Chapter Text
It was getting late. It was hard to tell the difference between the day and night in this place, but after being here for so long, he could see the subtle differences. For one thing, the rounds that usually plagued them only occurred in the daytime, a small mercy for their tired bodies.
Another thing was the sky. During the day the darkness seemed to come from clouds that never ended, casting the world into a fog. At night though, that fog seemed to thicken. It became near impossible to see without some type of light to guide the way, causing most of the survivors to lock up in their cabins till dawn.
So, it would come as a surprise to hear a knock at his door.
Builderman was… working. Although the word “working” didn’t feel quite right. Papers were scattered about the meager desk he had been using. Half finished plans and ideas thrown away or abandoned littered the papers. Theories on how they all got there, what put them there, and how to get out. He had tried building a machine that could maybe, just maybe, send them back.
But the machine wouldn’t even start. He had even asked 007n7 for help using his c00lgui as a reference. Now, he could only sit with his head in his hands, waiting for the headache he’s had for the past hour to go away.
At the first knock he didn’t look up, too used to hearing noises that weren’t there. The second time he heard the knock he glanced up. He glared at the offending door as if it had insulted him.
He really wished the stupid desk was placed inside the bedroom instead of shoved into some tiny nook in the living room. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to hear strange sounds from the outside whenever he worked tirelessly through the night. He was about to just go to bed, convinced sleep deprivation had finally gotten to him when the knocks started back up again, incessantly.
This time the knocks seemed frantic, no longer was it a singular cryptic knock followed by a long stretch of silence. Now the knocks continued, gradually growing louder by the second. This was clearly not a tired man’s hallucination.
With a sudden vigor from that realization, he stood up. He made his way to the door quickly, worried that another survivor was hurt, or worse. A pit formed in his stomach knowing how he had just been about to ignore someone potentially in danger.
Unlocking the door took more time than he wanted, the stupid old lock constantly getting jammed at the night’s cold. On the other hand, the incessant knocking seemed to stop once the person realized he was there.
Opening the door, he was greeted with a very disheveled Shedletsky. Although, given the context of the outfit, perhaps Telamon was more appropriate. His clothes looked hastily thrown on, the belt was missing, and his hood was down. The outfit clearly hadn’t been cleaned in a while, wrinkles littered about with a few blood stains here and there. His hair wasn’t much better, although that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. What was odd though, was the look on Shedletsky’s face. He sported a nervous smile, eyes not quite meeting his. A barely noticeable flush covered his face, along with beads of sweat like he had run a marathon.
Looking a little past him, Builderman could see his wings, unhindered from their usual binds. They looked ruffled, tense with feathers clearly uncomfortable and out of place. He would’ve asked why they were unhidden, but Shedletsky cut him off before he could start.
“Think you could stop ogling my wings and lend a man a hand?” He grinned at Builderman, but it soon turned into a grimace. His wings twitched at every little movement of his. Even the wind was starting to get to him. His façade of nonchalance was fading quicker than he liked, having already been relatively desperate while banging on the door.
Builderman snapped out of his staring at the callout, his expression turning to tired annoyance with a hint of concern. With a huff, he moved aside, gesturing for the other man to head indoor.
“Yeah, yeah. Get in before ya let in all the cold air.” That was all the prompting Shedletsky needed before he hurried inside, beelining to the small couch that looked on to nothing but an empty fireplace. Despite the emptiness, a residue warmth filling the cabin, a stark contrast to the outside.
With his unexpected guest now safely making himself home, Builderman set to relocking the door. It took a couple of times pushing all his weight into the darn thing, but eventually the lock slid back into place.
Looking over, he saw his former employee sunken in on himself on the couch. His wings were closed around his form, nearly engulfing him, hiding him away from any prying eyes. Normally, an air of confidence bordering on arrogance followed the man, but right now he almost seemed small.
Taking a tentative step forward, Builderman came to stand behind the man. He tapped lightly on the couch, just to make a sound to alert him of his closeness. When his wings shifted to give him a better view, he took that as permission to continue.
Finally getting to take a good look at the wings in front of him, he noticed how unkept they were. Feathers stuck out at odd angles, some were broken, and others hadn’t fallen out despite new feathers already replacing them. A patch of feathers were matted together from what looked to be a previous injury. In between feathers there was a layer of mud and dirt, causing them to get stuck in places they shouldn’t be. Every movement pulled the feathers uncomfortably, giving them a strained look.
“I see now why ya needed me,” he sighed.
His hands gently traced along the tops of the wings, not sure where to begin. He would need to not only realign the feathers but also wash them as he went. It’d be difficult to do one without the other, so he needed a bucket and a washcloth.
With the reassurance that he would be right back, he went to look around the cabin. You’d think there would be a bucket somewhere considering how old these cabins were, but the only thing he could find was a large mixing bowl and an old cleaning cloth. They weren’t the best materials for the job, but it would do. Thankfully, the cabin had warm water he could use.
Returning to Shedletsky, he set the materials out. Of course, having him sit on the couch wouldn’t be the best idea, so he ended up sitting backwards on the desk chair to give Builderman better access.
Brushing his hands lightly over the wings, he glanced at Shedletsky. “Ya might wanna remove that robe if ya don’t wanna get it even more dirty.”
At first, Builderman thought he hadn’t heard him or that maybe he was ignoring him. But after a moment of hesitation, the man lowered his robes, revealing his backside. Scars and bandages adorned his back, some new, some old. The feathers at the base of his wings were probably the best well kept, considering they were hidden even more than the rest. Picking up the cloth, Builderman got to work.
Starting at the base of the wings, where they connected to the body, was easiest. If he remembered correctly, this part of the wing was called a scapular. It covers the base of the wing, along with the upper back. The feathers here weren’t for flight, so they appeared fluffier and almost like fur. Seems it makes them easier to mat too.
A layer of dried mud lumped the feathers together awkwardly. Luckily, none seemed broken or harmed. Gently, he raised the wet cloth to start wiping the mud away, making sure to follow the grain.
In the background he could hear Shedletsky suck in a breath at the touch of the cloth.
Next, he moved onto the lesser secondary coverts. In order to even fully see this section he had to pull the wings fully open, ignoring the way the other man shuddered. Normally, this area is partly covered by the scapulars and can be hard to spot when the wings are folded. These feathers overlap with the median secondary feathers, hiding the base of them. They were still slightly fluffy, made more so for smooth airflow and to protect the bases of the other sections. Since they’re relatively easy to access, they didn’t need too much maintenance. A few feathers had to be realigned, although, as mud washed off, some of the feathers fell back into place naturally.
Small sounds, almost impossible to hear, broke the silence of the room. Little chirps and chirrups that could be heard anytime he moved a feather back into place, sometimes raising in pitch when he rubbed the cloth a little too hard against the wings.
Moving slightly over, he took a look at the alula. The alula was a very small group of feathers that helped with takeoff, landing, and slow flight. Seeing the condition they were in; it was no wonder why Shedletsky had been avoiding going in the air for a while now. Two of the feathers were broken with blood. One of the two had clotted, but the other seemed to have been messed with and reopened. He chose not to bring it up now, instead filing it away for a later date. For now, he carefully cleaned the feathers, avoiding the wounds.
As Builderman brought his hand back to the bowl of water, the wings suddenly flapped a few times before settling once again. He didn’t want to pay much attention to it, but he couldn’t help but notice the small shivers and twitches whenever he had gone lightly over the feathers. Shedletsky was looking away from him, but he could spot a small blush covering the tips of his ears. He was probably just embarrassed to need help, considering how full he was of himself. That had to be it.
Focusing once more on the wings in front of him, he moved on to the tertials. Tertials are the innermost flight wings, although they are hard to see when in flight. They aren’t really remarkable in any way, although they seem to be hard to clean when on a human body. Dirt had gathered near the roots, which were hard to clean under all the other feathers protecting them. It didn’t help that anytime Builderman got close or so much as touched them Shedletsky would twitch away. He felt bad about it, thinking he was hurting the other man, but he was never told to stop. Although, the shuddering breath he heard when he was able to get the dirt off made him question if it was really pain that caused the others movement.
Finally, he was able to get to the section with the injury. Really it was two sections that were injured. It looks as if someone had stabbed through the secondaries and part of the greater secondary coverts. Checking them over, he was glad to see it hadn’t hurt any of the roots and seemed to mostly just disrupt the vanes. He’d have to give special attention to those once he removes all the dirt and mud.
By now, the water was dark with debris, one wing completely done, while the other was nearly there and Shedletsky felt like he was going to die. Not literally, of course, but he honestly thought he might combust into flames if Builderman doesn’t finish soon. His face felt like it was on fire, little chirps falling from his lips against his will whenever a particularly sensitive feather was moved.
Honestly, he hadn’t really been taking care of his wings. Constantly binding them probably didn’t do him any favors either. Hell, it’s probably why they were more sensitive than usual. He would curse at himself if he wasn’t convinced it would slip into an embarrassing noise. His hands gripped at the back of the stupid desk chair he was sat at, knuckles completely white from the force of staying still. At least it was almost over.
Oblivious to the inner turmoil of the man in front of him, Builderman continued on. The blood washed away, although it left a stain. None of the feathers needed to be plucked out, which was a relief.
With everything now cleaned, he started to correct the vanes of feathers that had split. It was a slow and delicate process, having to basically go one by one through the feathers. He started with the lowermost section of the wings, moving up and inward as he went.
Abruptly, the wings jerked away just as he was getting to the base of the bottom row. He paused in shock before finally taking in Shedletsky’s appearance. He had hunched in on himself at some point and was gripping the chair like it would run away. His body was trembling slightly while small shuddering breaths wracked his body.
He must be in so much pain.
Concern flooded through Builderman at the revelation. He had been trying to be gentle with his ministrations, but it seems it wasn’t enough. Kneeling down, he placed his hands onto his lower back, rubbing soothing circles into the skin while he waited for Shedletsky to relax.
“Buddy?”
None of this was going well. The hands, now placed on Shedletsky’s back, felt far too warm, far too… personal. If he focused a little harder, he could feel Builderman’s breath lightly fanning over the area he was rubbing.
It was maddening.
Every breath, touch, and brush was laced with an undercurrent of pleasure. Sure, having someone else preen his wings was usually nice, but it was usually like a massage not whatever this was.
The touch against his lower back felt more like a lover’s touch than an old friend’s/ex-boss. He had to force himself not to lean in and indulge, else Builderman might figure out what was really happening.
Covering his face did nothing to hide the furious blush that was making its way down his neck. He was Telamon for god’s sake! Not some hormonal teenager getting felt up for the first time. But even then, every touch felt electric. It’d been so long since anyone had put so much care and effort into taking care of him.
He had been so lost within his own thoughts that he hadn’t felt Builderman stop. It wasn’t until Builderman spoke that he felt the soothing circles he was rubbing into his skin. Gods, he needed this man to stop before he couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Are ya doin’ okay there, Shedletsky?” Concern bled through every word. Shedletsky would almost be grateful for the concern if he didn’t feel too hot for his own skin.
“Yeah. Yep. Doing great. You almost done?”
“Almost. Just needa to finish tidying up the feathers before I can oil em’ up.”
Shedletsky forgot about that part. But now that it was brought up, it was odd how he hadn’t felt any oil leaking down his back. There was probably some kind of blockage preventing it, lord knows he hadn’t been getting his proper vitamins for a while now. Maybe he could convince Builderman it wasn’t a thing he had to do anymore. Claim the glands closed up or something and it wasn’t necessary.
“That won’t be needed—”
“Nonsense. We gotta make sure yer’ wings are nice an’ protected.” Builderman had gone back to work fixing the barbs on Shedletsky’s feathers. Careful hands working diligently on the final row.
“T—the glands aren’t really working like they used to…” Shedletsky was slightly panicking now. His glands had always leaned a bit more on the sensitive side and if this was how he was reacting to his wings getting cleaned, he wouldn’t last a second of his glands getting fondled.
“All they need is a nice little massage, yeah? Open ya’ right up.” Shedletsky barely got a moment’s notice before thumbs were gently massaging around his glands. A sharp gasp tore through his throat, his hand clamping over his mouth before any sounds could get out. His wings stretched out, attempting to arch into the touch before being forced to relax.
“That’s it. Just like that.”
Oh. That wasn’t fair. That distracted muttering while he focused intently on something. It does things to him. His hips gave an aborted little thrust forward, he tried to play it off as simply adjusting in his seat.
But he wasn’t stopping. He couldn’t help but squirm, trying to keep his back completely still while being unable to stop his lower half from moving. All his focus zeroed in on the sensation of fingers softly prodding into his glands.
“There we go, nice an’ easy.”
He was panting now. Outright panting. It was like every touch sucked the breath away from his lungs, leaving him grasping for any air he could get. He was grinding his hips in quick, little circles against the chair. He needed to stop this before he broke.
“Builderman – fuck, hold on—!” Shedletsky tried to reach behind him to grab onto Builderman’s arm, to stop him, but it was too late. Right then his glands decided to finally give in, Builderman’s thumbs dipping just slightly in and it was over. Shedletsky stood no chance.
Small curses tore through him, quickly rising in pitch. His back shot into an arch, wings sprawling open. Little whimpers and chirps rang through the room, filling the heated air. His hips jerked uncontrollably back and forth, prolonging the pleasure. He hardly noticed the iron grip he had on Builderman’s wrist.
As he came down from his high, reality set back in. Builderman behind him, his wrist still tightly held in his hand. In an instant, Shedletsky pulled away as if he were burned. Red hot shame colored his face to the tips of his ears. Despite that, his glands still leaked, not quite satisfied with the sudden stop.
“Did… you just…?”
“Not. Another word.”