[Flights of Fancy] Finding Home 03
Jun. 4th, 2018 06:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Finding Home
Characters: Drift, Perceptor, Original Character(s)
Universe: Flights of Fancy, Harpyformers
Rating: M
Enticements: Sexual Content, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Love at First Sight
Description: Perceptor’s spent so long among the humans, he’s almost forgotten how much he misses other harpies, until Drift wanders into Kaon, a pretty package of everything Perceptor never knew he wanted.
Chapter Three
Time spent with Drift quickly became the highlight of Perceptor’s days.
While Drift recovered, Perceptor taught him English, impressed by how quick of a study he was. Within a month’s time, he was able to carry on a conversation with Jessica on his own, though some of the more complicated concepts required explanation here and there.
He was able to interact with the other humans as well. He could go to the greenhouse on his own, and purchase every plant he wanted. Especially with Artemis’ assistance. The two of them became fast friends.
Drift was an absolute delight. While most harpies would have been hesitant to learn more about humans, once Drift realized Kaon was safe, he threw himself into their culture. He was eager to sample their foods, their entertainment.
He loved movies with a voracity Perceptor found endearing. He’d sit in front of the television with attached VCR player – easier for harpy fingers to finagle – and push in movie after movie, while he consumed popcorn like it was its own food group. He was particularly fond of the foreign action films with their choreographed fight scenes, their terribly dubbed voice acting, and absurd premises.
A month passed. Two.
Spring turned to Summer, hot and humid. The campus emptied as students went home for the semester, and only a small number remained behind. It was quieter, less busy, but no less engaging. It also granted them more freedom, as there were less students to stare, and less students to bother.
Not everyone was as comfortable with a harpy on the premises as Jessica and Artemis.
Perceptor had grown used to his solitude while he conducted his research. But Drift was a welcome interruption. He was fascinated by everything. He asked questions. Or he sat silently if Perceptor asked him to do so, often times curled up with a book – children’s readers at first, and then more advanced novels as his English vocabulary broadened. His hands were as nimble as Perceptor’s own, so when Perceptor needed an extra pair of them, Drift leapt into action.
Drift’s room became a mini-greenhouse with all of the plants he collected. They hung in the windows and draped over the shelves and grew across the walls – in the case of the devil’s ivy. He seemed to have a green thumb, encouraging his flora to grow with very little effort. It delighted him, this small ability, and his eyes were bright and his smile broad as he introduced Perceptor to each new acquisition.
Some of them even had names. Drift squirmed and rubbed the back of his head as he pointed to his very first purchase, the cactus Perceptor had given him as a gift, and said he’d named it ‘Percy’.
Summer grew hotter and heavier. Perceptor introduced Drift to the pool, and while the scent of chlorine and bleach was nauseating, the cool water was a blessing. Drift took to water like a duck. He splashed in the pool like a youngling, and Perceptor resolved to one day take him to Glass Lake, below Glass Falls.
Late evenings found Drift practicing with his sword. He ran through a series of exercises, body moving in elegant shapes and twirls, the sword an extension of his arm.
There was a courtyard in the local quad, and Drift found it the perfect space for his exercises. Perceptor watched as often as he could, enraptured by the motions, and the focus on Drift’s face. Often, they drew a crowd of human admirers, and Drift always flushed when they bombarded him with questions. Jessica filmed him more than a few times.
“For research,” she said with a wink.
Perceptor might have asked her for copies of the videos.
Jessica and Drift spent many hours, heads bent together, Jessica diligently scribbling down notes while Drift talked of Tesaurus. Perceptor sat nearby, listening without comment. He’d never been to Tesaurus, but he’d heard it had a very warrior-like culture, and to go by Drift’s tales, the rumors were correct. Hierarchies were constructed around one’s skill with a sword.
When asked why he left, Drift changed the subject.
Even in private, he would only say, “It wasn’t home,” a shadow passing through his eyes. Perceptor didn’t push.
Drift would share when he was ready. Or never. It was entirely up to him. His past was his own business. Sometimes, wounds weren’t ready to be lanced.
Perceptor let it be.
Time passed slowly, but not the drag of day by day drudgery. Rather, it was the savoring of moments, where loneliness evaporated in the heat of the summer sun and Drift by his side. Perceptor had gotten accustomed to being alone. He’d thought Drift’s constant presence in his life – shared meal times, walks, personal interests – would grate soon enough.
That it never did was a sign. For weeks, Perceptor wasn’t sure what that sign was.
It wasn’t until Drift smiled at him, before he tasted crème brulee for the first time, and Perceptor’s core throbbed that he realized he might be in trouble. Drift’s soft moan of utter delight had shot heat elsewhere, and Perceptor found himself interested in another for the first time in his life.
He’d had partners before, of course, but was more a matter of happenstance rather than desire or need. It was a thing one did. It was a biological urge. His partners had been diligent and adequate, and he’d walked away satisfied, at least physically. He’d never considered himself discontented in any other way because no other criteria had been important to him.
Therefore the desire to taste Drift, to see if he were as sweet as the dessert, baffled him. For the first time, Perceptor wanted, and it threw him for a loop. He didn’t know what to do with such a desire.
He begged off breakfast the next day, citing the need for utter silence for a complicated equation, because he needed the time and solitude to examine his feelings. To examine his wants, such odd and unusual sensations he’d never had stirring in his belly. He paced the circumference of the room, hands clasped behind his back, muttering to himself.
There was of course one rather large question: did he truly desire Drift, or was it merely because Drift was the first harpy Perceptor had interacted with for a decade? That one was easy enough to answer. If Drift had been an unkind, uncouth person who wrinkled Perceptor’s nose, and he still desired Drift, then it was only biology. But Drift was kind and funny, charming and gentle. Liking him was the easy part.
Desiring him was the mystery. Drift was visually appealing. He had a striking appearance, and his somewhat lopsided smile was absolutely charming. Perceptor had been around many smols in Tyger Pax, smols of average intelligence and genius intelligence, who were both gorgeous and plain, and none of them had made his core throb the way Drift did.
He could therefore only conclude that he did, in fact, like Drift. Not just because his body had a need and wanted Drift to satisfy it, but because his core had a desire, and felt Drift matched what Perceptor sought in a mate. How unexpected.
What were the chances, Perceptor pondered. How lucky that Drift should find his way to Kaon and be the only harpy Perceptor had ever met who he genuinely desired. How fortuitous.
How… terrifying.
Whatever was he to do next?
Perceptor spun at the end of his route and started pacing again.
He suspected the courtship rituals in Tesaurus vastly differed from what was called courtship in Tyger Pax. In many ways, Tyger Pax was a lot simpler. If you were interested in another harpy, you simply stated so, and they either declined or accepted the other, scheduling it for a moment convenient to both parties. Sometimes, more than one party if invited.
Drift, however, was shy. Skittish even. A frank request might ruin the friendship they’d built. Above all else, Perceptor didn’t want to lose Drift as a friend. He did not know how casual rutting could be among the Tesaurans.
Did he dare risk that friendship for a chance at something more? Or should he be content with what they had already?
A quandary indeed.
Perhaps a few days of observation would tell. A chance to truly examine whether or not this was what he desired. Perhaps it was only a moment of whimsy, nothing more. He didn’t want to risk friendship over a flight of fancy. Better then to be cautious. Patient.
Fortunately, Perceptor had both in spades.
He only wished he had someone in whom to confide. A confidant, so to speak. Jessica was trustworthy, but she could sometimes let her zest for her research override her common sense. He wanted advice, not for his attraction to be put under a microscope.
His door chimed.
Perceptor stopped mid-stride, cocking his head with curiosity. Whoever could that be? It wasn’t as though he received many direct visitors. Most students were fine with seeing him out and about on campus, but they weren’t keen on being isolated near him.
He answered the door.
Drift stood on the other side, his hands tucked behind his back, a look of hesitation on his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting your calculations,” he said with a worried smile.
Perceptor’s core throbbed again. “Not at all.” He stepped aside. “Come on in. I was actually about to see if you wanted to join me for lunch.”
“Definitely!” Drift perked up, his crest feathers twitching. “But um, first. I wanted to give you something.”
Perceptor shut the door. “Oh?” He turned to face Drift, who’d paused in the middle of the room, hands still behind his back.
“It’s not much.” Drift’s face took on a rosy hue. One foot talon scraped at the carpet. “I was going to give it to you this morning, but you were busy. I didn’t want to wait anymore though. So...” He trailed off. “Anyway. Here you go.”
He brought his hands forward and shoved a brightly, if not haphazardly, wrapped package toward Perceptor. It was tied off with a neat ribbon, and Perceptor had to wonder if Drift had engaged a human’s assistance. The curlicues in the ribbon were difficult to pull off with talons.
“How kind,” Perceptor took care, but his talons still poked through the delicate wrapping. “But you did not have to get me anything.”
Drift ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I know, but I wanted to say thank you and well, I just wanted to.” His feather tufts ruffled.
Perceptor carefully plucked at the delicate, bright paper. “Then I will accept it for the kindness it is. Thank you, Drift.”
“It’s not much.” Drift’s fingers tangled together, shoulders hunched, like he was waiting to be chastised, and it broke Perceptor’s core.
Who had worked so hard to crush the gentleness within him?
“It is a gift from the core,” Perceptor murmured. “It will be much no matter what it is.”
No sooner had he spoken then the paper fell away, revealing an intriguing snarl of wire, gemstone, and colored glass. Perceptor grasped a visible, thick knot and pulled it up, his eyes widening in surprise. Wire draped down in a tangle, occasionally woven with well-placed gemstones. It sparkled in the light.
Not much?
Drift was sorely mistaken.
“Drift, this is beautiful.” He let it dangle from his fingers, and as it spun, rainbows danced on the walls. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you get this?”
Drift’s feather tufts twitched. “I made it.”
“You...” Perceptor was at a loss for words. Drift acted as though it was a terrible thing for him to have offered something handmade. As if it was mere garbage. “It’s amazing.”
“It’s just some scrap I put together. It’s nothing special.” Drift fidgeted and gnawed on his bottom lip. “I wanted to get you a new scope instead but--”
“But nothing.” Perceptor carefully placed the windchime on his desk and took Drift’s hands with his own, pulling him closer. “There is no gift treasured greater than that which comes from the core. Thank you.”
Drift’s eyes widened. His hands shook where Perceptor held them. Had he truly feared Perceptor would hate the gift?
“You really like it?” There was a note in his voice, disbelief and uncertainty mingled together, and Perceptor’s core gave another twang.
He wanted to sweep Drift into his arms and never let go. He wanted to kiss the smol senseless, whisper the most encouraging, true words into Drift’s ear. He wanted Drift to understand just how special he was.
And then he wanted to hunt down the harpy responsible for making him think otherwise.
“I do. I wonder how I became so lucky as to receive such a gift,” Perceptor said gently. He was bothered by how little Drift seemed to value his own efforts. Why did he consider himself so unworthy?
Drift sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before he released it. “I just wanted to give you something nice. Because…” He trailed off and abruptly found the floor fascinating.
Perceptor waited for Drift to finish, but silence seemed to have grabbed hold of him. He wouldn’t meet Perceptor’s eyes, but he also didn’t let go of Perceptor’s hands. If anything, he seemed to shift closer. A visible tremor ran through his body.
Perhaps..
Perhaps Drift had been not unlike Perceptor, grappling with unexpected emotion and wondering how to approach it. Was the gift a gesture? A single drop of courage to gauge how Perceptor felt about Drift in return?
There was only one thing to do.
Return Drift’s courage with a single drop of his own.
Perceptor freed one hand, but only so he could cup Drift’s cheek, encouraging Drift to look up at him. He shifted closer, until their faces were inches apart, and Drift’s beautiful blue eyes were focused on him.
“Because--” Perceptor swallowed over a lump of fright in his throat, “--because you wanted to show me that you care, yes?”
Drift’s hand twitched. His face warmed under Perceptor’s fingers. “If I said yes, would that ruin things for us?”
“Not at all.” Perceptor stroked over Drift’s cheek. “I care greatly for you as well.”
Drift’s lips parted on a surprised exhale. “What?”
“You are my friend, and I cherish you for that alone. But lately I’ve found myself wanting more. Desiring you as a lover does,” Perceptor explained. Another tremble ran through Drift before his free hand clasped onto Perceptor’s hip, talons shaking. “And if you’d allow me, I’d love to kiss you. May I?”
“Adaptus,” Drift breathed, his lips parting. His tongue flicked over them, making his mouth shiny-wet with invitation. “Yes, Perceptor. Yes, please do.”
Perceptor pressed his mouth over Drift’s, cutting off the breathy string of agreement, swallowing Drift’s startled inhale. Drift tasted sweet, like he’d been munching on the berries he kept in his room, and he made a noise in his throat, like that of surrender.
He pressed against Perceptor, tongue nudging at the seam of Perceptor’s lips. His arm curled around Perceptor, tugging him nearer, and it was easy enough then to wrap his arms around Drift, and deepen the kiss. To pull the heat of the smol against him, and taste the berries on Drift’s lips.
Something in his core settled then. Something that had been building to an ache for the past few weeks until it was impossible to ignore.
He wanted this. Wanted Drift. There was no mistake about it.
Reluctantly, Perceptor broke his lips from Drift’s, pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, Drift’s exhales puffing against his kiss-slick lips.
“Adaptus,” Drift murmured again, shakily. “I was so sure I was wrong. That I was making a terrible mistake. I thought I’d be lucky just to have your friendship, and it was egotistic of me to think you’d want more.”
Perceptor cradled Drift’s face, holding it as something precious. “Then you were quite wrong indeed. Because I want you very much. If you’ll have me.”
A hungry noise warbled in Drift’s throat. “Kiss me again.” His tongue swept over his lips. “Just to be sure.”
Warm humor bubbled up in Perceptor’s core.
He sealed his lips over Drift’s again as Drift melted against him. Their bodies molded together, feathers rustling. Drift clutched him close, talons shaking, as though he feared Perceptor would vanish in a puff of smoke.
All of the confusion vanished. It felt right, in a way no scientific measurement could quantify or qualify.
Drift was what Perceptor had been searching for in another.
He was sure of it.
***
Characters: Drift, Perceptor, Original Character(s)
Universe: Flights of Fancy, Harpyformers
Rating: M
Enticements: Sexual Content, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Love at First Sight
Description: Perceptor’s spent so long among the humans, he’s almost forgotten how much he misses other harpies, until Drift wanders into Kaon, a pretty package of everything Perceptor never knew he wanted.
Time spent with Drift quickly became the highlight of Perceptor’s days.
While Drift recovered, Perceptor taught him English, impressed by how quick of a study he was. Within a month’s time, he was able to carry on a conversation with Jessica on his own, though some of the more complicated concepts required explanation here and there.
He was able to interact with the other humans as well. He could go to the greenhouse on his own, and purchase every plant he wanted. Especially with Artemis’ assistance. The two of them became fast friends.
Drift was an absolute delight. While most harpies would have been hesitant to learn more about humans, once Drift realized Kaon was safe, he threw himself into their culture. He was eager to sample their foods, their entertainment.
He loved movies with a voracity Perceptor found endearing. He’d sit in front of the television with attached VCR player – easier for harpy fingers to finagle – and push in movie after movie, while he consumed popcorn like it was its own food group. He was particularly fond of the foreign action films with their choreographed fight scenes, their terribly dubbed voice acting, and absurd premises.
A month passed. Two.
Spring turned to Summer, hot and humid. The campus emptied as students went home for the semester, and only a small number remained behind. It was quieter, less busy, but no less engaging. It also granted them more freedom, as there were less students to stare, and less students to bother.
Not everyone was as comfortable with a harpy on the premises as Jessica and Artemis.
Perceptor had grown used to his solitude while he conducted his research. But Drift was a welcome interruption. He was fascinated by everything. He asked questions. Or he sat silently if Perceptor asked him to do so, often times curled up with a book – children’s readers at first, and then more advanced novels as his English vocabulary broadened. His hands were as nimble as Perceptor’s own, so when Perceptor needed an extra pair of them, Drift leapt into action.
Drift’s room became a mini-greenhouse with all of the plants he collected. They hung in the windows and draped over the shelves and grew across the walls – in the case of the devil’s ivy. He seemed to have a green thumb, encouraging his flora to grow with very little effort. It delighted him, this small ability, and his eyes were bright and his smile broad as he introduced Perceptor to each new acquisition.
Some of them even had names. Drift squirmed and rubbed the back of his head as he pointed to his very first purchase, the cactus Perceptor had given him as a gift, and said he’d named it ‘Percy’.
Summer grew hotter and heavier. Perceptor introduced Drift to the pool, and while the scent of chlorine and bleach was nauseating, the cool water was a blessing. Drift took to water like a duck. He splashed in the pool like a youngling, and Perceptor resolved to one day take him to Glass Lake, below Glass Falls.
Late evenings found Drift practicing with his sword. He ran through a series of exercises, body moving in elegant shapes and twirls, the sword an extension of his arm.
There was a courtyard in the local quad, and Drift found it the perfect space for his exercises. Perceptor watched as often as he could, enraptured by the motions, and the focus on Drift’s face. Often, they drew a crowd of human admirers, and Drift always flushed when they bombarded him with questions. Jessica filmed him more than a few times.
“For research,” she said with a wink.
Perceptor might have asked her for copies of the videos.
Jessica and Drift spent many hours, heads bent together, Jessica diligently scribbling down notes while Drift talked of Tesaurus. Perceptor sat nearby, listening without comment. He’d never been to Tesaurus, but he’d heard it had a very warrior-like culture, and to go by Drift’s tales, the rumors were correct. Hierarchies were constructed around one’s skill with a sword.
When asked why he left, Drift changed the subject.
Even in private, he would only say, “It wasn’t home,” a shadow passing through his eyes. Perceptor didn’t push.
Drift would share when he was ready. Or never. It was entirely up to him. His past was his own business. Sometimes, wounds weren’t ready to be lanced.
Perceptor let it be.
Time passed slowly, but not the drag of day by day drudgery. Rather, it was the savoring of moments, where loneliness evaporated in the heat of the summer sun and Drift by his side. Perceptor had gotten accustomed to being alone. He’d thought Drift’s constant presence in his life – shared meal times, walks, personal interests – would grate soon enough.
That it never did was a sign. For weeks, Perceptor wasn’t sure what that sign was.
It wasn’t until Drift smiled at him, before he tasted crème brulee for the first time, and Perceptor’s core throbbed that he realized he might be in trouble. Drift’s soft moan of utter delight had shot heat elsewhere, and Perceptor found himself interested in another for the first time in his life.
He’d had partners before, of course, but was more a matter of happenstance rather than desire or need. It was a thing one did. It was a biological urge. His partners had been diligent and adequate, and he’d walked away satisfied, at least physically. He’d never considered himself discontented in any other way because no other criteria had been important to him.
Therefore the desire to taste Drift, to see if he were as sweet as the dessert, baffled him. For the first time, Perceptor wanted, and it threw him for a loop. He didn’t know what to do with such a desire.
He begged off breakfast the next day, citing the need for utter silence for a complicated equation, because he needed the time and solitude to examine his feelings. To examine his wants, such odd and unusual sensations he’d never had stirring in his belly. He paced the circumference of the room, hands clasped behind his back, muttering to himself.
There was of course one rather large question: did he truly desire Drift, or was it merely because Drift was the first harpy Perceptor had interacted with for a decade? That one was easy enough to answer. If Drift had been an unkind, uncouth person who wrinkled Perceptor’s nose, and he still desired Drift, then it was only biology. But Drift was kind and funny, charming and gentle. Liking him was the easy part.
Desiring him was the mystery. Drift was visually appealing. He had a striking appearance, and his somewhat lopsided smile was absolutely charming. Perceptor had been around many smols in Tyger Pax, smols of average intelligence and genius intelligence, who were both gorgeous and plain, and none of them had made his core throb the way Drift did.
He could therefore only conclude that he did, in fact, like Drift. Not just because his body had a need and wanted Drift to satisfy it, but because his core had a desire, and felt Drift matched what Perceptor sought in a mate. How unexpected.
What were the chances, Perceptor pondered. How lucky that Drift should find his way to Kaon and be the only harpy Perceptor had ever met who he genuinely desired. How fortuitous.
How… terrifying.
Whatever was he to do next?
Perceptor spun at the end of his route and started pacing again.
He suspected the courtship rituals in Tesaurus vastly differed from what was called courtship in Tyger Pax. In many ways, Tyger Pax was a lot simpler. If you were interested in another harpy, you simply stated so, and they either declined or accepted the other, scheduling it for a moment convenient to both parties. Sometimes, more than one party if invited.
Drift, however, was shy. Skittish even. A frank request might ruin the friendship they’d built. Above all else, Perceptor didn’t want to lose Drift as a friend. He did not know how casual rutting could be among the Tesaurans.
Did he dare risk that friendship for a chance at something more? Or should he be content with what they had already?
A quandary indeed.
Perhaps a few days of observation would tell. A chance to truly examine whether or not this was what he desired. Perhaps it was only a moment of whimsy, nothing more. He didn’t want to risk friendship over a flight of fancy. Better then to be cautious. Patient.
Fortunately, Perceptor had both in spades.
He only wished he had someone in whom to confide. A confidant, so to speak. Jessica was trustworthy, but she could sometimes let her zest for her research override her common sense. He wanted advice, not for his attraction to be put under a microscope.
His door chimed.
Perceptor stopped mid-stride, cocking his head with curiosity. Whoever could that be? It wasn’t as though he received many direct visitors. Most students were fine with seeing him out and about on campus, but they weren’t keen on being isolated near him.
He answered the door.
Drift stood on the other side, his hands tucked behind his back, a look of hesitation on his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting your calculations,” he said with a worried smile.
Perceptor’s core throbbed again. “Not at all.” He stepped aside. “Come on in. I was actually about to see if you wanted to join me for lunch.”
“Definitely!” Drift perked up, his crest feathers twitching. “But um, first. I wanted to give you something.”
Perceptor shut the door. “Oh?” He turned to face Drift, who’d paused in the middle of the room, hands still behind his back.
“It’s not much.” Drift’s face took on a rosy hue. One foot talon scraped at the carpet. “I was going to give it to you this morning, but you were busy. I didn’t want to wait anymore though. So...” He trailed off. “Anyway. Here you go.”
He brought his hands forward and shoved a brightly, if not haphazardly, wrapped package toward Perceptor. It was tied off with a neat ribbon, and Perceptor had to wonder if Drift had engaged a human’s assistance. The curlicues in the ribbon were difficult to pull off with talons.
“How kind,” Perceptor took care, but his talons still poked through the delicate wrapping. “But you did not have to get me anything.”
Drift ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I know, but I wanted to say thank you and well, I just wanted to.” His feather tufts ruffled.
Perceptor carefully plucked at the delicate, bright paper. “Then I will accept it for the kindness it is. Thank you, Drift.”
“It’s not much.” Drift’s fingers tangled together, shoulders hunched, like he was waiting to be chastised, and it broke Perceptor’s core.
Who had worked so hard to crush the gentleness within him?
“It is a gift from the core,” Perceptor murmured. “It will be much no matter what it is.”
No sooner had he spoken then the paper fell away, revealing an intriguing snarl of wire, gemstone, and colored glass. Perceptor grasped a visible, thick knot and pulled it up, his eyes widening in surprise. Wire draped down in a tangle, occasionally woven with well-placed gemstones. It sparkled in the light.
Not much?
Drift was sorely mistaken.
“Drift, this is beautiful.” He let it dangle from his fingers, and as it spun, rainbows danced on the walls. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you get this?”
Drift’s feather tufts twitched. “I made it.”
“You...” Perceptor was at a loss for words. Drift acted as though it was a terrible thing for him to have offered something handmade. As if it was mere garbage. “It’s amazing.”
“It’s just some scrap I put together. It’s nothing special.” Drift fidgeted and gnawed on his bottom lip. “I wanted to get you a new scope instead but--”
“But nothing.” Perceptor carefully placed the windchime on his desk and took Drift’s hands with his own, pulling him closer. “There is no gift treasured greater than that which comes from the core. Thank you.”
Drift’s eyes widened. His hands shook where Perceptor held them. Had he truly feared Perceptor would hate the gift?
“You really like it?” There was a note in his voice, disbelief and uncertainty mingled together, and Perceptor’s core gave another twang.
He wanted to sweep Drift into his arms and never let go. He wanted to kiss the smol senseless, whisper the most encouraging, true words into Drift’s ear. He wanted Drift to understand just how special he was.
And then he wanted to hunt down the harpy responsible for making him think otherwise.
“I do. I wonder how I became so lucky as to receive such a gift,” Perceptor said gently. He was bothered by how little Drift seemed to value his own efforts. Why did he consider himself so unworthy?
Drift sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before he released it. “I just wanted to give you something nice. Because…” He trailed off and abruptly found the floor fascinating.
Perceptor waited for Drift to finish, but silence seemed to have grabbed hold of him. He wouldn’t meet Perceptor’s eyes, but he also didn’t let go of Perceptor’s hands. If anything, he seemed to shift closer. A visible tremor ran through his body.
Perhaps..
Perhaps Drift had been not unlike Perceptor, grappling with unexpected emotion and wondering how to approach it. Was the gift a gesture? A single drop of courage to gauge how Perceptor felt about Drift in return?
There was only one thing to do.
Return Drift’s courage with a single drop of his own.
Perceptor freed one hand, but only so he could cup Drift’s cheek, encouraging Drift to look up at him. He shifted closer, until their faces were inches apart, and Drift’s beautiful blue eyes were focused on him.
“Because--” Perceptor swallowed over a lump of fright in his throat, “--because you wanted to show me that you care, yes?”
Drift’s hand twitched. His face warmed under Perceptor’s fingers. “If I said yes, would that ruin things for us?”
“Not at all.” Perceptor stroked over Drift’s cheek. “I care greatly for you as well.”
Drift’s lips parted on a surprised exhale. “What?”
“You are my friend, and I cherish you for that alone. But lately I’ve found myself wanting more. Desiring you as a lover does,” Perceptor explained. Another tremble ran through Drift before his free hand clasped onto Perceptor’s hip, talons shaking. “And if you’d allow me, I’d love to kiss you. May I?”
“Adaptus,” Drift breathed, his lips parting. His tongue flicked over them, making his mouth shiny-wet with invitation. “Yes, Perceptor. Yes, please do.”
Perceptor pressed his mouth over Drift’s, cutting off the breathy string of agreement, swallowing Drift’s startled inhale. Drift tasted sweet, like he’d been munching on the berries he kept in his room, and he made a noise in his throat, like that of surrender.
He pressed against Perceptor, tongue nudging at the seam of Perceptor’s lips. His arm curled around Perceptor, tugging him nearer, and it was easy enough then to wrap his arms around Drift, and deepen the kiss. To pull the heat of the smol against him, and taste the berries on Drift’s lips.
Something in his core settled then. Something that had been building to an ache for the past few weeks until it was impossible to ignore.
He wanted this. Wanted Drift. There was no mistake about it.
Reluctantly, Perceptor broke his lips from Drift’s, pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, Drift’s exhales puffing against his kiss-slick lips.
“Adaptus,” Drift murmured again, shakily. “I was so sure I was wrong. That I was making a terrible mistake. I thought I’d be lucky just to have your friendship, and it was egotistic of me to think you’d want more.”
Perceptor cradled Drift’s face, holding it as something precious. “Then you were quite wrong indeed. Because I want you very much. If you’ll have me.”
A hungry noise warbled in Drift’s throat. “Kiss me again.” His tongue swept over his lips. “Just to be sure.”
Warm humor bubbled up in Perceptor’s core.
He sealed his lips over Drift’s again as Drift melted against him. Their bodies molded together, feathers rustling. Drift clutched him close, talons shaking, as though he feared Perceptor would vanish in a puff of smoke.
All of the confusion vanished. It felt right, in a way no scientific measurement could quantify or qualify.
Drift was what Perceptor had been searching for in another.
He was sure of it.
