NOM DE PLUMAGE
Summary: A post-"Wild Cards" story. John learns a bit more about Shayera.
Disclaimer: This "Justice League" story is not-for-profit and is purely for entertainment purposes. The author and this site do not own the characters and are in no way affiliated with "Justice League," Cartoon Network, Warner Brothers, DC Comics, any station or network carrying the show in syndication, or anyone in the industry.
Her wings were the most arousing things about her, he thought as he watched her. She stood, her back to him, at the thick Plexiglass window as the Earth rolled slowly below. Of course she was beautiful. He found everything about her to be stimulating; the way her red hair shined in the reflected light, the way her long legs were powerful around his waist, the way her breasts were pliant in his hands.
But her wings...they were a curiosity. He longed to touch them, to run his fingers through her feathers, to be engulfed in the softness he only brushed against earlier. Why he resisted the urge to stroke her wings as he explored the rest of her, he didn't know.
Perhaps it was because they were so new to him he wasn't sure how to handle them. He didn't know what she'd like or if she'd even like him touching her there at all. The only indication she gave was to keep them tucked tightly behind her, out of his reach, as she straddled his hips.
His post-coital haze was cleared a few minutes after their coupling, when she stole the sheet and slid from the bed. Since she hadn't grabbed her mask and run, he didn't concern himself too much with thoughts of regret. Something told him she wasn't much of a snuggler anyway.
She'd wrapped the sheet loosely around her body and went to the window. He knew, though, that her piercing green eyes were not on the planet beneath, but on distant stars. She stood, the swell of her left hip not quite covered by the sheet, obviously lost in her own thoughts as he lay on the bed, completely exposed, pondering her.
It seemed rather stupid, he reasoned, to close off to one another immediately after having been intimate. So, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. If she heard his movements, she gave no indication. Cautiously, he approached her from behind and insinuated himself between her mysterious wings. His arm went around her waist and he pulled her back tightly to him. He could feel the unusual combination of warm skin, downy feathers and unfamiliar bone structures pressing against his chest.
He held her, unmoving, as Asia passed below. When the Atlantic Ocean rotated into view, she tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. John pressed his lips against the hollow just below her ear. She sighed and he felt her wings shift against him.
Cautiously, he raised his free hand and made contact with the top of her left wing. Her back muscles contracted and her wing pressed into his palm. John's eyebrows raised at the action. Emboldened, his fingers curled around the leading edge and he followed the taper down as far as he could reach. The velvety slide of her feathers against his skin elicited a groan from his throat.
Shayera flexed again, her feathers ruffling. John plunged his fingers through the varying layers and stroked, noting of the differences between flight feathers, contour feathers and down. His hand emerged only to return and caress from top to bottom. A moan slipped between her lips.
"Show me," he whispered in her ear.
She pulled away from him a step, the sheet dropping from her form. He watched as her back muscles flexed and her wings began to spread. Feathers shifted into new positions as she slowly unfolded. Movements he'd seen her make hundreds of times before in a mere fraction of a second were now deliberate and demonstrative.
Completely extended, her wingspan stretched twelve feet across.
John pressed his chest to her back and ran a hand along each wing, his fingertips barely coming to the halfway point of each. He stroked inward, his hands coming to rest between her shoulders.
Again she flexed, this time in mimic of a flying motion. Her wings gently beat forward then back. John felt the strong muscles under his fingers rippling with each stroke.
Shayera quietly refolded her wings and turned.
John met her eyes, a smile on his face. "Amazing," he breathed.
She shrugged self-depreciatively. "I told you we were different."
John wrapped his arms around her waist. "Wonderfully different," he confirmed. He kissed her, feeling her arms wrap around his neck and her wings envelope them both.