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      "writing": "A murder gathered, small corvid inkblots in the clear sky, but it was a ways off from where it seemed that Rye was headed. It dropped its dusty snout back down into the soil to pick out the trail of a coyote, still lingering, but faint on the disturbed tall grasses.\n\nThey had bounded up, all paws off the ground when telling it about the remains of an elk they had found with plenty of scraps for both of them to share, and had agreed to meet there that evening. By the trail it had picked up, though, it assumed their excitement had got the better of them, and they had gone on almost right after.\n\nThat was a few days ago now, and when they didn't show up that evening, Rye had just assumed that Eyes like Ice - that was what they said their name was, and as Rye's name was ``Coat like Ryegrass'', they had also shortened it to just ``Ice`` - had simply forgotten about their meeting, or decided to take the rest for themselves. After a couple days more of scrounging for scraps, Rye's hunger and curiosity, and to its slight surprise, lust had gotten the better of it. \n\nTheir piercing blue-white eyes hanging still in dusky fur had struck Rye still when they had first met - like a glint from icicles in the treeline betraying a dangerous allure alongside their exuberance. Whether that allure of danger had been from them, or from associating with a coyote this unreliable, Rye had yet to determine. What it could determine, though, was the pressing need its body was feeling to find out. The chill winter air had just begun to stir with a breeze of springtime, and it couldn't hurt to have company when it did. \n\nThat was, if Rye could track them down again.\n\nAnd, if there was as much left on that carcass as they had promised, there should at least be some scraps the birds hadn't got to yet, it thought hopefully. Its trailing thoughts had left its nose to direct its paws straight to an elk carcass in a small clearing, one without much but bone left, and an absolute cacophony of scents. It abruptly stopped dead in its tracks, hackles raised as soon as the barrage of trails hit its nose. A straggling pair of crows beat their wings and lifted off from the remains without much fanfare, and it was left alone to piece together the mess. \n\nIts heart started to pound faster, in the flurry stood out Ice's sharp scent, the protest of a few crows... and at least a few wolves. It inhaled deep in the heady tang of blood more recent than the elk; in gross protest of yet another missed meal, its stomach growled loudly. Rye exhaled an exacerbated growl over the conflicting concern and frustration and shook its head. This is why they had both planned to go together.\n\nThe scent of blood and the lingering melange of animals had all but suffocated its good sense as its head swam in indulgent thoughts, and reluctantly it ducked away into the crushed and blood-slick grass surrounding the clearing. It didn't see any sign of them around, but another trail leading away all but confirmed what the crows above had already suggested. \n\nThis time, the scent of both panic and blood led Rye on, and sent a shiver of anticipation up through its paws. Even as it stalked along, wary of any threats beyond the tall grass, the tension in the air was utterly enticing; it felt the tip of its shaft touch the cool evening air as it slipped out of the sheath. Even if they were another coyote, Rye couldn't help but drool a bit at the intoxicating trail Ice had left when they suddenly found themselves the prey.\n\nRye's heated breath was faintly visible in the cool evening air, a haze that did little to obscure the ruddy patches of dried blood in the underbrush that it followed. Overhead, it could hear the flapping of the circling crows wings now -  as the wind shifted, an all too familiar sickly-sweet scent of decay reached its sensitive nose.\n\nPoking its head through the edge of the grass just where the treeline began, the smell of days old kill became palpable in the air. In a small recess between two pines lay a dusky coat with a miraculously intact pale blue eye staring back at it. A hollow of picked-over gore was all that was left of where the other eye once sat; yet their gaze only captivated Rye even more now, an unearthliness that it couldn't help but be drawn to.\n\nRye's fascination lay not only in the thrill of stalking the scent of prey on the run, nose unraveling the story of the chase in enrapturing detail, but especially in what lay beyond the kill it inevitably found. Every step in pursuit to their grisly end, every scrap devoured, every inch of itself buried inside their body, and every inch of theirs inside of its brought it closer to them -  a visceral reverence for the cycle of life and death. Of scavenger and carrion.\n\nAnd it was a scavenger, through and through. \n\nWhen naught but gnawed scraps remained of the carcass it had come to know well inside its own body, it always ensured it paid its respects by returning the favor. Slimy cervine bones caressing the length of its knotted cock as it would thrust against the pelvises of deer left by the larger scavengers for the insects to pick over. Underbelly fur matted in putrid gore, the deer's spine clenched in its powerful jaws as it reached a shuddering climax, seed sprayed into a fertile womb of fur, soil, and decay, stirring brooding flies underneath.\n\nRye's reverie was interrupted by running almost face first into the remnants of its acquaintance, as if they were drawn straight from its overindulgent memory. It inhaled the syrupy perfume of flourishing putrefaction, mouth watering unbidden at the vulgar sensory feast sprawled before it. Patches of bird-pecked flesh leered out from Ice's tattered scraps of dark, grayish pelt, almost shimmering with an iridescence from the few insects that had taken a liking to the offerings.\n\nThe tail end of winter still showing its thick coat, the days and nights had not been so warm as to have roused many bugs from their overwintering; and so there was no bothersome swarm to contend with despite the days that had passed. Rye leaned intimately close, whiskers brushing against the tips of Ice's fangs poking out from their parted jaws, and lapped at the viscous, congealing ichor drying on their slack lips. The metallic bite of condensed blood mixed with souring rot soaked its tongue, which had begun to loll out from its panting jaws. It nibbled playfully at the frayed edge of their ear, and gave another lick for good measure. In life, Ice might've seen it as a courting gesture, and Rye saw it as just that, still.\n\nIt looked like it wouldn't be missing out on having springtime company, after all.\n\nLeaning away, it took in their form in full. While their body had cut an elegant shape even in the final days of winter, death had only further exposed it. Without the modesty provided by full cover of their dense winter coat, it was plain to see the remains of a banquet of solidly built muscle underneath. Also plain to see, was how they had met their fate. As prey, indeed.\n\nLarge gouges from crushing jaws and serrating teeth marred Ice's haunches, while their belly was lavishly rent apart, spilled entrails left to decay on sordid display. What little control over its fantasies remained promptly left Rye's body at the sight; gawking openly, it failed to conceal its naked arousal, sheath outlining its already swelling length. \n\nAn inkling of sense left in Rye's head told it to give its surroundings a cursory glance, and it reluctantly lifted its head to do so, with no sign of the wolves who had chased Ice to their end. From what it could smell in the stale trail from the elk, those wolves had chased them off probably not long after Rye had last seen them. It could've followed along in their overconfidence, but it probably would've found its end right alongside them here. Romantic, and perhaps fitting, but it would have all the time in the world to rot alongside them in the end.\n\nThe only eyes that met its gaze were the leering glossy eyes of a pair of crows in the trees. Rye briefly locked eyes before looking back down, it thought it recognized the two, they often showed up even after there wasn't much left to eat when it was around, and it had a hunch the two simply enjoyed the show. Rye wasn't one to shy away from exhibition, anyway. Countless others were fed upon and were fed by their life and death. To love all parts of that cycle and display it to the world, it mused, was to connect with their nature in the purest sense.\n\nRye couldn't resist a bow and a bounce out of excitement. Ice was a handsome mate, one it wouldn't spare any expense with in intimacy, even if they were indisposed to respond now.\n\nIt trod assuredly around to Ice's rump. Missing their intended meal, there was little mess beneath their scruffy tail as sometimes comes with such a state; just a beautifully pallid spade, with an assortment of their mingled juices leaking out and wetting their fur. Rye pressed in and dragged its tongue eagerly across the folds, heavy musk redolent with their scent which had grown ripe with blood and spoilage. \n\nPassionately it lapped up their draining juices, lubricating its rough tongue as it pressed against the nub of their clit. Rye's eyes closed in indulgent bliss, forcing its snout further into their cold, yielding flesh, drinking in the lurid detail in the decomposing patches deeper inside. With a wet squelch, it felt the bare chill of air on the tip of its tongue again. \n\nSurprised, its eyes flicked back open to find the pink of its tongue poking out through Ice's shredded belly, meeting open space in the gap left by their gutting. Its lips pulled back in a canine grin as an idea unfurled in its mind. It was always one to make the best of the situation, and what wonderful ways it could treat its mate when those wolves had graciously left it so many new avenues to explore.\n\nWith a huff it slid its tongue out from their spade, drooling a sludgy mess of their fluids and its saliva, face stained dark and slick from the mixture.\n\nStepping over Ice, Rye flopped down and planted its face right into the festering cavity in their belly. Tearing and gulping voraciously at the rotting scraps inside with its teeth, it worked its way deeper until it managed to push its tongue back through the opening it had first come through. A trickle of fluids seeped out from their spade while Rye worked its tongue back inside them, widening this new way in between their cold walls.\n\nIt thrust its hips unbidden against the side of their face, grinding aimlessly against tattered fur and the occasional scrape of a fang -  mind starting to go blank as it worked its tongue further and further in, utterly enveloped by Ice's embrace.\n\nRye's reckless humping finally found purchase, bloodied teeth pressing against Rye's sheath as it spread their jaws further apart. The sudden jolt of sensation as they brushed against its fully exposed tip drew a gasp from it; thick ichor gushed from Ice's ravaged entrails out of their spade and into the grass as it sputtered.\n\nThe feeling of its lungs aching for air cut through the haze of ecstasy, and Rye jerked back, gagging and coughing bits of fetid viscera back into Ice's beautifully splayed pelt. Their coats both caught a shine from the last rays of the setting sun, resplendent with filth and gore.\n\nRye didn't let up from the interruption. Shifting its weight back, it shoved its full length down their slack throat with a low growl. The impact against their mouth strained the remains of their jaw muscles to their limit, accommodating its ravenous desire with an audible tear.\n\nThe chill sent a shock up Rye's spine, breath hitching again in a sharp yip that startled its voyeuristic onlookers away in a flurry of feathers, leaving the coyote and its deceased paramour fully alone in their evening reunion. The throbbing heat between its rear legs against Ice's cooled flesh set its nerves alight - freezing fire unlike anything it had felt before. \n\nNever before did it have the opportunity to share its passion so completely with another coyote, despite its inclinations toward other species. Life or death did not change that its mind was settled on staying with its new mate, who had quite literally sunk their icy fangs in.\n\nRye locked its eyes with Ice's glassy half-gaze. Each thrust into them, each hot panting breath condensing in the dusk almost pushed it over the edge of pleasure. Before its knot swelled fully in their jaws it slid its slick length out from their throat, trailing a slimy string of leaking precum tinged murky brown with its misdeeds. \n\nIt used every bit of focus left in its couple still-functioning brain cells to gently level a throbbing canine tip against Ice's other, empty hollow of an eye. \n\nThe torn fringes and hollow felt rough at first, but yielded and squished around its shaft as its hips slowly bore down with more force. Rye dug its forepaw claws into their shoulders, opening up new tears in their ragged fur with its grip. \n\nWith a hard buck Rye rammed its cock into the gaping socket.\n\nSoupy, partly decomposed flesh soiled its fur after being forcibly displaced; an abundance of filth dripped off Rye's balls as it buried itself down to the base at its sheath. Ice's softened insides yielded as its thrusts made a new hole to stuff their throat through.\n\nRye hunched over and grabbed a mouthful of exposed rib like it was their scruff, biting into it hard enough to register a crack and the taste of rich and rancid marrow. It pounded their gaping new wound viciously, swelling knot threatening to tie against their skull - the frothy decay coating its length gave it just enough lubrication to knotfuck the socket with a wet pop of suction on each hump.\n\nIt was like experiencing pleasure itself for the very first time, a torrent of sensation about to bubble over. Inside and out, their bodies knew each other now, indelible marks left upon Rye's desire like the sublime havoc carved into Ice's remains. A huff escaped Rye's lips as climax overtook it in a flood, and it buried its snout hungrily inside Ice's open chest. Each ragged breath smothered it in their putrid musk, muzzle drenched with their effluent rot.\n\nGiving one final thrust, its pulsing knot tied firm with Ice's eye socket, cold gore clenching like a vice around its member jammed snug in their head. \n\nConvulsing waves of pleasure shook Rye's body as its filth-soaked balls clenched, flooding the cavity and their throat with its hot cum. The ring of bone binding them inseparably milked spurt after spurt out of it, forming a tight seal that forced every drop deep into Ice's skull. Rye growled low in ecstasy as it pumped its deceased mate full to bursting; Ice's torn nose overflowed with a muck of warm seed and festering slop from their union, steaming in the evening air as it seeped out and dripped off their muzzle. \n\nHead still deep in their chest, Rye nearly choked as its mouth suddenly filled with a flood of the sludge that had oozed its way through Ice's ruined throat. It gulped the mess down voraciously, despite its protesting body threatening to retch the corruption filling its stomach back up. \n\nRye reeled back and gasped for air again as its lungs couldn't hold out any longer. Viscous slime and every fluid a body alive or dead could produce drenched every inch of its fur, from paws to tail. What was once a light tan coat the color of dry summer grass was unrecognizable - splattered in the macabre stains of their deeds. \n\nA steady stream of soupy rot and saliva trailed from its ravenous jaws onto its claim, Ice's corpse no less a picture of wanton indulgence of passion than the panting coyote standing above them. Their head lifted off the ground as Rye stood shakily, still knotted tightly inside of their skull.\n\nSlowly, the veil lifted from Rye's senses; its body felt drained of vigor as the dying rays of sunlight set on the edge of the forest, an almost silent dusk standing witness to their acts. Its breath frosted in the nighttime air, but despite the air and the cool carcass of its new mate hanging from its groin, Rye felt warmer than it ever had. It grinned again, teeth bared in carnal satisfaction, softening with an admiring glance behind at its deathly paramour. \n\nRye laid back down in a drier spot, reclining in a comfortable position with Ice still tied between its legs. It began to lazily clean the muck from its filthy coat, savoring every drop drawn from the soaked fur like a delicacy.\n\nIt didn't make much progress by the time the moon had come up, and its knot had finally softened enough to slop out of Ice's well-used eye socket. The pale blue-white stare of their intact eye looked back at it with a glistening splatter shining in the cavernous hole on the other side; it met their gaze warmly. With a comfortable stretch, and a long yawn, Rye stood in the carnage of its passion awash in moonlight. Pulling at the scraggly fur of Ice's scruff gingerly with its mouth, it tested their weight as it dragged them across the clearing back the way it had come. \n\nIt was a long walk back to Rye's den, and it was eager to get reacquainted with every inch of it with Ice.\n\n\n"
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After a couple days more of scrounging for scraps, Rye's hunger and curiosity, and to its slight surprise, lust had gotten the better of it. \n\nTheir piercing blue-white eyes hanging still in dusky fur had struck Rye still when they had first met - like a glint from icicles in the treeline betraying a dangerous allure alongside their exuberance. Whether that allure of danger had been from them, or from associating with a coyote this unreliable, Rye had yet to determine. What it could determine, though, was the pressing need its body was feeling to find out. The chill winter air had just begun to stir with a breeze of springtime, and it couldn't hurt to have company when it did. \n\nThat was, if Rye could track them down again.\n\nAnd, if there was as much left on that carcass as they had promised, there should at least be some scraps the birds hadn't got to yet, it thought hopefully. Its trailing thoughts had left its nose to direct its paws straight to an elk carcass in a small clearing, one without much but bone left, and an absolute cacophony of scents. It abruptly stopped dead in its tracks, hackles raised as soon as the barrage of trails hit its nose. A straggling pair of crows beat their wings and lifted off from the remains without much fanfare, and it was left alone to piece together the mess. \n\nIts heart started to pound faster, in the flurry stood out Ice's sharp scent, the protest of a few crows... and at least a few wolves. It inhaled deep in the heady tang of blood more recent than the elk; in gross protest of yet another missed meal, its stomach growled loudly. Rye exhaled an exacerbated growl over the conflicting concern and frustration and shook its head. This is why they had both planned to go together.\n\nThe scent of blood and the lingering melange of animals had all but suffocated its good sense as its head swam in indulgent thoughts, and reluctantly it ducked away into the crushed and blood-slick grass surrounding the clearing. It didn't see any sign of them around, but another trail leading away all but confirmed what the crows above had already suggested. \n\nThis time, the scent of both panic and blood led Rye on, and sent a shiver of anticipation up through its paws. Even as it stalked along, wary of any threats beyond the tall grass, the tension in the air was utterly enticing; it felt the tip of its shaft touch the cool evening air as it slipped out of the sheath. Even if they were another coyote, Rye couldn't help but drool a bit at the intoxicating trail Ice had left when they suddenly found themselves the prey.\n\nRye's heated breath was faintly visible in the cool evening air, a haze that did little to obscure the ruddy patches of dried blood in the underbrush that it followed. Overhead, it could hear the flapping of the circling crows wings now -  as the wind shifted, an all too familiar sickly-sweet scent of decay reached its sensitive nose.\n\nPoking its head through the edge of the grass just where the treeline began, the smell of days old kill became palpable in the air. In a small recess between two pines lay a dusky coat with a miraculously intact pale blue eye staring back at it. A hollow of picked-over gore was all that was left of where the other eye once sat; yet their gaze only captivated Rye even more now, an unearthliness that it couldn't help but be drawn to.\n\nRye's fascination lay not only in the thrill of stalking the scent of prey on the run, nose unraveling the story of the chase in enrapturing detail, but especially in what lay beyond the kill it inevitably found. Every step in pursuit to their grisly end, every scrap devoured, every inch of itself buried inside their body, and every inch of theirs inside of its brought it closer to them -  a visceral reverence for the cycle of life and death. Of scavenger and carrion.\n\nAnd it was a scavenger, through and through. \n\nWhen naught but gnawed scraps remained of the carcass it had come to know well inside its own body, it always ensured it paid its respects by returning the favor. Slimy cervine bones caressing the length of its knotted cock as it would thrust against the pelvises of deer left by the larger scavengers for the insects to pick over. Underbelly fur matted in putrid gore, the deer's spine clenched in its powerful jaws as it reached a shuddering climax, seed sprayed into a fertile womb of fur, soil, and decay, stirring brooding flies underneath.\n\nRye's reverie was interrupted by running almost face first into the remnants of its acquaintance, as if they were drawn straight from its overindulgent memory. It inhaled the syrupy perfume of flourishing putrefaction, mouth watering unbidden at the vulgar sensory feast sprawled before it. Patches of bird-pecked flesh leered out from Ice's tattered scraps of dark, grayish pelt, almost shimmering with an iridescence from the few insects that had taken a liking to the offerings.\n\nThe tail end of winter still showing its thick coat, the days and nights had not been so warm as to have roused many bugs from their overwintering; and so there was no bothersome swarm to contend with despite the days that had passed. Rye leaned intimately close, whiskers brushing against the tips of Ice's fangs poking out from their parted jaws, and lapped at the viscous, congealing ichor drying on their slack lips. The metallic bite of condensed blood mixed with souring rot soaked its tongue, which had begun to loll out from its panting jaws. It nibbled playfully at the frayed edge of their ear, and gave another lick for good measure. In life, Ice might've seen it as a courting gesture, and Rye saw it as just that, still.\n\nIt looked like it wouldn't be missing out on having springtime company, after all.\n\nLeaning away, it took in their form in full. While their body had cut an elegant shape even in the final days of winter, death had only further exposed it. Without the modesty provided by full cover of their dense winter coat, it was plain to see the remains of a banquet of solidly built muscle underneath. Also plain to see, was how they had met their fate. As prey, indeed.\n\nLarge gouges from crushing jaws and serrating teeth marred Ice's haunches, while their belly was lavishly rent apart, spilled entrails left to decay on sordid display. What little control over its fantasies remained promptly left Rye's body at the sight; gawking openly, it failed to conceal its naked arousal, sheath outlining its already swelling length. \n\nAn inkling of sense left in Rye's head told it to give its surroundings a cursory glance, and it reluctantly lifted its head to do so, with no sign of the wolves who had chased Ice to their end. From what it could smell in the stale trail from the elk, those wolves had chased them off probably not long after Rye had last seen them. It could've followed along in their overconfidence, but it probably would've found its end right alongside them here. Romantic, and perhaps fitting, but it would have all the time in the world to rot alongside them in the end.\n\nThe only eyes that met its gaze were the leering glossy eyes of a pair of crows in the trees. Rye briefly locked eyes before looking back down, it thought it recognized the two, they often showed up even after there wasn't much left to eat when it was around, and it had a hunch the two simply enjoyed the show. Rye wasn't one to shy away from exhibition, anyway. Countless others were fed upon and were fed by their life and death. To love all parts of that cycle and display it to the world, it mused, was to connect with their nature in the purest sense.\n\nRye couldn't resist a bow and a bounce out of excitement. Ice was a handsome mate, one it wouldn't spare any expense with in intimacy, even if they were indisposed to respond now.\n\nIt trod assuredly around to Ice's rump. Missing their intended meal, there was little mess beneath their scruffy tail as sometimes comes with such a state; just a beautifully pallid spade, with an assortment of their mingled juices leaking out and wetting their fur. Rye pressed in and dragged its tongue eagerly across the folds, heavy musk redolent with their scent which had grown ripe with blood and spoilage. \n\nPassionately it lapped up their draining juices, lubricating its rough tongue as it pressed against the nub of their clit. Rye's eyes closed in indulgent bliss, forcing its snout further into their cold, yielding flesh, drinking in the lurid detail in the decomposing patches deeper inside. With a wet squelch, it felt the bare chill of air on the tip of its tongue again. \n\nSurprised, its eyes flicked back open to find the pink of its tongue poking out through Ice's shredded belly, meeting open space in the gap left by their gutting. Its lips pulled back in a canine grin as an idea unfurled in its mind. It was always one to make the best of the situation, and what wonderful ways it could treat its mate when those wolves had graciously left it so many new avenues to explore.\n\nWith a huff it slid its tongue out from their spade, drooling a sludgy mess of their fluids and its saliva, face stained dark and slick from the mixture.\n\nStepping over Ice, Rye flopped down and planted its face right into the festering cavity in their belly. Tearing and gulping voraciously at the rotting scraps inside with its teeth, it worked its way deeper until it managed to push its tongue back through the opening it had first come through. A trickle of fluids seeped out from their spade while Rye worked its tongue back inside them, widening this new way in between their cold walls.\n\nIt thrust its hips unbidden against the side of their face, grinding aimlessly against tattered fur and the occasional scrape of a fang -  mind starting to go blank as it worked its tongue further and further in, utterly enveloped by Ice's embrace.\n\nRye's reckless humping finally found purchase, bloodied teeth pressing against Rye's sheath as it spread their jaws further apart. The sudden jolt of sensation as they brushed against its fully exposed tip drew a gasp from it; thick ichor gushed from Ice's ravaged entrails out of their spade and into the grass as it sputtered.\n\nThe feeling of its lungs aching for air cut through the haze of ecstasy, and Rye jerked back, gagging and coughing bits of fetid viscera back into Ice's beautifully splayed pelt. Their coats both caught a shine from the last rays of the setting sun, resplendent with filth and gore.\n\nRye didn't let up from the interruption. Shifting its weight back, it shoved its full length down their slack throat with a low growl. The impact against their mouth strained the remains of their jaw muscles to their limit, accommodating its ravenous desire with an audible tear.\n\nThe chill sent a shock up Rye's spine, breath hitching again in a sharp yip that startled its voyeuristic onlookers away in a flurry of feathers, leaving the coyote and its deceased paramour fully alone in their evening reunion. The throbbing heat between its rear legs against Ice's cooled flesh set its nerves alight - freezing fire unlike anything it had felt before. \n\nNever before did it have the opportunity to share its passion so completely with another coyote, despite its inclinations toward other species. Life or death did not change that its mind was settled on staying with its new mate, who had quite literally sunk their icy fangs in.\n\nRye locked its eyes with Ice's glassy half-gaze. Each thrust into them, each hot panting breath condensing in the dusk almost pushed it over the edge of pleasure. Before its knot swelled fully in their jaws it slid its slick length out from their throat, trailing a slimy string of leaking precum tinged murky brown with its misdeeds. \n\nIt used every bit of focus left in its couple still-functioning brain cells to gently level a throbbing canine tip against Ice's other, empty hollow of an eye. \n\nThe torn fringes and hollow felt rough at first, but yielded and squished around its shaft as its hips slowly bore down with more force. Rye dug its forepaw claws into their shoulders, opening up new tears in their ragged fur with its grip. \n\nWith a hard buck Rye rammed its cock into the gaping socket.\n\nSoupy, partly decomposed flesh soiled its fur after being forcibly displaced; an abundance of filth dripped off Rye's balls as it buried itself down to the base at its sheath. Ice's softened insides yielded as its thrusts made a new hole to stuff their throat through.\n\nRye hunched over and grabbed a mouthful of exposed rib like it was their scruff, biting into it hard enough to register a crack and the taste of rich and rancid marrow. It pounded their gaping new wound viciously, swelling knot threatening to tie against their skull - the frothy decay coating its length gave it just enough lubrication to knotfuck the socket with a wet pop of suction on each hump.\n\nIt was like experiencing pleasure itself for the very first time, a torrent of sensation about to bubble over. Inside and out, their bodies knew each other now, indelible marks left upon Rye's desire like the sublime havoc carved into Ice's remains. A huff escaped Rye's lips as climax overtook it in a flood, and it buried its snout hungrily inside Ice's open chest. Each ragged breath smothered it in their putrid musk, muzzle drenched with their effluent rot.\n\nGiving one final thrust, its pulsing knot tied firm with Ice's eye socket, cold gore clenching like a vice around its member jammed snug in their head. \n\nConvulsing waves of pleasure shook Rye's body as its filth-soaked balls clenched, flooding the cavity and their throat with its hot cum. The ring of bone binding them inseparably milked spurt after spurt out of it, forming a tight seal that forced every drop deep into Ice's skull. Rye growled low in ecstasy as it pumped its deceased mate full to bursting; Ice's torn nose overflowed with a muck of warm seed and festering slop from their union, steaming in the evening air as it seeped out and dripped off their muzzle. \n\nHead still deep in their chest, Rye nearly choked as its mouth suddenly filled with a flood of the sludge that had oozed its way through Ice's ruined throat. It gulped the mess down voraciously, despite its protesting body threatening to retch the corruption filling its stomach back up. \n\nRye reeled back and gasped for air again as its lungs couldn't hold out any longer. Viscous slime and every fluid a body alive or dead could produce drenched every inch of its fur, from paws to tail. What was once a light tan coat the color of dry summer grass was unrecognizable - splattered in the macabre stains of their deeds. \n\nA steady stream of soupy rot and saliva trailed from its ravenous jaws onto its claim, Ice's corpse no less a picture of wanton indulgence of passion than the panting coyote standing above them. Their head lifted off the ground as Rye stood shakily, still knotted tightly inside of their skull.\n\nSlowly, the veil lifted from Rye's senses; its body felt drained of vigor as the dying rays of sunlight set on the edge of the forest, an almost silent dusk standing witness to their acts. Its breath frosted in the nighttime air, but despite the air and the cool carcass of its new mate hanging from its groin, Rye felt warmer than it ever had. It grinned again, teeth bared in carnal satisfaction, softening with an admiring glance behind at its deathly paramour. \n\nRye laid back down in a drier spot, reclining in a comfortable position with Ice still tied between its legs. It began to lazily clean the muck from its filthy coat, savoring every drop drawn from the soaked fur like a delicacy.\n\nIt didn't make much progress by the time the moon had come up, and its knot had finally softened enough to slop out of Ice's well-used eye socket. The pale blue-white stare of their intact eye looked back at it with a glistening splatter shining in the cavernous hole on the other side; it met their gaze warmly. With a comfortable stretch, and a long yawn, Rye stood in the carnage of its passion awash in moonlight. Pulling at the scraggly fur of Ice's scruff gingerly with its mouth, it tested their weight as it dragged them across the clearing back the way it had come. \n\nIt was a long walk back to Rye's den, and it was eager to get reacquainted with every inch of it with Ice.\n\n\n"
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  "writing": "A murder gathered, small corvid inkblots in the clear sky, but it was a ways off from where it seemed that Rye was headed. It dropped its dusty snout back down into the soil to pick out the trail of a coyote, still lingering, but faint on the disturbed tall grasses.\n\nThey had bounded up, all paws off the ground when telling it about the remains of an elk they had found with plenty of scraps for both of them to share, and had agreed to meet there that evening. By the trail it had picked up, though, it assumed their excitement had got the better of them, and they had gone on almost right after.\n\nThat was a few days ago now, and when they didn't show up that evening, Rye had just assumed that Eyes like Ice - that was what they said their name was, and as Rye's name was ``Coat like Ryegrass'', they had also shortened it to just ``Ice`` - had simply forgotten about their meeting, or decided to take the rest for themselves. After a couple days more of scrounging for scraps, Rye's hunger and curiosity, and to its slight surprise, lust had gotten the better of it. \n\nTheir piercing blue-white eyes hanging still in dusky fur had struck Rye still when they had first met - like a glint from icicles in the treeline betraying a dangerous allure alongside their exuberance. Whether that allure of danger had been from them, or from associating with a coyote this unreliable, Rye had yet to determine. What it could determine, though, was the pressing need its body was feeling to find out. The chill winter air had just begun to stir with a breeze of springtime, and it couldn't hurt to have company when it did. \n\nThat was, if Rye could track them down again.\n\nAnd, if there was as much left on that carcass as they had promised, there should at least be some scraps the birds hadn't got to yet, it thought hopefully. Its trailing thoughts had left its nose to direct its paws straight to an elk carcass in a small clearing, one without much but bone left, and an absolute cacophony of scents. It abruptly stopped dead in its tracks, hackles raised as soon as the barrage of trails hit its nose. A straggling pair of crows beat their wings and lifted off from the remains without much fanfare, and it was left alone to piece together the mess. \n\nIts heart started to pound faster, in the flurry stood out Ice's sharp scent, the protest of a few crows... and at least a few wolves. It inhaled deep in the heady tang of blood more recent than the elk; in gross protest of yet another missed meal, its stomach growled loudly. Rye exhaled an exacerbated growl over the conflicting concern and frustration and shook its head. This is why they had both planned to go together.\n\nThe scent of blood and the lingering melange of animals had all but suffocated its good sense as its head swam in indulgent thoughts, and reluctantly it ducked away into the crushed and blood-slick grass surrounding the clearing. It didn't see any sign of them around, but another trail leading away all but confirmed what the crows above had already suggested. \n\nThis time, the scent of both panic and blood led Rye on, and sent a shiver of anticipation up through its paws. Even as it stalked along, wary of any threats beyond the tall grass, the tension in the air was utterly enticing; it felt the tip of its shaft touch the cool evening air as it slipped out of the sheath. Even if they were another coyote, Rye couldn't help but drool a bit at the intoxicating trail Ice had left when they suddenly found themselves the prey.\n\nRye's heated breath was faintly visible in the cool evening air, a haze that did little to obscure the ruddy patches of dried blood in the underbrush that it followed. Overhead, it could hear the flapping of the circling crows wings now -  as the wind shifted, an all too familiar sickly-sweet scent of decay reached its sensitive nose.\n\nPoking its head through the edge of the grass just where the treeline began, the smell of days old kill became palpable in the air. In a small recess between two pines lay a dusky coat with a miraculously intact pale blue eye staring back at it. A hollow of picked-over gore was all that was left of where the other eye once sat; yet their gaze only captivated Rye even more now, an unearthliness that it couldn't help but be drawn to.\n\nRye's fascination lay not only in the thrill of stalking the scent of prey on the run, nose unraveling the story of the chase in enrapturing detail, but especially in what lay beyond the kill it inevitably found. Every step in pursuit to their grisly end, every scrap devoured, every inch of itself buried inside their body, and every inch of theirs inside of its brought it closer to them -  a visceral reverence for the cycle of life and death. Of scavenger and carrion.\n\nAnd it was a scavenger, through and through. \n\nWhen naught but gnawed scraps remained of the carcass it had come to know well inside its own body, it always ensured it paid its respects by returning the favor. Slimy cervine bones caressing the length of its knotted cock as it would thrust against the pelvises of deer left by the larger scavengers for the insects to pick over. Underbelly fur matted in putrid gore, the deer's spine clenched in its powerful jaws as it reached a shuddering climax, seed sprayed into a fertile womb of fur, soil, and decay, stirring brooding flies underneath.\n\nRye's reverie was interrupted by running almost face first into the remnants of its acquaintance, as if they were drawn straight from its overindulgent memory. It inhaled the syrupy perfume of flourishing putrefaction, mouth watering unbidden at the vulgar sensory feast sprawled before it. Patches of bird-pecked flesh leered out from Ice's tattered scraps of dark, grayish pelt, almost shimmering with an iridescence from the few insects that had taken a liking to the offerings.\n\nThe tail end of winter still showing its thick coat, the days and nights had not been so warm as to have roused many bugs from their overwintering; and so there was no bothersome swarm to contend with despite the days that had passed. Rye leaned intimately close, whiskers brushing against the tips of Ice's fangs poking out from their parted jaws, and lapped at the viscous, congealing ichor drying on their slack lips. The metallic bite of condensed blood mixed with souring rot soaked its tongue, which had begun to loll out from its panting jaws. It nibbled playfully at the frayed edge of their ear, and gave another lick for good measure. In life, Ice might've seen it as a courting gesture, and Rye saw it as just that, still.\n\nIt looked like it wouldn't be missing out on having springtime company, after all.\n\nLeaning away, it took in their form in full. While their body had cut an elegant shape even in the final days of winter, death had only further exposed it. Without the modesty provided by full cover of their dense winter coat, it was plain to see the remains of a banquet of solidly built muscle underneath. Also plain to see, was how they had met their fate. As prey, indeed.\n\nLarge gouges from crushing jaws and serrating teeth marred Ice's haunches, while their belly was lavishly rent apart, spilled entrails left to decay on sordid display. What little control over its fantasies remained promptly left Rye's body at the sight; gawking openly, it failed to conceal its naked arousal, sheath outlining its already swelling length. \n\nAn inkling of sense left in Rye's head told it to give its surroundings a cursory glance, and it reluctantly lifted its head to do so, with no sign of the wolves who had chased Ice to their end. From what it could smell in the stale trail from the elk, those wolves had chased them off probably not long after Rye had last seen them. It could've followed along in their overconfidence, but it probably would've found its end right alongside them here. Romantic, and perhaps fitting, but it would have all the time in the world to rot alongside them in the end.\n\nThe only eyes that met its gaze were the leering glossy eyes of a pair of crows in the trees. Rye briefly locked eyes before looking back down, it thought it recognized the two, they often showed up even after there wasn't much left to eat when it was around, and it had a hunch the two simply enjoyed the show. Rye wasn't one to shy away from exhibition, anyway. Countless others were fed upon and were fed by their life and death. To love all parts of that cycle and display it to the world, it mused, was to connect with their nature in the purest sense.\n\nRye couldn't resist a bow and a bounce out of excitement. Ice was a handsome mate, one it wouldn't spare any expense with in intimacy, even if they were indisposed to respond now.\n\nIt trod assuredly around to Ice's rump. Missing their intended meal, there was little mess beneath their scruffy tail as sometimes comes with such a state; just a beautifully pallid spade, with an assortment of their mingled juices leaking out and wetting their fur. Rye pressed in and dragged its tongue eagerly across the folds, heavy musk redolent with their scent which had grown ripe with blood and spoilage. \n\nPassionately it lapped up their draining juices, lubricating its rough tongue as it pressed against the nub of their clit. Rye's eyes closed in indulgent bliss, forcing its snout further into their cold, yielding flesh, drinking in the lurid detail in the decomposing patches deeper inside. With a wet squelch, it felt the bare chill of air on the tip of its tongue again. \n\nSurprised, its eyes flicked back open to find the pink of its tongue poking out through Ice's shredded belly, meeting open space in the gap left by their gutting. Its lips pulled back in a canine grin as an idea unfurled in its mind. It was always one to make the best of the situation, and what wonderful ways it could treat its mate when those wolves had graciously left it so many new avenues to explore.\n\nWith a huff it slid its tongue out from their spade, drooling a sludgy mess of their fluids and its saliva, face stained dark and slick from the mixture.\n\nStepping over Ice, Rye flopped down and planted its face right into the festering cavity in their belly. Tearing and gulping voraciously at the rotting scraps inside with its teeth, it worked its way deeper until it managed to push its tongue back through the opening it had first come through. A trickle of fluids seeped out from their spade while Rye worked its tongue back inside them, widening this new way in between their cold walls.\n\nIt thrust its hips unbidden against the side of their face, grinding aimlessly against tattered fur and the occasional scrape of a fang -  mind starting to go blank as it worked its tongue further and further in, utterly enveloped by Ice's embrace.\n\nRye's reckless humping finally found purchase, bloodied teeth pressing against Rye's sheath as it spread their jaws further apart. The sudden jolt of sensation as they brushed against its fully exposed tip drew a gasp from it; thick ichor gushed from Ice's ravaged entrails out of their spade and into the grass as it sputtered.\n\nThe feeling of its lungs aching for air cut through the haze of ecstasy, and Rye jerked back, gagging and coughing bits of fetid viscera back into Ice's beautifully splayed pelt. Their coats both caught a shine from the last rays of the setting sun, resplendent with filth and gore.\n\nRye didn't let up from the interruption. Shifting its weight back, it shoved its full length down their slack throat with a low growl. The impact against their mouth strained the remains of their jaw muscles to their limit, accommodating its ravenous desire with an audible tear.\n\nThe chill sent a shock up Rye's spine, breath hitching again in a sharp yip that startled its voyeuristic onlookers away in a flurry of feathers, leaving the coyote and its deceased paramour fully alone in their evening reunion. The throbbing heat between its rear legs against Ice's cooled flesh set its nerves alight - freezing fire unlike anything it had felt before. \n\nNever before did it have the opportunity to share its passion so completely with another coyote, despite its inclinations toward other species. Life or death did not change that its mind was settled on staying with its new mate, who had quite literally sunk their icy fangs in.\n\nRye locked its eyes with Ice's glassy half-gaze. Each thrust into them, each hot panting breath condensing in the dusk almost pushed it over the edge of pleasure. Before its knot swelled fully in their jaws it slid its slick length out from their throat, trailing a slimy string of leaking precum tinged murky brown with its misdeeds. \n\nIt used every bit of focus left in its couple still-functioning brain cells to gently level a throbbing canine tip against Ice's other, empty hollow of an eye. \n\nThe torn fringes and hollow felt rough at first, but yielded and squished around its shaft as its hips slowly bore down with more force. Rye dug its forepaw claws into their shoulders, opening up new tears in their ragged fur with its grip. \n\nWith a hard buck Rye rammed its cock into the gaping socket.\n\nSoupy, partly decomposed flesh soiled its fur after being forcibly displaced; an abundance of filth dripped off Rye's balls as it buried itself down to the base at its sheath. Ice's softened insides yielded as its thrusts made a new hole to stuff their throat through.\n\nRye hunched over and grabbed a mouthful of exposed rib like it was their scruff, biting into it hard enough to register a crack and the taste of rich and rancid marrow. It pounded their gaping new wound viciously, swelling knot threatening to tie against their skull - the frothy decay coating its length gave it just enough lubrication to knotfuck the socket with a wet pop of suction on each hump.\n\nIt was like experiencing pleasure itself for the very first time, a torrent of sensation about to bubble over. Inside and out, their bodies knew each other now, indelible marks left upon Rye's desire like the sublime havoc carved into Ice's remains. A huff escaped Rye's lips as climax overtook it in a flood, and it buried its snout hungrily inside Ice's open chest. Each ragged breath smothered it in their putrid musk, muzzle drenched with their effluent rot.\n\nGiving one final thrust, its pulsing knot tied firm with Ice's eye socket, cold gore clenching like a vice around its member jammed snug in their head. \n\nConvulsing waves of pleasure shook Rye's body as its filth-soaked balls clenched, flooding the cavity and their throat with its hot cum. The ring of bone binding them inseparably milked spurt after spurt out of it, forming a tight seal that forced every drop deep into Ice's skull. Rye growled low in ecstasy as it pumped its deceased mate full to bursting; Ice's torn nose overflowed with a muck of warm seed and festering slop from their union, steaming in the evening air as it seeped out and dripped off their muzzle. \n\nHead still deep in their chest, Rye nearly choked as its mouth suddenly filled with a flood of the sludge that had oozed its way through Ice's ruined throat. It gulped the mess down voraciously, despite its protesting body threatening to retch the corruption filling its stomach back up. \n\nRye reeled back and gasped for air again as its lungs couldn't hold out any longer. Viscous slime and every fluid a body alive or dead could produce drenched every inch of its fur, from paws to tail. What was once a light tan coat the color of dry summer grass was unrecognizable - splattered in the macabre stains of their deeds. \n\nA steady stream of soupy rot and saliva trailed from its ravenous jaws onto its claim, Ice's corpse no less a picture of wanton indulgence of passion than the panting coyote standing above them. Their head lifted off the ground as Rye stood shakily, still knotted tightly inside of their skull.\n\nSlowly, the veil lifted from Rye's senses; its body felt drained of vigor as the dying rays of sunlight set on the edge of the forest, an almost silent dusk standing witness to their acts. Its breath frosted in the nighttime air, but despite the air and the cool carcass of its new mate hanging from its groin, Rye felt warmer than it ever had. It grinned again, teeth bared in carnal satisfaction, softening with an admiring glance behind at its deathly paramour. \n\nRye laid back down in a drier spot, reclining in a comfortable position with Ice still tied between its legs. It began to lazily clean the muck from its filthy coat, savoring every drop drawn from the soaked fur like a delicacy.\n\nIt didn't make much progress by the time the moon had come up, and its knot had finally softened enough to slop out of Ice's well-used eye socket. The pale blue-white stare of their intact eye looked back at it with a glistening splatter shining in the cavernous hole on the other side; it met their gaze warmly. With a comfortable stretch, and a long yawn, Rye stood in the carnage of its passion awash in moonlight. Pulling at the scraggly fur of Ice's scruff gingerly with its mouth, it tested their weight as it dragged them across the clearing back the way it had come. \n\nIt was a long walk back to Rye's den, and it was eager to get reacquainted with every inch of it with Ice.\n\n\n"
}

{
  "description": "haven't written anything in a loooong time, but the mood struck me to create some slop ehe"
}

{
  "writing": "A murder gathered, small corvid inkblots in the clear sky, but it was a ways off from where it seemed that Rye was headed. It dropped its dusty snout back down into the soil to pick out the trail of a coyote, still lingering, but faint on the disturbed tall grasses.\n\nThey had bounded up, all paws off the ground when telling it about the remains of an elk they had found with plenty of scraps for both of them to share, and had agreed to meet there that evening. By the trail it had picked up, though, it assumed their excitement had got the better of them, and they had gone on almost right after.\n\nThat was a few days ago now, and when they didn't show up that evening, Rye had just assumed that Eyes like Ice - that was what they said their name was, and as Rye's name was ``Coat like Ryegrass'', they had also shortened it to just ``Ice`` - had simply forgotten about their meeting, or decided to take the rest for themselves. After a couple days more of scrounging for scraps, Rye's hunger and curiosity, and to its slight surprise, lust had gotten the better of it. \n\nTheir piercing blue-white eyes hanging still in dusky fur had struck Rye still when they had first met - like a glint from icicles in the treeline betraying a dangerous allure alongside their exuberance. Whether that allure of danger had been from them, or from associating with a coyote this unreliable, Rye had yet to determine. What it could determine, though, was the pressing need its body was feeling to find out. The chill winter air had just begun to stir with a breeze of springtime, and it couldn't hurt to have company when it did. \n\nThat was, if Rye could track them down again.\n\nAnd, if there was as much left on that carcass as they had promised, there should at least be some scraps the birds hadn't got to yet, it thought hopefully. Its trailing thoughts had left its nose to direct its paws straight to an elk carcass in a small clearing, one without much but bone left, and an absolute cacophony of scents. It abruptly stopped dead in its tracks, hackles raised as soon as the barrage of trails hit its nose. A straggling pair of crows beat their wings and lifted off from the remains without much fanfare, and it was left alone to piece together the mess. \n\nIts heart started to pound faster, in the flurry stood out Ice's sharp scent, the protest of a few crows... and at least a few wolves. It inhaled deep in the heady tang of blood more recent than the elk; in gross protest of yet another missed meal, its stomach growled loudly. Rye exhaled an exacerbated growl over the conflicting concern and frustration and shook its head. This is why they had both planned to go together.\n\nThe scent of blood and the lingering melange of animals had all but suffocated its good sense as its head swam in indulgent thoughts, and reluctantly it ducked away into the crushed and blood-slick grass surrounding the clearing. It didn't see any sign of them around, but another trail leading away all but confirmed what the crows above had already suggested. \n\nThis time, the scent of both panic and blood led Rye on, and sent a shiver of anticipation up through its paws. Even as it stalked along, wary of any threats beyond the tall grass, the tension in the air was utterly enticing; it felt the tip of its shaft touch the cool evening air as it slipped out of the sheath. Even if they were another coyote, Rye couldn't help but drool a bit at the intoxicating trail Ice had left when they suddenly found themselves the prey.\n\nRye's heated breath was faintly visible in the cool evening air, a haze that did little to obscure the ruddy patches of dried blood in the underbrush that it followed. Overhead, it could hear the flapping of the circling crows wings now -  as the wind shifted, an all too familiar sickly-sweet scent of decay reached its sensitive nose.\n\nPoking its head through the edge of the grass just where the treeline began, the smell of days old kill became palpable in the air. In a small recess between two pines lay a dusky coat with a miraculously intact pale blue eye staring back at it. A hollow of picked-over gore was all that was left of where the other eye once sat; yet their gaze only captivated Rye even more now, an unearthliness that it couldn't help but be drawn to.\n\nRye's fascination lay not only in the thrill of stalking the scent of prey on the run, nose unraveling the story of the chase in enrapturing detail, but especially in what lay beyond the kill it inevitably found. Every step in pursuit to their grisly end, every scrap devoured, every inch of itself buried inside their body, and every inch of theirs inside of its brought it closer to them -  a visceral reverence for the cycle of life and death. Of scavenger and carrion.\n\nAnd it was a scavenger, through and through. \n\nWhen naught but gnawed scraps remained of the carcass it had come to know well inside its own body, it always ensured it paid its respects by returning the favor. Slimy cervine bones caressing the length of its knotted cock as it would thrust against the pelvises of deer left by the larger scavengers for the insects to pick over. Underbelly fur matted in putrid gore, the deer's spine clenched in its powerful jaws as it reached a shuddering climax, seed sprayed into a fertile womb of fur, soil, and decay, stirring brooding flies underneath.\n\nRye's reverie was interrupted by running almost face first into the remnants of its acquaintance, as if they were drawn straight from its overindulgent memory. It inhaled the syrupy perfume of flourishing putrefaction, mouth watering unbidden at the vulgar sensory feast sprawled before it. Patches of bird-pecked flesh leered out from Ice's tattered scraps of dark, grayish pelt, almost shimmering with an iridescence from the few insects that had taken a liking to the offerings.\n\nThe tail end of winter still showing its thick coat, the days and nights had not been so warm as to have roused many bugs from their overwintering; and so there was no bothersome swarm to contend with despite the days that had passed. Rye leaned intimately close, whiskers brushing against the tips of Ice's fangs poking out from their parted jaws, and lapped at the viscous, congealing ichor drying on their slack lips. The metallic bite of condensed blood mixed with souring rot soaked its tongue, which had begun to loll out from its panting jaws. It nibbled playfully at the frayed edge of their ear, and gave another lick for good measure. In life, Ice might've seen it as a courting gesture, and Rye saw it as just that, still.\n\nIt looked like it wouldn't be missing out on having springtime company, after all.\n\nLeaning away, it took in their form in full. While their body had cut an elegant shape even in the final days of winter, death had only further exposed it. Without the modesty provided by full cover of their dense winter coat, it was plain to see the remains of a banquet of solidly built muscle underneath. Also plain to see, was how they had met their fate. As prey, indeed.\n\nLarge gouges from crushing jaws and serrating teeth marred Ice's haunches, while their belly was lavishly rent apart, spilled entrails left to decay on sordid display. What little control over its fantasies remained promptly left Rye's body at the sight; gawking openly, it failed to conceal its naked arousal, sheath outlining its already swelling length. \n\nAn inkling of sense left in Rye's head told it to give its surroundings a cursory glance, and it reluctantly lifted its head to do so, with no sign of the wolves who had chased Ice to their end. From what it could smell in the stale trail from the elk, those wolves had chased them off probably not long after Rye had last seen them. It could've followed along in their overconfidence, but it probably would've found its end right alongside them here. Romantic, and perhaps fitting, but it would have all the time in the world to rot alongside them in the end.\n\nThe only eyes that met its gaze were the leering glossy eyes of a pair of crows in the trees. Rye briefly locked eyes before looking back down, it thought it recognized the two, they often showed up even after there wasn't much left to eat when it was around, and it had a hunch the two simply enjoyed the show. Rye wasn't one to shy away from exhibition, anyway. Countless others were fed upon and were fed by their life and death. To love all parts of that cycle and display it to the world, it mused, was to connect with their nature in the purest sense.\n\nRye couldn't resist a bow and a bounce out of excitement. Ice was a handsome mate, one it wouldn't spare any expense with in intimacy, even if they were indisposed to respond now.\n\nIt trod assuredly around to Ice's rump. Missing their intended meal, there was little mess beneath their scruffy tail as sometimes comes with such a state; just a beautifully pallid spade, with an assortment of their mingled juices leaking out and wetting their fur. Rye pressed in and dragged its tongue eagerly across the folds, heavy musk redolent with their scent which had grown ripe with blood and spoilage. \n\nPassionately it lapped up their draining juices, lubricating its rough tongue as it pressed against the nub of their clit. Rye's eyes closed in indulgent bliss, forcing its snout further into their cold, yielding flesh, drinking in the lurid detail in the decomposing patches deeper inside. With a wet squelch, it felt the bare chill of air on the tip of its tongue again. \n\nSurprised, its eyes flicked back open to find the pink of its tongue poking out through Ice's shredded belly, meeting open space in the gap left by their gutting. Its lips pulled back in a canine grin as an idea unfurled in its mind. It was always one to make the best of the situation, and what wonderful ways it could treat its mate when those wolves had graciously left it so many new avenues to explore.\n\nWith a huff it slid its tongue out from their spade, drooling a sludgy mess of their fluids and its saliva, face stained dark and slick from the mixture.\n\nStepping over Ice, Rye flopped down and planted its face right into the festering cavity in their belly. Tearing and gulping voraciously at the rotting scraps inside with its teeth, it worked its way deeper until it managed to push its tongue back through the opening it had first come through. A trickle of fluids seeped out from their spade while Rye worked its tongue back inside them, widening this new way in between their cold walls.\n\nIt thrust its hips unbidden against the side of their face, grinding aimlessly against tattered fur and the occasional scrape of a fang -  mind starting to go blank as it worked its tongue further and further in, utterly enveloped by Ice's embrace.\n\nRye's reckless humping finally found purchase, bloodied teeth pressing against Rye's sheath as it spread their jaws further apart. The sudden jolt of sensation as they brushed against its fully exposed tip drew a gasp from it; thick ichor gushed from Ice's ravaged entrails out of their spade and into the grass as it sputtered.\n\nThe feeling of its lungs aching for air cut through the haze of ecstasy, and Rye jerked back, gagging and coughing bits of fetid viscera back into Ice's beautifully splayed pelt. Their coats both caught a shine from the last rays of the setting sun, resplendent with filth and gore.\n\nRye didn't let up from the interruption. Shifting its weight back, it shoved its full length down their slack throat with a low growl. The impact against their mouth strained the remains of their jaw muscles to their limit, accommodating its ravenous desire with an audible tear.\n\nThe chill sent a shock up Rye's spine, breath hitching again in a sharp yip that startled its voyeuristic onlookers away in a flurry of feathers, leaving the coyote and its deceased paramour fully alone in their evening reunion. The throbbing heat between its rear legs against Ice's cooled flesh set its nerves alight - freezing fire unlike anything it had felt before. \n\nNever before did it have the opportunity to share its passion so completely with another coyote, despite its inclinations toward other species. Life or death did not change that its mind was settled on staying with its new mate, who had quite literally sunk their icy fangs in.\n\nRye locked its eyes with Ice's glassy half-gaze. Each thrust into them, each hot panting breath condensing in the dusk almost pushed it over the edge of pleasure. Before its knot swelled fully in their jaws it slid its slick length out from their throat, trailing a slimy string of leaking precum tinged murky brown with its misdeeds. \n\nIt used every bit of focus left in its couple still-functioning brain cells to gently level a throbbing canine tip against Ice's other, empty hollow of an eye. \n\nThe torn fringes and hollow felt rough at first, but yielded and squished around its shaft as its hips slowly bore down with more force. Rye dug its forepaw claws into their shoulders, opening up new tears in their ragged fur with its grip. \n\nWith a hard buck Rye rammed its cock into the gaping socket.\n\nSoupy, partly decomposed flesh soiled its fur after being forcibly displaced; an abundance of filth dripped off Rye's balls as it buried itself down to the base at its sheath. Ice's softened insides yielded as its thrusts made a new hole to stuff their throat through.\n\nRye hunched over and grabbed a mouthful of exposed rib like it was their scruff, biting into it hard enough to register a crack and the taste of rich and rancid marrow. It pounded their gaping new wound viciously, swelling knot threatening to tie against their skull - the frothy decay coating its length gave it just enough lubrication to knotfuck the socket with a wet pop of suction on each hump.\n\nIt was like experiencing pleasure itself for the very first time, a torrent of sensation about to bubble over. Inside and out, their bodies knew each other now, indelible marks left upon Rye's desire like the sublime havoc carved into Ice's remains. A huff escaped Rye's lips as climax overtook it in a flood, and it buried its snout hungrily inside Ice's open chest. Each ragged breath smothered it in their putrid musk, muzzle drenched with their effluent rot.\n\nGiving one final thrust, its pulsing knot tied firm with Ice's eye socket, cold gore clenching like a vice around its member jammed snug in their head. \n\nConvulsing waves of pleasure shook Rye's body as its filth-soaked balls clenched, flooding the cavity and their throat with its hot cum. The ring of bone binding them inseparably milked spurt after spurt out of it, forming a tight seal that forced every drop deep into Ice's skull. Rye growled low in ecstasy as it pumped its deceased mate full to bursting; Ice's torn nose overflowed with a muck of warm seed and festering slop from their union, steaming in the evening air as it seeped out and dripped off their muzzle. \n\nHead still deep in their chest, Rye nearly choked as its mouth suddenly filled with a flood of the sludge that had oozed its way through Ice's ruined throat. It gulped the mess down voraciously, despite its protesting body threatening to retch the corruption filling its stomach back up. \n\nRye reeled back and gasped for air again as its lungs couldn't hold out any longer. Viscous slime and every fluid a body alive or dead could produce drenched every inch of its fur, from paws to tail. What was once a light tan coat the color of dry summer grass was unrecognizable - splattered in the macabre stains of their deeds. \n\nA steady stream of soupy rot and saliva trailed from its ravenous jaws onto its claim, Ice's corpse no less a picture of wanton indulgence of passion than the panting coyote standing above them. Their head lifted off the ground as Rye stood shakily, still knotted tightly inside of their skull.\n\nSlowly, the veil lifted from Rye's senses; its body felt drained of vigor as the dying rays of sunlight set on the edge of the forest, an almost silent dusk standing witness to their acts. Its breath frosted in the nighttime air, but despite the air and the cool carcass of its new mate hanging from its groin, Rye felt warmer than it ever had. It grinned again, teeth bared in carnal satisfaction, softening with an admiring glance behind at its deathly paramour. \n\nRye laid back down in a drier spot, reclining in a comfortable position with Ice still tied between its legs. It began to lazily clean the muck from its filthy coat, savoring every drop drawn from the soaked fur like a delicacy.\n\nIt didn't make much progress by the time the moon had come up, and its knot had finally softened enough to slop out of Ice's well-used eye socket. The pale blue-white stare of their intact eye looked back at it with a glistening splatter shining in the cavernous hole on the other side; it met their gaze warmly. With a comfortable stretch, and a long yawn, Rye stood in the carnage of its passion awash in moonlight. Pulling at the scraggly fur of Ice's scruff gingerly with its mouth, it tested their weight as it dragged them across the clearing back the way it had come. \n\nIt was a long walk back to Rye's den, and it was eager to get reacquainted with every inch of it with Ice.\n\n\n"
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