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Falcon was truly content for the first time in a long time. Content, despite the taboo nature of this relationship that he and Mark shared. But he found, despite it all, he was content. And he was happy.
And here, with the man of his dreams; the love of his life, wrapped in his arms, the younger man’s head on his chest as they watched some movie that Mark had put on. He was content, he was happy.
Mark turned, beak nuzzling into his neck to pepper kisses to the tuff of feathers that had been freed from the confines of his shirt. Falcon let out a soft moan, his hand wrapping around Mark’s hip to pull him closer to him. The older man pushed forward and felt himself completely cover Mark's body with his as he laid him down on the plush couch. A couch, he mused, that no doubt cost more money than his salary when he was working at his uncle's mechanic shop.
He loved the feel of his love against him. His nerves set ablaze at every millimeter of contact between them. Falcon wanted nothing more than to make this moment last forever, but knew that was not possible.
They lay there, limbs entwined, basking in each other’s closeness, slowly pushing back up against one another, eyes locked together. Mark’s hand pulled away from Falcon’s hip and reached up, pulling his head down, mouths meeting him halfway. It took only moments for their tongues to meet again, and soon their hands were clawing through the dark brown feathers of his chest.
Mark pulled away, eyes closed as he pressed their foreheads together. "I love you so much, Falcon,” Mark whispered, breath heavy against his lips.
Falcon smiled, content, "I love you, too, Mark." He replied, bringing their beaks together once more in another kiss.
And another.
And another.