Her body responded like he wanted. It was easier to play with things that were part animal. His precious girl and the beast in her, they were good fighters, perhaps, but they couldn't hold a lie very well once he'd deciphered their language. Now she was in the throes, and her search was the same as his. Her hard, slippery muscles clamping down was perhaps the most discomfort she could hope to inflict on her new owner, and it was delightful.<br/><br/>He was there, real, when she saw him through her own, new world of promising elation. She awoke, anger bringing a dawn to the blurred out green in her gaze. It was no use to mock her if she didn't realize. His stomach tensed, which also affected the pelvic pillars that controlled the limbs she was enjoying. When she growled it was more of what he had wanted when he'd made her bark. His monster, riding him, pleasing him because she'd been rendered unable to do or want anything else.<br/><br/>It twitched to leave an echo in her belly when she said the one word. His thumb pressed on her lower lip, and his fingers squeezed the bone of her jaw harder. Her hips didn't stop moving. It was too late to refuse him anything. Everything she thought she could do was only going to increase his enjoyment. He even lifted her by that hold, so she couldn't be so far down on him, but soon let her go again, sure she'd resume her depth.<br/><br/>"Varga." he said, as though he recognized the part of her he had named all along. This wolf, this girl, was his. The one that couldn't help herself to please him, that had fury but couldn't resolve it in any other way than his pleasure.<br/><br/>He pushed his palm into her chin to bend her head back and bare her throat, it was a dismissive gesture, but it let him try her in another angle. He held her head tightly, and slid his finger into her mouth and pushed her tongue down, the way you would while examining teeth of dogs to keep them from biting. If he did feel the threat of her fangs and their revenge, anyway, he'd push a second finger into her cheek, easily circumventing the risk of being bitten at all. And then, when she was bent and her body was eagerly going against any notion of hatred but for the furious pace at which she was providing him enjoyment, he pushed her off, no concern if the last act of superiority on his part had brought her over.<br/><br/>He straddled her body at shoulder height and weighed her forehead with his palm as he put his white marks on her face. It wasn't particularly rough, but she might not have the properties to fight very much either, given her conflict. If she needed a leader, the girl or the animal, this kind of claiming should well suffice.