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Beneath Kris is a bird stuck in a cage of their hands, trembling. He's so pretty like this.
"Kri-i-is," His voice is music to their ears, the way it's straining to be heard, "Oh, Angel, ohhh.."
They've broken him, but only a little. Berdly is rather gracelessly spreadeagled on their couch, with them between his thighs and smiling. His glasses have been knocked askew earlier, when they've kissed him senseless; his breath is still a little shallow. Underneath him is a puddle of slick which is steadily soaking into the cushions. Mom isn't home, their soul is locked upstairs. No one will know what happens here, not for a good long while yet.
"Are you okay? I could go for another," Kris clicks their tongue and reigns themself in. They're not entirely sure if it's working, "In a second."
"H-h-how many seconds do you think I have in me, o-oh humble and benevolent trickster..?" Berdly tries for a joke and lands somewhere in the land of choked up. His blush is visible even through the blue feathers. It's cute, "...Surely, I'm already spent?"
"I bet you have more than enough seconds for me," Kris smirks. They're being an asshole, but only because Berdly is too easy to tease, "You've been so good. Just two more, yeah?"
"Two more?!" Berdly shrills, shivering from head to toe, "Kris, you do realise how absurd that sounds? I don’t know- I don’t think-"
"Hmm? Is Lord Berdly saying he can't do something?" Their smirk sprawls into a grin. Red eyes twinkle with amusement, "I never thought you'd back away from a challenge."
"I-I know what you're doing!!" The bluebird practically squeals, "Stop trying to reverse-psychology me!!"
"And yet you're still wet," Gingerly, Kris swipes their thumb across Berdly's cunt. That shuts him up good, cutting off whatever he was going to say next with a strangled out whimper. He's rather sensitive, probably from the two orgasms Kris has already wrung out of him, "If you tell me to stop right now, then we could go and play Minecrap or something. Your choice."
"You are ridiculous," Berdly grunts, "Stop looking at me like that!"
"Like what?" They bat their eyelashes, looking nothing but guilty. Their thumb hasn't left it's place yet.
"L-like," Swallow, "You want to eat me again."
"I do, though." The humans snickers.
"And stop saying such embarrassing things with a straight face!" Berdly shrieks, still pretending that he can leave this interaction with any dignity intact. Obviously, he's completely wrong, considering the sheer size of the puddle between his legs. So, they retaliate.
"Don’t shout," Kris reprimands, slapping the bird abruptly on the thigh. He squeaks, "Do you want the neighbours to hear us?"
"N-no!.."
"Then keep your voice down," The human says simply, massaging the sting out of Berdly's feathers. They're not that cruel, "Unless you do want them to hear us, in which case, shout all you want. I quite like the noises."
"Ughhhhh," The whine roughly translates to "You're annoying" in bird-speak, "You know what, Kris? Sure! Go for it. I won't even make a sound!"
"Really?" Their thumb rubs up against Berdly's clit again. His beak snaps shut, "Wanna bet?"
"Y-yes..?" His voice sounds unsure all of a sudden. Berdly's left wing creeps up towards his neck, where multiple hickeys bloom between the plumage. Damn, is he actually starting to realize his position in all this? They're going to ruin him again.
And they do.
Their mouth slots right back where it belongs, licking, kissing, slurping. Almost immediately, Berdly's hips wrap around Kris's head, as if an electric current is coursing through every cell of his body. He's a live wire: taut and twisting, his expression contorted with defiance and desperation both. But he doesn't fight their tongue's intrusion, and this thought warms them somewhere where people should have souls.
Berdly writhes, biting down every moan, and his right wing comes down to hold them by the hair. It's not too gentle, and yet it stays in place, not forcing them to move, simply holding them. They steal his breath with each lick, lapping at his arousal with a manic kind of lust, the kind that makes them want to dive deeper within.
Kris’s index finger joins the tongue on the outskirts, and Berdly's eyes roll back.
"Kri-is!" The bluebird chirps their name as if it cursed him, which means they win, "Ah, ah, I can't-"
"You can," They break away from their task, that’s how certain they are. Their finger dips inside, just a bit, "You're capable of more than you think."
"Nggh," Berdly melts into the couch, defeated again. His legs fall farther apart, "Please, p-please put your mouth back..."
Kris wants to laugh, but they oblige instead. Berdly's cunt clenches and spasms around their mouth, desperation finally winning whatever war was going on in Berdly's head. He ruts against their face, chanting their name as if it's the last word he cares to spell. K-R-I-S. Four letters, one syllable. They're the only person who's allowed to witness this.
Their bluebird is a wretched thing, one that needs to be put in his place. They thank the Angel for being able to open him up, to look at his insides and feast with abandon. Kris's tongue is sin, circling Berdly's clit clockwise, counter-clockwise, then clockwise again in an unbreaking pattern.
Their fingers, and there's two of them now, slide inside easily due to the ridiculous amount of lubrication. They drag through his sensitive walls with deadly precision, curling and searching and crawling deeper. They're the only thing left in Berdly's mind, the only thing that will stay there for weeks, months, years.
They make him sob, breaking off his chant and replacing it with a litany of whimpers. His voice is laced with a touch of hysteria, overloaded with input. Their bluebird is maddening, and he's exactly what Kris needs. They know which buttons to push, what gets a moan and what gets a cry, what lets them govern Berdly's body as well as his brain.
It's a game of control - one that Kris is not going to lose.
"Kris!" Small shocks travel up their bluebird's spine, tingling, "I need to- Can I please, p-please, please- Mmh!"
Coming up for air is tough when they're already addicted, "Please, what?"
"Can I please come?"
"Yes."
They put their mouth back and Berdly screams. No coherence is left, being swallowed whole into concupiscence. He pulses around their fingers, tightening, squeezing, throbbing. It's too much. It's not enough. There are tears running down his face and Kris can't help themself as they rise from their knees for a kiss.
He meets them halfway, sucking them in, tasting what is undoubtably himself. They make out on Kris's couch and it's poetry in motion, sickeningly sweet and torturously delicious. Kris's member strains against their pants, but they ignore it. This is everything they need, all wrapped up in a little bow.
A birdcage of hands clasps around Berdly's waist, mashing lips against beak without a care in the world. His glasses finally fall to the side and they kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss. Nothing in the world matters but this.
"I love you so much," Kris sighs into the kiss, hopeful, "...One more?"
Berdly doesn't protest as their thigh slots itself between his legs, doesn't object as their teeth find a feather on his chest, doesn't retort as their hand snakes around his neck. He simply sags down into the couch, putting all of himself on display. The sight is obscene.
Good.