[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.]
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.]