[ Kostos doesn't need to see her face to know she's on board, obviously, but his grip on her neck doesn't tighten as much or for as long at a time as it would if he could—never mind that she can probably throw him off or light him on fire if it's too much. He'd rather things not end that way. Because he wins, in the end, definitely, if she comes apart in his hands. That's precisely what he wants.
He ducks his head in to keep an ear on her breathing, and to smell her hair, and to sink teeth sharply into her shoulder, once, while his hips go still long enough to keep his control from fraying, hard enough to leave stinging marks behind.
When he moves again, it's to slip out and back, to turn her around and back her by the shoulders toward her desk. It's less frenetic than last time, nothing knocked over on the way, deliberately paced. He doesn't have anything to say about it, charming or otherwise, but he smiles a little (again, it's a miracle) while he backs her onto it, encourages her legs to spread for him, pushes her shoulders toward the wall behind it, closes his hand around her throat again. Now he can see her face. ]
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He ducks his head in to keep an ear on her breathing, and to smell her hair, and to sink teeth sharply into her shoulder, once, while his hips go still long enough to keep his control from fraying, hard enough to leave stinging marks behind.
When he moves again, it's to slip out and back, to turn her around and back her by the shoulders toward her desk. It's less frenetic than last time, nothing knocked over on the way, deliberately paced. He doesn't have anything to say about it, charming or otherwise, but he smiles a little (again, it's a miracle) while he backs her onto it, encourages her legs to spread for him, pushes her shoulders toward the wall behind it, closes his hand around her throat again. Now he can see her face. ]