PLEASE READ THIS WARNING: I do not own Rio, Jewel, or any character or theme used in the Rio film. They belong solely to Blue Sky Films and 20th Century Fox.
Yes it's been moved to the M-rated section, so if you don't like sex, please don't read. It's my second time writing lemon (shudders) so… yeah. Not going to elaborate on it…
This chappie's kind of long... just to warn you. It's more of a bunch of filler than anything else, so hope you've got time, because you're in for another ride! Enjoy! ^^
Sometimes you can tell yourself something, over and over like a broken record, something that you can religious believe in, something you think, a vital portion of your mind. And then, when you stumble upon a hurdle that challenges you on that, the pressure is too overwhelming, and you abandon that part of you. Sometimes things look easier to believe in and keep to your heart from afar than nearer.
This is probably the only explanation that could honestly justify my reaction when Rafael, Eva, Nico and Pedro visit.
Blu, being the accomodating and saturatedly innocent bird he is, rushes to greet them like he'd never seen them in thousands of milleniums. Of course, I am the main star of the show, and after prying away, their eyes, attentions and accusations aim and intersect through me, like millions (or 4) pairs of lasers that taste like guilt and incrimination, like concern and indifference.
And then I look into the eyes of Rafael and Eva. What I would've seen were two parents who had just lost one of their children, and were still in the midst of griefing over it. How I would've acted was to be more understanding and concerned for them – since, after all, death is a far more serious injury than mere broken bones. No, scratch that, the impact of death is a far more serious injury than just death. Overwhelming grief is when somebody you love is suddenly gone forever, without a trace, like a bolt from the blue, and with the outright proclamation that you would rather take his/her place.
But when I looked at them, all I saw were the two parents who raised a killer. And for one sorrowfully brief and awfully biased moment, there was a disgusting lack of sympathy for them, nor any trace of understanding for their situation. It was an insane, uncontrollably concentrated ire that made every feather of me shiver violently, like a part of me was on the verge of bursting forth from me. And I wanted revenge.
So the words that flew out of my mouth came like a bolt of lightning, furious like wildfire.
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR THAT CHILD!"
I couldn't honestly blame Blu for stepping in when I charged like an angry bull with its horns aimed fatally at them. I barely hit them, and thank the stars that they were both good-natured enough not to claw at me back while shouting. I didn't even know what came over me, and before it registered in my mind tears were neatly slithering down my face. But I wish they had, somehow. Their shocked glances put me more to shame than anything else. And the worst thing was that I didn't feel it at that time.
"Jewel! Jewel, please, calm down!" Blu exclaimed, using his might to stem me into place as I writhed in his grasp, my narrowed eyes set on intent and attacking these two birds who had spurned the reason for my near-death.
"LET ME RIP THEIR THROATS GODDAMMIT!" I yelled, scratching the table board as I still prepared to lunge at them. It didn't matter that they had worn the most horrified of faces, the full shock of my outburst electrifying them – the only thing shrouding me was the sole emotion of anger, and my brain received no other signal.
"Jewel please! Don't do this! Stop, it's not their fault! Please Jewel, calm down!" Blu half-yelled into my ear, and I could glimpse the tears falling from his cheeks.
I didn't acknowledge this. I was screaming and violently attempting to rip myself from the only fully rational bird I ever knew and loved to bring about the similar revenge that Rafael and Eva's failure of the successive generation had enacted back on them, in the most unfair fashion I knew how. "PAY FOR YOUR PIECE OF SHIT SON'S SINS, BASTARDS!" I yelled uncontrollably, staking the remorse that would crash upon me later. "YOU SHOULD'VE THROWN HIS EGG OFF THE TREE! I'LL KILL YOU I SWEAR TO GOD!"
"Jewel, please stop! Blame me instead, for their sake, Jewel, love, please…"
The fury that coursed through me made me quite literally see red, as if walking around with a crimson blindfold and armed with an axe while being high on insanity. "YOU CAN GO KISS MY ASS WHEN YOU LEARN HOW TO RAISE A SON! I SWEAR YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THE LIFE I'VE BEEN UNDER WITH YOUR FILTHY, PIECE OF SHIT LIVE-"
"Jewel, stop."
I don't know how long it took to calm me down. I remember screaming and swearing with enough expletives to make the most putrid of people disgusted at me, and promising I would rip out their throats and skip rope with them repeatedly. But it was that one statement, after an avalanche of uncalled-for threats and expletives that I really did stop.
Even as I slowly deterioriated until I couldn't say anything more explicit than 'screw you', the scratches that I had inflicted were probably permanent scars, I was back to where I was, with my eyes red from spilling tears and my beak strained from the yelling, and Rafael and Eva with trauma nearly visible on their faces as they looked upon me with a mix of disgust and pity. I deserved it, but in all honesty, I almost got killed. If an emotional outburst doesn't equate to all the feelings that I had repressed within myself, then I didn't know what did.
Sometimes, emotions ruin everything. Logic is clearly the only thing that should and would stand against everything else, since rationale is what every single thing on earth would boil down to. It's what drives our state of mind and what our whole existentialism is founded upon. Yet what is arguable the essence of human nature and simultaneously the stupid, ill-concieved Achilles heel of every single person and bird on the planet is what breaks this fundamental down.
Sometimes your own selfish ambitions, desires and emotions are enough to tear down your ardent beliefs, and no matter what you tell yourself, all it takes is one heat of the moment to screw that up.
I told myself that I would always keep Rafael and Eva in my heart and I would not blame them for their dickwad of a son. I told myself that anything capable of thinking for itself has only itself to blame for its actions. Blame the object, not the creator.
But all it took was the sight of them to remind me of the very person who I would despise forever while he was rolling in his grave, and I attacked. In my mind, it was righteous, pure fury at their utter, crushing failure to raise a child, and their ability to spawn a ticket to my death. It was one incident that blanketed my entire realm, engulfing everything else in darkness away from me, and it took one belief that I held. Admittedly it was something I didn't cling on to dear life, but it was still part of me that was chipped away. And that was painful enough.
Now because of that, I had lunged myself at them, without the decency to feel sorry except only until now.
Now that I look at them, I was at a loss of words. I had pretty much shut them off from whatever they were attempting to say, as if showing them that their apology was unable to restore balance between us, and ultimately futile. There was a very long, awkward silence as Nico, Pedro, Rafael and Eva had their eyes fixated expectantly on me, while I sat there in the wings of my mate, shivering as if I were in Siberia, whimpering like a puppy kicked over and over again and bawling my eyes out like an infant.
It would have been better if they all just left and let me be. Perhaps it would have been, for them to exit my life and the hemisphere of destruction that I had set up around myself. That was what logic dictated and what would have led to a better scenario.
But the straw that broke the camel's back was that Rafael stood forward, slowly at first, hesitant about stepping into a pool of acid, before he plunged and went over to me, and did the unthinkable.
"Jewel, I… I'm sorry. I know my son… he… well he tried to kill you. I accept that, and I, well deeply resent that."
He scratched his forehead sheepishly, in a way that wasn't reflective of that of a father talking to his son's murder victim, but like a father giving a sex talk. It's like having a murderer for his son was not inherently in his nature, but rather thrust upon him. I guess it was at that point the sympathy seeped back into me, but in no way did it displace the anger within me; it merely diluted it.
"I don't quite know what to say, or how to say how sorry I really am. You and Blu, you are meu amigos you know that? We're the only people who actually respect each others' sanctity of life and treat each other like equals. But as a father, I killed you. I killed you and Blu, and in the process I lost… a son. And all that because I didn't raise him well enough.
"He was my son, and I knew him best. Eva and I knew him best. We could've kept him under control, but… we let this happen. And now he's gone, and you're in bad shape. We're… truly sorry. I wish I could offer you more than our apologies to compensate it… other than the corpse of our son."
Rafael cleared his throat. It was more painful to watch than having to sit through a surgery without anaesthesia.
"I guess it's what they say. Blame the creator, not the object. So, Jewel… I'm sorry for all this. I… I don't quite know what else to say…"
Every part of me screamed that Rafael shouldn't have blamed himself, and that wasn't his fault that I almost died. This is exactly what I never wanted to occur within my life – to think that all grown-ups are responsible for their succeeding generation, and that all grown-ups should pay the price for the mistakes of their children. And yet I had just threw myself at him for that very reason.
At that point, Rafael's voice trailed away and never returned, like a failure of a boomerang. It was as if he was on the verge of breaking down and crumbling, like a poorly built architecture with its cornerstone precariously jutting out where it shouldn't have been. He stepped away, and he fell into his own mate's wings, where he cried his heart out, the sobs drowning the entire room as they poured out from his mouth.
Blu seemed to have been psychic the entire time. "Rafael," he called out, letting me go slowly before releasing me like a reverse mousetrap hinge as he realised that I could stand independently. He closed the distance between him and the two Toucans, while maintaining his sincerely concerned expression that had its attention now directed to his friend.
"Eva… Rafael, this isn't your fault. Believe me. Jewel, she… she's just a little upset, that's all, so that's why she… lost it. D… Don't blame yourselves, please, if you'd like, it's my fault, I… I just left her alone, and then it was all just…"
"No, Blu," Eva spoke, her voice thick with Portuguese accent and honey-viscous sorrow. "It's... okay. I… I think that I should… atone for my child's mistake, since he's not here to do it."
"There's no mistake. He tried to murder Jewel, and he's dead. There's… nothing else to be done. But we're sorry. I'm sorry, that Jewel…" –Blu looked at me, as if I had transformed into a werewolf in front of him- "that Jewel did this."
"She shouldn't be," Rafael interjected, and that shut Blu up, as he held his mouth agape before closing it, lost for words.
"I am sorry," I muttered under my breath, but audibly enough for Eva to barely pick it up. "I'm… sorry for doing all that, Rafael, Eva, I just couldn't… control myself. I really couldn't. And… you lost a son. I broke some bones. That's… vastly different. And me trying to… kill you isn't going to help. I… I don't know what to say-"
"I don't blame you for trying to attack me," Eva said, blunt as a butterknife, and I cringed. "We only have ourselves to blame. We… deserved it, in some way. We raised him, after all… it was our mistake that he committed. And we apologise for that… that could've cost you your life."
"No," I said, trying to stand up, trying to be strong and unwavering, but still under the guise of a façade. "Don't say that. It's my fault. I shouldn't have attacked you. Honestly, I…" –I hated tears, why did they have to betray us at the worst times possible? The sadness that pricked you suddenly expands for no reason whatsoever- "I… It's not your fault. I'm here… and he, he's dead. It was so… *sniff* it was insensitive of me to do that. I don't know what even got over me, I just… just…"
"No, it's okay. We deserved it… all of it," Rafael sighed, putting his wing around Eva, the tremendous guilt that I knew they didn't deserve descending upon them. It made me sick, that I couldn't even bring my point across without interruption from any, just one external force. "And we… we should be to blame, for everything. We should be the ones one that ground, we should be the one suffering… we should be the ones dead."
At that point I don't know what had been inflating within me all this while, but it had been intangible to me, and yet in one full burst, it exploded from within me. All the indignation and fury of it all, that such fundamental yet utterly stupid, absurd truths had caused me and these two innocent Toucans so much grief and pain. Perhaps at that point I had realised that the terror that children had pose to the rest of the society didn't halt at death. It lived it perpetually to haunt the world, regardless of their actual involvements in the crime.
In other words, they could get away destroying the familial circles and relationships of many without any consequences whatsoever, and leave everybody in its path, traumatized. It simply made me sick to the stomach.
"No… it's… not like that… AT ALL!"
I couldn't swallow it all. With tears veiled in my eyes, the joints in my talons buckled, and with my limp wings supporting me, I retched onto the table until there was nothing else in my stomach.
And as I heard Blu cry out my name, rushing by my side, tipping from the fence to desert Rafael and Eva in their grief, the only thing I could do was to wail and cry.
"I'm sorry, Rafael… I'm sorry Eva… I… I just… just… fuck life." I spat in my tears.
If Rafael and Eva hadn't been our friends, or if they hadn't possessed such a divinely hospitable and sympathetic attitudes towards us as a fragile, couple of chained-together birds, they would absolutely severed our ties. Either due to the sheer, unbridled infuriation and incrimination of us having killed their beloved, eldest child, or due to the overwhelming guilt and grief that they had virtually almsost murdered me, and would have their shame repel themselves away from me. Either way, the only logical thing was that we would never see each others' faces ever again.
But because our friendship was more sentient than a Bible, it withstood. And as much as I love Rafael and Eva, this frankly frightened me to death. All of it seemed awkward, unfitting, serratedly jarring and most of all, horrifying. We would both have the same nightmare and guilt haunt each other reciprocally for the rest of their lives. It equated to more fights, more tension, more breaks between the strings that bonded us together, and more guilt for a crime we didn't commit. It would just whittle us away, until we were merely splinters of our former selves, and our friendship would be forever irreparable.
That was the last time I had espied them – even as my injuries recovered, my flight strength recuperated, and the breaks in my bones sealed, they had not made a second hospitable visit. It had taken an entire month- 30 days of excruciating pain as I remained physically imprisoned in my own, unmoving piece of shit body that had been smashed to pieces by a mere, goddamn child.
You know what being bed-ridden feels like? It's like being strapped down, without the rope burn in exchange for your innards set ablaze and discomfort like a nagging sensation that sheened around your body. Blu is merely like morphine, dulling the pain but never quite eradicating its presence, and once gone, allows the burning agony to engulf you once more. Even in these 30 days, it had far from felt like it was actually dissipating, at times even peaking at zenith levels of pain. Needless to say, it had evoked countless nights of hoarse screaming, uncontrollable writhing and tension of the body, and extending whatever period of projected recovery had been set in front of me. It was like the more I reacted and struggled against the hard road that was put out in front of me, and the more I insisted on perservering instead of succumbing to it emotionally, the tougher it was for me.
For a fall so fatal, my wings are almost permanently dysfunctional. According to Blu I had screamed loud enough to gain the curious stares of every single other avian patient within the clinic, and had to be restrained by some of the security guards and consoled by Blu for nearly the entire day before my fury had been extinguished. And I swear I overheard Tulio mutter to himself with a somber look on his face, "It'll take way too much to convince this one here, ay-yay-yay…"
But the fact remained that time spent grounded – and time spent bedridden, invaded by fever bugs, and subject to being physically manipulated by human, untrustworthy hands – was spent wallowing in torture and imprisonment from that sweet taste of freedom. How many times was I going to be denied of this?
Fortunately, the last time I had broken my wing, it had taken no less than 3 days before I was as good as ever. And so while the damage inflicted was multiple times over more intense than a mere cage landing on it, my aerial abilities returned to me, a boomerang returning faithfully to its owner as nature demanded.
Of course, nature demands many other things, most of which are understatedly unappealing to everybody else. But who the hell cares, right?
It's been a month. But it's been worth it.
By the time Tulio had stripped off my bandages, checked for any sustaining injuries for the hundred-and-thirty-seventh time (boredom has its neutral perks, come one come all, for a jaw-droppingly low price of a full body onslaught of pain and agony) and said, "Well… I think Jewel will be all set to sail, I guess but be sure to be ca-", I was out the window, soaring away into the azure canopy enveloping the atmosphere once more and feeling the wind rush through my feathers once more, my mate entailing me as he called my name.
"Woohoo!" I yelled into the wind, screaming in pure ecstasy with the invisible, familiar force sailing from beneath my feathers. "I'm freeeeeee!"
These are the days and the times that I would love to cherish and experience for the rest of my life – to feel my own wings beating and guiding me forward, the momentum slicing me through the still air and my mate with me always. I would laugh like I was insane, when I was in actual fact injected with sheer adrenaline, and yell –where it would be drowned in my flight, a whisper in the wind. But all that I would feel was the ecstasy that seared through me with the air streaking past me... and with that final piece of puzzle came in the form of one cerulean Macaw – one klutzy and naïve one, but gentle and loving – that carried an ember of endearment and completion with me. That my life would never be haunted by loneliness and could be entrusted into the wings of someone my heart was yanked towards, like twin gravitational fields that were free to roam this earth ceaselessly, boundlessly.
The aerial acrobatics that I conducted, with Blu watching me with a careful yet amused expression, were the very things I lived for, the very things that I would aspire for the rest of my life – that right to own the sky and act like you didn't care, act like the world's your oyster, and to soar towards that pearl no matter how impossible it seemed.
The smell of tropical breeze and the fresh jungle wafting around me like a swirling smoke vortex of aroma; the glorious and dazzling dawn that bleeds its golden crimson in the sky to the brilliant and serene pitch-black dusk under the radiant disc of the moon; the taste of Blu lingering on my tongue after we kiss, and the warmth of his body upon mine as he tightly embraces me, like two pieces of a heart closing the distance. These are the moments I want to treasure until I perish, and the moments I will never tire of experiencing. And that is a life I, as with everybody else, am entitled to. And it's that simple. Nothing else – just the forest to be mine to wander freely and without a care in the world.
So why is it the life that everybody is stopping me from having?
There is probably only one beneficial thing that emerged from my state of immobility, and even that was as temporary as freedom.
Blu, being the cautious and exaggeratedly child-like lovebird he is, went out of his way to ensure my safety in every way possible, even accompanying me to… let nature take its course, at one point. (His face remained as red as a tomato for the rest of that day) He fed me, tucked me to bed, constantly asked if I needed anything (I gave up counting on the 12th day, on the 267th time) and almost never left my side, sans when I stated my necessity of privacy or when Linda called Blu over to speak to him. Despite the slight closeness equating to discomfort, the way he tended to me spoke valleys of his love for me, with all the doubt that he would abandon me in my trials and difficulties evaporated like mist in the air.
A huge, gargantuan bonus that came attached to this multiplied intensity of vigilance and gentleness from Blu was the whole thing about a blazing, horror-imbued family of his – the topic never reached the surface. Besides, how was one expected to be capable of, well, intercourse, in the condition of having glass mantled over my bones rather than feathers? The main perk of having a mate who was previously hungry to ignite the familial flame lash of generations of other Macaws suddenly having every iota of energy invested into your comfort was that one prioritised concept drowned out everything else, no matter how integral it was to your life – when your love was on line, you would do anything to save it in spite of the consequences.
Then again, nothing quite lasts forever.
Nevertheless, having been officially discharged and free to roam the earth as I had been procreated to do, Blu's cautious hold on me is as firm as it has always been. Even as I take my extensive flight of newfound liberation through the open air, he eventually calls me down in the irrational fear that I was over-exerting my body, and that I was still as fragile as paper. And for the next few days he had been indenting lines to fetter me to place and restricting my freedom.
Even while medically and scientifically I had been rejuvenated and strengthened once again, suddenly I was as guarded as a national treasure – never permitted to stray from Blu's side, as he tended to me in feeding, swallowed insomnia as I slept soundly, and tensed almost bitterly against Nico and Pedro as they made friendly visits. And every time they were obliged to say, "Rafael and Eva… say hi… and um, sorry… and stuff…", time seemed to stretch to infinity, the silence suddenly sharpening to pierce everybody through the hearts, as they struggled to utter the words.
Of course they would, in any case, Rafael and Eva were trying desperately to rebuild their family in the midst of their 17-18 rambunctious hatchlings who were either too indifferent to give a shit about it, or too stricken with grief over the death of their bloodlined playmate to be consoled. It was probably hell for the two innocent Toucans trying to overcome the hurdle of sorrow erected by their own child and simultaneously glue their family back together again. And needless to say, no strength in battalions and quadrons would be able to fix it back again, unless the hand of God touched them.
And needless to say, by the time they finished, I would be fighting back the ferocious tears threatening to spill from me.
If this doesn't convince you about the damage families can do, I don't know what the hell does.
In any case, evidently love is a double-edged sword. Being addicted to the one thing that immediately fills you to the brim with glee by the sound of his name and having his presence enact as a more potent drug than cocaine entailed several other consequences. A presence that failed to blend with yours to morph into one, singular, Taoism-esque identity was nearly parasital without attached strings of love that occupied space and engulfed your life like black flames.
So here I was, gliding through the air with my mate by my side, our wings practically brushing past each other, and flying with the relative speed of snails. Somehow I understood that all this unnecessary caution and love smothered upon me like a pillow was a sure mark of Blu's saturated love for me, but it was like asking for honey but ingesting sugar instead. It was so saturatedly sickening and even uncomfortable to a certain degree. And the worst thing was, some part of me – a part of me that I wished on every star to be a liar, yet was the essence of me – some part of me told me that all of this was truly necessary for me.
Blu made it a point to establish our nest-cum-hollow within the greatest proximity of that of a giant mango tree that housed a plethora of juicy, fresh, ecstasy-laden fruits that would make even the most stoic of birds melt by the sensation that wrapped around their tongues. Yet it demanded a compromise that was close enough to hisk a dying a bird to Tulio's aviary in the dire emergency of someone's life on the line.
While normally I would object and complain of the compromise that weared both advantages thin, the distance saved my life, so I shall remain silent.
As we perched ourselves upon the tree, Blu nearly immediately lunged his body upon one particularly large, bright orangey mango tempting us the moment it entered our lines of vision. It was rather comical, to see him struggle as his body writhed and his beak relentlessly pecked against the stem, not unlike a woodpecker. A chuckle involuntarily escaped my beak as his eyes met mine and the corners of his beak curled up into a klutzy, goofy smile before his concentration was averted back to dislodging the obstinate fruit, his wings fluttering frantically at war.
And that's when I heard an alto voice call out.
"…are you sure, love? I mean I…"
My trance broke as I stared in the direction of my lovebird, only to realise he had not been the one to utter those words, still engrossed in snapping the stem of our breakfast for the day.
Instinctively my eyes began to dart around the place, until I detect the source of the voice, where on the branch directly below us, 90 degrees to the left, two Hyacinth Macaws were perched, wings and feathers intertwined around each other's bodies horizontal to the branch, their faces plastered together and their breaths fast and short. The male counterpart of the couple wore a concerned, anxious expression that questioned some sort of limits, until his lover plunged her beak and tongue straight into his, and his face melted into pure pleasure, his wings exploring her body and lingering on the lower areas. And it wasn't until I managed to regain the capability to think again that I realised that they were doing.
The rational part of me threw up buckets of bile, repulsed away by such an unsightly, public intimacy. In the human world outside, normally such indecency without any regard for privacy was condemned by the general society – perhaps not in Rio of course (good luck wandering through a beach without catching some dude balls deep in somebody else) but in general. Nobody ordered a public showing of pornography, no thanks.
But somehow, my curiosity rooted me to the spot, my eyes unable to peel away from this outright display of love. Even with the frankly mortifyingly loud, occasional moan and groan captured in the aural range miles away, and with their bodies writhing like snakes over a carcass, somehow I was attracted to the sight. The heat that rippled through my body whenever Blu and I… indulged in passion, tickled the seams of my feathers, and I clacked the edges of my beak together firmly.
It seemed like milleniums before they broke their kiss, and the female stared into the male, and even from up here, the glint in her eyes that was injected with white-hot lust did not escape me.
"Shhhh, babe. Less talk, more of me," she whispered in his ear, a husky tone layered over her voice with the amplification of a not-so-controlled volume, speaking valleys of her bottled hormones within her body.
"But… people could be watching, no? And besides-"
"No buts… except ours, 'course. There's no one watching" –except for the whole damn jungle probably obscured from view, but considering this was the Amazon…- "and we're alone… and you know what I want now? You."
Another moment later, and their beaks converged once more, sloppy kissing sounds emitting from where they laid. Their bodies began to shift once more, and entaglement of feathers that merged two into one, like a physical embodiment of love.
If I ever had to explain why I remained there, my talons frozen to the bark of the branch as I witnessed the rest of this spectacle of eroticism, it would be fully staked upon my unwavering curiosity, magnetically drawn to these two passionate lovers.
As the female one spread her talons and her mate plunged his lower torso into hers, there was an unearthly scream that could have torn the heavens, one so unadulteratedly ear-piercing that it could have turned the heads of the deaf halfway across the globe. And then, quite literally, they fucked like I would've never imagined it to be like. It seemed like they could never run out of energy at all.
"Ahh… AHHH! Ah, oh my god… yes, like that, do it like that… ah, AHHH!" The female screams as she thrust repeatedly into her mate, her counterpart wrenching his face together and emitting groans and screams of his own. It was like he had been slashed –but without the pain, instead with the pure pleasure and passion that was absent from anywhere but live, personal experiences. Their bodies writhed wildly, like they had been possessed by the demons of lust, and their cries reverberating into the atmosphere like they were strained by air, and like they were without a care in the world. FREE. Free like two birds who owned the sky without a care in the world. Free of judgement or chains.
"That's it… harder… faster… c'mon baby, ride it, ride it! YES! MMMM!" the male cries, as even he succumbs to the sensation that I witness.
"Oh… oh my god… mmmm… that's it, love, that's it… oh, OOOOOOH!" The screams repeated itself, mirroring back and forth with increasing volumes and intense passions to the point where the noises drowned out themselves into one blurry cloud of ecstasy.
It was like that, for an awkwardly long time, seeing them moan and thrust and buck their lower, nether most sensitive parts against each other, offered like altar sacrifices on that tree. It was as primal and unreserved as imagination could take you, to the point where their consistent thrusting and moans (not to mention unreserved explicy) were supersonic, fast and loud for the world to declare.
And with one harmonized "AHHHHHHH!" (dear God what is wrong with me) they both… climaxed into one another, for lack of better word. It was that one unrestrained belt of blissful lucidity that coursed through them and was expelled into the atmosphere around them that I knew.
Somehow the whole notion of sex never more than slightly intrigued me – this being the only reaction invoked other than the magnitude of the devastation one simple act could cause to anybody. It was something that I had flippantly dismissed in the past to be an improbable event to befall upon me - but now that I had witnessed for the first time (I am not as dirty-minded as you make me out to be, in any case), the full fascination of it all piqued within me. Was it as passionate and pervaded with love as conventionalities made it out to be, and how the most closely-knit and intimate of lovers displayed it to be like?
The technicality of sex was, as explained to me, the mere pressing of cloaca together – and now that was to elicit such an electrifyingly lust-filled reaction from both parties? How was this supposedly the most romantic, most passion-imbued ritual of mates? The initial perception that flashed across my face was the equating of sex to that of the innocence of shaking wings. It seemed absurd that it could catalyse such an intense… session, to say the least, completely unhidden from my vision, and with the ferocity that burned like a thousand suns.
It must have been eternities peering at this queer couple, engaging in such a peculiar activity that made hearts go wild, minds consumed as virtual fireworks erupted in their heads, and bodies melting with every rippled of pleasure. It was an animalistic and primal sight, yet one that felt so raw and natural that it kept my eyes glued to them, as their pelves thrust against themselves, with the look of percieved anguish written across their faces disguised as furious passion, and they screamed and moaned to the skies above without restraint.
Such an experience of feeling eluded me (mainly because, it was the first step to self-inflicting doom?), and naturally an ember of curiosity ignited within me. Perhaps there was a method of which copulation could occur without leading to zygote inception, just the pure, unadulterated experience of sex grinding me and cleansing me. Perhaps I could experience this enpowered and mystical sensation that had been the hallmark of mates' bonds with each other. Was it as pleasurable as everybody made it out to be? Somehow the lusts that I harboured for Blu at times… somehow they raged within me but never quite swallowed me whole.
Now I wasn't so sure. Now perhaps the desire and the pique that spiked within me, previously contained and minimized, was now stimulated within me, taking on a more monstrous form, threatening to shatter the bottle it had been kept it and to be freed from its cage. Now the urge bristled through my body, tempting me to liberate my inner lusts to him.
And as much as that exhilarated me and injected me with ecstasy, fear shrouded over me. Plus, within about the same balance and magnitude of that, it was simultaneously similar to that of the form of true love.
It wasn't until I felt Blu's feathers brush against mine did I realise, with an electric jolt surging through my body, that he had been by my side, watching the whole time, two mangoes now cradled like an infant in his wings – both of which small enough to fit into his arms like jigsaw pieces.
The moment my eyes met his, his stoic, unwavering expression melted into hot, furious shame, crimson spreading all over his face. "Should… should we go now?" he asked sheepishly, his eyes desperately floating away to avert mine.
"…we should." I replied, and with him next to me, we fluttered off in unison with the cry of love reverberating into the distance behind us.
Reviews please? Just to, well, let me know how I'm doing and stuff… writing's a bit rusty, unfortunately… sigh.
Guys. I forgot to make this M-rated the moment I wrote that scene. Guys. What's wrong with me.
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