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Trapped beneath the nameless demon, the sable-furred woman should have been quaking in fear—perhaps if she were a creature of higher intelligence, perhaps if she was not guided solely by her instinctive impulses and the throbbing desire that had grown to fever pitch in her stomach, she might have been—but bleeding and aching as she was, the sable-furred coyote felt nothing but that same burning lust for him in her, pushing her body against him, her head and neck rising from their position against Noir's body to follow his teeth as they left her, a soft moan drawn from her throat as his fingers left her, slipping out of her and leaving her empty and hollowed.
As quickly as he'd left her, however, he replaced that emptiness with something far better, and the sable-furred canine's entire body rocked uprward, quivering to exquisite tightness as he slid into her depths. Finally their bodies connected, and the sable-furred hybrid released her held breath, exhaling it in a moan that was half of a sigh, her chartreuse-colored eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he began to rock into her. There was hardly a rhythm to his movements, but it hardly mattered—she had already been pushed close to the quivering and quaking edge by his fingers; it would not take the rest of him long to finish the job. The sable-furred hybrid's mind was blank, as empty and drained as it had been during the seeing. She was as empty a vessel as she had been then, open and forced to accept all yet unable to project her own will. From somewhere deep within her, though, a thought began as a primal instinct, just a vague tingle of recognition in her—it grew louder and louder, finally becoming a clear thought in her mind. His seed, his children—they could be hers. She wanted them, almost as badly as she had wanted him at first—the sable-furred woman would carry them and cherish them like none other. They would be a gift, a blessing, something bestowed on her from the deepest pitch darkness in his soul.