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Summary
Antigone chews on her lower lip, sinking into the sheets. “It wasn’t a nightmare.”
"But..." Eric blinks at her. He takes stock of her still fluttering breath, the way she shifts minutely, uncomfortably between the sheets, itching for some sort of release.
“It was actually quite pleasant,” she trills, like whispering a secret. Eric stiffens next to her.
“Oh,” he says again, dumbly. “Oh. Blimey.”
#
Antigone wakes up in a compromising state.
