[If Vincent secretly likes being strong, some part of Irahl loves being an entirely inhuman, carnivorous monster, and that part is never allowed to take control without carrying hatred along with it--either for himself or the creature he's fighting. That bitterness has been so quiet here, though, and what might have remained has been satisfyingly bashed into submission.
The loathing might catch him later, but for now, it's all liberated instinct, and exhaustion, and terrible want.
Sharp teeth dig into his neck and scrape against scales--normally cold, but now like pieces of warm glass--and he twists against them. It's automatic; his shoulder is pressed down and he presses back. It doesn't matter how much everything hurts. Force against force. Vincent bites directly into instinct.
Irahl is caught but the monster groans, writhes, and tries to bite back. A throat, a mouth--whatever he can get.]
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The loathing might catch him later, but for now, it's all liberated instinct, and exhaustion, and terrible want.
Sharp teeth dig into his neck and scrape against scales--normally cold, but now like pieces of warm glass--and he twists against them. It's automatic; his shoulder is pressed down and he presses back. It doesn't matter how much everything hurts. Force against force. Vincent bites directly into instinct.
Irahl is caught but the monster groans, writhes, and tries to bite back. A throat, a mouth--whatever he can get.]