"No." It was an easy answer to give, as easy as letting him shift and curl his wing around one of hers against the rain. Feathers slid against feathers, static popping and crackling with the gesture and the sensation was warm and curling and made her shudder. Close but not quite close enough, and she took but one moment to consider. How much of this was a shift and how much of this was them.

Just one moment, before she murmured 'fuck it' to herself and turned to press her lips against his. It wasn't chaste, it wasn't entirely gentle, and it wasn't tender. They needed neither.