Clothes in these moments, are perhaps the very last thing the boy is given to care about, finding a ready disdain for the fabric all the same- his new leather attire as loathed as the woman whom continues to dress him like a prized poodle at a parade in the stiff, unforgiving garments she seems to delight in so very much, his ability to refuse her overshadowed by her own power, crushing against his own near indomitable spirit in a battle of wills that inevitably sees him lose night after night and yet, perhaps it is that touch of insanity that sees him try again and again, over and over, restlessly determined to disobey her desire in that regard. Nadya's mention of finding him some new attire lost within the confines of his rather hazed mind, the appeal of the woman before him removing is own hesitancy, his agitation and frustration, that remaining adrenaline within his system from their brawl seeming to tangle and ensnare each part of him, licking at his veins with an entirely new and animalistic demand. The animal takes what the animal needs and indeed it would seem she has alighted an entirely new need within him, each part of himself assured of this as instinct firmly takes hold of his conscious thought.


Her own instinct, perhaps, is responsible for the manner in which she returns the kiss, her reaction only further seeking to assure him he is correct in this, the warmth of her body pushed entirely up against his own as her hands span across his chest, this new sensation earning a rather guttural growl of sorts to vibrate within the depths of his throat, that line between human and animal blurring so very readily as he responds to scents that linger within the air, pulling back at last in some effort to breathe and allow her to do the same, managing to force words between his lips, voice holding a thicker sound, this new sensation of arousal an entirely foreign one and yet ones whose potency is beyond any other, responding entirely with that male side of himself as she struggles to keep her towel in place, her command to wait seeming to see him falter- if only slightly.


His attempts to find some clarity between this new rush of sensation however is entirely lost as her nails scrap almost painfully against his chest, the brief stinging contorted into another reaction entirely as he abruptly steps forward again, driven entirely now by age-old knowledge, innate and in-built though it has remained elusive until this point, his loathing for being touched in his human form by any other then those he trusts resulting in his normal hesitancy, her own power obliterating such a thing, affording his testosterone the simple push it had need to seize exactly what he believes is his take as he very near pushes her back, forces her to move until her back is firmly pressed against the nearest white washed wall, trapping her between it and himself. It is domineering, predatory, very near feral in the manner in which he does it and yet he is an apex predator, designed to be as such- to be gentle never seeming to have crossed his mind as his lips seize her own again, pressing against her, pressing closer though instinct drives for another closeness, a deeper one, as his hands move to rest on her hips, fingers gripping at the softness of the towel she still wears before he tugs rather determinedly at it, seeking to rip it away from her entirely, assured that she does not need it, that it is only in the way, demanding to have her entire body at his disposal, the warm wetness to her skin holding an entirely different appeal.


His lips break from hers a second time, one hand lifting to brush against her shoulder before those long fingers move to turn her head to the side, to allow him access to the side of her neck as his lips brush against that tanned flesh, parting to allow his teeth to grace against it in the same manner before he abruptly bites down in a decidedly cat-like manner, hardly hard enough to maul though capable perhaps of drawing blood as a satisfied growl stirs within his throat once more and he continues to press against her, rough and demanding, hands moving to seize her waist again, to hoist her up should she finally have let go of that towel and bring her into a more....useful position for what he desires, instinct entirely in charge within these moments, the animal needing no guidance in this as he moves to position her just where he thinks she should be for what is sure to follow.

madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push