Feather Bound

Chapter 28

He released a soft sigh, his wings unfurling and stretching lazily behind him as he struggled to open his eyes. It felt like ages since he had slept so soundly through the night; even his phone had remained silent, devoid of any work emails or phone calls. He pulled the pillow he was holding closer, a childhood habit he had never seemed to kick—he always needed to grasp something while sleeping, whether it was his Endeavor doll, a pillow, or occasionally just a bundle of blankets. However, he couldn't figure out why the pillow in his arms this morning felt so fucking warm.

Releasing a small groan, he shifted slightly, finally blinking his eyes open. Furrowing his brows, he glanced down to solve the mystery when the events from the previous night rushed back, leaving him wide-eyed with horror. The supposed pillow he had been holding wasn't really a pillow at all; it was Y/N, her back pressed flush against his bare chest. His face burned, her scent overwhelming him and he could feel his morning wood straining against his pajama pants, making his heart race as he pondered his next move.

He held his breath, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest with some relief. She wasn't awake yet, which meant he could easily slip from bed and cool off before she ever noticed or knew what had happened. Inhaling sharply, he prepared himself to slip away when she suddenly shifted, her backside connecting fully with his groin. Biting his lip to suppress the groan that threatened to escape, he fought the urge to rut himself against her in response. Allowing her to settle fully, he finally managed to extract himself from the bed, heading for the bathroom. Swiftly closing the door, he leaned against it, sucking in air as glanced downward with a scowl.

Would waking up next to her always pose this problem? What the hell had transpired last night for him to be holding her like that? He distinctly remembered falling asleep with an actual pillow in his arms. He groaned, running through the possibilities and settling on a fairly solid theory. He must've gravitated towards her in his sleep, his stupid bird quirk seeking the extra warmth she provided—far more appealing than any ordinary pillow.

Sighing, he reached down, quickly squeezing himself through his pants. Two choices loomed before him. He could either wait it out, endure a cold shower and hope for relief, or take care of it now and get on with his day. Unsure of the time and with the nagging feeling that he was probably already late for patrol, either option had to be quick.

Tightening his jaw, he briskly turned on the shower, shedding his bottoms before entering the cold stream. He gritted his teeth, enduring the chill running over his head and through his wings. Typically, this would be enough, but today the persistent throbbing between his legs resisted, and after a few more minutes, he finally groaned in defeat.

Swiftly adjusting the water temperature, he shivered as warmth enveloped his chilled skin. Leaning against the shower tile, he reached an arm up, while his other hand ventured downward, engaging in a few deliberate strokes. Biting his lip, he looked at the pre already beading his tip, his thumb smearing it with a soft moan. At least this wouldn't take long; he already felt like he was going to bust, and he had hardly started.

Twisting his wrist, he focused, setting a steady pace. Biting down on his lip, he tried to stifle his subdued moans and groans, his toes curling as he rapidly approached his climax. The memory of their alleyway kiss flashed through his mind, and that seemed to be his undoing. A soft gasp escaped him, warmth pooling in his lower stomach as he tightened his grip.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned quietly, his hips jerking as he released into his hand, the water swiftly carrying most of it down the drain. He gave himself a few more gentle strokes, twitching from the overstimulation before finally releasing his grip. Taking a moment, his head pressed against the shower wall, he breathed heavily, riding out the last waves of pleasure.