Peak Pleasure

**An Erotic Short Story Series

By R. Lyle (Resolute)**

Credits

Thank you to Hooter for allowing me to use his character, Ayla, and for beta reading.

A huge thank you to my premium patrons:

Rising Higher

Larry, TheLurkerDragon, and Betastorm

Soaring Between Worlds

Queen of Ace

Prologue

Cutting just a few strands of the net trap had taken Ayla far too long, and the soreness in her beak from the tough rope—just what was it made of?—dissuaded her from trying again. Except, what choice did she have? Nobody had answered her few cries for help. The weight of the net made it harder and harder to breathe, to say nothing of a growing thirst and the edge of hunger. Her prey was long gone. There were surely other predators in the woods.

She was starting to fear for her life.

After rubbing her beak with the leading edge of a wing, she tried worrying at the next rope—and stopped as a stick snapped somewhere behind her.

Who's there? The words died before they reached her parched throat. It was some wild animal come to investigate… or worse, she realized with paralyzing horror, the trapper come to claim their bounty. There were tales of lone eagles captured and sold far beyond familiar lands. She couldn't twist around to see who or what was approaching. Maybe she could sink her beak or a talon into…

"That's, oh my," came a murmur from behind her. It took her a moment to place the words. Human tongue. Thankfully, the one she'd learned for bartering. "Where'd this come from? You shouldn't be here."

A rustle of dead leaves disturbed by footfalls, and then he was in view. A human after all. He wore the strange clothing that the featherless bipeds favored. Dark brown fur atop his head. And his hands… one of his hands was on an object on his hip. A knife. A weapon.

She went very still.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soft, calm. A calm she hoped she could feel, but dared not trust. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to get you out of there, set you free." He took a slow step closer, and his strange face seemed to scrunch as he looked at her in the forest shadow. "Wait, you're one of the great eagles. Arradiva Peaks? Can you understand me?"

Ayla swallowed past the dryness in her throat. "Yes."

"Good, good." The sides of his mouth curled upwards—that was a good thing, wasn't it? "I'm Logan. I'm going to take my knife and cut open the net—looks like whoever set it abandoned it weeks ago, so we should be safe. Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, testing the less-than familiar words in her beak. "Not… hurt. You, will not hurt me?"

"Never." Instead of pulling out his knife, he placed the flat part of his not-wing over his chest. "I swear to you, I will bring you no harm, and I will do everything I can to help."

"You… I accept." There was something else, something her sire had always said after concluding a trade. "Thank you."

"Of course. Here, let me get started." The knife was wicked metal and surely sharper than her own talons and beak from the way it started cutting through the net. He still seemed to have difficulty, so he started switching… hands, that was the word. Pulling at strands to untangle them. The pressure on her back and wings grew lighter, pulled less, until…

She'd expected the net to fall away in some dramatic snap of broken bonds. Instead, it sort of fell apart, and then the Logan human was carefully slipping pieces of it from her feathers. Part of her yearned to throw the ropes off and take to the sky immediately… except trying to escape the initial tangle had brought the rest of the net down on her in the first place. She needed to recover a little before flying.

And, she doubted she had anything to fear from the human. If he'd wanted to hurt or capture her, why go through the trouble of freeing her first? No, she would offer more formal thanks.

At least, she would if she could find water.

As if reading her mind, he put the knife back into some sort of holder by his side and brought out a waterskin next. "If you need a drink, I… well, I'm not sure how easy this will be to handle, but I do have water?"

"Please," she said—or rasped, given how thirsty she felt. It wasn't the easiest tool for an eagle to use, but with a little help, she managed to pour a good stream of water down her gullet. A sigh of relief escaped her beak. "You help… you are helping me, why?"

"Because you needed it?" He glanced at the net, then back at her. "I'd hoped to meet one of the great eagles one day soon, but I never thought I'd be able to help one. I have—well, I have many questions, but I don't want to keep you here."

"Questions? Why?"

"I want to learn more about you—great eagles, I mean." He passed her a stick of something—dried meat, she realized. "You're… majestic, and beautiful, and I've been hoping to simply see one of you for a long time now. We should meet somewhere safer—if you want to." The expression on his face seemed… sadder? "If not, please, fly free and be safe."

Meet him… A scared little part of Ayla, the part that was quite sore from a trap made by hands like his, wanted to swallow the offered meat, fly back to her eyrie, and never leave the Arradiva Peaks again.

Her heart and mind, however, demanded more. To know about this strange Logan who would help her with no reward in mind… he wanted answers, sure, yet he didn't make them a price for his help. Besides, he was human! She'd only heard stories of them before, and now she could have her own curiosity sated. She already put her eyes to work taking in his form: pale skin, gentle hazel eyes, and that headfur looked as soft as any of her down feathers.

"I will meet you tomorrow," she said, stretching her wings. "Where, and when?"

Part One Three months later

Ayla shivered on her roost. It wasn't anything to do with the weather, though there was a time of year to blame. A time that just about every eagle in the Arradiva Peaks planned for and celebrated.

Mating season.

Those who didn't already have mates would be wheeling and dancing in the skies to the south. She hadn't quite been looking forward to the season earlier in the year; who would settle for an eagle with no living family in the Peaks? There'd been a time where she considered making the journey to perhaps more friendly ranges. Then again, she did keep herself well-preened and fit, so perhaps the roving eyes of a couple males had been genuine interest.

Not that she'd find out now. No, after that first fateful meeting with Logan, she'd met him time and again to talk and learn. Between meetings, she'd had to go and learn all she could about humans. The lorekeepers had plenty of information at their claws: culture, politics, behavior… anatomy. The curse of knowledge from one hadn't been given as a negative, more as a way to point out how different avians and mammals could be. Males had a phallus they put in their females instead of a proper cloacal kiss. They gave birth to live young and never laid eggs! Strange, isn't it?

It had taken every bit of Ayla's willpower to act disbelieving instead of hungrily curious. It took teasing answers out of two different lorekeepers before she felt she had an understanding of human mating.

It didn't help that the more she'd learned, the more that hunger had grown.

She'd met with Logan at least twice a week, sometimes every day, after her rescue. Such a fascinating being, even aside from being human! He had no end of questions about 'great eagles'—and, as they grew more at ease, he wanted to know about her. She'd finally gotten to touch his head-fur, which he called hair. It was so soft! So delicate, yet as strong as any of her feathers. It had actually taken effort to keep from just sitting there and preening him again and again, not helped by the fact that he'd seemed to enjoy it.

Their last meeting had been over a week ago; he'd needed to return to a human town for supplies, and of course she needed to keep a presence at her eyrie before it appeared neglected. So, she'd told him exactly how to reach her. Not that she was expecting him to appear; they'd already agreed to meet on the day of an upcoming eclipse half a season away, though she'd made clear that any visit before then would be most welcome.

It was a foolish thing to hope for more. Even if he came all the way out to her, why would he show interest outside his own species? At least in the way that she found herself dreaming about. Just because he'd said he liked being hugged in her wings…

No, she was gripped in the talons of a yearning, burning desire. One that went beyond the urges of mating season. I want to mate with a human. Unheard of, though surely she wouldn't be the first. Maybe it was an unspoken undercurrent; alone as she felt, she wasn't the only one foregoing the dance of the skies or the comfort of an existing mate. How many others felt strange, alien urges like hers? How many of the eagles living beyond the Peaks and other strongholds did so because they'd been enraptured by the exotic?

Or maybe she was the only one. Too newly adult to know better, unable to distinguish friendship from desire… She'd just ride out the mating season. Her friend would meet her at the day of the eclipse, and they could marvel at the moon blocking the sun. She could forget—

Rocks scattered outside the entry to her eyrie. Knocked down by something… or someone.

Ayla's senses were on alert as she slowly crept towards the entrance, her wings half-mantled and ready to fight or flee. She'd had nightmares after the net trap, of some predator or pack of bandits finding her helpless. There hadn't been one in over a week. She hoped this was one, or a random rockfall, or anything but an intrusion.

Something dangled along the side of the entrance. A vine—no, a rope, wiggling as someone descended from the plateau above. She crept along the other side of the cave, slow as a prowling cat, even folding her talons to not click on the stone. There, a shape. A human? It moved down with one hand on the rope and the other gripping whatever outcrops it could find. Except, the shape of it was familiar, the way he moved, the…

He stopped, leaned in, and softly called: "Ayla? Are you there?"

She froze, heart pattering but no longer out of fear. Logan! Here! He'd come to see her! In shade and concealed as she was, he was unlikely to spot her unless she moved. Or spoke.

So, she did both. "I'm here, hello." She stepped into the light at least enough for him to see. "You came all this way?"

He grunted as he continued his descent. "Not that far," he said as he found purchase in the cave wall. "Worth it to see you a little sooner."

She felt like poofing her feathers as if she was a hatchling getting treats. Instead, she kept her enthusiasm restrained until he was on the ground, both feet under him. Then she swooped in, almost literally, as she mantled her wings over his back. He hugged her, strong arms in a gentle hold around her chest, and he even leaned his head forward. Not only was he here, she could preen his hair! The dark brown strands were as fine as down yet long enough to let her run her beak over the length of them, bit by bit, combing it into her liking… well, mostly just reveling in the texture. And there was more of him, he could easily preen her in return. Or maybe even reach under her tail…

Ayla forced the thought out of her mind—for now. There was no telling if he was even open to considering mating outside his species. It wasn't unheard of; there was an entire community of half-elves in one of their cities, after all! For now she just let herself enjoy his presence.

Though, once she was temporarily satisfied with preening his hair into place, she felt a little awkward about showing him around. She'd seen human buildings, though she hadn't been inside one. Surely the cave would look like just a hole in the rock to him?

"Oh, that's smart," he said on looking at the ventilation setup. "These channels move the air… I knew the great eagles would have a keen grasp on such things but it's another thing entirely to see it!"

She fought the urge to duck her head under a wing. The ventilation channels weren't entirely her design, she'd just made some tweaks to what was already available. Then there was the recessed food and water storage, the crafting area, and of course, her perch and bedding. Much of the latter was traded; there were competent weavers in the Peaks, but it was easier to let them work on utilities and leave finer textiles to the wingless peoples.

"You… like it?" she dared to ask as they rearranged some bedding for seating cushions. There was still enough daylight refracted through ensconced crystals that she didn't need to bring out any glowstones, at least.

"I do!" He ran two fingers along her outer primary feathers—she might have suggested it was a gesture of strong friendship. And it was! Even if it might normally be a prelude to other touches. "You have a very nice home. How long does it take to smooth all this stone?"

"This one took nearly a full season, we only work for short times and take care not to create too much dust. Some of the well-established families have far grander eyries."

"Still, I think you should be proud of your home. Though that does raise a question." He gestured back towards the entrance, or maybe the sky beyond. "I was questioned when entering the Peaks—thanks for letting me know what to say—but I haven't seen more than one or two great eagles between the border and here. Is it just not a busy area?"

"There are a score of eyries along these cliffs alone," she said. "Most of the eagles are further inside, around the central peaks, this time of year. It's mating season."

"Oh." Logan blinked in a very eagle-like expression of surprise, and then held up his hands. "Oh! If I'm keeping you from attending—"

She shook her head before he could continue. "I… chose not to, this year." She felt one last, faint pang of uncertainty. Then she committed to her course. "In truth, I don't want to mate with another eagle. I…"

Or at least, she tried to commit. What if he found her curiosity amusing? Or worse? She might as well be a fledgling, for all that her courage had abandoned her.

Logan touched her wing again. "Hey, if you don't want to talk about mating, you don't have to."

A laugh bubbled in her throat. I want nothing more than to say it!

She could, in a way. "I do want to mate. It's just… unusual."

"Unusual?"

"Yes." She clicked her beak and tried to at least ask around the issue. "I found myself wondering about other species. Other thinking beings."

"Oh, that's not unusual at all—I mean, some may think so, but what do they know? There's a half-elf community in Sothward. If anything, humans get something of a reputation."

"I admit, I'd heard that." It was time. If not now, it could be months again until she dared. "And… that's why I'm curious. I learned about how humans mate, human males, and…" It took all her willpower to say the words, and she somehow kept herself from hiding her face in her wings. "I want to mate with a human."

The expression on Logan's strange, beakless face was hard to interpret. Surprise? Not disgust or detachment, at least. Was he… curious? If nothing else, she recognized the light in his eye before he even asked the question.

"So… I didn't want to pry about possibly sensitive topics, but, what interests you about a human male?"

"It's so… different. Different in a good way. I hope." This was easier. She could pretend she was just answering his questions about how eagles hunted or made crafts. "For eagles, mating season is when those without partners dance and flaunt to attract one, or those already together renew their courtship."

It was a little more awkward to talk about the actual mechanics, given that humans were certainly more private about mating—even out of the elements, they wore clothing! Still, she tried: the preening, the rubbing together, then clasping together and the cloacal kiss. She tried, and contrasted with humans: "From what I know, there are separate… structures, for mating, between males and females? And that the male arousal inserts into the female?"

He gave the quiet sort of chuckle that she'd identified as unsure, if not nervous. Like when she'd offered to repay him for saving her life. Maybe it's not a bad sign, then?

"I know it's a very dispassionate description," she continued, trying not to talk faster than her beak could manage. "Our lorekeepers have only basic knowledge, and even then it's not something they often share, I think."

He nodded. "No, that's fair. Truth be told I think I learned a few things from your description of great eagle mating; the books mentioned a 'mating flight' and then skipped straight to nests, eggs, and hatchlings."

"I think that's how our lorekeepers view it. 'The actual mating isn't very interesting,' one told me. Ha! It was almost tempting to tell him why I was asking."

"I can imagine," he said, his soft laugh much more relaxed. "Would he have been shocked?"

"Perhaps? I don't think he'd even consider it possible."

He tilted his head—he couldn't go nearly as far as she could, but she'd noticed he'd picked up the quarter-tilt of an eagle when he was thinking or questioning. "Right, on that subject… yes, there is a, well, a phallus that grows with arousal, and then women, human females, have separate openings. One for excretion, one for, well, intercourse. And then birthing after the mating is, ah, successful."

"Only two openings? I—female great eagles—have three inside the vent: one each for excretion of urea and spoor, and the oviduct."

"Oh." He blinked. "You know, I suppose women have three as well. But the three are separate openings on the body."

Interesting as it was to learn about human females, Ayla still had a burning curiosity for the other side of human mating. "And the males?"

"Two separate openings, one for urine and essence, one for, ah, spoor as you put it."

She had a few more questions: the size and shape of it, how long mating lasted—several times longer than with her kind!—and how pleasure was gained. There was less pressing together and more squeezing, sliding, and movement. Then there was one question left to ask; thankfully, Logan was the one who first spoke into the silence that followed the last of the explanations:

"You said you wanted to mate, or try mating, with a human male… did you, ah, already have one in mind?"

Despite herself, her feathers started to stand on edge. The anticipation was almost as bad as his first approach all that time ago when she was trapped… And now, as then, I have to trust him.

"I do," she said, gazing into his hazel eyes, and let her nerves make a concession. "But I'm not sure if he'd be interested. Even though I could, right now, I'm afraid to ask."

His tongue wetted his lips. "I, well. I don't want to presume… let's say, if that man isn't someone I know, then I couldn't speak for him? But if… if this man is here, he'd be, he wouldn't say no."

She couldn't believe her ears. "But would he… you… say yes?"

"I want to say yes." He reached out and, after brief hesitation, placed a hand on her chest. "I just, I don't want to hurt you. You're such a brilliant being, and more beautiful than the most golden sunset. But I'm so worried that it… what if it wouldn't work?"

She did duck her head, though at least she didn't hide under a wing. "I know there are differences, and that my form may not be what you're… used to, from a female."

He shook his head and gently ran his fingers through her feathers—such a gentle sensation, different even from the most careful of talons. "I don't think your form is too strange. Different, like you said, but… I admit I had something of a dream a few nights past, of you holding me in your wings, your feathers so soft and warm on my skin. I tried to put it out of my mind, but now you've said you want to mate with a human, and, well." He moved his head back into her line of sight, hazel eyes capturing hers. "My only fear is hurting you, or doing wrong by you."

"I trust that you wouldn't unless by accident." Her smile was much different from his, but she'd taught him to recognize it, and the anxious lines on his skin eased. "And we can, if we try to mate, we just go slowly, gently. If we truly aren't compatible…" She hated to think it, but, it had to be said. "If it doesn't work, I would still like to consider you as close a friend as possible."

"I wouldn't want to lose you as a friend either." He laid the inside of his hand—palm—on the side of her beak, fingers gently cupping her head. "So, Ayla of the Arradiva Peaks, would you do me the honor of mating with me?"

She leaned into his touch, enjoying the warmth, enjoying him. "I would, if you would have me. You won't even have to perform a courtship flight."

He chuckled. "That's good, because I wouldn't be a very impressive flier."

"You already impressed me when you saved my life. Though," she murmured, tilting her head as she regarded his form—which was now unacceptably obscured. "Will you need more warmth or anything else to be comfortable?"

"No, this is… well, a little cool, but just being close to you is warmth enough. Why?"

She tapped his shirt with her beak. "Unless humans mate with clothing on…"

"Oh. Right."

She tried not to flinch. "Or, if it's too quick…"

"A little… but, I don't think I want to slow down." A hint of red crept up his cheeks, though whether from nerves or passion she couldn't say. Still, he didn't hesitate; first to be removed, strangely, was his shoes. With those set aside he unlaced the ties of his vest and shirt. He pulled them over his head and out of his arms to reveal a chest mostly covered in short, wiry hair that went down his belly. She'd seen his chest before, once, though she doubted she'd enjoy preening there as much as his head-hair. Not that she wouldn't try, especially as… was it too soon to consider him her mate?

Maybe, she thought, but it also won't be long now.

She nuzzled his head as he looked down to take off his pants; it was an effort of will to resist nibbling and preening his hair just a little more. So soft! Her heart beat behind her breast as he slipped out of the last of his clothing. The skin she'd never seen was more pale, though a thicker patch of hair drew her eye at once. Or rather, what stood out from it.

"So, uh, this is what a human male looks like?" He sat with his weight on his ankles and knees, and spread his legs apart. One hand went to hold the admittedly strange outer bits. "The, well, this part is the scrote." His brief explanation—it held the testes, which were sensitive but good to lightly play with—almost missed her ears as she studied every part of him. "And then this, this is what I think you're interested in. Though it's only a little aroused right now. Uh, go ahead and, if you want to touch, just be careful?"

"I wouldn't dare hurt you." It was already thicker than one of his fingers and not much shorter. She shivered. How much bigger does it get? Ever mindful of his skin, especially in his most sensitive spots, she moved her beak closer until she could gently touch the front of it to his… what had he once called it? Manhood?

It was warm! Much warmer than his often cool skin. And as she breathed out of her nares and traced it, it twitched. Oddly, the skin on the length itself was a little darker than the pale tan surrounding it. Or maybe that's just normal for humans. She breathed in, and she could catch a hint of musk, a bit of… she wished she had better nose, it was generally known that great eagles had a poor sense of smell. She wanted to experience all of soon-to-be her human.

Sight and touch would have to do for now.

She turned her head to make sure the hook of her beak didn't catch on anything when she lifted the length. She could feel another twitch, a faint pulsing of blood, and it grew! Moving her head became an experiment, and a slow stroke up and down the underside seemed the best way to get more size from him. His hand went to her neck as he sucked in a breath; he was rising above her beak now, thicker, as long as one of his fingers, and either more sensitive or he was feeling the same sort of need she had when she rubbed a river-polished stone on herself…

"Is this how large it gets?" she whispered, moving back enough to study it. A bead of moisture gathered at the tip.

"Just about." He moved his other hand to grip himself, and—the skin pulled back?

Her eye focused on this new development. She'd thought it was a solid… tube of skin was accurate, but hardly did justice to the intriguing anatomy before her. Now he pulled the loose part of the end back to reveal a slightly glistening, dark red… again, mushroom was apt and wrong all at once. Details shifted in her mind. No doubt this new part was even more sensitive, hence why it was covered by skin, just as the vent protected her cloaca. Every great eagle learned young that you did not put your claws in sensitive places.

Which did make it amusing that the opening he'd described looked like a claw-tip hole.

It turned out, sensibly, to be the source of the wetness. She followed a whim and opened her beak, stuck her tongue out, and touched it to him.

His huff and tension of his body almost gave her pause, but the hand on her neck hadn't shifted to push her away. So, she carefully licked again, catching the driplet like one might enjoy the nectar of a flower. It was much the same consistency, or perhaps a little more slippery. The taste was the biggest difference: salty, with a hint of that musk.

She considered something, and withdrew enough to look up at his face; was that pleasure on his features? "I don't think I could, but do humans use their mouths on each other?"

He licked his lips again. "They—we—do. Sometimes it's just about the only thing a man and woman do, there's no risk of getting with child."

Getting with child… gravid, of course. For the eggless.

"Does it… feel good?"

"What you're doing feels good, yes. I won't compare you with a human. You… I don't know, with practice you might be able to do more than just tease with your tongue." He caressed her feathers. "But I don't think that's what you want to do right now, is it?"

Intriguing as the prospect was, he was absolutely right. "Do you, would you want to see me? Touch me?"

He blinked, and she definitely recognized a sort of blank confusion. "Ayla," he said, moving his hand from his 'manhood' to under her beak and lifting her face until he was looking her in the eye. "I want to try mating with you. Why would I not want to see and feel and learn all about your beautiful body?"

She would have ducked her head if he wasn't holding it, a gesture that had her heart thrumming. He sees me. He wants me. Is this just a dream?

Then let's give him something to gaze upon, a brazen part of her whispered.

"Then let me show you," she said, taking that tailwind of heedless confidence. With one step back, she drew herself up to her full height, towering over him as he was still kneeling. He wore the same expression she'd seen when they'd watched a sunrise together, or when she told him about her kind… or, she now realized, whenever he'd look at her.

He really does find me beautiful, doesn't he?

Good. Then he'll enjoy this next part.

She took one step back, and mantled her wings between them. One step to the side, and she drew one wing down, back, almost enough to give him a glimpse of her full form… and then she stepped back again and turned until her other wing now obscured her. She wasn't as good a land-dancer as many, but then, how many could he have seen? His mouth fell open as she turned in place, her wings flowing like water, her tail rippling upward but only as she slowly spun away, leaving him with barely a peek underneath.

His gaze followed every hint, every tease, and drank in the sight of her as she finally faced him and spread her wings.

"Gods, Ayla," he breathed, eyes wide.

"The dance can go longer," she admitted, "and I'm not very practiced at it. But I want you to touch me, now."

"Are you kidding? That was better than anything I've seen a human do. I'm almost tempted to ask for the full dance."

That unusual courage in her was as effective as keeping her from hiding her face in her wings as his touch had been. Instead, she stepped closer, and balanced so she could bring her tail between her legs. "Almost? Does something else pull your interest?"

Rather than going right for her tail, not that she'd have minded, he traced his fingers through her feathered breast and downwards. Lingering doubts still nipped at her surety—did he really find her that attractive, or would he realize they were too different after all? Especially as one hand dropped to caress around her vent. Still, her feathers lifted in a wave as he explored, teased, over that sensitive area, only made more so by the building excitement.

One thought did give her pause. "Can you see well enough? I have other lights…"

"I can see you. Right here, yes?" He circled right over her vent with one finger, paused as she shuddered, and then smiled. "I take that as a yes?"

"Yes," she breathed. "And then, inside, if you follow the upper path…"

"My nails are trimmed but I know I have calluses." His smile grew at the tilt of her head. "If it's too rough or I do something wrong, please don't feel bad about stopping me."

She nodded. Rather than pushing in, he withdrew back to his own loins. Before she could even realize why he'd rolled a finger through the glistening drops there—more numerous than before—he returned to trace her entrance again with a far silkier touch. It hit her at the same time as the pleasure: he was easing his way inside. Her heart warmed; how had she gotten so lucky to have such a caring soon-to-be-mate?

Then, pressure, sending her to shivering as the tip of his finger slipped inside her. That the intrusion was warm and slick did much to ease her reflexive clench; her body was confused enough that it wasn't sure which instincts to act on. The digit curled upward as soon as it found the divide between oviduct and anus, and barely more pressure was needed to bring him up to the second joint of the three.

"Huh," he said, his other hand resuming its caress of her fluffed-up plumage. "Does your, uh, passage make more wetness?"

"There is some," she breathed, trying to relax herself for him. A difficult prospect with mating on the mind. "To ease the reception of male seed, or when laying an egg."

"Makes sense." His finger shifted, and he made a small sound as she accidentally clenched on him. "I was a bit worried, if human women don't make enough wetness then mating is uncomfortable for them." The moment she relaxed, a second finger entered, setting her to a new round of squirming. "I think I'll fit, at least?"

Much as she wanted to worry about comfort, her thoughts were rather preoccupied with him fitting. "We can go slow, to start. Please." She took a half-step back, his fingers sliding out nearly upsetting her balance, and then turned around and backed up as she looked over her shoulder. Her tail settled on his belly and chest, though after a thought she flicked it to the side so he could see where to aim. "I want to feel you now, Logan."

He still looked on her in awe, even as he brought a hand down to stroke himself—he'd lost some of the stiffness of before, though it quickly returned. With the other he moved two fingers to either side of her vent and spread it open. A warm flash ran through her at the pressure… and the anticipation. The brush of hot, soft skin on her underfluff was no less thrilling, and then he was at her vent, and her body wasn't sure what to make of the change in pressure and then the sudden spread of her as his slick, rounded head pressed inside. As before, he found her oviduct, angled his hips, and then—

"Logan," she gasped, trembling as a barely-yielding bar of heat, like sun-warmed stone, filled her in ways she'd never thought possible. It was probably too long before she realized he'd stopped. "Keep going. Please."

He nodded, and grunted as another claw-width of himself pushed inside. "Hnh. Feels like you're trying to push and pull me at the same time."

"My instincts," she breathed. One inhale and push to relax later, and she caught his eye as she looked back at him. "One part of me says egg, push it out. Another says, mate, bring his seed inside. Is it too much?"

"Different." He flashed a smile. "Good different. Gods, you feel amazing. So very hot, snug, and you're just… this is even better than I imagined. Let me know when you want more."

Much as she wanted to force herself onto him, she considered the dilemma. Two different instincts, a body unused to the kind of mating from such different anatomy… that's it!

"If you, can you reach with your fingers to rub around my vent?"

He frowned, trying to maneuver around her tail until he gave up and reached around her front. His other hand went to her chest, right on her breastbone, and she felt some of the weight relieved from her talons. Then a press… "Like this? Oh!"

The moment he started stimulating the nerves that said cloacal kiss, the warring sensations in her tipped quite dramatically towards mating. She could feel less friction on his intruding length as her passage grew wetter. He wasn't even pushing when her muscles started to pull him in deeper. They still quivered in confusion after every tug, unused to being stretched except to push something out… but then, doubtless recognizing what worked, he started to rub over her vent around his girth. It didn't take him long to find the rhythm that best matched a proper cloacal kiss.

Her underfluff tickled the short, curly hair on his loins within moments.

"That worked," he said, his voice tinged with awe—or perhaps the same pleasure she was feeling. "How do you feel?"

"Strange. Amazing." She dared to lean back just a little more, and now his skin was close to touching her underside. "You?"

"Never better." The hand on her chest rubbed through her feathers. "So, if I'm getting this right, pressure is your best source of pleasure?"

"Yes. Yes." A ripple ran through her muscles around his length buried in her. "Though feeling you in me… better than I imagined."

"I'm glad," he said, and then he shifted his grip to better hold her. "But I wonder if…"

That last bit of him pushed inside, and she hiked her tail mostly out of instinct, eager to give her male the best access he could. Which had the likely intended benefit of pushing the skin around his arousal right on her vent, and he gently pulled her closer still, his hips moving to rub himself on as much as in her—

It was like lightning. The confusion of her instincts faded into the background as, finally, the right feeling of mating surged forward. That she was spread around him just made it feel like even more pressure. She could feel herself gripping and squeezing him inside, suddenly very eager to receive a male. Her lungs filled only to empty again. She squirmed on him, on her mate, her wings trembling as the pleasure built and built and—

"Haaah!" she cried, her back arching as he held her close, the illusion of a cloacal kiss and the realized fantasy of a human male both fueling her completion. From the way he throbbed and grunted, she must have been doing something pleasurable to him, though she couldn't feel anything but his hot girth holding her open in such deviant yet delicious ways. He kept grinding against her, kept pushing that ecstasy into her body…

"Wait," she finally managed to breathe, and when he tried to pull away more than skin-to-vent she summoned enough control to keep them still. "Just, hold." She shivered again. "Logan, that… Logan."

He switched to caressing her again. "Was that what I thought it was?"

She nodded, barely trusting her voice.

"Felt great," he said, his voice husky. "Didn't mean to finish you so fast, though."

"I just, I need to get, my breath back. You, still not finished?"

His fingers were quite lovely in her feathers. "No, but it's fine. Worst case I can use my hands on myself."

She shook her head. "No, just…" Usually she'd rub herself to a finish and then wash the rock and put it away to dry. Except, last mating season, she'd gone, what? Three times in one sitting? She deliberately tightened herself around him and was rewarded with a faint groan. "Why don't you, you show me. How humans mate. When I'm ready, we can do that again."

"Okay. I'll go slow." His firm, steady grip returned, and she adjusted herself forward following his guidance. One wing braced on the cushions below, the other in the crook of his arm, and she hiked her tail high—from the way he looked down between them, maybe it would help him to watch himself go into her? The idea was quickly proven right as he sucked in a breath and started moving his hips, this time forward and back, sliding himself inside her oviduct. Of course, her poor instincts were still confused, but the recent completion was enough to sate them for a time.

In fact, she now had the freedom to be deliberate about her muscles: clenching when he was deep, relaxing as he pulled away. The effect on him was as obvious as it was intoxicating: he matched her rhythm, even speeding up as she used what leverage she had to push back onto him.

It didn't last; he grunted as her egg-laying instincts reasserted, trying to push the girth out of her. An idea flitted into her mind.

"Logan," she said, catching his attention. He barely slowed, his own stocky form shivering now. "If it—ah—pushes too much, wait, then deep."

He nodded, albeit with a frown. Concentration or confusion, she wasn't sure, and she once again didn't trust her voice to explain further. Her mate—yes, he was her mate now—was smart and curious, though, and quickly recognized the pattern she'd hoped would happen. The next time her rippling squeezes came and went as they tried to 'lay' a non-existent egg, he paused until they passed. Then he pressed himself deep, and more importantly, right on her vent again. The surge switched which way she was clenching, and now he had trouble pulling back out. The fleeting flares of pleasure might have frustrated her—it bespoke a too-eager male who couldn't get a proper kiss lined up—but then, he was her mate, and this was proper. Or at least, she'd make it be proper.

She wanted him. All of him. All of his pleasure. Because she was going to give him hers.

"When," she tried to say, only to gasp as he pressed her again. Her words nearly failed her. "When, your finish…" Her beak was open as she hungered for air. "Close, again." It didn't make sense, he wouldn't know—

"That'll happen," he growled, fingers curling into her feathers, the short nails actually grazing her skin at one point. "Close."

It took her far too long to realize he wasn't just agreeing to be close. She could feel the throbbing of his girth once she finished again—though unlike before, it was one that fell into pieces that built towards the next, he was moving too much to let her ride it out fully. What would have been frustration with another of her kind transformed into a strange eagerness. He was so strange, so different, that she couldn't even have a proper finish… no, not until he had finished, and she could properly carry his virility into her.

… is it possible for him and I, like it is for humans and elves, to…

She didn't have time to think on the implications. He groaned and his grip became metal, pulling her to him; she now feared she wasn't close enough to finish with him but then his fingers found her vent and pressed and rubbed, and there was so much happening, she could feel him twitching and swelling again—no, that was a liquid warmth filling her, she needed to arch against him and make sure it went deep and that her cloaca kissed him properly…

Dark spots swam in her vision. She pulled in breath before she lost consciousness, before the exquisite, full-body cascade of pleasure was lost to her. It was almost too much. Her muscles and instincts were still in partial rebellion at the strange intrusion, still fighting with her need to draw him in deeper. It wasn't enough to stop them from their union. It would never be enough.

My mate. My life.

At some point he did end up slipping from her, along with a good bit of mess; those egg-laying muscles had finally won the struggle.

Is he mine for life, though?

Great eagles usually perched together after a successful mating. Strangely, he lay down and gently brought her with once she'd turned around, leading to her resting on his front, their loins still close together and doubtless dripping even more. Unusual as the position was—almost as vulnerable as laying with her belly up!—she found herself melting into his embrace, and of course, slowly and carefully preening his hair back into a semblance of order.

Even if he was, where would we live? Who would accept the two of us?

His lips touched her neck. When she looked down, he was smiling, and she lifted her crest in her own smile.

And… what if one of us does want eggs—offspring?

There were too many questions to answer.

He touched his palm to her beak again. "So… good?"

"Better than." She nuzzled him. "You?"

"Best ever," he said, and touched his lips to her beak. She'd seen and learned about kissing, except it seemed a thing that people with lips did.

Can I even give him all the affection he needs?

"So," he continued, gazing into her eyes. "After cleaning up, I… imagine we'll have to talk about things."

She nodded, back to not trusting her voice.

"For now… well. It's okay if you say no, but… at least for tonight, can I call you my mate?"

Then again, maybe…

"Only if I can call you mine," she churred, pressing their cheeks together. "And later… yes, talk. Good talk, I hope."

"I hope too." His lips touched the side of her beak, and then he returned to rubbing cheeks. "My mate. Ayla."

"Logan, my mate." She felt a thrill at saying the words. "My mate."

His fingers went down to the base of her tail; she hadn't told him that was a place to touch for courtship, but he was certainly going to learn. She arched into the touch.

Even earlier in the day, she hadn't truly thought it possible to share this between a human and a great eagle.

Right now, she knew two things.

She was glad to have been wrong.

And, sore as she would be if she took him again even once, tomorrow might be the earliest they'd pull away from each other long enough to talk.

Peak Pleasure

**An Erotic Short Story Series

By R. Lyle (Resolute)**

Part Two

Logan wasn't a virgin—even for sex with a nonhuman, thanks to a tryst with a very lithe and eager kobold a year ago. He still wouldn't have imagined he'd end up contemplating a relationship outside his species.

And yet, here he was, laying on a bedroll and wrapped in the mantled wings of a truly beautiful eagle.

The great eagles of the Arravida Peaks often mate for life. He'd written those words in his journal after one of many sessions drinking in all of Ayla's knowledge about her kind. In the here and now, he was pretty sure that was going to be a key topic for their talk. He hadn't realized the true depth of his affection—his love—for the golden-brown angel he'd once rescued until she'd admitted she wanted to mate with a human male.

The more he'd thought about it while asking her about the why, the more he'd hoped she would choose him. Though of course, there had been the fear of ruining their friendship, and the uncertainty that she was even interested in him, and… good thing none of those worries matter now. If anything, the next questions would be an easier sort of difficult.

He very gently, very slowly stroked his fingers over and through her plumage. She made an unconscious murmur, barely audible, and curled her wings just a little closer around him. Usually, he hated sleeping with his feet completely uncovered. This time it was the only reason he wasn't overheating. He wouldn't want to muss her feathers with sweat… at least, not unless they were otherwise too occupied to care about such things.

The thought immediately had his waking wood stiffen against her… underfluff, he supposed. A blush on his cheeks as he remembered their very thorough experimentation. They'd cleaned up, shared a snack, gone for a second round, and then promptly found themselves in need of a nap. Past the soft glow of crystals was warm light of what he assumed was a setting sun. Only a couple hours, then.

A warm surge went through his loins as Ayla pressed down on him—no, she was just stirring, perhaps from his continued petting. Not that he could bring himself to stop.

An amber eye slitted open and fixed on him, albeit still slightly clouded by sleep. She still made soft sounds as she more consciously embraced him.

"Good evening," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her beak. "At least, I think it's evening."

"Mmm, I don't care." She nuzzled the rounded rostrum over his hair. "I get to wake up with my human."

"I can't think of any better ways to wake."

Her preening slowed, then she wriggled her hips against his. An intake of breath came as her heated vent slid over his arousal. "I can think of one. Are you wanting to mate again?"

"Not quite? I mean, I won't refuse, but this is what we call waking wood. Human males often have it when, well, waking up."

"So it's not arousal?"

"Not on its own. But, you—ah." He squirmed as she started grinding on him. She'd braced herself with talons and wings, and those piercing eyes studied whatever expression was on his face. "If you're, if you want to mate…"

She hesitated for a heartbeat and nearly averted her gaze. "I… am not sure I'm ready just yet. It doesn't ache, but I'm not used to mating this way."

"Then we don't have to," he said, cupping her cheek—or where her cheek would be—in his palm. She leaned into the touch… and shivered as she rubbed along him again. "Though… feels like you still want to have your own finish."

"I…" Fortunately, the caress of his palm also worked to keep her from ducking her head in embarrassment. "It feels selfish, to not give you pleasure in return."

Logan smirked and rolled his hips. "Your pleasure pleases me. And, I didn't really get to see what it's like for your mating. Not that I'm built like an eagle—is this good enough?"

She settled towards the base of his shaft and bore down on him. Another shudder lifted her feathers all over her body. "This is very good," she breathed. "Not… long…"

Unsure what else to do while she pressed more than rubbed, he sat up enough to plant a few kisses on her neck. "Good, Ayla. I'm all yours to enjoy. Your human. Your mate."

The subtle roll of her hips grew sharper and then she moaned—or at least, the avian cry was close enough to a moan that he felt a little thrill. Tremors ran along her form, from the feathers brushing his face to her widespread wings to the almost complete intimate connection of their lower bodies. Her breath came in short gasps and her eyelids fluttered as she rode out her swell of pleasure.

When she slumped, he was there to hold her; despite being just a little larger than he was, her avian form was surprisingly light. She tucked her head under his chin and made a sort of churring noise—pretty obviously contentment, if the rest of her body language was anything to judge. It didn't take long for his arousal to fade, though his waking wood didn't easily soften.

"Good, I take it?" he asked once she'd recovered enough.

"Very," she murmured, almost too soft to hear. "If I didn't need to walk, I'd have taken you inside me again."

"Oh." It took effort to not start moving his hips and see if he couldn't change her mind. Don't think about sex wouldn't work with them pressed together. He forced himself to put his brain to work. "I couldn't help but notice, you reach your finish much quicker than I do. Not that that's a bad thing! I just forgot to ask when we were talking, before, and I want to make sure you're satisfied, too."

"I am almost too satisfied, Logan. Our mating is quick—many will clasp together in a dive and mate while falling. Some even swear by it. But, we can mate multiple times by the time you reach your finish. When you press yourself against my vent…" A full-body shudder ran through her, and she nearly bore down on his loins before pulling away. "It's like the pleasure never stops. It's overwhelming, in the best way."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Just as long as you're comfortable. I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't hurt me." She nuzzled him, then chuckled softly. "Pleasuring me until I can't walk, though…"

"Maybe one day, when you're more used to mating with me? Then I can bring you water and food and whatever else you want while you recover."

Ayla went still, shuddered, and then pulled away. "No more tempting me, or I'll want to do that right now."

"Okay, okay," he said, grinning at her as she tried to smooth her feathers back down. He sat up and retrieved his underclothes. "To get off the subject… you don't have to answer right now, I can stay for at least a week. Then I have an appointment in the city of Tosten, about five days away. After that, I can come back? How do we want to, you know, continue this?"

"Or I could visit you?" Her eyes fixed on him. "Unless you don't want to…"

"I'd love to show you the city," he replied, holding his hands up. "It's just that the room I rent is barely more than half this chamber in size. I worry you'd be far too cramped for comfort."

"Tosten has a trading station for the Peaks, yes? I'm sure they'll have a perch to spare."

"The city, then! And… I honestly don't know what to ask next. Um."

She leaned in to nuzzle—no, to preen a lock of his hair. Strange as it had seemed the first time, he had to admit her ministrations were quite comforting. "Given that we can't… do you want offspring?"

He took in a breath. "I figured I'd settle down at some point, but I haven't exactly dreamed about having a family. Maybe it's not the worst thing if I don't." He tilted his head. "What about you?"

"I don't know. I… part of me wants to feel life stirring in an egg, to guide a young soul through life. But I don't want to mate with another eagle, not after being with you. Or while I'm with you, too. Maybe if a pair gives up their egg…" She nearly shrunk in on herself before straightening again. "I don't want to put mated for life on your wings—on your shoulders yet? Not so soon."

He caressed her plumage until she leaned in closer. "There's a lot to figure out. You don't have lips for kissing, I can't fly. But I think if we can work through the differences, we already have so much in common." He cupped her head in his hands. "I'm willing to give at least tomorrow a try?"

She mantled her wings over him. "I am too." Another lock of hair got preened in the comfortable silence. "For this moment, food?"

"Food," he agreed.

After learning how to cook strips of meat on an ingenious stove-like setup, their adventure stumbled on temporary defeat in combining their sleeping arrangements when she preferred to stand on a carved perch. Fortunately, breaking fast was a much easier endeavor.

It didn't take long for their continued talk to turn back to the sensual.

"I admit," she said, "I'm curious about you using your mouth."

He kept his expression somewhere between neutral and consideration. On the one hand, he didn't like the idea of putting his lips where she excreted, even if it was a different passage from his target. Although… "Maybe sometime, though I think I'd like to get better at using my fingers. Do eagles… I suppose it's impossible without lips."

"Oh, not in your way, no." Her head ducked down to his loins. "But we can use our beaks."

The rounded front started rubbing in circles over his bulge, though after a moment she switched to up-and-down strokes that had him stiffening before too long. By the time he was nearly hard it didn't take more than a hint for him to get nude again. He already knew her beak was surprisingly warm, but something about the way she tilted her head to look up at him, the way she lingered and teased…

"Hold yourself still?"

He frowned and did so, not sure what she intended—

That is a very sharp beak, he should have thought, as she opened it and went down. Worry ebbed away as she carefully angled herself. Her breath was warm and moist, followed by touches of a mouth as soft as any woman's. The thin tip of her tongue glided over his foreskin, circling around his tip… and then slipped under the skin, directly caressing his sensitive head. It took effort not to thrust his hips forward.

"Ayla," he breathed, squirming under her increasingly confident exploration. Every shiver or huff—like when her tongue stroked over his doubtlessly leaking pinhole—didn't escape her searching gaze, and she repeated the more successful motions until he gently guided her off. "Unless you want me to finish like this, I can think of somewhere better…"

Her feathers stood, fluffing her up, as she nodded and leaned back at his direction. He quickly found her vent with his hand and returned the favor: everything he'd learned the previous night, all the newfound familiarity with her once-strange anatomy, and every bit of passion he could pour into the press of his knuckles and curl of his fingers. Her insides were hot compared to his body, which only further enflamed his anticipation.

By the time he was too restless to keep teasing, she was in the middle of her second climax. It wasn't as spectacular an accomplishment as it would be with past lovers—the kobold, in particular, had made him really work for her pleasure. He still wondered how much of that was genuine difficulty and how much had been her mischievous streak working for her own amusement.

Ayla, though… Ayla finished easily and often, but the shaking and clenching was over in the span of a slow breath. It also didn't take her long to bounce back and push herself on him to continue their lovemaking.

With a quick wipe of his wet fingers on his shaft to help ease its insertion, he braced his knees to either side of her wide tail, lined himself up with the proper entrance inside her vent, and then it was his turn to push into her.

"Logan," she breathed. The wicked talons on her feet trembled in the air to either side of him. She lifted one wing so he could slip an arm between the primary feathers and her body, bracing himself while waiting out the spasms in her nearly molten-hot canal. There was a curve to it that, while not uncomfortable, made for interesting changes in pressure on his length. Trying to fight the odd ripples that pushed at his insertion was uncomfortable for her, so he dropped the still-wet hand between them to tease at her vent. The moment the down-and-out squeezes turned to a confused yet pleasured spasm that ran through her whole body, he sank in further, their bodies unsure how to accommodate each other until he managed to press his groin to hers, slowly circling his hips, seeking that contact that made her—

"Logan!" she cried, though her beak could barely form the sounds as she arched against him.

He wasn't sure how much of it was the simulation of her kind's 'cloacal kiss' and how much was the fulfillment of her attraction to humans… to him, now, he supposed. There was only one thing to do: keep going until they were both satisfied.

It wasn't difficult. Her inner grip, while alien and unable to decide if he should be pulled in or pushed out, was familiar enough in feel to give him pleasure. And what pleasure it was! Even the warmer-than-humans kobold hadn't been so hot around him. It was like a steaming cider on a chill day, melting away his inhibitions, his uncertainties—nothing of the future mattered when the edges of her wings mantled over his back and pulled him into her downy body.

She had such wonderfully soft feathers. He didn't want to leave her. He didn't accept her body's occasional reflexive push; instead, he rode out the spasms and then rubbed her to a new finish, and then the muscles sang a siren song, coaxing him deeper—not him, of course, but his seed. Each time she arrived at that shuddering completion, his own desire would flare higher, restraint melting bit by bit until he felt his balls tighten and the tension in his core grow unbearable…

"Ayla, I'm…"

"Yes," she hissed—in her own language, which he'd thankfully started picking up. If anything else was to follow, it was lost as another surge struck her, another round of subtle milking squeezes that finally pushed him over the edge.

His cry joined with hers as he pressed in as deep as he could, her feathers hot and impossibly soft for how amazing she felt. It was all he could do to bury his face in her chest ruff and make sure he wasn't going to collapse on the larger but lighter great eagle as the dam broke and his passion spilled into her. And spilled, and spilled… he might have wondered how much he had to give if he wasn't too deeply wrapped in the heat and passion of the moment, breeding—or at least pretending to breed—his mate.

His mate.

Finally it finished, and her doubtlessly aching inner grip finally succeeded in pushing himself out. They rolled over until she was partly atop him; he needed to cool his sweaty skin before he could handle being covered in feathers. It also meant that a lot of mess dribbled onto his leg, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that.

Just as with tomorrow, the clean-up was a problem for the future.

For the present, he pressed a kiss to the side of her beak and then wrapped his arms around her as they caught their breaths.

He didn't want to be anywhere else.

---

They stared at it for a long moment—him beside the 'nest' of blankets, her with one wing raised. They'd been doing that a lot for the past day—more so him than her, since she'd gone for two naps with a snack in between. He didn't blame her. The great eagles were large, many of them taller than the average human, and so everything else about them was proportionately larger as well.

That included their eggs.

They'd known it was coming for the last couple days. It wasn't even Ayla's first egg—except all of hers had been irregular and unfertilized since she'd never taken a male during mating season. It wasn't too unusual for her to lay after the season had passed… except, technically, this time she had taken a male.

Repeatedly. Deeply.

Neither of them were sure if what they were looking at was another in a long line of unviable detritus, or if something miraculous had happened since they'd started mating a week ago.

If other human-eagle couples existed, they were either far afield or keeping it as secret as they did. And of course, there was no way to determine if an egg was viable until it began showing signs of development. So there was no telling if they'd assumed wrong when determining they couldn't interbreed.

"I'm even more certain," Ayla murmured, shuffling until she was laying more comfortably on the sizable, speckle-shelled oval. "I'm going to roost it until we're sure, one way or another."

"You know I'm with you." Logan put a hand on her wing-shoulder and gently stroked some of the feathers back into place. "How, um. I know you said it's hard to tell when signs start appearing. But, roughly…?"

"Up to two weeks." She shifted again, and clicked her beak. "And we will need bright light for blood sign."

Logan wished he could spare the time to trek back to the city for more information—research, or even just talking with a chicken farmer would teach him more than he knew now. And yet, he was deadly certain about his statement: unless it was to go out and retrieve food or supplies, he wasn't going to leave her alone.

"I'm not sure if I should be scared or excited at the possibility," she murmured, shuffling around once more.

"I think there'd be something wrong with us if we weren't feeling both." He smiled, even as he put a list together in his head of what he'd need to bring her. "We'll just have to see what comes for tomorrow, and the day after that."