Blackfeather Woods kid hang over here, what're you learning in school?

clashing shadows in a primeval garden of eden were they, sylph and satan in the timeworn clash of light and dark. where she gave, he took, and where he yielded, she too ripped from him what she would. the heat of his desire burned piquant on her tongue wherein the red dripped from his wounds to her, smeared into her guard hairs, her chestfur; here now, her own wounds glistened scarlet, her tearing cerise. she had been lured forward, was her grave misstep, but one she sought to rectify with each clash of their teeth against those of the other.
until at last he drove the breath from the woman, tossing down his defiant foe, he smote her upon the ruin of their snowy battlefield and thrust his entire slinking body against her own, feculent in the black look of his eyes. relmyna gave a gasp as he wrung blood from her again, though her own gaze sought to entirely consume him with her rage, and she pressed without fear her forepaws against his shoulders, twisting violently in his grasp even until the knobs of her spine had been bruised against the frozen earth.
and then came the press of his truest weapon — the evoker went rigid with fear, some violent light dying within her; now there was only terror of the unknown, her chest rising and falling fiercely beneath the weight of him, even as her mind screamed her body knew its desire, and the gold pleasure of it stippled itself with the crimson of her pain, hues fracturing beyond the reach of her consciousness in agony — skull thrumming with whiteness and all sensation building in a ziggurat to her warped lusts, relmyna cried out and found strength to snap wildly for any part of the man she could reach.