He isn't expecting feathers. Dion watches them fall with distant surprise, cascading down as though the delicate ruffles were the Phoenix's tailfeathers he'd envisioned each time they shifted as Joshua walked.

But oh, the heat.

"Joshua," he rasps weakly, helplessly as he is consumed by it. His hands quake, hips stuttering through a squeeze of tight need- and then he is lost, slamming forward to bury himself deeply inside of Joshua and fill him utterly.