Midnight Dances
Midnight Dances
I sat on the soft bed, and held my fingers together in my lap, in a moment of hesitation. My heart beat a quickened pace, thumping in my breast, and I stared out at the windows, streaked with rain and quivering with wind, dancing with the storm that rocked the world below to sleep and dream. High above it, in the upper echelons of the grand tower, I waited, shivering, quivering, trembling, in the warm atmosphere tinged with heat and electric chill.
My feathers were damp, damp from the trace of musk that worked between the feathers, damp from the dancing not less than an hour before, damp, with the slick kiss of rain. Damp, with a trembling electricity that tingled through my body, and made my crest rise, gazing up upon the shadows that danced and flared when the thunder rolled, and lightning illuminated my world. The glow of the embedded inks on my beak gave me a ghostly look, the implanted lights beneath my feathers gave soft traces when I moved, or, as it need be, shivered. In the anticipatory air, I had much to shiver with, which only served to stimulate the glow all the more.
I rose to my feet, slowly, and rested a hand behind me, my other on the strap to my upper garments, to loosen it off of my form. It kept me occupied, as I was hesitant to look up at what made me tingle, nervous, excited, and needy. I gazed, and felt the washed need from his eyes, and the enabling, burning want from his panting lips. A trickle of saliva made his lips slick, as he stepped a little closer to me. His eyes were hungry, and made me shiver. He came near to me, and placed his hand on my cheek, and leaned in, gently.
A kiss was alien and familiar, but I felt a longing tingle pass into my deepest reaches, when his mouth met mine, and he suckled softly, sharing a kiss, an act that was intimate and sharing and toe-curling and mind-blowing.
He and I, had met less than a day ago; in the rain outside of my work. My work, in administration and building a positive image of the Mars Colony, the Avnari, and Avnari-Human Relations had allowed me my day of rest. One out of five days was given to doing as I desired; and at the moment I desired the rain and wind and the open spaces, which beckoned to me like the nubile dance of smoke from the long water pipes. I had spread my arms and felt the wind course over me, stroking me like a lover, and tickle my wing membrane which left me delighted. I was young again, before the first molting, in the great wind chambers on the long-lived ships.
In those moments, I felt eyes on me, and gazed up to to the face of a human, with short hair, and trimmed facial growths, eyes of gray and a sturdy uniform clinging to his body. He was a soldier, and one who was enjoying his own time off. I felt my crest raise as he smiled, I felt my nares flush, as he called me over. He served at the embassy, which I worked out of primarily. Many times I'd seen him in his duty, and paid him little heed.
But on full sight of him, tall and lithe and limber, with that alien confidence to him, I could do little but stare, and feel comforted by him. Perhaps I was tired. Perhaps I ached from my efforts; but I found only the comfort of him to sate a sudden gap in my breast. His fingers touched my shoulder in a traditional greetings of open friendship, and I returned it, feeling the tautness of his form beneath my touch. He smiled, without teeth - and shared his name, Julian. I gave mine, Water-over-Silver as we walked, and enjoyed the warm sprinkling drops that came from the heavens far above. He was on three day leave.
He didn't want to spend it alone.
His mouth slid against my own, and trailed soothingly against my cheek, and down, grazing against my throat. I gasped, and felt my body arch up, as his teeth gripped on my neck, and he ground his body against my own, letting me feel the electric discharge of walking across carpet, and the contact of a body built for heat and savanah nights upon mine. I groaned, I moaned, I bucked against his thigh as it pressed against my front, making me shiver down to my primaries. His teeth pinched skin, and I shuddered.
My neck was longer than a humans, but not as strong. His own was short, but he responded to the scratch of my feathers against his neck, the slender digits of my wing-arm coming up to trace down the middle of his spine, and slowly across the thin, white shirt that clung to his form. My grasp ended on his buttocks, and I squeezed there into the material, which drove him against me harder. His clothing was soaked, wet, drenched in rain and sweat, in that heady, peppery musk of a human male, which made my mouth water, and my loins throb.
He clutched to me, then stepped back from the bite, a trickle of blood on his lips - a warmth on my throat. I felt the ache that pounded with my heart beat, and I felt my knees slowly buckle, not from weakness, but incoherency from the numbing pleasure, am filled need and liquid warmth in my groin. Like the flapping of insects, it tickled my stomach, as he drew the thin straps of my torso wrap open - and trailed his slick fingertips down each line, each trace of glowing blue implant. He had strong hands. Delightful hands. Ambidextrous hands. Wonderful hands.
They pulled the small buckles, slid off the clinging straps, and bared my chest, my belly, my back to him. Down, I was clung to in a different set of garments, that kept my secrets from him. In no rush, his fingers slid through my feathers, and against my lower belly, where he pushed in and ground his digits, feeling the secret places inside of me, and moving up, along my abdomen, to the root of my membrane wings, and slid his digits along a very narrow, very sensitive patch of flesh. My mind went white.
We had enjoyed a lunch together; in a dinner which was built for those who had the mind to try alien flavors. Not everything was universal, but there were many tastes to amaze a pallet - sweet chocolate and mints, coffee washed across my tongue, as he enjoyed the light meat and vegetable mixes, arranged to color and appeal. Vegetable heavy, as I did not consume meat, he ate with relish, licking the thin sauces off of the wraps and seeming to savor each bite, as I did with mine.
The flavor was always something new with Terran cuisine, something wonderful, something exciting, something pleasing. Flavors tickled my tongue and warmed my crop, to be digested slowly, to be tasted again, to be slid into my stomach when I was hungry. I ate and drank with the same gluttonous appetite of a starving fledge. I savored the taste down my throat, with spices and sweetness bathing my taste buds. His smiled as I enjoyed my meal, and I felt my nares warm, when he licked his fingertips clean.
To even more of a surprise, he leaned forward, across the table and held out the last roll for me. Heavy in the sauces that gave it a sour hint over sweeter base, I opened my beak and felt him press the roll onto my tongue, feeding me as though I were young again. It was an intimate gift, and one that could mean many things, many things that wondered and flared in my mind. I had the feeling, to my delight, it was meant as an intimate gift, and an even more intimate invitation.
Awareness met me, and I felt him against my front, nudging me forward, against the strong body holding my own. Awareness came with a rush, as I slowly pulled my beak up from my breast, and gazed to the amused face, which spoke volumes of what he had played my body to. I could smell my release, my scent in the air - he did the same, and he seemed to thrive on it. His fingers drew from my sides and wings to rest on his hips, which drew my attention.
He was pushed out, and tented his garments. He pushed out and pushed his hips forward, as sure an offering as a meal to my beak, and I reached down, to rest my hand on the stiffness. He grunted as I stroked and fondled and felt, as I tugged the flesh and felt the thin, white cloth stain and grow slippery. I drew my fingertips up and tasted them, tasted him. Richer than the scent of his throat, sweeter, than the taste of his lips, I slowly sank down, to kneel myself in humble prostration, and peeled the cloth from his hips, to stare at his erection which pushed up, offered itself to me without hesitation. I stared, I breathed, I lifted my fingers to cup the soft flesh of his scrotum, and rubbed the two testes against my palm.
The tip of my fingers stroked over his groin and up to the root of his firey erection, which he responded to by gripping the base, and lifting it up to my mouth. I leaned forward to breath from him - before my beak opened, and he placed himself upon my tongue. His taste was rich and bold and male, and I rubbed my tongue across his shaft, as he pushed up against my beak.
It was a dance, between us. My fingers cupped his backside and caressed his hanging scrotum, and his hips moved forward, pushing over my tongue and beak and into my gullet, prodding the wet and slippery organ without any hesitation. I could not form the suction that he wanted, but an eager tongue made up for this shortcoming, as he drooled more of his pre-emissions over my tongue, and rewarded me with a quicker push, and a hotter dance.
We had danced, five hours ago. We danced in the rain in the open-air gardens, we danced in the darkness of a sense-club, where the liquid beats made me tingle and excited. He joined me each place, met me each step, and helped me burn off the food I'd swallowed. His fingers clasped my back and dipped me, catching eyes of others around us. I didn't mind, I didn't care, no one cared but for the moment.
I brushed against him and wrapped a leg to his hip, as he swept me again, and we returned to the timeless beats. I danced and bobbed my head, swaying my form to the whispers of sound - the flaring, rotating spectrum of light spilled across my feathers, letting me glow brighter, to his eyes to feast and trail down.
He charged me, filled me, and we laughed together, in gentle symphony of enjoying each other. That was what it was all about, was it not?
And then, with the thunder strike to the building, the dance stopped, and I panted for breath. He held himself back from the very edge of ultimate release. I felt him trembling in his want, much like I was, but he stepped back from me, and helped me stand. His lips kissed the side of my beak as he made simple work of my garments, leaving me as bare as he was, and he turned, to lead me to the balcony, to the open railing and the wet delight of midnight rain.
Under the storming skies, he lead me forward, and braced me against the railing, which was slick and slippery and ready for my grip. I was in no danger of falling off, or being blown off, but I felt, I knew his desires, from how he gently urged me to bend at the hip, and raise my tail feathers high and proud. I felt him behind me, and pushing my forward even more; until I was fully presented, my haunches in the air and thighs open, wide, exposing my cloaca. He savored the view, and I flushed from embarrassed pleasure.
And then, with breathless anticipation, I was opened, pressed to, splayed - the swell of my cloaca was widened and heatedly slid into. He was gentle, with fingers grasping my shoulders and hip, he was smooth, sliding forward and up into me, in a way that was unique, pleasant, and wanting. Wanting more, pleased beyond compare, it was an electric tingle and fire that burned through my loins, when all of him was in me, and he pushed me against the railing. I pushed back.
I pushed hard, squeezing down and clenching around him, which stiffened him and provided me a symphony of moans and gasps. I rolled my hips back to meet his groin, and felt the heat of his body contrast the chilled rain - as his belly rested against my lower back, and his stance widened. The rippling thrusts slapped against my backside, the vibration steady as a heart beat, and quick as one too. My hands tightened on the railing while my chest slapped into it. He shook over me, held over me, bred me without mercy, and with nothing but care.
His heart beat a crescendo, felt with what was driven into me, a spreading of my being to his. He leaned over me and bit my shoulder, squeezed my throat, caressed my stomach and chest and sides, and with a clench, my world went white, and he hit into me again, again, again. Fire crept into my belly as I bucked and trembled, fire filled me, the heat from his core splashing thick and wet into my depths, into my tight, yielding cloaca. He was in me, he was through me, he completed my being.
Thunder rolled and lightning danced before us, striking the building beneath where we fucked. Thunder rolled through me and the wind bucked, making me tighten up my grip and stance myself wide. Wings fell open to catch the wind, as he held me, panting and gasping. I reveled in his heat, I gave him my softness, and the thick stiffness remained deep. Oh, how I felt the ache of his breath, the draining of his testicles leaving me full, and slippery, and comfortably uncomfortable. I didn't move, nor did he, as we simply gasped for air, for breath, for a filled lung.
His fingers released my throat with a long stroke from beak to breast, and he slowly rose up and lifted me, pulling me to his chest and belly. I was held while he took me to bed, laid me down, and curled against me, not losing the connection in the process. My head on a pillow, he curled around me, soaking the bed in our slick bodies - but I could care later. The blanket was tugged up a bit, to keep us close. I didn't mind. I was his, and he knew it.
And without any energy left, I felt him slip unconscious, and I held his arm, caressed his fingers, and joined him.
We both still had a day left together.