Take a Chill Pill - Assorted Be More Chill Stuff

Feathers

Probably the closest thing to smut I'll ever write. If you don't want to read a mild make out scene, you don't have to. For those of you who want to, enjoy.

    Jeremy's wings grew faster than Michael's did.
    They'd started peeking out of their backs in elementary school, just like they did for any kid. Michael's actually started growing first. For almost a year, Jeremy was jealous of his friend's fluffy wings of speckled gray down. Finally, Jeremy's wings started coming in, later than those of all of his classmates. Pearly white, Jeremy's feathers were thin and silky. He and Michael would pet each other's wings at recess, dreaming of when they were grown up and had big, majestic wings and could fly through the clouds together.
    In eighth grade, Jeremy hit a growth spurt. He got tall and lanky. His wings grew bigger and stronger. By high school, they were big enough that he could actually fly with them, though he was too scared of falling to try, and they spread out behind him like a cloak of snow. Michael joked that all he needed now was a glowing frisbee floating above his head.
    Michael's wings were still feathered fluff, the equivalent of being 4'4" and chubby in eighth grade. Which he wasn't, thank goodness. He could still look Jeremy in the eye without tilting his head up too much. But yeah, he was a "late bloomer" in the wing department. It was his turn to be jealous.
    At least Michael's wings weren't heavy. Senior year, Jeremy got really bad headaches from the tension in his shoulders. While years of a backpack full of textbooks didn't help, it was the wings' fault.
    And that's how they ended up in Michael's basement with Michael giving Jeremy a massage. They'd gotten together to play video games, and Jeremy groaned in pain, swearing through his teeth.
    "Are you okay, man?"
    "No. My back fucking hurts. Meaning my shoulders hurt. Meaning my neck hurts. Meaning I have the worst migraine ever right now." Michael snickered, but his gaze and voice were soft.
    "What am I supposed to do about it? Give you a back rub?"
    "...Actually, that sounds kinda nice."
    "Wait, seriously?"
    "Y-yeah. Would you mind?" Jeremy was pale. His eyes were wide and pleading.
    So Jeremy ended up laying in Michael's lap, wings splayed over them like a blanket, long white feathers brushing on the concrete floor.
    Michael stroked his friend's wings with one hand, smoothing the plumes into a satiny sheet. With the other hand, he rubbed small circles into Jeremy's shoulders, working out the knots. They talked for a little while, before they got into a rhythm with it. It was relaxing, steady. Michael found his eyelids growing heavy and his hands slowing. Jeremy was breathing deeply, tiny snores forming in his nose.
    Then Michael's massaging worked down closer to the base of Jeremy's wings. At the special wing-slits in his shirt, Jeremy's skin transitioned to feathers smoothly. Michael's fingers pressed into the edge of the transition, and Jeremy's breath hitched. He froze in Michael's lap, growing very warm. His feathers perked up and fanned apart. Michael pulled his hand away, and Jeremy relaxed.
    "You okay?"
    "W-what!? Y-yeah. Fine." Jeremy sat himself up. His face was dusted with pink. His voice was squeaky.
    "You sure?"
    "Yeah. I'm sure. Thanks. It-it doesn't hurt anymore." Jeremy wouldn't meet his gaze.
    "Okay, then... back to beating level nine?"

    Michael looked it up that night.
    "The base of the wing is very sensitive. Many people don't notice, as it is not an area that can be reached by oneself. However, the point where skin and feathers meet is delicate and intimate and contact can stimulate both comfort and arousal." Michael was blushing as he closed out of the site. He'd accidentally done the equivalent of grabbing Jeremy's dick. Oops. He tried to touch at his own wings, just to see what it felt like. He couldn't get more than a handful of fluffy gray feathers. In retrospect, that sort of thing had probably been mentioned in health class back in freshman year. Then again, who actually expected him to have paid any attention in health class? He was pretty sure he and Jeremy played DS under the desk at the back of the class all semester.
    He never forgot, though.
    When Jeremy finally agreed to go out with him (okay, when he'd finally worked up the courage to ask), Michael found himself touching his back more and more. He didn't do anything, but he lived for the cautiously attentive look on Jeremy's face when he laid his palm between his wings. It also made him blush a little. Michael loved his blushy boyfriend.
    At Jake's second annual Halloween party, this one free of SQUIPs and arson, well... They got really drunk, for starters. The combined forces of way too much beer and truth or dare with Chloe, Brooke, and Rich, put Jeremy on Michael's lap and the two boys glued together by the lips.
    He didn't do it on purpose. He was just holding tight to Jeremy, feeling the shape of his torso as their mouths locked into sync. Michael didn't think about whether or not he'd caress Jeremy's wings. He just did it. Jeremy shivered at the touch, jaw going slack for a moment. The alcohol and hormones won in Michael's brain and he pressed his fingers into Jeremy's back, massaging the seam between feather and skin. Jeremy pulled back from the kiss, bright red. His eyes were distant. His mouth hung open and his arms grabbed weakly for Michael. His breaths were shallow and silent, accompanied by soft whimpers. His wings were spread, the feathers flaring and shining against the poorly-lit party. After a few moments of this, during which Michael pressed harder and harder and Jeremy got redder and redder, Jeremy got his arm thrown around Michael's neck and shoulders and pulled their faces back together. He was gelatinous from Michael's touch. Michael, mouth active again, let his fingers circle at the base of Jeremy's wings. Jeremy was turning to warm, gooey, blushing pudding in his lap. His wings wrapped around them, fluttering and cocooning them together in bliss as their mouths worked at each other's faces and the party was long forgotten.