“Good,” they breathed. “So very good.”
He massaged the raised joints where their wings locked into their spine, and they thrummed. Wanting to feel it, he pressed his lips to their throat, the thrum vibrating through him until he felt it in his bones. He trailed kisses up their neck as they gasped at the ceiling.
He didn’t immediately register that he was hard until his dick rubbed between Zef’s legs, and they both stiffened. Dropping his hands to their thighs, he pushed them away gently, sliding them farther onto the counter so they weren’t touching his erection.
“Sorry,” he panted, forehead on their shoulder. “I need to calm down.”
Nearly as out of breath as he was, Zef hummed, petting the back of his neck. “Yes, I also apologize. I, too, seem to have been overcome. No one has ever touched me there before.”
“Was that okay?” he asked, and they nodded against his temple.
“Yes, it was very pleasurable. Even my toes tingled.”
“You don’t have toes,” he said, and they giggled unfairly.
“Well, for the sake of argument, assume I have toes and that you made them tingle.”
He groaned pathetically, fingers tightening on their thighs. “That ain’t helping with my hard-on.”
“Apologies,” they said, not sounding sorry at all.
“Sass.”
When his erection had deflated to a more manageable halfsie, Bryce lifted his head and took in Zef’s satisfied smile and flushed cheeks. They were so beautiful, and he cradled their face in his hands and kissed their cheek. They chirped, rubbing his biceps.
“I’m gonna go shower the plane off me,” he said as he stepped out from between their legs.
Perched on the edge of the counter, they folded their hands in their lap and nodded. “Alright. Shall I prepare dinner?”
“How about we order in?” he suggested. “And we can watchHow It’s Made.”
Nodding enthusiastically, Zef retrieved their phone, wings buzzing. “I would like that very much.”
As July faded into August, they easily fell back into routine, Bryce to school and Zef to work. They spent their evenings on the couch together—though, sometimes, their activities involved wandering fingers and heavy breath—and their weekends with their friends. During a game night near the end of August, Oliver showed up with a ring on his left hand, and Liel was sporting a simple gold hoop in his right earlobe—a Gymnot sign of betrothal, Zef explained to Bryce later.
Everyone cheered and gathered around to congratulate them on the engagement.
“I asked first,” Oliver proclaimed loudly.
“Yes, but I did it better,” Liel boasted, and Oliver laughed, kissing him passionately on the mouth.
Quin, who had remained seated since standing was more difficult given her swollen stomach, said, “Do you have a date yet?”
Oliver shook his head. “No, probably next year or something. We’re not in a rush.”
“I like having a fiancé,” Liel said. “I want to enjoy it for at least a little while.”
“This is amazing,” Gem said as he wiped at the many tears pouring from his many eyes. “I don’t believe in the institution of marriage for myself, but I love this for you, Ollie. Also, can I be your maid of honor?”
“Well, Jude’s my best man, but sure, Gem,” Oliver said with a clap to his shoulder, “you can be my maid of honor.”
“Oh my gods, Ollie!” Gem wailed, picking up the human completely and squeezing him until he complained of lack of oxygen.
“I love weddings,” Enfys purred as she propped her top arm on Rusty’s shoulder. “People are extra slutty, especially the groomsmen.”
“Weddings are so hype! I can’t wait to show you all my moves on the dance floor,” Dex said, executing a wave with his arms, then pointing at Cya. “Passing it on to you, Cy.”
The Sypent blinked at him, their crossed arms unmoving, but their expression lacked its usual contempt. There was even a twitch at the corner of their mouth, like they were fighting a smile.
