Work Text:
Everything about Adam was soft. Ronan was harsh lines and sharp corners, but Adam was snow falling at midnight, a well-worn sweater, a whisper.
Even his wings were softer. No matter how much he fluffed and preened Ronan’s wings always had jagged edges, but Adam’s were like velvet.
How long had he wanted to touch them? And now that he could…
“You don’t have to spend every moment grooming me,” Adam said.
Ronan smirked, pushed his fingers into the soft, downy feathers where wing met back, massaging the muscle there. “But you like it.”
Adam shivered, bowed his head. “Yeah.”