Just realized I never uploaded this here. Anyways, this is one of my favorite RP sessions from a couple of years ago, of which some of the art on my page is based off of.


Spring has sprung! Accordingly, Sidney, a male cedar waxwing, has ventured a bit farther northward. Among the forest canopy he and a few far-flung acquaintances have found a vein of early blooms and berries. His companions are usually in sight, though he doesn't know them very well; indeed, birds of a waxwing flock are constantly coming and going. Even the flock itself is always in flux, sometimes massive and at other times scattered to the four winds.

Here in the sparse forest of the foothills, perched upon a twig of the generous juniper that just provided a scrumptious snack of berries, Sidney belches softly.

"True, they were a little tart," he confesses to no one in particular, his voice a trilling tenor.

"Very welcome, just the same."

He scans the vibrant verdure of the damp realm below. A burbling brook catches his ear, and he muses that a drink would be a welcome finale to his feast. A bath too. Then again, the snowmelt might be a little too bracing this time of year. ‘Brrr!’ he protests with a shiver of revulsion.

Anyway, Sid flutters down to the stream-bank, instantly enamoured of its musical serenade: an aquatic susurrus mingled with tinkling and plinking as the currents crawl across the bed's smooth stones. However, one drawback of the yellow bird's new perch is the water's din, which reduces his awareness of his surroundings. Worse yet, the abrupt absence of his former companions entirely escapes his notice. Those traitors!

Oblivious of his new isolation but luxuriating in the stream's sonic ambiance, the golden gourmand dips his black bill to the crystal-clear water, indulging in deep drink. His short, back-flung crest lies flat against his nape as each icy gulp pulses down his throat, splashing among the berries that are even now being crushed in his crop. ‘Good heavens that's cold!’ he thinks, his tongue stinging and his brain starting to freeze from the mountain runoff.

Prince the eagle stretches his pinions lazily, considering whether to vacate his perch and fly down to the waters below for a quick drink, his feathers fluffed slightly against the brisk spring air as a soft breeze buffets him. From his current vantage point high in a not entirely living tree, he can see a great deal of the comings and goings of the woodland creatures below, some of which he follows with interest as they scurry hurriedly about, very aware of the keen, raptorial gaze considering them from above. Right now, he has little interest in going after a squirrel or rat or sparrow though; it's a lot of work for relatively little reward, and the small creatures would see him coming more often than not. Besides, he wasn't particularly hungry anyways.

As he watches, a Cedar Waxwing casually approaches the stream, and begins delicately sipping the water. Prince watches the little bird drink, mouth suddenly feeling dry as he realizes he is quite thirsty himself. The bubbling of the snow-melt in the stream below seems all the more alluring now as he imagines how cool and refreshing the water would be going down. As thirst finally gets the best of him, he spreads his mighty wings and leaps from his perch, flapping twice and gliding lazily downwards towards the water. As he approaches, he fully expects the smaller bird to take flight in a panic, clearing the way for him to land, but to his surprise the songbird doesn't move as he approaches.

Sidney takes a last sip of frigid water then hoists up his dizzy head. His brain aches. Although the warmth of his post-feast circulation is slowly warming what he drank, it'll take a minute or two for his palate and crop to thaw out after those frigid gulps.

Glancing down at the water, a glimmer of reflection catches his eye. Uh oh! With a hop he whirls about. A huge eagle has nearly cornered him against the creek. True, he could bolt into the air and attempt to evade; but he's not exactly quick, especially in his post-meal, post-chill state. Plus it would seem somehow ill-mannered, as illogical as it seems, to leave without a word of acknowledgement. And something else keeps him riveted to his stone perch: maybe it's just the terror that grips as spine as fiercely as the water's chill cramps his gut. Or maybe it's sheer unbridled fascination. After all, he's never been this close to an eagle before.

After a giddy gulp glicks down his wet throat, he warbles, "Sree!" But immediately cringes at the foolishness of rendering a customary waxwing greeting to a... raptor! Indeed aquila chrysaetos! An eagle that of this kind is considered a monster by most birds: a skyborne sentinel, tales of which terrorize hatchlings as recounted by earnest parents trying to impart life's lessons to their fledglings.

Prince cocks his head curiously, looking at the Waxwing with big, golden eyes, surprised that the bird didn't immediately panic and bolt when he landed. Then he realizes why as the small bird stiffens suddenly, whirling about and then staring at him with an almost dazed expression, trembling slightly in fear as he gazes upward at the mighty eagle. Prince chuffs slightly in amusement at this, realizing the Waxwing hadn't even known he was there.

Instinct tells Prince to snare this prey for foolishly allowing him to approach so close, but he reins himself in as the songbird warbles softly. Prince, who knows little of singing does not understand the bird's greeting, so simply grunts slightly in acknowledgement, then reaches past the other bird and lowers his beak to the water, taking several greedy, refreshing swallows. His neck undulates slightly as his throat contracts with each gulp, pushing the cool water into his crop. He smiles as his thirst is sated, taking several times the smaller bird's weight in water before raising his head again. As he does, he expects the Waxwing to be gone, having come to his senses and fled like any smart prey would, but to his surprise, the bird is still there, looking at him curiously, perhaps even with an air of fascination.

Admittedly Sidney might make good an escape if he tried, even before the scary visitor dips his regal head to drink. And yes, the waxwing is more manoeuvrable and agile than the heavy eagle, who is built for battle and conquest. But Sid's top speed at the best of times, much less now, could never match the hurtling flight of this magnificent predator.

So the rapt yellow bird simply ogles the enormous hunter, perhaps akin to a human swimming beyond the surf coming face-to-snout with a great white shark. This eagle, however, seems like an oddly placid predator. After all, Sid thinks, it could have claimed him when it had the chance.

After indulging in some furtive glances to drink in the details of Prince's amazing physique, a thrill of dread electrifies the waxwing's hackles as the towering carnivore leans closer. The yellow bird nearly faints in relief when he realizes that the golden eagle is merely drinking, using the ebon-hooked horror of his bill to gulp down a prodigious cargo. There must now be an apple-sized pool of water sloshing in the eagle's belly! he marvels.

"Th-thanks, for not--" Sid gulps and stops, not wanting to give the eagle any ideas. Lamely he shifts to a different tack.

"Well, it seems I've been rather lax in my precautions lately. Oh my, you're so mighty and magnificent up close!" he praises. But his inner thoughts are a turmoil of panic and awe, among them: Does that seem too much like flattery? Why am I still here?! If I somehow survive this, the others will think I'm crazy and never talk to me again!

Prince gapes his bill slightly, a (scary) smile in the manner of an eagle, surprised when the smaller bird actually worked up the courage to speak to him. His initial urges to simply snatch the smaller bird from the ground and swallow him down, still struggling and alive are strong, but he holds back for a moment, curiosity about the Waxwing getting the best of him.

"Heh, thanks..I guess" he says casually, gauging the response of the other bird.

"My name's Prince. Mind if I ask what a tidbit like you is doing so close to an eagle? You know I could eat you, right?"

Although the sight of the eagle's grinning maw is spine-tingling, the waxwing can't help but return the smile with a parting of his own bill. But Prince's point-blank statement of food chain facts sends a gulp quivering down Sid's throat. "U-Uh, yes, you could," he admits.
Brightening, he adds, "But you didn't!"
He nods decisively with false confidence.
"So it seemed only polite that I remain to thank you for your mercy."

He chirps, "I'm Sidney. Or just Sid."
Privately he thinks, ‘Perhaps if Prince here knows my name he'll be less likely to just gobble me up.’ But at that, the dizzy feeling returns, sending the yellow bird staggering a little. An astonishing figment flits through his mind of what it might be like to be consumed by this huge winged warrior. Sid has thought about his natural station and possible fate before, of course; usually with a mixture of horror and elation. But here he is, standing toe-to-toe with the carnivorous terror that could make that nightmare a reality!

The eagle chuckles softly at this, surprised by Sidney's fearless personality. He'd never really experienced something like this before. Slowly, and carefully to avoid spooking the Waxwing he lowers his head to Sid's level, inspecting the sleek, elegant patterns of his feathers more closely. Rarely did he have a chance to look at his prey so closely. Usually, whatever small mouse, squirrel or bird had the misfortune of seeing him up close was snatched, tossed upwards and swept mercilessly down a hot, avian gullet. Not this time though. This prey was different. Confusing. 'No...' Prince decided. 'I'm not going to eat this one. Not yet at least...'

Sid looked a little nervous with an eagle this close, but he didn't fly away. Something was keeping him here. Prince noted his seeming admiration, especially his words earlier...

"I'm not going to hurt you" he says.

"Is...is there anything you are looking for in particular?" he continues awkwardly, not really sure how to respond to Sid's odd behavior.

When Prince looms nearer, a quick intake of breath hisses in through Sid's awe-gaped bill. But the yellow pipsqueak hardly shies away at all, perhaps not wishing to offend the raptor.

"Gosh! What big beautiful eyes you have, Prince!" he comments softly. But at Prince's pronouncement, Sid's brow rises in surprise. Had he realized the eagle was actually weighing his fate all this time, he might have been less enthusiastic about staying to chat.

"G-good," he coos when Prince reassures him. "Well, I... um... Sorry if I'm distracting you from other important business. I, uh... I suppose I've always enjoyed watching eagles. From a safe distance, of course!" he hurriedly amends.
"But today could be serendipity: since you have been nice enough to hold at bay your instincts, and speak to me, it's a good opportunity to perhaps... make a bridge between species."
As soon as Sid utters this he realizes the folly of it. Humiliation slumps his crest and droops his head.

Prince laughs out loud, but checks himself. This bird is either smart, or very stupid, although the eagle hasn't quite figured out which just yet. He seems to have a most unusual fascination with predators, perhaps even to the point of adoration, although Prince isn't sure about that. After a moment of indecision, he decides to play along, at least for a bit. It could be fun he supposes.

"Heh, well sure, we could give it a try" he says, assuming a non-threatening posture and giving the Waxwing a friendly nudge with his bill.

Like a drowning bird thrown a lifeline, Sid perks up. "Oh great! I was afraid you'd think it ridiculous. Being ambassadors, of a sort, between our species." When Prince noses him, Sid shivers but nuzzles back. Through his nostrils he draws in the eagle's wild scent. As for the waxwing, he smells of pungent berries and pine.

"I mean, my idea sort of is ridiculous," he babbles.
"You have to eat, after all. And you're a meat eater. It's only natural. It's not like we can negotiate a truce or anything!"
Sid is once again scandalized by the thought that even now, witnesses might be spreading word of this preposterous meeting through the grapevine. Ah, who cares about them, he decides at last. This here... this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! One he isn't going to let pass him by.

On impulse Sidney unfurls his golden wings and cloaks Prince's splendid head and neck with them -- at least as much as can be covered at the waxwing's tiny size. "You're a dream come true!" he rejoices softly.

"Heh, easy there Sid!" Prince says, taken aback by the Waxwing's sudden embrace. As his speaks, his breath gusts over the songbird, for they are very close together now. From Sid's perspective, the eagle's tongue and inside of his mouth are even visible as he speaks!

Just as the words escape his beak though, Prince reconsiders, letting his pride slip away. It is undeniable that the sweet Waxwing awakes primal instincts within him, urging him to take his prey, yet at the same time there is something oddly likable about the little bird. Is it ridiculous? Of course it is, yet even as he thinks it, Prince is taken by the idea that perhaps it's not ridiculous. A small, innocent bird like a Waxwing helping an eagle to food...that could potentially be a lucrative, and mutually beneficial partnership.

"You are right, I do still have to eat" Prince says.
"But I don't necessarily have to eat you. There are other 'arrangements' perhaps we could discuss?" he suggests, flexing his talons slightly as he speaks, unconsciously digging his claws into the dirt.

Sidney can't help but spend a few heartbeats peering wide-eyed into the golden eagle's pink, slimy maw. How many songbirds had vanished into those wickedly hooked mandibles?! He might soon be joining them, if he missteps or has misjudged Prince's good will.

Nevertheless, after relieving Prince of the wing-hug, the jubilant waxwing folds his wings and settles down onto his rump. He nods.
"Aye, Prince. Other, uh, arrangements."
Anxiety quickens the yellow bird's heart as he steals a glance at Prince's prodigious talons. If anything is scarier, and at the same time more wonderfully awesome, than the eagle's mouth, it is surely his claws!

"What do you have in mind, Prince?" Sid inquires naively. But the berry-muncher's thoughts are cluttered with aspects of the raptor's physical presence: instincts continue to claw at his consciousness each moment he lingers within reach of the predator.

"Well, there's no really kind way to put it but you're kind of...small, and could benefit from protection in return for certain services, like drawing prey into traps, and using your non-threatening appearance to aid in hunting" Prince says, casually moving closer to Sidney.

"What do you think about that?" he asks, with a yawn, stretching his powerful jaws wide, strings of saliva glistening in the sunlight as they stretch, droop, and finally break between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, pink glistening insides of the beak suggesting an inward direction of travel to the Waxwing for a split second before the view is whisked away as the eagle again seals his beak. He gazes down at Sid again, with bright intelligence in his eyes, interested to see what the songbird would say.

"Ah, I see," Sidney replies about the uncomfortable details of the potential pact. He takes a breath to steady his thoughts.
"I suppose now that I have crossed to the dark side, so to speak, I might be blacklisted among the songbirds anyway. At least among waxwings. They're a gossipy lot."
Puzzlement furrows his brow as he finds it strange that he just referred to his kind as 'they'. ‘Have I already distanced myself from them?’ he wonders to himself. ‘Or maybe I never truly fit in with them.’

"I... like the notion," he decides.
"After all, you have spared my life. It is reasonable that I should return the favor by providing fuel for you to thrive."
At that moment Prince's yawn unfolds.
"Oh gosh!" the songbird enthuses. He gulps as if hungering, perversely, to be snatched up and sent down squirming into Prince's athletic body. He tries to cover up this treacherous impulse by blurting out whatever words find their way onto this tongue.
"Th-then again, maybe we could first enjoy each other's company a little more. You're just so amazing!" he idolizes. At once embarrassment slouches Sid into a crestfallen stare at the stones underfoot. Even though he spoke his heart, it still sounds so much like flattery.

"Eh, sure" Prince says, noticing how the songbird flustered upon seeing his yawn.

"It's okay if you're not ready yet, don't sweat it." Prince says with a smile. He finds the Sid's antics quite amusing, and his ego enjoys the Waxwing's constant praise.

"Besides..." he says almost darkly, stretching forward and cradling the songbird in his neck, smothering Sid in soft, golden brown feathers. His beak and eyes are now on the same level as the smaller bird, and mere inches away.

"...I get the sense you might have something *else* on your mind..."

Enfolded by the plush curve of Prince's neck, Sid's heart palpitates from the storm of electrical euphoria howling through his brain. One half of him loves this close contact with what is essential the bogeyman of waxwing legend; the other half recoils as if he's teetering on the brink of the most horrible fate a songbird could ever contemplate. Indeed, quivers race though Sid's muscles as his body berates him for these treacherous thoughts.

Meanwhile passion heats his cheeks and elation gapes his bill into a grin as he returns the eagle's embrace via unfurled wings and sensual nuzzling. Staring through the amber portal of Prince's nearest eye, the puny admirer feels himself falling into the eagle's inky pupil, transfixed by the depths within. He fancies he's looking into the void of doom, yet also the soul of an oddly personable predator.

But Sid's yearning for unity with the great golden eagle is simply too much. Especially in light of the carnivorous kite's fluffy affection, which seductively serenades Sid's mind about what it might be like inside the grand golden hunter.
"I... I do have something else in mind," he confesses at last.
Giving in to lust, he haltingly forces the syllables across his rebellious tongue. "W-would you... consume me?"

Prince's eyes widen in surprise, experiencing the unexpected yet again from the little Waxwing.

"You...want me to...eat you?" he asks disbelievingly, looking across at the small bird to gauge whether he was really serious about what he'd just said. Yet looking into those small eyes, Prince could tell he was dead serious. He hadn’t been expecting this, but the songbird's odd behavior made sense now. His adoration, longing, even foolish bravery in the face of a vastly superior predator who could've killed him with a moment's thought...

It all made sense now.
When Prince asks for confirmation of Sid's preposterous proposal, the waxwing gulps. His bill slips open, but at first no words come out, only heated panting. Now he finds his voice.
"I know it's... weird. Crazy even! But there's something in me that craves to be with you like this, beautiful eagle. The ultimate unity!"

"Are you sure?" Prince asks again, not really convinced it’s what the little bird wants. After all, his kind usually fled at the first sight of an eagle. Despite his instincts, Prince also found himself not wanting to send Sid to his end. There was something endearing about him that had inclined the eagle to spare him thus far. Asking to be eaten hadn't changed that.

Sid replies to the raptor's repeated request for confirmation, "I imagine I'll regret it once I'm actually in... there--" He nudges the eagle's chest with a wing-tip, or as high up as he can reach, which might be close to the crop. "---Inside you!"
"Umm, well...I guess...uh, I'll see if you like this" Prince finally replies, having an idea.

Slowly he spreads his bill, bringing his head gently down over Sidney, his slick, wet tongue flicking out, pressing slowly over the Waxwing in a warm, slow, teasingly sensual lick. Prince closes his eyes in pleasure as the delectable prey's taste washes over his tongue. He begins to drool copiously, the blood heat of his saliva and breath enveloping and soaking Sidney as he tastes him again, gently, but more firmly this time, hot, raptorial saliva matting down smooth feathers this time as he slurps again, the sounds of his licks audible to his prey as a soft, slimy 'sluck-slch-schurp!'

Then the tongue pulls reluctantly away, as Prince decides his prey has had enough. Surely this would have the dissuading effect he intended? Prince wasn't sure. All he was sure of now was his instinct, which had kicked into its highest gear after tasting the Waxwing, and hungrily demanded that he feed. Prince could already feel the ache of an empty crop as his avian metabolism prepared to take in more nourishment.

It's at this opportune time that Prince's attempt to dissuade arrives. As the golden predator's gaping maw envelops the songbird, a gasp shudders through him like a shockwave. But lust conquers terror; so Sid spreads his wings wide, trustingly hugging the lower mandible just as his spirit embraces what might be his destiny. Never mind that the eagle's sharp jaws seem quite capable of severing the reverent bird's delicate wings.

Meanwhile Prince might perceive the patter of Sid's exuberant heart, as if it's a miniature sparrow struggling to free itself from the cage of its insane host body.
"Yesss....!" hisses the waxwing. "It's everything I've ever dreamed of, and more!"

While still inside the gentle clamp of the grand eagle's bill, Sid gazes into the saliva-curtained, gaping pit of Prince's glistening gullet. Despite it being an invitation to gastric doom, Sid moans with arousal, leaning into the pliant python of the carnivore's creased tongue. As the hunter's heated breath warms the songbird and fills his lungs, the sultry saliva sinks into his plumage. Unable to resist, Sid paints an amorous lick upon Prince's slick tongue.

By the end of the taste-test, the waxwing's feathers are thoroughly matted with eagle-drool. But to him it's a bath beyond compare! Once Prince withdraws, Sid teeters as if about to collapse from a heady mix of anoxia and carnal bliss.
"So gentle," he coos.
"You could have bitten me, but didn't."
Blinking to clear the glaze of pleasure from his beady eyes, the elated berry-bird gawks up at the towering raptor.
"Oh...! You're hungry now. Perhaps it is I who am seducing you!" he muses with a giggle.
"Hehe" Prince laughs nervously, unable to deny he has an almost insatiable urge to devour the little songbird now. In fact, his instincts demand it, urging him to ram Sid down his throat as quickly as possible, to satisfy the ravenous, savage emptiness within him. This is what he was made for, to prey upon, and consume smaller creatures. To draw strength from them and thrive. He knows what to do next.
Before the eagle scoops Sid up again, the songbird confides, "I don't know what it is about you, amazing eagle. Or maybe it's just something strange about me! Anyway I just adore the way you make me feel; I'm so scared inside, like a hatchling abandoned in the nest, pining after his missing parents. Yet at the same time I'm as giddy as a gander in the peak of rut... crazed with lust over what you can do to me!" he Heaves a sigh. "Yearning to be with you forever, Prince!"

Prince looks at Sid now with a different gaze, the gaze of a predator sizing up his next meal. He thinks of offering something like a "final chance", or a "no going back", but refrains. He wants this, and he knows the Waxwing wants it too.
"Oh! Here it comes!" Sid elates, having noticed the change in the hunter's demeanour.

Gently, to avoid injuring his willing meal, Prince stretches his beak forward, licking his prey once more, slurping and tasting greedily, again and again, almost unable to control himself, filled with the overwhelming urge to just feed and be done with it. Part of him also wants this to be an enjoyable experience though, so for Sid's benefit he prolongs the feeding to ensure the Waxwing time to savor the moment.
"Oh yes! Take me! You know you want it, grand eagle!"
Prince's sensual lick tears a moan of deep desire from the infatuated waxwing. Although he flutters and fans his shivering wings, it's not to escape, but to frolic with his captor. Once again caged by the eagle's beak, Sidney hugs the cup-like lower mandible, reveling in the feather-saturating saliva of the gooey tongue beneath his chest. As his hammering heart counts what could become some of the last beats of his life, he says softly, "I never imagined I'd be sprawling so lovingly in the very maw of a golden eagle! It's horrifying yet rapturous!"

Prince pauses his tasting for a moment, interested by Sid's words of praise.

"You're really enjoying this, huh?" he asks, voice a little distorted by the soft feathers of the bird in his mouth. In his current position, with Sid situated neatly on his tongue, gripped softly, yet firmly by his beak (carefully keeping the sharp tip to one side of his prey, to avoid injuring him), Prince can taste the sweetness of the Waxwing's fear, feel the frantic beat of his tiny heart and the pleasingly warm weight of the tiny body against his tongue. In fact, the prey is becoming ever warmer and heavier now as eagle saliva soaks into yellow and brown feathers as Prince gently works him in his mouth, taking care to lick and savor every inch of his living meal before moving to the next stage of feeding. It isn't often he is presented with an opportunity like this, to truly relish the sensations of feeding, to sweetly prolong it as long as he desires.
"Oh yes!" Sid enthuses, breathing deeply of the eagle's racy breath.
"I know I shouldn't be savoring this," he continues excitedly. "It's shameful. Sinful even! But you exalt me, mighty eagle!" Cooperatively Sid helps wedge his body into the mighty raptor's maw.
"There's nothing wrong with it from my perspective, friend" Prince replies gently, putting his instincts on hold for a moment for Sid's benefit.
Sidney's answering snort turns into a guffaw at the eagle's frank assessment of the situation, especially how it's demonstrably advantageous for Prince!
Then, slowly, the eagle raises his head, standing up as he does so. With a flap of his wings, he hops into the air, soaring a few feet before pumping his wings more earnestly and returning to his perch, where he'd be able to swallow Sid in privacy. As he flies, he can feel his prey squirming slightly against his tongue, and he smiles to himself, pleased by the lively motion of his meal as the Waxwing moves about inside the loose grip of his mouth.

When hoisted up by Prince, Sid exclaims, "Oh gosh!" At the unexpected motion, he gulps down a sudden wave of vertigo as his belly flip-flops. Indeed, Sid isn't used to abrupt changes in orientation brought about by muscles other than his own. Elation gasps into the waxwing's lungs as Prince leaps into a short flight toward seclusion. Breathlessly he says, "I never imagined flying with an eagle, much less inside one! Oh, I love it when you do that!"
As Prince lands he nods in acknowledgement of Sid's excitement to be aloft by a power other than his own. Then Prince feels a little silly himself as he realizes his nod has shaken the poor bird in his mouth all about. Luckily though, he seems perversely to have enjoyed it.
The tiny yellow morsel's laughter continues, pausing only to gasp in an occasional breath, as he's bounced around by his captor's affirmative gesture. "Part of it is that it's so slimy and almost... luxurious in your mouth," confesses the panting songbird.

Gently clamped inside the carnivorous kite's bill, Sid nuzzles the squishy tongue that helps comfort him. He even scrapes his tiny beak against the undulating oral organ, smearing a grateful lick upon it.
Prince smiles around his food as he feels Sid's own tongue pressing gently against his. By now the puny contours of the waxwing's efficient physique are soaked in thick raptor-drool! With all this slobber weighting his plumage, silly Sidney probably couldn't fly away even if he wanted to! But perversely this added element of helplessness only amplifies the waxwing's yearning to be devoured entirely by his captor. Accordingly, the lust-drunk bird furls his slimy wings, tucking them into his flanks to make himself completely compact for what might soon become a toboggan ride into Prince's crop: a headfirst dive into the unfathomable mystery of this beautiful eagle's interior!

The thought of plunging into the same carnivorous cocoon where so many of his brethren have met the finale of their existences utterly captivates Sid. His euphoria is like a tsunami, inundating and overpowering his instinctive revulsion against being devoured.

In amusement, Prince feels the songbird pull his wings to his side as if to say, 'swallow me!' The eagle knows his prey is adequately soaked down enough to make a streamlined gullet lump now, easily swallow-able. In fact, he is almost drooling too much! He hums to himself in self-satisfaction, teasing Sid with a few more slurps and gently sucking on him, licking and slurping over every soft, drool soaked contour of his food. Then he gulps down some of the extra saliva that has collected and is dripping from his beak. As he swallows, Sid is treated to a visible contraction of the eagle's eager throat muscles, the slight squish of wet flesh pushing together to drive the eagle spit down Prince's throat, treating the songbird to an audible, squelching gulp. 'glk-schulch!'
Trying to return some of his ravishment, Sid rakes his feet upon the cushioning avian mattress, then nibbles it too, to tickle his masseur. But Sid's carnal luxury may well be deceptive, depending on exactly what's in store for him in the belly of the beast: in the avian digestive tract of this marvelous specimen of aquila chrysaetos! Childhood nightmare, ravager of flocks, destroyer of worlds. And to think he's going down all in once piece!

Seeing the bubbling froth of raptor-drool glurked down Prince's ravenous gullet elicits a lusty moan from the slime-drenched prisoner. He can even hear the vibrations as the liquid bolus pulses down deeper into the eagle's body. ‘I'm next!’ he thinks. ‘This can't be happening! Here I go!’
Finally, giving in to the anticipation of his prey (and his own anticipation as well), Prince blissfully allows instincts to take over. With one swift motion he snaps his jaws forward, tossing his head such that Sid was tossed inwards, poised on the back of his throat. He shuts his beak, pausing one last time to savor the final moments of his prey's relative freedom before the now inevitable swallow that is about to occur.

Nature doesn't really have a contingency plan for creatures who are swallowed whole and alive, especially ones who do it deliberately. Mother Nature's bemused shrug might be accompanied by, "Whelp... hadn't really foreseen this. You're on your own now, chickadee!"

As for Prince, he might perceive the tremors of Sid's panic-seized muscles, counterpointed by the adrenalin-fueled racing of the doomed waxwing's desperate heart. Certainly, his excited trills and the scrabbling of his tiny talons do nothing to abate his fate; on the contrary, they may even hasten it by tickling the hunter's carnivorous flesh, which has become the berry-bird's living jail!

Prince's quick pause to savor the prey's last moments doesn't last long. Prince can tell the Waxwing is both terrified, and excited. The sweet taste of the berry eater mashed into his mouth (pushing a slight lump into the crook of the eagle's neck and bottom of his beak), along with his tremulous heartbeat and terrified, rapid breathing and trembling, nervous squirms awakens a deep, uncontrollable urge to feed within the predator. This is it, the moment he relinquishes control to savage, animal desire.

Slowly, inevitably, the regal head rises again, only this time with an element of finality as instinctive muscular contractions take hold. He feels the volume of Sid's body press wonderfully back from all sides of the small bird as his tongue pulls him inwards, surging upwards and slimily squelching him inwards against his slick, raptorial palate. Prince gulps headily as his tongue forces the prey into his throat, sensuous, slick muscles convulsing eagerly as the hunk of living meat resting on the edge of his gullet is squelched throatily downwards. From outside, his neck squishes inwards slightly as he gulps, driving Sidney's lump downwards. The eagle's profile undulates slightly (and bulges out around the Waxwing's own "profile" of sorts) as his head rises and falls rhythmically with the contraction of his gullet.

Sidney's squeak of thrill or horror is abruptly cut off as the songbird is squelched and swallowed by the indulgent eagle. Despite his plight, the waxwing would giggle if he could, concerning Prince's deliberate slow savoring of this latest feathery snack. But the gelatinous world of dark, clutching flesh commands Sid's full attention. In the ancient choreography of vertebrate ingestion, Prince's functionally-shaped tongue hooks the slimy songbird like a snared minnow, dragging him down the raptor's undulating throat. The waxwing's lurid yet thrilling ordeal is interrupted briefly by the amusing thought that Prince's digestive tract functions essentially the same as a berry-bird's; differing only in the type of cargo it wants to shuttle into the organism's processing plant.
But unwittingly or not, Sidney has awakened the beast that lurks in Prince's soul. This jovial eagle might be cordial and even cuddly on the outside; but deep down in the marrow of his predatory bones, the raptor can't change his carnivorous compulsions. And there's no salvation for the ingested songbird now: no action by Prince and certainly none by the living bolus that Sid had become can arrest the peristaltic procedure now underway. Accordingly, the creased slab of Prince's tongue coordinates effortlessly with the expanding, elastic embrace of an eagle esophagus.
Sid flinches slightly as he scrapes past the perilously sharp ridges jutting down from Prince's upper mandible. He shivers at the thought of what they could do to him were the eagle to bite him crosswise, to say nothing of the eagle's rending talons, had Prince taken Sid down from ambush in the first place. But these thoughts are swept away as peristalsis itself begins, forcing a wheeze of breath from the waxwing's flattened physique. He's now wearing Prince like a gigantic coat of pulsing predatory plumage!
Prince closes his eyes in bliss as he squeezes Sid into his throat, every fiber of his being rewarding him for savagely thrusting his meal to its rightful domain deep within himself with an audible gulp. He tries to be gentle, but the peristaltic contractions of his neck are beyond his full control now, and his body is determined to feed, making it a rough ride for the tiny Waxwing. All that is visible to the outside world of Sid now is a slight lump beneath sleek feathers. An almost meaningless protrusion in an uncaring gullet, temporarily suspended between a grateful mouth and a waiting crop, trapped in a gullet for this short moment between gulps. Prince moans in pleasure at the feeling of the songbird pressed tightly into his throat. The feeling of the prey squirming within the confined space won't last long however. Only moments remain before the eagle will send him the rest of the way down his greedy gullet and into his waiting belly.
Fortunately, Sid's bones are somewhat pliant, able to cope with the stress of being bent and crushed so urgently by the hunter's hungry contractions. Sid can barely breathe during this part of the journey. Nor perhaps the next, he realizes with horror. He hadn't quite thought this far ahead; his lust hadn't let him. Yet oh! It feels so wonderful to be so utterly contained and cocooned by this reveling raptor, sinking down deeper into the hunter's magnificent physique with each gloating thud of Prince's heartbeat. Utterly resigned now, Sid slips beyond hope or care.

Well... maybe a later regurgitation could deliver silly Sidney from his predatory predicament... in the unlikely event that the golden eagle would even change his mind. Such a change of mind might very well come upon Sid very soon, when he gets splurted into the slimy, claustrophobic coffin of the raptor's crop! There to be compressed into an egg-shaped, breathless ball of feathers and still-living meat!
Prince feels his prey begin to squirm a bit more as he works Sid further down his gullet. The eagle would feel bad for is prey at this moment if he could, but instinct was having none of it. Already his belly urges him to him to swallow again, and resume his feeding.

Happily, he obliges, closing his eyes, tossing back his golden head, and swallowing hard. The slick, carnivorous walls of the eagle's throat contract convulsively around his food, squeezing it downwards with an audible 'Ulk!' Prince raises his neck slightly, angling his body forward to use gravity to his advantage. He can feel the lump in his gullet moving more quickly now as he gains more of an advantage over the songbird.
Captivated mind and body alike, deeper and deeper Sid sinks into his raptor captor. Surely no one has ever been this deep into an eagle and lived to tell about it. Nor likely would Sid, come to think of it.

The woozy waxwing keeps his inky eyes squeezed shut, protecting them from the slime and friction of being gulped down. Those ocular orbs are useless anyway in the fathomless gloom of Prince's pulsing esophagus. But what Sid cannot see, he beholds with his other senses: Lurid glurks and glicks batter the songbird's eardrums, framed by a background of ominous gurgling from the predator's nearby gastric gorge. An acrid aroma stings Sid's nares. On the bright side, the friction of feeding is eased by the raptor's generous globs of sultry spittle. "M-m-m," coos the still-reveling prey as he slides toward the eagle's gut.

Smoothly, the food-lump slumps wetly down the elegant curve of a predatory neck, driven on by the effortless undulation of the predator's powerful gullet. Rippling, muscular, increasingly animalistic contractions force Sid ever further inwards. As the bulge in his throat slips downwards, Prince's feathers lift, protrude, and then smooth out with its progression. Another gulp coaxes the lump further, and soon Sidney disappears from the eagle's silhouette entirely as he slips into Prince's empty belly. Golden feathers ruffle in satisfaction as the prey pleasantly stretches his crop.
Now vanished from view of the outside world, Sid is survived by his former waxwing companions. But if any witnessed this horrific act, they might well return to report the event as a cautionary tale to the upcoming generation. Or maybe, if they beheld incredulously the scandalous prelude as well, Sidney "Eagle Whisperer's" illustrious career would be said to have been cut tragically short by a crucial miscalculation.

After a moment, the eagle speaks, realizing what a violent experience he must have put the Waxwing through with that last swallow.

"Um, you're not having second thoughts now, are you?" he asks, partially teasingly, and partially out of genuine curiosity. He'd tried to be gentle but had ended up pretty savage near the end as his body took control from his mind.

Cradled in the cramped quarters of Prince's crop, the devoured waxwing sputters, struggling for breath. Sid's squirming as he tries to push back at the accordion-like sac might amuse his jailor.
"Oh gosh...!" chirps the songbird at last. "It... it was amazing! Am I... simply lunch now?" But the trapped morsel has talked too much, for now he briefly passes out as his starved flesh drains the oxygen from his blood. After coming to, his horrified instincts scold and scorn him for the unbelievable recklessness that got him into this jam!
"Hmm, you sure were tasty!" Prince enthuses, cocking his head slightly, and running his tongue along the edge of his beak, clearing a bit of residual yellow fluff left from his recent meal.
He giggles at the raptor's comment.
"I'm glad I taste good; I never really thought of myself in those terms!"
The raptor can feel Sid moving around in his crop now, thrashing perhaps in terror. Oh well. He knew what was coming. Or did he? Prince feels a little guilty now that he can feel his prey's struggles. The little bird had been so good as he gulped him down. He'd never experienced such a willing, sensual meal before. Usually his hunts ended either in a quick, frenzied gulp or a bloodbath. This had been a refreshing change to say the least. Refreshing enough he didn't want it to end just yet. Knowing this would only prolong his meal's suffering, he swallows down the remaining drool in his beak, along with a bit of air to ease Sidney's labored breathing inside his crop.
"Oh!" Sidney exclaims as Prince's thoughtful gulp of air eases the stiflingly stale miasma that the eagle's digestive tract considers hospitality. The increased gas pressure also puffs out the crop a bit, easing its greedy grip upon the slime-saturated songbird.
"That's better, thank you!"

The balled-up waxwing, lying flat on his back between Prince's spine and heart, sucks in a few deep breaths to further clear his spinning mind.
"I actually didn't expect to survive this long," he marvels. "This place inside you... it's an incredible and intimate spot to be! I can hear your breathing fill up around me. And your heartbeat... it's so soothing. It might soon lull me to sleep."
"A lot of my food survives longer than you'd expect. The real feeding begins further along than the crop I guess" Prince says, reveling in Sid's jubilant flutters within his belly.
"Oh, I see," Sid replies to his host's candid explanation of what's lies ahead, deeper in the raptor's body. "I'm not actually in your stomach yet! Well that explains my survival. And here I thought I was a miracle bird!" Sid's giggling vibrates through the eagle's craw.
"You might not be a miracle bird, but I've never met prey like you before" Prince says candidly, continuing to enjoy the prey-bird’s trembling. The feeling is so pleasant, like a massage as the walls of his crop gently knead and squish his prey, bathing it in pre-digestive juices, lubing the songbird up even as he speaks for the next stage of digestion. Prince doesn't want it to stop, even though he knows that his hungry crop will shortly squeeze the meat inside him further down, into his waiting stomach, a point of no return from which there is no escape.
Sidney's chuckling cheeks flush with pride at Prince's praise. To receive such a compliment from an eagle is truly uplifting, at least for this worshipful waxwing. He also begins to catch on that some of Prince's giggles and spasms follow directly from his own motions. "Oh you like that!" So the prey-bird tries to indulge the eagle by gently raking the crop's dribbling walls with his splinter-sized talons. Similarly the berry-bird's wings, more like fins now due to their aqueous immersion, flap and slap against the carnivore's holding organ. Of course, Sid can't keep this up for long, so he rests after each spurt of squirming.
"Oh..that tickles!" Prince exclaims, in surprise. Involuntarily his crop squeezes in a bit, mushing Sid about a little as the songbird flaps his wings. His crop wiggles a bit from the squirming food-animal inside, the wet slapping of wings and feet flopping and fluttering about in what little space the crop allows just barely audible to the eagle from the outside. It still feels nice, although a little more energetic now. The eagle fluffs his feathers happily, and cranes his neck slightly as he hears Sid speak again.

"At some point... would you... fly with me inside you?" The request is uttered meekly like the last request of a prisoner headed for the gallows.
"Well, you might get your wish. I'm considering another drink soon” Prince replies.
Well, good," chirps the cocooned captive, anticipating the flight back down to the stream. But he shivers slightly at the thought of being doused with snowmelt. Admittedly it's feverishly hot inside Prince's body, so the rinsing might soon be a salvation. The waxwing's inner reckoning of time has been replaced by the lub-dub of the eagle's mighty heart now. After a few such beats, he coaxes, "We spoke before of an arrangement: that I might help you secure more food. I s-suppose that deal is off the table now?"
Prince stretches his wings, briefly considering the Waxwing's proposal. He's not ready to let the little bird go just yet though.

"It's a little late for that kind of talk now!" Prince says. Then he leaps into the air, gliding lazily across the clearing and towards the stream, flaring his feathers and letting aero drag do the work of slowing him down as he descends.
Sid smirks and giggles at Prince's initial, playful balking at parole. "Whoa!" The entombed waxwing tremors and flutters in elation as the swooping eagle rolls port and starboard upon great brown wings. Finally the simmering songbird gets pitched up and back by the eagle's back-winging, as well as the braking flare of his tail-fan. The landing jounces Sid into more laughter. "Splendid! I could feel every flap; the sounds of sinew stretching and bones moving."
After a few seconds, Prince lands heavily near the water's edge. As he looks into the dark water, he considers that he might actually drown Sid if he drinks too much. Reluctantly, he finally decides to at least consider the songbird's idea before condemning him to death. He'd been such a good meal, he deserved at least that much.

"I guess...I suppose I could be interested in an arrangement of sorts.” He says gruffly. “What do you have in mind?"

"You mean you'd actually spare me? Even now?!" Sid is elated. It's like an eleventh hour reprieve for a condemned criminal. The berry-bird's crimes were carelessness and the eye-popping folly of asking to be eaten. Prince's crimes were... well, nothing other than being too nice. After all, predators must kill to survive.
"Well, hm. Not that the thought of becoming a part of you forever isn't incredibly appealing, my Prince!" he flatters jestingly. "But.... well, there may be a few songbirds even sillier than I am that I could persuade to take a ride inside you. Maybe some rodents too. Of course, in their case, they'd probably discover it's a one-way trip."
Prince shakes his head in bewilderment and amusement at Sid's sense of humor. Even now he'd probably sound insane to a member of his own species.

"Heh, don't push your luck too far Sidney. You might get what you wish for!"
Sidney giggles about pushing his luck. "Being here inside you is actually a win-win situation for me," he admits. Fortunately Prince can't see the flustered look of shame and embarrassment etched on the waxwing's visage. "It's a childhood nightmare, yet also something so primal and pleasing. It's indescribably comforting with you, as if I've always belonged to you, and today was just a formality."
"Heh. I haven't heard anyone describe my innards as pleasing before!” Prince laughs.
"Well apparently you've never been swallowed before!" the crop-clenched prey-bird retorts jestingly.
Then he pauses for breath, as he has to do several times while making his desperate case for mercy. "Another option is my grapevine. If my flocking fellows haven't blacklisted me by now, I could consult the rumor mill to discover places where fish are swarming or where other raptors are feasting. I could then alert you so that you can get in on the action."

At this point, Sid might be unaware of any particular dietary preference on Prince's part. For example, the eagle might well prefer live prey, especially creatures who can be gulped down whole, such as mice -- and cedar waxwings.
"Hmm. I do like the idea of an easy meal” Prince muses.
“Like anyone I'd prefer not to work too hard to catch my prey. I also prefer not to work too hard to eat them. Small prey like you that I can swallow without the need to rip to shreds first is nice."
"Well in that case," Sid replies about the eagle's dietary preferences. "Perhaps I can scout out some, uh, volunteers to join you in the ultimate carnivorous bond! Songbirds are often flighty and suspicious. Rodents might be easier to beguile, especially with the promise of a potential once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fly!"
Prince listens then as Sid elaborates on some potential menu options if Prince were to allow him to live.

"Hmm, yes. I am rather fond of rodents" he hums, recalling fond memories of previous feeding experiences. Sid was occupying a space within him that had been shared by many predecessors, and if the eagle had his way, it would be filled by many successors as well.

"You make a good case for survival" Prince continues, weighing possible future meals against the bird lovingly filling his crop now.
Sid ponders the rodent proposal. "Well, I've never tried to coax mice into an eagle's beak before; but the actual scarfing-up part we could leave to you. The pranking and luring part, I could attempt to deliver. Young mice are especially gullible.

"Oh, don't worry about the scarfing bit. I'm quite good at that! More of worry to you should be your current predicament. Most of my guests don't enjoy step two of the digestive process!" Prince says with a slight laugh.
"Oh your meat-destroyed appetite worries me thoroughly!" assures the swallowed songbird. "But it also excites me... thrills me to the core of my being. I know it's foolish, but I feel like I belong with you, beautiful Prince. Or maybe 'to you' is a better description!"
I guess YOU might enjoy it though..." Prince admits, smiling at the irony that the only prey he'd ever considered letting go WANTED to be eaten!
"Yeah, I'm weird enough that I might actually enjoy the grip of your hungry gizzard," Sid confesses. "But getting to spend more time with you is also a fine prize--Whoa!" the waxwing has felt the gurgling lurch as the eagle's crop tries to countermand Prince's gracious postponement of his snack's digestion.
Prince can feel his crop relaxing now, allowing his prey to sink slightly further down. His stomach is ravenously empty, and it lets the eagle know of its needs with loud gurgles, demanding to be filled. He supposes perhaps now he should consider letting Sid out if he wants to follow through on their 'proposal'.
I think maybe your body has desires for me that are different from yours!" Sidney's calls tremulously, his voice more urgent now, as if he knows each syllable might be his last. "Anyway, Prince. I'll accept whatever you decide. Both fates are wonderful for me. You could even surprise me, if you like!"
Prince is taken aback slightly by Sid's continued affection, even as his captor is about to digest him.

"I think...I'll let you out for now" Prince finally decides. He doesn't want the sensation of the Waxwing flailing about in his belly to end, but at the same time, he can always gulp the little bird back down later. In his assessment, the songbird is unlikely to try and escape. He is too attracted to Prince's predatory majesty, to grateful for the opportunity simply to be near him to give it up. Besides, the fruits of a combined hunting effort could far outweigh any temporary pleasure the raptor receives from simply devouring the Waxwing on the spot.
Prince's pronouncement of acquittal floods relief through Sid's suspenseful spirit. Saved! In truth the meaty morsel's euphoria at this astonishing deliverance is tempered by the slightest tinge of disappointment over not experiencing personally the very fate that others of his kind, as well as countless scurrying mammals, have met in the belly of a golden eagle.

"I'm glad I'm swaying you toward leniency!” he says.
“I'd probably change my mind in a big hurry about how wonderful you are inside if your hunger took me down deeper into your belly! Not that I'm not plenty curious... but perhaps that's a delve to save for another day!"

Against his instincts, Prince angles his neck downwards, contracting the muscles in his crop to force the prey back up. His throat muscles contract once again, although this time it’s forceful and unnatural, against the direction evolution has designed his alimentary passage for. Yet still, the motion continues as Prince hacks the poor Waxwing up, (somewhat violently) squeezing him from his crop, back up the curve of his neck and into the grasp of his predatory beak. 'hluck-hlock-hluk!'
Now Sidney braces himself as the host body around him prepares to disgorge the lucky prey-item. The berry-gobbler cooperates as best he can with Prince's heroic effort, which mainly consists of balling himself up as tightly as his exhausted muscles allow. A series of heaving pulsations launches Sid upward on a rocket ride that only a living, organic machine can deliver! A convulsing carnivore: granting clemency to the contrite songbird!
Sid's precautionary posture and his resilient body help him endure the upheaval, rising in inverse-peristaltic violence, at last vomited back into salvation. He finds himself in the (relative!) safety of Prince's splendidly sculptured maw. "You're like a work of art," he sputters.

As Prince tastes the little bird again (interspersed with his own flavors from previous meals ) he is filled with the urge to savagely swallow Sid back down, but he countermands himself, instead allowing the songbird to flop listlessly from his beak to hit the ground with a soft, wet splat. Strings of drool and gullet slime glisten in arcs between Prince's mouth and Sid's eagle-soaked body for a split second before Prince shakes his head and closes his beak, severing them and leaving Sid sitting in his own wet pool of eagle juice.
"Whoa!" With a splat to the riverbank, the songbird's deliverance is complete, though the wind is knocked out of him.
It takes longer for Sidney to recover than Prince. But at last the sputtering yellow bird manages to partly fold his sopping wings. With great effort he heaves himself upright, breathing heavily while sliminess dribbles slowly down his body. He still sways dizzily from his harrowing ordeal. "Gosh! That must have been hard for you -- on so many levels!" Sid sympathizes. "You have spared me from the edicts of the natural order! You, Prince, are a noble spirit beyond compare. From the bottom of my heart: Thank you!"
Sidney lolls his wings until the tips drag on the ground. Looking down at his mucus-slathered body, he chuckles. He's covered in the stuff, along with other unidentifiable, pre-digestive goop. "I was nearly eagle chow!" he rejoices wondrously. "And yet here I am, alive!" He looks up at the eagle. "I am in your debt, sir, and will endeavor to repay it!"

Prince lets Sid babble on excitedly for a moment, smiling to himself as the songbird heavily heaps on the praise. Prince, like many apex predators has a bit of a (well deserved) ego, and although he'd never admit it, he enjoys the respect and adoration the berry-eater has for him.

"Well, you might still end up as eagle chow!" Prince says, half jokingly, half seriously. Sid was a delicious snack, and Prince has to admit that if their arrangement fell through, the charming (and delicious) little songbird would be first on the menu. He'd also reveled in close contact with a willing meal in a different way than a simple feeding. It had an intimacy to it that he enjoyed, and hadn't expected. With luck, perhaps Sid would want to try it again some time.
At Prince's warning, Sid nods quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. "Oh I know!" he drawls dreamily. The swaying songbird still seems spellbound by the eagle looming over him as if the warning was more of a promise of paradise.
"Ohhhh!" he enthuses finally. "Just what a ride that was! A thing I could never have conceived. It is as if I'm reborn: hatched again from an egg of a new kind. A quite carnivorous kind!" He chuckles.
"Hmmmh, you sure made a tasty snack!" the eagle observes.

"I'm glad you enjoyed me; I know it had to go against every bone in your body to give me back to the world. Even if it's only a temporary reprieve."

"Perhaps later, when you feel more yourself you could experience that ride again” the eagle suggests casually.
At Prince's sudden proposal, Sidney brightens at once, some of his fatigue momentarily forgotten. "Oh! Y-yes I would!" The spared spelunker's eagerness to be swallowed again, especially so soon, confirms just how mental he is.

Bedraggled beyond belief, the upchucked avian gapes a grin up at his redeemer. "I know you must soon feed, my friend. If I may call you that. But I'm so very tired; if I'd stayed inside you much longer, I probably would have drifted off to sleep." And likely never woken up, he refrains from adding. "Even if my wings were dry and preened, I doubt I could fly right now. I suppose a rinse in the stream might restore my plumage and flight feathers. But I'd probably need a nap before attempting any recon and baiting for you."
“Oh, I expected as much" Prince says nonchalantly, running two talons through slimy feathers in a gentle attempt to straighten them.

"Huh...you need a bath" he observes, licking the edge of his beak and absentmindedly swallowing some of the slime and feathers that had accumulated there after relinquishing his prey.
Sidney laughs nervously as Prince's scary talons gently comb the his oozing feathers. The wicked claws transfix him for several breaths. The rescued percher shivers while ogling Prince's huge umber bulk. Perhaps the waxwing wonders whether someday the puny bird's marrow and meat will become part of the raptor's splendid fighting form.
"In a way, thanks to you, I had the most luxurious bath I could ever devise! It was certainly very, very warm! He says, staggering forward to try to hug the legs and underbelly of his new avian idol. Prince might prefer no such embrace given the prey's unsavory condition.
"Oh no you don't, not like that you crazy bird!" Prince cries suddenly, reaching down and picking Sid up with his beak before he can reach the eagle's meticulously clean feathers.

"If you're gonna do that you need a bath first" he says, voice muffled from Sid's feathers in his mouth. Then he drops the Waxwing in the shallows, in enough water for him to bathe, but not so much that he's swimming.
"Ack!" exclaims Sidney as he's plucked up by Prince's perilous mandibles. He has time only for a chirp of surprise as he plops back down with a splash into the stalled shallows. "Ahhh!" he gasps at the freezing water.

As Sid washes himself off in the cold water, Prince gulps down a few sips himself, to distract his belly for a while. He'd give the songbird a chance to recuperate after his ordeal before asking him to bait any prey. Perhaps he'd sleep too, to pass the time.
Momentarily revived by the cold, the disheveled waxwing does his best to bathe and rinse. But his usual motions to dunk, shake and fling water from his plumage are sluggish, lacking their full effect. Perhaps it will suffice.

Being petite in body, Sidney can't stand the chill for long; so he crawls his way back onto the sun-warmed stones, sprawling beak-first into a pathetic heap of soggy feathers.
"Oh...sorry" Prince says, realizing just how much his feeding had taxed the small bird as he watched Sid struggle back to shore.
"Ugh," he mumbles. "Just don't let anything else eat me for a while." Nearly immobile except for his breathing, Sid might fall asleep in moments.

"I won't." he promises in response to the Waxwing's request. Seeing the small bird beginning to doze off, he scoops Sid up in his talons and takes to the air, flying a short ways before landing on a secluded ledge, a perfect place to sleep in private. Gently, Prince lays the almost limp songbird on the ground, and lies down himself to sleep, enveloping the Sid in a sea of golden-brown feathers. He closes his eyes, taking an odd satisfaction from the sensation of a small, living, breathing body under his protection as he slowly drifts off to sleep.
Due to the startling variety of changes today in Sid's temperature and environment, his overspent body is running on little more than the fumes of his adrenalin. In fact he likely has no adrenalin left, which might explain his profound grogginess. Accordingly, his delirious brain reels with vertigo as Prince compassionately flies him to safety and seclusion. Sidney would surely thank the kind eagle if only the waxwing could lift the suddenly immense weight of his eyelids.

Instead, like a splintered sailing ship, the tatters of the little chirper's consciousness sink beneath the waves of his torpor. At once he submerges into the pelagic currents of dreams, which veer briefly into a nightmare of freezing due to evaporation from his wet plumage.

But Prince's thoughtful warmth swiftly swaddles Sidney. This might well have saved the fragile waxwing from hypothermia due to the nippiness of early spring.

So at last the silly songbird's mind settles into happy dreams, reminiscent of his times of utter luxury when brooded by his parents.