a night less cold
hawks | takami keigo x reader
word count: ~7.8k
happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?
warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink
a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!!
thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕
Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle.
It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.
It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.
The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well.
And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously.
The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.
December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.
As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly.
You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.
“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”
Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”
Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.
He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back.
“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”
“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”
“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”
“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”
Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?”
“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”
He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”
That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.
“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”
Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.
It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—
Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort.
You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.
“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.
“Feels like it.”
You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day.
A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.
Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.
Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed.
“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”
You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”
Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.
“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.
It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.
He just wanted to rest.
Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.
He couldn’t rest most of the time.
His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.
But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.
It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.
It hardly was.
Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift.
When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do.
He had the privilege of taking care of you.
You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.
You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”
“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”
“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”
Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.
He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were.
Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.
As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.
“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”
You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were.
“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles.
Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix.
You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.
The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.
Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work.
It proved to not just be a dry throat.
As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.
As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.
The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts.
The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.
Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull.
After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.
The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report.
All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.
It wasn’t even noon yet.
You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home.
Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.
You had time, you resolved, you could fix this.
Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.
You couldn’t be.
The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.
As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills.
Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.
You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.
You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness.
Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.
The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.
Was pouring water always this hard?
You ignored the thought.
Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.
(As if you weren’t already burning up.)
You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.
You just needed a quick nap.
As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.
Your dreams were sordid.
Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound made your ears burn.
You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality.
The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—
“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea.
Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock—
Tap, tap, tap, tap—
As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.
Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.
His party was starting within the hour.
You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold.
Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.
Your shaking hands undid the latch.
You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes—
As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes—
Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips.
“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.
“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”
You prayed your excuse would be enough.
“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.
You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—
But Keigo was always faster.
He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.
“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.
“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”
Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.
You both stilled.
You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on.
“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”
“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”
That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.
Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.
“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.
Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”
Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.
Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize.
“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”
You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.
Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.
“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”
“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”
Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.
You were supposed to be on his arm—
Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.
“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“
It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.
“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you.
Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.
He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”
That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.
“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”
You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.
Keigo’s heart hurt.
His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.
He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.
You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.
His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.
“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.
“But it’s your birthday—”
“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”
That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.
“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”
Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.
“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”
Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective.
Why is he being so insistent?
“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”
That might’ve been too much.
Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way.
And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.
You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—
“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head.
You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.
“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.
“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”
You were both silent for a while.
The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.
His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.
You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.
“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”
Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets.
He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it.
You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.
Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”
Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.
You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.
“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”
“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”
You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.
“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”
“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”
He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.
Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?
“A lot. It’s just a lot.”
“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering.
Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.
“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”
It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—
Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.
“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”
“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”
You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.
“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”
You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.
“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”
You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise.
You both wrapped up the other in an instant.
Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.
“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”
“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair.
“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”
Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms.
“Are you sure?”
You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.
“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”
And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.
Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach.
Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.
Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.
He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.
The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere.
You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.
The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze.
There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized.
Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt.
“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”
“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”
“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”
Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.
Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”
You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.
Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.
His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.
Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself.
Either way, Keigo was grateful for it.
You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.
Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.
You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.
Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.
“Happy birthday, love.”
Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips.
You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.
“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”
Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw.
Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.
The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.
It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.
Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake.
Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.
You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.
Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring.
“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips.
“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”
And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”
You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.
Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind.
If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.
The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.
Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.
“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.
Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”
“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”
Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.
“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”
“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”
“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you.
“But it’s your birthday— “
Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”
You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty.
There wasn’t even one.
“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”
Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.
“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”
You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”
Keigo needed no other command.
You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.
That day didn’t feel like that.
“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”
The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.
“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”
You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways.
That was your privilege.
Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.
There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves.
That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.
He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.
Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.
You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.
He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.
Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.
Keigo stole it back quickly.
Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.
Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn.
And Keigo wanted more.
“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.
“C-can I have a pillow?”
“For your hips?”
Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.
The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.
With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.
The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.
He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.
“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”
Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”
It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind.
Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.
But, he had to be tender.
Had to be.
“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”
“You mean it, little bird?”
And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.
There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust.
Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.
You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.
Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper—
“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”
Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”
Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.
“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”
Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”
“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?”
Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.
Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.
Greedy, greedy, greedy.
Gluttons, the both of you.
As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.
Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—
“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”
You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.
As much as he took, he gave.
It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.
With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.
You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.
Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.
You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.
“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks.
“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”
“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”
He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?
“Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”
And he couldn’t be happier about it.
thank you for reading!!!! 💕
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