anime boy cockpit 🤡

You felt your cheeks burn and your heart leap to life in your chest. Your voice twisted into a knot in your throat as you ignored his question, replaying how your conversation had taken such a turn. It wasn't the first time your conversations had dwelled into that territory, but that was usually when the sun was down, you were alone in a small room where the air felt too thick and your breathing was too heavy, and it was past the hour of smart choices. Like you were daring your friendship. Played chicken with how far you could push it, how many steps you could take over the fading line in the burning sand.

But it was never out in the open, sun high, Hawks staring at you like he'd heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.

"Not a single person you've been with has ever gone down on you?" Hawks cocked a brow, leaning over until you had to meet his gaze.

Words tangled in your throat like headphones in a pant pocket. You shrugged in response. You'd only been with a handful of people, and it was never something that was checked off the list. There were other forms of foreplay, sure, but the encounters never lasted long enough for that to happen.

Hawks frowned, a rare sight on his usually cheery face. He pushed his goggles to the top of his head and looked out over the skyline. Pulling another rare card: silence. Letting it fall between you as his brows pinched, losing himself in whatever thoughts were flying through his head. His unchanging expression gave no hint as to what they were. Pity? Curiosity? Disbelief?

A quiet Hawks made your nerves twist. So you did all you could think of: broke the tension.

"Asking me as if you ever have the time to do anything yourself." You laughed awkwardly. "I mean, as if you have time to do that with your partners."

Hawks didn't respond for a moment. Letting the honking cars and the rustling of the aesthetically planted trees fill the space. When he finally responded, his voice was quiet and husky. Filled with certainty and confidence only he could exude. Making the vast open space feel like a windowless closet, not enough space between you to even breathe without touching.

"On the contrary, it's what I spend the most time doing. Knowing I can make my partner cum over and over just from my mouth?" His eyes shot to you. "It's one of my favorite things."

You were holding your breath. You had no reason to be, and as your lungs started to burn, you realized you hadn't responded. But how were you supposed to? What were you even supposed to say? This wasn't the first time one of your conversations had ventured into this territory, with the mention of romantic and sexual partners, but never so explicit. And never so casually.

Many things came to mind, many of which you couldn't say. None of which you would say as your tongue felt too heavy in your frustratingly dry mouth.

You were saved by the sound of Hawks' phone chiming. His serious expression shifted as he glanced down at it. You recognized the familiar notification of a call for help. A fire had broken out and his help was needed to rescue those trapped inside. You took an impossibly slow breath as Hawks stood, stretching out his wings and sighing.

"Thanks for the coffee," Hawks mused, that familiar heart-stopping smirk creeping onto his lips. It stole the breath from your lungs as soon as it got there. "I'll see you later, (Y/N)."

He left you, as he left everyone, in the dust on the roof. Left to your endless thoughts roaming between harmless curiosities to what-ifs that previously had only made appearances when you were lying in bed alone at night. When the moon was high, your covers were kicked from your bed as you tossed and turned, and the ache that made your entire body restless took over. Dragged your mind down into the depths that sprouted from those nights with Hawks. Where your friendship blurred. Where the lightest touch that would otherwise mean nothing turned into a world of possibilities. Hands grazing as you reached for the same drink. The way his eyes watched your mouth even when you stopped speaking. How nice his body felt beneath yours as you slept on your couch, exhausted from a day of patrolling.

Then your phone chimed. A sidekick calling about a nearby incident. You took one final sip of your drink, burying down the image of Hawks kissing down your stomach, hands pressing your thighs open, his breath tickling you where you ached. You were never so thankful for getting called to work. It was the perfect excuse to prevent your mind from wandering far beyond the line of your and Hawks' friendship.

And it worked for the rest of the day. Until you got home, exhausted, drained to the point that, as soon as your head hit your pillow, you were out cold. There was no peaceful drifting into the world of dreams that people often romanticize. It was like you were thrown into a pit of darkness, swallowed by sleep, and spit out into a dream right in the middle of the action. No recollection of how you'd gotten there, but you were pressed against a wall, dress pushed up around your waist.

You blinked down, unable to fully see what was laid out before you. But you could feel it. Hands on your hips, holding them firmly back against the wall. A mouth kissing along bare skin, following the curve of your hip. Fingers tickling your skin, parting folds, making you gasp as they teased exactly where you wanted them. Pushing into you as the kisses moved downward. A mouth hovering over your clit.

"It really is," they spoke, a voice you'd recognize in an instant, "one of my favorite things."

You felt his tongue first. Flat against your clit. Then his lips closed around it and sucked. Your eyes shut, hands searching for purchase in his golden hair, back arching off the wall as his fingers curled inside you. Like he knew every inch of you and knew exactly how to make you squirm. And then it bled into so much it felt like nothing.

Like you were having an out-of-body experience. Left with only a taste of Hawks, well, tasting you. You tried with more might than you wished to admit to get back to your body. To feel the pleasure that, as you continued to writhe around, Hawks was clearly giving you. But it was like your legs were too heavy. Your eyes couldn't quite open enough. Your mind was processing directions too slowly. By the time you finally returned to your senses, when you were finally able to return to the moment, you felt like you were on the edge. The pleasure so close that you were going to burst yet entirely out of reach as, suddenly, you woke up to your alarm. Yanking you from the dream so hard you were sure you woke up with whiplash. Gasping as sweat slicked your body. Trying your best to ignore other slick parts of you.

A week passed with the same nightly occurrence. While you didn't see Hawks in person—not an uncommon occurrence given your busy schedule—you saw him every night in your dreams. Those of which were quickly becoming nightmares with how desperate they left you. Only with a tease of possibility, a taste of what it might feel like before you woke up having felt edged and unsatisfied. But you never gave in to the ache. A pang of embarrassment kept your fingers from drifting between your legs. If Hawks ever found out what you were dreaming about, how you'd woken up from said dreams and how you'd wanted to take care of that need? You were sure you'd never live it down.

So you lived with the ache. The throbbing need. Blue balling yourself so hard you had to throw yourself into your work harder than before. More hours patrolling, fewer breaks, rarely checking your personal messages. Distractions until you didn't need them anymore. But the dreams, the spiraling thoughts into the depths of Hawks that crept in during milliseconds of downtime, didn't stop. And they seemed to have no schedule of doing so.

It was a special kind of torture. One that kept you from talking to and seeing your friend while constantly thinking about them. It meant ignoring their calls and texts as you lay in bed wishing they were there beside you. Repeating every little skin-tingling thing they've said as you try to fight how they make your heart race.

No, that wasn't torture. Not compared to the evening you'd spent patrolling, came home and showered, and stepped out to hear a rapping on your balcony door. And there was only one person in your life who would show up on your balcony and so nonchalantly knock on the glass door. And he stood there, red wings basking in the moonlight, goggles on his head, eyes glittering as soon as they saw you.

"Hi," he cooed as you slid the door open, a small smile on his lips.

You tried to control the emotions that were spinning out inside you.

"Hi," you echoed back at him. Voice soft, stiff.

He leaned back against the railing of your balcony and took a slow breath, studying you dressed solely in an oversized tee-shirt and shorts so short they were hidden beneath your top.

"I wanted to apologize." He watched you closely as he spoke. "On the roof that afternoon, I hadn't meant to overstep. I'm sorry if I crossed a line with what we talked about.”

You blinked at him. You hadn't even thought about that aspect. Not during your avoidance of Hawks' calls and texts. It took a second before you could speak, but you managed to find your voice. Even if it came out a little too loud.

"No." You coughed to try and cover up the sudden volume. Trying to hide the neediness in your voice, hoping he hadn't noticed. "You didn't. I've just...been busy."

You weren't a liar when it wasn't necessary for battle or a mission. You could pull a mean poker face when needed and could monologue to distract a villain long enough to capture them. But lying to Hawks about something so intimate? An impossible task.

And Hawks absolutely knew it.

"Busy?" His mouth tipped into a smirk as he studied you. Eyes lingering over your bare thighs as he scanned down your torso. "Really?"

"Yeah," you stuttered out the word. "Busy."

Hawks nodded and pulled a hand free from a glove, removing his goggles from his head before running his hand through his hair. You watched as his fingers combed the gold strands, and Hawks cocked a brow. You hoped he hadn't heard your choked gasp as you thought back to your many dreams where you got to tangle your hands in his hair.

Then he smirked. He knew. Observant bastard. He knew.

"You sure everything's alright?" Hawks pushed off the railing and stepped towards you. It took everything in you not to blurt out something silly. "Cause you seem wound up a little tight."

He reached a hand up and—still gloveless—pinched your chin. He narrowed his eyes as he studied you. You couldn't hear the sound of the wind over your heart in your ears. His touch tingled against you. And despite not wanting to say anything stupid, your breath hitching was more than enough to compensate for that as Hawks touched you. As he stepped closer and closed the gap.

"Talk to me," he whispered.

This wasn't the first time you'd been this close. A few months back, you'd come close to kissing. Dangerously close. Mouths hovering, breathing heavy, a drink of liquor blurring away your ability to make smart choices. You would've kissed had Hawks' phone not dinged and a sobering wave of realization of what was about to happen dawned on you. You never talked about it after. But it didn't stop the small moments. Like Hawks on your balcony with very little space between you, his hand holding your chin, asking you to tell him what had you so wound up.

Him. It was all him. The dream version and the one standing before you. The cocky bastard with his knowing smirk like he could tell exactly what you were thinking. Like he knew every wet dream you'd had about him.

"It's complicated," you murmured. Voice as rough as sandpaper. Wind whipping the warm air around you.

"Uncomplicate it." Hawks met your gaze. "I want to help."

You couldn't help it. But you laughed. A little dryer than you'd meant, but it was his fault you'd started thinking about him between your legs in the first place.

"I...can't." You weren't sure what else you were supposed to say.

Hawks went quiet and you expected him to step back, say goodnight, and be on his way. To your surprise, he didn't.

"Does it have to do with our conversation on the rooftop?"

Your hesitation was answer enough for him. In an attempt to come up with the best answer, it seemed that lingering silence was more than enough. Hawks took a deep breath, his feathers rustling. His hand twitched on your chin before it slid back, gliding across your jaw. You nearly stumbled back at the movement, biting your lip to prevent a gasp from sneaking out.

"(Y/N)," Hawks said so softly you barely registered it. "Let me make it up to you."

"You have nothing to-"

"Let me make it up to you," he repeated, mouth moving to hover over yours.

A beat of silence, your brain scrambling with his mouth so close to yours.

"How?" You weren't sure why you were asking. Hawks was going to tell you regardless. Even if he didn't owe you anything.

He shifted. Leaning forward until his mouth was beside your ear. His breath tickled your skin as he spoke.

"Let me make up for how your previous partners have been lacking." His next breath came out ragged. Your heart surely had come to a stop in your chest. You swallowed hard, rushing to process Hawks' words to make sure you hadn't misheard him.

"W-What?"

You pulled back as much as you could manage, meeting Hawk's gaze. Those gold irises darkened and glittered. Pupils blown and nearly swallowing the rich color. You felt floaty under his stare, feeling your heartbeat over every inch of you. That ache you woke up with every morning was back tenfold. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive in all the ways you'd dreamt; his feathers stiff on his wings as he waited. Struggling not to fill the silence as you took shallow after shallow breath.

"Let me show you," he said as his eyes dropped over your chest, stomach, and down to where the hem of your shirt covered, "what you've been missing."

And then Hawks said the unexpected in a voice so strained it shattered what little sanity you had left. What was keeping him on the patio and you inside your apartment. It croaked out of him in a voice dripping with as much need as you were sure you were dripping with. Just a simple, desperate please.

Hawks was always particular about his behavior. Every action he'd taken, every word he'd said, every smile he's given. It'd always been deliberate. He'd always oozed charisma, whether it's practiced or genuine. He could have a reporter or fan blushing and blubbering from a little look and a lean. Add a few flirtatious words, and you were sure they would've combusted on the spot.

He rarely ever lost control, rarely ever let that facade slip. Not unless there was a purpose. Not if there was a chance the cameras might catch it.

You'd seen the confidence. You'd seen the charisma. But you'd never seen it so outwardly directed at you when Hawks was so obviously not playing a role. So you blamed your response on that. It was the only option when you nodded your head and whispered the quietest okay. And with a swiftness you only saw in battle, Hawks was inside your apartment, balcony door shut, blinds drawn, your back pressed against it.

You'd thought about kissing him a few times even before your almost kiss. And you'd certainly thought about it many times after. But when his lips met yours in a slow, hungry kiss that was meant to tease, it was better than you'd ever imagined. It made your head spin, the way his mouth melded with yours. How his hands found their way into your hair and tugged, tongue grazing your lip as you gasped. It was a preview. An example of what he could do with his tongue before he got to the main act.

He didn't have to kiss you, not when all you'd agreed to was him putting his tongue somewhere else, but you weren't going to complain. You weren't going to stop. You couldn't stop, not when it finally felt like you'd gotten a sip of water after a day without it. Not when Hawks made your entire body burn and all he was doing was kissing you.

"How can I have you?" He asked as he nipped along your jaw, hands dropping to your hips with a deliciously tight grip.

You responded with a whimper in the vein of a what? Hawks smirked against you, fingers slowly bunching up the fabric of your shirt.

"Do you want to stay in this?" He tugged on your shirt. "Or do you want to lay bare?"

A groan slipped out and you mentally cursed yourself. He had such a potent effect on you that it was worrisome. Another whispered curse followed when his fingers hooked around the waistband of your shorts, the tips tickling beneath your navel, and he pulled up.

"Or if you wish to keep these on as well. I can make that work too. I like a challenge."

The tiny bit of friction that came from Hawks' tug drove you up the wall. You immediately wanted more, and you would give it to him with just the muttering of the words. All he had to do was ask.

He tugged on them a few more times before he kissed down your neck, only lingering a moment, and then he was on his knees. He looked up at you with an innocence so mocking that it should've sparked anger in you. And then he leaned forward and kissed exactly where your clit was through your shorts. Pressing his tongue hard so you could feel it through the fabric and your eyes fluttered closed.

"You haven't answered me, (Y/N)." He twirled his fingers around the waistband of your shorts, stealing a bit of your underwear with them. "Tell me what I am allowed to have and what I am allowed to do."

You barely managed to breathe out an off. Hawks had you in the palm of his hand, giving you a feigned sense of control, when he knew exactly how you turned to putty under his touch.

Slowly, he tugged your shorts down. "So I can have these off?"

You nodded, breathing going rapid as he pulled them down your legs.

"And what about these?" He didn't touch you, forcing you to open your eyes to see him staring at your underwear. His eyes met yours. "And do you want me to stop after just one? Or am I allowed to go until you can't give me any more? Because I will tongue fuck you until I get every last drop, (Y/N)."

Even if you could speak, you weren't sure what you could say in response. But Hawks had successfully stolen your voice. Along with any coherent thoughts. All you could do was stare at him as you soaked your underwear, inching closer to him, discovering just how much he affected you.

"And tell me," he murmured, his fingers coming up and gently flicking over the crotch of your underwear. He cocked a brow and from even the light touch, you knew he could feel how badly you wanted this. Wanted him. But he continued on with his previous point, his fingers twitching to go back and touch what he'd just gotten a slight taste of. He held his hand beside his face and wiggled his fingers lazily. "Am I allowed to use these, too?"

You said his name. It was meant to be a warning, but it came out far closer to a plea. A beg. You wanted him to touch you. More than you wanted anything at that moment. And all it did was make Hawks' grin widen and his eyes flicker with mischief.

Carefully rising to his feet, Hawks leaned forward, making sure his lips grazed yours. "You have until we get to your bedroom to decide your answers to those questions. Otherwise," Hawks said as he nipped at your bottom lip, "I'm leaving you just like this. And the offer's off the table."

Hawks had more control than you did. He'd proven it ten times over during your friendship. So it was an easy threat. One he wouldn't hesitate to follow through with. So you had to have answers for him. Even if your mind struggled to make them as you were guided to your bedroom, thoughts scrambling to form proper sentences. But you couldn't get a grasp on the words. As soon as they came, they left. So you worked with what you could manage, blurting them out as soon as Hawks closed your bedroom door.

"Whatever you want. You can have whatever you want."

Hawks stopped, hand on your doorknob, seeming to slow his breathing before he turned to face you. He stalked towards you like a feline at its prey.

"Really?" He took a slow step forward.

You nodded.

"So I can have you naked, entirely bare to me?" He hooked two fingers underneath the hem of your shirt. You nodded. "And I can lick that pretty clit until you can't cum anymore?"

You nodded again, barely able to hold eye contact.

"And I can plunge my fingers as deep as you'll take them so I can feel every little squeeze of that cunt as I devour you?"

"Yes," you squeaked out, and it almost looked like something feral inside Hawks snapped.

"Then get on the bed. Now."

You did as you were told, crawling back onto your mattress, Hawks stalking after you. You expected claws tearing your shirt off. Knees nudging your legs apart as he went directly for the kill. But he kissed you slowly, swallowing every moan and sigh that slipped from you as his hands slid over your ribs. They took your shirt with them, only breaking the kiss to pull it over your head. And as his eyes dropped to your chest, you felt his hips twitch between your legs, something hard pressing against your cunt as Hawks seemed to memorize your chest. Nipples hard and taut, goosebumps covering your skin as the faint chill from your AC kicked in.

"Go ahead," you muttered, praying that you were reading Hawks' expression right. And the way his eyes shot to yours told you that you had.

"I'm here to taste that sweet cunt, (Y/N)." He started to kiss down your chest, stopping over your breasts. He flicked his tongue out just enough for it to brush a nipple. A fleeting touch as he continued to kiss down your stomach. "Another time, and I will lavish that chest with the attention it deserves."

Another time.

Your breath hitched. A thought you couldn’t dwell on as Hawks smirked, hooking his fingers over the crotch of your underwear, lazily pulling them down. He guided them down your thighs, over your knees, from around your ankles, before acting almost bored as he dropped them to the floor.

"But now," he cooed as he dropped to his stomach, pushing your thighs as wide as they'd go, "I have to show you what you've been missing out on."

He parted your folds with his fingers, wasting no time in groaning and gathering your wetness on his fingers. He used his thumb and forefinger to hold them open as he blew gently on your clit, licking his lips as he smirked.

"Someone's excited." He leaned forward and barely let the tip of his tongue swipe against your clit. You jolted at the minimal contact. "Just for me?"

He was waiting for a response. He kept you spread wide, mouth hovering, waiting for you to answer him. You glanced down at him and you practically felt yourself getting wetter. He hadn't even done anything, and he was already driving you mad.

"Yes," you said, and it wasn't a lie. "Just for you."

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now, if you want me to stop, just say the word. Alright?"

You nodded, and Hawks gave you a pointed look. Blew gently on your clit and waited.

"Alright," you said, strained.

"Atta girl."

He gave you one final smirk before his mouth was put to use. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked ever-so-gently. Careful in his movements, delicate and precise, making sure to draw out every possible ounce of pleasure he could get from you. Flattening his tongue against your clit and licking slow lines. Pushing your legs up and open and sucking softly. Letting the tip of his tongue circle and lick your clit in rapid succession, switching between rapid flicks and slow licks. His mouth dipping lower, tongue prodding at your entrance. Never giving you too much at once, eyes occasionally bouncing up to yours to study your expression. Repeating what made you tense and tremble, obviously in no rush to finish the job.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he teased your clit over and over. It felt so good. Impossibly so. Endlessly better than your dreams. Your Dreams. You groaned, remembering all the nights you'd dreamt of this, of all the mornings you'd woken up wishing you had just let your fingers drift between your legs. Making you feel exactly how Hawks was. So close. So impossibly close. You never got the release with dream Hawks. Always woke up before you could cum. But Hawks, the one actually between your legs, was on a mission. And the dedication and determination he was putting in was pushing you closer and closer. Your body started to shake and your brows pinched. Not once had you ever thought Hawks would end up between your legs, giving you exactly what you'd been dreaming about. Fantasying about.

And then his head lifted.

"I must not be doing that good of a job if you're lost in thought," Hawks' voice penetrated your thoughts. It was rhetorical, of course. Hawks knew he was driving you absolutely mad. So much so that you could barely process anything except the pleasure.

It wasn't a question, but the way Hawks lifted his head and swapped his tongue for a finger, slowly circling your clit to the point where your trembling thighs had no chance of stopping, told you he wanted an answer.

"Tell me," he murmured, running his finger a little slower. Counterintuitive as it just drew the pleasure out in longer waves. "What could possibly draw your attention away from this?"

Your heart fell into your stomach, twisting and turning as you grew closer to the edge even from just one of Hawks fingers on your clit. The slow circles making you close to begging for more. For his tongue to go back to massaging your clit, for his finger to just go faster, or to even dip lower and slip inside you. You couldn't tell him you'd dreamt of him. He'd never let you live that down. As if he was ever going to let you live this down. You could ignore an almost kiss. You couldn't ignore Hawks having his tongue inside you.

"I was just thinking about..." You swallowed, trying to fight the way you stuttered through your words. "How much better this is than when I dreamt about it."

Hawks' eyes narrowed. Sharpened.

"Dreamt of it? With me?"

"With you."

Hawks' finger stopped for half a second, his eyes closed, head hung a bit. His hair tickled your abdomen as he let out a shaky breath.

"I want to know every detail of those dreams." He lowered his head back down as his finger worked a little faster, circling your swollen clit with precise circles and a speed meant to jerk you close to the edge. "Another time. But, Christ, I want to know them. But right now, I want to make those dreams a reality for you. So," Hawks said as he opened his eyes and peered up at you. "I'm not stopping until you really give me every last drop."

His tongue replaced his finger, and he didn't stop the fast kitten licks even as your back arched off the bed and the coil in your abdomen tightened. Not when you said his name, a mantra on your lips as if you were trying to warn him. Nor when your hands anxiously shot to his hair to try and get a grip on something. Because you were so close. So close. And Hawks knew it. Never—not once—backing off as your heels searched for traction on your bed. They slid as you pressed your head back into your pillow, hips pressing up against his face.

"Hawks, Hawks, Hawks," you pled.

And then he wrapped his lips around your clit and hummed. Sucking as the vibrations rocked you right over the edge. Without any restraint, without any mercy. Like he shoved you off a crumbling edge, down into the depths below, his feathers falling around you as you tumbled.

You came. And you came hard. Digging your nails into Hawks’ scalp, tugging on his hair, kicking out at the bed as you came. Every muscle in your body tensing as you writhed beneath him.

Hawks lifted his head only when you tugged gently on his strands, unable to handle the light licks of his tongue on your throbbing clit. His mouth twitched into a smirk as he looked at you, mouth glistening. He licked his lips and cocked a brow.

"Good girl." He ran his thumb lazily over your clit. Smirking as you jerked with each graze. He gave no warning for his thumb speeding up and his other hand pressing two fingers against your entrance. "Now give me another."

And you did. Taking his fingers knuckle deep, eyes closing as his thumb practically abused your clit and his fingers worked your cunt. Over and over until your back bowed and you came around his fingers. But he didn't remove them from you. Just switching his thumb for his mouth and went for another. And another. Until tears were streaming down your cheeks, your body hurt from the tensing muscles and the exertion, and you came more times than you could count on one hand. Hawks knew after the first one how to get you off with his mouth. Knew how to get you off with his fingers after the second. And he showed you just how good his memory was, how dedicated he was to getting you off, with each orgasm he tore from you.

Sweat soaked you and your sheets, and your wetness dripped down your thighs as Hawks continued to finger fuck you, his fingers squelching with each pump.

"H-Hawks," you begged, gasping when he pulled his fingers from you. He licked them clean before propping his chin in one hand and eyeing you.

"Done already?"

You stole a glance at your nightstand's clock. Hours. Hours had passed. You weren't sure you could give him anymore. You hadn't been keeping track, but you knew it was getting close to hitting double digits. If it hadn't already.

Your eyes fell to the way Hawks' hips were pressed against the bed. He could have as much control as he wanted, but he had to have been hurting. You'd noticed it earlier, hours earlier, and a dangerous thought came to mind that you immediately quelled. This was already friendship-altering. You couldn't ignore this like you could a potential kiss. And if this was just a one-time thing, even if Hawks had said another time, you couldn't risk ruining what little bits you had left with asking him to fuck you.

You wanted him to, badly. To practically fuck you into the mattress.

"And here I was hoping to get at least five more out of you." He ran his thumb over your clit, and you jumped so hard that Hawks laughed. "But I wouldn't wanna abuse this pretty pussy too much."

He kissed your clit one final time before he pushed himself up from your bed, giving you a sight of exactly how much he had to have been struggling. His loose pants did nothing to hide the tent of his erection. He followed your gaze and gave you the same smirk he always did.

"Don't." He crawled over you and pressed his mouth to yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue, as he kissed you dumb. "You're already exhausted." His nose nudged yours. "I did what I said I’d do. And you, well, came like you were supposed to."

There was the faintest hint of bittersweet in his voice. He hoisted you up from the bed, giving you no time to register his body leaving yours before you were in his arms.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

He carried you into your bathroom and started the shower.

"Join me," you muttered, barely able to stand. You leaned on him for support when he sat you down.

"Wow, and here I thought you were spent." Hawks pulled the curtain back and guided you in.

"Will you be here when I get out?" Your eyes felt heavy as the warm water washed over you.

"You already know the answer to that." For the first time that night, his smile wavered. His jaw clenched. His wings tensed.

You started to say his name, but he drew you into another kiss, not caring about the water wetting his hair, his face, his clothes. That bittersweet feeling was back. An uncertainty that you couldn't tell came from you, Hawks, or maybe the both of you. His tongue grazed yours once before he was gone, two feathers left behind to close the shower curtain behind him.

You leaned against the freezing wall and listened to the water circle down the drain knowing Hawks wasn't going to be there when you got out.

You had no idea what came next, but you knew it wasn't going to be putting this night behind you. Even if you wanted to, it was imprinted on you like Hawks' fingertips on your thighs. And you weren't sure whether you were excited or nervous to see Hawks after this.

Only time could tell.

And it was going to be a fair amount of time before you saw Hawks again. Despite your own desires to see him sooner.

When you got out of the shower, you dreamt of the nights you and Hawks had spent the night together, bodies pressed together and hearts racing, hands never roaming. Of the days you spent patrolling together, attending events, bitching about responsibilities.

Of him spending the night beside you that night, ignoring how empty your bed felt without him beside you.