Horizon Ridge Out where the lightning splits the sea

He said nothing, though Pied didn't take this to mean anything bad, particularly because she could see the transformation taking place as she continued to gaze at his face. Kisu looked suddenly ravenous, though she knew full well his wasn't an appetite for food. She shared in that same hunger and, upon seeing it written so clearly on his handsome features, her insides seemed to turn to lava.

Eagerly, she obeyed his unspoken instructions, lifting her backside to make it easy for him. In her effort to accommodate him, she actually pressed herself backward with such enthusiasm that their bodies connected before either of them was properly ready for it. Pied squeaked, a noise which lengthened and deepened into a wild, untamed yowl.

It was over in what seemed all at once like seconds and millenniums. Pied sank down, gently tugging her mate with her. The air suddenly felt hot and muggy, as if they were in a tropical jungle instead of a temperate rainforest at the tail end of winter. Her wet flanks rose and fell rapidly, though they eventually began to slow. The Gamma slowly adjusted herself, curling into a ball against her mate.

"I love you, Kisu, and I hope you'll forgive me. I don't want our children to have been conceived in anger," Pied said quietly, eyes shining in the damp darkness. The storm had begun to subside out there. "I want you to be happy, for us to be happy." Then, with a crooked smile, she dared to hope. "And I want to do that again... and again... and again..." With a quiet, slightly shaky laugh, she let her head fall to rest on his forelegs, her face pressed into the soft, downy fur of Kisu's broad chest.