Sometimes she swears she can fly. She's a dove with white feathers, soaring above the heart shaped moon. Because she has been given her wings.
The first time her lips were bleeding from the harshness of the kisses, and her wrists were bruised from the strong grip on them. But it was a good pain, and when fingers teasingly swept under her dress and worked themselves inside the (white) briefs she was wearing, she ground herself harder into the hands crushing her arms. And when they slipped inside of her she moaned like a whore. After she couldn't contain the pleasure any longer she whited out. For the first time, she flew.
The second time she was allowed control of her hands. As she was undressed, her white dress sliding silently to the ground and her underwear being teased off her legs, she fisted small hands into a black robe. On her sketching stool she was sat, and gloved hands spread open her thighs. She gripped the robe harder as a probing tongue was shoved inside her, first tiny catlike licks and then deep thrusts. In and out harder and harder until she writhed with a wordless cry and was driven over the edge.
She flew out of the window, this time, circling under the stars for a few minutes before being pulled back to herself. As she came back to the last traces of a portal fading away, she didn't notice that her feathers were light grey instead of white.
The third time she was allowed to play as well. She unbuttoned the black coat eagerly, noting that nothing was worn underneath. Still in gloves and thigh-high boots her companion lay on the bed, legs spread wide, hands touching their body tantalisingly. Gripping the toy she had been presented with she worked it inside of them, savouring their gasps as each rubber bump stroked their spot. The toy was long enough that she straddled it as well, groaning as they began an alternate rhythm of pushing and pulling.
She explored the castle for a while, her feathers a dirtier shade of grey.
After every time her plumage dulls and darkens and she begins to feel dirty. She confesses this to her companion as they enjoy the afterglow together. Wicked blue eyes stare up at her and those colourless lips mouth "Good. I always wanted a flying companion"
And from then on Larxene flies with her, a sparrow hawk just as dirty as she is.