hxginn:
He isn’t surprised to see the deep lines of concentration fanning out from the other raven’s eyes — Muninn was always considered the overthinker between the two of them, the only one, aside from Odin, truly capable of keeping Huginn in line.   ❛  THEIR WORD, NOT MINE,  ❜  he makes sure to point out with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. It’s not as though the word itself is an important factor in their decision to copulate. Nothing is more important than Muninn’s compliance. If this is something he’s curious enough to try, then Huginn absolutely refuses to stand in the way of his desires. But he supposes he’s also at fault for permitting such curiosity and want to cling to him — impossible as they are to shake free of.   ❛   HERE, IN PUBLIC?  ❜  He asks, only half-serious. His body may be human, but he doesn’t possess their delicate sensibilities; voyeurism and indecent exposure may seem like a serious offense to most, but Huginn doesn’t see it that way. He is first and foremost a raven, and as such, he believes that gives him leeway to do as he wants.Â
And then Muninn’s teeth close around his fuller, bottom lip, and a shiver overtakes his body, goosebumps rippling across his skin as he unconsciously follows Muninn’s retreat, hungry for some nameless thing that must have been building for awhile.   ❛  CAN WE?  ❜  He breathes, not at all referring to the park he mentioned before. He’s far more interested in surrendering to this rather intense feeling — something that has to be human in nature. How can it not be when this is his first time feeling such an intense hunger for something he can’t even put a name to?   ❛   CAN WE, PLEASE?  ❜  Hopefully Muninn will know what to do — since his oddly dazed mind can’t seem to come up with the right answer.
he is ever quick to shift the blame, thus SHIRKING the idea of taking responsibility for one’s words and all but passing it to the next person like this torch he’s overheard a few humans comment on. but that’s part of huginn’s charm; his almost childish outlook in all he does. he’s been that way for as long as muninn has known him, which is frankly long considering it was odin himself who breathed life into their crow counterparts, assigning them the role of messenger — and even though they took their jobs about as seriously as they could, it was usually muninn who had to PROPEL huginn along their designated path of flight. even without their wings, their roles reduced to practically nothing — it’s reached a point that he doesn’t even know what to do with the life he’s been given — that part of huginn hasn’t changed, and it eases his mind quite a bit to know that whatever the humans have done to them hasn’t irrevocably altered their bond in any way.   ❛   i’ve heard that public displays of human affection are frowned upon,   ❜  he SAYS, the warmth of huginn’s breath inducing a tingling sensation in his lips and intensifying his hunger. he wants another taste — and a better chance to savor it — but acting on his desire now won’t make the situation any better. fact is — he would much rather do it in a more private setting, which would at least give him free reign to do what this human body desires.
❛   if you want,   ❜  he MURMURS, a teasing note in his tenor as he reaches for the other crow’s hand and tugs him in the direction of the apartment building in which he has built his nest. if there’s anyone he feels he can trust completely to explore these rather strange, but titillating tides with, it’s huginn.   ❛  we have much to ... learn.   ❜ Â














