Blackfeather Woods the radio station disappears, music turned into thin air

it was not a lover relmyna sought — cicero had lit whatever warmth she had left in her loins with the mingling of their bodies. this one would not be so kind. relmyna;s gaze followed what part of him did not blend with the darkness left by the dilating glow of the shineworms above, his rhythmic touches stoking some deep-hidden part of her. 
in time he pressed the length of himself against her, his forelegs circling her throat, and relmyna accepted this part of their hasty courtship, returning the man's growl with a low trill of her own. in the gloom her eyes burned as she turned her slender muzzle in such a way as to catch his eye, finding some thrill in circumventing the law of order, the law of their kind — beneath blackfeather they were equals, both nameless in the pursuit of their desire, and despite his rough handling of her, relmyna found pleasure in it.