my name is death [M]

Neither of them gave in their tugging of the dead thing. Their strength was great enough that the animal was split in two messy halves, and Tonravik playfully whipped her head left and right, its innards and legs flailing limply, some flying this way and that but others held perfectly intact. She released it, disinterested in it then; her eyes found her mate as he draped what must have been intestines around her. Flecks of blood dotted her face as well as his own, and she leaned into him to hungrily lap at the contents on his muzzle as he padded toward her, reminded of his own bloody kiss. Hers was more of a self-serving action, but her possessiveness and hunger toward him spoke plenty of her devotion.

Tonravik continued to pick at his furs in hungry nips, literally looking for things to eat that had fallen upon him. His drive was different than her own, but she did not rebuke any of his advances, warming to his touch by the minute. Before they could consummate anything, she flopped down onto the macabre scene, marking the blood and bones as her own. After this, she drew nearer to him again, hungrily moving to lick blood and saliva both from her mates chin and lips in an excited fashion. Her boa still hung haphazardly from her, as well as other organs.