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Something was off.
Something was indisputably wrong, and he hated the fact that he didn't have the slightest clue what was happening.
Sunday had been a part of the Astral Express crew for nearly a year. And over that year, some... changes had taken place within their big family, even if they weren't bound by blood.
Dan Heng, despite having his own room just like any other crew member, still preferred to spend most of his time in the archive, sorting through and organizing data in the database. Eventually, a futon appeared in the archive – he would fall asleep right there, never making it to his room. But with the arrival of the Halovian on board, that usual routine began to shift.
Like any new crew member, Sunday didn't get his own room immediately. So, on the very first evening, the question arose: where should they put him? Sleeping on the narrow couch in the passenger car or, God forbid, in a box was not an option. Hearing this, Caelus merely huffed, muttering something along the lines of "you know nothing about comfort." Dan Heng silently looked from one to the other, taking a few seconds to deliberate whether it was even worth stepping in.
"Sunday can stay in my room for now. I’m barely ever there anyway," Dan Heng offered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"He-e-ey, you didn't even offer that to me!" Caelus sounded as if he had been deeply insulted.
"Didn't you just argue that sleeping in a box is super comfortable?" March 7th raised an eyebrow.
And so, Sunday settled in his room. Temporarily. Or so it seemed back then.
Sunday was still very quiet, and to some extent, even shy. The restless energy of Caelus and March threw him off balance, so he usually preferred the company of the senior crew members, Mr. Welt and Lady Himeko, or Dan Heng, hiding from the noise in the database archive.
Thus, slowly and unnoticed, the Halovian and the dragon grew closer. The simple comfort of sharing a quiet space gradually blossomed into rare conversations on all sorts of topics – cautious at first, mundane even, but growing more open with every passing day. Daily communication turned into a habit, and over time, that habit deepened into affection. No words, no confessions, just the quiet understanding that a day felt incomplete without the other’s presence.
Of course, Sunday had grown closer to other crew members as well. Especially Welt, in whom Sunday seemed to see an authority and a father figure, someone to rely on for advice and support. But the time spent with the Astral Express’s guard was special. It was something intimate, a precious secret he wanted to keep entirely to himself.
This friendship became an anchor for them in their endless journey through the cold cosmos. Quiet evenings over tea in the archive, soft conversations about books they’d read, distant planets, and the heavy burden of the past that each of them carried within. Yet beside one another, there was no shame in showing vulnerability or opening up.
And then, that friendship began to turn into something more. A casual glance that lingered a second longer than usual. A fleeting touch of hands as one passed a journal to the other, leaving a strange, comforting warmth behind on the skin. Both felt this fragile emotion blooming between them, but neither dared to take a step forward, to speak aloud everything resting on their hearts. It was frightening to admit it even to oneself.
And then they set off for Amphoreus, and everything else was cast aside.
The warm, gentle everyday life on the Astral Express shattered against brutal reality in a single moment. Dan Heng and Caelus ended up trapped on the planet, completely cut off from the rest of the crew. Meanwhile, March 7th, who had fallen ill the moment they approached the uncharted world, lay unconscious, covered in a strange, shimmering ice. Himeko was beside herself, spending almost all her time by the girl’s bedside while desperately trying to reach the boys. Sunday, along with Mr. Yang, had to seek help and make a tacit agreement with two Geniuses from the Society.
Everything merged into a single, overwhelming cascade of troubles and disasters. Sleep became nearly impossible: fitful, restless, lasting only a couple of hours at a time. Sunday would wake with a start at every faint rustle, constantly imagining he heard the footsteps of Dan Heng, whose room he was still staying in. And it hurt just as deeply every time he realized it was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.
On one such night, the exhaustion accumulated over those harrowing days broke through his final barriers, forcing him to face one simple truth:
He was terrified of losing everything he had gained.
From the moment the Express arrived at Amphoreus, life seemed to have drained from the train’s cabins. He longed for the life he had grown so deeply accustomed to. He missed the steady calmness of Welt and Himeko, who always knew what to do. He missed the chaotic noise that March and Caelus inevitably brought with them. But above all, he missed the evening conversations, the tender glances, and the fleeting touches of one specific Vidyadhara.
When it was all over and the crew returned home safe and sound, Sunday’s heart – which had felt tightly bound by thorny vines all those days – finally settled back into its calm rhythm. His eyes instinctively locked onto Dan Heng the moment the trio stepped back on board.
He had changed. Golden horns now crowned his head, and a heavy dragon tail swayed softly behind him. Their eyes met, and time seemed to slow down. In those blue eyes, Sunday read the exact same blend of joy and exhaustion he felt himself. They had both been waiting for this.
Later, after everyone had retired to their rooms, they were finally able to steal a moment alone in Dan Heng’s cabin. That evening, they confessed to one another. Everything left unsaid, weeks of separation and fear – all of it was erased by the gentle touch of their lips. The bond between them finally found its form: natural, as if it had always been meant to be this way.
When Sunday finally received his own cabin, very little actually changed. Formally, yes, the room belonged to him, but in reality, he barely used it. His clothes remained in Dan Heng’s wardrobe, and in the morning, a few stray feathers were always left behind on the pillow.
Dan Heng’s usual routine underwent a shift as well. Less and less often did he fall asleep in the archive, and more and more frequently in his own bedroom, where Sunday now softly snored every evening, having once again failed to stay awake until his return. This became their new normal, and everyone was completely fine with it. The entire crew simply accepted it as a given.
Which is why now, nearly half a year into their official relationship, Dan Heng was thoroughly baffled.
Even though he had started sleeping in the cabin with Sunday, he still often lingered in the archive, sifting through the ship’s logs and completely losing track of time. Today was no different; upon returning to the room, he saw that Sunday was already asleep. His halo, as usual, had been set aside on the nightstand beside the bed. But it wasn't the halo that caught his attention, but the total mess their bed had become. Sunday, who was never particularly sensitive to the cold, was buried up to his head in a pile of blankets, despite the Express maintaining a steady, comfortable temperature throughout. To top it all off, Dan Heng’s clothes were scattered everywhere. There was the woolen sweater he had worn during the mission to the ice planet, his old training jacket, and even a couple of t-shirts that had vanished from the closet. All of it was strewn around Sunday, whose head Dan Heng could barely spot amidst the chaos.
All of this was extremely uncharacteristic of the meticulous Sunday, who usually tried not to disturb the order even in his sleep.
Waking him, who was likely exhausted from the day anyway, didn't feel right. Nor did it make much sense. He quickly gathered all the clothes scattered around the room and bed, neatly stacking them in the closet. Just as he had done for the past two days.
Was Sunday worried about something, perhaps? Was he trying to comfort himself and soothe his body this way? They were both anthropomorphic beings, each with their own unique quirks and instincts. Pressing his partner was the last thing he wanted to do. If Sunday wasn't ready to share, Dan Heng wouldn't push. He knew from personal experience how difficult it could be to deal with one's beast-like traits, and how hard it was to talk about them out loud.
He let out a quiet sigh, shutting the closet door, and tiptoed over to the bed. Carefully, he lifted the edge of the blanket so as not to disturb the sleeping boy. The warmth emanating from the Halovian’s body enveloped him instantly, as if inviting him to pull closer.
Dan Heng didn't resist. He slid closer and wrapped an arm around his waist, taking care not to crush the wings folded over his stomach. Sunday stirred, pressing closer as if recognizing him by touch even in his sleep. The tips of his feathers softly brushed against Dan Heng’s cheek, leaving a faint, ticklish sensation behind. Dan Heng closed his eyes, pulling Sunday tighter against him. Within minutes, soothed by the rhythm of their shared breathing, Dan Heng drifted off to sleep as well.
But the oddities didn't end there.
Of course, Sunday had always cared about his appearance and looked as though he’d just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. Caelus had once joked that even if Sunday were photographed sitting in a mud puddle, he’d still look like an angel in the picture. But lately, his grooming rituals had gotten… prolonged. No, honestly, extremely prolonged. Dan Heng was ready to swear that this morning Sunday had spent at least an hour in front of the mirror, meticulously preening every single feather and styling his hair.
At first, Dan Heng thought Sunday was simply in a good mood today – after all, there are days when you just want to look extra special, right? But the longer he observed him, the deeper a seed of doubt planted itself somewhere under his ribs. When Sunday reached for a jar of fragrant oil bought back on Xianzhou, Dan Heng finally spoke up, unable to suppress his curiosity.
"Look, I have nothing against it, but aren't you fussing over this a bit too much?"
The smile that hadn't left Sunday’s face all morning twitched almost imperceptibly. He lowered his gaze, placing the jar back on the table, while the tips of the wings framing his face drooped slightly.
"Fussing?" he repeated, trying to keep his tone light, though a faint note of confusion still slipped through. He raised his eyes to the mirror, meeting Dan Heng’s reflection. "Perhaps. I just... felt like putting myself in order."
It seemed as if he were carefully weighing his words, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Dan Heng looked away, not wanting it to sound like a reproach.
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," he added calmly. "It's just... you've been cleaning the exact same feather for half an hour."
Sunday froze for a moment, looked at his reflection, and let out a quiet huff.
"Do you think it's too much?"
Dan Heng shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe?"
For a few seconds, Sunday simply stared at himself in the mirror. Then slowly, with almost deliberate carelessness, he stowed all the jars and brushes back into the drawer.
"Alright," he said without turning around. "I'll leave it for later then. It's time for breakfast anyway."
His voice sounded calm, even habitually soft, but Dan Heng caught something subtly altered in his tone. A faint weariness, perhaps? Or was it disappointment? But why?
He wanted to say something, to explain that he hadn't meant anything bad by it, but he couldn't find the right words. Sunday was already heading for the door, looking, in Dan Heng’s eyes, very much like a chick ruffled up in offense. Dan Heng remained sitting on the bed, watching him leave the cabin.
Following this obsessive attention to his own appearance, Sunday began, seemingly by accident, to display a heightened interest in Dan Heng himself. Time and again, he would walk over to smooth out a stray lock of hair that only Sunday seemed to notice. He would brush invisible dust off Dan Heng’s clothes and try to flatten barely perceptible wrinkles. It bordered on the absurd when Sunday suddenly interrupted their conversation, stepping closer just to... pick a stray hair off his jacket.
Dan Heng could only blink in confusion at all of this, trying to figure out what he was missing. Had Sunday’s pedantry and neatness simply reached a whole new level?
And then there were the sounds. He had heard Sunday make guttural trills before, somewhat reminiscent of bird cooing. Which wasn't surprising, overall. Dan Heng couldn't always control his own animalistic traits either, and saw nothing strange in it. But usually, this happened strictly in private, in moments of intimacy when they lacked the strength to suppress their natural instincts.
Now, though, it felt as if Sunday were losing control over himself, letting out quiet chirps time and again. And it wasn't that this was a problem. Aside from Dan Heng, no one else on the Express possessed keen enough hearing to catch those barely audible sounds. But every time Dan Heng turned inquisitively toward the source, he’d notice Sunday shyly pressing his small cheek-wings against his face, trying to hide a blush.
It was cute. And at the same time, concerning.
Dan Heng understood that for members of other species, physical habits, reactions, and sounds were part of the natural expression of emotion. He had seen Sunday show affection in his own ways time and again: through touches, gentle glances, small caring gestures. But right now, all of it felt as though it were overflowing.
It was as though Sunday didn't just want to be near, but desperately needed to make sure it was him standing beside Dan Heng. That Dan Heng was right here, looking at him, noticing him, and feeling his presence.
At times, Dan Heng caught himself thinking: was this some sort of display?
"Sunday," he called out softly one day, just as the Halovian made another attempt to straighten the collar of his coat.
Sunday frozed, his fingers hovering mid-air, while a quiet coo seemed to snap abruptly before it could even leave his throat.
"Is everything alright?" Dan Heng pressed gently.
"Everything is fine," Sunday replied entirely too quickly, forcing a smile that was far too tight. "Just... you looked a bit untidy."
"This doesn't sound like you," Dan Heng noted calmly. "You seem... nervous."
"Nervous?" He let out a soft chuckle, though his eyes darted to the side. "No, it's just... I want everything to be perfect."
He reached for Dan Heng's shoulder once more, but this time, Dan Heng gently intercepted his hand. Sunday's skin was warm, almost hot, and a faint tremor hummed beneath his fingers.
"Everything is already perfect," Dan Heng said quietly. "You don't need to strain yourself like this."
Sunday merely nodded, leaving the words unanswered. Only his small face-wings quivered almost imperceptibly, as if holding back a sudden reflex. Yet, something flickered deep in his eyes – something Dan Heng couldn't quite decipher back then.
By the fifth day, Dan Heng noticed that Sunday's appetite had grown significantly. The Halovian was constantly nibbling on something, seemingly unable to ever truly feel full, which was just as uncharacteristic of him as everything that had come before.
And if only it had stopped with Sunday alone. Sunday seemed to consider it his solemn duty to bring food to the dragon as well. Food, plenty of it. No, seriously.
First came a bowl of noodles, "just in case," as Sunday himself excused it. Then a bowl of fruit, because one had to offset the spicy noodles with something sweet. A few hours later, tea. Then sweet buns. Then more tea. Before Dan Heng could even state that he wasn't hungry, another plate of something hot and fragrant would appear in front of him, smuggled right out from under Pom-Pom's nose. How he managed it remained a mystery. And Sunday himself, as mentioned, was constantly eating too.
March and Caelus didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, far too absorbed in their own affairs – mostly playing video games in the latter's room – while Welt and Himeko merely chuckled softly at the whole situation, choosing not to intervene. Only the Conductor grumbled quietly under her breath about how, at this rate, their food supplies would run dry long before their next refueling stop.
And then, the physical affection. Oh, gods, Sunday clung to him like a leech, as though striving to spend every single spare minute in the dragon's company. Of course, Dan Heng wasn't complaining by any means, in fact, he gladly wrapped his heavy dragon tail around Sunday's slender waist.
But it was strange. Strange for Sunday.
The final nail in the coffin came on the sixth day, during an incident in the parlor car. Dan Heng was sitting on the couch, trying to focus on a report he was reviewing on his tablet. Welt and Himeko were chatting softly at the far end of the car over cups of coffee, staying out of the way to avoid disturbing anyone. Meanwhile, Caelus was earnestly trying to prove a point to March 7th, shoving his smartphone screen into her face. March looked entirely unconvinced, staring at her friend with utter skepticism.
Sunday was simply standing by the panoramic window, gazing at the stars drifting past. An idyll, to put it simply. And even though Dan Heng’s thoughts kept wandering back to his lover’s strange behavior, for now, everything felt cozy and ordinary.
Deep in his work, Dan Heng didn’t notice right away that the corner where March and Caelus were sitting had gone suspiciously quiet. When he finally looked up, an icy wave washed down his spine.
The scene before him was absurd to the point of ridiculousness: Caelus was backing away toward the far end of the car, clutching a glowing halo in his hands, while March 7th tiptoed beside him, casting anxious glances toward Sunday while failing miserably to hide her curiosity. Sunday remained by the window, completely absorbed in stargazing, clearly feeling no discomfort whatsoever from the loss.
"Caelus," Dan Heng said – not loudly, but sharply – already rising from the couch.
It was too late. Caelus flinched at the sound of his voice and, caught off guard, abruptly let go of the halo, throwing his hands up in surrender. Beside him, March sheepishly buried her face in her hand.
Welt and Himeko turned at the commotion, looking over in confusion. That very second, the halo Caelus had released in fright snapped right back toward its owner, flying across the entire car. Before anyone could utter a word, the ring struck the back of Sunday’s head with a dull clink.
Sunday jerked, letting out a short chirp, and fluttered his face-wings. From the impact, the halo bounced, wobbled in mid-air, and obediently hovered above his head, glowing with a soft golden light as if nothing had happened.
Sunday slowly turned around. His hand reached for the back of his head, and his wide eyes darkened with offense before welling up with tears. In silence, he looked first at Caelus, who looked guilty as sin, and then at March 7th, who looked ready to sink through the floorboards. Dan Heng froze, staring at Sunday in disbelief.
"Hey, what's wrong...?" Caelus was the first to snap back to reality, taking a hesitant step forward. "Did that really hurt...?"
Sunday’s lips trembled, and the first traitorous tear fell down his cheek. To say Dan Heng was terrified would be an understatement. Sure, Caelus and March overstepped at times, but this... He had never seen Sunday so childishly hurt.
"Sunday, what..." Dan Heng began, reaching out a hand.
But the Halovian turned sharply on his heel, his wings puffing up from a nervous shudder, scattering several feathers across the floor.
"Sunday, wait!" March 7th cried out, lunging forward. "We didn't mean to!"
"It was just a joke!" Caelus added, his voice sounding genuinely alarmed by the outcome of his prank.
But the sliding door to the next car had already shut with a hiss, leaving behind only silence and a few snow-white feathers floating gently in the air.
And now, Dan Heng was sitting on the couch beside Welt, his tail tapping nervously against the upholstery as he waited for the older man’s reply.
Welt listened to his tangled explanation without interrupting. When Dan Heng fell silent, a stillness hung over the car, broken only by the ticking of a clock.
"The nature of sapient beings is often difficult for an outsider to comprehend," Welt finally said, his voice calm and measured. "Especially when it comes to things as deep as emotional attachment. I'm no expert in Halovian biology, but..." He paused, looking at Dan Heng. "Our database holds a vast amount of information. Perhaps you should look there? Sometimes the simplest answers hide in the most unexpected places."
He gestured meaningfully toward the door leading to the archive.
Dan Heng raised his eyebrows in surprise, but nodded anyway, looking at Welt with gratitude. Welt merely waved a hand as if to say it's nothing, and returned to the sketch resting on his table.
Dan Heng spent the next few hours in the archive, his eyes glued to the screens. The dim light reflected softly off the metal panels as the terminal fans hummed rhythmically. The familiar sounds usually had a calming effect, but not today.
He scrolled through document after document: biological articles, ethnographic notes, researchers' reports, medical journals. Keywords flickered in the search bar one after another.
Until finally, the system produced the exact record he needed – a brief excerpt from a study dated several decades ago.
Flipping through a few pages, Dan Heng paused at a specific paragraph. The text looked dry and academic, but the further he read, the more realization dawned on his face.
When he reached the sections titled Nesting Habits and Excessive Attention Toward a Partner, he involuntarily closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh.
A small smile touched his lips, and he shook his head softly.
"Of course," he muttered, running a hand over his face. "I should have guessed."
His fingers automatically shut off the terminal. The weight on his chest lifted slightly, and the anxious confusion finally gave way to clarity.
And perhaps a slight touch of embarrassment.
It was time to go. It seemed someone was truly waiting for him.
***
Sunday lay with his face buried in the pillow, which still retained a faint trace of Dan Heng’s scent. He could hear the muffled hum of the train’s engine and the soft, hurried pitter-patter of Pom-Pom’s feet as the Conductor passed by the door. But his mind was occupied with something completely different.
Shifting once again in an attempt to find a comfortable position and arrange his large pair of wings without anything getting in the way, he twitched slightly. His entire body was burning with heat. He fidgeted on the bed once more, feeling the wetness throbbing traitorously between his legs. It was unbearable. And what made it even more agonizing was the fact that Dan Heng had been ignoring all his attempts to get his attention.
For a whole week, he had fussed over him in every way possible, preening himself just so his partner would look at him. So that he would want him. He had spent hours cleaning his feathers until every single one lay perfectly flat. He brought him food, trying to please him and show his care. He touched him at every given opportunity – straightening his collar, brushing away nonexistent dirt – just to feel the warmth of his skin.
And all he got in return were bewildered looks. Was he really that bad at expressing his desires and needs?
Or was he simply repulsive to Dan Heng?
It would make sense. After all, Dan Heng was a Vidyadhara. Things like reproduction or a mating season were completely alien to his kind. To Dan Heng, he probably looked like nothing more than a degenerate animal, but Dan Heng was far too polite and well-mannered to say it out loud.
And then that situation in the parlor car... It hadn't hurt him, not at all. The halo weighed almost nothing and could hardly cause any real harm. But the mere fact that the people he trusted had thought – and actually dared – to play such a joke on him at that exact moment had stirred up a whole storm of offense and anger inside him. It was literally a part of his body, even if not an obvious one; hardly anyone would find it funny if their arm or leg were ripped off for a laugh. It didn't matter that it wasn't a fair comparison. He knew his violent reaction was fueled by temporary hormonal shifts, but knowing that didn't make dealing with his own emotional instability any easier.
He squeezed the pillow tighter, trying to choke back the tears welling up once more. He really was behaving disgustingly.
The cabin door slid open.
Sunday froze, holding his breath. Behind him came the familiar, firm footsteps and the sound of the door closing shut. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. The last thing he wanted right now was to see indifference on that beloved face. Soon the mating season would end, and they would forget all about this like a bad dream. Life would return to its normal rhythm; he just had to wait it out.
The footsteps approached the bed. The mattress dipped softly under Dan Heng’s weight, warm breath brushed against his ear, and a low voice whispered:
"I can hear you holding your breath."
Sunday shuddered, but didn't turn around. Shame and despair paralyzed him, sending a tremor cascading down his spine.
Suddenly, Dan Heng’s lips pressed a soft kiss to his neck, making Sunday’s entire body jerk. Fingers slid beneath the fabric of his form-fitting shirt, a warm palm resting over his tense stomach.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Dan Heng whispered into his skin, peppering words with kisses as his lips moved toward one of the small face-wings near his ear.
Sunday finally turned around, forcing Dan Heng to pause. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"I thought..." Sunday’s voice was thick with embarrassment and lingering hurt. "I thought you saw it all. That I... that my behavior... disgusted you."
Dan Heng’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His fingers gently touched Sunday’s cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. His heavy tail wrapped tightly around Sunday’s leg, squeezing softly.
"Disgusted?" he repeated softly, genuine shock echoing in his voice. "Sunday, how could you even think that?"
Dan Heng leaned in, catching his lips in a tender kiss before pulling back slightly, forcing Sunday to look him in the eye.
"I spent the last three hours in the archive reading every article and study I could find. Because I couldn't understand what was happening to you. And because I was worried that something was wrong, that you were sick and just stubborn enough to keep quiet about it."
Dan Heng’s hand slid below his belly, slipping between his parted legs to press his palm directly against his core. Sunday let out a quiet whimper, turning away because his neck was stiff from the awkward angle. His hips rolled involuntarily against Dan Heng's hand.
"You could never be repulsive to me. Not in any way," Dan Heng murmured against his reddened ear, nipping gently at the lobe.
His hand kept pressing through the fabric, and Sunday arched his back with a quiet moan. The wetness between his legs was undeniable. He felt completely soaked through, his vagina throbbing with the desperate need to take his partner's cock inside.
Unable to endure it any longer, Sunday pulled back only to turn around the next second and crash his lips into Dan Heng’s. His hands grabbed onto the dragon's broad shoulders, fingers clutching the fabric of his sweater. His entire body trembled with shame, relief, and a desperate need he could no longer hide.
Dan Heng froze for a fraction of a second in surprise, but then responded with equal intensity. His arms wrapped around the Halovian’s waist, pulling him flush against him. Their kiss was wet and frantic, slick with saliva. Without breaking away from Sunday’s mouth, Dan Heng felt for the fastener of his trousers and, making quick work of it, slid his hand under his underwear. Sunday gasped, moaning softly into the kiss before pulling back to catch his breath.
"Take them off," Sunday pleaded on a ragged exhale.
Dan Heng didn't need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he stripped the pants and underwear off Sunday, tossing them onto the floor. His own turtleneck quickly followed.
But Sunday didn't let him do the same with the rest of his clothes, pouncing on him once more like a ravenous beast. The embarrassment in his eyes was gone, replaced by a scorching desire to claim what was his right here and now. Unashamed, he rubbed his wet, slick-drenched pussy against Dan Heng's leg, trying to reach release by any means necessary.
With some effort, Dan Heng managed to detach the heavily breathing Sunday was staring spellbound at the thread of saliva connecting their lips, and fell back against the pillows. Sunday snapped back to reality for a second, looking at him in confusion.
"Come here," Dan Heng coaxed, raising his head slightly as his tail coiled around Sunday's waist. Sunday hovered uncertainly, staring down at the man beneath him.
"Dan Heng, what are you...?"
Instead of answering, Dan Heng gripped his thighs tighter, guiding him higher up. Sunday grabbed onto the headboard, blinking in confusion. He tried to pull back, but the hands pinned over his buttocks wouldn't allow it. His thighs trembled from the strain; holding himself in such a pose while so aroused was no easy task.
"Sit," Dan Heng said, pulling Sunday lower with his tail.
Feeling warm breath against her labia, Sunday let out an involuntary, quiet chirp. The wings at his lower back fluttered, and his cheeks flushed deep red.
When a wet tongue stroked all the way from the entrance to his clitoris, Sunday shuddered, digging his fingers deeper into the headboard as a soft coo tore from his chest. Dan Heng let out a low chuckle, pressing harder on his thighs and virtually forcing Sunday to sit on his face.
Sunday couldn't resist any longer. His knees buckled, and he sank his full weight onto the awaiting lips. He cried out as Dan Heng’s tongue located the sensitive bundle of nerves, eagerly taking the clitoris into his mouth and sucking on it. Pulling back for a split second, Dan Heng blew gently on the swollen nub, and feeling the body above him tremble violently, sealed his lips over it once more.
"Dan..." Sunday’s name broke off into a ragged moan. His hips twitched instinctively, trying to push against the tongue feasting on his flushed folds. One of his hands slipped downward, gripping a golden horn. Taken off guard, Dan Heng let out a muffled moan deep from his throat, sending a wave of vibrations straight through Sunday’s body. The tail around his waist tightened slightly, cool scales digging into the soft skin beneath his shirt, which had long since hitched up, before relaxing its grip a second later.
"Dan Heng... I'm about to..."
His voice broke on a high note, his body tensing and straightening like an arrow.
In response, he felt the tongue beneath him work faster, pressing harder against his clitoris. Dan Heng buried his face in him, licking every fold, every inch, drinking in the heat of the body hovering over him. Slick squelched loudly with every motion of his mouth, stoking the fire even higher. Sunday desperately wanted to look down and see Dan Heng's face slicked with his own release.
"Please..." Sunday whimpered. The sensations were overwhelming, far beyond anything words could capture. Tears welled up in his eyes against his will. "I... I..."
The words fractured, turning into a drawn-out moan. His body arched in orgasm, hot fluid gushing onto Dan Heng’s chin and cheeks, dripping profusely down his skin and neck. The spasms rippled through him, squeezing out every last drop while he trembled, clinging to the headboard with all his strength.
Dan Heng didn't pull away, greedily swallowing and licking up every drop. When Sunday finally went limp and collapsed onto him, the Vidyadhara gently used his tail around his waist to pull him up, settling him onto his chest. He slowly ran his fingers across his wet face, his gaze fixed on the Halovian, who seemed completely out of it, reeling from the aftershocks of pleasure.
Dan Heng smiled, bringing his fingers to Sunday's lips.
"Open up," he commanded softly, and Sunday obediently parted his lips, breathing heavily.
Fingers slick with the scent of his own fluid slid inside. Sunday closed his eyes, tasting the salty flavor of his own orgasm. It was strange and impossibly thrilling all at once.
The fingers slipped out of his mouth, glistening with saliva. Sunday’s eyes, clouded with pleasure just seconds ago, flared up again with a dark, demanding fire. He was still sitting on Dan Heng’s chest, his thighs pressing against the dragon’s sides of their own accord. Before Sunday could utter a word, Dan Heng pulled him closer, forcing him to lean down. He claimed his mouth in a demanding kiss, savoring the taste of the orgasm on his tongue.
Without breaking the kiss, Dan Heng’s hand slid down Sunday's back and cupped a buttock, lightly tugging the skin. Sunday shuddered, pressing closer. Gathering the slick with his fingers, Dan Heng spread his labia, teasing the walls before finding his clitoris and stroking it with deliberate, rhythmic movements. Sunday twitched as if struck by a cramp, leaning in with a ragged gasp, trying to impale himself further on those fingers. Dan Heng didn't hesitate. Two fingers thrust inside sharply, stretching the wet, burning muscles. Sunday cried out, his body arching as every joint and tendon snapped taut.
"You're so sensitive..." Dan Heng rasped into the kiss, twisting his fingers deeper. His thumb kept pressing against the clitoris, sending a wave of muscle spasms through him.
Inside, Sunday was on fire. His abdominal muscles contracted wildly, his thighs trembling. Breathing was difficult; thinking was impossible. There was only raw feeling left, and the deep, solid presence of those long fingers stretching him. The dark wings behind him quivered weakly, while the secondary pair pressed against his face in an attempt to hide. Soft white feathers tickled the dragon's face, making him smile through the kiss.
Sunday suddenly pulled back. His breathing was heavy, and a stubborn determination flared in his eyes. He backed off just enough for his trembling fingers to find the buckle on Dan Heng’s pants.
"Stop it…," his shaking fingers fumbled with the fastener. "I can't wait anymore..."
Dan Heng’s blue eyes met his burning gaze, reflecting the exact same impatience. His hand covered Sunday’s, helping him release the buckle. As both erect cocks sprang free, Sunday rose on trembling knees, bracing one hand against the abs beneath him. His own slick trickled down the insides of his thighs. With his other hand, he guided the first cock to his entrance, which was still throbbing with the echoes of his orgasm. The tip of the tail around his waist flickered impatiently.
Sunday began to sink down – slowly, excruciatingly slowly. The head stretched his entrance, turning his exhale into a broken moan. He descended deeper and deeper, feeling the hot shaft part his inner walls. Dan Heng let out a soft hiss, shifting his palms to Sunday’s lower back, his thumbs massaging the base of his wings. Sunday let out a quiet moan at the touch, a fresh rush of slick spilling from his already drenched pussy.
The second cock slid over his swollen clitoris, and both of them groaned in unison – Sunday from a sharp, almost painful pleasure, and Dan Heng from the sheer tightness and friction.
Once he had taken the first cock all the way in, while the second continued to press firmly against his clitoris from the outside, Sunday froze. His breathing was ragged, a fine tremor running through his body. He felt every pulse inside him, every shift of Dan Heng’s muscles beneath him.
"You okay?" Dan Heng finally exhaled, his fingers tenderly preening the feathers near the base of his wings.
Sunday could only nod, biting his lip. Then he tentatively moved his hips. It was a short movement, but enough to send a shiver straight down his spine. His inner muscles clamped around the shaft, forcing a low moan from Dan Heng's throat. The second shaft slid over his sensitive clitoris with a wet sound.
"More," Sunday gasped, moving his hips with growing confidence.
He lifted himself nearly all the way off, feeling the cock almost slip out, only to sink back down and swallow it whole again. His eyes were closed, his entire focus consumed by the sensations, the friction inside, the pressure outside, and the fingers digging into his lower back by his wings. The slow, deep movements gave way to desperate, needy thrusts. Sunday lost himself in the pleasure, his wings spreading and trembling behind his back with every stroke, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks and dripping onto the dragon's stomach. Dan Heng could have stared at the sight forever.
The space around them filled with their shared pleasure – Dan Heng’s raspy breaths, Sunday’s broken sobs, the wet, rhythmic sound of their joining. Sunday threw his head back, his fingers digging into Dan Heng's abs. He moved faster and faster, as if trying to melt into Dan Heng completely, chasing another release.
Then, Sunday suddenly stopped, leaving just the head of the cock at his entrance. His chest heaved, tears continuing to trace paths down his red cheeks.
"Sunday?" Dan Heng asked, caught off guard.
In response, Sunday reached down for the second cock, guiding it toward his stretched entrance with a trembling hand.
"I need... I want... both..." he gasped out. And before Dan Heng could say a word, he slammed himself down, taking both shafts at once.
Dan Heng’s body arched like a bow. A loud moan tore from his chest as his head fell back against the pillows, his eyes rolling up into his head. The sensation was overwhelming – an agonizing, burning tightness, and the frantic pulsing of Sunday’s inner walls clamping down on him with incredible force. His fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles turning white with strain to avoid leaving bruises on the Halovian’s pale skin.
Sunday froze in place, his body stiffening from the excruciating fullness. Air hissed past his lips, his eyes wide. The small face-wings froze along with him, damp and matted in places from salty tears. Both cocks filled him to the absolute brim, stretching and burning him from the inside out.
"Sunday?" Dan Heng’s voice was laced with alarm. His hands returned to the Halovian’s hips, squeezing gently. "Is it too much? I can..."
He tried to lift his body slightly, using his tail to ease the penetration, but Sunday abruptly clutched his wrists.
"No!" his voice was weak, yet surprisingly firm. He took a deep, shuddering breath, adjusting to the intense sensation. "Don't. Just... give me a second."
His inner muscles contracted tightly around the shafts once more, eliciting a strained groan from Dan Heng.
"We've never... this could be dangerous..." Dan Heng tried to protest, but Sunday slowly rolled his hips again, catching all objections in his throat.
The movement was tiny, barely perceptible, but it was enough to send goosebumps cascading across Sunday’s skin. A deep moan escaped his chest. Already stretched to the limit, his inner walls spasmed, feeling every raised vein on the shafts inside him.
It felt so good.
His rhythm remained slow, but persistent. He adapted to the double penetration, finding an angle that brought far more pleasure than discomfort. Suddenly, he hit it – the exact spot that made his entire body tremble, tearing a high-pitched sound of pure ecstasy from his throat.
"There..." he could barely speak, his wings quivering. "Right there..."
His hand moved down to his groin, where their bodies met and melded into one. Slender fingers found his clitoris, stimulating the nub with smooth, deliberate strokes. Double stimulation – from the inside and the outside – unlocked something transcendent within him. His breathing turned ragged, tears streamed unchecked down his cheeks, and his eyes rolled back. It was all too much.
"Yes... just like that..." Sunday panted, his movements growing faster and more demanding. Wet, squelching sounds mixed with loud, rhythmic slaps echoed throughout the cabin. "I want... you to... fill me..."
Dan Heng exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into the Halovian’s thighs. There was no trace of lucid thought left in Sunday’s voice; he had completely surrendered to his instincts, letting his biology take full control.
"Sunday..." Dan Heng’s voice sounded more like a guttural growl.
"Everything... I want every drop..." he bit his lip, his body arching. "I want your seed inside me... I want to carry our clutch..."
The slow, measured pace gave way to frantic, hard thrusts. Dan Heng could no longer hold back; his hips met Sunday’s movements with powerful, upward drives. His hands shifted from his thighs to the base of his wings, gripping them almost painfully tight. His tail coiled firmly around Sunday's waist, anchoring him even closer.
"Dan Heng...!" Sunday cried out, his body trembling on the brink of orgasm. "Please... fill me up... pour all your seed deep inside my womb, I beg you...!"
Those words broke the last dam. With a guttural roar, Dan Heng lost all remaining control. His hips snapped upward in violent thrusts, driving both shafts as deep as physically possible. His eyes rolled back, his head thrashed against the pillows, and the last fragments of his consciousness crumbled into dust, leaving only all-consuming pleasure in their place.
Wet, slick squelches blended with ringing moans and deep, rumbling growls. Sunday felt an unbearable tension coil in the deepest depths of his abdomen while his hand frantically worked his clitoris, completely oblivious to any rhythm. He didn't care. His insides cramped around the two cocks, squeezing out the final remnants of his sanity. His cry shattered into a desperate scream as his body arched in a powerful orgasm. His inner muscles spasmed relentlessly, clutching and milking the shafts filling him.
That proved to be the final trigger for Dan Heng. Sunday gasped as the knots at the base of the cocks swelled and locked tightly inside him, completely sealing in everything that might have spilled out. A hot, pulsing surge flooded his depths, wringing a quiet, broken moan from him. They froze, locked together in the most intimate connection imaginable, as the waves of pleasure slowly receded.
Exhausted, Sunday began to slump forward, instantly caught by gentle, caring arms. Dan Heng caught him softly, being careful not to disturb the knot binding them below, and pulled Sunday down to rest on his chest. He wrapped his arms around the Halovian, carefully adjusting his wings so that nothing caused discomfort. One hand rested on his back between his shoulder blades, feeling his heavy, ragged breathing, while the other buried itself in the hair at the nape of his neck, massaging tenderly.
Sunday made a slight movement as if to shift away, but was stopped by a soft voice and a tightening grip.
"Shh, easy," Dan Heng soothed him, holding him in place. "The knot won't go down for a couple of hours. Don't rush. You'll hurt yourself."
Sunday let out a lazy, muffled gurgle into his chest, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and sank back down. Dan Heng continued to gently run his fingers through Sunday’s hair, feeling the tension slowly drain from the Halovian’s body. Silence settled over the cabin, broken only by their synchronized breathing and the steady hum of the engines.
Sunday pressed his cheek to Dan Heng's chest, listening to the steady thrum of the heart beneath his skin. A feeling of profound, almost primal satisfaction blended with a lazy, heavy exhaustion.
Dan Heng slowly uncoiled his tail from Sunday’s waist. The flexible muscle slid off the edge of the bed, caught the discarded blanket, and deftly pulled it over them both. Warmth spread over their bodies, mingling with the heat of their skin and the scent of their intimacy. Sunday’s breathing gradually evened out, deepening into steady, quiet sighs.
***
"And yet, why didn't you just tell me?"
Dan Heng's voice softly carried through the warm, steam-filled air of the bathroom. He was carefully rinsing the foam from the wings on Sunday's lower back, his fingers tenderly smoothing down the wet feathers.
Sunday sat cross-legged in the warm water, feeling those attentive fingers untangle the damp plumage on his left wing. He kept silent for so long that Dan Heng had almost assumed he hadn't been heard, when Sunday finally spoke up.
"I told you... at first, I thought you already knew," he finally said softly, gazing down at the water. "And then... I started to think you were simply enduring it. That I really was acting like an animal, and you were just too polite to say it to my face."
Dan Heng paused for a moment, his fingers still resting against the wet wing. Then, he gently turned Sunday's face toward him, forcing him to meet his gaze. Sunday – the ever-brilliant Sunday – sometimes seemed like an absolute fool to him.
"Sunday, I am a Vidyadhara. My species has no such thing as a mating season or even courtship rituals," he began quietly, running a hand over Sunday's cheek to wash away traces of foam. His tail splashed restless ripples in the water. "It didn't even cross my mind that you were in heat. And how could you possibly think that I found you repulsive?"
"Because you are always so... composed. Perfect," Sunday exhaled, lowering his eyes. The water around them suddenly felt cold. "And I was acting possessed. Hoarding your clothes, trailing after you, crying over a silly prank, gods, as if they don't always fool around like that..."
"You were showing your affection for me," Dan Heng corrected him, his fingers beginning to gently untangle his pale hair. His tail slid discreetly behind Sunday's back, drawing his head closer. "In your own way. And I am sorry I didn't realize it sooner." He leaned in closer, ensuring Sunday heard every word clearly. "You are part of this crew. My part. And your nature is just as beautiful as everything else about you."
He pulled back slightly to look Sunday straight in the eyes, making sure he truly heard and understood.
Sunday froze, his eyes wide. Words spoken so simply and directly seemed to rob him of his speech for a moment. Then he gave a slow nod, and a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of his lips.
Before Dan Heng could add anything more, Sunday closed the remaining distance between them, catching his lips in a kiss. It was no gentle, comforting kiss, but a needy one, brimming with a sudden reignition of passion.
When Dan Heng broke away to catch his breath, his gaze slid down the Halovian's body before meeting those burning eyes once more. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"Again?" he whispered, his own breathing already growing ragged as a familiar warmth pooled in his lower abdomen.
His answer was another, even more demanding kiss. This time, Dan Heng didn't resist, allowing his tail to instantly wrap around Sunday's waist, pulling him flush against him in the warm water.
The morning had only just begun.