Isellta rolled onto his back. His wings thumped the mattress as he tried to flap them in his sleep.
His heart raced.
He moaned soft, small sounds.
His breathing quickened.
He threw his head back and cried out.
His sounds grew more urgent, more desperate.
He stretched his arms along his head.
His wings thumped the mattress harder.
He flared out his fingers.
His breathing became faster, more hectic, more erratic.
“OH! Oh. Ohhh….”
His body relaxed. His breathing gradually returned to normal.
His wings settled down. “Ro’in…Robin.” He lowered his hands and curled them along the sides of his head. “Ohhh, my beautiful Robin.” A flirtatious smile played on his lips.
Something struck his shoulder, startling him. It struck him again and again.
His eyebrows quilted up. “Robin?” he asked in a quavery voice.
One more hit and then…..nothing.
“Robin? Are you there?”
A door opened and slammed shut.
Isellta opened his eyes and winced. His shoulder hurt like a bad bruise. His groin muscles ached.
His legs were splayed in an uncomfortable position.
“ngh.” He reached over and rubbed his shoulder.
Isellta froze as he touched bare skin instead of the familiar material of his shirt. He frantically felt his chest, his waist, his hips, his thighs.
Not a single thread of clothes.
The blood drained from his face. He could feel it just drain away.
Isellta trembled as he reached down to touch himself. It wasn’t erect, but it was unreasonably wet. He quickly pulled his hand away.
The moisture was on his skin.
He could feel it on his skin.
Isellta sat up and glanced around, desperate for something to clean his hand off. There was nothing in sight.
He shuffled over to the edge of the bed. The aching in his groin muscles flared from the movement, but Isellta bit down on his lower lip and made it all the way to the edge. He carefully set his feet on the floor and looked towards the bathroom.
The bathroom door seemed to be five years away from the bed. There was no one around to help him. No Jay, Robin, Raven, Maelin, Ambrose, Dave, or Hank.
Not even Preyuna.
If Isellta was going to reach the bathroom, he’d have to do it himself.
Isellta hugged himself, carefully avoiding physical contact with his unclean hand, and closed his eyes. He pictured the distance between himself and the bathroom as a series of connected arches. He tried to compress those arches, but they kept popping out of order and bending out of shape. No matter how hard he tried, they refused to stay in alignment.
Isellta opened his eyes. He was still on the bed and the bathroom door was still five years away.
He looked down at his bare legs, at his bare feet.
I can do this.
Isellta unfolded his arms and struggled to push himself up on his feet. His shoulder pain surged. His legs and knees wobbled. He flared out his wings and flapped them to catch his balance as he finally stood.
The bathroom was so far away. It was no longer five years away. It was five centuries away. He’d never reach it.
But Isellta took an uncertain, shuffled step forward all the while flapping his wings to keep his balance.
He managed to not fall.
So, he kept going.
By the time Isellta made it to the half-way point, he just wanted to drop on the floor and refuse to move. His shoulder hurt. His leg muscles hurt. His legs were wobbly. He cast a plaintive look at the bedroom door, just in case.
But no one knocked.
No one entered.
He was still on his own.