There exists a state of mind when in the process of waking where one is neither truly awake or asleep. The twilight of consciousness where one is ever so slowly regaining control of one’s faculties. The heart rate quickens, and the lungs begin to pull heavy drags of air into your chest. The brain begins to switch on various stimuli that were muted for the sake of rest.

An awful, throbbing, all encompassing pain is the first thing your waking brain registers. A slow involuntary groan escapes you. Your head is pounding and you feel like you got hit by a truck. You work your jaw back and forth. Your lip feels cut and you can only assume the crusty feeling on your chin is dried blood.

You run your tongue over your teeth as you verify that they’re all still there. Your tongue feels fuzzy. You’ve had hangovers before… probably too many. But this was different. It actually felt like you got your ass beat into the ground.

Your mind fruitlessly tries to rationalize your condition. What the hell happened? You open an eye and immediately regret it. Its bright. Bright and white. Too white and too bright. It hurts and you don’t like it. You crunch your eyes back shut only to realize that your head still feels like splitting in two. You squint an eye open and see the endless field of white.

Feathers.

Those are feathers.

You try and rationalize this for several moments as the rest of your body wakes up. You pull back and realize the feathers are attached to something. You try to pull back further to investigate but you're quickly racked with sharp pain as several talons dig into the bare skin on your back. Your torso is pulled back into the warm feathers of the creature in your bed. Through your one good eye you see a huge chestnut brown wing descend over you.

Its warm.

Very warm. It feels nice. You try and free up a hand. Its numb as shit and clumsy. You accidentally slap yourself in the face attempting to rub your eyes. With some reluctance you pull the wing down enough to get a eyeful of the room.

It’s not yours.

That much is obvious.

This isn’t even your house.

You blink several times. You’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion you might not be in Kansas anymore…

In the metaphorical sense of the phrase. You've never been to Kansas because... why would you? There's nothing there. Not that you know of at least. You assume Judy Garland is there, probably some tumbleweeds, but that's it.

You look out the window and squint at the bright sun shining through. No buildings, but there's some light snow on the sill.

No clue.

What the fuck.

You mentally take stock of your situation. You are hungover as fuck, beat to shit, and in someone else’s home. You shift around before noticing something else.

Also you’re naked.

This is less than ideal.

You shift uncomfortably feeling the cover cling to you in a very unpleasant way.

Why the fuck am I sticky?

The warm feathery creature cuddling you lets loose a long purring/snorey sound.

Also that.

What the serious fuck.

You wiggle out of the embrace and sit up taking proper stock of your surroundings. You confirm for the third time that this is not your house.

Your ass-cheek hits something cold and hard. You lean over and pull an empty bottle of whiskey from the bed. That explains the headache but you usually don’t black out like this. You toss the bottle onto the floor where it lands on the carpet next to several other empty bottles of various kinds.

It’s all coming together now.

Fuck how much did you drink last night?

You swivel around to see your bed-mate.

You ponder the scene for longer than should have been necessary.

A griffon….

Like a wave it all comes crashing back.

Gilda

Bar fight

Alley fight

Cops

Hospital

Apartment

Angry sex

At last we reach the center of the shrubbery maze. You grin to yourself despite the pain. That girl was a fucking firecracker. That also explains where your clothes went. Your eyes travel across her sleeping form. You reach over and run a hand across her chest and through the soft luxurious brown fur until you reach the curve of her hips.

Her tail twitched involuntarily and your grin widens.

You pull your eyes away with some hesitation. Nature calls. Your feet hit the cool carpet. The air in the apartment is cold, probably because it’s winter. As evidenced by the small amount of snow on the windowsill.

You muscle through it and make to to the small connected bathroom. You take one last look at the prone form of the Griffon girl... Griffoness? Griffonette?

Gilda

She’s pretty curvy for a quadruped. You realize in passing you just had your interspecies cherry popped. Nice. #OneSmallStepForMan

You catch yourself staring. That’s probably a weird thing to do to a sleeping girl. Although considering some of the shit she did last night ‘staring’ doesn’t seem taboo. You know… comparatively speaking.

You close the bathroom door and waddle over to the mirror.

You look rough.

Your upper arm is bandaged and bloody. There’s a hospital bracelet still on your wrist. You should really check on your stitches and see if they tore out during the festivities.

You got a half respectable shiner on your left eye. A split lip. Whether that from the fight or a love nip from your dancing partner who knew. There appears to be a bite mark on your shoulder and…

You twist in front of the mirror

Sure enough. Your back is covered in small scratches.

You take a deep breath and roll your shoulders.

Could be worse.

You make your way over to the toilet and you sit down like a girl because you’re smart and you remember what happens when you try to pee the morning after sex.

Sufficiently relieved you make your way back to the sink and let the water run over your hands before splashing some on your face. You scrub off the dried blood from your lip and knuckles before drying off looking...somewhat better than you did when you came in.

You open the door to the bedroom and reconvene you creeping on the sleeping girl. Her wing hangs uselessly over the spot you once occupied. You feel a twinge of guilt in your heart for not being under it.

Wait, what? Guilt?!

“No I fucking do not.” You think to yourself.

You’re not getting attached to her.

You just met her. You’re going to get your pants and sneak the fuck out before she wakes up.

Because you’re a fucking rolling stone, baby. And your ass gathers no moss and offers no apologies. Lone wolf. A heartbreak-

“Oh shit. I’m back in the bed.” You realize internally as you look around and see you’ve gingerly slipped back under the covers while you were monologuing.

Gilda’s wing twitches as it descends over you.

“I will be leaving here very shortly.” You remind yourself as you reach a hand around her waist and pull her closer to you. You bury your head back into the downy feathers of her chest and neck.

With your head against her chest you can feel her purring. It’s a nice sound. Shame you’ll be walking out that door never to hear it again. She must be more awake than you think as you feel her snake her talon the back of your head where it settles holding you in place against her chest. Her talons were gently combing through your hair sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“I certainly have no interest in this. Rolling stone and such…”

You reach your free hand up under the pillows where it quickly finds Gilda’s unoccupied claw.

“Definitely not crushing super hard…” You rationalize as you begin to drift back to sleep. You interlace your fingers with Gilda’s claws. She hums happily and returns the affection.

The last thing you feel is her wing tightening over you.

“This whole intimacy thing is for the birds…”

Author's Note

Forgot about this.
Yesterday was back bi's and core superset so I woke up feeling like I got jumped.
Reminded me of this.