Page 21 of Twi-Flight
He spreads me over the bed. Leaning back to admire, making a satisfied noise in his throat like he’s actually accomplished something.
I grin and reach down to the button of my jeans. His hands land on top of mine, taking a slow care as he peels the pants from my legs. His hands take time to caress every part of my legs as he removes them and tosses them over his shoulder.
He dips down between my legs, his mouth finding all my sensitive places. The smooth hardness of his beak is a startlingly perfect contrast to his wet textured tongue. Every tense moment we’ve had together, every time I’ve watched his forearms, every small compliment he paid me come to a head. All my unrequited feelings, swell up inside me, pushing me forward. My hand locks, knuckles deep, into his comb and my hips tilt to grind up against his mouth until I’m screaming his name as I come. It’s almost embarrassingly fast, and embarrassingly strong. My body quaking with aftershocks I have to pull him away with repeated apologies.
“Don’t apologize. I’ve waited so long for this.” Eggward says as he moves his mouth up my body and plants a sloppy wet kiss against my mouth, our tongues mingling. He tastes like me. I love it.
“You are a mess,” I say, wiping my release from his waddle.
“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he’s running his fingers through my hair, and then all over my body. Lighting that unrelenting heat through me. I reach again for the waist of his pants and he again pulls away.
“Sorry.” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to cross a boundary.”
“No—it’s not that.” His tone is nervous.
I don’t say anything. I just reposition so I can run my hand over his chest. Enjoying the way that he feels under my touch. If he never moved again, and just let me touch him like this forever I would be happy. But He shivers when I finally reach his neck.
“You should know that I don’t look like regular men.” He’s leaning back on the bed, his legs straddling mine, pinning me to the bed, but he’s out of my reach.
“I think that’s already apparent.” I try to make my smile reassuring.
He nods, and looks to the ceiling, avoiding my gaze as he reaches for his pants.
I watch eagerly, excited to see more of his body. The fabric drops to the floor and between his legs is—downy feathers and a gentle curve. I turn my head to the side, looking for the problem.
“I have a cloaca.” He says.
For a split second my brain breaks and then I regain my consciousness. “Perfect.” I say. It’s not what I expected. But nothing about his body could change my mind at this point.
He doesn’t laugh, but I can see the relief flood through his body. He dips in to kiss me again. There’s a revitalized purposefulness to it. Like the goal has changed, from ‘me’ to ‘us’. And I welcome him into my embrace, his knee pressing betweenmy legs, our hands exploring each other. I let him lead, not sure what he needs from me, but knowing that I’m willing to give it to him.
Finally, he lifts my leg, and slides forward, threading our limbs together so he can rub his warm wet slit over my clit. The friction and pressure are so perfect, it’s better than I expected. I dig my fingers into the soft feathers of his face, pulling it down close to my own. Soon there’s nothing I’m saying but his name and the lord’s. Our breathing matches as he picks up the pace and my pleasure is cresting as he grinds forward and spills warm heat into and onto me.
He holds me tight to his chest as we both try to calm our panting and I’m hanging onto him like he’s the last bastion of hope in this imperfect world.
“That was—perfect.” After a long moment of peace he pulls back to look into my eyes.
“It was,” I agree, putting a hand up to his face. He presses his cheek into my palm.
“I’ll clean you up,” he says before wrapping his beak around my thumb in a playful bite before he leaves the bed.
I’m half asleep when he returns with a warm washcloth to gently wipe me down. I barely wait for him to finish before I am reaching to tug him down onto the bed beside me, so I can press my face into his downy plumage and I quickly fall asleep with his comforting scent filling my nose.
Chapter Eight
The night is almost gone, the grey light of morning is struggling to fill the room when I feel Eggward’s soft body sliding from beneath my touch.
“Where are you going?” I ask sleepily.
“Go back to sleep, chickadee.” Eggward presses his beak to my temple and I hear, rather than see, him leave the bedroom. I didn’t realize he woke up this early to take care of the chickens.
With a groggy moan I slip from between the sheets. Grabbing my pants and shirt from the pile on the floor, the shoes I left at the front door, and clumsily follow Eggward into the chilly early morning air.
“Mina?” Eggward’s voice appears from somewhere in the darkness beyond my front porch.
“I can help,” I stifle a yawn.
His voice falters. “Where do you think I’m going?”
