phouka | Winter

Winter

The Phouka was lonely. He flew about the city in his Raven-self, observing mortals to try to find something that would catch his attention. The prince was quiet and rarely came out of his room, leaving the Phouka to bring him shiny trinkets. He didn't even have Keat's companionship.

This was, in his opinion, ridiculous.

He went to the hotel, Man-shaped, and he found Finlay's room. Riding the lift he knew he wanted only to see Winter. He did not care for the troubles between the prince and his love. He did not care. He cared only for Winter and he missed the pixie's light and company. So he found himself at the door and he knocked, hoping it would be Winter who answered.

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Cupping the other creature's face in his hands, he leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Yes," he whispered between kisses. "Grown. At least nearly, I think. There might be more to come I suppose. It don't know. ...That's exciting. Not knowing."

"Yes," he agreed, chasing Winter's kisses. With his eyes closed he could indulge in the peace of such a simple act. He need not worry or fear, he needed only to kiss Winter and breathe him in and pull him closer with strong hands on the curve of his waist.

"You should take me to bed," Winter whispered. "Carry me to bed, and let's be beasts. Raw and bare beneath the covers. Let us be wicked and sinful creatures, Phouka."

The Phouka growled softly and smiled, then lifted Winter off the floor. He kissed him again as he walked to the bedroom. He always appreciated when Winter was willing to do more than touch or simply be close.

"I like you grown," he said as he set the pixie down at the edge of the bed. Then he began to undress himself, never taking his eyes off of Winter.

"Good, I like being grown," Winter assured him, leaning back and admiring the Phouka as he stripped.

"You're beautiful, Phouka," he said softly. "I could look at you forever. ...Maybe I will."

"I would like that very much," he said warmly, then his eyes widened. "I have learned a new trick with my appearance, would you like to see?"

"Really?" Winter asked, his brows raising. "Oh, yes, I'd love to see!"

He sat up a bit straighter, kicking off his shoes and pulling his feet up onto the bed.

The Phouka closed his eyes and concentrated, then he shook his head. His hair vanished, replaced instead by long black feathers. It, of course, had no practical application, but he rather liked how it looked and how the feathers ruffled.

"I have not tried to grow a tail yet, but I will."

"Oh!" Winter gasped, getting to his feet and moving closer to inspect them.

"I don't know about a tail, tails get in the way, don't you think? The feathers are... Well, they're different. You're very handsome though Phouka, no matter what's on your head."

He smiled with pride and let Winter admire him for a bit, before shaking his head again and his hair returned to what it normally was.

"It may get in the way," he agreed. "But I would like to try. Just to see if I can."

"You are so strange, Phouka," Winter laughed. "I like it very much."

"I am not strange!" he insisted with a laugh, returning to the business of undressing.

"You are," Winter assured him. "That's okay though, I'm strange too Phouka."

Winter watched a moment longer, admiring the perfectly sculpted body of the Phouka before pulling his own shirt off over his head. His wardrobe was still subdued, a deep plumb shirt and dark black jeans, but a bit of the child remained in the long necklace that hung around his neck that featured a small pirate ship.

Once he was bare, and Winter was bare as well, the Phouka's smile turned wicked and he lunged forward to knock the pixie onto the bed. He followed him down, climbing on top of him so he could bend low and kiss him. Savage, hungry kisses. Beastly kisses.

Winter was startled, but he wasn't afraid, and though he went still, he smiled into the kiss as his fingers gripped the Phouka's shoulders.

It made his whole body sing, and though the added height made him seem even more gaunt and sharp, he looked well. He lit up under the Phouka's affection.

The Phouka kissed him again and again, fingers threading into Winter's curls to pull a bit. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he moved from Winter's mouth to his neck where he bit in, his sharp teeth pressing in but not breaking the skin.

Winter cried out in pleasure, throwing his head back as his hips lifted off the bed. His nails almost felt like little needles as they dug into dark skin.

"Phouka," he moaned. "Phouka, my Phouka..."

He growled again, a bit more feral, and he moved from one side to another. He kissed and bit, licked his way up the center of Winter's throat to find his mouth again.

"You still taste as sweet," he murmered, then kissed him again.

"Do I taste better?" Winter asked, his voice a low rumble. "Am I delicious, Phouka? As delicious as you?"

He liked Phouka like this. So wild and raw... It was a true thrill.

"More delicious than ever," he rumbled, his pink tongue flicking out to lick at Winter's mouth. "I will eat you up..."

He drew back and smiled then, a wolfish grin all teeth and promise.

"Devour me, Phouka. I will gladly be your supper," Winter growled softly, sitting upto chase the Phouka's lips with his own.

Rather than kiss him, the Phouka caught Winter's bottom lip and worried it between his teen, snarling playfully. When he did let go he then bit the side of the pixie's neck, then his shoulder, then down his chest. He was eager to hear Winter moan with pleasure and had a lovely time pretending to gobble him up.

Winter let out a low groan, fingers catching hold of Phouka's beautiful hair and clinging tight.

"My Phouka," he whispered, wondering if any other pixie could claim to have a phouka all their own to love and enjoy. ...The thought that he might be the only one made him terribly pleased.

The Phouka moved lower and lower, pleased to feel the pull on his hair. Winter's nails on his scalp. He groaned low, the sound rumbling through him like thunder. As he moved lower he bit Winter's belly and then his hips, sucking a kiss over the sharp just of his hip bone to leave a dark mark.

Winter cried out, a sharp little sound.

"Phouka," he panted, breathless and whimpering, then growling softly. Feral and wanton.

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