When Techno comes home, weary from a long day plowing at the frozen soil and doing his best to make his sprouting potatoes grow in the less than ideal weather, his birdie is waiting for him, stretched languidly across their couch, his wings fluttering softly and reflecting the firelight. The situation itself wasn’t uncommon, an easy set up of domesticity and trust.
The familiarity of it, then, was what made the differences that much more startling. Quackity was laying on his stomach, pillow between his legs, grinding against it without a care in the world. He only looked up from where his head was pressed into the couch to grin slowly at Techno, seemingly amused by the surprise written across his features. It took precious seconds for Techno to notice his wings were decorated with thin golden chains draped across the curve of them, blending in near perfectly with their amber color, if it weren’t for the glint of firelight on the metal.
Techno had seen them before, he had given them to Quackity, personally inlaid the rubies on the clasps that held snug to the bony parts of the hybrid’s wings. They were meant to be physical representations of his feelings, all of the love and affection Techno felt towards the other man. More than anything, meant for Quackity to enjoy, to wear at his leisure and admire if he so pleased. Never had the thought of something like this crossed his mind, never would he have expected Quackity to turn his gifts against him, stealing the air from his lungs.
He watches Quackity readjust to be sitting upward, legs crossed like he wasn’t putting his already leaking cock on display. The chains decorating him shift as he moves, dragging along his body and hanging loosely against his form. They make soft clinks as they collide, and Techno’s ears flicker at the sound. He’s so focused on the soft noise he almost misses the soft “Hola, cariño,” from Quackity, eyes slightly cloudy with pleasure resting heavily on his form.
Despite the fact that he was bare outside of the jewelry that adorned him, gaps in the gold lines accentuating the curves and planes of his body, only a dusting of pink rested upon his cheeks and shoulders. He seemed to be completely in his element, unlike Techno. He felt as if his brain was melting out of his ears, trying to reckon with the sight in front of him. Quackity always had a way of doing this to him. Every time he thought the other man couldn’t get any more beautiful, any more desirable in Techno’s eyes, he still managed to leave him starstruck.
Quietly, carefully, so as to not disturb the gentle atmosphere, he says, “What are you doing, Quackity?”
“Surprising you,” came the simple response. Techno’s entire body twitches forward when Quackity shifts once again, swinging his long legs over the end of the couch, causing the delicate chains wrapped around him to clink together once more. He gives Techno a coy grin, he knows how Techno’s affected by gold, even more so by Quackity wearing and appreciating the gifts he had so lovingly pieced together. He held the very essence of him in hand, and was toying with him, playfully poking and pulling to see what sort of response he could elicit next.
“Come sit with me?” Quackity says, patting the couch next to him and cutely tilting his head, exposing the still visible bruises littering his neck from the last time they had been intimate. Unable to resist his thrall, Techno walks in short, unsteady strides to sit beside Quackity on the couch, trying not to visibly stiffen when the smaller man crawls into his lap.
This close, the gold decorating him is even more entrancing, drawing Techno’s eyes to graze along the cascade of metal curving around his chest, resting gently against his skin like it belonged there. He looked not unlike a god to Techno, pretty and empyrean as Techno longed to reach out and touch the skin just underneath the chains.
Quackity drags his fingers across the thin material of Techno’s shirt, resting the tips of them on the collar smothered by the fur of his cloak. His expression is soft, his touches gentle and innocent, but his gaze smolders, lights a fire inside him as he says “Relax, babe. You’re so tense, it feels like I’m sitting on concrete.”
