Just got into Storm Hawks this week. Took me less than a day to find a favorite character, and a favorite pairing. So I quickly jotted this down after seeing an episode where Stork put on that helmet thing, and went to his 'happy place'. The mind reeled...
Part 7 of the 100 challenge.
"Hey, Piper. What do you think happens to Stork when he goes to his 'happy place'?"
Oh yes.
Soft and smooth and unending, this is pure paradise.
And it is all his.
Fingers just gently drape along emerald fur. Each hair tingles. Electricity. Pure, violent, electricity.
Just the way he likes it.
There's no need to go further. This, this here, this is more than enough. Soft touches, eye gazes, deep breathes. That's more than enough for him.
Oh, she moves.
Gently, now, gently. Yellow eyes dart around, making sure nothing goes wrong. A slight miscalculation, a slight error, and it could all go wrong.
...No, no. She's just making herself more comfortable. With him. Hands on his shoulders, no pressure. Soft as a feather.
He almost feels sorry that no one else would ever get to feel this way.
Almost.
Just him and her and his precious Condor and that is truly all he needs. Just the touches and the gazes and the breathes and oh.
Oh.
Oh how good it feels to have that breath glide on his neck. It's almost too good.
Almost.
Eyes move, and he knows she's planning to move again. He has to watch her, has to make sure it all goes according to plan.
Weight shifts. Lips come closer.
So it's that, then. Lucky him.
Normally he would not want such a thing, for outside, outside there are germs and bacteria and so many diseases that could be carried from mouth contact.
Not here, though. No, here, she is perfectly clean.
She is perfect inside and outside, but that's beside the point.
What's important now is the actions, and oh, she comes closer. Yes, please. A slight twitch of his eyelid has to pass, but he does close his eyes, and the waiting.
The waiting is always the hardest part. But it is always worth it.
Press. It's good and clean and wholesome and it sends that violent electricity thundering down his weak spine.
It's enough to make him pass out. And he wants more. More and more and more until he just can't take it.
He hopes he doesn't have to beg.
He doesn't have to.
It was simply amazing how just the actions of lips moving around could excite him so. The same with those hands on his shoulders. All of it works together in a beautiful harmony.
He decides to dare, just this once, maybe more later, to raise his hand, and touch her. Touch that hair. Silk, it's enchanting silk, and it moves accordingly under his trembling fingers.
Does she feel that violent electricity? He hopes so. A feeling that good shouldn't be so selfishly his alone.
Finally, she parts. Faces only inches away from each other, with panting air that reminds him of their fights in the sky. The same fights also provoke the beads of sweat that now run down her skin.
He's rather disgusted at himself for licking his lips at that.
Her eyes dart for a moment, before coming to a finished thought. She's going to speak.
Yes, please. Words he so longs to hear, but can only hear in this special place, or in his mind, which can never carry the same tone.
Speak, o muse.
"No idea, Finn. Probably sterilizing the Condor or something."
End.