crossmyheartandhope | Monster Bingo 3.0 Overflow

[She twitches, the tickle prompting a sigh]

What's up?

[The feather trails sloooowly upward, from the back of her knee and on toward her thigh. His other hand has resumed its motion again, ruffling idly through the feathers of her wings]

[Her breath puffs out at the dual stimulation, and she only barely muffles a whine]

--Like--you don't know.

Oh yeah? I do?

[The feather trails higher and higher - skirts along the inside of both one thigh and then the other]

Could spell it out, maybe. Make sure I'm sure.

[The fingers on the wing dig in a little more - massaging lightly more than petting, now]

Cross...

[Her muscles flex under the feather, and she shivers closer--presses back into the feel of his fingers with a heavier breath]

You--you had wings, didn't you? You--know how it feels...

Yeah... I remember.

[His voice sounds a little breathless; he hasn't stopped the slow massage of her wing]

It was really - something.

[The feather creeps up and up - makes idle patterns on her inner thigh. Then it creeps a little higher still and traces along the seam of her panties, touch light]

Yes... Feels like-- I want--

[She lets out a definite whine this time, unsubtly arching into his touch. The feather comes away from her panties damp with arousal, and her knees wobble as she leans back into him]

[The hand that's massaging her wing works its way to the other, slow and thorough - kneads at the base of it]

Like you want...?

[The feather returns for another swipe, just as light as before]

[This time she groans, glancing back to him, face dark and glasses fogged]

Want you... To touch me...or...

[Another shiver and she ducks her head, obviously self-conscious as she squirms against him]

[His breath catches, at the expression on her face - at the way her glasses are fogged. His hand keeps up that same, pointed kneading, though it switches to the base of the other wing]

Or...?

[Between her legs, the feather begins a teasing back and forth, flicking softly along the seam of her panties - a constant now, without pulling back between the swipes]

A-anything... Everything. When you touch my wings--my back--

[The words break off into another low cry, her voice dry and crackly as the crunch of autumn leaves. All the while her hips chase helplessly after each swipe of the feather between her legs, tail feathers rising to brush back against him.

Her talons flex, hands beginning to run restlessly over her body, and it is an obvious effort for her to keep even that still under his attentions. Perhaps it's no surprise when she gives up on explaining herself, flush roiling hot and well past the neckline of her costume]

Just--take me, please--

God, lookit you. You're so pretty like this.

[His voice is soft and a little awed; the hand on her wing strokes through the feathers again, soft and soothing (?). That feather between her legs maintains its pace, steady flicks that would have been firm if they were applied with anything but a feather]

Guess it's about time we got outta here, huh?

But before we do... you mind if we do one more thing?

[Definitely not soothing, and she makes a little whimper of protest--whether at the statement or at the continued teasing is hard to tell. What's obvious is how she leans further into his touch and squirms against him, as if she can't bear to be even this far apart]

What--what do you want me to do...?

I mean... we are in the photo booth already.

[The feather edges forward, searching for the outline of that sensitive nub, through the fabric of the panties. His nails, short and blunt, scratch at the base of her wing]

Could do one more round of pics, if you wanna. S'kinda hard to see your face from back here.

[He doesn't need to see to catch the fresh flush that goes through her, skin and feather alike raising with self-conscious heat]

You want pictures? ...Of us? L-like this?

[Which seems like it should be impetus enough to at least attempt to slow her movements; instead she hitches more into that too-light brush of the feather--arches back squarely against his front with a shaky breath]

I - I mean.

[He flushes, too - ducks his head, a little, embarrassed enough at being called out that his fingers falter to a stop]

It'll only get our faces anyways, right? So it ain't like it's gonna be - y'know.

And, like - only if you wanna. If you ain't feeling it, we can skip it and head out.

[Turns to glance at him over her shoulder, eyes still a little glazed]

...I mean. If that's the picture you want, then...

[She flushes more, embarrassed but not uninterested]

I don't mind, if it's with you.

[He flushes darker - bites at his lip, and nods]

Okay, then.

Okay. Should we, like...?

[She turns a little more, licking her lips, then reaches back for his waist best she can to pull him closer]

...You brought it up in the first place. So--what do you wanna see? When you look at the picture later, what do you wanna think of?

[He shivers, hard - goes where he's guided, pressing up against her]

I wanna see what kinda face you're making.

[His hand comes up again, running along the outer line of her wing]

So just - look straight ahead. And do what you're doing. And in a minute, I'll ask you to get the countdown going.

[Her eyes lid and she drops her head, flush increasing. This close, he can likely tell the tremble through her frame, or the anticipatory press back into him as he runs back over her wing]

...Okay. I'll--okay.

...okay.

Cool. Then - cool.

[He hesitates a beat - another, flustered now that it comes down to it]

[At last, careful, he leans in to kiss along the line of her neck as his hand goes back to the base of her wing, kneading softly]

[She warbles out a long sigh, head tipping and wing flexing to give him better access--apparently any apprehensions about fooling around in the photo booth have faded in the face of neck kisses]

[The better access is an invitation if he's ever seen one, so he keeps up the kisses, soft and light]

[Between her legs, the feather creeps upward again, to find the seam of her panties - begins that same flicking motion, as his other hand pets at her wing]

[A fluttery whimper as he continues that mix of very present and barely there contact, and it's not long before her hips fall back into an easy rhythm, nudging up towards the feather and back to close the scant distance between them. The hand at his hip stays there despite the awkward angle, holding gently just to keep the contact]

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