Twelve Days of Monstermas: Day Ten (non binary avian x reader - nsfw) (Patreon)

 Gharadyr is a non binary, male-presenting avian, based on a bearded vulture, or lammergeier. I hope you enjoy their story, and I’m sorry it’s a bit late today. I had imagined it was a female reader, but I only realised once I got to the end that I never mentioned any anatomy for the reader... so technically I think it counts as gender neutral reader... *shrugs* I really enjoyed this one, and I'm super keen to introduce a new character to you! 

The seal on the scroll was unmistakably from the royal household, which was puzzling enough. The fact that it had been hand delivered by an avian messenger - a light-boned creature with the smoky grey feathers and features of a swift - was equally surprising. You had thought they were only used for the most urgent of messages. What on earth a member of the royal household could want so urgently with you was a mystery. 

Cracking the wax seal open, you unrolled the message, and began to read. Few folks in your mountainside village could read, but you were slowly changing that by teaching the children their letters in the mornings. Usually it was after they’d done their chores, such as tending to the flocks of goats which roamed the slopes around the houses, and the wool from which formed the majority of the village’s income. It was a harmonious community, formed largely of satyr goat herders, though there was Sorrel, a werewolf who was in charge of protecting the flock from predators and keeping any mountain wolves at bay. A small community of dwarves lived nearby, one of their upper exits emerging near your village from the tunnels that ran in a labyrinthine maze under the mountains, and a small group of fae lived among the aspens and cottonwoods down in the valley, largely keeping to themselves. A herd of centaurs roamed the lush meadows, and the woods were full of cervitaurs. Honestly, it was heaven after your long apprenticeship in the smog of the city.

You made fine jewellery with the silver, gold, and precious gems which you then traded on with the goblin merchants caravans who made their way through the valley, winding their way through the mountain range, down towards the river and the capital by the sea. The dwarves traded for the soft sheep’s and goats’ wool, and a few of their craftsmen often stopped by to admire your handiwork, and even exchange ideas on techniques. Some of your best friends hailed from under the mountain. 

Your work was well known in the local area, and you were always being asked to make special pieces for various occasions, and even the fae had asked you to make a special vine-adorned tiara for the wedding of one of their sons to the youngest son of some duke or other. Even so, you had no idea why you’d be receiving a missive from the royal family, addressed to you by name.

Allow me to introduce myself, the letter began, written in a formal, exquisite hand. My name is Roäl, and I am the second son of King Aithlin, and Prince of the Kingdom of Luthedale. I am writing to you because last month I attended a ball and was speaking with the Lady Trevelyan, who was wearing the most beautiful necklace. She told me that it was made by you, and, having discovered how to reach you from a local dwarven diamond trader by the name of Gethin, I would be interested in speaking to you about a special commission. Since I am unable to leave the palace, I would be very grateful, and would take it as an immense personal favour, if you would attend me in the palace at your earliest convenience. Your every need will be provided for while you are here, and, should you wish it, a workshop will be placed at your disposal, though I am advised that you might prefer to use your own. 

Please forgive my assumption that you will accept this invitation, but I adored the style and workmanship of the piece I saw, and know that you are the prefect person to create the gift that I have in mind. 

Your humble servant, 

Prince Roäl

The words swam before your eyes as you stared at the letter. A royal commission! This was incredible, and there was not a chance that you would toss such an opportunity to the gutter, so you packed up your backpack, donned your hiking clothes, and set off through the mountains, taking the well-trodden trail through the canyon towards the capital. 

It would be a long walk, but you were used to the harshness of mountain life, and your fitness was pretty good. You passed Fennik, a young satyr on the cusp of adulthood, guarding his flock and looking very much the stereotype, sitting on a boulder overlooking his sheep, with a flute in his hand and a sheepdog at his heels. He waved at you, pausing his song, and you grinned back but didn’t stop to talk. 

The days wore on, and each night you set down your sheepskin bedroll in sheltered caves along the winding road that passed through the gorge. The nights were cold, and though the fleece lining of your sleeping bag was warm, you couldn’t help fantasising about the warmth of a hearth and the softness of a real bed. 

There were very rarely bandits and raiders in these parts, so you had little to fear, but by the third night, you were certain you were being followed. It began with unseen eyes and a prickling on the back of your neck, and soon shifted into fleeting shadows at the corners of your eye, the slight skittering of falling grit down the rock face, and finally, the soft whisper of wind beneath feathers. It was an avian that was tracking you then. 

Halfway through your fourth day, you reached the end of the canyon, just at the point where it flared out and joined a steep-sided valley lined with looming, limestone cliffs. Twisted trees clung to the jagged slopes, and the peaks seemed to touch the sky, brushing their heads against the soft clouds which scudded by overhead. It would have been beautiful if you weren’t so concerned about whatever was following you. Some avians, particularly in these parts, could be huge, built like golden eagles, standing at well over six feet tall, with muscular wings and deadly talons eight inches long. 

You gripped the iron-shod walking staff with white-knuckled fingers and set your feet slightly further apart than normal, and turned to face the seemingly empty canyon behind you. “Alright!” you yelled, hearing your voice bouncing back at you a hundred times off every facet of the rocks. “Show yourself. I’ve had enough of this shit.”

For a while your only reply was the wind whistling between desolate stones, and when you got no more response than that, you let out a growl of frustration and stomped towards the edge of the canyon, uttering a string of curses and hoping to find your way down the rather precarious river gully and into the valley below. 

“Wait!” a voice called, and you spun at the note of panic in their tone. “Please, wait!”

Gazing around, you searched for the source of the shout until a monstrous shadow swept along the ground towards you, and you looked up to see an avian with a colossal wingspan, easily ten foot across, soaring down to join you on the ground. Their colouring was stunning, with a creamy face blending into flame-bright, orange plumage atop their head, a dusty brown collar, chest, and legs, and deep, basalt grey and rich warm brown wings and back. Their eyes, set within soot-black feathers which ran down towards their incredibly sharp, hooked beak like runnels of ink, were a pearly grey, ringed with a startlingly scarlet halo. They were as beautiful as they were impressive, and you just stood there, stunned and unable to move for a moment.

Upon landing, they shuffled their taloned feet nervously and fluffed their impressive wings. “Hi,” they practically chirped. “Sorry to startle you.”

Their almost painful awkwardness instantly broke the spell, and you blinked. “Is it you that’s been following me for the past day or so?” you demanded, your grip on the walking staff never loosening. 

Again, they fluffed their feathers and swallowed shyly, cocking their head this way and that. “Yeah,” they croaked. Their voice was a hoarse croak, but there was still something warm and friendly to it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. It’s just that there’s a band of thugs down in the valley who’ve been raiding merchants in the past week or so, and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said, taking a step backwards, followed by a second, and then finally a third into empty air. 

With a sudden scream that echoed off the mountains, you toppled backwards and you just had time to register the look of stricken horror on the lammergeier’s face as it launched itself into the air in a flailing of wings, before you tumbled back through empty space, arms windmilling. 

The lammergeier’s body loomed over you, wings spread almost impossibly wide, and as the ground rushed up beneath you, their colossal talons hooked around the straps of your backpack and you were carried aloft, blinking in the downdraft of their wings as they beat furiously to get the two of you airborne. In fact, these avians had such powerful muscles in their shoulders and backs that you needn’t have feared, and even with your laden backpack, the lammergeier pulled you easily into the sky and banked to the right, heading for what looked like a dwelling in the mountainside.

Fear coursed through you until you thought your heart would burst as you dangled from the claws of the creature, and you clutched uselessly, first at the straps of your backpack, and then at the feathered ankles of the lammergeier themselves, until they yipped in discomfort, and called down to you, “Hold still; I’ve got you. Please…”

You tried, but the terror was threatening to overwhelm you as the valley spread out below and the trees suddenly seemed like little more than a carpet along the valley floor. 

And then there was terra firma beneath your boots, and you staggered as they let go of you and alighted in a rush of wind and wings on the rocky ledge beside you rather more elegantly than you had managed. 

“Alright?” they asked, and you nodded shakily. 

“Yeah, but I can’t help feeling like I’ll need a hand down from here,” you said, peering tentatively off the edge and fighting a wave of nausea. “Fuck, that’s high,” you groaned and turned away. 

They stepped closer and stretched out a wing, curtaining off the dizzying view for a moment while you got your equilibrium back. “Not got a head for heights then?” they asked with a twinkle in their beady eye. 

“Look, I’ve lived almost all my life in the mountains,” you said, not wanting to seem like a pushover, “But this is something else, alright? And where are we? Why did you bring me up here?”

They shrugged and stepped back, still keeping their body between you and the head-spinningly high drop into the valley below. “I wanted to bring you somewhere safe. If you’d carried on today, by the time you reached the bottom of that path it’d be nightfall, and the bandits in those woods hunt best at night. I thought… oh dear…” and their shoulders drooped and their head bowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you up here against your will. I just…” They sighed and added, “I always was too impulsive. I’m sorry. I’ll take you down.”

“Wait,” you chuckled, seeing their obvious dismay. “Stop, it’s alright. Look, I’ve been travelling for days now, and I’m really tired. I could use a night’s rest somewhere out of the wind, and warm too.”

“This is my home,” they said, glancing over their feathery shoulder. “And it’s open to you. Please, come inside. I’ve got some hot broth that’s been cooking slowly all day. It should be almost ready by now. It’s very hearty and warming.”

“Sounds a heck of a lot better than dry biscuits and hard cheese,” you grinned. They didn’t seem so bad. “So you live up here all by yourself?” you asked conversationally.

They nodded. “Oh, where are my manners? I should have introduced myself. I’m sorry. My name is Gharadyr.”

“Gharadyr,” you repeated. “That’s quite the mouthful…”

They bobbed their head and you chuckled. They weren’t half as scary as you’d first thought they were. 

They shrugged again, and said, “My parents used to call me ‘Adyr’…” 

“I like Gharadyr,” you smiled. “But I’ll call you whatever you’d like.”

You told them your name, and they clicked their beak in what you thought might have been a happy gesture akin to a smile. “Suits you,” they said. “Now, come on inside and get out of the wind.”

A beautifully crafted, wooden doorway was set into the rock, with carved stone blocks to fill up the rest of the gap, and as you approached, you saw that there were sunflowers growing in a little rocky flowerbed just in front of the house. 

“Gharadyr, this is beautiful!” you exclaimed on seeing it. “Did you build this?” You looked at their wings and wondered how they’d managed it with no hands. They walked upright, as tall as a man or maybe even a half-orc, but they were more bird-like than humanoid. 

They cocked their head curiously, watching you rationalising everything, and then they chuckled warmly and raised a talon. “Yup,” they said, clicking their beak again, and confirming that that was definitely a smile. “We’re pretty handy with these…” 

You had to laugh. They seemed so cheery. 

“It’s lovely,” you said, and they clicked their beak once more, hooking a talon around a low handle on the door and opening it for you. 

Inside was not at all what you’d expected. You had imagined perhaps a foetid cave, full of rotting bones and feathers and bits of twig, but in fact it was clean, homely, warm, and endlessly inviting. The floor was smooth stone, covered in woven grass mats, and in one corner was a large hearth and cooking spit, with forged iron hooks to hang pots on, and a chimney that took all the smoke and smell out through a natural fissure in the rock. On the left hand side of the limestone cave was a large and comfortable looking nest, set into a huge, excavated alcove in the wall, and dotted all around the cave walls, inset into tiny niches, were beeswax candles, their lights lending a flickering warmth to the already cosy home. At the far end was a doorway and a set of steps that led down, indicating that the structure had more than one level. 

“Wow,” you breathed, feet faltering on the threshold. 

“You like it?” they giggled, and when you nodded, they added, “Good. I’m glad. I so rarely get visitors way up here. Unless you can fly, or have the climbing abilities of a drider, it’s not terribly accessible. In fact, my best friend is a drider…”

You wondered briefly if they had a mate, given that these creatures usually formed partners for life, and this one had to be fully mature given their size and strength. 

As if they’d read your mind, they sighed. “And it’s just me, so… yeah. It gets a bit lonely. It’ll be nice to have someone to liven the place up.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, stepping inside, setting your backpack down with a grunt, and perching on a clearly handmade chair to unlace your boots. 

They shrugged. “It’s not so bad, I guess. I mean…” their voice quavered slightly as they went on, “It’s tricky, you know? Oh here I go, blathering on when you must be exhausted. Do you want something to drink?”

“Why is it tricky?” you asked curiously, following them through their cosy house towards another archway at the back that you’d not spotted at first. It led out into a pantry area, and you saw to your amazement that a little trickle of clear water flowed through the rock into a deep basin placed at floor level, which drained away at the base, into another channel, vanishing into the rock below.

They made that little side to side gesture with their head as they strode away with their wings folded neatly behind their back. “Oh, you know… I mean, not to get too personal too soon or anything, but technically I’m classed among my people as male because of… you know… what’s between my legs -” you’d have been lying if your eyes hadn’t flickered down for a better look, but there was nothing to see through the feathers, “- but I don’t feel like it… I don’t feel like a female either. I’m just… me? It’s hard to describe. But my kind aren't very understanding about these things.”

“So you live out here alone because you’re non binary?” you asked, astonished. 

“I’m what?”

“Non binary,” you said. “Neither one nor the other. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just another way of being.”

“You have a word for it?” they asked, turning and staring at you with their intense eyes.

You nodded, frowning. “Sure. You don’t?”

They shook their head. “All this time, I thought… I thought there was something wrong with me. And then you come along, and five minutes later, you’re validating what I am with a single word.”

“Two, technically,” you grinned. “But yeah. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Gharadyr looked briefly behind them, and then sank shakily onto the top of a wooden barrel, landing heavily and barely getting their fan tail out of the way in time. “Huh.”

You stepped closer and laid your hand on their shoulder. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” they smiled, and then cleared their throat, glancing briefly at your hand resting on their feathers. “Yeah. Now, let me get you that drink.” They busied themselves, faffing around and fussing with your drink, even adding a little mint leaf from a plant that grew merrily in a stone planter near a carved-out window in the pantry. They plucked it gently with their beak and deposited it in the earthenware mug before freezing and looking back at you with eyes wide. “Oh, do you mind? I’m sorry. I use my beak for a lot of things, but…”

“It’s fine,” you laughed. “Gharadyr, relax, would you?”

“I’m so sorry…”

“And stop apologising,” you grinned as you took the mug from their taloned foot. “It’s sweet.”

If birds could blush, you were certain this avian would have. Instead, they clicked their beak in a slightly different fashion, and turned away. A moment later, after you’d drained the mug dry of the sweet, fresh, spring water, they said, “If you wanted to wash or bathe, there’s actually a spring-fed pool just below here. It’s wonderful. It’s not particularly warm, but it’s not exactly icy either. I like it anyway, but you don’t have to.”

“Adyr,” you smiled, stopping them mid-flow with a hand on their soft, downy chest. They let out a moan at your touch that they clearly hadn’t intended, and then all their feathers fluffed up in embarrassment. It made you wonder when the last person had touched them. 

Their breath came in rapid pants, but they stepped back from your palm and blinked. “It’s… It’s that way… if… if you… if you wanted…” they rasped, nodding at the set of stairs you'd glimpsed earlier.

Feeling perhaps a little more brave than you usually would, you smiled prettily and said, “Come and join me?”

Gharadyr froze. “You… You mean it?”

“Mm hmm,” you hummed merrily, setting the mug down on a carved countertop and heading back out to fetch your pack. There was a bar of soap in there and a wash cloth, and a change of clothes. 

They followed you back out into the main living space, and waited while you dug around in your pack for your things. When you had retrieved everything you needed, you went with them down the stairs, loving the way their big tail wiggled from side to side as they made their way down the stone staircase. 

When you reached the pools below, you gasped. “This is incredible,” you whispered, though your words were almost swallowed by the rush of a waterfall in one corner. 

The spring water spilled into a deep pool before trickling out into a second. This second, narrower pool ran outside through a narrow opening in the cave wall on the far side of the mountain, giving a different view from the valley you’d nearly fallen to your death in. “I can’t believe you live here,” you said, shaking your head in astonishment. “It’s stunning.”

“It took a while to find, and even longer to hollow out, but I had help from a couple of dwarves and a drider with an immaculate sense of interior design and space… seriously, he’s something else.”

“I’d like to meet him,” you said. “I always admire a craftsman.”

Gharadyr ruffled their feathers, and then stepped carefully into the water, keeping their back turned to you as you undressed. 

“No need to be shy,” you laughed playfully, and they turned almost instinctively it seemed. The moment they saw you, their feathers stood up on end, as though goosebumps had rippled across their skin, and they turned away. “Or… you know… whatever…” you said, feeling suddenly self conscious.

“You’re beautiful,” they murmured. “I’ve never seen a human like that before…”

“Like what?” you asked sliding into the water that was curiously much warmer than you’d expected. As it lapped at the top of your legs, you inhaled a little more sharply. 

Gharadyr still didn’t turn back to face you, and you reached for their waist, drawing yourself closer to them. There was something about them that was so alluring, and you felt alive in their presence in a way you’d not done before with anyone. 

They turned, their muscular legs moving their body in the water with ease, and their wingtips came down to rest on your shoulders, making you shiver with pleasure. As you tilted your head back and parted your lips, they made a soft, cooing croak in their throat. “Bare of clothes,” they murmured. “Your skin is so smooth… the way it gleams… I… I wish I could touch you… I mean, as humans do…”

“You’ll just have to improvise then, won’t you?” you smirked. As you reached your fingertips out for their chest, they gasped and sank lower in the water, their knees apparently giving way beneath them. Luckily there was a stone sill that ran all the way around this pool, creating a seat, and they landed on it their wings still open as if in invitation. 

You stepped closer, the water sloshing around your hips, and they looked up at you with glassy eyes full of lust. 

You smiled and pressed your palm against the downy feathers of their cheek, and they leaned into your touch, shivering visibly. 

“When was the last time you were with someone, Gharadyr?” you asked, gingerly straddling their legs, knees resting on the ledge on either side of their muscular thighs, and running your hand down their torso towards their hips. 

“Never,” they breathed. “I’ve never… No one has ever wanted me…”

“Never?” you asked, feeling your face give away the depth of your astonishment as much as your expressive voice. They shook their head. “Will you let me make you feel good, Gharadyr?” 

They nodded eagerly, eyes rolling shut. 

Their primary flight feathers trailed through the water and they wrapped their damp wings around you as you seated yourself fully in their lap, bringing your hand down to see what kind of hardware you might be dealing with. As you were expecting from an avian, they had a slit between their legs, and as you slipped your fingers gently inside, they lurched with pleasure, rocking their head forwards to land on your shoulder, breathing heavily. 

“Easy,” you smiled, moving your fingers slowly in a circle around the rough protrusion inside and feeling waves of pleasure rippling through them in time with your movements. The organ began to swell beneath your fingertips as the sensations grew more and more intense for them, until you decided to sit on them and grind yourself against them in slow, sensuous rolls of your hips, all the while keeping your fingertips on either side of their most sensitive spot. As the water sloshed between you, they grabbed your shoulders in their wings and thrust repeatedly upwards into you, losing themselves in the rhythm of their pleasure, rutting against you as they parted their beak and began to shake violently. “Oh… oh gods…” they cried, finally giving in to the sensation entirely and spilling into the water around you. 

The feeling of their hot release hitting you set you off, and you came as well, back arching, clinging to their waist with one hand, the other still with your fingers curled inside Gharadyr. They pulsed and throbbed around you, still releasing into the water, before falling back against the side of the pool, spent and exhausted. 

Once you’d recovered your senses, you smiled and leaned down to rest your ear against their feathered chest, smiling, listening to their pounding heartbeat. 

“Don’t go tomorrow,” they rasped suddenly into the silence. 

“I have been summoned by the prince, you know?” you laughed. 

“Oh.”

“But he doesn’t know where I am. I could probably stay here for a week.”

“Would you?” 

You clung tighter to their slim waist and nodded. “Sure.” 

You did stay for a further four days, but you knew you couldn’t keep the prince waiting for too much longer. Gharadyr took you past the edge of the forest, carrying you by your backpack again in a wild, dizzying ride that left you shaky-kneed by the time they landed in the sloping, sun-soaked meadows on the far side of the mountains. The sea glimmered in the distance, and they nuzzled against your cheek. 

“I’ll see you soon,” you smiled. “Once I’ve got this commission out of the way, I promise I’ll come and visit you.”

“Or I could come and see where you live,” they smiled hopefully. “I’d love to see what you do; maybe watch you work…”

“Sure,” you grinned, kissing their cheek and watching them shiver. “I’d like that too.”

 Do let me know, as always, if you enjoyed it by leaving like, and a comment if you feel like it.

Tomorrow's will feature a banshee, and the final story will be an enormously adorable yeti! What a ride this project has been so far, and I hope you're enjoying all the effort I'm putting into it. Thank you a million times to those of you who have let me know by leaving likes and comments - it really does make all the difference.