light as a feather; stiff as a board
part two
jaguar!simon x crow!oc
cw) goofy teenage simon, brief mention of wanking, author is bad at slow burn……. not proofread
Wren had gotten used to the expansive campus. There always seemed to be a building for everything. Broken tooth? Don’t worry, there’s a dental wing in the med-bay. Broken heart? On-sight psychiatrist down the hall from the water fountains. This place was ready for anything — but it was a government building, so who was surprised?
It was a campus in the middle of London, though, so it seemed as dreary as the damn rest of London. Foggy mornings and humid afternoons. Wren was glad she’d always dressed light, the mix of humidity and sunshine sticking to her skin like honey.
And that guy from the rec-room? She saw him everywhere. With friends he seemed to open a bit more, studying with them in the library and teasing them with paper balls — and daring them to try weird food combos in the mess hall, but even with all the schedule overlaps he had with Wren, he just wouldn’t… talk to her. It was just terse nods and sidelong glances.
But what Wren had no clue about was that Simon was trying his hardest to avoid her. Sitting on opposites sides of the mess hall, trying to switch his plans around, etcetera. But he saw her, no, he smelt her everywhere. All traces of her fucking lingered.
And Simon tried to act uninterested. From that first moment they met on the couch. Tried to act like he was sleeping and not casting glances her way, observing supple skin and dotted freckles. But he smelt her even then, too.
Vanilla and lavender some days, and flowers other days. No matter what perfume, body wash, shampoo — Hell, even toothpaste — she used, he would always smell her. And he tried his damndest to not linger around where he knew she’d been. He felt strange, like he was breaching some kind of trust — trust that had not even been set yet.
But that all came to a halt the second month into their training.
Wren had been doing great, adapting quickly and discovering new abilities she didn’t even know she had.
Her eyes began adjusting to nighttime better, and her senses heightened. Her wings were larger, she supposed, stronger somehow. All shit that she never knew before. And Simon saw it.
He noticed her, breaking from her shell and growing. She wasn’t that timid teenager who sat on the opposite side of the couch from him anymore, she was growing and learning. And he envied those who got to be by her side everyday. Those who played card games with her and got to feel her feathers when they wrapped an arm around her for a photo.
So, he approached her. In the worst way possible, perhaps. Despite Simon’s natural (quite literally killer) instincts on the field and onslaught of abilities… he was socially daft.
Wren was in the rec room that evening, dressed in comfy clothes and cozied up with some romance book that probably was not regulation. Her wings lazily spread out comfortably behind her. Simon loomed over her, just blinking down at her at first.
She was relaxed, he knew that. That was good. People were beat perceptive when relaxed. She looked up at him through dorky lenses — still furious that she needed glasses for reading. Heightened senses and yet, she couldn’t read text? Wow.
“Can I help you?” She asked, and Simon would’ve taken this as an insult if it were anyone else. Would’ve made it seem like he was being talked down to, but this was Wren. Wren was always kind and charming. She set her book aside, giving Simon her undivided attention. He felt nervous now.
“I want to eat you.” He said, leaving out some crucial details. Wren’s face contorted, furrowed brows and her lips turned inwards. She didn’t look mad. Just confused. Wait, what did he say?
“Straightforward. I like it.” Wren laughed softly, surprising herself just a bit. What the Hell happened to her? Two months ago she could barely approach anyone without her wings flapping wildly with anxiety. Now, she’s just been threatened (maybe?) and she’s pretty unfazed.
“No. Eat out.” He corrected, making everything worse. Wren made a strangled sort of noise — laughing? — oh! She thought he was funny. Wait, no, was she laughing at him?
“What are you asking me for?” Wren said after a moment of amused confusion. Simon stared down at her.
“Dinner.”
“Yes, what kind?”
“We can get takeaway.”
“So you don’t want to eat me out?” She clarified.
“No.” Simon said slowly, unsure. After a moment of deliberation, he decided it was a firm no. As far as his sexual expertise went, well… there was none. He was too bulky, too grabby, too toothy to have ever been intimate before. He was sure Wren could tell.
Actually, he was sure now that Wren knew everything about him. That’s why she was smiling at him like that. She felt bad, he was sure. She knew about his dad, his mom, and his brother. She knew. He couldn’t hide. She saw it all, using soft talons to peel away layers of skin and read trauma straight from bone. Oh, shit, is he still standing here?
“Do you want to sit with me?” She offered, lifting her blanket like an olive branch. Simon stilled. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded and sat. He caught her wing under his hip as he sat and she yelped. Simon nearly dropped to his to beg for forgiveness before —
“Sorry, I should’ve moved my wing.” She rolled her eyes at herself. Simon shook his head and helped her adjust her wing to a comfortable position. He slung his arm over the back of the couch, leaning over to take a peek at her book. She slapped it shut, shaking her head. “No! You can’t read this.”
Simon raised a curious eyebrow, more comfortable as minutes passed. “‘N why not?”
“It’s a little… risqué. This part, anyway.” She explained, and Simon snorted. He took the book anyway, and Wren watched raptly as he read the lines.
“Jesus, what is this?” That guy touched her what? He stuck his fingers where?! Is he even allowed to be reading this? He felt like his mom would pop over his shoulder any moment and scold him. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. So he scoffed softly and shook his head, a lazily grin helping his eyes squint — because maybe she couldn’t see the pain behind them if he was squinting.
“I told you!” She said, snatching the book back. Simon laughed lowly, a rumbling noise reminiscent of a jaguar’s growl.
“Nasty, nasty girl,” Simon said absentmindedly, looking at his phone — not noticing the side eye from the Wren at his words. He was too busy focusing on the ‘no new notifications’ screen to keep himself from sniffing her fucking neck. Her scent straight from the source. She smelt like the little bird she was. She smelt like prey. No. Simon wouldn’t let himself go there.
The two sat in the quiet room for the rest of the evening, basking in each other’s presence and just chatting randomly. Wren grew a liking to this boy, learning his name as Simon.
But of course Simon knew her. He knew her name, her smell, her smile. And all of it from a distance, like a fucking weirdo. From catching glances of her — feeling like he’s intruding on her own little private world. It was about 2200 before either of them moved from their little bubble.
“Will you be in the mess hall for breakfast tomorrow?” Wren asked Simon as she gathered her things, her fluffy blanket slung in the crook of her arm and her book snugged under her armpit. Simon nodded, standing and looming over her again.
He thanked any listening God for his height because the way Wren’s face looked as she looked up at him, eyes peaking through her eyelashes. Fuck. She had an iron grip on him and she wasn’t even reaching out yet. Yet. Yet is a good thought.
“I eat.” He nodded, like a soldier following an order. Wren giggled softly and nodded back.
“Good to know. See you tomorrow, Simon.”
Simon went home and shamefully wanked that night.
