He doesn't even try to hide the way he basks in the waves of emotion breaking over him as she kisses him. His hands slide up her back to her shoulders, back down, curving over her hips as they shift purposefully against his. It goes against her nature in a way to be this open, and it's an honor for him to be graced with her trust.

His hands slide up her back again before he traces the edges of her face, slips his fingers into her hair. "Well," he whispers, "as you've asked so nicely." His lips brush against hers, still light and careful as he rolls them over, puts her onto her back, and slips away to stand beside the bed. He doesn't look away from her as he sheds his shirt, casually unfastens his pants, lets them fall. Like this, he has almost the same level of cavalier unselfconsciousness that Alice has, if tempered a little by that quirked half-smile that appears so often.

The bites are crowded on his arms, but there's no shortage of half-moon teeth marks on his torso, his collarbones, over his ribs, even a deep mark on his hip, but he makes no move to hide them as he moves back toward her, slinking onto his side and reaching out to run a hand over the curve of her hip. "Better?"