Feather let herself groan as the hot water washed across her aching limbs.  It was very kind of Kos to allow her to use his small bathroom to clean herself up after three riots, a Simic experiment gone wrong, and an angry shopkeeper had left her with numerous injuries, her own living quarters being temporarily inconvenienced by said Simic experiment.  She wrinkled her nose at some unspecified growth on the side of the tub.  She really would have to speak with Kos about the state he let his living arrangements fall into, but it would be more polite to wait for a time when she was not dependent on his generosity to avoid sleeping in a slime-covered bed.

	She winced as she probed a particularly deep cut on her upper thigh.  Fortunately, it had missed any major blood vessels, but it was stinging nonetheless—she didn’t feel that any of her injuries were quite serious enough to warrant a ’drop, but they were certainly unpleasant.  Her wings were missing a number of feathers, and she had bruises in more places than she could count, not to mention the slime that had managed to get into everything.

	She could hear Kos crashing about in the other room.  His injuries, too, had been more painful than debilitating, partly to his pride.  Feather suppressed a smile at the memory of the very upset shopkeeper, who had chased Kos around his shop with a broom, followed by a frying pan.  

	She shivered as she finished cleaning out her injuries and washing the slime out of her hair.  The missing feathers of her wings were particularly painful, though partly because they drew her attention to the wings themselves, which ached nigh-constantly ever since they had been bound.

	“Are you finished yet?” Kos called through the door.  He sounded as if he were still somewhat grumpy over the shopkeeper incident, for which Feather did not entirely blame him.  It seemed they could both do with something to take their minds off their current state, so she called back, “I will be ready in a moment!”, switched off the water, and got out.  Glancing around the room, she found one ragged towel tucked away in a corner.  A quick inspection showed her that it had three large holes in it.  Well, that would not be missed, and if he complained too much, she could offer him a new towel as thanks for allowing her to stay the night.  Feather opened the tiny window and dropped the towel out, then opened the door.

	“Feather—”  Kos cut off whatever he had been about to say.

	“You did not give me a towel,” she said, walking into the room.  “Do you have one I could borrow?”

	Kos glanced quickly into the bathroom and frowned, then turned back to her and raised an eyebrow.  “I think most of them are dirty, but I can look if you want.”

	“I will just sit here and air-dry then,” Feather said, walking deliberately across the small room and perching herself on the edge of Kos’s bed.

	He chuckled and followed her.  “You sure I didn’t give you a towel?”

	She looked back innocently.  “Have you never heard that angels do not lie?”

	He made a skeptical noise and sat down beside her, reaching out one hand to run gently down across her wings.  She shivered at the touch and closed her eyes.  Kos leaned in closer and kissed her gently on the neck, as she’d rather thought he might.  He enjoyed having his lips on her breasts or her mouth, but for some reason always started with her neck.  Feather sighed breathily, then tipped his chin up and kissed him on the lips.

	He tasted of ash and sweat, his tongue clashing with hers as his hands continued to comb gently through her fettered wings.  Feather shifted so that she had easy access to his shirt, unlaced it and reluctantly pulled back from him for a moment so that she could get it off.  He gave a soft moan of protest as she broke the contact, then moved back, one of his hands reaching for her breast.

	“You are making this difficult,” Feather said disapprovingly as she strained to reach his trousers.

	Kos grinned at her, an unusual sight.  “I guess I’m used to being married first,” he smirked.

	“Really?  I was under the impression this was how you convinced your ex-wives to marry you in the first place.”

	“No, no, this is why they all ran off.”  His hands were trembling slightly, the one on her breast sliding down her stomach and between her legs, the other still caressing her wings, an exquisitely foreign sensation.  She trembled and moaned, bucking up against his hand, then moving forward until her breasts lay against his chest.  One of his fingers slipped inside of her, and she cried out in surprise, her wings straining against their bonds, against his hand.  Kos’s face blurred strangely in her vision, but she could see that the grin had changed into a fond smile—she was almost sure he thought she was too preoccupied to see that.

	After a few more moments of losing herself in the sensations, she pulled back.

	“What is it?” he asked, hiding his concern badly.

	“You still have not had a shower,” Feather said, leaning forward and kissing his forehead gently to reassure him.  “I thought you might appreciate one.” 

	Kos growled in irritation, but let her pull him up from the bed.  “I guess I do need to get the entrails out of my hair,” he admitted. “I hope they throw the book at that shopkeeper.”

	“I am sure that he will remember the encounter for as long as you do,” Feather said as she led him into the bathroom.

	Kos growled again but forbore to answer, instead shedding his trousers, shoes and socks at the door, then advancing on her.  Feather found her knees backed against the shallow tub as he kissed her forcefully, his hands less gentle now.  She stepped lightly over into the shower and turned the water on, and Kos sputtered as he received a jet of water full in the face.  “As I said,” Feather commented mildly.  “You’re filthy.”

	“Oh yes,” Kos agreed enthusiastically, following her.  He backed her up some more, then paused to splay her wings carefully across the wall behind her.  Feather helped him to the best of her ability, but they were somewhat difficult to move in their bindings.  Eventually, however, she was pressed as far back against the wall as possible.  Kos slid his arms under her thighs and lifted her off the ground; the sudden, momentary feeling of weightlessness was breathtaking, before she was slammed back against the wall as he thrust into her.

	She hooked her legs around behind his back, arching her own to match the rhythm of his thrusts.  His eyes were shut, his dark face screwed up into a strange expression, the muscles of his chest glistening in the flow of water.  After that last impression, Feather let her own head fall back and her eyes slide shut, losing herself in the jarring movement of body on body and the soft sounds of water mixed with their intertwining, heavy breathing.

	Things began to fall away from her as they moved—the frustrations of the day, the nagging pain of her injuries were first to go.  Next went the pervasive ache of wings, replaced by the tingling cold feel of moisture trickling down them, and the occasional brush of Kos’s fingers near on the feathers at the bottom, sending tingling shivers up through the sensitive pinions and drawing a high-pitched moan from Feather’s mouth, which made Kos grunt and laugh near her ear.  Last of all went all her awareness and memories outside of this moment, everything except the raw, slick feeling of Kos inside her, his hands holding her close and steady as his thrusts became harder and more frantic, her own hands raking across his back, and his breath, hot and desperate, on her throat.

	He climaxed suddenly inside her with another low grunt, crushing her against him hard as the grunt turned to a whine and then a moan and he sagged against her.  Feather untangled her feet quickly from his back and managed to catch herself as he lost his grip on her sides and let her drop, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he attempted to gain control of himself.

	They stood like that for a moment, then, before Feather could gather herself to move, Kos knelt in front of her, cursing as some of his sore muscles shifted, and put his face between her legs.  The unexpected stimulus made a hot thrill run through Feather, and she moaned, muscles trembling.  His flicking tongue was quickly joined by a finger which slid easily up inside her, and Feather lost herself to the sensations again, this time losing everything but the feeling of warm, tingling heat and that odd feeling of weightlessness again.

	The world narrowed and whirled away into a tingling rush that Feather had only ever felt during uncontrolled flight, falling toward the earth with only the trust that her wings would be able to save her from crashing.  When she regained some semblance of consciousness, she was slumped at the back of the bath, and Kos was wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, looking very self-satisfied and smug.

	She sat up slowly, her feathers heavy with water.  “Now might be a good time to dry off,” she suggested, with a yawn and a stretch.  

	“I might be able to find a clean towel, now that I’ve had a chance to think,” Kos grinned back.

	Feather glared at him.  “Are you implying that having sexual relations with an angel is dull?” she asked.

	The grin faded slightly as his eyes glazed over.  “I’m not an angel,” he said after a brief pause.  “I can lie, you know.”

	Mollified, Feather allowed him to help her out of the tub—her wings were stiff and unwieldy.  They moved back into the other room, where Kos produced a several somewhat small but admittedly clean towels.  He and Feather rubbed each other’s bodies down slowly, both of them shivering, flinching, and laughing as they probed sensitive spots with the towels.  Then Kos moved around behind her.  She turned to follow him, but he patted her shoulder to keep her sitting still, then began to run the towel across the heavy, wet feathers of her wings.

	Feather sucked in a gasp at the feeling and heard Kos chuckle gently behind her again.  He gently teased the feathers with the end of the towel, rubbing along the base of the wings and pausing every so often to soak up water.  She fluttered the ends of her pinions lightly to help, then trembled and moaned at the sensation of tingling warmth spreading through her wings and back.  Kos hummed at her ear and continued working his way down her wings with the towel, then kissed the tops.  Feather found another moan working its way out of her throat, and her head fell back against Kos.

	“I didn’t know angel wings were so sensitive,” he said musingly, his voice vibrating down her feathers. 

	“Perhaps you should have asked,” Feather managed to gasp out in response.  She was trembling, spasms working their way across her wings and down her legs, and the movement was causing the warmth to increase.  “Kos—” she choked out.  “Please—”

	“Are you asking for something?” he murmured, nibbling the top of her ear-lobe.  In frustration, she reached for one of the hands still holding the towel and pushed it down her thigh.  Kos stopped teasing her and slid the hand between her legs again, sliding his fingers up and down across the nub of her.

	Her orgasm was quick and violent, almost immediately after his fingers touched her.  She cried out and bent backwards against him for a moment before collapsing, breathing hard.

	He let her lie against him, pulling his legs up onto the bed to surround her to the best of his ability, and leaning forward against her shaking wings.  They stayed tangled together for some time before Feather finally said, with a trembling breath, “I am afraid that I owe you a towel, by the way.”

	He shrugged.  “There were too many holes in it anyway.”

	She shot him a lazy smile, then turned and nestled against him.  “Perhaps we should get some sleep,” she suggested.  

	“Yeah,” Kos agreed with a weary sigh.  “Maybe I’ll dream about something other than being arrested by shopkeepers.”

	Feather made a sleepy murmur of agreement, but did not say, ‘Perhaps I will dream about something besides flying.’