She was a good listener, at least. Better than a dog in that aspect. He was saying things that were relevant to her, and she was looking through his information to find more reasons to hate him. It was a selective ear to lend, but at least it was different than speaking to people who only sifted through his sentences for things they could praise. She made speaking a lot more enjoyable, when he could read her face so he could see what she'd attached to with loathing. Arya was not one to hide her emotions and play with politics. Everything that happened to her echoed vividly on her face.<br/><br/>She insisted on her independence, and the impossibility of it was plain to see in her nudity and pains. In her garden of mottled flowers where he'd planted them, into her organs and on her torso. Tits out and beaten, she'd chosen her own path? He thought it was so delightfully misconceived his cock flexed for her. It was almost as good as addlement, wasn't it, that kind kind of askew self-image. He wanted to tease her about it, but it would be only him seeing the joke. She was this far gone into romanticism. She would not step out to be angry at his jests, and while he didn't require other's amusement to mock them, he'd rather they at least grasp a strand in his meaning. In the end all he could offer for her disillusion was a doubtful brow, and a dismissive scoff.<br/><br/>He sang with her in excitement when she was pulled and surprised by it. Warriors in distress are the best aphrodisiac, and she'd not even thought this could happen, even if she was bare and ready? She needed to be taught so many things. Her other arm to no avail. Her impact was soundly, and he loved her for it. The heat of the grunt even traveled up his waiting cock, and it was happy for the attention. He'd seen the blood when he fed her the fruit, and hoped it tasted well with the sweet wedge. When she put it on the floor with her saliva, there was traces of blood on it, like her mouth had been virgin. But everyone within a grand radius knew it wasn't. More foreplay with her insults, which he drank in to swell his ego, before he punctuated for her. How easily she entertained him with her cerebral reactions. All nerves, this one.<br/><br/>He met her eyes when she turned to him and shrugged at her question. "Would it make your submission feel better to you?" he posed back as he clapped her hip. He was sure she wouldn't rise on that little suggestion, and took his time admiring her behind, which was practical in that it contained the size to accommodate all the musculature of the fighting style she'd chosen. He really wouldn't mind finding his cock in there, somewhere. It would be be tragic if she made it easy for him.<br/><br/>Rysalt instead moved forward, letting go of the cock he was threatening her with to sit on her ass, knees on either side of her. Surely that would bring up the assortment of agonies that lived in her abdomen and chest. He gripped her wings, which was just as demeaning as with her horns in his eyes, and held them by their bases, where her back joined them. It was easy to control her with this, even if she let the span flap. He pressed her down tighter against the carpet and let her remember his cock and balls were on her spine.<br/><br/>"I intend to have some satisfaction with you tonight, to send me off. You can decide whether you want it to be through a beating, which will hopefully tucker me out, and then an unholy fucking, or, if you'd just like the cock right away." he tilted his head, and in the firelight, she'd notice he had none of his charms tangled in his hair or around his neck. "To tell you the truth, Aryel, I am leaning strongly toward raping you raw, so I won't involve the safety or comfort of yours in this. But what do you want?" he asked as precum flattered the space between two vertebrae. His balls contracted on her, to add to the compliment. "Fuck or fight and fuck? You did so well last time."<br/><br/>And, true to his word, he looked very excited over any of the possible outcomes, when he looked back at her.