AN: Emily L'Orange appears to have been the only one to have picked up on one particular line in A New Mask. The teasing resulted in this mess. This was written about two years ago and I didn't think anyone would actually want this. I've been informed otherwise. Enjoy a sad, smutty short from an ace author.

Wildwing stood nervously outside the art studio. Stephanie had called him to let him know that his masks were finished and he found himself looking forward to seeing her again. Her gentle fingers running across his beak had felt amazing and he wanted more.

Steeling his courage, he entered the front portion of the studio and waited at the desk. He smiled when Stephanie came out from the back, paint covering her torn, red t-shirt. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and bits of plaster stuck to the ends of her hair.

"Hey," Wildwing greeted, his voice somehow unsteady.

"Hey!" Stephanie smiled back, her green eyes sparkling like a million stars. "You'll have to excuse the mess. I'm the only one here right now. The rest of the staff is at the studio, installing our latest set of props." She turned, leading him into the depths of her creative domain.

"What'd you make this time?" He watched the confidence of her walk, her long hair swaying with each step, and the cute way she was completely unaware of how attractive the speckled paint covering her attire made her.

"I can't tell you." She threw a charming smile over her shoulder. "We signed a confidentiality contract."

"Okay."

They turned a corner and entered the workroom where she had made the mold of his face. Three hockey masks rested on the table against the far wall.

"I know you said two, but I really couldn't choose which design to go with." A delicate hand waved across them. "You can take only two if you want and I'll keep the third for future reference or you can buy that one too."

He stepped closer to her, inspecting the masks. They all looked to be exactly like what he had asked for.

"Which is your favorite?" he asked.

"Definitely this one." She eagerly snatched up the one closest to her. The face was sculpted into a terrifying scowl that made even Drake DuCaine's mask look friendly. Black lines jagged across it in a semblance of war paint. Other than that, it was styled very similar to the legendary mask he normally wore.

He nodded and bent his head down slightly, inspecting it closer without taking hold of it.

She smiled at him and held it just above his face. At his slight nod, she slipped it on and checked that it was securely in place.

His breath caught in his throat as she once more touched his beak, running her fingers along the edge. He reached up, clasping her hand in his, keeping her hand there.

Stephanie looked deep into his eyes before reaching up with her other hand to remove the mask. "I don't think I like this one after all."

"No?" He released her hand. "A different one, then?"

"Actually," she bit her lower lip, "I think I like you better without a mask."

"Me too," he replied softly, lost in her gaze.

"You've got a really handsome face," she said. "I like working with you."

"Me too." Damn. Was he sounding like a broken record?

"But, if I'm honest with you," she stepped closer, her face nearly touching the end of his beak. A soft hand clasped his and she interlaced their fingers. "It's your ass that I really find attractive."

"Really?" He leaned closer to her and brushed the end of his beak against her cheek.

"Mm-hmm." She nodded, pressing her face into his. His hand was released in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck. Wait a minute, that didn't quite work. She bumped her head against his beak.

Wildwing grunted and backed up a little, keeping his hands on her waist. Not quite sure what to do with someone without a beak or feathers, he tried maneuvering his mouth to her neck and kissing her there.

Stephanie laughed at the sensation of beak against skin, then covered her mouth, afraid her amusement at the strangeness would be considered rude.

"I think this is going to be a little awkward," Wildwing said, reaching back to smooth the feathers along the back of his neck and hide his embarrassment.

"I'm willing to try if you are," she offered, undeterred by their obvious physical differences.

"Okay." He pulled her closer, relishing the warmth of her body against his. Gently, he moved her hand to the side of his beak once more. Sensing his intent, she began lightly scratching at it, sending delicious shivers through his body.

After a moment of teasing, she tried to bend her head under his beak and find his mouth for a kiss. It was next to impossible to get her lips to his mouth because of the broad, upper portion of his bill. Well, kissing was out. She'd have to figure out something else. She pressed his hand against one of her breasts and delighted in the gentle squeezing and stroking he provided.

They leaned against the table, exploring what motions seemed pleasing to the other and guiding the each other's movements. Wildwing reached back to move the masks and other finished projects from the table behind them. She shifted with him leaning forward and pressing her hips into his. His hand slipped as he tried to brace against the table and they both tumbled to the floor. He hit his head against the table and she bumped her cheekbone into his bill.

"Ow," they moaned in unison, rubbing their respective injuries. Wildwing gripped his head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut.

"You know," she said, rubbing her cheek, "Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

"I think you're right." He agreed. "I'll buy all three. Just let Phil know how much and he'll take care of it."

"Okay."

And with that, Wildwing stood and left.