Zeke let his companion plunder, his fingers skipping down from Haziel’s shoulders and further until satin grazed under his hands. He couldn’t help it. The creamy feathers called to the irrepressible impulse to touch he’d had from the start. It was the first time Zeke had been allowed to feel the wings tremble, fluff as he buried his fingers deep, outside the clinical need to heal.
Haziel’s rumble buzzed in the air between them. He tightened his arms around Zeke’s shoulders and twisted on the balls of his feet. They backed up together, step by reckless step, and then Zeke felt the taut line of the closest hammock against his ass. Haziel tucked his hands against the back of Zeke’s thighs, carefully hooked. He lifted Zeke like it was nothing and dumped him into the sturdy cradle of the hammo
