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peacockstop2025-11-15 03:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2025-11-15 03:00 pm
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TDM 12
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
As a token of appreciation to all of our guests, the house and resort have worked in collaboration with the all powerful system that transmigrates souls between worlds to bring you a special excursion! All are invited to participate in our limited time event, Tits out! A Sex Dungeon! where guests can shop, craft, adventure, treasure hunt, and battle.
During this event, sexual encounters with WILDCARD guests are worth double the payout, so please keep an eye out for our new arrivals! Other supplies, such as typically banned weapons, are also available.
We appreciate our low rank guests temporarily adjusting their living quarters to accommodate this delightful experience. Extra thanks to you for your generosity! 】
WINDING MARKET
A ROOKERY COMES SPRAWLING
SPECIALTY SHOPS
LIMITED TIME WARES
JOBS & QUESTS
A MAKESHIFT TAVERN
Are you looking to make big coin? Do you have the strength and endurance to take on the dungeon? Then we want YOU to join our guild's quest to sLay!
The dungeon is teeming with sexy monsters that need sLaying. All you need to do to sLay is to fuck them real good! Once satisfied, these sexy monsters may drop quality loot. Join in the hunt to sLay and consolidate drops with our guild! We're happy to make trades or buy.
Yaaassss sLay all day!
JOB POSTING ONE! BIG PAYOUT FOR EASY WORK!
I am a pharmacist looking for some brave adventurers willing to go down into the dungeon and collect dongle flower milk for me. I need at least 10 bottles! This is an important ingredient in one of my popular prescriptions. I am not athletic enough to go get it myself and my supplies are running low.
Please deliver all dongle flower milk to the medical shop in the northwest corner of the market. Please note, I need FULL bottles. Do not skimp or I won't pay!
JOB POSTING TWO! HELP A WOMAN'S GROWING BUSINESS!
I am a young lady looking to expand my make-up business. I heard rumors that there's water in the dungeon that could make an AMAZING base for make-up products. But it sounds like it's super scary in there and I don't want to go. Please, someone, help!
You can bring all bottles of dungeon water to the make-up booth in the southeast corner of the market. I'm willing to pay in chips or trade some of my current products. My face masks and nail polishes are really good!
JOB POSTING THREE! PLEASE DON'T ASK WHY!
Hello. I need many dungeon slime cores, so I am looking for everyone and anyone willing to go slime hunting and gather some for me. We can negotiate pay based upon the number of slime cores brought. Do not inquire what the slimes or their cores are needed for.
Please bring all slime and slime core deliveries to back door of the Dried and Baked Sundries shop. Thank you!
JOB POSTING FOUR! I WANT COLLECTABLES!
If you're going into the dungeon, I want collectables. If you find that fabled treasure room, bring me back something cool and shiny. I'm willing to pay good money! I don't care what it is as long as it's hard to get and I can brag to my friends about it.
You can find me drinking in the tavern. I'll be wearing expensive velvet and a tiny hat with a feather.
A WHOLE NEW BASEMENT
GOOD LUCK, NEW ARRIVALS
UPPER DUNGEON
START THE DESCENT
LOWER DUNGEON
HALFWAY DOWN
TREASURE ROOM
IT DEFINITELY ISN'T CURSED
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: alcohol; altered states; anonymous; aphrodisiacs; BDSM dynamics; body swap; breeding kink; classic tropes; costumes; cum play; dubcon; death; enchantments; erotic plants; erotic monsters; entrapment; hypnotism; noncon; temperature play; traps; weapons; violence; voice kink
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's November event and is designed to provide content for players through the mods' December break. The marketplace and dungeon will ICly conclude on January 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header. The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's November event and is designed to provide content for players through the mods' December break. The marketplace and dungeon will ICly conclude on January 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header. The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
no subject
I was thinking that we could wash off if there was one.
[ Unable to help himself, Quincy stops only when he’s standing right in front of the Miemeng bird. Drawn in, a hapless moth to beautiful flame. Like that ill-fated insect, Quincy can’t resist reaching out to touch. His hands, still damp from dongle milk, cup Getian’s warm cheeks. A thumb strokes, gently wiping away a few flecks of milk clinging to that pretty face. A gesture that might have been sweet if not for the raging boner that Quincy’s currently sporting; its profile is impressive, a massive bulge leaking precum against the front of his trousers.
His own cheeks burn. Even the roots of his ears are blushing, bright color stark against blond curls. Forget a pond—what Quincy really needs at the moment is an ice bath. Every nerve wants Getian. Needs Getian. Yet to attack him in the middle of a crop of erotic flowers again … what if he starts to think that Quincy is some cloaca-hungry beast?
Despite best intentions, Quincy’s gaze is rapt on Getian’s mouth. Such a lovely shape. Begging to be kissed. He’s trying very hard not to visualize how they would look stretched around his cock. ]
… but it may be too late for that.
[ He can immediately sate one of those urges. Leaning in, Quincy meets their mouths, finding the smallest relief in the curve of Getian’s lips. A kiss that he lingers in, an innocent one despite all of the depraved acts he wants to subject the Miemeng bird to. In the end, he rests their foreheads together before admitting, ]
I want you.
[ As if his unflagging erection hasn’t made that abundantly clear. But this want isn’t the same as having been drenched in milk and meeting a stranger; it’s genuine attraction that he has always been quiet and respectful about amplified to an overwhelming degree. Their first encounter had been so sudden and frenzied that he’s taken great care since. Wanting to treat Getian well… but with instincts laid bare by dongle flowers, it’s hard to deny his desire to fuck the bird senseless.
What he doesn’t know, however, is if Getian wants him back in the same way. He may have also been sprayed, but not to the same degree—and even so, that doesn’t mean that Getian wants to mate with him again. ]
no subject
even if there was a body of water they could wash off the milk with, should they, at this point? there’s a part of getian that feels ashamed for how passive and aloof he has been since their first meeting. should he be more forthcoming with his affections? it’s been so long he scarcely remembers the process for his own kind, and surely it would be different with a human.
in that case, the effects these flowers have are putting their finger on the scale, yes, pushing them more forcefully in a scenario that they might have fallen into otherwise… but it’s one that getian very much would like to fall into. sometimes, that push is useful.
quincy closes the distance between them, and getian remains rooted where he is, chest rising and falling in the quick tempo of his breath as he half-holds his wings out at his sides, partially folded, occasionally fluttering if not just as an outlet for superfluous, nervous-excited energy. when he reaches out to cup his face in both hands, it is an echoed memory of how he had done much the same after their first encounter. getian’s heart beats even faster, threatening to burst. he tries to get himself sorted, to account for his countenance and his composure, but he all but melts into the kiss when quincy finally leans in to initiate it.
as relatively short and chaste as the kiss may be, something rises in getian during it. previously, he had been standing in such a way where he was roughly equivalent in height with quincy. when their lips meet, however, his posture changes, and his clawed feet shift in the grass. he stands tall to his full height, having to crane his neck downwards to maintain the kiss right before separation is put once more between them—though not so much that they can’t meet their foreheads together in a gesture of closeness that is in and of itself yet another echo of their past.
with the way that getian typically holds himself, one can forget how immense of a bird he actually is. his actual body may be willow-like and slender, but his wingspan is wide and his scaled, taloned legs are long and powerful. in his own era, he had called himself a yao, or what humans believed to be malevolent monsters or demons. it had been helpful to set others’ expectations of him. Miemeng birds are by their nature peaceful and beneficial to man, but, oh, what a ruin they could have been if their hearts were not so pure in their love for mortals and their beautiful, messy world.
“I want you.”
there is a great arcane power spoken of on the Great Plains of his era. even in his own time, it had become so rare that many thought it a myth, as the Gods of Sheti had become harder and harder to find and commune with: Ask and Acquire. regardless of the story told, there is always a great risk that one assumes when making their plea.
getian’s mismatched eyes flash, and his wings fling out to their maximum span. they move, gathering up the dead air beneath them, beating it into something alive and useful as he launches off of the ground—though not before he reaches out to, just as he had intended to when he’d approached quincy earlier, snatch quincy around the midsection and carry him up into the mingled branches and architecture of this level’s canopy.
a short flight later, and he’s dropping the man as gently as he can (which is actually not very gently at all, because quincy is large and heavy for a human, and flying with him is even more difficult than when he’d carried yenisei as a small horse) in a sizable nest, hidden and secure in the high branches of the trees. it had actually been the nest of a group of harpies, but getian had forced them out of it (and cleaned it up) when he’d decided to spend some time on this level of the dungeon. now it serves a far more important purpose than an occasional safe place to rest his eyes. once quincy has been deposited, getian lands directly over him, talons sinking into the soft, woven material as he flares his wings out over him in a way that could be construed as either protective or possessive. )
Quincy, ( when he speaks his tongue feels oddly leaden; lust makes it difficult for him to think clearly, and even if he could, things like this are still hard for him to work through mentally, let alone verbally, ) I want you as well.
( one foot lifts, carefully positioning to drag the very points of his talons over the hem of quincy’s shirt, tugging ever-so-slightly into the waistline of his pants. getian probably could rip these off of him, but, well… they’d almost certainly be ruined. but it’s rather obvious for that a long moment, he is definitely considering it. )
I, have wanted you…
no subject
And a powerful creature. Though it may not be with the greatest of ease, he scoops Quincy up like salmon from the river and flits away into the trees. It’s a quick journey of wind rushing in his ears and the grip of claws before he is deposited into a nest. It’s made of rough branches but softened by leaves and moss, making it surprisingly comfortable—aside from the initial drop. Yet Quincy can’t find it himself to mind being tossed like fresh prey to the chicks when he looks up into those mismatched eyes. What he sees reflected in them resonates with the ache in his own chest. Desire, need, affection, trust.
I want you as well.
Quincy reaches out. Fingers brush over feathers as Getian perches above, a brief gesture before hands fall back as talons roam over his shirt. They could easily shred its fabric, and though Getian looks completive, he ultimately doesn’t move to tear it off. Even if it’s been ruined by milk stains, walking out of the dungeon naked is not ideal. Right now, though—Quincy’s fingers dance over the buttons of his jacket to strip both it and the tunic underneath off. Blond curls tousle, falling across his forehead as Quincy gazes up to meet Getian’s eyes. ]
How have you been wanting me?
[ Quincy unbuttons his trousers and tugs down the zipper. His cock stands free, heavy and flush, already dripping a thread of fine precum from the swollen tip. Those, too, he kicks off so that he’s without a stitch of clothing. Naked and yearning, the man leans up to wrap his arms around Getian’s smooth waist, beginning kiss along the line where feather and flesh meet. ]
I want to hear it. [ his lips move, skimming and tracing. warm breath tickles with every exhale. ] …I want to do it.
no subject
quincy seems to sense his hesitation. that’s good. at present, it survives getian’s impatience, but it likely wouldn’t indefinitely. once the man’s hands move to the fastenings of his own clothing, the Miemeng bird retrieves his claw to once again balance himself in the nest. it’s a sturdy thing, nestled soundly in the junction of several strong branches and the architecture of the resort itself. even with two large inhabitants, it will not budge.
his desire is written plainly on his face as the articles of clothing are stripped away; his mismatched gaze sweeps appreciatively over the fine musculature of his chest, the firm indentations of his hips, the thick and full cock that springs free from the shed trousers. even without any external “aid,” getian would ache in want for him, memories dense and syrupy with their first encounter—a wild and surprising tumult of an event that getian still sorted through mentally and believed he would have to experience more like it, with quincy himself, to fully comprehend the full ramifications of. on this, there are no markings written in bone to divine for him the full extent of meaning.
his gaze lifts to meet quincy’s at the question. for a moment he seems… puzzled, and then—vexed? it’s the faintest irritation, but not at the man. language, though beautiful, has always been an imperfect vehicle for thought, feeling, and emotion.
but he wishes to hear it, so it is not a request he will repudiate. when quincy’s arms wind around his waist, getian allows him to pull him into his arms, slowly crouching down onto his knees. his breath flutters audibly as the man begins to press a line of kisses to his waist, where flesh slowly fades to soft, downy feathers. given how much hotter the bird’s body temperature is, his skin is brilliantly warm beneath quincy’s lips.
when getian replies, there is something odd in his voice.
all Miemeng birds have the arcane skill which allows them to comprehend and speak any language—something they can cast on and share with others, as well. this place seems to have its own arcane power which manages the same, but, still, when speaking with others, getian tends to speak in their language. while habit, he also believes it might be easier for them. now, however, he speaks in the language of his own home and era, selfishly, allowing the magic of the Golden Peacock to do the heavy lifting of the translation instead. )
The languages of men are crude and unworthy vessels for the body’s yearning and the heart’s demand.
( ah. so he’s just grousing…
but that might not be all. there’s a brief moment of conflict, flitting across his expression as a seam to his knitted brow. in truth, he is somewhat… self-conscious about his own ignorance in this subject. at least to his own understanding, human sexuality is a lot more complex than what he had experienced among his own people. want is something very concrete. you have to know something to want it. so much of what he has is only… curiosity. and not to mention uncertainty—how much is there that he simply cannot do, because he isn’t human…?
he breathes out a small sigh, lowering his wings. feathers tickle at quincy’s sides, and his tailfeathers splay out across his legs. when he continues, he still speaks his era’s language, but the verbiage is far more casual. ) The more I learn of humans and how they express their desires, the less I feel I understand. But I am very curious. There is much I would like to try, and… I would feel safe, trying them with you.
( it’s not a very specific answer, he knows. color begins to mark his pale complexion. he is embarrassed, but he forces himself to continue. )
And, ever since our first meeting… I have found myself wondering what it would be like if, rather than the way you took me before, I had you before me as I do now, and I took you myself.
( he wants quincy, desperately. he wants every inch of him inside of him; he wants to find the best possible positioning and movement of their bodies, one that would make both of them shudder and groan in pleasure. he wants to have authorship of that himself. this distinction, he finds, has importance—if not to attempt, if not to simply try. )
no subject
Getian lowers himself and feathers tickle Quincy's bare legs. At the same time, the man reaches up to cup Getian's face so that he can trace fingertips along his jaw and rub textured palms against his smooth, warm cheeks. For all of the passion that sizzles through the roadmap of Quincy's veins, it's affection that dominates, from the gentleness in his eyes to the tender way his lips move to kiss against fine clavicle and throat. For this, he's grateful that the dongle flowers aren't as potent as those snoggleblossoms... potent in a different way, at least. Unlike than the animalistic instinct of needing to fuck out the toxicity of that pollen, Quincy's mind is clear now. It isn't difficult to understand why the dongle flower milk is a key ingredient in someone's prescription.
His thumb moves to outline Getian's lips. Slowly, gently, as if caring for something precious. While his natural expression is one of vague irritation, often giving others the wrong idea, right now, a small smile curves as Quincy presses another kiss to Getian's chin. ]
Thank you, for indulging me.
[ That's all Quincy needed to hear. The assurance that what had happened between them, while unexpected and harried, hadn't been a mistake. That Getian wants him again, had been craving him in the same way, that the dongle flowers had merely been a catalyst for what had been simmering between the surface. ]
Take me. [ an exhale, another kiss, ] I want you to. [ a small laugh rumbles in his throat, ] If we had the patience and the room... I would dance for you, as we do in my tribe when courting a partner.
[ A beautiful tradition that mimics birds. One would dress in colorful robes and feathers and dance to attract the attention of who they wished to pair with. Though Quincy doesn't know if Getian's breed has the same mating ritual, he hopes that he understands the intention behind it. Such a lovely Miemeng bird deserves more passion, more affection, and more romance than what their last encounter, and this one, has given. ]
We can try everything you want to try, together. I want you, Getian. I have been wanting you for a long time. Right now, and in the future... I'm all yours.
no subject
it’s hard enough to find the right words to express his own fledgling desires. it’s even harder with quincy’s mouth moving against the fine ridge of his collarbone, sweeping up the column of his neck. it is rare enough for someone to put him on the spot and ask him what he wanted, so he is lost in the lurch of faint discomfort and embarrassment at that. still, he feels safe in handing these thoughts and feelings over to quincy, just as he feels safe and treasured in his arms.
he breathes out a half-sigh, half-laugh. ) …Of course.
( if he had known that quincy had that concern about their first encounter, he would have said something sooner. while it was the first time a heat had come on him and had been so viscerally pressing, it’s not the first time he’s gone through something along the lines of a “mating season,” so satisfying it together hadn’t been much of a concern in his mind. he knows better now, however, that humans do not typically undergo such things, so that worry of forcefully pressing the issue or taking advantage may indeed come to mind. ah… getian has to accept it as one of the shortcomings of his own shy and aloof nature.
quincy not only accepting but being willing to conform to those desires causes getian to blush; that color deepens, dripping down his neck before collecting in the hollow of his throat, as he speaks of his tribe’s tradition of courting a partner. truthfully, they are not too different from his people’s own traditions, though they had usually involved multiple displays of intent, meant to show one’s care as well as demonstrate themselves as suitable for one’s mate. )
Perhaps in the future, then.
( yes, they are both pressed for patience and room on this, even if it’s something he’d love to see…
ah, but he is more adept with his language in this. getian could recite a poem or sing a song, but it would have been recorded first so many centuries ago by a more talented poet or musician than himself. he has always lamented that Miemeng birds were cursed to forever mimic the art of others, but perhaps he doubted that anything he could create would be as beautiful as what has been made by those before.
still, he melts. eyes heavy-lidded, complexion rosy, and mouth slightly parted, he nods. the dongleflowers’ milk may not be as brusquely imperative as the effect of the snuggleblossoms, but it still ensures that an inflamed feeling of need washes through him with the incessant insistence of ocean waves—an emptiness within aching to be filled. animated by this bone-deep desire, he moves, arranging his body and aligning his hips so that he can position the heavy head of quincy’s cock at the entrance of his cloaca, already twitching from the eagerness of sinking down onto him once again. he pauses there for just a moment, feeling almost lightheaded as he does so. in-between quick bursts of breath, he replies, ) …We shall deny ourselves no longer, then.
( and then his hips drop to sink onto him, taking him just as deeply and as wantonly as he had said he wanted, as quincy had similarly said he wanted him to.
as hard and dripping as quincy had been in his desire for getian, the Miemeng bird is similarly slick and wet for his cock. if there is any momentary discomfort at adjusting to him, as thick and sizable as he is, it’s either completely lost in the wonderful wave of satisfaction to feel so perfectly filled by him once again or it’s not even there to begin with. and what feels immediately novel and different about being on top of him, of taking him so deeply into himself and fucking himself on his cock, was the freedom of movement which allowed him to adjust in small ways to find that angle that felt especially exciting, roiling out in a wave that he felt from the tips of his flight feathers to the curving points of his talons. )
Quincy, ( he exhales in a thin, soft, breathy moan. for a moment, he simply enjoys the presence of him filling him to his absolute limit, and then his hips roll upwards and downwards again, working the textured interior of his body against quincy’s cock as if with the intent to wring him dry. )
no subject
It feels good to have him. Right to have him. Knowing that their hearts are aligned heightens the experience, the pleasure. Quincy's hips buck up to greet the downward thrust of Getian's body, fucking into that tight clutch with growing desperation. Feathers tickle, sweat drips. Small branches snag in blond curls. Flush spreads across his chest and down his strong abdomen, between his thighs. Though he wants to grab, to wrap his arms around Getian's waist or neck, Quincy doesn't want to limit his range of movement. So, his fingers comb through the feathers of his hips and over thighs, repeatedly seeking contact and affection while they twine together. Their bodies rock, becoming one.
With Quincy on the bottom, gravity assists Getian's downward rolls. A position that has his cock sinking deeper into his cloaca than the first time. His cockhead grinds against inner walls and thrusts deep; precum leaks, making each fuck slicker between them. Quincy pants, gazing up at Getian with the softest of eyes. Lust and affection come together and he tries to convey the cottony feeling in his chest with a low, husky: ]
Getian...
[ The dongle flower milk is potent. It doesn't take long for Quincy to tremble beneath Getian's efforts. His gaze grows cloudy with pleasure, lips parted with erratic breaths as his thrusts quicken. Quincy groans, his adam's apple rolling in his throat. He can feel Getian's intent to wring him dry. His cloaca seizes up so sweetly, begging for his semen, as if it's somehow possible for him to plant his seed to grow. It's a demand that he can't deny; goosebumps break along his flesh as hotcold flashes, urgency cresting into impending release. Quincy throws his hips into fucking up into the grip of Getian's cloaca, voice finally breaking low and incoherent when he finally spends.
Buried deep, his cockhead pumps the Miemeng bird full. Perhaps it's another effect of the flower, but when Quincy comes, it's an absurb amount. Semen drips down his shaft as they continue to roll together. It's thick and sticky, as if he hasn't spent himself in weeks instead of the few days as demanded around the resort. Even the sensation is overly intense, as if it's been ripped from the very marrow of his bones. Even so, he keeps fucking, body energetic still despite spilling once. ]
You—you feel so good...
no subject
ultimately, what lie in their recent past matters little to him in comparison to the here and now. just as quincy gets the sense that he truly feels what it means to be inside getian for the first time, as his hips lower so he can take in his weighty, waiting cock, getian is beset by a similar sort of thought. the pollen’s effect had been drastic enough that the absence of quincy had been painful to the point of being worrisome, threatening. so when their bodies had joined that first time, whatever detail of what he might have experienced in that moment or been able to recall later was sanded down to the sweet relief of that urgency, the heated pleasure of their encounter, and the overwhelming sense of novelty it had been to be penetrated in such a way. the very color and texture of the sexual gratification it had given him had felt altogether different from anything he’d ever experienced before, though in a way that was hard to put to words afterward.
now, feeling so much more immediate and present in the moment, it truly does seem as though he feels what it truly means to “feel” quincy, here and now. getian has, by this point, gotten a deeper understanding of human anatomy enough to know that the man is… exceptional, both in length and girth. when he sinks onto him, taking him in so fully that the layers of short feathers along the back of his thighs brush against skin, he ends up feeling that the man’s cock fills him to what feels like his fullest extent—the discomfort of his body stretching to adjust to him is alleviated by just how wet he’d become in craving him, so if it’s a concern to him, it’s a faint and distant one. his breaths come in short, quick bursts, as if quincy being buried so deeply inside of him was going so far as to constrict his lung capacity. a gauzy blush spreads itself across his complexion, giving context to the look of heavy-lidded concentration that settles over him before he begins to move atop him.
in truth, the nuances of pleasure from being penetrated like this, not only fucking himself on quincy’s cock but to have the man bucking his hips upwards to deepen that further, are something that he discovers in real time. with other Miemeng birds, writhing together and satisfying one another with a cloacal kiss had been more… hm, subtle? delicate, even? if exacting the highest amount of pleasure out of something as simple as physical touch and sensation is something he could only think to explain in that way, then he would have to admit that there is something brusque and utterly lurid about being fucked like this, but—there’s also something wild, exciting, and bracing in that, in something so new and so physical and so raw. quincy’s cock finds sensitive places inside of his body he hadn’t even been aware existed, and there is something so immediate and so honest about being able to feel him pulse, throb, and twitch inside of him, impatient for the moment when he will be able to fill him to the brim. not that the man was withholding with how he felt, not with the way that he looks up at him with such devotion, wrapping his voice around the sound of his name as if it were an oath to be sworn. but to feel that evidence of how quincy must be enjoying this at the very core of him, all at the same time that his own pleasure begins to build and mount with pressing eagerness and anticipation is… indescribable. unimaginable, really—would he have ever been able to think that he would find such ecstasy and gratification, mating with a human?
quincy’s fingers rake through the dense feathers of his thighs as he thrusts upward into him; getian’s back arches as he cries out, voice saturated through with pleasure but also ever-so-slightly surprised at how he seems to manage to go even deeper within himself, startling a jolt of bone-deep bliss from him that causes the muscles of his legs to tremble as he continues his pace, body bobbing over quincy’s own. when the man’s own pace quickens, he understands on an unspoken, instinctual level. he is also beginning to feel his own grasp over himself slip, lost to the steady swell of sweetness that builds, from his sensitive entrance to deep within his hips, and begins to overtake him as quincy reaches his own climax. his cock swells and then spills, drenching his insides with so much hot, thick spurts of semen that they run down his cock to dribble and pool against his stomach. and it’s not just his own—with a stronger contortion from deep inside getian’s body, he reaches his own orgasm. he gasps, moaning, and even as quincy continues to fuck upwards into him, his inner walls begin to ripple and clench in effort that would have directed his own spend toward the cloaca of his mate. in this instance, however, it causes the muscles and faintly textured walls of his insides to work quincy’s still-hard cock mercilessly as his own cum mixes with quincy’s, both inside and outside of his body.
apart of the bloom of physical pleasure, he’s elated to see that quincy is not entirely spent, because, be it from the effects of the dongle flowers or his own awakened desires, he isn’t done. he wants more of him—as much as he can possibly have, as he can possibly withstand.
spurred on by impulse, getian reaches out. it’s not the same as when quincy had cupped his face in his large, warm, calloused hands, but that same warm feeling of vulnerable, fledgling affection animates him as he extends his arms to cradle his head between the “wrists” of his wings. his hips hinge forward for just a moment, allowing him to bend down towards him as he replies with bated breath, ) Don’t stop. ( he grinds backwards against him, and for a moment he’s thrown off by how the change in angle and motion changes the sensation entirely—stronger in its novelty, his eyes lid closed for a moment as his lips part with another breathy sound before he recovers enough that his eyes flutter open again, and he continues. ) It’s not enough, Quincy… I need more of you, please…
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Soft feathers fold into an enclosure. A curtain of tawny ushers the world away, leaving only a flushed beauty lofted overhead. Getian bows, altering their position enough that Quincy can reach to cup his cheeks again. He traces a thumb over the comely shape of Getian’s lips, following along sharp cupid’s bow to a dimpled corner. They’re pale, but warm when color has been kissed into them. He observes that lovely face flicker with that backward grind, admiring how seductive Getian is when in the throes of pleasure and how it flushes his delicate features. How hasn’t this bird been snapped up as someone’s permanent mate?
Quincy’s palm slides to cup Getian’s cheek as their gazes meet. He studies light to dark heterochromia and how those colors contrast set back against fan-like lashes. A roughened thumbpad slides beneath one eye in tender caress. ]
I won’t. I can’t. [ he exhales, ] I want you—need you too much to stop.
[ With Getian hinged forward, it’s easy to close the distance between them to meet their lips. A kiss that begins tender for how affection cottons beneath his ribcage but quickly deepens with a sigh. Quincy’s tongue flicks forward, coaxing for Getian to respond and welcome its dominance with a forward roll. A kiss that his hands explore during, warm fingers fanning against Getian’s chest to play with his nipples. Light, teasing touch where he rolls their buds and circle around areola.
With a press of heels, Quincy bucks his hips, slowly rocking his erection to grind into Getian’s cloaca again. With the immediate urgency from a heavy dose of flower milk vented, this time Quincy can pace himself and make love for intimacy’s sake. His cockhead drags against those inner walls, making way for thick veined shaft. Another kiss, another sigh, another rock of twining their bodies together. This time, he wants Getian to really feel and remember his body. ]
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moments of intimacy with quincy feel as simple and easy as breathing. there is an intensity and directness to the man, almost a sort of gravitational pull intrinsic to the immensity of his body, his heart, his soul—being in his orbit, being treated with the gentle, almost reverential ministrations of his hands as no quality or aspect of himself is missed by his gaze… it musters within getian a deep well of emotion that he, lover of music and poetry though he may be, struggles to put well to words. perhaps it’s because these feelings are still those that he is rediscovering after hundreds of years of unuse. within his heart, they had ossified, withering away to the bone that he too would one day be reduced to. out of that unspoken mourning for the people he had lost, however, spring seeds of new life and new possibility. had he thought in those past few centuries that he would feel this treasured again? it is just one of many reasons he is happy that he had made the decision to leave his mountain—it feels so vitally important to feel this sort of connection again, to truly feel more alive than he had, even in the peace of his immortality.
his eyelids flutter and fall half-closed at the faintly rough touch passing over his lips, under his eye. getian breathes out a soft sigh—one that may have been contented, if the very core of him didn’t still crave everything that quincy could give him.
he nods, a faint sense of relief seeming to settle on his features. ) Yes, good—
( the words are cut off, swallowed up by the kiss that follows as quincy closes the small distance between them. getian melts into it, eyes sliding closed. his wings fall past his face to press to the ground on either side of his head—it’s not quite as comfortable or as easy to support his own weight like this, but it’s not impossible, either. his lips mold against quincy’s, warm for the few heartbeats before growing more heated; his lips part willingly to allow his tongue to meet with the other man’s, sliding over and against it before welcoming him into his own mouth. even so soon after his first climax, desire builds steadily to renewed arousal. quincy’s fingers gliding across his chest is an added facet to that mounting pleasure, though the sensation that shoots through him as he begins to tease his nipples between his fingers is one that’s both sharp and novel. not that he’s never had them played with, mind, but hands are always a novelty; the feeling of the hardened buds being rolled between gentle, calloused fingers is so different than that of a mouth and a tongue. it spreads a slightly more complicated pleasure across his chest before welling in his hips in a yearning that causes his inner walls to clench around his shaft. getian gasps softly into their kiss—a gasp that transforms swiftly into a throaty, wanton moan as the wanting tension deep within his hips is so perfectly rewarded by the slow, powerful thrust of the man’s cock. it plunges once more deeply to the core of him, suffusing him with a tantalizing warmth and pleasure that only demands more and more.
rather than with words, getian encourages him on with his body. he kisses the man more deeply, more intently, going as far as to suck lightly on his tongue as his heavy cock drives itself inside of him once more. and whenever quincy’s back arches to do so again, the Miemeng bird rocks his hips back to meet him, and then forward again so that each slow, steady stroke is rewarded with the feeling of all of him—every single inch. the more measured pace of this passionate, sultry dance soon has the bird’s body twitching with small, involuntary twists and shudders, and it becomes commonplace that their prolonged kiss is occasionally interrupted by small, soft moans that getian crushes against quincy’s lips. )
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Another sound rumbles in Quincy's throat when Getian nurses his tongue. Their bodies find each other and match pace, skin slapping and feathers ruffling. Warm palms flatten over Getian's nipples as fingers fan, slide, exploring along his ribcage and slender waist. Sweat breaks along Quincy's hairline anew and dampens into his blond curls, darkening them at the root. In this moment, where they're joined together, he can't help but think he had been a madman for denying them both this with his earlier hesitance. Mating with Getian feels so right, from the way the Miemeng bird's body molds to accommodate his shape to the sultry, delectable way he moans against his lips. Though it had initially been spurred by the flower milk, the way they twine is a mutual expression of desire and affection.
Getian twitches. Shudders. Even in the haze of pleasure, Quincy learns and commits those reactions to memory. His hands slide, exploring the soft valley of the Miemeng bird's chest and waist, memorizing its shape for later contemplation. Then, he grips the small of it, offering support so that Getian doesn't need to put too much pressure on his wings. He is large but he is also light, with fine bones and slender build. It's support Quincy expects he will need, because his essence is rumbling, overflowing, bolstered by their lovemaking and explosive with the heat of his emotions. More essence means more endurance. The snap of his hips doesn't relent even as the minutes tick by. His cockhead pumps deep into Getian's cloaca and makes home there, carving its shape in such a way that Quincy is confident that, if Getian pairs with another man, he won't be satisfied.
It's after a good deal of time has passed that urgency once again begins to punctuate Quincy's kiss. That's when he breaks the kiss to tilt his head and bite Getian's gorgeous throat, suddenly possessed with the need to leave a mark where everyone else can see. Teeth dig into flesh in a rough bite, adding pinching pain to compounding pleasure. His mouth is noisy as he sucks down onto that chosen spot, sucking hard, hungry to bloom color to match the print of his teeth. When his mouth pops off, the love bite he's left behind stands proudly against pale skin. A shock of color that his tongue laves over, satisfaction a wave that bleeds into pleasure. After, Quincy kisses up his jawline, voice hoarse as he softly calls, ]
Getian...
[ Hips move faster, pace of his thrusts increasing as he closes in on his climax for the second time. Quincy sighs, brow peppered with sweat and cheeks flushed with pink as he gazes up at the Miemeng bird with open affection. A hand slides, catching at the nape of Getian's neck so Quincy can guide their faces together, nuzzling their lips and noses, wanting to somehow express how he's feeling without the talent of a songstress or poet. His breath catches and eyelashes flutter as pleasure peaks; it all tumbles down a second time. Though poor Getian, having now weathered Quincy's excellent endurance in earnest, may have finished well before this—cum floods his cloaca no less than the first time. Were he a female bird, he may not be able to avoid getting pregnant with how virile Quincy is. ]
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perhaps it is an overly-grandiose way to think of something simple and personal, but intimacy between lovers, be it a temporary tryst or just one snapshot of a moment in a much longer romance, possessed a similar musicality. the song of voices, broken up and punctuated by needy breaths; the percussion of two bodies, rapt in the joy of becoming one. each is as unique and individual as those that comprised it, and each special in that uniqueness.
quincy… yes, quincy is special.
just as the man commits to memory the shape and sensation of the planes of the bird’s chest and midsection to memory, so too does getian commit to memory the feeling of it. touch… touch is still such an incredible novelty, just how wonderful it is to be held, stroked, caressed, with the context and magnitude of it changing from fingertips to the sweep of one’s palm. he had lived for so long alone—how could he have even understood how starved he was for something he’d never fully had to begin with? it’s not to say that his own kind didn’t comfort and show affection to one another with touch, but it had been so different that it felt like it existed on a different plane altogether. all it does is make him want more of it, inflaming a craving that went far beyond the hollow craving of the body, desperate with arousal and for its release.
ultimately, it’s good forethought that quincy reaches out to help hold getian up in the position he’d ended up in; even if his wings could more easily hold him up, how long would their strength have even held? for a bird whose stamina and endurance had withered, over the centuries he’d spent alone, quincy, empowered by overflowing essence, is like an insurmountable challenge. this is nothing new, after all—if the first human cock that he had ever taken inside of himself had been this man’s, instead of any other’s, why shouldn’t he find himself fucked to his absolute limit? it’s not once, but twice more that getian feels as though he’s reached as far as he can possibly go. he gasps sharply and groans into the shape of quincy’s mouth. his body twists, feathers rippling and fluttering as his inner walls clench down on quincy’s cock as it relentlessly pounds into him. even with that constant motion, potentially displacing whatever spend remained inside of him, all it takes is for getian to be pushed to that limit, to feel himself shake and shudder with yet another orgasm, and then the release of more semen from within himself once again lubricates where they are so closely joined, dripping from his entrance, spattering quincy’s groin and legs before continuing down to where it seeps into the material that makes up this nest. yes… it will certainly be ruined by the time they’re finished, if it isn’t already.
as time passes, getian loses track of the push and pull of his own body’s pleasure, strength dwindling down to where he only has enough to be completely lost to it. it’s only when a spark of urgency disrupts the rhythm and tempo they had settled into that he begins to return more to himself. his eyes blink open in muddled confusion as their kiss breaks; he doesn’t have the presence of mind or wherewithal to deny the way his head is tilted back, baring the unbroken pale sweep of his throat.
the bite, the unrelenting press of fiery pressure that sears into the tender, vulnerable flesh of his throat, startles him fully out of his enervated reverie. his sharp intake of breath is less like a gasp and more like a choke, the powerful muscles of his legs bundling up beneath him as his talons sink deeply into the thatching of the nest. he’s not used to such treatment, especially so suddenly; for just a moment, energy snaps and crackles in the air above their heads. tiny, arcane clouds beginning to form, lightning dancing between their forms, threatening to strike.
but it dissipates. the bite is a rough and wild one, enough so to trigger instincts, but it’s not grievous enough to threaten him. still, his body lags, struggling to shed its tension even as quincy sucks wetly at that wounded spot, causing the pain to take root and then blossom through the column of his throat, intertwining in a bizarre and unprecedented way with the slow, helpless welling of pleasure deep within his hips as quincy’s pace quickens with growing excitement. he only has the energy to let himself be swept away by it. his eyes half-lid, vaguely aware of the upward trek of quincy’s lips and the murmured expression of his name. a rough palm skating across the nape of his neck—their faces bent together—the indistinct intersection of noses, mouths—air shared and passed between one another as ragged breaths draw from the same space. the sharp, sweet ache that radiates from the bite on his neck, that bone-deep satisfaction of how full he feels, both of every inch of quincy’s immense cock and every ounce of spend from between them. regardless of how exhausted he is, quincy has no option but to find every sensitive piece and part of him, sending one more climax over him that is more like being dragged under by the tide than cresting over a wave. it wrings every last ounce of pleasure out of him, the mixture of their cum filling him to the brim and overflowing between them once more.
at this point, getian has collapsed, boneless and gasping for breath, his wings hanging limply at either side of him—were quincy not helping keep him propped up and positioned, he would have slumped, half-insensate, against his chest. really, he had gotten what he wanted. he’d felt that he craved everything quincy could give him, and the man had given him just that, hadn’t he? even if it had pushed him well beyond what he might’ve otherwise thought himself capable of.
though, it would probably content quincy to know that, yes… after being fucked like that, he really is threatening to ruin sleeping with any other man after him. quincy is pretty hard to compare to, in that regard. )