Redhawk Caldera So let me hold you tight and share a killer, diller, chiller, thriller here tonight

The two of them tumbled into a sleepy, sated pile and began snoring, drooling and farting up a symphony within minutes. Peregrine slept so soundly that he didn't dream. He didn't move, either. When Fox roused, he grumbled in his sleep, eyelids fluttering. "Five more minutes," he complained in a gritty voice, curling into a ball like an overgrown kitten. But the instant Fox waved her hoo-ha in his face, his eyes popped open and he was on her like white on rice, ignoring the twitching of his blind eye and the horrible stiffness of his entire body (except the most important part... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)).

He set a frantic pace, groaning and growling as he humped away. He was so into it that he began drooling all over Fox's scruff. It felt so good he could have sworn his face was melting right off his skull. Enjoying every minute of it, he let his eyelids droop shut for a moment. He buried his face between her shoulders and breathed in her smell, which made him delightfully dizzy. When he looked upward again, he thought he saw Liffey and Lagan staring at them from behind a bush and snickered to himself.

A few seconds later, Peregrine felt himself tipping over that wonderful edge. "I'M COMI—!" he felt the need to shout into the dark air, though he never got the whole word out. Something inside his brain went pop. He didn't feel a thing. He didn't even realize it was happening. He had no idea he was coming and going at the same time. One second, he was so fuckin' alive, man... and the next, he was dead as fuck before he even hit the ground—which he did, dragging Fox down with him by the dong.