Private RP Blog

To no one's surprise, there was absolutely no need for it.

His own wings rustled as pride nestled within him, the sight of her wings and the pride she took in them the most beautiful sight of all. "Captivating," he whispered, thankful for the feathers hiding the blush spreading across his skin. Tucking his own wings behind his back, he spun almost playfully, landing almost fluidly by side before linking an arm with her own.

She walked with him gingerly, watching as he opened the window and leapt out as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Slowly stepping to the ledge, she looked down to where he stood. She supposed this was how most baby birds learned to fly or glide and it wasn't too high for her to worry about injury. However, she still seemed to be quite nervous. Looking back to Herneval's face she nodded. She trusted him, more than anything, she just needed to tell her body that.

Taking a deep breath, she jumped from the edge, trying her best to mimic how Herneval himself had done it. She opened her wings, the sudden resistance pulling her back slightly before she angled them. She focused on the Prince that awaited her at the bottom, focused on gliding to him, willing herself to do so. And so she did.

The landing however, was more than a little messy. Used to her shoes, the talons on her feet gripped a little too tightly when she landed and thrust her forward directly into Herneval's chest. She gripped onto him with a yelp, looking up at him with wide eyes; her wing feathers fluffed up in shock.

Hell, he hadn't thought himself capable of dreaming at all.

"I have been waiting so long to hear them!" he exclaimed, arms wrapping themselves around her tightly before leaning down to pepper kisses atop her head. He drank in the scent of her, more tears threatening to fall, "And how worth it! How worth it!"

A series of coos and chirps were to follow, suddenly unable to keep his hands to himself.

She hummed happily, feeling his hands trail across her body as though trying to hold ever inch of her; the feathers of his body tickling her skin and causing her to giggle happily. This moment would cement itself in her memory, she would never be able to forget it, nor would she want to.

She leaned up to kiss him, the kiss slow and lingering as her fingers brushed up his chest; her movements almost matching his own. Every inch of him she could reach, she touched, her fingers trailing through his feathered body and caressing his wings. When the kiss broke, it was as though all of the tension she had ever carried in her body had disappeared. She was truly relaxed.

Her back arched painfully, the only part of her she was capable of moving. He'd done well in securing her place, eyes widening as his fingers drifted downwards. The wood beneath her groaned, hands pressed firmly to his chest before curling into his garment. She'd pulled him closer yet at the same time seemed to push him away, a sharp cry echoing through the church halls. It was empty, and that on its own allowed to hear exactly what he was doing, head lifting from his chest and falling back as if she couldn't bear her own weight.

Swallowing harshly, her fingers curled into his hair, willing his lips tighter against her skin. She wanted them there, craved them there, and she was no longer able to care for how she sounded. Her moans were loud, angelic to most, legs willing themselves to close but finding themselves unable to. She fought it, willed it away for as long as she could, eyes glazing as the pleasure gripped her fully.

He might have continued long after her exclamation of faith had his fingers not threatened to cramp up on him. He slipped them from her suddenly, denying her yet another release. But the expression on his face made it abundantly clear that he wasn't done yet. Holding her close to him, he reached his fingers up to lap at them with his tongue, a pleasant groan sounding from him as he did so.

"Delicious," He hummed, taking a short moment to check in with her "Mind if I indulge a little?".

Though he had asked, it was clearly more of a formality than anything else for no sooner had he asked than he had buried his face between her legs; tongue and lips pulsing against her clit audibly. Using one of his hands, he pushed one of her legs up and over his shoulder; pushing the other to the side with his free hand. He audibly groaned as he lapped at her; the tang of her driving him insane. And then there were the sounds... The sounds. He could listen to them all day. He wanted to record them, to listen to them whenever he wished. But for now, all he could do was commit them to memory.

His fingers gripped tightly at the flesh of her thighs, enough to cause small bruises where his fingertips dug in. He sounded like a man starved and acted just as much; bringing her past the point of overstimulation and almost to the point of pain. And only then he would stop, pulling away from her and letting her legs fall limp.

He eased her onto her trembling legs; giving her a moment to hold herself up on the podium. Then, stepping back, he began to undo his vestments, revealing the slight yet toned body beneath. He reached to his belt buckle, an audible click sounding as it opened.

"You knew what I meant this entire time," he'd whisper gently, a trembling hand reaching for the side of her neck. Only then did it become evident that it was not the pleasure that was his undoing, it was her confession on its own. "You..."

There was a pause, two amber eyes peering into her own. He was searching for something, a hitch perhaps, but when he found none he found himself relinquishing his secret entirely. His wings trembled, the intensity of what he felt still visible in him.

I'm right here. I'll always be here.

And then he whispered those sweet words to her and she was all but lost. She laughed softly, kissing the tip of his nose before reaching to cup his cheek in her hand. She looked upon his face, that beautiful face, and traced her thumb across his bottom lip.

"Te amo, Herneval," She whispered softly in return before leaning in to kiss him gently "I will always love you".

As she leaned back, she couldn't help but smile widely, her own eyes beginning to water slightly with tears of her own. Then with a quiet laugh, she held him close again with enough force to send them both tumbling back onto the mattress; the woman lying atop him with her head in the crook of his neck.

Herneval stepped closer then, a single taloned hand reaching for her cheek. He was going to take her flying, but not even he was stupid enough to think an immediate take-off was for the best. "Every bird has done it," he'd tell her, a comforting smile guiding her along. He glanced to the land beyond, marvelling at what little of his world he could see. It was beautiful here, but the most beautiful thing of all stood mere feet from him.

"Close your eyes," he said, "And spread your wings. Imagine yourself playing music, each note flowing through every feather. Notice where everything sits, how energy feels as it flows through you."

He suddenly stepped back, spreading his own wings as wide as they could go. Hers were a far sight prettier, a series of scars and patches of missing feathers missing from his own.

She followed him as he guided her, taloned feet clicking lightly on the floor as she stepped in time with him. She was far steadier now than she had been in the beginning, but held close to him regardless. It was only once he stood away that her usual nervousness began to rise again. She had nodded as he spoke, taking every word he said to heart. It was like playing music... So, it was like second nature. Surely, if she was to take on the physical traits then instinct should play a part also.

As he stretched his wings, the woman couldn't help but marvel at them and the dark auburn and brown tones of his feathers. While he saw scars and patches of missing feathers, she saw beauty she couldn't describe. They matched him, they were just as beautiful as him.

"Okay..." She finally breathed, her feathers having fluffed up marginally in response to his actions before she let out a small breath, closed her eyes and willed her wings to spread. They twitched for a moment, as the woman focused too much on the how instead of doing it. Then, she remembered his words and with another calming breath and the thought of a melody, she did it.

Her lips parted with a start, fingers curling against his neck as she drew him in further. Though reluctant at first, her worries soon subsided, a longing sigh slipping past her lips while her hand began to wander. She could feel his pulse beneath her fingers, the rapid beating of his heart the only sign of excitement she could see.

We haven't even started and you've already started begging.

Were she capable of thought, she might have chanced a retort. The warning came soon after, her body reacting though she fiercely fought against it. Her skin prickled, flushing a bright pink, and with little opportunity to process much at all she could only gasp when she was lifted. Her head was spinning, the room was fading away, the mere notion of being devoured in a place as holy as this nothing short of exhilarating.

The podium was sturdy enough, and as her legs spread when he guided them she found herself clinging to the wood for comfort. Even she was thankful for the absence of the book, a swift glance to the large cross attached to the wall filling her with a sense of shame. That too was exhilarating, and for a brief moment she found herself wondering if she needed to be assessed. Though far from inexperienced, she was learning things anew, and as the fabric of her dress shifted and the man continued to speak she found herself forgetting how to breathe.

"i-"

A failed attempt, she realised, to throw him off her scent. Her hips inched forward, trying to urge him toward the sensitive bundle of nerves she longed for him to tease. It was as though her body possessed a mind of its own, addicting to the sound and feel of him as he teased her with what could be. Worst of all? He was right. Were he observant enough, and she knew he was, he'd spot that.

Her head fell forward, strands of long blonde hair pooling around her shoulders. One hand lifted from the podium, gripping tightly to what garments he still wore. The pressure felt amazing, sparks shooting up her spine as she fought the need to inch forward... seek more of those calloused fingers as they traced where she was most sensitive.

Shame, embarrassment, longing... He could see it all.

Her mind wandered for a moment, guided by the sound of his voice. How she'd imagined exactly this, her own sheets gripped tightly between her fingers. She didn't dare moan, she was far too scared to, a hitched breath forced through gritted teeth as her nails dug further in. Seconds, it had been seconds and she was close to coming undone... And no sooner had his lips met the side of her neck than she had done so, whimpering audibly against his shoulder.

"That's right," He hummed as his fingers circled "Roll your hips for me, just like that...". His lips pursed at her neck, stubble brushing against her racing pulse. He spoke softly, as though hiding his voice from the watchful eye in this hall, but there was no shame; not for him, anyway. He held his breath as she came, wanting to hear nothing else but her whimpering. The way she clung to him, as though he were her saviour; it filled his body with a familiar heat he had been trying so desperately to ignore. Yes, she was in trouble.

And he was going to make sure she enjoyed every second.

"What's this?" He teased, pressing his thumb sternly upon her clit and playing with it "You were such a greedy little slut just a moment ago, you begged me so sweetly to touch you... Don't think you can get away from me just yet".

Reaching up with his free arm, he wrapped it around her waist, pulling her tight against the podium so she couldn't move. His fingers began to circle her entrance, a silent warning of what was to come. Using her slickness, he pushed in one finger first and then the other, suddenly pulsing them with quick precision. His actions were firm but not painful, his thumb tapping upon her clit, matching the pace of his curling fingers. His lips buried themselves against Trish's chest; taking advantage of the low-cut dress she had decided to wear. He nipped and kissed at the skin of her breasts he could reach.

Blinking slowly, he nodded, acknowledging that she wanted him to remain seated and not interrupt her throughout. Worrying was the one thing he'd always do, especially where she was concerned, but he'd allow her the space she needed. He monitored her as if on instinct, memorising the rate at which she breathed and every flinch of flicker of pain. So focused he was that he picked up on the slightest shift, the shifting of her dress as something fought against it along with what few sparks of electricity were conjured to make his feathers stand on end. Thunder rumbled overhead, though he hardly seemed to mind it, adding flare to a chance that startled even the likes of him.

Only once she she stumbled did he stand, a taloned hand wrapping itself around her waist to right her. He stared at her for a moment, eyes almost identical to his own staring back at him. Were she honed enough in this form she might have picked up on the slight increase in his breathing, eyes drifting down the side of her neck before fixating on the wings she bore but to her own admission was very bad at using.

"You must first become it," he whispered against her. "That too will take time."

Stepping back, he'd reach for her hand, inviting her to twirl for him so he could properly take her in. He seemed positively mesmerised, unable to keep himself from smiling in light of being trusted with something so vulnerable.

"Beautiful," he chirped, hands trailing across her cheek. He wished only to comfort her in the moment, sparing a single glance towards the window.

She was happy enough to twirl for him, keeping her wings pinned to her back so that she wouldn't accidentally hit him with them. She was becoming steadier with each passing second, but one could see the uncertainty in each of her steps; as though too aware of these extensions rather than treating them as parts of herself. They felt like her... But at the same time they didn't.

A visible flush coloured her pale cheeks, the little feathers there seemed to suddenly stand on end while her wings rustled in a flustered manner. She glanced away for a moment, looking down to her hands that had remained the same safe for a littering of small black and white feathers and long black nails resembling talons. She looked up once again as he spoke, noting how he looked to the window. The storm outside had began to subside, the clouds breaking and revealing the resting sky of the land of scares.

"Always..." She said softly but with conviction, stepping towards him. Despite her visible nervousness, she took her hand in his and squeezed. If she was going to learn this form, the best way would be to learn from someone who had had it their whole life.

Him.

The thought lingered, as did her words, the cogs turning visibly as what she told him began to register. He'd understood her. She'd spoken in a language she'd taken the time to learn, and that was most overwhelming realisation of all. She'd known this whole time, held each loving whisper close to her heart until now.

He reached for her then, fresh tears rolling from his cheeks as he swallowed harshly against the lump forming in his throat. There was much he wanted to tell her, so much he needed her to know, and with the knowledge of her love for him dissolving him completely the world would come undone.

Moans left him in dozens, audible whimpers littered in between, lips drifting against her skin as he urged her closer. He needed to feel her, hold her, a sense of urgency building within him as a knot began to form. Being touch-starved had never crossed his mind, the need to be loved by her the thing that pleased him most.

He climaxed without warning, wings flexing almost painfully as he spilled into her hand. His hips thrust into her even after, body melding into her own once the pleasure began to subside. Only then would she see him cry, muffled sobs escaping him as he gripped to the sheets for comfort.

She pulled him close, her hand not once stopping in its motions while she littered kisses across his face and lips. She buried his face into her chest, letting the tears grace her skin as he moaned and whimpered; coming undone beneath her touch. She cared little for how tightly he gripped to her, merely taking it as a sign of his impending completion. And no sooner had she thought it, that his wings had flexed and his hips had lifted; a warmth spilling against her hand as she continued to gently stroke him until he was spent.

"Shhhh," She hushed him once relaxed, pulling him close to her chest and gently stroking down the feathers of his arm "You did so well, Herneval". She showered the man in praise, kissing his cheeks and wiping his tears from his eyes. She hummed and kissed his lips sweetly, lingering there for a moment before holding him tightly. She couldn't imagine just how intense everything had been for him then. With more gentle kisses to his face, she whispered to him once again.

Simple, really.

In theory, all she had to do was approach him. Tell him how she felt, find herself utterly humiliated when she inevitably found herself turned down, and then swear herself of men for the next millennium. The perfect three-step process, doctor approved... all she had to do was-

Nope.

She'd watch the sermon from across the street instead, and sip on a warm coffee in the process. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, legs and lungs aching from a pep-talk that led her nowhere. She hadn't moved, despite willing herself to, able only to watch as those attending the service in person began to trickle out. A failed attempt, though she supposed she should take pride in the fact she'd made an attempt at all. She could hear the church windows shutting, the longing she felt for a man that likely had no idea she existed threatening to consume her whole.

"Stupid," she whispered to herself, spinning on her heel as she drew her fingers down the back of her neck. Were there a definition of insanity, she supposed this would literally be it.

"Miss Neilson," she nodded in greeting, the old woman's walker clicking as she crossed the street. She rushed to help her across, the woman thanking her profusely as she did so. Helping her was the least she could do, gave her presence here some sense of purpose. She began to take a few steps toward home soon after, only for her body to betray her before her mind could protest.

Your father would be proud of you.

It had been enough to drive her on, her legs trembling as she forced the parish door open moments before he closed and locked it. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, pausing only long enough for her to catch her breath.

She wasn't doing this. There was no ACTUAL way she was going through with this-

Her lips met his before she had a chance to think it through, not cautious enough to worry about her heart breaking. Only once she'd pulled back did realisation strike, a shaky hand rising to her lips as she gently stumbled backwards.

"I'm so sorry," she began, swallowing against the lump forming in her throat. Two green eyes were fixed on him then, blinking rapidly as she took another step back. "This wasn't how I meant for this to go, I'm so-"

Wait, what?

The first shock came at hearing him curse. In all the time she'd known him, pined for him from afar, she'd never known him to speak out of turn. Her lips parted, another apology forming as if on instinct alone, prepared to be turned down in a manner even more humiliating than before. She wished only to reassure him, tell him that it was fine and that she understood, yet no sooner had she braced for heartbreak than she found herself in territory forged anew.

Trish inhaled sharply, both hands pressed firmly to his chest. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his attire, something she hadn't known could be as attractive as this. There was such intensity in him, a fire the likes of which she'd never seen before. There, in the confines of the small church he'd built for himself in a community he'd grown to love, she was completely at his mercy.

She looked at him then, swallowing against the finger trailing up the front of his neck. Her skin was flushed, far more than it had been when she'd first entered, lips parting with hesitation that was soon whisked from her the deeper the kiss drew. She was reeling, well and truly, eyes drifting from his lips to the very collar he'd managed to undo in a matter of seconds.

"A safe-word?" she echoed back to him, blinking softly as she followed the piece of garment so casually thrust to the side. One could see the cogs turning, her fingers curling into the fabric he wore as the dots began to connect.

You have no idea the can of worms you're opening here...

Her pulse quickened, and she did little to calm it.

"The traffic light system," she breathed, nodding gently. "Green for go, amber for pause, red for..." a pause, almost daring to imagine a world in which the word red would need to be used, "Red for stop."

"Traffic lights..." He mused, a half smile on his lips as he thought about it "Simple and sweet, I like it".

Her hand touched his and he looked down upon her once again, his adam's apple visibly moving as he gulped behind his open collar. As she spoke to him, he could only note how the soft glow of the evening sun caressed her face through the stained glass. How beautiful she looked, how precious... He was going to love ruining her.

"We haven't even started and you're already begging," He teased slightly, hand shifting to cup her chin and urge her to tilt her head up "I should warn you though, even God wouldn't want to witness how I'm about to unravel you".

With this, he forced their lips together once more, his presence was demanding and he wasted little time in lifting her to sit upon the podium edge; a place usually reserved for the holy book itself. Just as well he had already moved it. He took his place between her legs, pushing them apart to hang idly by his waist. Not once had he stopped kissing her, barely even giving her time to breathe between them; pulling away to give her just a grace of a breath before delving in again.

His hand pushed the hem at the front of her skirt, pulling it up and around her thighs; revealing to him a very neatly wrapped prize. Chuckling deeply, he barely touched the fabric with his index finger; adding a teasing pressure.

"Well," He mused as he pulled at the underwear that left very little to the imagination "Didn't you come prepared?... I wonder...". With a movement similar to that of his collar, he removed the underwear, leaving her completely exposed to him. He touched around her core, never quite making contact, his touch feather-light and achingly close but so far. "What would you have done if you hadn't come in today?" He asked, voice deep by her ear "Would you have gone home? Would you have touched yourself, imagining how I might've fucked you?...".

He hummed softly, noting the slickness of her core despite not even touching it yet.

"I haven't even touched you yet and you're practically cumming already," He teased her "So desperate and needy... It would be cruel to keep you waiting any longer".

"Si," said Herneval, his mouth suddenly dry. "Si."

His head turned, leaning into the gentle kiss placed atop his cheek with a series of soft yet audible clicks. He felt weak all of a sudden, unable to stop himself from succumbing completely even with her loving guidance to keep him afloat. She'd always been his anchor, his reason for existing in his world and hers...

He might have thought to stop her then, the stimulation her skin provided as it drifted against his own almost too much for him to handle. The further they drifted the more difficult staying present was for him, talons curling a little too carelessly against the satin sheets beneath him. His breath hitched just as he tore through them, spikes of pleasure tearing through him in waves the moment her fingers made contact.

For a moment, for a single forsaken moment, the spook had forgotten how to breathe.

"Dios-"

The exclamation sounded strained, muffled as he grew light-headed. With it a more prominent whimper, one that might have sounded pathetic to anyone other than her. A feathered hand fell to his lips, though it was of little solace to a man as lost to pleasure as he. His wings twitched, eyes rolling gently as that sensitive nerve was so pointedly caressed.

He was moaning openly now. Writhing.

"It's alright..." She whispered softly "I've got you...".

She couldn't imagine how overwhelming this was for him, to remain grounded when your body was screaming with adrenaline and crying out for release. She spoke to him, reminded him that he was safe and loved. While he lips pressed to the back of his taloned hand, her other hand occupied in his pleasure found a steady rhythm; slow and deliberate. She would pause at times, drawing out the pleasure and taking a moment for the other to recover before teasing that nerve again. The way such a simple motion had him writhing at her touch, was such a beautiful sight.

"You're so beautiful, mi vida," She breathed, kissing his fingers and inviting them to entwine with hers "Don't hold back...".

As she said this, her fingers deftly pressed and caressed at the sensitive shaft of his arousal; thumb trailing along the head and fired up nerve.

"Nn-"

A whimper.

It was all he could offer in response to the sudden pressure from her leg, the mere presence of which made his entire body tremble. He hadn't thought he'd make this far. He hadn't thought there was pleasure to be felt on his end. How wrong he'd been. Only now could he feel how painfully tight his clothing was, and no sooner had it been brought to his attention than he'd found himself flipped onto his back with his beloved firmly atop him.

He was visibly flushed now, a look of both confusion and surprise cast her way in the moment. Every breath he drew was shaky, surprised to find his own back twitching and arching gently against her touch. Able to offer her little more than a gulp, he followed her hands as they moved, the realisation suddenly dawning on him that their roles had been reversed.

"If its too much and you need to stop," She spoke softly to him, leaning in to briefly kiss him "I want you to tell me, okay?". She moved to kiss his cheek, playfully blowing at the feathers on his neck to tickle them before she placed a kiss there. She shifted her weight, lifting herself so she could remove the final constricting piece of clothing from the prince. And when she returned, she kneeled by his side and pressed a kiss to his feathered forehead. "Relax," She whispered to him "I'm right here...".

Her whispered words of love continued as she trailed fine fingers down the length of his chest and stomach; pausing at his navel before continuing ever down. Her fingers parted the thick feathers there; feeling the length of him and drawing her fingers across it. She teased the skin, gently, fleeting touches up and down his length. Carefully, her fingers wrapped around it and her thumb trailed across its head and along its nerve.

He watched her as she watched the storm, one duller than the other in beauty. What brought him comfort now lay comfortably in his arms, his to hold, to honour and to love. He would do all of that and more, the first opportunity in many to show her that he was truly hers to keep. Cooing lowly, he nestled into her hand, lips brushing against the her palm. It was the only place he wasn't reluctant to kiss, nestling his nose against her fingers. Given the chance, he'd have chosen to stay like this for just a moment longer. Not that it mattered, the prospect of being shown something that meant a lot to her far surpassing any need or want he had.

"I-I want to try..." She said as she slowly slipped from Herneval's grasp and took a step towards the centre of the room "For you... But, I'll stop if it's too much, I promise". She wouldn't have much of a choice, she couldn't exactly force a transformation without causing herself serious injury.

But if she was calm.

She looked to Herneval.

If she was comfortable.

She smiled at him, reassuringly, removing her shoes and stockings.

"It might look like I'm in some discomfort," She admitted "But, don't worry... Okay?".

And with this, her eyes fluttered closed and a long breath escaped from her lungs; a heaviness forming in the air like static causing her hair and Herneval's feather's to stand on end for a moment. She let out a small wince, brows furrowing as she reminded herself to breathe through it. The fabric at the back of her dress rustled, as though something was trying to push through. She let out a hiss, her toes slightly curling as the skin there seemed to twist and change; a thick yellow skin not unlike those at Herneval's talons beginning to form.

With a long exhale, the sound of tearing fabric echoed through the chamber and the heaviness in the air suddenly broke with the thrust of large black wings sprouting from Anna's back. She stumbled back slightly, righting herself with a now taloned foot that matched the Spook in front of her. Her wings ruffled and stretched, the woman letting out a sigh as they finally relaxed, flight feathers trailing along the floor.

And when she opened her eyes, the familiar blue had shifted to a sharp orange; like that of a hawk's and small feathers littered her face like freckles. Looking down, she stepped left and right in test, stumbling slightly like a baby bird unsure of how to balance itself. She raised her arms to steady herself, a small and embarrassed laugh escaping her.

Don't-

The words had almost formed, they'd almost managed to slip past him. Yet no sooner had his heart broken than it seemed to heal completely, two amber eyes fixed entirely on her own as her next words hit home. His heart welled, feathers bristling in both happiness and pride. No more beautiful a sight had ever graced his path, that same child-like wonder he hoped to see in her born anew. It was there one moment and yet gone the next, replaced by hope where there previously was none. He'd never known happiness like it.

His head leaned, the tip of his nose shifting to meet the side of her neck in turn. He cared little for how his lips graced the skin beneath her ear, or how they moved gently though he willed them not to. He was crying, tears soaking through his feathers as he drew her close.

"That..." he said, his voice thick. It sounded almost painful, as though it a lump had formed in his throat. "Is all I ever wanted to hear you say..."

Herneval cupped the side of her cheek, pressing his forehead to hers with a shaky sigh. He drank in he sight of her, fingers tracing her cheek as he watched her. There were no words in the human dictionary capable of conveying what he felt, much less what he thought of saying in that moment.

She knew what he said in that moment. But she said nothing of it, allowing him to keep his secret; at least for now. Instead she merely smiled as she placed her forehead to his own, her eyes fluttering closed. In time, he would know; that she felt the same.

She curled back into his chest as he pulled her close, burying her nose into the plumage of feathers at his chest and taking comfort in the way they tickled her skin. She turned to look out of the window, seeing the harsh lightning and roaring thunder; a sight that would frighten many but brought her comfort. The sound of the pattering rain against the window was a rhythm she knew well, it being one of the few sounds that had eased her in her childhood. And now, she could share it with her friend; her world.

Looking up to him then, she raised a hand to gently cup his cheek, brushing away any lingering tears that rest in his eyes. She was silent for a moment, leaning against him and taking in the sight of the storm; the very lightning almost causing her skin to buzz with energy. She glanced to his wings, thought of the softness of his feathers and paused.

She looked so beautiful this undone, and no sooner had her hips began to tear away from him on instinct than he locked them back in place. His grip was firmer, far more primal this time, a thick rumble in warning telling her he wasn't done. He let his tongue delve into her once more, travelling far deeper than it had moments prior, curving upwards at almost the perfect angle. He was relentless, sure to bring her a few more until he was sure she had nothing left to give.

He released her with a start, that same knotted tongue responsible for her pleasure lapping up what pieces of her were left behind. His eyes were glazed, his breathing heavy, soft clicks and chirps conveying how pleased he was to have experienced this with her. His lips travelled as he worked his way back up, worshipping every part of her he could access. Her navel, her stomach, her chest, only to reach her neck before finally capturing her lips almost hungrily between his own. The kiss was deep, obsessive, each exhale warm against her lips.

More chirps, more purrs, followed by him nestling his head into the side of her neck. He nipped and kissed at the skin some more, gently tracing his hands down her arms.

Love.

Gods, she almost felt dizzy.

When he finally released her, her body was visibly shaking as his lips travelled up her body and towards her neck. Her eyes were watering and she whimpered audibly as his eyes met hers. And when his lips met hers, her arms were quick to wrap tightly around his shoulders, pulling him close, her body desperate for comfort from her vulnerable state. She kissed him in kind, though far messier than she had been prior she found she couldn't bring herself to care; she just wanted him close to her. She wanted him to hold her.

She wanted to hold him, in return.

She sighed as he kissed at her neck, the pleased chirps bringing from her a happy hum as she drew her hand up the length of his back once more, pressing between his wings through his clothes. At the same time, she raised a trembling leg and pressed it to his groin. Spent as she was, she wasn't about to let him have all the fun of this night. Oh, no, he didn't get to ignore what he felt.

"Herneval..." She purred, her voice still breathless "It's not fair for you to have all the fun...".

A playful smile was all the Prince could see before she hooked a leg around his own, enough time given for her to regain her strength, flipping him onto his back and straddling him once again. Looking down upon his shocked expression, the witch laughed and trailed a hand up the length of his chest, before trailing it down once again; unhooking each button of his waistcoat and shirt with care.

Ironic, how he would have done anything to take it from her, only for his grip on her to tighten as guilt gnawed at him. There was so much he hadn't known, hadn't been able to see from the small branch he'd been perched on throughout her childhood. He remembered the fear he felt, the want to tear her from her mother's oppressive grasp even when his body wouldn't obey him. He held her now, but he hadn't then, when it had truly mattered most. Perhaps he was as bad as her mother, perhaps it was anger he feared from the woman he'd fallen head over heels in love with. He was her creation after all, and his one job had been to protect her.

Survival.

He wished he hadn't survived at all.

The feathers at the back of his neck bristled gently, a soft breeze rolling through cracks in the window he'd told her he would fix. Another failure, one he dwelled on no longer than a second for what she spoke of mattered far more. She spoke of forms, the horrific things her mother put her through in order for her to obtain them. He'd seen much in his time, been subject to many a twisted an imagination, but not even he could bring himself to conjure forth images as dark and twisted as this. To think that she had caused her daughter this much pain, to think that she could feel anything at all... Both were difficult to believe when the evidence was right in front of him.

"You say you don't know how," Herneval began, a single taloned finger crawling its way up the front of her neck. He wanted her to look at him, truly take in what he was about to say. "I don't know about you, but I think you've made an excellent start."

And yet, there she sat, held tightly by him now, holding onto him as though he were her anchor. Funny, she thought, all this time he had held her and she had yet to taint that beautiful soul. Even now, when she looked upon him, he smiled at her and spoke to her as though she was something precious to behold. The feeling was new to her and yet, oh so familiar. When he held her, it was as though they had never once been apart. Not truly, anyway.

She smiled at him as he spoke, the weight of his words settling in her chest and bringing a warmth she couldn't describe. All this time she had spent running, she hadn't even realised that she had finally stopped; hadn't realised she had started to stand her ground. Their lips were close, she could practically feel his breath upon her face and the temptation rose in her. But something gave her pause. No... At least, not yet.

Leaning back slightly, she turned in his arms so that she could face him, eyes watering just slightly but her smile not once shifting.

"All my life, I pushed away anything or anyone that brought me comfort," She explained "I had no idea how to even begin opening myself up... Until you."

She leaned in then, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace, burying her face into his shoulder. Sniffing softly, she turned her head, her breath barely tickling the side of his face.

With a fleeting glance up, he allowed himself a moment to marvel. Even in this lighting he could tell her skin was flushed, beads of sweat forming as her body begged for release. His wings shuddered at the prospect, a sense of excitement and longing building in his chest. He had been known as many things in his time - a prince, spook, nightmare, but in this moment he felt like a God.

Her eyes shut tightly, her body twitching and shaking as she grew closer and closer to completion, the sound of it finally echoing in a gasp followed by a sharp moan. Her toes curled and her thighs tensed around Herneval's head, squeezing it as her back arched from the bed. And even despite this, the Spook continued like he was possessed, her orgasm drawn out and stealing more moans of pleasure from her.

She could hardly speak, her nails digging into the back of Herneval's neck as she felt his tongue travel. She took a moment to perch herself onto her elbows, watching as he continued despite her sensitivity. Whimpers came from her, the sensitivity from her previous orgasm him bringing with it a sense of vulnerability. And no sooner had she perched herself up that she fell back against the mattress once again; body trembling and completion threatening her once again.