#weeeeeeeeewoooooooooooo

For some reason, her wings are the most sensitive part of her. It’s quite different than Harry because of his thick, coarse wings that beat down on him, wing bones heavy and lacking in comfort. He knows his own wings provide little for his girl. Harry hates tucking in his wings, flaunting the little red streaks that have every few feathers, however she’s the opposite. Her wings are constantly tucked in behind her back, below her neck, hidden under her shirt, one small rip away from exposing themselves to him. 

It’s quite a sight when her wings are extended, but it’s not a common sight. Plus, it’s a sensitive topic, so he doesn’t bring it up a lot. 

Until one day he can’t take it anymore. He can’t take how breathtaking she looks coming out of the bathroom with her hair still wet and dripping, walking on her heels to make sure her toes didn’t touch the cold floor. It’s frustrating, really, how little she lets him do to her, caught up in her own little world, not catching his lustful eyes that are watching her every movement. 

“Love,” he says in a strangled sort of voice. “‘S my shirt, innit?”

She looks at him and send him a sweet smile that melts away his frozen heart. “Yeah, I didn’t really pack for an overnight stay. So I stole one from your closet. Haven’t really got bottoms either so, uh, I guess it’s just my underwear for the night.”

“Stealing now, huh?” he scoffs playfully, smirking. “Reckon I’m not a good influence on you.”

He’s on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, letting his eyes wander over her body. His legs are slightly open and if she takes a closer look at him, she’ll notice how excited he’s becoming, listening to her shower and watching her slip out of the bathroom looking so clean and easy to ruin. Her own wings give a little twitch. 

“You don’t mind though,” she reminds him gently, sweeping her hair to one side, letting it dangle over her shoulder. The ends of her tendrils drip a few times until there’s a wet spot right beneath her breast, and Harry nearly lets out a growl at the sight. “Do you?”

“Of course not, baby,” he grits out, pushing himself off his arms, patting his thighs gently. “C’mere.”

She makes her way over to him, pushing her hair behind her ear as she sits herself down, letting him wrap his arms around her waist, looking up at her with so much love in his eyes, it’s radiating off of him. She feels the magnetic heat that’s flying off of his skin and touching hers so gently and cautiously as if she’s going to break.

Her fingers gingerly trace over the creases on his forehead, a frown on her own face. “You’re stressed.”

“You make me stressed,” he confirms, scrunching his nose cutely when she looks at him with a surprised expression. 

“I do not!”

“You do,” he insists, touching the buttons of his black button that adorned her torso, unbuttoning the bottom two. “Always looking so cute, so mouthwatering. S’hard being around you and not getting a taste.” He gives her a once over. “Really stresses me out.”

“That’s not true,” she argues quietly, cheeks slightly pink, looping her arms around his neck. “You’re just saying that to get me riled up. You do it all the time.”

“Because it works,” he replies cockily, pressing a sweet kiss to her mouth. 

She whines lowly and leans in for a firmer kiss, locking her lips with his, eyes fluttering shut. He tilts his head to get a better angle, letting her presence take over all his senses. His hands run up the length of her back, wary of her feathers, but he’s so tempted to delve his fingers into them. They’re so close to him, her scent is driving him wild, as if she’s used twice the amount of her strawberry body wash tonight, and suddenly it’s impossible to breathe around her. 

His lungs are aching for a break, but her small hand has trailed down to tuck itself under his jaw, releasing him for a brief second before she’s on him again, feverishly kissing him. 

His fingers inch towards her shoulder blade where the top of her wings are peeking out, and it only takes one caress of a single strand from her wings for her to push him back and scramble away, flying backwards until her back hits the wall. 

“Harry!” she scolds, breathing heavily, one hand on her stomach. “Don’t do that.”

He can’t take it. She’s gone from his grasp and he feels like a teenage boy yearning for some kind of peek or a touch of her soft skin. He extends his own wings and flies over to where she’s catching her breath. Her milky white wings twitch and slowly droop down, shyly drawing back into her body, but Harry’s not having any of it. He places his hands on either side of the wall and leans in, pressing his mouth to hers again. 

“Harry please,” she whispers weakly against his insatiable lips, grasping the front of his shirt, balling it up into her fist. “They’re too sensitive.”

“Feels good though, doesn’t it?” he mumbles back, dragging his lips across her neck, dipping his head and swiping tongue over her skin seductively. “Why run from it if it feels good?”

“S’embarrassing!” she moans out, clawing at his abs from over his shirt. “Yours aren’t like that.”

He ignores her. “So soft, aren’t they? Especially the inner feathers, can tell they’re a real treat. No damages, always hidden away. Shame really, you don’t let anyone see them.”

“You’ve seen them before,” she says, arching her back. Her hips are raising off of the wall, trying to get some sort of relief from the him, the fire between her legs increasing with every word he speaks. “Please, H.”

“I’ve seen them. Haven’t let me touch them though.” He raises his head, and looks at her, grasping her chin so she maintains eye contact with him, breath stuttering. There’s black around the edges of his pretty forest green eyes, jaw clenched, lips swollen and slick with his spit. “Let me,” he whispers, dragging a finger down her jaw. “Make you feel real good.”

He presses a knee against the wall between her legs, and gently unbuttons the rest of the buttons of the shirt hiding her away from him. As suspected, she’s not wearing a bra, and the material falls away, leaving her in only her pretty panties. He has to take a second and remember to breathe when he sees her, hair messily covering her breasts, wings peeking out from behind her. “Shit,” he swears. He prods her tummy with an index finger and she laughs quietly, pushing it away.

He pushes her hair back, peppering kisses all over her torso, inhaling her scent. She’s muttering his name softly, grinding herself right above his knee he’s still got wedged against the wall, tilting her head so he’s able to reach her neck. Her eyes have shut, so he takes advantage and runs his fingers over the tips of her wings. 

They jerk away momentarily before returning back, fluttering between his digits. Her wings are even softer than he’d imagined and he wants to hold them in his hand, but doesn’t want to startle her. The closer he gets to her wing bone, the more she squirms, latching onto his shirt again, biting her lip. The sight is so hot, he doesn’t know how much he can take before he spills in his jeans. 

“Good?” he whispers as he strokes the inner feathers, causing a high pitched moan to fall from her lips. She grows red again, but he kisses her cheek and mumbles, “It’s alright. You’re okay.”

Her wings spasm once more before they fully extend out, curling around his fingers lovingly. She takes a deep breath, opening her eyes, staring up at him with her lips parted. His brows are furrowed in concentration, amazement written all over his face. 

“So pretty,” he tells her quietly, shaking his head, eyes wandering all over her wings. He pets them carefully, almost letting out an amused laugh when the strands curl against his fingers again. “You’re so pretty. How did I get you?”

Y/N lets out a purr that has Harry glancing down at her cautiously, a deep rumble from her chest. The noise goes straight to his dick. His lips stretch out into a smile, running the tip of his nose across her cheek. “Feels real good huh?”

She nods, eyes glazed over with need. “Yes.”

“So good that I’ve got you riding m’thigh without me having to beg you to.”

Her wings give a little shudder as they both glance down at the point of their immediate contact. “Harry,” she moans, resting her head on his. “Need more.”

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles, releasing her wings, steadying her before stepping away, giving himself a palm through his jeans. She whines. “None of that,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Come back, H. You can’t just do that.”