Clipped Wings

Quail

Embarassingly, you pass out before you reach home. Hawks and Shouta take it upon themselves to strip you and wipe away the makeup, to unpin and comb your hair. You sleep floating in the bliss of their mutual embrace.

Waking is not quite so soft.

Something prods at one of your wings and you raise and flick it before it settle back. Another prod. "C'mon, baby bird. Up."

"Don't wanna." You turn and burrow against Shouta's warm chest.

He chuckles and wraps an arm around you. "Let her sleep, Keigo."

"No, we need to discuss this now." The winged hero's voice is deadly serious, more so than you've ever heard before. It prompts you to turn your head and blink open a tired eye.

He's still naked, phone in hand and the other hand on his hip. "Mirko told me what you said, baby bird. If you'd made that joke to anyone else, they might have taken it the wrong way."

Shit.

"I— I didn't mean to. It just kinda slipped out."

He kneels on the bed and smoothes back your hair. "I know, but you understand what it looks like, right? Like we're holding you here captive?"

Like what it actually is.

You don't want to ruin the tentative peace, not when you're so close to having a chance to get out.

"How are we supposed to trust you if you make comments like that, hm?" Shouta thumbs your waist affectionately.

Neither of them is surprised. They must have discussed this already and come to the same conclusion as Tohsaka: it wasn't serious enough to count as an escape attempt.

"I didn't mean to," you repeat helplessly.

Hawks shakes his head. "We want to take you out more, baby. You liked it, right? Being out last night?" You nod. "We could tell. And we'd love to do that for you, but we need some... insurance you won't try to get away."

You swallow. "Like what?"

"Let me tie you up and we'll show you," Shouta murmurs into your hair.

You nod reluctantly.

Shouta slips out from beneath you and goes to the closet to fetch his rope. It's black jute, a little rough on your skin but sturdy and it never tightens after he's knotted it. He begins with your wrists, up your elbows. He goes slowly, so you can feel the strangely seductive sensation of rope skimming your bare flesh. He's so good with it that you're almost in a daze.

Keigo, meanwhile, holds a glass of water to your lips to replenish your fluids.

Your chest and hips are both bound in harnesses, then your arms attached to them so you have no wiggle room without tossing your entire body side to side.

Lastly he binds your legs to the footboard so you can't kick them. Keigo then transfers the glass to Shouta and Shouta climbs to the head of the bed, laying your cheek against his knee. He holds the straw to your lips for a few more sips, then sets it aside. His forearms drape over your shoulderblades.

Keigo shuffles around out of sight before he returns to the bed. You can just see the looming shadow of his wings as he mounts your hips with a knee to either side. He strokes along your wings and you shiver under the gentle touch.

"We really didn't want to do this to you, my pretty bird. We wanted you to behave perfectly; we wanted to trust you fully. But, well, we discussed it. You know, some birds don't know what's good for them. They'll fly away from a warm home and get lost out in the world. We won't let you make that mistake."

Chills spread across your body in foreboding. Your body is trying to warn you.

Keigo shifts. He tackles one of your wings and pulls it taught, then lays a knee right on top so you can't unpin it from the bed. With one strong hand, he's tugging the other out so he can get at your primaries.

"No!" You toss ineffectually— Shouta's holding your torso down and you allowed yourself to be tied in such a way that struggling is futile.

The scissors hurt at the clip feathers never meant for shearing. The quills of each pulls and prods and poke uncomfortably as they are clipped. And blood trickles when a few pinfeathers are caught in the crossing.

"No!" you cry again as tears stream down your face. All around, little bits of plum and violet and magenta and white fall around you like a garish, bloody rain. "No, please—"

Hawks shifts his weight onto the newly-clipped wing and that hurts, too. It's so raw, so strange, uncomfortable, and unpleasant. You feel naked.

He stretches the other wing out as you try to retract it with all your might, but you've never been a match for him. Soon, he's cutting away the primary feathers there too.

"Sh." Shouta strokes your head as you devolve into wordless sobs. It's too late now. They've done it. They clipped your wings and put a tag on your foot and now you're just a house pet. "Shush, sweetheart. It's okay." The ropes loosen and come off, but you just cry harder as your weakened wings curl in around your body.

It's not okay. It'll never be okay again.