The two lovers stare at the bed, a looming sense of finality hanging in the air around it.

"Well... I suppose we should..." Priscilla starts nervously.

Sær shifts anxiously. "Yes..."

"D-do you want to?"

"Of course! I, I mean, if-if-if you..." Sær gulps. Now that the moment has finally come, initiating it seems much more intimidating.

Priscilla nods. "What... How should we

s-start? I know t-th-the basics from a book... An educational one! Not the other kind. I, what feels, um, for you, when we, will you... B-because I want to make you good feel! Ehm, I-I-I mean, f-feel... Good..."

She looks to be on the verge of tears.

Sær holds her tail, squeezing it reassuringly. "I love you, Priscilla. We don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable. We can take things at your pace." He smiles at her.

Her lower lip trembles. "Oh, Sær..." She kneels down, wrapping him in a tender embrace and gently placing her lips against his. They kiss passionately, so much so that Priscilla feels dizzy from the pleasure. Losing her balance, she topples onto the bed, taking Sær with her. The two continue, only stopping for a much-needed breath. "Haah," she pants. "Darling... Can you... H-help me with my dress?"

Sær nods. She sits up, and with trembling fingers, he unlaces her full-body veil. Priscilla shrugs her shoulders, and the dress flows off her torso in a waterfall of silk. Her back is pale and pristine, exquisitely toned. Sær rubs it reverently, and his wife sighs happily. The two lay upon the enormous feather bed, sighing happily as they embrace.

Priscilla purrs as Sær wriggles closer to her, kissing her neck. Slowly, her tail begins to curl in on itself. The movement doesn't escape Sær, and he smirks at her. "Does that excite you?"

Priscilla notices her tail, and quickly buries her face in her hands. "I'm s-s-s-sorry! I'm not -I shouldnt- please don't think I'm a naughty jezebel!"

"A what now?"

Priscilla doesn't answer, prompting Sær to sigh fondly. "Priscilla, it's alright to feel like this. You don't have to be embarrassed about your body or your desires."

"I can't help it," she whimpers.

An idea forms in Særs head. Gently unwrapping the wide strips of cloth that make up her dress, he gathers it, folds it, and lovingly ties it on Priscilla's head, obscuring her vision. "There. Don't think about what's happening. Don't think about where we are. Don't think about who we are. We're not Priscilla and Sær. We're just two people, loving each other. No more, no less."

Priscilla nods, taking a shaky breath. She nods once more, signaling to Sær that she's ready. He lays down gently along her stomach, gently rubbing between her legs. She hisses and whimpers at the contact, mouth open slightly. Peppering kisses around her navel, Sær reaches up to gently caress her chest. She lets out another moan, rubbing her legs together as her lover reaches a hand down to stroke her pert rear. Growing bold, he delicately rubs between her legs with his other hand. The entire experience is new to him, as he only has vague memories of making love before he became undead.

By the fourth minute, Priscilla is mewling, and the both of them are more aroused than they've ever been in their lives. She whimpers wantonly, raising her hips and pushing up against Sær. Taking deep breaths, she slowly removes her blindfold, the pleasure washing away any doubt or embarrassment she has. Leaning forward, she kisses Sær deeply, and his patience finally snaps. Pulling away from her lips, he quickly removes the rest of his clothes. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to mate with her, and his mind has turned hazy, unable to restrain his needs any longer.

He lines himself up between her legs, breathing hard. Unbidden, her tail snakes up to wrap around his torso, and without pause, it pulls him towards her, his length sinking to her to the hilt. Priscilla lets out an animalistic yowl of pain and pleasure, a sharp stinging pain emanating from her maidenhead. They hold still, eyes closed as Priscilla adjusts to the sensation of being filled. Despite the pain, she can sense a steady trickle of pleasure peeking through. The sensation of sex is unlike she could have ever imagined; a feeling of fullness, a feeling that two bodies have become one. Sær throbs inside of her, clearly eager to continue.

Priscilla's large chest rises and falls, beads of sweat beginning to form on her neck. Tentatively, she shifts her hips, causing her lover's member to shift inside of her, sending a spike of pain and pleasure through her mind. Sær gives a slow, short thrust, then stills, allowing her to rest for a moment before repeating the action. Despite the small amount of force used, Priscilla gasps and pants reflexively.

Sær leans his head back and groans as she clenches around him, the warm, wet cavern massaging his member. Her tail is still wrapped around his torso, flexing with each little movement. "Are... Are you alright? Does it hurt?" Sær asks, panting.

Priscilla nods. "A little, but the pain is fading. Do not worry about me, please..."

Sær shakes his head in disbelief. Even now, she holds his needs above her own.

He angles himself upwards, sinking into her deeper. She yelps cutely, her tail squeezing and pulling him until his member is completely enveloped by her warm folds. His head bucks, and he pants, flexing. Gripping her hips, he thrusts into her savagely, drawing a scream of ecstacy from her throat. She is moaning freely now, her toes clenching as Sær pounds into her.

Withdrawing to the very tip, he slams back and forth, sending pleasure shooting along his back. The near-scalding heat of her entrance makes it impossible to think, so intense is the pleasure. The entire world falls away, and the only sensation either of them can feel is pleasure. Sær repeats slow, deliberate thrusts, and Priscilla lays back with a blissful grin on her face. The next dozen minutes are a cacaphony of moans, whimpers, and sweet nothings punctuated by the sound of skin on skin.

"P-Priscilla," he pants, "I can't..."

Her chest heaves, her naked body glistening with sweat. "Just a little longer..." she says between breaths.

Sær grits his teeth, withdrawing from her wet heat. In a flash, Priscilla locks her legs behind his back, and her tail forces him to thrust in and out of her. "Don't you dare," she growls. "We finish together, or not at all."

"But what if you get-"

Priscilla silences him with a kiss, and he ceases his struggling, giving in to her. By now her tail is locked around him, and it will stay that way until they are finished. The tail of a crossbreed reflexively ensnares a mate, not letting go until the deed is done.

Sær speeds up his thrusting, and Priscilla clenches tightly around him, curling up and locking lips with him. This finally sends her over the edge, and she screams as her orgasm slams into her. Wave after wave of ecstasy flows through her body, and she flexes, enveloping Sær's member in a tight hug of pleasure. "Kuh! P-P-PRISCILLA!"

He shouts her name, finally reaching his peak and flooding her with his seed. Priscilla gives a bone-rattling yowl of pleasure, and the two grip each other tightly. Sær pumps into her jerkily, each movement sending another rope of his release crashing into her, the heat causing her eyes to widen as she gasps.

Sær's eyes unfocus, stuck in a trance as he releases more of his essence than he thought was possible. Slowly, his vision begins to go from light to dark, the last remnants of his monstrous orgasm leaving him at last. Priscilla quivers, still on her way down from her peak. Her husband's seed spreads throughout her, the heat sending jolts of bliss up her spine.

At last, the two go limp, and Sær slumps against his wife. Affectionately nuzzling her abdomen, his mind finally succumbs to exhaustion, this most sacred of acts bringing him a deep, peaceful slumber.