She pushed him deeper, and when he was bottomed out against the base of her quills, his rear would come off the ground a little and he’d make adorable thrusts into the fleecy thicket, staining it with his warmth. She’d ruffle her wings at that time, matching his thrusts as he loosed into her with soft, shivering growls.

The harpy’s innermost plumes lacked waterproofing, so his pre nestled deep, wicking down her barbs and staining her skin. She made a mental note to have Aster scrub that area more thoroughly later.

Soft growls turned to gasps as he lost all subtlety. They’d pull away simultaneously, dragging his length out of her gripping down and contour feathers at twice the speed. Then they’d rejoin in the middle, piercing his length into her wing and misaligning plenty of feathers.

The first few attempts were rough, but eventually his musk trickled out of her feathers, and their efforts smoothed as her feathers and his loin shined with werewolf essence.

His tongue dangled from his mouth, and she smelled mint on his exhales. A few more strokes and his body froze until it was just the shivering of his tail and ears and nothing else.