The Wedding
The Wedding 2011 Gren Drake
Va Mawtne arrives at her wedding prepared to meet her surprisingly upper class future husband, but she can't help but wonder why he's marrying someone so far below his social status. (6300 words)
The dressing room was a mid-sized chamber located below the cathedral and was just large enough for Va Mawtne to spread her wings, the tips of which touched the walls. Its location was only proper especially in the Spire Temple, the largest temple complex in northern Menota. It possessed an unparalleled view of the surrounding countryside, a pleasant area of rolling hills, albeit not as close to the mountains as one might like. This view was available because the cathedral was at the very peak of the Spire, close indeed to the goddess, which left a lot of room below it for other things.
Va Mawtne could see nothing of this countryside, at least not just then. The pair of servants helping her into her high-formal kit had already fixed the veil over her face, but had yet to arrange it; she could barely see past the end of her snout. Most of the kit was already fixed to her, awaiting its final arrangement. A single tray near her feet held what jewelry remained to be attached to her. From what she'd felt already, the reminder would mostly be the rings, both regular and the symbolic sharpened finger-guards for her left hand. They were to fend off any demons or fell spirits that tried to invade the wedding.
Not that anyone seriously believed demons were going to show up in the midst of her wedding, but it was a tradition and thus not to be denied. As part of said tradition, the guards were made of lowly bronze, but no tradition said they couldn't be inlaid with precious gems.
She doubted they'd gotten to putting the spar-bands on her wings yet, either, though her wings were so tired from being held out continuously for grooming and dying that she wasn't sure she'd have noticed. They were simple bands that would clip around her wing-spar with a narrow gap to keep from damaging her precious and delicate wing membranes. They were also small enough that her family could afford to have them all made from gold.
Even as she thought about the jewelry to come, the servants were slipping the tail-rings onto her. Each was slid up her tail until it was snug, than a latch was used to tighten them to keep them in place. This draw a wince from Va Mawtne every time and several broke through her hide to stain her fur with blood that was quickly wiped and dyed away. Anticipation made this no more pleasant; she tried to let it slip from her mind between each so at least she wouldnt't have to think about the upcoming pain. Due to their larger size, most of the tail-rings were silver, but a few of the smallest were gold-plated.
A voice echoed down the stairs, preceding its owner. Moments later her mother, Va Velati, entered into the room.
"One is not to dawdle! Gowns are to be emplaced before ceremonies begin; before half an hour is to be completed." Va Velati was formidable despite her family being only in the middle ranks; some said they were only in the middle ranks because of her.
A shudder ran through Va Mawtne, only in part because of her mother's tone. No doubt the servants would be scolded for sloth later, but for the moment all Va Mawtne could think about was that her wedding would begin in half an hour.
First, though, the servants needed to finish getting her kit on. Then she'd be making the trip up those stairs wearing more than her own weight in jewelry, much of it borrowed from near branches of the family.
"Otherwise, otherwise!" she could hear her mother shout as the servants were slipping the finger-guards over her fingers. "Some things go on other fingers than has been done!" The guards were pulled off forcefully enough to take some of the fur from Va Mawtne's fingers with them before being put back on, thankfully covering up the pulled fur.
It would be the first time in her life that Va Mawtne was glad she would be expected to walk. Entering the presence of the goddess was done humbly, on foot. Flying would suggest one considered themselves above the goddess, and for those who didn't actually believe in Her, was also strongly against tradition. No one flew in the cathedral, despite its vaulted ceiling. Just as well, really. Va Mawtne doubted she could fly with the full-formal kit on and being forced to walk when one was allowed to fly was the height of embarrassment.
Then she would finally get to meet her husband to be. She hoped he was handsome, but the grapevine had it that he was from the Saezuthawvi family and they were ranked notably higher and were rather more wealthy than her own family, even the upper ranking of it. That he was deigning to marry her suggested there was something wrong with him.
Many an hour she had wiled away wondering if she'd prefer a mental or a physical disability. Mere ugliness wouldn't be enough--the improved family prospects would draw suitors from higher ranks than her own. A mental disability would mean that she could mostly ignore him outside the bedroom; his own family would provide any nursemaid necessary. A physical disability, though, would mean she'd feel more married and could have respectable company.
"Work is to be hurried when time before deadlines is running out!" Despite her mother's cloth boots, Ve Velati's footsteps were quite audible as she circled her daughter. "A wedding with one's superiors needs the best. A sloppy job is not acceptable. One supposes that work has been done that is adequate. Ones are to leave; time with one's daughter is desirable."
Her greatest fear was that whatever the problem was it would be genetic. Could she knowingly give birth to offspring despite the knowledge that they'd need to lower themselves to find spouses or husbands? Or he could be sterile, making their marriage childless.
At least she wouldn't have to worry about whether or not he was physically capable. If he wasn't, they wouldn't be able to complete the ceremonies and, while it won't exactly look good for her family, as long as the failure was his it would be mortally embarrassing for his family. Perhaps that would be for the better, though. The embarrassment-geld would be enough to place her for a good marriage within her own class.
Va Mawtne could feel the touch of her mother's fingers against her fur, a cool touch that suggested the presence of dye.
"Some work is sloppy," her mother muttered. "But one is to be prepared now. A match has been made quite well, be assured, and trust funds have been allocated." She felt her mother's hand pat the base of her neck. "One should relax; a wedding will go well enough and time for worry will be plentiful in life. Some times are meant to be joyous, not uncomfortable."
"One has tried," Va Mawtne said with a sigh. She wanted to confide her fears to her mother, certainly the best person to do so with, but that would mean she'd have to admit to having them. If she pretended they didn't exist, maybe they wouldn't.
"One must hurry. Ceremonies begin only a short time from the present."
With another sigh, Va Mawtne furled her wings and began walking. She had a bit of difficulty at first, her mother's hand on her arm helping keeping her from falling over, but by the time she reached the stairs she'd gotten used to the balance of all the jewelry.
The deep steps lead upwards to the central dais of the cathedral. The priest, an older man wearing the humble silver jewelry of the ordained, was already there and waiting for her. A low pedestal before him held the clan Book of Marriage which he would first read as she was united with her husband-to-be and then record the marriage for all of time. Her mother followed her up and positioned herself behind and to the left of the priest, ready to do her part in the ceremonies. Her husband-to-be's father was already present and stood next to her mother; he to her right. He bent his snout to whisper in Va Velanti's ear and, from her mother's glare, Va Mawtne suspected it was not a respectable or appropriate comment.
The cathedral was much larger than the dressing room as befitted a chamber meant to hold hundreds. It lacked the seating many species used; the ravon were entirely satisfied to sit on their haunches on the floor and, besides, it was most humble to forgo even a thin seat-cushion. The vaulted ceiling rose far above them, high enough that even a human would have found the head-room immense. Frescoes decorated the ceiling, faded images depicting scenes from the Book of Vaere. Given Va Mawtne's unfamiliarity with the holy book, that being a thing for priests to deal with, she didn't recognize any of them, but then, she didn't look very hard either. She'd been in the cathedral a few years earlier when her sister had gotten married and several times before that for the marriages of her brother and several of her closer cousins.
Her husband-to-be's dressing room would lead out across the cathedral; he would pass through a corridor in the guests to the platform so she'd have plenty of time to see him before they were united.
The guests were beginning to arrive even as she got onto the platform; most arrived by wing to land on the balcony outside before making their way in. A few, those who felt compelled to dress up, sadly mostly members of her own family who felt overshadowed by the groom's social status, came up the stairs. She rather suspected they'd be regretting the decision by the time they made it up to the cathedral. Her husband-to-be's family was mostly in low-formal and while in other circumstances it could be taken as disrespect, in this case she understood it all too well.
Asking how the bride would be appointed was a serious faux-pas. Outshining her would be even worse. By dressing down they almost guaranteed they would not outdo the bride. It was, in a way, a kind of respect. Some of her family, of course, would take it as an insult regardless, but at least they'd never be so gauche as to admit to it out loud.
As she watched the crowd gather she wished she could join them in sitting. Unfortunately it would disturb her outfit and, besides, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand back up afterwards.
Re Vataen was stretched out over a padded bench as the servants layered on the jewelry. Fortunately his underside would remain plain with only a white breast-cloth; anything else could make the union with his bride uncomfortable. His wings were outstretched, the wing-spars resting on short posts and clamped in place. His father had suggested, and he agreed entirely, that he should save his strength for the wedding itself.
He rested with his eyes closed and his head on the bench as the swarm of servants put the finishing touches on his outfit. His left hand was bare, possibly the first time it'd been bare of rings since he'd been old enough to receive his first, but his right hand made up for it. He could barely bend his fingers there were so many, all with gems carefully set into platinum bands. Thin platinum sheathing also covered his wing-spar and numerous rings were clamped onto his tail. A shining tail sheath which, despite the name, covered only the top third of his tail was mounted on a fur-coloured belt tightened just behind his thighs.
Although a bit sorry for his bride to have to marry someone in his condition, he was elated that he would no longer be subject to jokes about his prolonged bachelorhood. He was one of the oldest unmarried men in his family though not for much longer.
"One hopes that one can move without discomfort?" One of the servants asked. He tried moving all his assorted limbs; nothing caught or pinched. He could feel the servant's fingers as they touched up the last of the dye job--he'd had the misfortune to be born with a mottled fur pattern on top of everything else.
"One is able."
"Preparations have been completed. Would one desire to stand?"
He stretched his legs, lifting his weight from the bench. He put a hand on it for a moment to stabilize himself then allowed the servants to remove it. Next they removed the wing-posts and he carefully furled his wings. He'd found if he carried them just so their weight would help keep them in place, taking some of the strain off of his muscles.
He glanced at the stairs leading upwards. He was not looking forward to it; he wouldn't have looked forward to it without his weakness. None-the-less, it was unavoidable.
"One departs to a wedding," he told his servants. They backed off, allowing him to move to the stairs.
Sure enough, the deep steps proved a challenge. Each step up was harder than the last and by the time he was halfway he was trembling and feared that sweat might disturb the dye that concealed his disgraceful colouration. He paused, leaning against the wall for a moment to catch his breath before calling his servants.
"There is kit that must be removed," he told them. "Sufficient strength is not had to arrive as needed." The delay, he knew, would worry everyone, his own family especially. There wasn't anything he could so about it, though. Better they wrongly fear he'd collapsed than for him to actually do so.
"Is surety had?" One servant asked. "Underdressing can cause disgrace for a family."
"Collapsing can cause a greater disgrace," he pointed out. "Delay is not desired; there are those who may worry."
The servants moved quickly, stripping half the tail-rings off, many of the rings from his fingers, and both wing-spar sheathes.
"Movement away is necessary," he said and the servants backed off a bit, enough that he could start his way up the steps once more. A couple of steps later he stopped to have a bit more jewelry removed, as much to give him a bit more time to rest as from any desire to be lightened of it. Then, finally, he was able to make it up the remainder of the stairs to the cathedral floor.
The stairs came out at the edge of the cathedral while his bride was at the centre. Unlike the stairs, however, the trip would be flat for almost the entire distance. Only the central dais would require any steps up.
The crowd parted between him and the dais, his bride's family to one side and his to the other. He gave both a hopefully reassuring smile and silently prayed neither could see the way he was shaking.
He made his way down the aisle, his eyes seeking out his bride; the weakness of his muscles didn't effect his eyes or mind at all. When he found her he was glad he'd shed so much of his formal kit. Even what remained risked out-doing her own formal kit and that would not have been appropriate. Some of the jewelry she wore was silver. Silver! He managed to keep himself from snorting, but only at the cost of stumbling slightly. He managed to stabilize himself and proceeded to the dais as quickly as he dared; once he was sitting the risk of embarrassment dropped considerably.
Other than a couple more stumbles along the way, there were no further incidents and he mounted the steps to the dais. He gave a quick nod of acknowledgement to the priest and a deep bow for his bride, though it felt strange to bow to someone so clearly his social inferior.
The priest cleared his throat and Re Vataen turned to look at him.
"A gathering is formed under the auspices of She Above to celebrate the union of two, one Ju Saezuthawvi Re Vataen and one Ju Wijaezako Va Mawtne. Her blessings are to be requested to be upon the two seen before the gathering and between the two good families of this clan." The priest nodded towards Re Vataen and his bride. "Documents and agreements have been examined and bear the approval of this Church and of She Above." A moment of rummaging in an alcove at the base of the pedestal allowed the priest of produce a pair of ornamental collars connected by a a metre of thin, golden chain. Their spotless polish caused them to glint in the bright cathedral light.
"More than words will bind two together, more than contracts signed. What is witnessed is a union of the spirit as much as between the flesh of two willing and able to accede to the binding. Many times have civilized people been held in bondage; now only need one bind themselves to one's mate."
Re Vataen didn't hesitate in taking the collar from the priest or snapping it around his neck. Not only was he quite familiar with weddings, having attended numerous family members' ceremonies, but he had been involved in enough ceremonies of his own that just one more meant relatively little to him. The consequences of this one where greater, but that was a thing to be dealt with later.
Besides, the sooner it was done the sooner he could sit down and rest.
Va Mawtne held the collar, fingering it, for only a moment. She delayed no more than in putting it on. Longer would be disrespectful both to her new husband's family and, more significantly, to her new husband himself. She'd be living with him, after all.
That didn't mean she felt no trepidation at putting the thing on. The priest wasn't kidding about the union and, although the practice of divorce was not unheard-of, it was both rare and scandalous. Besides, she could see her husband's hands shaking and he didn't look nearly nervous enough to justify that. A sign of whatever was causing him to marry so far out of his class?
She looked at the two families gathered around the dais. She was glad that no one give any indication of having seen her brief moment of hesitation.
"As the word of law must be witnessed, so too must be the bond of flesh. Those who are to be wed before She Above must, once witnessed to be united by law, be witnessed to be united by flesh." The priest bowed with a flourish, pulling a small plate with a pair of tanathi candies on it. There must have been a lid over the plate because even before Va Mawtne could see what he was pulling out she smelt it, the smell sending a shiver through her body.
There was no hesitation as she reached out and took one of them, quickly unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. The wrapper was discarded onto the plate as she chewed the candy, its sweet juice tingling on her tongue then her throat as it went down.
The candy would be carrying an aphrodisiac; she could almost certainly get through the next part without it, but it would make her husband's part a lot easier. She only needed to stand there and look happy while he needed to mount her, demonstrating his virility for all to see and sealing the wedding.
A moist feeling was starting to build between her legs: the aphrodisiac at work. Her nervousness rather faded and she began to look at her new husband, wondering when he would take her. She was glad, then, of the aphrodisiac. She may not need to do much at this point, but it was the one time in her life she'd have sex in front of an audience. At least she wasn't the groom; more than one marriage had crashed when the groom had a sudden bout of importance, thus the advent of the drugged candy.
After what seemed like an eternity, her husband finally moved around behind her, the chain dragging noisily across the ground as he moved. He lowered his snout, resting the end on top of her hips for a moment.
Then he stepped forward and raised his leg over her tail. She could feel his shaft rub against her, not managing to penetrate her. His chest rested on her back, its sides brushing her wings. The chain from his collar settled into the 'v' between her wing and back. She could feel his tail rub against hers as he shifted, trying to find the right spot to enter her. Everywhere his body touched hers she could feel a trembling in it. The weight of his body was unexpectedly light, especially considering the formal kit that he was wearing.
It took only a single agonizing minute before he slid into her with a smooth motion. He did not thrust hard into her as she'd heard many males did especially during their wedding when the aphrodisiac was having its effect on them.
His movements continued to be smooth, gentle. She wanted to scream at him, to make him ride her harder though she couldn't help but wonder if the slowness was a consequence of whatever was wrong with him.
As he continued his slow motion he rested his head next to her neck, nuzzling her there for a moment before letting it simply sit in place.
It did not take much of this treatment before she started to thrust her hips back against his motion, albeit subtly since it wouldn't do for anyone to think she wanted him to take her harder, more lustfully, more roughly. Even if she did. Badly. There wasn't much she could do, anyway. With the way his leg was resting on her tail and the weakness of his movements, her attempts at thrusting mostly just moved him along with her hips.
He stopped thrusting before she reached her orgasm. She let out a soft, unheard sigh and promised herself she'd talk to him about whole sex thing once they had privacy and not hundreds of family members to gossip about their conversation. It took a moment before she came to the startling realization that he hadn't reached his orgasm either.
She bent her head around to look at him. What she saw was not encouraging. His eyes were closed and was laying limply on top of her. His wings rested half-open, hidden from their audience as they rested against her own. At least she could still feel his chest moving and his breath against her. He was still trembling as well.
He'd passed out. Passed out during his own wedding! She couldn't help but roll her eyes. How long would he be out? Too long to save face, she imagined. He was still hard within her, though; perhaps she could make it look like he was still going?
She flexed her tail upwards, using her wings to make sure he stayed balanced on her. His leg rubbed against her tail and, thankfully, his shaft slid out of her a short distance. Lowering her tail again she could feel him slid back in.
Up, down. In, out. The continual effort was tiring, but seemed to be doing the job; it was certainly moving her along towards her orgasm and doing better at it than when he'd been the one doing the thrusting.
She had almost reached her climax when he woke back up. It was only a moment before he picked up with his own thrusting again, but she didn't relent the movements of her tail; they enhanced his thrusts in a way moving her hips had not and the sooner they climaxed the better.
It did not take long. He shuddered, his arms taking a tight grip around her waist, fingers brushing against the nipples hidden beneath her fur. His shaft pulsed as he filled her with his seed.
He kept going for a moment, though, and it was enough for him to push her over the edge as well, her mind briefly submerging in the all-consuming waters of her orgasm.
It wasn't long before he slipped off of her, his leg dragging over her tail until it slipped off to fall to the ground. Thankfully, he got it under himself before he fell over. He stumbled a bit before coming to a stop next to Va Mawtne and surprised her by leaning against her side. She thought it was a gesture of affection until she felt him trembling where they touched. Hopefully everyone watching would believe it was the gesture she'd first thought it to be.
The priest glanced at the newlywed couple before raising his eyes to scan the crowd surrounding the dais. "One and one have become one," he intoned. "Rejoicing is to be allowed." A cheer rose from the crowd, numerous well-wishes reaching the couple's ears.
"A time comes for departure," the priest said. "Those newly wedded need time to become familiar and to know one another. One will arrive with dawn and bonds will be unbound." The final words were spoken quietly, to the wedded couple only. With a final bob of his head, the priest ducked down the stairs and was gone.
"One hopes many happy times are had," Va Velati wished her daughter. "One should make one's family proud." Her mother gave Va Mawtne a quick nuzzle then followed the priest.
Re Vataen's father had also been exchanging words with him, though Va Mawtne was unable to make them out, tough they did not sound as friendly as her mother's. He left with his snout almost pushing Va Velati's tail.
The only thing left to do was to watch the crowd depart. As a child, Va Mawtne had always wondered what happened to the couple when the crowds were gone. One of her tutor's other students had once suggested the priests came out and there was an orgy; that student disappeared from lessons and, when seen by Va Mawtne a few months later, was much subdued. Others proposed less shocking theories, but her experience with her husband so far suggested what was in her immediate future, at least: a good nights sleep.
It wasn't talked about, but everyone knew that some women got abusive, sadistic husbands. At least she wouldn't have to deal with that, but still, it felt like she should be worrying about whether he'd live through their commencement year.
The crowds did not stay long; even most of those from her own family had only a vague idea who she actually was and they had no intention of sticking around to risk revealing this. Thus, within twenty minutes or so the cathedral was empty. The lights dimmed, leaving only a small circle of half-light around where Va Mawtne and her husband still stood. Otherwise it was as if the dais drifted in a sea of darkness.
Since no one remained to see it, Va Mawtne stepped away from her husband to start stripping the jewelry off of herself. Its weight was becoming tiresome but it was, thankfully, much easier to remove than it was to put on. Her husband just lowered his body to the floor, not moving otherwise.
Once the jewelry was off and stacked in a neat pile not far from where she was, not that she could have placed it further since she was still bound to her new husband by the golden chain, she turned to see that Re Vataen hadn't moved. He was laying limp on the ground, his wings laying lifelessly at his side and his eyes half-lidded. She walked over to him and bumped him with her nose; his only response was to grunt at her. At least it was enough to reassure her that he wasn't dead.
"It is wondered what problems may ail one," she said, keeping her voice low.
"There is a condition; weakness of the muscles and exhaustion can result," he told her, his voice quiet and uneven. "It is not necessary to fear, a condition is not genetic and may be caused by chemical exposure before birth. Offspring will not inherit it."
Va Mawtne snorted. Not exactly the news she might have hoped for, but at least it wasn't all bad. She stepped over next to him and started to take off his jewelry, setting it in a separate pile from her own. It seemed likely that she would be helping her new husband frequently in the future, though at least she wouldn't have to deal with removing his formal kit very often. It wasn't used much by anyone and it seemed rather doubtful that he'd be doing any formal functions that he didn't have to.
As much as Re Vataen would have liked to take his formal kit off, he simply lacked the energy. He was vaguely aware of having passed out while consummating his marriage, though his memory was anything but clear. It seemed that the marriage had been completed anyway, though, so he guessed his bride had managed to avoid the scene he would have expected to result. Something to be grateful for.
Despite the brevity of the explanation of his condition the effort of telling her had exhausted him anew. Still, he promised himself to explain it more fully to his wife later, when he was more recovered from the ceremony.
Even as he felt his formal kit being pulled off, he remained laying limp on the ground. The decreasing weight on him was making it easier to breath and he could feel his muscles start to relax. The trembling he both felt and saw was fading. His eyes partially closed and his mind drifted a bit, relishing in the way the world become more real with every item his wife pulled from his body.
"One wonders whether every union will have a similar result," his bride said.
He took a moment before replying to consider; it had been quite some time since he'd had sex before. That had been with his cousin, Re Kamae, exiled now to Pasha Za Fojun Fae, and moreover had been when he was stronger. The weakness that possessed him was a progressive thing, his muscles slowly deteriorating despite everything the doctors could do; he'd been able to pass for almost normal then.
"One is not sure. A possibility does exist."
As she took in this possibility, he tried to remember her name. He'd been concentrating on staying conscious during the ceremony, not that he'd been entirely successful there, and he could not remember if his parents had ever actually told him her name. Even if they had, he had been so excited with the idea that he might finally manage to get married that he didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the details.
That she came from a rather lower social class he could deal with; it was something he'd been prepared to deal with long before the marriage had been arranged. His condition prevented anything else. Not knowing her name, though, was embarrassing, but he could think of no polite way of enquiring.
"Some things are rather problematic," she said. He wasn't entirely sure if she was talking to him, but as she didn't appear to expect a reply, it wasn't a problem.
"An idea is to be had," she continued after a moment. "It is not entirely traditional."
Re Vataen supposed he should be disturbed at that, but his past relations with Re Kamae hadn't exactly been traditional either.
"It is wondered what idea has been had by one's bride."
"Can one roll onto one's back?"
Re Vataen used his wing to push himself onto his side with a dull grunt; although the effort wasn't painful, it was difficult with the exhaustion that still filled his body. Rolling the rest of the way onto his back was simply a matter of folding the wing now against the ground as tightly against his back and possible and allowing himself to roll with gravity. With another grunt he managed to shift the folded wing out from under himself and allowed it to relax on the floor.
"It would seem to be so," he told her, his voice weak as he was exhausted anew by even that mild effort.
"It is to be appreciated." His bride stepped over him, her feet pressing down on the thankfully tough membranes of his wings. Despite the thinness, they were quite tough as suited limbs so crucial to life. The chain that bound them together was dragged across his wing, but it seemed that his wife took sufficient care that it didn't snag nor did she step on it.
He looked up at her even as she leaned forward to nuzzle at the base of his snout. Long-fingered hands wrapped themselves around his chest, rubbing themselves against his short fur. Thick, blunt wing-fingers reached out to clasp his own, lifting his wings off the ground slightly. He could feel the membranes of his wings stretch around her feet where she stood.
She lifted one of her feet and he felt its dexterous toes moments later rubbing the fur near his groin.
"Not entirely traditional is not always an accurate description," he said. The church was very specific about the right way to have sex. Since public sex was, outside of a wedding, not appropriate, it was hard to say how many actually listened, though of course everyone claimed to. That they were, in fact, in a church and a high-profile one at that didn't change the fact that observing them on their wedding night would be a major faux pas. Even if someone did so, they would never admit it.
"Are things not being not entirely traditional a problem?" She nuzzled the end of his snout as she finished speaking, then shifted to give his ear a quick lick around its edges. Her foot massaged his flesh as it slowly circled his groin. He could feel his body reacting even without her touch having arrived at his intimate regions.
"They are not," he admitted. "One remains surprised at their adoption, however."
"Celibacy during marriage is not to be desired." She nipped his ear causing him to give a short yelp. One toe brushed the side of his pubic mound and the slight sliver of his length that had started to expose itself there.
"Some statements are understood readily; a lack of desire for celibacy is shared." He lifted one of his own legs off the ground, an effort that momentarily surprised him with its ease before he realized that his thighs, though weak, were accustomed to holding the entire weight of his body. The weight of a single foot was far less than that. With this leg he rubbed the underside of her tail, near her thighs. He did this rather more roughly than he'd intended to, but the exhaustion from the wedding was still sapping his motor control.
"Some things are good," she whispered into his ear. Her toes now caressed his growing shaft, its length slipping between two of them as she stroked its. Though supporting some of her weight, her hands managed to explore his chest, never moving off of him in their motions, but still sending delightful sensations though him to compete with those coming from his groin.
Forgoing a reply, he explored her underside with his raised foot, one of his toes slipping into her. He could feel her moist, warm inner flesh against the digit and took advantage of its position to thrust it into her much as his member had done before he'd passed out.
"Mmm," she moaned, her foot moving faster over his shaft; he could feel the sensations building up like a pressure in his groin. Unlike before, he found he was not suffering exhaustion; he was not going to pass out. That knowledge alone nearly brought him more joy than all his new wife's fondling.
Before he could find his release, she returned her foot to the ground, or rather, his wing which was on the ground, and reached back to push his own foot aside. It slid out of her easily, the fur on his toe thoroughly covered in her moist fluids. Even had he wanted to stop he lacked the strength.
She lowered herself onto him, the golden chain clinking as she moved and her tail rubbing against his own as she slid back. His shaft slipped inside of her, her inner passage thoroughly slick and not resisting this penetration at all. With her hands braced against his chest, pressing down on him in a surprisingly pleasant way, she started rhythmically thrusting herself onto his shaft.
Though he was looking up at her as she moved, his eyes had glazed over and, in truth, he wasn't seeing anything at all. His heart was pounding in his chest in a way far more pleasant than he was accustomed to and his breath was rapid as it shifted the fur on her snout. He could feel a kind of pressure building up in his loins as she continued. His back arched against the floor as his hips made small, vague motions and his legs wavered in the air as though unsure what to do during such an unconventional mating.
It did not take much of this treatment, of her hips taking his length into her, before he felt his muscles tense and his awareness blank out as his orgasm filled his mind and body. And unlike during the wedding, he was now sufficiently aware to really experience the sensation.
His awareness returned soon enough that he could still feel his shaft pulsing as it sent his seed into his wife. She continued thrusting for a moment before her own orgasm came, her muscles tensing and the tiny claws on her toes pressing into his wing membranes. She thrust herself downwards, pressing her groin solidly against his.
She remained like that for a moment before rolling off and laying beside him, her limbs spread across his body and his wing-arm under her head like a pillow. The golden chain lay between them, forgotten.
"Some things work out well," she said, her voice dreamy, almost meandering.
"It is to be agreed."
Nothing more was said as they drifted off to sleep in the half-light, secure in the knowledge that a priest would release them come morning.