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"J-ohnnn…"
He pants beneath you, spine arching, those clawed hands dragging at your back. Your shirt is barely helping to shield your skin, and you can feel the scratches forming.
You can't really be bothered to care, though.
Because one glance down shows you that he's already hard and leaking, and his tail is winding desperately around your wrist. Stilling your fingers where they're petting the soft down at the base of his neck, you spare a moment to give him what would be an exasperated look, if you weren't grinning through it.
Reaching behind him with your other hand, made easy by the fact that you're both hovering in midair, you dig into the muscles of his back, stroking around the feathers at his shoulderblades. He chirps and writhes, tail spasming, and now it's not trying to move your hand so much as trying to hold on.
He lets you nudge his chin up with your nose, and your glasses bump his jaw as you bend your head to lick along the strong line of his neck. You can feel it when he trills in his throat, and you bite at the damp skin while he shivers. One of his hands cards into your hair, keeping you there, the other reaching between you.
You know exactly where he's headed.
It takes only a second for you to stop his path, your own fingers clutching his wrist so it can't descend, and he jerks in your grasp.
"Fucking… Come on…" It would be a growl if it weren't so needy, so breathy, and if it didn't end in a soft peep when you bit down on the skin in your mouth.
You map the distance toward his cock yourself, and you dance one finger up it, pressing into the slit at the top briefly before drawing your finger between your lips.
It's not Dave's fault he tastes sweet, but you're not about to stop taking advantage of that, either.
He peeps and bucks again, shaft bobbing, and you think you can actually hear his heart speed up when you put your finger right back where it was. This time, it descends on the other side, down the bottom side of his dick, and his trilling gets louder the lower you go. When you're paused at the base of it, he's near panting, orange eyes half-lidded.
"Please. John, please. Do it."
You giggle softly, and he really does growl then.
"Goddamn it, I hate when you do this, bro. It's not--" He cuts off with a surprised caw, body bowing and hands scrabbling at you, squirming until your finger is inside as far as it will go, and then he just shivers and makes soft chirping sounds.
"Does it feel good, Dave?"
You know you don't really need to ask, but there's something about the way his nose scrunches up before he answers that's adorable. You can't help it.
"Like you wouldn't believe." His reply is airy, and it catches at the end when you crook your finger inside of him.
All it takes is the flick of your tongue along your bottom lip before his mouth runs away with him, and he's arching and thrusting and outright begging you. You'll never get tired of this. The way this Dave is so much more open with what he wants, what he needs, how he feels. Especially with you. Like he knows that it could all disappear in an instant, and he wants you to never doubt a thing. It's…really sweet, actually.
Speaking of…
He's still murmuring quietly, eyes fixed on your mouth even as he pushes and grinds against your hand, and they follow you while you float down the length of him, his voice getting more eager with each passing moment, eyes growing wider.
When you suck the head of his cock into your mouth, he coos, eyelashes fluttering.
You think that he looks prettier than anyone you've ever seen.
You spend a brief amount of time like that, running your tongue along the slit and pressing against the tiny opening just to hear him moan, and then you pull away, making sure he's watching the wet mess you're making.
His eyes are excited, dark with heat, and when you pull your finger free to suck it into your mouth instead, he closes his eyes at the sight.
"Dave, I'm not gonna go down on you if you're not even watching!"
You draw out his name so that he shivers, and he blinks his eyes open again. Satisfied, you bring both hands down and press in with two fingers, one from each hand. He's panting and rocking his hips, and when you work at him gently, his head drops back and he keens, opening for you. His cock twitches, sending a tiny bead of yellow trailing down the side, and you'd stretch to lick it up were it not for what else awaits you.
The skin is soft and warm, and you've teased him so often about tasting like a creamsicle that the joke has lost its shine, but that doesn't change the fact that he really does taste good, if not exactly like a creamsicle.
When you flick your tongue against him, he warbles, and you can feel the muscles beneath your hands tremble.
You can't want to be inside him.
But right now, you're a little busy licking in between your fingers, yellow fluid painting your lips because you really can't get enough of him.
Dave isn't complaining. He's trying to watch. He really is. But his eyelashes keep fluttering, and you suppose that the tail wrapped around your leg is proof enough that he's paying attention.
When he starts making high little chirping noises amidst the moaning, you know you're doing well. You know he's getting close. You pull one finger free so you can use that hand to rub at the base of his cock before wrapping tightly around it, and Dave whimpers, bucking against you. His fingers are in your hair, but he isn't pushing so much as hanging on, claws curled so they don't dig into your skin. You can feel him pulsing underneath your fingertips, and you press a brief kiss to his opening before delving inside, tongue thrusting and stroking the way he likes it.
"Don't…don't…oh, god…John…don't you d--hnn…"
You haven't told him how much his orgasmic cries sound like caws. You think it would make him even more self-conscious, and that would suck.
You've got a little time to think about things like this because Dave is whimpering and shivering, cock still hard from the way you've held off his release, but here…
…here he's wet and eager for more.
His head is probably still spinning by the time you get to work on your pants, but he manages to help you out with hands and tail, pulling you to him as fast as he can. He lets you kiss him -- tugs you into it, actually -- and so you can feel his coos when you rub up against him, your dick sliding through yellow and feathers while you grind together. Your hands slip a bit against his skin, sweat-slick at his sides, but he doesn't object at all when you grip a little tighter. Instead, his tail slides up your leg, the tip teasing into the back of your pants, and when you pull away from his mouth, his eyes are half-lidded, his lips curling in the best smirk he can manage, right now.
"So…do I have to come and get it myself, or what?"
He is way too coherent.
And so you press slowly into him, thoroughly enjoying the way his jaw drops and the way his wings flutter helplessly.
When you can't go any further, you drop a kiss to one collarbone.
"Naw. I'm not that mean, Dave!"
Okay, so maybe you don't sound as smooth as all that, what with being buried inside Dave like you are, but no one can blame you. He's clenching and smooth and wonderful around you, and you can't hold off for more than a few seconds before rocking your hips.
He, apparently, does not mind at all.
With a low trill, he curls and grips at you, claws scratching lightly against your scalp, across your shoulders, down your back, and in turn, you dig your fingers into the base of his wings as an anchor.
Those orange wings flutter and shake, and Dave rolls against you, undulating in a way that should be illegal. His tongue flicks against his lips, mimicked by the movement of his tail on your skin, and that is a thing you can't resist. He chirps into your mouth, and it makes you smile.
Dave's already come once, and you won't last long. You hope he'll be up for going again, though, since you can't seem to get enough of him.
His tail slithers lower, works its way underneath your boxers, and you whine softly. Dave hums in approval and pushes harder, deeper, and you're a panting mess soon enough -- not that you weren't already.
"Do you want it?"
Fuck, no one should be allowed sound that sultry when you're fucking them. It's downright unfair, and you make a note to try to remember to tell him that later, but for now, you settle for some unglorified squeaking and bucking. That makes his breath catch in his chest, which makes you feel kind of like you got some retribution.
For Dave being sexy.
Maybe you're not making the greatest amount of sense, right now.
Dave snorts like he can tell that you're thinking something stupid, and he doesn't ask again before pressing the tip of his tail into your ass.
You keen.
Dave warbles out a half-moan, eyes closing and arms pulling you against him, like you have any distance between the two of you in the first place.
"Love that noise. Fuck, John. Fill me up, already."
That's definitely not allowed. Totally, totally not. Because Dave's voice does things to you that are a little embarrassing, and he knows it, and when he says things like that, well…
…then again, it was pretty much an order.
And Dave doesn't mind at all when you comply. Rather the opposite. He cuddles you close and chirps, wrapped around you like you're all his, and lets out this full-body shiver before settling down again, nearly vibrating with contentment, if that's a thing that is possible. Said vibrations slowly turn into rhythmic grinding as he comes between the two of you, and you're infinitely glad you already figured out a way to get orange jizz out of fabric.
Your hood is dragging on the ground, now, as you both apparently are no longer devoting quite as much awareness into keeping yourselves aloft.
At least you've stopped generating those spontaneous tornadoes. They'd been a little difficult to explain, and you're still not sure that Jade really believes that you hiccuped and lost control for a moment.
Speaking of...
"So, how long do you think it'll be before Jade realizes we're not actually playing hide and seek?"
"Hate to break it to you, but even with the reduced wall-banging, there's no way her super furry hearing didn't pick up all that."
"You mean all the chirping?"
"Shut up, John."
You giggle and pet him for a while, smooth skin and soft feathers under your fingertips, and you consider it a definite victory that Dave doesn't even try to stifle his cooing. He shifts against you, flexible body rubbing and twisting, breath hot and sticky where his head's resting on your shoulder.
When he begins to shudder again on one languid stroke down his side, you grin.
"…so…one more round?"
"Fuck, yes."