His mouth caught one nipple and then the other, enfolding them in a tingling heat through which sparked the brief pain of his teeth, and the woman groaned softly at the cruel irony of him bringing such things to bear upon her. As each drawn, bloodspattered breast sprang back to shape, the peachy tips remained tight, contracted into soft luttle buttons that cried out for touch.<br/><br/>It was her mouth, her damaged and stained mouth he returned to though, sparking off the dull, hot pain in her gums with the force of it. And he whispered, tried to make her with his words into something that needed to be cared for, like the beast she'd insisted to Anastasius that she was not. She did not understand the words as such, as he spoke the language she did not know - but the intent was clear in his expression, in the way he looked her over.<br/><br/>One arm and then the other swung abruptly up - one to slap a gripping hand against the back of his neck, the other to curve along the back of his thickly thewed shoulders and use them for her support as she began to move under him - inexpertly, but with the grace and energy of the warrior that she was. Blood and wine were on her breath as it panted into his face, and she pushed hard, fast, wordlessly toward the peak of this unwanted act.<br/><br/>The air felt as if it thickened and vibrated upon her sweat-sheened skin, and the cry she suddenly made, her legs locking around his hips to hold him within, was an ageless prayer unto the most ancient and nameless of deities.