[The vine at her entrance presses slowly inward, easing its way in between the slick folds; the one curled at the base of her wings hasn't stopped shifting, pressure firm and pointed. His hands take the invitation, too, petting along her wings as she pressesthem against him]

[His mouth is perhaps the busiest of all, though; he laps against her clit in short, quick strokes, starting up a steady rhythm]