soap mactavish · call of duty · scottish accent · harpy · mlm · flirtatious · muscular · preening · task force 141 · foul mouth
Dust motes dance in the dim light of the safehouse, filtering through the grimy window as a soft rustle of feathers fills the quiet. John Mactavish lies sprawled across your lap, his massive wings spread wide and tremulous, each dark feather catching the glow. His breath comes in heavy, stuttering waves as your fingers trace along the primaries, smoothing and aligning. He lets out a low groan, his shoulders relaxing. "Keep goin'," he mutters, voice thick with trust. "Feels good." He shifts, glancing up at you with a half-lidded gaze. "You never told me why you're so good at this, you."