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Too much had happened. The rave turning into a slaughterhouse, Valentine's Day, Lupercalia. All of it came in such quick succession that she couldn't bring herself to care about any of the events. Which is why she lets herself laugh at the statement.

"Which one?"

It was easy to say. After all, she'd gone with Kyle the night of Lupercalia, and she'd gone to see Simon -- now a Guardian, that might prove useful -- just last night. So, making it a joke is easier than anything else, especially hearing him talk like that. She liked it more than she'd ever tell him.

"Your boyfriend who else?"

James' mouth curled unpleasantly as he said it, his dislike of Simon was strong and he hadn't even met the guy. But he knew him. He knew Simon every time he came to see Skip. He'd be able to smell him on her every time.

"Don't," she growls, gripping his tie as if about to threaten to strangle him, "call him that."

...somehow her grip around his tie only makes him gasp with a sudden surge of lust that makes his cock pulse in the confines of his briefs. He didn't think ever before that he'd be into something like that, but clearly that wasn't the case.

"Maybe you should tell him that," he rumbled in return as he pushed closer against her, though his own growl was far more animalistic than hers.

"Lemme guess," she mutters, keeping hold on his tie, wrapping it around her hand a bit to get better of a hold on it, "you're fuckin' jealous."

Just the promise of that growl has her pulse racing, especially pushed against the wall like this. Because she is so sick of feeling delicate.

"I ain' yours either."

The part of him that was still struggling to be human and be himself wanted to beg her. Let me make you mine. Just for tonight. Maybe James was well-suited to be an animal like he was, if he was so possessive of this wild girl?

But he was more lost to that pull away from himself than he knew. For once he wanted to take more than ask.

"Not yet." He conceded, nipping at Skip's neck as he ruched up Skip's dress around her hips in one push, and then curled his fingers underneath her thighs to pick her up and force her to either wrap her legs around him or press herself against the wall to avoid falling.

"But I'm going to make you wish you were."

Skip gives a slight groan as her dress is pushed up. Her nails slide against his skin as she takes a breath that goes in as more of a hiss. Her head slips back, against the wall.

"Big words," she mutters. Almost challenging.

But her legs are wrapped around him, and her hips raise to rub against him. After all, it's all she wants. To feel completely normal. Because sex? Is what she does. Is what she knows.

"Back 'em up."

Egging him on seems to be exactly what James needs to get going because he only just holds back a growl that rumbles in his chest instead of his throat as he focuses on growing his claws out to the fine, deadly points they were. He can feel the pinprick of them against her pale skin and there's a decidedly animal impulse to scratch into her skin, to mark her, make sure nobody would ever mistake that she wasn't his.

Instead he hooks a finger under the band of her panties and pulls out, cutting the fabric with little effort. It's enough for him to pull them off of her without compromising their proximity, but it's not enough for him to just be satisfied grinding against her.

He's tempted to put his tongue to good use, but the heat of her between his legs and rubbing against his cock is too much to ignore at this instant. Without nearly as much finess, James unzips his trousers and pulls himself out of the confines of his pants. The relief is amazing on its own but Skip is there and -

that's enough undressing for the first round, he thinks as he pushes inside her. Shes slick enough that there's little resistance but there's enough for him to stop almost as soon as he begins before rolling his hips back and starting again; only going slightly deeper each trust.

He wanted to have her begging. He was craving it. He didn't want to see her broken, no. Just needy.

It's more than she expects.

He isn't normally so direct, but Christ it's good. Feeling the thin material of her underwear give way... The idea that he might just do that to everything she's wearing sends a spike of shuddering heat through her. Which only aids him in pressing into her.

Her legs tighten around his hips instantly, and her nails dig into his back as she gives a satisfied hiss in his ear.

Positioned as she is, she can't do anything. Can't really move her own hips, can't try and ride him. She is, for now, entirely at the mercy of his pace. And, damn, it feels good.

James cant help the approving rumble that sits in his chest at those familiar ten points of pressure in his back and the sensation encourages his hips to jerk up against her just once, indulging in the fact that he can fuck her easily like this on his own terms.

"You like that?"

It's a cliched question but it's partially genuine. James liked hearing praise, it wasn't something he tried to hide.

He rolls his hips against her, grinding against her hips with how deep he pushed inside her and groans slightly with the almost overwhelming sensation of tight, wet, heat. His breath puffs hotly against her throat where he begins to suck a mark as he slowly fucks into her. James is barely restraining himself, but he wants her howling for it tonight.

"God, yes."

Skip -- spoiled, selfish Skip -- gives praise willingly when it's deserved. She won't lie either out of kindness or spite, not about sex. Not about a lot, actually. But especially not about sex.

The slow pace is maddening, but it's just what he promised. If he wants control tonight... Well. He's going to have to make it happen, but he's sure as Hell doing that now.

She knows exactly what she's doing as she tilts her head back, exposing more of her vulnerable throat to the wolf inside the man fucking her. He wants to claim her, and she's willing to let him mark her. Because right now, with his cock thick and hot, working its way in and out, she is only his. But only for as long as he's doing just this.

He takes the offer of her throat like a shark to bait and bites down with very human teeth - though the canines might have been sharper than usual - high on the thin column of her neck. The idea of Skip needing to cover it up with makeup or even just proudly wearing the mark made his dick twitch, even buried inside her as he was.

"I fucking love you like this. Hanging on the wall like a piece of art." He wasn't babbling - not quite - but his words were slightly meant to distract her as one of his hands reached between them to forcefully drag his thumb against her clit before rubbing slow circles against her there in tempo with every leisurely push inside her.

"James."

It's almost a cry, especially at the feel of his thumb. She's powerless, held against the wall and toyed with. Every movement drives her a little more wild, and her hands claw at his back.

"Harder," she mutters, her voice nearly a whine.

A laugh comes from her as an idea flashes through her mind. It's exactly what he wants -- to claim her. Not that she'll let him... except maybe for just tonight. But the idea of it makes her even wetter.

"Put me down," she says in his ear, almost gasping. "Don't you want me down on my hands and knees?" Normally, she doesn't use animalistic terms. But he's in that kind of mood. And, well, she likes the idea of it. "A proper bitch for a wolf to fuck?"

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