As harpies, you had a lot of extra self care steps. For example, preening. Your feathers often get misaligned or loose. Your wings were huge and you can’t reach everywhere, so you needed help.

Gaz always offered to help. You both knew how intimate it was to preen another person’s wings, but you both liked it. You’re sitting on Gaz’s lap, your face buried into his shoulder. The way he pulls out the loose feathers feels sinfully good. You lay there, panting into his shoulder, full of pleasure.