Blackfoot Forest starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters

it is quick and rough and she is underwhelmed. still, the fire burns as they shift and dance. there is pain but she bears it, and when he has spent himself atop her does she move swiftly. like a viper, her muzzle twists back violently and grabs at the soft underside of his neck, grasping it with the same lightness as he a moment earlier. here the fire twists and burns, fevered passion reaching a peak not at their union but now, when he stands above her yet she has her fangs at his neck. 

she imagines the lifeblood there, tearing at it as she tore at her father. but these are thoughts without substance, and when the rumble in her chest turns to growl and then again silence does her grip loosen, gaze burning amidst the sleek darkness of her features. he, they, are a drug and already she finds herself addicted after so long of leaving him dead and buried in the back of her mind.