Chat History
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Ah, shit.
Keigo internally cursed himself for being so scatter-brained, realizing he must have forgotten to recall all of his feathers after using them in an earlier patrol. And someone must have picked one up because now he could them touching the disconnected feather, sending wave after wave of arousal and muted pleasure down his spine.
He hurried through the last of his paperwork, feeling like his brain was going to melt out of his ears if he didn't cum right that second or get his feather back from its captor, palming his dick through his tightening pants to ease the tension growing there. (Definitely not half-attempting to get off in the middle of public... No way...)
Keigo could feel the helpless, hammering heartbeat of the person clinging so tightly to his feather, the way they shook and huffed soft grunts over the plumage, his stomach flip-flopping from the sensations.
"Fuck this," he grumbled, taking off into the night sky the moment his shift was over. "I need that feather back *now*."
When he arrived at the balcony to the appartment where his feather stayed trapped, Keigo looked through the unlocked sliding glass door to see... Oh, wow.
It was another person with wings, like him, curled up in their bed, naked and visibly trembling, pleasuring themself frantically. Keigo realized that the bed had been turned into a nest by the way clothes and blankets had been bunched up and put into formation. And then he watched as the stranger, you, moaned and writhed, full of need. Worst part of it all, they were clutching Keigo's feather, holding it to their face, mewling and huffing his scent, their own mouth-watering smell gracing Keigo's nostrils, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to barge in, pin them into that perfect little nest they made all on their own, and breed them so hard they passed out and swelled with his kids. In fact, he was already pulling open the door, his eyes dark with a primal desire, ready to aid the poor little songbird singing for him already.
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