Her wings connect to her back in four separate places, two paired; that broken-glass shimmer spidering across the skin nearest where they do, fading to nothing, to the ordinary and familiar texture of her body. Under his hand they twitch and flutter, firm with the scale required to fit a human body, but flexible, light, translucent. Shades of the stained glass she favoured all through this boat,
her hand wraps around the base of his cock and she murmurs, “Well, you don’t feel off-put,” very archly.
The light, exploratory touch is … distracting. Slowly learning this is different to the cacophony of sensations, early, that had mostly been pain, or the way hauling a heavy robe over her shoulders had a largely dulling effect, trapping her wings where mostly what she could feel has been herself. It’s different, allowing herself to expand into this space, and under his hands— the very purposeful way she touches him is almost an exercise in grounding. A point to focus on outside of herself as she is newly mapped.
when it’s been nsfw for a minute,
her hand wraps around the base of his cock and she murmurs, “Well, you don’t feel off-put,” very archly.
The light, exploratory touch is … distracting. Slowly learning this is different to the cacophony of sensations, early, that had mostly been pain, or the way hauling a heavy robe over her shoulders had a largely dulling effect, trapping her wings where mostly what she could feel has been herself. It’s different, allowing herself to expand into this space, and under his hands— the very purposeful way she touches him is almost an exercise in grounding. A point to focus on outside of herself as she is newly mapped.