Nails rake across flesh, leaving long, deep furrows in their wake.

There is no love here. There is only raw, animalistic feeling. Want. Need.

A pained whimper escapes parted lips on the wings of a moan.

Later, there will be bite marks and bruises. But for now, the pain fuels adrenaline that drives them over the edge to drown in sensation.

Teeth sink into the skin in retaliation for the scratches, drawing hot blood from the curved rows.

This imperfect union will be seen as taboo with its shortness and its violent nature. But that would come later. The disgusted looks, the cold shoulders, the whispers and sneers would come later. And “later” is the last thing on their minds.

---

Uh...Yeah...All immature remarks will be laughed at and then ignored.