[Dave yawned and stretched, feeling the delicate muscles in his wings pushing them open and shut again as he cracked his neck. He's felt uncomfortable in his own skin lately, with down growing in itchy tufts under his arms, around his ears, on his collar, between his legs... And everything feels sore all the time, and his joints ache and growing pain fucking sucks. At least he'll be able to fly properly soon. That was the only reason for a bird to look forward to their teen years-- their stunted, flailing attempts at getting airborne would be properly successful after their wings expanded to full size and their adult feathers came in.]
[The weirdest part, though, is the swelling and tension in his cloaca. Half the time it itches, the other half it's... well, he doesn't really know what to call it. Dirk says it's normal, but it's still enough to make Dave's tail feathers twitch compulsively. It's not like he can just reach down there and scratch, and rubbing against things makes him feel... weird.]
[He's feeling tense downstairs again as he walks down the hallway from the bathroom. He'd left John in the latter's living room, movie still playing because, well, fuck it if Dave cares about Nic Cage. And he's seen this movie. Twice.]
Hey, honey bunch, you miss me?
[He stays expressionless as he stands between John and the TV, then takes two steps forward and slings a leg over his friend's hips, pressing their groins together. It's a joke, albeit a gutsy one that he's careful about not making too often, but it takes him off guard when his cloaca abruptly throbs, and oh. He chirps quietly in the back of his throat, a part of him that can only make bird noises. That was unexpected, and the joke and the movie are both forgotten.]
[John is totally engrossed with the movie. Nic Cage is the bamf, it is him, and John is so involved that he almost forgot Dave got up earlier until his friend obstructs his view. His ears, once perked and leaning forward, now relax as he looks up at Dave. Man, he will never get over those wings. So cool. But also very blocking.]
[He's caught off guard by Dave advancing, still shocked from no more movie and the warmth now suddenly on his lap.]
Huh? Oh, yeah, totally, sweetpeeps.
[John's body jolts when their groins meet, and he will swear he heard a chirp, that was a chirp, right? A bird noise? A noise that only Dave could make that he's never heard Dave make? And their crotches are all up on each other, and the jolt's startled whatever it is inside him that makes his lower bits swirl and tingle. His mind starts to accelerate a bit, and the focused attention he had on the movie has now all but scattered. Oh no. This is what always happens before he gets the weird not-so-soft dick thing going on that he gets confused by.]
[Dave doesn't even have the brain power to process that Sweet Peeps comment, because he's too busy trying to figure out what's happening. John is making noises that are probably words, but the human part of Dave's brain has turned off, leaving him with the part of him which is a bird which knows there is a potential mate pressed up against his delicates and it is time to sing the most beautiful duet. He presses down against John's pubic bone, seeking something against the strange opening between his legs he's never quite understood the purpose of. It feels wonderful, so wonderful, he wants more more more.]
[He's duly aware that he's emoting right now, in a very avian fashion. Striders don't do the bird song thing, but Dave can feel it in his throat, and he's never heard this song before. Nobody's ever set this as their ringtone or played it in their headphones around him, it's new.]
[And he's singing it to John. Come on, human brain, wake up wake up wake up, english would be nice right now...]
[Dave's singing is beautiful, and it provides a sweet kind of background music to their movie scene. The singing isn't quite Dave's voice, but that's how birds work, John guesses. It's pretty, it's very pretty, and though John isn't aware of the significance of it, he feels like it's special. His hips rock upwards, rubbing back against Dave's pressing, and as he starts to anti-soften his pelvis steadies into an accelerating rhythm.]
[He holds onto Dave's hips as his own start to speed up. It's practically out of his control at this point, and he's very concerned that the only way Dave's not going to get bucked off is if he grips him tight, pulling him down, holding him firm against his hardening dick. It's not the fastest he could go, but with the human hormones still having some work to do before letting the rabbit ones override, it's steady but stupidly varying from slow-paced to fast to medium to fast again and back to slow. His muscles haven't developed for this, and this is also so pleasurably strange.]
[He doesn't know when his eyes shut, but they do and his head falls back against the couch. His jaw relaxes and he starts to breathe through his mouth, the puffs of breath mimicking his thrusts.]
[Dave doesn't really know what's happening, but he's presently having a lot of trouble stringing thoughts together to try to figure it out. Some distant part of him can feel his boxers growing damp at a rate that can't possibly just be sweat, but god, god all the muscles in his stomach are clenching and unclenching and everything feels warm and tingly and he's never let it get this far when it's happened before. John is helping, and it feels like he's breaking into bits and being healed all at the same time. Not even Jade running her fingernails down his back when down was filling in between his wings and everything had been a clusterfuck of itching had felt anywhere near this good.]
[John's head goes back and something in Dave's brain tells him that it would be a wonderful idea to bury his face in his friend's neck and hold on tight to the front of his shirt. So he does just that, no longer trying to stop the singing, which does seem oddly fitting now that he's not trying too hard to think about it. Oddly, the song seems to be getting more complex as he completely loses his mind.]
[And he's no longer trying frantically to get something solid to rub against, because suddenly John's pubic bone isn't the only hard thing in the area. The bulge in his friend's pants catches on the indent in Dave's that is his opening, and the song skips a beat. He can feel his throat still trying to sing, but he's having trouble breathing and the whole thing dissolves into frantic little peeps as he rubs himself furiously against John's erection.]
[He rubs and rolls and soon his legs are working together with the rest of his body to match Dave's peeps, meeting them peep for full-body, off-the-couch thrusts most of the time. Erratic movements stop abruptly and John has a pace going fast, god how is it not too fast, and he tries to keep up with the peeping because that is the only thing his mind can latch onto, now. He breathes through his mouth and whimpers from the back of his throat, desperation echoing and banging all around his muddled, dazed consciousness. His voice is too gentle for grunts and growls, he's overwhelmed by pleasure and losing his mind to it is just so easy.]
[John is only a little aware at the awful angle his body has curved into, now. His back is pressed into the couch, mostly at the shoulders, while his feet stay planted on the floor and his hips have risen above the cushions to rut against Dave. His body is going to be sore later from all the muscle uses he's never even considered to be possible, but now the adrenaline and hormones and invigorating pleasure are fueling him and it's making anything possible to reach the end. He hasn't a clue how this is going to end, what he should be expecting when the coils in his stomach spring apart, when holding Dave down against his crotch by a firm, desperate grip on his thighs is the only thing in his comprehensive timeline.]
[He cries out briefly, almost softly, into the open air before he starts to put his face in the crook of Dave's neck, making sporadic sounds into him. He's aching and aching for more, and the feelings are honestly too much for him. He's never been this pumped, this high on life or anything else like it. This is almost scary, and yet there's nothing in his voice and whimpers and delighted shocks of moaning that tell of anything but how good and wonderful this feels. He's hard and something is catching and his body wants more, more of whatever caught, to thrust inside it and be engulfed by it, to just be closer than anything. John doesn't understand it, why he wants to practically merge with Dave right now, and when he gets over that first bout of insecure desire, his head falls back against the couch, teeth digging into his lip with a strange new concentration. So close, so close to something, anything, so damn close...]
[Dave is only half aware of the fact that is wings are opening. He keeps them tucked in nicely against his back unless he's cleaning them, because they don't really work yet, but suddenly they're spread wide and wildly flapping on John's upstrokes, some part of his brain responding to being pushed into the air. He's still growing his adult feathers and the shedding down is suddenly everywhere, floating in the air and getting blown into their faces. He doesn't weigh much at all, and it almost feels like flying when John pushes into him, furious joy and pleasure flowing over his body and a breeze in his face. For a brief moment, he thinks he might actually have become airborne, and even though he's wrong, it's exciting like the first hint of facial hair and a jolt of excitement joins the confused fray.]
[John's face is pressed into Dave's neck, and Dave can feel the noises he's making as exhales against the sensitive skin. The response is a combination of mating instincts and a desperate surge of affection. Dave buries his face in John's hair, reveling in how soft rabbit hair is, and nuzzles him, song shifting back into function as the affection and stability of his friendship with this boy calms him down, just a little. It's a slightly different tune, not a mating song but an adoration song, softer, simpler, and sung directly into John's ear.]
[It doesn't last long before John falls back against the couch and the tune shifts effortlessly into sex again. One hard thrust shifts the fold of his jeans against his opening and something breaks. The noise Dave makes is all bird, a trilling call that sounds like the equivalent of "HALLELUJAH". His back curves in a tense line and his wings flap hard in response to each harsh stab of delirious pleasure, hips frantically pushing into John's in perfect unison. He can't open his eyes and he feels so hot, like a fire has been lit under his feathers, and it's not until he comes down and slumps against John's shoulder that he notices that his boxers are soaked.]
[John would think the feathers and sense of flight--almost--were magical, were he not in a rush to reach the end of this train ride of pleasure, eager to get to the final destination and get off off off--]
[His cry of straight up pleasure is silent, choked, because it's so intense and overwhelming he can only hope to be capable of speech. The world goes white, like a flash before his eyes, before he squeezes them shut and makes himself continue rubbing, slowly, to squeeze out the sticky, warm goo of fuck yes from his dick. He finally conjures up a moan, but it's strangled, the leftovers of a desperation so intense it's as if he's been released from torture. He's dizzy, and he slows to a stop, finally, and his leg and back muscles are starting to ache from the work forced upon them. He's pretty sure he's just used muscles he didn't even know existed, and that's just so cool wow.]
[He nuzzles against Dave, tries to talk but moans softly instead. He's trying to catch his breath, but that's easier said than done; he's about ready to pass out. John can feel wetness on his crotch, and he's not so sure how much of that is from him or Dave, or why it's there, or how all of that felt so damn good or--no, no thinking, only nuzzling and satisfied sounds murmured into Dave's neck, now.]
Feel the bump, bump, bump, bump || Make me get high with just one touch
[The weirdest part, though, is the swelling and tension in his cloaca. Half the time it itches, the other half it's... well, he doesn't really know what to call it. Dirk says it's normal, but it's still enough to make Dave's tail feathers twitch compulsively. It's not like he can just reach down there and scratch, and rubbing against things makes him feel... weird.]
[He's feeling tense downstairs again as he walks down the hallway from the bathroom. He'd left John in the latter's living room, movie still playing because, well, fuck it if Dave cares about Nic Cage. And he's seen this movie. Twice.]
Hey, honey bunch, you miss me?
[He stays expressionless as he stands between John and the TV, then takes two steps forward and slings a leg over his friend's hips, pressing their groins together. It's a joke, albeit a gutsy one that he's careful about not making too often, but it takes him off guard when his cloaca abruptly throbs, and oh. He chirps quietly in the back of his throat, a part of him that can only make bird noises. That was unexpected, and the joke and the movie are both forgotten.]
no subject
[He's caught off guard by Dave advancing, still shocked from no more movie and the warmth now suddenly on his lap.]
Huh? Oh, yeah, totally, sweetpeeps.
[John's body jolts when their groins meet, and he will swear he heard a chirp, that was a chirp, right? A bird noise? A noise that only Dave could make that he's never heard Dave make? And their crotches are all up on each other, and the jolt's startled whatever it is inside him that makes his lower bits swirl and tingle. His mind starts to accelerate a bit, and the focused attention he had on the movie has now all but scattered. Oh no. This is what always happens before he gets the weird not-so-soft dick thing going on that he gets confused by.]
U-uh, woah...
no subject
[He's duly aware that he's emoting right now, in a very avian fashion. Striders don't do the bird song thing, but Dave can feel it in his throat, and he's never heard this song before. Nobody's ever set this as their ringtone or played it in their headphones around him, it's new.]
[And he's singing it to John. Come on, human brain, wake up wake up wake up, english would be nice right now...]
no subject
[He holds onto Dave's hips as his own start to speed up. It's practically out of his control at this point, and he's very concerned that the only way Dave's not going to get bucked off is if he grips him tight, pulling him down, holding him firm against his hardening dick. It's not the fastest he could go, but with the human hormones still having some work to do before letting the rabbit ones override, it's steady but stupidly varying from slow-paced to fast to medium to fast again and back to slow. His muscles haven't developed for this, and this is also so pleasurably strange.]
[He doesn't know when his eyes shut, but they do and his head falls back against the couch. His jaw relaxes and he starts to breathe through his mouth, the puffs of breath mimicking his thrusts.]
no subject
[John's head goes back and something in Dave's brain tells him that it would be a wonderful idea to bury his face in his friend's neck and hold on tight to the front of his shirt. So he does just that, no longer trying to stop the singing, which does seem oddly fitting now that he's not trying too hard to think about it. Oddly, the song seems to be getting more complex as he completely loses his mind.]
[And he's no longer trying frantically to get something solid to rub against, because suddenly John's pubic bone isn't the only hard thing in the area. The bulge in his friend's pants catches on the indent in Dave's that is his opening, and the song skips a beat. He can feel his throat still trying to sing, but he's having trouble breathing and the whole thing dissolves into frantic little peeps as he rubs himself furiously against John's erection.]
no subject
[John is only a little aware at the awful angle his body has curved into, now. His back is pressed into the couch, mostly at the shoulders, while his feet stay planted on the floor and his hips have risen above the cushions to rut against Dave. His body is going to be sore later from all the muscle uses he's never even considered to be possible, but now the adrenaline and hormones and invigorating pleasure are fueling him and it's making anything possible to reach the end. He hasn't a clue how this is going to end, what he should be expecting when the coils in his stomach spring apart, when holding Dave down against his crotch by a firm, desperate grip on his thighs is the only thing in his comprehensive timeline.]
[He cries out briefly, almost softly, into the open air before he starts to put his face in the crook of Dave's neck, making sporadic sounds into him. He's aching and aching for more, and the feelings are honestly too much for him. He's never been this pumped, this high on life or anything else like it. This is almost scary, and yet there's nothing in his voice and whimpers and delighted shocks of moaning that tell of anything but how good and wonderful this feels. He's hard and something is catching and his body wants more, more of whatever caught, to thrust inside it and be engulfed by it, to just be closer than anything. John doesn't understand it, why he wants to practically merge with Dave right now, and when he gets over that first bout of insecure desire, his head falls back against the couch, teeth digging into his lip with a strange new concentration. So close, so close to something, anything, so damn close...]
no subject
[John's face is pressed into Dave's neck, and Dave can feel the noises he's making as exhales against the sensitive skin. The response is a combination of mating instincts and a desperate surge of affection. Dave buries his face in John's hair, reveling in how soft rabbit hair is, and nuzzles him, song shifting back into function as the affection and stability of his friendship with this boy calms him down, just a little. It's a slightly different tune, not a mating song but an adoration song, softer, simpler, and sung directly into John's ear.]
[It doesn't last long before John falls back against the couch and the tune shifts effortlessly into sex again. One hard thrust shifts the fold of his jeans against his opening and something breaks. The noise Dave makes is all bird, a trilling call that sounds like the equivalent of "HALLELUJAH". His back curves in a tense line and his wings flap hard in response to each harsh stab of delirious pleasure, hips frantically pushing into John's in perfect unison. He can't open his eyes and he feels so hot, like a fire has been lit under his feathers, and it's not until he comes down and slumps against John's shoulder that he notices that his boxers are soaked.]
no subject
[His cry of straight up pleasure is silent, choked, because it's so intense and overwhelming he can only hope to be capable of speech. The world goes white, like a flash before his eyes, before he squeezes them shut and makes himself continue rubbing, slowly, to squeeze out the sticky, warm goo of fuck yes from his dick. He finally conjures up a moan, but it's strangled, the leftovers of a desperation so intense it's as if he's been released from torture. He's dizzy, and he slows to a stop, finally, and his leg and back muscles are starting to ache from the work forced upon them. He's pretty sure he's just used muscles he didn't even know existed, and that's just so cool wow.]
[He nuzzles against Dave, tries to talk but moans softly instead. He's trying to catch his breath, but that's easier said than done; he's about ready to pass out. John can feel wetness on his crotch, and he's not so sure how much of that is from him or Dave, or why it's there, or how all of that felt so damn good or--no, no thinking, only nuzzling and satisfied sounds murmured into Dave's neck, now.]
Wow...