SEVEN OVERALL
 
by Bitter
 
 
It was a room of such beauty that it must have been one of the chambers of Heaven. Yet this bedroom was not divine; exquisite, but not divine. Its existence, however awe-inspiring, was explicable. Adrift above the clouds that hung in the skies of the Mystic Wilds, there was an island called Arielanei. Arielanei was an island by its purest definition: a mass of land well and truly removed from all others, not merely a sunken mountain but its own continental entity. Kept afloat by ancient magics, Arielanei rode the winds like a raft on sea-currents, passing over the Wilds below with apparent disinterest. Arielanei was a world set apart, a place of beauty and wonder above a place of beauty and wonder. It is no wonder, then, that this bed-chamber would be so finely made. Set at the border of one of the grand towers that sat at the center of Arielanei, it was where some of the creatures who called themselves the Winged Ones would lay themselves to rest. For these highest of fey, only the best would suffice.
 
The bed, the central figure of the room, was by far the largest thing within it. It dwarfed anything that a human might sleep on, even in their most extravagant of excesses, for it was not designed for a single Winged One. The Winged Ones were intensely social; to sleep alone was unheard of. The bed was made for many; down pillows of all sizes bedecked its borders, threatening to fall with only the slightest disturbance. The head of the bed, pressed against the wall, was made of wrought iron in an intricate vine pattern, but plated with gold to give beauty to its strength. Four posts at each corner of the bed held up thick curtains, presently tied around each post but potentially unfurled to keep out the morning sun. Each post ended in a foot that was as well-crafted as the head-board, and in the same style. What space in the room that was not taken up by the bed itself was filled with other devices of relaxation: every ten feet or so along the wall, there was a chair made of carved wood and padded with velvet cushions of the highest quality. For every third chair, there was a small, circular table, on which to place drinks or whatever else needed a perch. From the ceiling, just above head-level, there hung lanterns made of iron and glass, already burning, having been lit in advance by servants in expectation of their masters' arrival. In one corner of the room was a rack of wine-bottles, and beside it a cupboard of glasses. Through the window (whose frame was also gilt), the orange light of a setting sun cast another layer of gold upon everything. It was the end of the day, and the chamber's occupants were about to arrive.
 
The fey who made this room their roost were Winged Ones, of a specific exalted caste. To be a Winged One in Arielanei was an aristocracy unto itself; better to be one of them than to be among the lesser fey who served as their food, but these Winged Ones were high even among their race. They were not paper-pushers, the bureaucrats who saw to it that the matters of Arielanei were handled at the proper time and place, nor were they adventurers, the kind who sullied themselves by flying down to the world below and taking what Arielanei needed to that it could not provide for itself. Nor even were these fey royals, the high leaders and socialites whose idleness was so deeply reviled. The Winged Ones who slept in this chamber were builders, the ones who saw to the maintenance of Arielanei. Day after day, they hovered about the towers, inspecting the ancient stone for cracks and faults and replacing the worn and eroded walls with new, young material brought up by the world below. They were symbols of the health of Arielanei, heroes in a sense. None in all of Arielanei-- not even among the lesser fey-- would begrudge them their comfort, for theirs was the most important work.
 
But their work was long over, at least for today. The beginning of the sky's shift from sapphire blue to ruby red had heralded the end of the day's labor; the builders had been off-duty for quite a while. They had returned to their own home tower, gone to the bath-chambers and scrubbed the day's soot and dust off of each other with fragrant soaps and clear water that was heated and piped up from below. Now each of them, one by one and seven overall, passed through the bed-chamber door, which was so large that not one of them had to fold her white-feathered wings to pass through. Each was naked; they had toweled off at the baths and given their hair time to dry. Their clothing had been whisked away to the laundry by servants, and for reasons that will become clear in time the Winged Ones had no use for bedclothes. The first to enter was a blonde, a sleepy-eyed girl who, rather than heading for the bed as her tired countenance would suggest, took a chair from the wall and placed it near one of the circular tables. There was a woven bowl full of small, date-like fruits on the table; without so much as a glance toward it the yellow-haired fey looped her fingers around several of them and slid them between her lips, lidding her eyes at the way the juicy flesh caved under her teeth and released its sweet, tangy flavors. The second Winged One to pass into the chamber followed the blonde to her seat, but did not take a chair of her own. Instead, the silver-haired fey (a color whose human connotations with regards to age should be ignored; she was, if anything, the youngest-looking of all the women present) first kneaded her thumbs into the blonde's shoulders, then traced a path down the whole of the other woman's front, rolling over the curves of her breasts and across the ridges of her abdominal muscles and along her powerful thighs, until at last she reached her knees. As her white-haired lover took a grip on her knees and drew them apart, the blonde could feign disinterest no longer. With her sapphire eyes, the blond looked down at the other angel, whose twin rubies were looking up, begging permission. With a subtle smile and a nod, the blonde gave it; matching her partner's languidness, the albino reached forward, took the blonde's ass in her hands, and drew her toward the edge of her chair. Gently, she leaned in, let her tongue's tip pass through her lips, and slowly drew a wet trail up the blonde's slit.
 
"Pachi and Houra, already goin' at it," said the third fey to arrive. She was standing at the wine-rack, holding a green bottle whose contents were as cherry-red as the fey's hair.
 
"Like you're one to talk," said the woman next to her. Her features had a striking similarity to the red-haired girl's; not enough to be identical, but close enough to suggest kinship, if the fey cared about such things. But unlike the crimson fey, her features were a cool blue, hair and eyes both.
 
The fifth arrival, whose hair was a muddy red, remarked, "Yeah, you remember the first night Ilia was with us, after work? First thing she said: 'Is this when we fuck?'"
 
As the blue-haired fey laughed at her, Ilia said, "That's not fair and you know it, Alia! I seem to recall the first thing out of Melin's mouth being 'Yes, this IS when we fuck.'".
 
"No, no, no, not like that," said Melin. "It goes like this: yyyyyesssssss, this iiiiiiiiis when we... fffffffu-ck." As she rolled the syllables off of her tongue, the blue-haired fey drew up to Ilia, pinched her nipples between her fingertips, and entrapped her in a kiss so passionate that Alia reddened despite her carnal familiarity with both of them. When they finally disengaged, Ilia giggled between gasps for air. As though reluctant to lose the touch of Melin's body, Ilia unwrapped her arms from the blue-haired fey's body, took up her wine bottle from the counter, and made for the bed. Melin and Alia followed her, eager to begin the night's celebration of the end of work. As she reached the bedside, Ilia stopped, as she always did, to run her feet through the fur carpet that ran the breadth of the bed and kept warm feet from the cold floor in the mornings.
 
"You know, Ilia, one of these days I think something furry's going to eat you," said Melin, pointedly standing with her legs open and baring her unshaven pubis.
 
"Mmmm, I think tonight I'd rather eat something furry," Ilia replied as she set her wine atop a table and laid down on the bed, her wings folded beneath her. Melin playfully pounced on top of her, at first laying symmetrically with her and then slowly working her way upright until she was straddling Ilia's face and grasping the railing of the headboards. Her wings fluttered as Ilia began her work at Melin's womanhood-- her reactions had always been explosive, and tonight, it seemed, would be no different. As Ilia teased the rim of Melin's slit, she felt someone-- Alia, she knew, though she didn't see her directly-- grab her ankle and lift it up slightly. Skin brushed across skin as Alia aligned herself; eventually, she and Ilia were like interlocked scissors. Since Ilia was focused on Melin, Alia took the lead and began to grind against her, sending the first sparks of pleasure through the two of them. With Ilia now lapping in earnest at Melin's womanhood and Alia and Ilia trading pussy-kisses, all three were being pleased in some way.
 
That left only the pair that entered last. Though they were the two last to enter the room, they were the first to reach the bed; unlike the preceding trio, they did not dally at the wine-rack. The sixth, the tallest of all of them and topped with deep, oceanic blue hair, led the seventh and final fey into the room by the hand. The blonde needed no direction; she knew the room well, and had returned to it often. Their hands were clasped together for the joy of it, for the electrifying contact with the skin of a lover, because they could not bear to be parted from one another. As Pachi and Houra took their respective places on and near the chair and Ilia, Alia, and Melin engaged in their ritual foreplay, the final arrivals, hand in hand, went to the bed. Unlike the trio at the wine, these two had no need of overtures. Their foreplay had begun at the very start of the day, as the first to awake roused the other with her stirring. From that moment onward, it was as though they were meant only to bring pleasure to one another. Of course, some pleasures are subtler than others. There was the optimistic pleasure of washing away the results of a scene quite like the one now playing out in the morning's shower, the two of them cleaning each other in preparation for the day's work. There was the stabilizing pleasure of a reliable companion, a partner who knew their role and played it well, bolstered by the expectation of equal competence and trust. And then there were the innumerable flittering pleasures of momentary distractions: glances held too long as their eyes met, inane comments rendered beautiful by a familiar voice, idle observations made interesting by the simple fact that they were shared with someone so important. It all led to this moment, when at last they could cast aside their inhibitions and let themselves be swept together by the gravity between their hearts.
 
Though second through the door, the blonde was first to take her place; she lifted her legs onto the mattress and came to rest in a kneel. Never detaching from the blonde fey, the blue-haired one took a similar stance, her knees almost touching the blonde's. In the inverse of Houra's overtures, touching top to bottom, the blue-haired fey gently kneaded her lover's tummy, playfully displacing her insides just slightly before moving upward with delicious slowness. The blue-haired fey ran her thumbs over the blonde's lower ribs, taking in the shift from pliability to resistance, then moved back into a realm of softness as she took hold of the other fey's breasts, adding the undulations of her kneading fingers to the heaving breaths that rocked them. Venturing higher still, the blue-haired fey's hands slunk over the blonde's collar bone, up the sides of her neck, and finally came to rest beneath the woman's jaws. Her hold thus established, the blue-haired fey leaned in, prolonging the anticipation of the moment for as long as it was possible, tormenting both herself and her lover with the unbearable delay, until finally her lips closed over the blonde's and they shared the torrid humidity of their mouths with one another. That single connection, that one point of contact, was enough to communicate all the love they had for each other. It was as though, through that kiss, they flowed into one another, becoming more and more a single, perfect whole.
 
The reality of breath demanded that they part. As they pulled away, as the blonde's blue eyes looked into the blue-haired fey's opalescent ones, some message passed between them, silent to the point of subliminality. Its only expression, a faint and confused gesture toward its true meaning, was the whispered word, "Erinae?" from the blonde's lips, and its reply from Erinae, "Parri..." What had crossed through both of their hearts could find no barer expression than in their names. Words having proven useless, the concept took its shape within their bodies. Erinae, the imposing blue-haired fey, became more so as her wings unfurled, slowly assuming their full span and casting the threesome on the other side of the bed into shadow. Meanwhile, Parri's wings did just the opposite: they folded in on themselves, tightened up and tucked in just below her head. Though Parri watched in awe as Erinae made her silent proclamation, she soon found no reason to keep her eyes open. Slowly, she lidded her eyes, enveloping the smiling, caring face of her lover in twin tracts of darkness. Parri had no need for vision now; all was entrusted to Erinae. Her shoulders rolled inward, pressing her modest breasts against one another with her arms. Though Parri's hands folded over her womanhood, she made no move to touch herself. For now, she only wished to be thinner, slenderer, better shaped for what was to come. She felt Erinae's hands, still gripping her at the jaws, exert a different spectrum of pressures as the arms they ended bent double. Erinae pulled herself closer to Parri, down until she could smell the floral scent still lingering in her lover's blonde hair. Unable and unwilling to resist her body's impulse any longer, Erinae opened her mouth and let her jaws slip around the top of Parri's head.
 
Parri remained almost perfectly still, even as Erinae began to devour her. Besides the unstoppable rhythms of her breathing and heartbeat, the only motion in her body was a trembling vibration, an erotic shiver that betrayed the maelstrom of feeling within her. The whirlwind spun even tighter and faster within Parri's chest as she felt Erinae's tongue lapping over her forehead and lower. Her wingtips were soon pinned under Erinae's upper lip; with that constraint she truly became helpless. Compounding that sensation was a pressure against her jaws; Erinae gently but forcefully guided her up and to the side, pushing the smaller fey into her mouth. There was a brief resistance as Parri met the entrance to Erinae's throat, but a reflexive relaxation allowed her to continue on. When her old hold was no longer useful, Erinae's hands drifted lower, traced the curves of Parri's neck before rolling out to her shoulders. Compressing them still more, Erinae gave a pull and forced Parri further in. Saliva squelched around Parri's face and muscle wrapped all around her, but Erinae did not yet have enough of a hold. Stretching her lips still further, yawning even wider, she wrapped around Parri's shoulders. But still this was not enough. Erinae moved her hands down to Parri's elbows, waited just a moment to gather her strength (though by the beatific look on her face, one would never have guessed that she was steeling herself), and in a single shove drove Parri into herself up to her nipples. These Erinae took with an unassisted gulp; enough of Parri lay within her now that her throat could swallow her all on its own.
 
The other fey took notice of what was transpiring, of course. However, they did nothing to stop it. The magnetism that had drawn Erinae and Parri to each other was running through each of them. Alia had the clearest view of it, and was most powerfully affected; she whispered, "Oh, oh... they're actually doing it," in a reverential tone, as if worried that she might shatter the scene with too much noise. Melin, too, normally so loud, was painfully quiet. She was bent over, twisted so she could watch the pair on the other side of the bed, desperately clutching the headboard and grinding her hips against Ilia's tongue. Despite her vigilance, a few words escaped her lips in a hiss: "Fuck yes, fuck yes! Take her, oh, take her, take her!" Ilia, sandwiched between her two lovers, could not see what they did but felt, through the flood of warmth and wetness that flowed out of them, the same passion as they did. Though detached from that chain of lust, Pachi and Houra were nevertheless quite engaged. As Erinae grabbed Parri by the waist and lifted her until her body was straight up into the air, Pachi likewise reached down and curled her fingers into Houra's hair. She needed, terribly, to have something drawn out of her, to feel lips sucking the tension out of her sex. Houra, like Ilia, was blind to what her lover saw but well compensated by the abundant juices which Pachi yielded. With Pachi clutching her head to her pussy, Houra's hands were free; these she put to use in her own pleasure, tending to her own insatiable needs.
 
Pulling with her entire body, Erinae sucked gently at Parri. Gravity, the force their wings were meant to defeat, was Erinae's ally in taking down Parri. She barely even swallowed; she simply relaxed her throat and let Parri's flesh and feathers sink deeper. Erinae's tongue rippled over Parri's skin, tasting every inch of her clean, smooth skin before it was released to the throat. The waggling licks strayed lower and lower on Parri's body as she sank, teasingly hinting at what was to come. Parri's ass, tightened by her work though it was, was nevertheless an obstacle, but one that Erinae was happy to overcome. She chewed at it, kneaded down the thin layer of nerves, and delighted in the feel of the taut muscles with it squeezing and clenching in patterns controlled only by the pleasure that the biting drew out of Parri. At last, Erinae had worked her lover low enough for her tongue to reach Parri's womanhood. Though Erinae paused for a moment after laying her tongue across the length of Parri's slit, it was only to rest, and not to torment. The very instant she had strength enough to do so, Erinae slipped her tongue into Parri's folds and devoured her innermost flavors, as much to please Parri as herself. Parri coiled and writhed at the attention, sending delicious sensations through Erinae's body as it struggled to stay wrapped around the other fey. Instinct tightened Erinae's throat, trying to take the other fey further in, but passion, along with Erinae's hands, kept it at bay: Erinae held onto Parri's legs at the knees, keeping her desperate, heaving gulps from making headway on Parri. But despite an abundance of time, Erinae worked as though they had only an instant to stay conjoined like this. Her tongue rolled within Parri's womanhood, her throat ground against Parri's chest. Parri's hips bucked in counterpoint, humping against Erinae's tongue to let it drive deeper and deeper. Reflexively, Erinae's hips mirrored Parri's; as the winged one's body worked harder and harder to overcome the resistance it had encountered, the sucking pulls crept into more and more of Erinae's body, until her whole being was thrashing in the attempts to swallow up Parri. At last there came a breaking point: Parri could withstand the lashing of her lover's tongue no more, and her juices overflowed into Erinae's mouth. Simultaneously, as if harmonious, Pachi's grasp on Houra's hair became tense and her own slit gushed out its climax.
 
Tasting her lover's satisfaction, Erinae loosed her grip on Parri's legs. Her next greedy swallow took in the whole of Parri's waist-parts: her sex, her ass, her hips, all of it slurped down to become a single, gorgeous bulge in Erinae's throat. Her belly was widening as Parri moved into it, her body's distension slowly assuming a more natural form. Erinae swallowed again, slowly and luridly, and Parri's body drifted downward in a smooth motion. The violence was over, temporarily; it had given way to a quiet time, for recuperating and preparation. The other fey, too, seemed to follow the same pattern. The threesome on the other end of the bed slowed, as if unwilling to upstage the display on the other side, and Houra gently led Pachi over to the bed, where they alighted at its head to watch Parri's knees disappear into Erinae. Idly, Pachi laid her hand on Houra's sex and worked at it with her fingertips, freeing the other fey from all exertion, so she could simply observe and enjoy the sights. While letting out little coos of "Oooh... oooh...", Houra shrugged her shoulders back and rolled her arms over the headboard. She looked to Melin, her headboard-cousin, who, between "Mmmph"ing groans and hip-thrusts against Ilia's face, locked eyes with Houra and wordlessly shared their appreciation. But the contact was fleeting, lest their conversation distract them from the very spectacle whose enjoyment they discussed. Together, they watched as Parri's toes wiggled on the ends of her feet, danced on Erinae's lips, and finally slipped inside. Erinae took a last powerful gulp, and then there was no more for her mouth to do-- Parri was entrusted to the deeper depths of Erinae's body.
 
But despite no longer needing to focus on the strenuous task of devouring Parri, Erinae paid no attention to the other fey on the bed. She and Parri were still apart from the others, united to the exclusion of all else. It was as though the other five did not exist, as if the chamber contained only Erinae, with her chamber containing Parri. Erinae's belly swelled out incredibly, her skin stretched taut around the other winged one. Parri's wings might have stretched Erinae to breaking if they unfurled, but there was so much tension upon them that it would have been impossible, had she even tried. Erinae's flesh was so tightly wrapped around Parri that the other fey could see all the details of her body, as seen from behind, down to the feathers in her pressed-flat wings. The bed-cushions strained under their combined weight; the mattress curved down into a nest for the both of them. The crater was ever-changing, morphing wildly as Parri shifted within Erinae. Parri herself was fidgeting slightly (the body does not take well to containment, no matter how willingly inflicted), and Erinae was massaging her through her own stretched skin, but by far the majority of the motion came from Erinae's stomach itself. It pulsated around Parri, sending up pleasant burbles as the thick, viscous acids it was secreting played with the rare pockets of air that had entered with Parri. The churning and gurgling left no question as to what was to come: Parri's digestion had begun.
 
The beginning of Erinae and Parri's final act of unification also signaled the beginning of a renewed intensity in the other fey. Pachi sidled underneath Houra until the silver-haired fey was sitting on her lap; with one hand, she continued to dig at Houra's slit, and with the other, she squeezed at one of Houra's breasts. Supporting herself with one hand, Houra gave the necessary attentions to the other breast with her other hand. The threesome had never stopped-- there was nothing to change but the tempo; their grindings became more fervent, ever quicker and rougher. In time with the trio's rising heat, Erinae's stomach squeezed harder and faster at its contents. To say that Erinae watched as it did so would suggest a distance that she did not possess. If anything, the rest of her was detached from her stomach, which was her core, where her lover lay. But again, to say that Parri lay within Erinae would imply a passivity that was not present. Erinae's digestive juices tingled and prickled at her skin. They did not tear at her; instead, they invited her to dissolve within her lover, to become fluid, to become something more malleable, easier to receive. Parri had no other purpose in mind. She squirmed inside of Erinae, rubbing herself against the chamber walls to better cover herself in the oozing fluids, to offer more of her flesh to be broken down. Hungrily accepting all that was offered and more, Erinae's stomach churned all around Parri, working ever more acids into her body.
 
The rippled texture in Erinae's belly-skin from Parri's feathers began to smooth. These thinnest parts of her were the first to succumb to the ravages of digestion. As her wings slid away from her, ground away by the stomach's churning, Parri arched her back what little she could and let out an audible, if muffled, "Haaaoo!" But it was not a cry of pain or despair. It was a low-pitched, lusty cry, born of arousal, not of anguish. Parri's wings' nerves had loosed an erotic scream that she could not, would never dream of containing. The feeling that sparked it, the incredible love that drove her to give her all, she had no other choice but to share it. The sound of it lit a fire inside of Alia, causing her to fixate on Parri's shape as the flame's tendrils curled out from her womanhood. Parri's back was visible now, her wings completely gone, but her form was not entirely distinct. It changed subtly with every crushing squeeze of Erinae's stomach, softening. Alia's breath caught in her throat, stifling a moan into a strained "Hgk--nnnnnnhh!" Alia clutched at Ilia's leg as if it were the only thing binding her to the world and flooded their intersected valleys with come. The groan drifted through Erinae's mind, vaguely mirroring and intensifying her own experience. The mere sight of Parri's softening was enough to drive Alia to orgasm; how much greater it was for Erinae, then, who could feel her stomach subtly altering Parri's shape with every compression! The slurps and squishes were louder than ever, compounded by the increasingly fluid contents of Erinae's stomach. Parri's skin was worn through; the acids were working through the fibers of her muscles, cracking apart the minerals in her bones. Parri only moved imperceptibly, an errant muscular twitch here and there the only sign of her ongoing perceptions. In time, even those slipped away.
 
Erinae cradled her belly, which was now of a more familiar gravid shape, as though Parri were still whole within. She and she alone could sense the spark of consciousness that still remained in the thick slurry that was sliding through her intestines with exquisite deliberateness. It was not reluctance that slowed the process, but rather a desire, on the part of both the digester and the digested, to become more whole by conjoining completely. Not one drop of Parri's body would be allowed to pass into Erinae's spark, the furnace that lay at the end of her intestines and burned whatever fell into it. Instead, Erinae's viscera churned slowly, soaking up every last fiber that could be gleaned from the fluid mass. No longer an active participant, Erinae leaned back on her palms and watched her distended belly writhe. Erinae's innards were a thing apart from her now, not an obstacle but a step between her and her beloved. She could feel Parri's essence slipping into her blood, dripping into her own mind as the nutrients flowed through her body. Parri was close and becoming closer, oozing into Erinae through the medium of her digestion. In ever-quickening intervals, Erinae's body went taut, tightened by internal pleasures. Erinae was so tense with arousal that she couldn't so much as tilt her head downward to watch her abdomen churn and flatten; instead, her sight was locked toward the ceiling's golden inlay, which seemed dull and without luster compared to the twinkling sensation of Parri's body suffusing her own. Delightful heat built within her; it pounded in her heart, swelled in her burgeoning breasts, even crawled out to the tips of her feathers. Even as Erinae's belly became lighter, the weight of Parri's love put its own pressure on Erinae's womanhood. She howled her pleasure to the room, and all the others still in the throes of their own mounting arousal echoed it. She cried out again, louder, as the last little lump in her belly squished flat. Then, she let out one final scream as that peristaltic tension rippled through all the rest of her in orgasmic waves. As if riding the same wave of energy, Melin, Ilia, and Houra each came after their own idiom-- Melin loud and with vulgarities, Ilia with equal force, and Houra softly and modestly. But their orgasms were mere imitations of the absolute pleasure that fueled Erinae's beautiful, trailing note.
 
Erinae's eyes closed gently as the warm weight of afterglow fell over her. Like a drifting feather, she curled down toward the mattress and unfurled her legs. The bedsprings squeaked as the other fey made their way across the sheets to Erinae. One by one they laid themselves atop her outspread wings, prompting her to open her eyes as if awakening. The others were a part of her world once more, and she a part of theirs. After such an ordeal, the simple weight of a friendly body had a comforting stability. There were no more lecherous touches and lusty grindings; only tight hugs and playful cuddles. The five who had witnessed Erinae and Parri's consummation jostled subtly for the best position, each wanting to be closest to the center. In time, tiredness outstripped competition, and the six winged fey drifted into a richly satisfied slumber in turn. But even if they were now only six in body, in spirit, in beauty, and in love, they remained seven overall.
 
 
***
 
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:
 
This story completes my goal of writing an oral vore story in every sex configuration. I'd done F/F before, but in every case it was unbirth.
 
I really wanted to put the fact that vore can be a sort of unconscious thing, a tic of sorts to the fey. In the Wilds, vore is something that just happens-- either because it's nature and that's how predator and prey works, or it's in civilization and vore is some bizarre expression of ultimate love. I'm not sure how well I carried it, and unfortunately I got caught up in matching the story to the picture that inspired it. As a result, I didn't spend nearly so much time developing the relationship between Erinae and Parri as I should have. Unfortunately, by the time I realized the error the story was already 80% complete, and I wasn't willing to throw out all that work, so I used the bit about their foreplay starting when they woke up as a work-around.
 
This story really took way too long to go from start to finish (in real-world development time, that is). I need to be snappier in the future.