Wings Of Desire

I watched him for a long time before the perfect chance presented itself. The moment came while I was dozing, concealed among the high branches of a tall pine tree, my face tucked snug beneath a wing as I tried to ignore the aching of my talons and the rumble of hunger in my stomach.

Human shouting woke me. Unlike some of my sisters, I cannot understand even the most basic words of their language, so what they were saying was a mystery to me. But I understood the tone – it was high and angry.

He was arguing with the female he shared his home with. I had no idea why. Human relationships are bafflingly complex. She stood at the entrance of their habitation shouting at him as he stalked away from her through the area of broken ground where they grow and tend the plants that humans like to eat. Halfway he turned and shouted something back at her.

I had heard similar things over the past few days as I had waited and watched. Usually they fought inside their habitation. Another human male had been involved. At least, I had seen one earlier. He had visited the female while the male I had chosen had been absent. That visit seemed to be the cause for their argument now.

The female shouted one last time and then went back inside, slamming closed the slab of wood that protected their habitation. The male took a hesitant step back towards his home then turned and walked away, his eyes downcast. I unfurled my wings and eased my talons and waited until he was close to the edge of the woods. Then I swooped. He didn't see me since I had the sun at my back. I was on him even as he noticed my shadow. I grasped his shoulders in my talons and dragged him up into the air.

He cried out in terror, but louder still were the cries of the female. She had seen me swoop and had burst out of their habitation, that sharp length of metal that humans favour as a replacement for claws clutched in those feeble things called 'hands'. I laughed, soaring far out the reach of her wild swipes, my wings beating the air with a new-found vigour born of my success. Yes! If she'd wished to keep hold of her male she should have watched him more closely, and now he was mine!

I left the valley far behind and climbed into where the air was thinner and cooler. The human's struggling at last stopped. The air was thinner here, and humans cope badly with it. I glanced down, worried by his lack of movement, but he was still alive. I had heard from my sisters that the inexperienced sometimes forget how fragile humans are and inadvertently kill them with their first swoop, not realising until they've brought the body home that their hunting has been in vain.

I loosened the grip of my talons just in case, but only a little. Humans have also often fallen to their deaths from the talons of a sloppy huntress.

I was careful. I had spent too long on the hunt, expended too much of my precious energy to have wasted it all. This time I had refused to give up the hunt until I had succeeded - I would not suffer the agony of 'must' again! Those hideous nights of fever and itchiness, the swollen, sickening need of my body, the pity of my sisters far worse than the whispered jokes at my expense. I was not young anymore and a lack of success could no longer be put down to inexperience. For that I had endured burning hot shame far worse than unfulfilled lust.

But at last my efforts had paid off. I had watched, waited patiently, learned the movement of my chosen prey. I had been ready even to risk a fight with the female to take him, and so the luck of the opportunity given to me was all the more welcome.

He was small, it had to be admitted, and very young, although how young I was not sure. The female was older, that I knew. I had seen her boss him around as only human females can.

The air above grew chill. I felt the updrafts of warmer air from beneath and felt before I saw that I had come to the edge of the mountains. I knew my eyrie was not far away. My eyes scanned the sky, the grey and white of the mountains' rock and snow. Sometimes a sister would try and take your prey from you. It was frowned upon, but in the agony of must many things that are frowned upon are known to happen.

I had worried in vain. I encountered no-one. My eyrie beckoned with its little ledge of rock and deep, inviting cave. It was an excellent eyrie and one I had had to defend on many an occasion. The morning sun warmed it delightfully and it faced away from the worst of the nightly winds that scour the mountains.

I dipped the leading edge of my wings, taking into account the heavier load I was carrying, heavier than any rabbit or small game I had carried there before. I was careful not to let go of my prey until I was well inside the cave. He fell a short distance into my nest, the soft fresh hay and foliage mixed with the lining of my down-feathers cushioning his fall. I landed beside him, perching on the edge of my nest. I leaned close to see how he had fared.

He was indeed a small specimen for his kind, and yet there had been something about his manner that had led me to choose him. I suppose humans might call such a thing 'cuteness', at least that is what I have heard my sisters who know something of the human language call such attractive vulnerability. He was being very 'cute' now, the way he cowered from me as he scrambled backwards against the far end of the nest.

I hopped into the nest and he scrambled backwards out of it. I pursued him, grinning. It was a fun game. There was nowhere he could run to. He came up against the wall of the cave and froze. He knew he was trapped.

I stepped over to him, awkward on my talons, but thinking perhaps that my hopping was alarming him. I did not want him to panic and fling himself from the ledge. It had happened to others of my sisters before. I made low sounds in my throat, the sounds you use to calm chicks, and spread out my wings so that I could block him should he choose to dart around me. Humans can move fast when they wish to.

He lay back, eyes wide, too scared to try and escape. Or perhaps he was injured? I leaned close and he shivered. I examined his shoulders: his hide - or rather the hides of other animals that humans wear to protect them from the elements - was torn, ripped by my talons. The flesh was broken and there was blood.

I brought my face to one shoulder and began to lick at it. A shudder spread through his body and I was afraid that he had been injured to the point of shock. But the wounds were light, barely skin-deep, although they bled freely.

Then I realised he thought I was going to eat him, that licking his blood was me tasting him, a prelude to devouring. I cooed to him with what I hoped were mollifying sounds and then turned my attention to his other shoulder. I licked the bloody wounds there clean as well.

I wondered what stories he had heard about my kind. I knew that humans call us 'harpies' and that they tell tales of us devouring their kind, but I had thought it unlikely that they could believe such ludicrous things. Our mouths, after all, though full of teeth sharp compared to theirs, are unsuited for prey bigger than a large rodent. We feed only on small animals: to kill anything larger requires far too much precious energy. And yet the way this human shivered I knew that he must have heard and believed such stories.

I licked my lips. His blood was indeed tasty but I had no intention of devouring him. I wondered how I could communicate to him that I was healing him, that a harpy's saliva is filled with qualities that slow blood-flow, resist infection and cleanse impurities? I thought it better just to step back and give him room. Perhaps if I made no quick movements he would stop shivering.

It took a long while for him to regain his courage. His eyes glued to where I sat in my nest and with his back to the wall, he sidled outside onto the ledge. I tensed my legs, ready to fly should he leap off the ledge or commit some similar foolishness. But after staring down and then out across the landscape I knew he understood there was no escape for him.

The wind buffeted his hair and he pushed it out of his eyes. They were pretty eyes, even prettier with fear in them. He came back inside and I watched him explore my cave. He was likely looking for some other way of escape. After a while he even began to periodically take his eyes off me for periods longer than a heartbeat. Perhaps he had already grown used to me.

I decided I could risk leaving him there for a short moment. If he desired to throw his life away he would already have done so. I clambered from my nest and onto the ledge before plummeting out into the delicious freedom of the air. I caught an updraft and went soaring over the mountain meadows that lie high above my little eyrie. It wasn't long until I had caught a rabbit, one of the white-furred ones that live among the everlasting snow. I clutched the rabbit safe in a talon as I flew the short distance to the little pool with its waterfall where I like to bathe. Rainbows scattered as I dipped my head into the fresh, clean water and took a long drink. I filled my mouth and then flew back down to the cave. The human had come part way out onto the ledge, perhaps still harbouring some hope of finding a way of escape he had missed earlier. I startled him and he ran back inside. I dropped the warm rabbit and stalked in after him. He was cowering again and this time it worked to my advantage. I crowded him against the wall, pinning his arms with the wrists of my wings, and brought my mouth against his.

He gasped. I locked my lips around his so that the water wouldn't escape as I poured it into his mouth. He choked a little but drank a deal of it. I left him wiping his mouth and staring at me as I tore the rabbit into strips of flesh. I lifted some in my mouth and offered them to him, but he shook his head in a human gesture I recognised: no.

I remembered then that humans do not favour the raw flesh of creatures but prefer it dried or burnt. I worried that he was hungry, but when he refused again I put back my head and swallowed down the delicious sweetness of freshly killed rabbit so it would not go to waste.

The slick meat slid down my throat. As I licked at the blood on my lips and lifted a talon to lick the blood there too, I felt a stirring inside me. I had felt it earlier, I realised: a melting in my joints. I had thought it over-exertion from my hunt. But now, as the heat spread down my spine and my loins tightened and grew liquid, I recognised it for what it was: the first stirrings of must.

-----

The human was lying down against the far wall of the cave. It was warmer there. The sun was not long for the sky. I called to him, trying to remember the sounds humans greet each other with. My vocalisations must have sounded similar enough for he looked at me in surprise. I shuffled to one edge of the nest and lifted a wing, displaying the empty space. He stared at it, then at me again. He shook his head. No.

I gestured again. Again, a shake of the head: no. I sighed. The temperature would drop soon and humans with their featherless skin have little endurance against the cold.

I sat there and waited.

The cave grew dim. The air grew cold. The human shivered. He pulled his hides closer around himself. It would do him no good.

Soon he began to shiver uncontrollably. Still he did not move. I lost patience and hopped over to him. He could only stare up at me and shiver as I scooped him up in my wings and carried him to the nest. I placed him in it and lay down beside him. He tried to shy away from me, but lacked the energy to do so. And so he ceased struggling and allowed me to cover him with my wing. His body was soft and small beneath it and I felt a strange twinge of pleasure. He was like a little chick, his naked down needing to be warmed by his mother. I shook my head at such foolish thoughts. I had been watching the humans for too long and had grown sentimental.

Soon he stopped shivering. The rhythm of his breathing changed and I thought he might be sick, so I leaned down to check on him.

His eyes were shut, his lips pursed. He was just sleeping.

I fluffed up my feathers and drew him closer to me in the centre of the nest. His body warm against mine, sleep soon stole over me as well.

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I woke to find the human still nestled against my chest, his face against my breasts. He was fast asleep. I smiled to think that he had become used to me so quickly, but I knew that it was just exhaustion that gripped him.

I removed myself from his embrace so that he would not wake and left him in the nest as I flew up to the little waterfall and pool to wash myself. It was my usual ritual: plunging my face straight into the icy pool and then dunking my back and wings underneath the falling water. The iciness invigorated me and I ruffled my wings, letting the water cleanse my feathers of the previous day's sweat. I plunged into the deeper part of the pool and surfaced, the water sluicing over my breasts and between them. My nipples were hard, and not just with the cold, and I felt my heart quicken and the blood rush through my limbs.

I ran my wrists through my hair, loosening the knots and then preened first one wing and then the other. The sun was just now clearing the foothills in the east bringing its delicious warmth. I swept my wings, dislodging the worst of the water that loaded them down, and then flew over to the little flat ledge of rock away from the spray of the waterfall. The rock was already sun-warm and so I lay down flat on my belly to dry. The warm smoothness of the rock beneath me did little to calm my racing heart.

There was no mistaking this feeling. It was the full onset of must. I nuzzled against the rock, delighting in the warmth, tension building inside me. I tried to ease myself by pressing my hips down against the smooth warm stone, but this only made me more excited. I had hoped that I would have some time to acclimatise the human to my presence before the must came upon me. It would be easier to mate with one not fighting back. But now I had no choice. My body cried out for release and would not be ignored.

I was not yet dry, but there could be no more delay. I unfurled my wings and glided down to the ledge of my eyrie below.

I hopped over to the nest and the human woke at last. At first he blinked at me with the bleariness of the half-asleep, but then his eyes went wide and I knew that the memory of the previous day had come flooding back.

He backed up against the far edge of my nest, his eyes glued to mine. The must was full upon me and my pupils were wide and dark, my feathers bristling in excitement. With the wild wetness of my hair and the heaving of my chest, I no doubt frightened him.

And then I was upon him. I half-leaped half-flew, wings splayed wide, and pushed him up against the wall of the nest. He struggled, but being covered by the embrace of my wings there was little he could do as I dove forward and brought my lips against his. He cried out, a costly mistake - my tongue parted his lips and delved deep into his mouth. I was salivating strongly, an effect of the must, and my saliva filled his mouth to overflowing. He drank much of it so as not to choke. I broke away and he doubled over, coughing. His face and the skin of his neck and throat were already pinkening and he began to pant. My saliva was already working upon him.

The saliva of a harpy is not only suited to the cleansing and healing of wounds but during must it becomes for humans a potent aphrodisiac. As I peeled off the hides which covered him I saw that the rest of him, too, was reacting to it. His member was standing proudly out from his body, clear even beneath his hides. Hungry, I pulled at the covering that human males wear on their lower half and which is by far the easiest part to remove, requiring merely a forceful tug from where it encircles their waist. The human wrestled with me and I laughed. The battle was so one-sided, and so ludicrous! I hooked my writs around his waist and tore his hides off. The smaller inner-layer that humans wear to protect their genitals came off with them.

With the hides wrapped around my wrists the human took the chance to scramble away, but he was hampered by his hands covering his nakedness. The sight again brought that word 'cute' to mind. His shame and his flustered state inflamed me. I tossed the hides aside and swooped upon him. I held his arms down against the floor of the nest with my wrists and knelt over him, positioning my hips so that I could guide his delicious hardness right into me. I was already slick with need, the smell of my excitement strong. It proved a challenge with him struggling so courageously, but I quickly bored of the wrestling and again glued my mouth to his and fed him a further dose of my saliva.

Overwhelmed by desire, his struggling ceased and I eased myself down upon him, crying out in delight as his member pierced right up into my belly.

Our first mating was frenzied, quick and exquisitely pleasurable. I thrust my hips down against his while my tongue dipped in and out of his mouth. I was learning his taste, the saltiness of one recently awakened, and it was delicious. Over and over I speared his hardness up into me as he lay there in a daze while I took my pleasure from him. But I knew that the experience was not an unpleasant one for him as he panted and gasped hot against my mouth with every thrust.

With one final deep thrust he cried out and I felt his seed spilling into me. The next moment I reached my own peak of pleasure and shuddered, melting inside. I ceased from lifting my hips and instead ground my pelvis against his, eager to drain every last boiling spurt of his delicious juices. He had produced a lot, another effect of my saliva, and our bellies grew sticky with it as it flowed out of me.

Exhausted and still shivering with pleasure, I slumped on top of him, my breasts flat against his heaving chest. He lay gasping beneath me. But when his eyes met mine he averted his gaze, his face flushing.

Was the aphrodisiac still active within him? It was not possible. No, this was the human reaction called blushing. My sisters had told me it signifies shame. What then was he so ashamed of? He had acquitted his part of our mating most satisfactorily. I felt the heat of his semen deep inside me, pooling there, and I murmured happily. The tension of must was receding from me, swept from me by the intense pleasure we had shared.

I rolled over to lay beside him, sweeping a wing over him. I had no desire for him to grow cold and I did not want him to put his hides back on. I enjoyed the warm smoothness of his nakedness pressed against my body and cooed to him as he fell asleep. The aphrodisiac was indeed spent and with it came physical exhaustion. His sleep was heavy.

I did not want to sleep. The mating had filled me with energy. I wished to go hunting and yet I was still concerned for the human's wellbeing.

I decided, then, to lift him up in my wings. His sleep was total and he did not stir as I carried him out onto the ledge. There, once I had laid him down, I grasped him with the utmost gentleness in my talons. A few deep sweeps of my wings and I lifted him into the air. It felt good to have the air about me, to feel my blood rushing through me. The heaviness in my belly was all the more delicious for it.

I lifted him straight up to the little meadow higher up the mountain not far from the waterfall. I lay him down on the softness of the grass there and covered him with fronds plucked from the ferns which grow on the banks of an icy rivulet. Along with the sun's light they would keep him warm.

I busied myself hunting. I was ravenous and every small animal I found I devoured still hot and squirming. Sated, I remembered the human. He had not eaten yet. I knew that he would forgo any flesh I might offer him, but I recalled something I had heard from my sisters: humans would often eat fish raw. Perhaps he would prefer that.