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You're just finishing your work- just some research you were doing on plants- when Pure Vanilla interrupts, creaking your bedroom door open while looking just as- if not more awkward than he usually did ever since he’d gotten those wings. Each one was at least twice as wide as he was tall, resembling stereotypical angelic wings, shining in a bright white with soft, neat feathers. Ignoring his wings, he was dressed mostly as he normally did, skirt down to the floor, cloak clipped loosely around his shoulders, wide sleeves that you always thought were a little too long for him- except for his usual hat, which he’d stopped wearing so much, claiming it didn’t stay on properly if he was flying. He looks a bit small without it.
He looks a little uncomfortable, wrapping his wings around his body- he kept knocking things over with them and had resorted to just not using them if he didn’t have to. You kind of wish he wouldn’t- you think he looks quite graceful when he actually looks comfortable with them just at his sides instead of wrapped around his body like a straitjacket. But it was just unfortunate that no amount of grace made up for how much time he'd spent picking things up that he'd knocked over with his wings.
He finally gathers up the courage to speak to you, gripping his staff like he thought it was a stress ball. “Um… can I ask you a favour?” He shivers slightly, though he doesn’t seem cold, face a little flushed.
You aren’t sure what exactly he’s going to ask for that’s making him so nervous, but you nod anyway. It’s Pure Vanilla after all, he’s not going to ask for anything extravagant.
He looks a little more relaxed when you agree. “Ah, yeah, thank you. You know my wings, right?” He puts a hand on one wing, stroking his hand through the delicate feathers, though as he did he scattered a few to the ground beneath him. He completely ignored them, either not caring or not noticing.
You raise an eyebrow. “They’re certainly hard to miss.” You’re a little confused on why he bothered asking- you’re pretty sure it wasn’t possible not to notice them. They even glowed slightly, shining like they were made of pure light.
He glances away from you, realising his question was a little unnecessary. “Well- could you help me with them?” His face manages to get even redder, though you aren’t sure why he seems so embarrassed over his wings. Most people usually envy them, but he seemed like he didn’t even like them- which was strange, to say the least.
“I guess that depends on what you’re asking.” You shrug like it’s nothing- it probably is. He’s probably just going to ask if there’s dirt on his wing or something.
“Can you help me with preening them?” He glances at you, looking nervous and waiting for your reaction. “Ah- you don’t- you don’t have to. It’s okay if you don’t want to.” He raises his hands like you just accused him of something, almost looking guilty for a non-existent crime.
He looked about appropriately embarrassed for someone who had just walked in naked, but not for someone just requesting help.
As far as you know, preening is just a bird fixing its wings. Though… you do also know that birds can preen each other, and they usually do that to get closer bond-wise. So you’re pretty sure he just asked you to be his ‘breeding partner’, so to say.
You, admittedly, have no idea what preening him would actually mean, but you’ve had a pretty big crush on him for a while and are not about to turn down this opportunity. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”
He finally smiles, looking a little less uncomfortable. He sits down on the bed beside you, unclipping his cloak, pulling his hair away from his back and pulling his shirt down so you can reach his wings. “Just run your fingers through the feathers- they’ll straighten out and it’ll remove the old ones. I think.”
You take a moment to admire him- he looks more muscular than you thought he would, his body usually covered with wide sleeves and his thick cloak. He almost has the beginning of abs on his chest, and his back is quite muscular, probably from the effort of flying.
You touch a hand to one wing, and his entire body shivers slightly, though it doesn’t seem like he’s uncomfortable- if anything, he seems to quite like it, wing pressing harder against your hand when you try to move back. You run your hand through the soft feathers, and he begins making a low purring sound, almost like what a cat would make when you scratch that spot right behind their ears before he catches himself, covering his mouth and then the rest of his face with his hands.
“Oh- I am so sorry I didn’t mean to-“ He says quickly through the hands over his mouth. Or at least, you’re pretty sure that’s what he said. It’s not easy to decipher what he’s saying while he’s in such a state of embarrassment.
You laugh light-heartedly. “Ah, no, it’s fine.” You move your hand to run your fingers through his feathers again, but he moves them away, tucking them around his chest like he was suddenly incredibly embarrassed about being shirtless.
“I’ll do it myself, it’s fine. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He almost looks disappointed, but gives you a smile that seems a little fake. His face is about the same shade of red as the ripest tomato you've ever seen.
"Well, at least let me help with the back- you can't reach there yourself." You step closer, ruffling the feathers closest to his back. He makes that same purring sound again, shuddering slightly.
"I-" He sighs, sitting back down. "If you're sure you're not uncomfortable." He crosses one leg over the other, twisting his body so that you can reach both wings easier.
"Oh, no, of course not." You assure him. You'd never admit this to him, but seeing him so flustered over catching himself purring in pleasure was pretty funny. His wings must've been sensitive to inspire such a reaction.
His wings twitch slightly every time you touch them, but he seems content enough with being stroked like a pet bird. Well, mostly. He's still trying and failing to stop himself from purring- he'd purr for a few seconds, then abruptly stop, then slowly start purring again. He was starting to look a little annoyed about it, fists clenched at his sides like that might bless him with the willpower to pretend he wasn't enjoying himself.
"You can just let yourself enjoy this, you know." You ruffle his feathers, which makes him shiver again. "I can tell you want to."
He looks stubborn, but relaxes at your words, wings drooping slightly. "I'm not enjoying this..." He blushes, realising what he'd just said. "Oh- well no I am enjoying it just not like that I just don't dislike it I'm just tolerating it because otherwise it'll damage my wings-" He covers his face again, shaking his head slowly, realising you don't believe him.
Why he thought you might ever believe that you aren't sure- he was spending more time making pleasured purrs and trills not unlike a bird than he spent not making those noises. That and how defensive he was being over it- there wasn't a chance he was just 'tolerating' this.
"Oh, come on, don't lie. I've never seen you seem so soothed until just now. You're loving this." You shift your hands from the back of his wings to the inside of his wings, pulling at the end of his wing so you can reach. As you do, he hisses, fluttering his wings hard enough to rip them out of your hands and knocking a few things over in your room from the force of him jerking such large wings.
He almost immediately looks apologetic, standing and moving away from you like he's afraid he might hurt you if you touch him again. "Sorry- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hiss. I don't know why I did that." He covers his face again, turns back towards you and brushes more things off your desk by accident. He finally pulls his wings around his body, unwilling to make an even bigger mess while trying to clean up the things he knocked over.
"No, I'm sorry. I was the one touching your wings, that's my fault." You aren't exactly sure what you did to cause such a reaction, but it probably had something to do with the fact that you had pulled at his wings. It probably felt like you'd started ripping his arm off or something. Why he had specifically hissed instead of just flinching or at least crying out a little you can't tell, but you aren't brave enough to question him on the noises he's making on instinct. And... you think it was kind of cute.
He puts the last book back on your desk, pulling his wings tightly around his torso. "No- I overreacted, it didn't even hurt. They're just... sensitive." He brushes over that fact a little too quickly, like he's hoping you'll forget he did anything if he pretends nothing happened. He has his hands wrapped tightly over his arms, like he's hugging himself.
"It's not your fault." You stand up, moving closer to him and putting your hands on his. His hands are surprisingly warm, like small crackling fires.
He looks a little stunned, like he wasn't sure what to even say. His eyes go wide, taking the smallest step away from you, putting a hand on his reddening cheek. "Ah, um, yeah! Yeah." He answers in a way that doesn't at all relate to what you said. He looks at you nervously, like he's waiting for you to answer a question he didn't ask.
You notice he's got his wings wrapped around his torso- and subsequently his waist as well.
He runs his hand along the outside of his wings, looking like he's very worriedly waiting for you to notice something or other that he's done wrong.
"Are you okay?" You ask, concerned about the sudden wave of shyness that had overtaken him.
He manages to somehow look even more worried than he already was- a single bead of sweat forms on his forehead, he shifts how he's standing and wraps a lock of hair around one finger. "Oh, yeah, yeah, fine. I'm fine."
You don't believe him. He's acting flustered, he looks flustered, and he sounds flustered. You have it on pretty good authority that he's flustered. He doesn't seem to realise how badly of a job he's doing at hiding how embarrassed he is.
"Are you sure? You don't look okay."
"I'm okay, it's just really warm in here and..." His face suddenly goes blank, like he'd completely forgotten what he was saying. "And it's too warm in here."
"You already said that." You give him a strange look, a sudden flush of red overtaking his face.
He manages to pull himself together enough to stumble over a response. "Oh, y-yeah! Yeah, I already said that. You're right." He wipes his sweaty hands on his skirt, biting his lip and looking away from you every time you try to meet his eyes.
You decide to finally build up the courage to ask him a question. "Are you flustered because of me?"
"Ah- um, no. I'm not flustered." He puts a hand on his arm, his wings fluttering slightly with undisguised discomfort.
"Yes you are. Is it because of me or not?" You move a little closer, watching him internally debate stepping back, but eventually settles on letting you stand near him- though a little closer than he seems to be overly relaxed with.
He hesitates for a moment, then covers his face, though underneath looks a little queasy- he has a serious case of sudden onset butterflies in his stomach. "Okay- after you touched my wings it felt really nice but now every time I look at you or think about you I can't help but stumble over my words and blush and-!" He put a hand over each ear, shaking his head.
"Ah, no, that's nothing. I don't have feelings-." His face gets even redder, realising exactly what he'd just said. "You didn't hear that."
"Hmm... I do think I heard that. I think you just admitted to having feelings!" You put a finger under his chin, leaning into him, putting a hand on his shoulder and pressing ever-so-slightly onto his chest- the chest that noticeably is still not covered by his shirt. "I do believe you have a thing for me..."
His eyes widen, glancing around his room like he's hoping someone else might appear and change the subject, touching a hand to yours on his shoulder. "Um- maybe a little. Maybe more than a little. Maybe a lot." He hisses again under his breath, quieter and gentler than before. His hissing is closer to a soft whisper, like he's considering saying something to you but doesn't dare to actually say it.
You step away from him, and sit back down on the bed, not actually saying anything but he seems to recognise the silent invitation, judging by how much his wings begin fluttering and twitching uncontrollably.
He hesitates, then finally moves closer, and sits down next to you, but doesn't do anything else- not yet at least. It seems like he's waiting for you to tell him to do something, like a dog waiting for someone to throw a stick and yell ‘fetch!’.
You lean a little closer to him, eyebrows raised. "You aren't going to let me lay on that nice chest of yours?"
He swallows nervously, then surprisingly, does what you asked, laying on his back and keeping his wings at his sides so that you could lay on top of him. He puts his hands behind his head, looking suspiciously at ease considering he's laying in your bed.
You lay over him, head resting on your arms, positioned carefully so that your head is just quite beneath his collarbone, though that does mean your feet are hanging off the end of the bed. Being so close to him is definitely worth that, though.
He's not actually as comfortable as you thought he would be- for some reason you expected his chest to be soft like a pillow. It is not. He's actually quite solid, like laying on a thinly padded brick wall. You can feel his chest rise and lower with each breath he's taking, feeling his breath on your head.
He wraps his wings around your body, pulling you closer to his face. His wings are soft on your back, feathers brushing along your skin like a velvety blanket. They're also quite warm, making it feel like he might either be trying to comfort you warmly or boil you alive- though you're pretty sure it's the first one.
He puts a hand on the back of your head, finally pulling you close enough to his face to meet your lips. You close your eyes, pushing your face against his, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.
He finally pulls his face away from yours, though it seems like it's more because he needed to breathe and not because he doesn't want to continue making out. His eyes go a little wider when he realises what you're doing, but he doesn't tell you to get off of him, so you assume he must be enjoying himself.