Y/N traced the delicate barbs of the crimson feather, her thumb moving with painstaking slowness. It was softer than any silk, warmer than any fire. It was a piece of him. Keigo, her Hawks, the winged hero who had somehow, impossibly, fallen for her.
He'd given it to her months ago, a small, fond smile playing on his lips. "For when you miss me too much," he'd said, his voice a low murmur. "Give it a little attention. I'll feel it."
At the time, it had seemed like a sweet, slightly silly gesture. She'd tucked it away in her jewelry box, a sentimental keepsake. But lately… lately, the loneliness had been a heavy blanket suffocating her. Keigo had been buried in hero work for weeks, chasing leads for the Commission, a whirlwind of flights and briefings and press conferences. She understood, truly she did. The safety of the city, of the country, came first. But understanding didn't make her any less needy.
She'd tried to distract herself. Girls' nights out with Midnight and ms joke, binging terrible reality TV, even attempting a new, elaborate recipe that ended with a burnt casserole and a smoke alarm blaring. Nothing filled the Keigo-shaped void. Even her vibrator was getting tired of being used so often.
A wicked grin spread across her face. It was time to test the limits of that little feather.
She brought it to her lips, kissing the tip softly before slowly trailing it down her chest. She let the feather dance across her skin, teasing her nipples, sending shivers down her spine. It was a slow burn, a delicious torture. Then, she lowered it again, this time between her legs. She pressed it against her core, and the feeling was divine.
Unknown to her, hundreds of miles away, Hawks was in the middle of a particularly tedious meeting with a group of stuffy government officials. He'd just managed to steer the conversation away from proposed regulations on feather usage when a jolt of pure sensation shot through him. He stiffened, his wings twitching uncontrollably. He clamped his jaw shut, fighting back a groan.
His eyes darted around the room, trying to maintain his composure. The lead official, a portly man with a comb-over, was droning on about liability insurance. Hawks could barely hear him over the blood rushing in his ears.
He bit the inside of his cheek, hard. Y/N. Only she could… only she would.
He subtly shifted in his seat, trying to discreetly relieve the pressure building in his lower body. The meeting, thank god, was finally coming to a close. As soon as the last official shook his hand – a handshake that felt like an eternity – Hawks bolted.
He burst out of the building and into the sky, his wings beating with a frantic energy. He needed to get home now.
As he flew, he pulled out his phone and sent a text:
Hawks: What r u doing? Be honest.
He got an instant reply:
Y/N: Thinking about you ;)
Hawks: Mmmhmm. And?
Y/N: And maybe… playing with a certain feather you gave me?
Hawks groaned aloud, the sound lost in the wind.
Hawks: Stop. Now. I'm on my way.
Y/N: Aww, but I'm just getting started...
Hawks: Don't tempt me, sweetheart. This flight's gonna be dangerous enough.
He landed on her balcony with a thump, kicking the door open before she could even react. She was sitting on the sofa, the crimson feather still clutched in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Took you long enough," she purred, running the feather across her lips.
Hawks didn't say a word. He strode toward her, his eyes burning with a possessive fire. He snatched the feather from her grasp and tossed it onto the coffee table. Then, he was on her, his mouth crashing against hers in a kiss that was both desperate and demanding.
The kiss deepened, tongues clashing, teeth scraping. He pulled her closer, molding her body against his. He ran his hands down her back, over the curve of her hips, pulling her even tighter.
"Keigo," she gasped, breaking the kiss for a breath. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," he murmured, his voice husky. "More than you know."
He tugged at her shirt, impatiently ripping it off. She didn't protest, her hands already working on the buckles of his hero suit. Fabric flew, buttons popped, and soon they were both stripped down to their bare skin.
He trailed kisses down her neck, her chest, lingering on her nipples. She arched her back, moaning softly. He moved lower, pressing kisses to her stomach, her hips, her thighs.
"Please," she begged, her voice trembling.
He didn't need to be told twice. He positioned himself between her legs, gazing into her eyes. "Ready?" he whispered.
She nodded, her eyes filled with desire.
He entered her slowly, deliberately, savoring the way she gasped and tightened around him. He began to move, his rhythm building with each thrust. She met his movements, her hips bucking against his, her nails digging into his back.
The room was filled with their sounds - moans, gasps, and whispered words of pleasure. They moved together, a perfect symphony of lust and longing.
Finally, the tension reached its peak. She cried out, her body convulsing in a series of intense orgasms. He followed suit, his own release a torrent of pure sensation.
They collapsed together, gasping for breath, their bodies slick with sweat. He buried his face in her hair, holding her close.
"I love you," he murmured.
"I love you too," she whispered back.
They stayed like that for a long time, tangled in each other's arms, the crimson feather lying forgotten on the coffee table. The loneliness had vanished, replaced by the warmth and comfort of being together. He knew he'd have to leave again soon, duty calling. But for now, in this moment, they were complete. And that, she thought, was enough.