[He luxuriates in the rush of breath and the tastes of their blood mingling as he grinds down against the human. He's hard; incredibly, sloppily excited, and rumbles out a low frequency moan at the contact.]



[He growls and bites down, not really caring where, and lets Dave flip them. He's prepared enough that it doesn't knock the wind out of him, and in fact he arches up as the pain from it reverberates through him. Beautiful. That trickle of uncertainty that maybe he can be overpowered is intoxicating. He pushes his horn harder against Dave's hand, and bucks up, drawing out the lewdest sounds from his throat that he knows how to make. And then he starts feeling impatient and grips Dave's shirt with the intent of ripping it right the fuck off.]