Whether he's got eyes open or not hardly seems to matter anymore because everything is just a blur, nothing but bleeding colors and heat and shimmering edges and the growing darkness swiftly washing everything out in between. Omega knows he has his face pressed to her throat as he rides it out, claws digging deep furrows in the earth but leaving her skin unmarred. He can smell his own blood, she drew it, and for once it wasn't out of rage or fear.

He's solid for her to melt against, the pulsing sting left by her nails jumping at the pressure, and he can feel every single shiver that her body makes as she comes down from the high. It prompts the same from him, whenever she so much as breathes too deeply. He's been starving for this, for her, for the intimacy they share as mates, and now his senses are gorging themselves on her and his own limbs may not obey him ever again.

When she purrs so beautifully into his ear, he acts without so much as a single thought first. Seconds later she's on her back in the grass and leaves with him on top of her, kissing her like she's come back from the dead.