Logan liked to rip his feathers out by the handful when he held him down by his wings to fuck him.
Warren was no match for the animalistic strength Logan possessed and the wild instinct that broke loose whenever he was alone with Warren. A few well placed hits and Warren fell to his knees, submitting himself completely to Logan.
He never fought back when Logan approached him, not that it would have been of any use, but he had never tried, not even the first time.
Logan liked to slice through Warren's clothes with his claws until they simply fell away, uncaring of the wounds he left on Warren's skin. If anything he loved the sight and the smell of Warren's blood, loved to lick the cuts and taste the blood when he didn't smear it all over Warren's skin with his fingers and his tongue.
He pressed Warren face first against the nearest surface, flat or not and held him down by his wings. The bones felt strong under his hands but Logan knew how fragile they were compared to his own strength and was careful not to break anything.
He never bothered to prepare Warren. He just lubed his cock and pressed right in. Warren always trembled when he did this but he never made a single noise.
Logan also liked to bite into Warren's skin until he drew blood. The scent, the taste of Warren's warm blood flooding into his mouth was overwhelming.
He never bothered to touch Warren's cock to get him off, either but he knew Warren's weakness. Knew that when he sunk his teeth into the flesh and skin between Warren's wings and his spine Warren came hard and fast and afterwards was even more willing to endure whatever Logan did to him.
See, Logan didn't only draw blood from Warren for his own pleasure; it was for Warren's too.
If he fucked him on a flat surface Logan flipped Warren over onto his back by his wings, ripping out even more feathers before letting go. He tied Warren's hands on his back, ordered him to wrap his legs around Logan's waist and grip his slender hips until Warren's weight was only supported by Logan's hands and his fragile wings. They wouldn't break from this but it hurt a lot and Logan could keep Warren in this position for a long time as strength, stamina and experience were on his side.
Logan was flexible enough to bend forward and bite into Warren's stomach. Here with no resistance and restrictions from any bones he could open his mouth wide and sink as many teeth as possible as deep as he could into Warren. Not just once but two, three, four times everywhere he could reach, often reopening wounds from their last encounter and the encounter before that.
Blood, so much blood ran over Warren's chest until it pooled between his collar bones or dripped over his sides onto his wings.
Logan could hold on for up to two hours. Warren couldn't but he didn't have a choice because he had never fought for that choice.
Warren's skin had been smooth and unblemished when he had come to the mansion but now it was littered with scars, Logan's marks forever burnt into him.
Logan also never allowed Warren to close his eyes when he had him on his back. He didn't want to take any chance that Warren would imagine himself to be somewhere else, with someone else so Warren's eyes had to stay open and focused on Logan or he would be punished and Warren never liked that.
And finally when the pain was great enough, when all the post-orgasm haziness had fled Warren's body, when his whole body began to tremble from the strain Warren would make a noise. A guttural, steady sound, like a keen from a dying swan.
Sometimes that noise brought Logan over the edge but sometimes he kept fucking Warren until the sound died again and he knew that he had completely broken him.
As soon as he pulled out he told Warren to go and clean himself up while he picked up the feathers. He burnt them except one. One feather for each encounter between them until he had enough to take Warren on a bed of his own blood stained feathers and Logan would finally let go of any restraints he still had in regard to Warren.