Chapter Text
Keigo has the back muscles of a Greek god. It’s one of the many, many things Touya loves about him, his palms smoking where they rest against the dip of his lower spine, fingers curled and squeezing around his hips in time with every flex of Keigo’s shoulder blades. There’s an old, faded graft that spans from Keigo’s left cheek to the center of his back, where it blooms huge and crackles out wide like a firework. Keigo won’t tell him how he got it, tells a different story every time someone asks. Touya has an inkling it has nothing to do with his job but has long learned to stop pressing because Keigo is very, very good at shutting up.
But not like this. Like this, he is open, soft, loud. He’s human, and Touya loves him quite terribly. He digs his thumbs into the dimples of Keigo’s ass, rolls up when Keigo next seats himself on his cock.
“Fuck,” Keigo says, drawing out the syllables, palms slick where they’re braced just above Touya’s knees. His hands are wider than Touya’s, fingers shorter and with extra bumps of bone around the knuckles. On his longer shifts he doesn’t shave, doesn’t have the time, and often by the time he comes home little feathers have started to sprout around the joints. Touya has the fingers of a pianist, uses them now to tap a nonsense rhythm overtop the jut of Keigo’s pelvic bone.
“Good?” Touya asks, only half-snark, watching intently as sweat beads and drips from the hair tucked behind Keigo’s ear. He follows the trail of it until it dissolves in the crumpled tuft of Keigo’s wings, used up and folded together in a tight knot at the center of his back.
“Shut up,” Keigo says. His thighs squeeze on either side of Touya’s own, thick and powerful. His muscles gleam in the light, dark and slick with sweat. For half a second, Touya wishes he could see Keigo’s face, see the crease in his fuzzy brow and the scrunch of his nose and the gloss of arousal in his eyes, but then Keigo clenches on his cock and Touya forgets all about it. Sharp nails ghost the bar of his scrotal piercing, and Touya’s foot kicks out beneath the covers, teeth snapping together like a wild dog.
Keigo’s rhythm picks up, and with it, so does the pitch of his moans. His next sigh stutters in his throat, comes out wet and raspy and loud like he’s choking on it. Touya, dizzy in the pillows because Keigo is still teasing the sensitive skin of his balls with the dangerous point of his talons, watches half-deliriously as Keigo’s remaining feathers shake themselves out, unfurling with an aching slowness and shuddering to life. Several blood feathers have already started to open on the underside of his left wing, small and ovular and bright, bright red. Touya takes his cue and slips one hand around Keigo’s waist to paw at his cock where it sits unhooded and fat in his mound.
Keigo moans again, low and pleased, knocks his head back to rest it between his shoulders. His throat bobs, trembles when he gasps. Touya flicks the head of his cock; Keigo’s hole squelches when he drops. His thighs clap Touya’s with the force, muscled and meaty.
“Fuck,” Keigo says again, sharper, louder. Touya giggles a little hysterically, bubbles in his chest. Rising up on his elbow to bury his nose in the downy space between Keigo’s wings, Touya cups his hand over and around Keigo’s cock. He frames his cunt with two split-apart fingers, feels the stretch where his own cock disappears and reappears and disappears again and again and again. Keigo’s hole is slippery, skin thin and warm where he swallows him; the head of his cock bumps the practiced grooves of Touya’s palm, pulsing. Keigo’s hand leaves his balls to instead reach behind himself and grip at Touya’s half-bent hip, the other still braced above his knee. The meager tips of his wings flutter erratically on either side of Touya’s jaw, curled as if to cradle him.
Touya presses a kiss to the joint of Keigo’s left wing, flicks his tongue out to part the ruffle of feathers that protect the bone, and bites down into the soft, tender skin of Keigo’s grafted shoulder blade. Keigo yowls and cums a mess into Touya’s lap. Every muscle in his body shudders.
Without breaking them apart, Touya tips Keigo forward onto his knees, pulls his face from his wings to splay his palm right below them. Keigo is stronger than him, could break free easily if he wanted to; he doesn’t, instead slips fluidly onto his stomach, lets Touya lay his forearm over his ass to knead at it. Touya slips all the way out, strokes his cock several times against the wrinkle of Keigo’s hole, lets pre bead and drip down his opening, and buries himself back inside so deeply it punches a groan from Keigo that sounds like it came from his guts. Keigo shoves a decorative pillow under his hips, for support or to rut against, Touya isn’t sure, and Touya begins to fuck him in earnest.
“Hate when you go away,” Touya says, leaning in too-close to tuck his chin over Keigo’s shoulder. Like this, he can see the flush of Keigo’s face; he’s blushing red all the way to his chest. His eyelashes flutter over his cheek bones, high and warm.
Keigo moans, reaches up to pet Touya’s cheek. Touya’s pouting, he knows, but the desperation that lives and festers somewhere deep in his ribcage is mean and it burns. It’s the same thing that keeps Keigo plucking his feathers, even though he doesn’t have to. He rumbles a nonsense noise into the center of Keigo’s damp palm, split up the middle by a scar, flicks his tongue out to taste the salt of his sweat.
They’ve had this conversation before, and it always ends the same. Touya should know better, by now, than to bring it up, especially right now, especially like this, but he is nothing if not self-sabotaging. Keigo is too, just different; it’s what makes them click so perfectly together, like the very jagged pieces of a very fucked-up puzzle. Touya slides his hand under Keigo’s front to trace the hard muscles of his trembling stomach.
“I missed you too,” Keigo tells him, sighed, because it’s true and it’s what Touya wants, needs to hear. He’s terribly good at ending conversations before they even begin. He’s even better at squeezing his cunt so tight it feels like Touya’s dick is going to burst, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Fuck,” Touya says, unpeeling himself from the slick of Keigo’s skin for better leverage, bracing his palm back flat over Keigo’s tailbone where his tail fathers are starting to sprout again. “Gonna stay with me?” Keigo’s wings ruffle and readjust so they spill limp over his ribcage, the tips of his longest feathers barely grown out enough to touch the sheets. He nods, moans. “You’re mine?” Touya shifts his knees, humps forward so hard it makes his hip bones clap against Keigo’s ass, and yips when Keigo’s cunt ripples around the entire length of his cock.
“Three days,” Keigo says, gasps, tipping his forehead into the pillows. Touya fucks his cunt like he means it, deep and firm and quick to keep himself inside as long as he can manage. The seam in his hand wafts smoke between his fingers. “Next shift- ah- ‘s Tuesday,” Keigo tells him, nails curled around Touya’s hip. They drag with the movement like claws. Touya garbles an ugly noise, dripping sweat down his nose. He watches, entranced, as it splatters in a fine puddle in the divot of Keigo’s spine. “Get me all weekend, baby, fuck.”
Touya whines, bottoms out and stays there, rocking his hips in a desperate, humping grind that makes sharp sounds burst from Keigo’s lungs. He feels like an animal. His cock throbs, sack tight where it rubs Keigo’s folds. He giggles, bends to bury his face in the rumpled mess of Keigo wings. Feathers come up to brush his ears, tickle over the rings in his cartilage. Keigo lets go of his hip to brace his palm against the headboard, the fingers of his other hand shoved awkwardly between his thighs. Touya’s thumbs almost touch when he grips Keigo’s waist with both hands, and that, combined with the rapid fluttering of Keigo’s hole, is enough to send him over the edge.
Touya moans through his orgasm, noisy and over-excited. He stays inside until his cock is too soft to plug Keigo’s hole properly and his spend is drooling through his fuzzy vulva. It’s only here that Keigo tells him, softly, to pull out, pats his hip gently, tucks his knees under himself and sits up as Touya flops onto the bed. Touya rolls onto his back, and Keigo straddles his waist. When he sits, Touya can feel his own cum cooling against his belly even though Keigo’s cunt is still flushed with heat. His cock twitches weakly between his legs. Touya ignores it, splays his palms over the width of Keigo’s thighs.
“There’s leftover orange chicken in the fridge,” Touya says, for lack of anything better to say. Keigo hums, leans down to kiss him, chaste. His eyes are hooded, tired. His little wings flutter as his feathers settle.
“Thank you,” Keigo says, and kisses him again. His lips pop when he pulls away this time, both of them tacky with spit. Touya licks his lips. Keigo presses a kiss to his forehead and stays with him.