The way his throat was torn out - leaving Alastor gargling, leaving his body screaming with the high of pain and desperate survival, the fire in his nerves from the desperate spark to survive clashing overwhelmingly with the crackle of pleasure of being rutted into, being so vulgarly filled and pushed to the limit.

And to top all of that off, Vox held his hand? Their claws scratched against each other, but nonetheless, amidst the chaos of feeling the little hint of softness connection tipped the buck over the edge completely. Alastor wetly growled, arching his back and gasping as his body orgasmed - a feeling he rarely chased at all - drawing all it could from the shark that had pinned it.