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For the feathered, winters are inevitable and cold and unwelcoming. With their wings, they take flight to land unspoiled by snow. There, their feet will not sink upon white and the air is not frozen thickly. For Dottore, the cold is something he cannot avoid. It is also something he cannot embrace. Upon his first steps into Sneznahya, he had almost taken flight in alarm of the cold. When Pierro had told him it was the land of snow and Cryo, he had underestimated it. He had tucked himself in his wings, his feathers ruffled and he squirmed in his thick coat the Harbinger had given him.
"You'll get used to it." The man said.
The promise of resources were enough for him to stay despite not believing it one bit. So, Dottore stayed.
But those were days long long pass, memories blurrily remembered in moments where his mind strayed from the goal and became introspective against his will. His wings perked up from behind him. True to his own belief, Dottore did not get used to the cold—but he managed. His room was bedecked with neat piles of thick fur blankets skinned from beasts. Slayed and hunted only for him. For the cold, and for his heats.
Yes, his heats. The uncontrollable urge to be taken, to be filled, to be thoroughly bred. It was one thing for a Sepherian like him to reside in a country completely different from his homeland, it was another to get through heats. He’d manage to settle it, one of his first goals in the land of snow was to create a stabiliser for his…condition. That had worked for the first few centuries, but for the past years, nothing; not a single concoction, creation and prescription of his has set him free of the burden. So he is left, writhing pathetically in a pile of fur and feathers mixed among them, yearning churning in his gut. His wings opening and closing in discomfort, the longing for heat mingling through his body.
Dottore instantly picked up on the door opening, his breath stopping for a moment. Light steps upon mahogany wood, the setting of a cane against a desk. The click of heels coming closer to his piled nest, Dottore sees him from above, shadowing. His body instantly heats up more.
“Oh dear, it’s gotten this bad?” Pantalone wished he had a kamera on him right now, to capture such a sight for eternity, to show it to Dottore after. He'd be reprimanded, yelled at and scolded, but ultimately it was a slap on the wrist and worth all the mora in the world. They’d been lovers for years and companions for more, but he’d never been allowed the privilege to intrude on the doctor’s days of isolation. It was only recently he’d been—albeit, with countless attempts of persuasion—given the opportunity to witness such. Regretfully, he wasn’t permitted to actually do anything, Dottore made that clear with his nipping, biting and downright hissing. There were of course, benefits during his affliction—Dottore was far more agreeable, affectionate you could say? Though he doubted that was the right word. It all just seemed a pity that such moods happened infrequently, not that he liked seeing Dottore uncomfortable. But looking at his beloved now, skin flushed rosy red, sweaty, panting and wings fluttering. Oh, how they tempted him with their beauty.
He could spill words, utter nonsense and honeyed talk to loosen Dottore enough that he'd let him. Or bribe him perhaps, though that hardly worked as Pantalone would give in first anyways.
“My dear, may I assist in anything you need so I might aid you?”
“Touch me.”
Well, that was easy.
“I-, are you certain?”
“Yes, for fucks sake touch me!” Dottore snapped.
“Very well.”
Pantalone removed his rings, he placed them on the bedside table and prompted his knee in the mass of blankets. He crawled along the fur until he was hovering above Dottore, bare and flushed. The banker pondered how he should go about it, until ultimately deciding he’d follow the flow and did as he wished. Pantalone gently stroked from up Dottore’s waist, who squirmed and keened.
“No gloves.” To this, Pantalone complied immediately, throwing the gloves somewhere else with abandon. He continued, feeling the softness of Dottore’s skin, his wiry muscle, every interaction of flesh pleasantly erupting shivers in the man. He worked both hands, moving in symmetry across the pale body, soft moans leaving the doctor’s lips like a melody. He loved watching his lover’s wings flitter, those gentle silky feathers moving in unison.
“More…”
“How?”
In response, Dottore only whined. So again, Pantalone complied. He removed his clothes, discarding them completely to the floor. He knocked his heels away, slotting them off with each other's end. It should be cold, despite the efforts of architects, none ever manage to chase away Sneznhaya’s frost. But there is nothing but the warmth of the air, embracing both of them as he leaned down to seal lips. Dottore is warm, so warm. His breath and skin feel as if they could melt the ice away and flood the world in its wake. He wants him, to take him, to fuck him.
“More?” He asked, begging really.
With a nod from Dottore, Pantalone eagerly travelled his hands down his lover’s body. He only stopped until he could pry his hands under the doctor’s knees and spread them apart lightly. It was wet, abnormally so, was this due to his heat, Pantalone thought. He’d done a little investigation on the matter of Dottore’s origin, frustratingly, it was locked tight and informants were rare to return. Dottore seemed intent to keep his story to himself. Though it mattered little in the grand scheme of things, and it mattered even less now in such a situation. The doctor's cloaca was waiting for him, ass lifted slightly up. It must be from his heat, all this sweetness and yearning and want.
"Now I see why you'd never let me touch you, but even you have your limits, hm?" The banker chuckled, lining himself up and thrusting into the tightness and warmth.
"Ah! Mm…" Dottore gasped, ecstasy shooting straight up his spine as he was filled. So good so good more want more–
"A mere thrust and you look ready to burst." What a sight, he'd pay anything to see this everyday. He imagines the doctor, usually so prideful and egotistical under his desk. The man on his knees and sucking his cock with a pliant hot mouth.
"Move! I want…you to move..!"
'Yes yes of course.."
Dottore moaned as Pantalone spared no time to oblige. His hands having gripped on the banker's forearms trembled with a thrust. Pantalone's hands were restless, liking to feel every inch of skin, traversing curves and dips. His touches left trails of fire and flushing red skin on Dottore, fuck, he's never been this sensitive. The man's hands found purchase on his waist, holding it down only to fuck it on his cock roughly.
"Ah–! Ah…ngh–!" Dottore arched, head thrown back as tears built up in his eyes. His wings sprung at the pleasure, shaking incessantly against the fur covers. Pantalone sucked in a breath, it was so goddamned tight and warm yet unbelievably soft. The tight ring of muscle squeezed and dilated around his shaft, pulling him in further and deeper. Looking up from where they were joined, Pantalone relished his creation. Tears in the corners, mouth slacking and panting deeply. Then those wings, so beautiful and majestic trapped within the fur as they quivered.
"May I?"
Dottore raised a brow, before yelping as swiftly and without notice, their positions had changed. The scientist above the banker, pale blue wings outstretched and beating to the stimulation.
"What a lovely view." Pantalone hummed.
"You shit…ah~!" A mewl escaped as Pantalone sharply rammed inside, knocking the will out of Dottore to say anything farther.
"Don't worry, you'll be filled. That's what your heats are for aren't they?"
Pantalone bucked his hips up, Dottore's legs straddled to the sides of his thighs. His hands still firmly clutched on the crevice between his legs and waist. Like the anchor of a ship, he steadied Dottore amongst the waves; the rock of his hips as he thoroughly fucked his tightness. He kept him from raising too high, and repeatedly sunk him down to swallow his cock again. His wings fervently fluttered as if he was flying, as if seeking to ascend from this mortal realm. Perhaps he already had. With each thrust, Pantalone roughened his pace, faster, deeper–he gritted his teeth as he fucked Dottore's insides making his legs split apart farther each time. Dottore's expression was one of pure bliss, mouth agape and tongue lulling out. He relished that look in his ruby eyes, hazy with pleasure and lust.
“Give it to me please, need—need more..please, please Pantalone! I need…” Dottore whimpered forlornly, tears escaping as he almost sobbed out those words. He was so unbearably hot, he was burning; the heat pricked his skin as his lower body coiled and rolled for the treasure it desired the most. No other thoughts besides his needs ran through his head as he began to move himself, skewering his cloaca repeatedly down Pantalone’s blessedly girthy cock.
“Oh you poor thing, it hasn’t calmed down at all has it?” Pantalone almost felt bad if not for the gift of sight he was given, he just kept being surprised today. The banker paused his hips, satisfied with the little show he was privy to. But really, he should alleviate his lover’s needs now, shouldn’t he? He returned to his rhythm, syncing with Dottore as slick ran down with a squelch with the perverse passionate ramming.
“Ugh, I’m…close.” Pantalone gasped, furrowing his brows with the clinging climax coiling and twisting inside him. He grinned and licked his lips, locking eyes with Dottore.
“What shall I do, my dear? Come deep inside you and fill you up?” That earned him a nod and wings fanning excitedly.
“Not outside?” A very determined shaking of disapproval followed as his wings drooped. God, it shouldn’t be allowed for him to be this cute, not this vulnerable and pliant and soft. It shouldn’t be allowed, not at all, because Pantalone doesn’t think he’ll ever let go.
“Pantalone…please..”
Pantalone gulped,
“How could I possibly say no?”
The 9th sat up to fully embrace him, one arm wrapping around Dottore’s back slithering down to hold his ass. The other behind his head as he mashed their lips together in a messy hungry kiss, panting in each other's mouth as they reached the precipice and the eye of the storm. There was no rhythm, no pace and sense to be found in the banker’s foist, his hips roiled and hit seeking release in his last crude heated fucking. Dottore cried out through the kiss, having reached his climax. The squeeze of Dottore’s warm walls as he came around his cock was the final straw that broke Pantalone’s back. He rasped, tightening his embrace around Dottore and slotting their mouths back together as he pushed his dick in deeper as he came. Dottore’s wings convulsed as his lover's thick warm come flooded him, mixing with the coursing pleasure of his own climax. He twitched, jolting as he felt with clarity beyond the warm haze each pump of it be loaded in. His heat took over as his wings folded and flittered, blowing warm air over them.
“Hah…hah…” When neither could keep their breaths through the kiss, Dottore stopped to pant. His heavy breaths moisturised in the air and his chest rose and fell in undulation. Pantalone took his time to calm down as well, arousal still permeating in his groin as he watched. He noticed as Dottore pulled in a breath, his cloaca clenched around him, and as he exhaled he loosened–come escaping and trickling out in varying amounts. Perhaps subconsciously, Dottore clenched tighter when he'd felt the seed flee; much to Pantalone's amusement.
"Look at you, gods Dottore…, what am I to do? How could I possibly take you any other way now?"
Dottore buried his head in the crook of Pantalone's neck and shoulder, embracing back. His shoulders were sweaty and his pink flush reached his ears, he said something. It was barely above a whisper but it was clear, Pantalone felt his lips move to say it against his skin.
"I love you."
The banker's heart practically stopped, breath hitching to fully comprehend those words. They were lovers, but even then it was rare to hear those words from Dottore. The doctor's wings flapping timidly and shyly, as if it was a hatchlings first flight was everything he needed to know it was true. A wobbly smile crept up his lips, he hugged Dottore firmer in return. He'd felt it then, their chest pressed up against each other, hearts beating in tandem. He snug his mouth in those pale blue locks, kissed and breathed in his scent.
"I love you too, Zandik."
They stayed like that, warmed and welcomed in the other's presence. Lovers indulging in soft caresses and airy raspy words to speak their names in praise. The night continued, long, long pass even as the moon descended. Throughout, Dottore's pale body burned restlessly and Pantalone was all too happy to stoke it.
…
"There's a reason I don't let you get this close during these, you fool."
It was the afternoon when they awoke, covered in the fur blankets from the neck down; body and limbs still tangled and embedded. The poison Dottore spit was so mild Pantalone could only chuckle.
“Would you rather I not have touched you?” He smoothened the feathers, teasing the inner wing. “Left you there as I watched, your body burning to cinders from the inside?”
Dottore grumbled and slapped the hand away with his wing. “No.”
“Then what should I have done?”
“Shut up, I’m resting.” Dottore pursed his lips, huddling in the blanket.
And of course, Pantalone did as told with a smile.