Clipped Wings

Thrush

Days in the apartment are slow. You wake in the morning and usually find yourself alone now. Before, Keigo was taking a short leave of absence so he could "help his new pet acclimate" in his words. Thus, you were now free to scavenge for breakfast on your own.

After breakfast, you generally laze on the sofa to watch television for a bit, then you make yourself do a little exercise.

That's harder than you'd like to admit. The time spent locked in the room had done your fitness no favors. Your wings are much weaker and would surely fail in getting you anywhere, much less to the ground from the height of the penthouse.

You warm up, do some yoga and light calisthenics, then set yourself to flying around the penthouse. Your wings stretch wide, and you rise more slowly than you'd like, but you rise all the same. You first go to the loft and then sweep down to the bottom floor to turn into the kitchen. You land on the floor and then shoot upward toward the ceiling at your swiftest. It's not very fast; Hawks would catch you in instant.

By the end of the workout, you're sweaty enough to take a shower.

The shower is nice. It's rainfall style and heats up quickly. You step beneath the stream and find yourself enveloped in gentle raindrops and steam.

You scrub your skin and take down the separate showerhead to hose down your wings. When you get out, the wing dryer is the first stop on your mind; you hate having sodden wings. You don't understand how bird in the wild deal with them.

Well, you know how they do, but you don't like it. You spread each wing in the sunbathing position individually to shake loose any residual water, and then they go beneath the dryer again to ensure they're fully dry.

With that done, you're left to figure out the remainder of your day. They're now filled with streaming crappy television and reading whatever catches your attention from Hawks' bookshelf. It's boring, but it's infinitely better than the room.

You don't go in there until the end of the day.

"Come on, pretty bird. It's time for bed."

You glance toward the stove. "It's only ten thirty," you complain.

The winged hero crosses his arms. They're showcased in his white undershirt, the muscle flexing as they move. "Shouta is coming in early and I want you to get some sleep before he gets home."

You frown at that because Shouta is just going to curl up in bed around you. Every time you've seen the man has involved sleep, whether he's forcing you to bed for a nap or you're waking up with him suddenly there.

"I'm not tired," you try again.

Hawks is having none of it. "Don't make me drag you to bed, little bird. You won't enjoy it."

He could and it would be easy for him. You go into the bedroom.

At least it's not hard to get ready for bed. You brush your teeth and slide under the covers. Negligees and similar are the only clothes they've provided, so you only change in the morning.

And they have yet to give you panties. At least you don't have your period during Spring. You're always in ovulation mode.

"You're so beautiful." Hawks is already there. His tanned arms wrap around your waist and pull you close. "I' wanted you so much. You have no idea how hard it was to work with you every day and not have you."

He plants kisses on from your jaw to your shoulder and his hands pay homage to your body. You want to hate it, but he feels so good. He's making you feel so good.

"I love you; you know that?" He pushes you onto your back and slips down the straps of your nightgown. "I just want to keep you safe." He presses kisses to your throat and down to breasts. "I want to make you mine." Nibbles and suckles land on your stomach. "Want you to have my babies."

You keen. The thought of your stomach round with winged infants shouldn't be as stirring as it is.

He sits up and toys with your breasts. "Do you love me, baby bird?"

That breaks through the haze enough to warm your eyes with tears. You don't want to answer that.

"I see. It's okay, though. I'll make you love me." He leans down to kiss you and his mouth is hot and needy. His tongue sneaks between your lips to rove you, taste you, possess you. At your core, his fingers stroke and prod until he's able to ease in first one, then another. You arch in pain and arousal, but his larger form traps yours.

Keigo pulls away and the gaze in his eyes should be frightening.

"I'm gonna fill you up. Is that what you want, baby? Want me inside you every way you can get it?" You stare up at him plaintiff and he takes that as affirmation. "Open your mouth. I wanna see that pretty tongue." When you obey, he smirks, then spits.

You cringe as his hand slaps over your mouth. You can't get rid of the spit. He's not even letting you breathe. You're forced to swallow.

"So hot, that's my little slut."

Your core is getting wound up by his thrusts. He curves just right to hit your sweet spot. You wish you could hate it, and in the back of your mind you hate yourself for loving it.

"Get ready for it, baby bird." His fingers slip down again to play with your clit.

You hate him , you remind yourself. You hate him so much it could fill you up and boil over, but right now your body is surrendering to his will. You whimper and moan. You can't help it. You want more. You're easing toward the edge, and you need him to push you over it.

"You like this, you little slut?" He pounds into you harder. "That's it. You need this. You whore." Why are his words sending you reeling? "Bet you'll like this, too." Hawks slaps you across the face and it's so jarring your ears rings.

But it sends you flying. Your core clenches and you tingle with electricity from your toes to your scalp. The pleasure soars through you like a bird through a thermal, warm waves in tandem with your dizziness.

"Fuck, that's it." He cries out, hands shoved under your hips to raise your lower body to just the right angle. He's going so hard, so deep, it hurts as it prolongs your pleasure. Then he's holding you against him as he spills into you.

Keigo drops his head on the pillow beside you. His body is hot and it's crushing you.

"Good girl." He kisses your cheek and rolls to the side. "Get some sleep." He passes out within moments, and you're left to wiggle out and clean up on your own.