~ one ~
.
"Oh God!" Janos exclaimed before covering his mouth. It wasn't an expression of ecstasy.
Admittedly, it wasn't wholly Vorador's fault - sometimes his sire was just irresistible and the urge to grab him and ravage him thoroughly would not be ignored. Still, sometimes the results were less than perfect. "I - I'll get a rod. And bandages."
"Mmhm," Janos half-answered, muffled by his hand, following up the response with another groan of agony as he involuntarily flinched.
Slamming someone up against the wall in a fit of passion was all well and good in human on human relationships. Even in once-human on human relationships, if both were careful about each others' strength.
Didn't work quite so well if one's partner had extra limbs on their back.
Breakable limbs.
.
~ two ~
.
"Ah, ah - oh God, oh - gah!" Janos exclaimed before narrowing his eyes at Vorador who, for all his efforts, wasn't quite managing to resist laughter.
It helped that it almost definitely wasn't his fault this time. Janos had almost got used to sex indoors - Vorador understood full well the practicality of outdoor sex for winged beings - but low ceilings in Vorador's mansion and forgetting to hold onto something meant one unfortunate wing-flap had him hitting the roof. Literally.
Still, a bruised ego and bruised head were easier to nurse than a broken wing. Beautiful black-feathered bastards were almost more trouble than they were worth.
Almost.
.
~ three ~
.
"God damn it!" Vorador's words this time, not Janos', and the direction of apologies had changed accordingly.
Another accident, and one they probably should have been better prepared for after discovering some of the unfortunate side-effects of Vorador's turning.
Feathers could trap more than air. They could trap water.
Janos still had a creative streak though, one he could extend to resolving their current issue; and after draping a towel on the floor to absorb any further moisture leftover from his bath he was only too keen to apologise on his knees.
One way or not, there were advantages to this position too.
.
~ four ~
.
No words this time. Just laughter.
It might have been another embarrassment, only Janos was insistent on bringing Vorador with him as the ill balance caused by his wings led to his tumbling off Vorador's couch. What might have been a humiliation was only a joke and bruise instead, and courtesy of Vorador's taste in plush rugs, scarcely a bruise at that.
Vorador was rarely more attractive than when humour gave life to his eyes.
"I could eat that laugh of yours," Vorador declared before apparently attempting, devouring Janos with lips and tongue.
Sometimes the wings weren't so bad.
.
~ and one time they didn't ~
.
"Admit you broke the vase and I'll stop," Janos said, grinning wickedly as he ran the feather over the base of Vorador's foot.
It was Vorador's fault - not just for breaking the vase, but for being foolish enough to trust someone with easy access to feathers to unlock the shackles he'd been testing for the pantry. Apparently his bastard of a sire had noticed his inability to repress a snicker whenever he'd had his legs over Janos' shoulders and his feet pressed against the wings as they flickered away.
"I can do this all night," Janos reminded, parting Vorador's toes forcefully and dragging the feather between them, torturing the still-delicate skin.
"You don't have the energy to sit there that long," Vorador taunted, grinning back, fangs on full display.
"Perhaps," Janos said in turn, looking up with a glint that would have made Vorador hard in an instant if he weren't already. "But I'm sure I can find other places to tickle."