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She sat there, gently playing with the curls in his hair as he slept peacefully on her lap. His face looked perfect to her, every curve and indentation visible from this angle. She couldn't help but feel the urge to pull his ears or bite his lip, but she resisted, not wanting to disturb his sleep... for now at least. He turned and nuzzled his cheek against her thigh. It was sometimes nice like this, but she could feel her nerves becoming restless. He could stay asleep for hours while she waited, doing mundane things like playing with his hair now or tending to his feathers. Often, she would find herself bored in these moments, wanting to pull her feathers out and scream. But she kept quiet and patient, thinking of her other half resting so safely in her lap.
The dusk had finally set and the warmth that was with the sun was gone. He would wake soon and complain that he had missed the sunset, again. He loved how the sunset reflected off his feathers and would keep that tiny mirror out while he groomed. Sometimes she was jealous of how often he looked at it but then he would look at her, making the insects in her stomach chitter. She felt a shift and grumble as he slowly sat up and stretched out like one of those city cats wasting their days away. The sleep was still heavy on his face.
"Ah... it's sundown already?" He was oblivious to the amount of time that had passed here.
She gives a nonverbal response and stands, brushing off her feathers and facing him. He looked radiant, even in the dark sky. And that stupid face, smiling at her, cheery no matter the occasion. She reaches and pinches one of his cheeks and he giggles like a human child. He is quick to be by her side, hands already on her waist as he nuzzles at her cheek. She can't help but smile. He always had that effect. She craved more of this attention but decided it best to not yet indulge.
"Come on. It's time to move."
He lets out a dramatic groan before he lets go. With a curt bow, he waits for her to take the lead, guiding them onward to wherever she so pleased. She liked that about him. Always at her beck and call, always looking to her for the praise she seldom gives. She should change that.
It takes her all of their walk to the next forest before she speaks up.
"You look... bright." She says this, looking him in the eyes, watching as they take a moment to light up as he understands that she is complimenting him. He scoops her up in his arms and presses his head to hers, eyes closed and bathing in this moment. She lets him have it. She lets him hold her close and his hands never wander from her lower back as he holds her up, she wraps her legs around his waist and holds his shoulders as he takes a long time keeping her close. As per usual. But she lets this last, taking in his scent, letting her own eyes close and her hands drifting to his middle back.
This is nice, she finally thinks. All their time together and finally she feels ok with this. Really, ok with this.
"I want to tear you apart, make your ears bleed like the last time." She slips and lets her thoughts out before she can stop herself, and before she can detach herself from him, he kisses her. His gentle, gentle kisses.
But… it’s never enough for her. She craves more, more touch, more of these kisses, more lust than she cares to admit to him. But she knows he can tell, knows he watches her when she isn’t looking, and can tell her moods better than anyone else who dared get close. That’s why it’s no surprise when his kisses turn more than gentle, more her style, with nips and bites before she tries to devour his face.
He would have bruises come the next dawn.
He has to set her down, detaching her like a feral kitten, to stop and assess his face in his mirror. Damn that insipid thing.
He looks satisfied though and sits on the ground, cross-legged and looking up like a damn puppy. She really can’t take much more of that grin, or that damned mirror. So, she stomps over, removes the mirror from his person, and slides it away, before pushing him down to the ground and straddling his waist as he looks over at the discarded object.
“Hey, no-”
“Shush.” Her hand covers his mouth before her thumb plays with his bottom lip, he opens up, and she’s pulling one side of his mouth open to see and feel his teeth.
His eyes are hooded as she does this, her one favorite activity before they go on with anything is examining the molars and sharp fangs, they both possess, his flatter in comparison to hers. And he keeps swiping his tongue at her thumb before she removes it and bends over to kiss him again, hungrily. Her claws dig in as well as her teeth before she moves onto his shoulder to bite and mark him. He’s whining as she does so, and she drinks it in. All of his sounds are alluring, that charmer. She releases him and sees a nice red imprint on his flesh, blood prickling the teeth marks and she’s satisfied with it. And the way he looks drunk from it is another bonus. His hands are planted on her thighs, keeping them there unless otherwise told to move them, like the good dog he is. It makes those insects chitter louder in her stomach and she grabs his hands, guiding them to her waist as she goes in for another kiss.
When the dawn comes, Rakan is out cold, curled up in both of their feathers and snoring peacefully. Some of his are a bit out of sorts so she makes the effort to preen him while he is napping. As she flattens them, she can see the marks littering his neck and chest and makes a mental note to lend him more feathers to cover them. She knows he won’t heal them automatically, but that also boosts her ego. Marking him as hers.
She lets him rest for a while longer before quietly shoving his shoulder to wake him. He’s sore, she can tell by how he carefully lifts himself and gives that lazy sleepy grin. He doesn’t say anything, his voice probably gone, and tries to stand. She stops him, of course, and makes him sit while she gathers food. She can hear him trying to sing behind her as she rolls her eyes and forages for the poor thing. He deserves it after all.
When she returns, she sees that he is upright and waiting.
She feeds him of course while he lounges and talks about sweet red things. This is ok. She lets him ramble about shoes and other human materials she doesn't care for. Because it makes him happy, and that makes her happy. As he continues, he shifts to where his head is in her lap again and she is playing with his curls yet again. They're soft as always, sickeningly so, just like her and the bugs in her stomach. She wouldn't trade this for anything.