he was already close to losing it.

Once the tingling subsided and his bump paused its leaking, he breathed in and lightly tugged the skin of his cock down, caressing it all the way to the base of his shaft. He swiped his thumb at the spot where his bump’s lubricant had collected. This time, on the upward pass, he brought his lower left hand to his balls, which were engorged as though he were deep inside the warm cunt that his fingers remembered so well.

Hard as he wanted to keep delaying, to stall in the fantasy where her eager hands were exploring his cock and not his own, there was no way he could hold on much longer. He pressed his thumb between his balls as he moved his fist back up and traced his thumb under the lip, then back. A breath later and he sprayed the shower wall with thick white streams.

He rested his forehead beneath the shower and let the water drench his back. A frisson of shame climbed his spine. Cassandra hadn’t asked for his big, brutish body to be imagining her in his arms, her hands on his abnormal body, pleasuring him.

Still, the relief was immeasurable. Like his body had been begging for this for centuries, all of his pent-up come weighing down not just his body but also his soul. If he was ever given another opportunity to worship her, to make her feel this same sweet relief, he would deny himself a hundred more years just to give her that again.

After rinsing his seed off the wall and rewashing himself, he stepped from the noise of the shower and listened closely, expecting to hear her somewhere in the castle. Nothing. He dressed and went to the nearest window. He’d been sure she would return tonight. That’s how it had sounded. Had he scared her away? Did she regret what they’d shared? She’d said yes. She’d encouraged him. Was he so out of practice that it’d been the worst orgasm she’d ever had, and now she wanted distance from him?

“She wouldn’t leave Zero.” He ran a hand through his damp head feathers. The crows would be up soon. Surely one would be awake enough right now to be roused. He had to check on her, in case something had gone wrong. Lab experiments went south sometimes. Cars malfunctioned. He didn’t want her to be a statistic. “She may be in trouble.”

On the roof, the nightly cuddle puddle was in full swing. It wouldn’t start breaking up for another hour, approximately ninety minutes from dawn. Qadaire woke a male, who begrudgingly agreed to help. His stirring accidentally woke the crow snuggled against the first, who settled on Qadaire’s shoulder.

“Thank you, friend,” Qadaire called as the bird flew away in the direction of Dr. Billing’s lab.

After a short while, Qadaire checked their progress. The glass tower loomed closer. The crow rose sat on her windowsill as a pinkish-orange light lit the building from the other side.

Cassandra was deep in conversation with someone he recognized from his time spent watching her. A friend of hers. They were discussing something over a pile of notes. The conversation went on for a while, and Qadaire began to feel antsy. He thrummed his fingers on the table.

“Why is she working with them and not here, where we’ve already made progress?” His fists curled uselessly at his sides. “I did drive her away, then.”

What had done it? The sight of him feeding from the buck? His four deformed arms pinning her to the wall, surrounding her with ashen skin? His unpracticed fingers buried in the sweet warmth of her sex?

He held the connection longer than the crow approved of, but he couldn’t tear away. The other human gave signs they were about to leave. Cassandra reached for their wrist. She pulled them close against her body in a warm embrace, little streaks on her cheeks glistening. The other human brushed the glossy black hair from her forehead and kissed her there. When the embrace broke, the person left.

Qadaire had no reason to feel his black blood souring in his veins. He had no reason to feel so rejected. He knew there was nothing between him and Cass, and that this person was her close friend. In all honesty, he would’ve been jealous of the microscope if it’d kissed her goodbye.

“It was hardly a hug.” They only had two arms. How could they possibly hold her close enough?

She would leave soon. She was always in a rush to and from work for Zero. She pulled out a chair, a notepad, and a gel pen.

“Tap the glass,” he ordered, but the crow’s head tilted to and fro in defiance. “Do it.”

Their beak pecked the glass once, twice, thrice. Cassandra looked up, down, and did a double take. The pen in her hand went slack, then slammed against the paper as she stood abruptly.

“Is that you? Q?” She pushed away from the desk and carefully rounded the corners of her setup. “Are you spying on me?”

“Spying!” he exclaimed, though she wouldn’t hear him. “Of course not!”

“Shoo! You have Zero, dude. Obviously, I’m coming back.” She trilled her fingers against the window. The crow careened into the sky. “Shoo!”

The crow was far away before he could command it otherwise.

“Spying,” he spat. He preened his arm feathers in frustration. “The gall!”

But you were spying, weren’t you?

Qadaire shook the crow off his shoulder with a glare.

“Fine.” He ran a hand through his head feathers and tangled tresses of hair. Regardless of his intention, if she felt violated, then he was in the wrong.

There would be consequences to this mistake. He could kick her out, pretend he did nothing wrong. He could charm her, win her favor. The loss of her presence and the invalidating of her feelings were unthinkable.

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