Her hands tightening in his hair elicits a reaction in the pit of his stomach, a smoldering fire sparked by a crackle of light and is stoked by the flames of want, need, and desire. Every whimper and pleasured cry that escapes her throat (though is it truly escape, if she's not holding them back?) simply serves to fan the flames, encourage him to give her what she wants.

Bringing his arm up to wrap lightly around her thigh, he grazes his nails over her hip, not hard enough to scratch (he would not mark her) but just enough to give the idea to her mind. A predator - catching, consuming his prey.