Delight matches delight, although there's a sinister edge to the pleasure he takes in pleasuring her. Her moans are his sounds of triumph, the sweat rolling down her skin marks his achievements. The thrill of being thrilling, at least for a little while. He doesn't, his mind shows, expect a claim. The memory of the time they share is enough.

In return, as well, the sensations of what her touches do to him. Straddling the line of pain and pleasure, so light and skilled the nails over his body. Already he's hard enough that the want takes on a slight edge of urgency, but nothing that can't be leashed back in a warm grip.

He raises his head just slightly, tilting his neck for her kisses. THe gentle heat is appreciated as much as the sharpness, bringing his fingertips down over her stomach and tracing the curve of her upper and inner thighs. Not quite tickling, not quite teasing as he nears the join of her legs and moves away.