Wild Berry Meadow yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

His eyes fall softly closed as he fully relinquishes to the comfort he finds those silvery tresses. He had not known affection so easily in his life, and his flesh — as well as his heart — pined for the consolatory pleasure that navigated through his muscles and released those inebriating chemicals his brain thirsted for. A sense of serenity veiled over the world, and it became muddied as reality began to fade into the back of his consciousness — lights, sounds, swallowed up in the complete placidity of such a simple action.
 
Despite his glacial pelage, Zephyr was warm; it blushed against his cheek and across his shoulder where their bodies met, and he, too, found a contented sigh exhale across the tangle of fur his head rested upon. Even as his corporeal existence seemed to suspend in the limbo of satisfaction, however, a scent slowly began to creep into his nose. It was undeniably saccharine, alike wine pouring over his tongue — and his mind began to swim.
 
Zephyr’s words begin to fade, even as they spark the chords of reassurance in his chest.

Home...
 
“Quite the little whore, aren’t you?” He hissed, ruby eyes widening. His ears curled upward, the facade of horns more prominent, as his teeth bared in a cruel, humored grin. In a flash of stained enamels, he plunged ravening dentition into the nape of his neck, his mouth swallowing up a partition of flesh and fat; a satisfying pop reverberating in his mouth as sanguine liquid pooled around his canines and swam into the creases of his gums and tongue.

His eyes rolled backwards, a predatory, voracious moan bubbling through the blood which wept eagerly into his throat, followed by a rippling snarl which screamed — more.