She keeps kissing his slacked mouth, sucking on his lower lip or coaxing his mouth into responding or trying to tangle his tongue with her own. She swallows his moans and pleads, not wanting to stop kissing him, not wanting to pull away.

She keeps stroking him, up and down, up and down, utterly enraptured by his reaction. Her other arm wraps around his shoulders for support, fingers playing with the feathers at the juncture of his wings. But there's only so much, so much she can stand to tease him. She adjusts herself in his lap, straddling him on either side. Another kiss and she lowers herself on top of him, groaning at how hot and hard and velvety soft he feels inside of her.

Inside of her. Her eyes go wide and she stops mid-thrust. The birth control she found at the clinic might be effective, but she won't take any chances. Not a one. "Condom. We need a condom."