While Rocky gets ready, Soren checks his phone and quickly goes through a few messages to see if Lydia had texted him at any point in the last few weeks. Even if they had agreed to just be friends after he left school, her sudden appearance was completely unexpected. 

"Sorry, Lyd. Doing some chores, not going to be able to talk..." Soren hits send after typing out a quick message to Lydia, not expecting her to answer as fast as she does until her message pops up a few seconds later. 

"Are you fucking standing me up? After all we've been through? If that's the case, babe, I will ruin you. I promise you that."

A pillow comes flying across the room and smacks Soren before he can respond, knocking his phone out of his hands. It flies across the floor and skids to a stop in front of a wooden chair, one sculpted leg, and a black boot. Dumbfounded, Soren follows the leg up towards a stocking-clad thigh and a mostly naked Rocky, his hips cocked seductively. 

"What are you doing?" Soren asks him, his eyes opening wide.

"You have to understand the way I am, mein Herr!" Rocky sings sensuously and tilts back into the chair, his arms draping over his head dramatically, "A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb, mein Herr!"

"Where the hell did you get those boots and stockings?" Soren questions.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rocky smirks, tilting his head to one side before spinning around and shaking his hips back and forth.

Being doused in flames couldn't have been more effective, forcing Soren to tuck his hand between his legs to hide his boner when Rocky starts dancing for him, moving his body in ways that shouldn't have been possible. He rolls his hips, squats down, and shakes his ass. And just when Soren starts to think he can't take it anymore, the other boy drags the chair over to the bed.

"You never turn the vinegar to jam, mein Herr!" Rocky purrs and drapes himself over the chair so that he's facing Soren upside down. "So I do what I do when I'm through! And I'm through!" He extends his arm, clutching a box in his fingers, then drops it. "Toodle-oo!"

"Jesus! Rocky--!" Soren catches the box of rubbers that fall out of Rocky's outstretched hand and fumbles with it, nearly throwing the thing across the room in the process. 

"Prepare yourself, my love," Rocky tells him from where he dangles. "I don't dance like Liza Minnelli for just anybody. That, and my spine's about to break in half in this position."

"Well, since you ask so nicely..." Soren chuckles, but opens the box and pulls out a condom while Rocky moves the chair aside and climbs into bed with him, the mattress squeaking under his weight. They share another laugh when Rocky unzips Soren's worn jeans, and his hardness practically leaps forward in excitement, making a tent in his boxers.

"Down boy," Rocky purrs, and Soren leans forward and captures his lips in response, a needy little moan escaping Rocky before they tumble into bed to explore each other. 

Weeks had passed since Soren had touched Rocky, let alone slept with him. In the beginning, they hadn't done much aside from teasing, flirting, and courting each other because that's what owls did. But then his dreams started to change, and he would wake up with images of Rocky pinned to the mattress, fiery hair splayed out around the white sheets, as he cried out Soren's name, pleasure making his voice desperate. 

"Soren!"

"Oh God, Soren!"

Rocky touches Soren's sun-tanned chest, where a silver necklace with an owl rested just above his sternum, along with a Nirvana in utero charm on a gold chain. "My love," Rocky whispers, "I've waited for this for a long time."

"C'mere then," Soren replies with a small grin.

Rocky eagerly obliges. His lips feel like fire on Soren's skin, and his tongue is a delightful surprise when it darts out to taste him, flicking against his Adam's apple. As this is going on, his hands work sneakily down below, freeing Soren's erection from the confines of his underwear. 

"How about I recite you some poetry now?" Rocky whispers, and his hand curls around Soren's shaft, the warmth of his fingers making him hiss in pleasure and grasp the pillows over his head. "I want to fill your mouth with my name. I want to eat you whole," Rocky says, his eyes blazing as he peers down at him. "Fuck me hard," he tells him, "Right now, Soren."

Soren grabs Rocky and throws him down onto the mattress, his hand bracing in the middle of his freckled back. Immediatley, a large pair of wings rise in response to his touch, banging into the lamp on the nightstand, knocking it down with a crash. "Oh, fuck!" Rocky wails, "Take me, you gorgeous fucking bastard!"

"Soren?" A voice calls from the hallway, "Another one of your weird little pets is banging on our front door. Rowan's hitting on her right now as we speak. What should I do?"

"No! Wait--!" Soren screams when the door swings open, and his little brother, Quince, stands there and stares at him as he sits on top of Rocky, both of them unclothed in a tangle of sheets. 

Oh, no.