Heron Lake Plateau Rivets and screws.

It seemed Rye wouldn't simply accept Towhee's switch without a fight. She did not catch her new partner's words, though she watched as the two males squared up and prepared to spar. A small part of her was pleased that they should be resorting to blows over her, though mostly she was impatient and sexually frustrated over the delay.

Fortunately, Rye backed down after a single strike. Her orange eyes tracked him as he went, then flicked back to—what was his name again? Did she even know it? Did it really matter? Towhee shook her head lightly at herself, then pressed backward into him when he approached her hindquarters again. She could smell blood, which only made hers run even hotter.

"Fuck me," she huffed lowly, "now."