This has been flying around my head for a while now (no pun intended! haha)

Please don't read if you don't like slash (or if you don't know what that is)

This is Figgy (Fang x Iggy from Maximum Ride) I don't own them.

000

Some species of birds mate in the sky. They fly up together as high as they can, and then mate as they plummet back down.

I didn't learn that on T.V. or anything; no one taught me that. But I have just enough hybrid DNA in me that those kinds of avian drives appeal to me as well.

Well, to Iggy and I at least. The kids are too young to think about things like that, and Max, well, most of the time she seems to be above stuff like hormones with all the things she has going on in her life.

So it's almost natural when Iggy and I take to the sky, climbing upwards together in a tight column to gain altitude quickly. We are a tangle of arms and hands and wings touching and moving and stroking the air in powerful thrusts that pull us higher and higher. Flying is just practiced movements to us, like remembering to keep your feet moving when you walk, and at this point we don't have to think about keeping our wings flapping as we concentrate on hands and mouths everywhere. I hardly even notice the trail of clothes falling back down to earth behind us.

Iggy is doing the work of both his hands and his eyes with just the grasping, fluttering movements of his fingers over my skin, and my wing strokes start to become irregular like my breathing. I press my mouth over his to stifle a moan as he finishes exploring me.

By now we're flapping so irregularly and sporadically that we're not gaining any more altitude, just sort of hovering at the peak. I curled into him with a moan that seemed to come out of him as well, and we spun till we were hanging upside down from the force of my move. I was rocking into him and beneath the fireworks exploding in our brains, we were subconsciously trying to right ourselves in space because trying to stay aloft while upside down doesn't work very well.

He cried out and I didn't try to quiet my own sounds either, remembering that, because of his lack of sight, Iggy liked to listen to me. He also liked it when I talked. I don't really know what I said; I think it was something along the lines of "…fuck you out of the sky," but he was thrashing and calling my name and neither of us were thinking of flapping our wings anymore.

Everything was heightened by the rush of freefalling, and, even though I was wonderfully spent, clinging to his chest, my system flooded again with adrenaline as the wind whipped my face and cooled my heated skin.

As I concentrated on breathing again I also tried to remember to think about when we would need to snap out our wings again to land. I don't know how high we went, but falling took way less time; too little time for me: I wasn't quite ready for this feeling to end so soon. I loosely stretched out my wings to parachute and slow our descent. Feeling my movements, Iggy did the same, but all too soon I tapped the back of his hand twice and we had to stroke powerfully to swoop in a low arc towards the ground.

We touched down running and tumbled into a heap on the grass. He found my hand and pulled himself against me and we just lay there. Soon we would have to go find our clothes and fly back, but I didn't have to think about that just yet.

000

End.