You kept snarling even through the involuntary arching of your spine, curving your pelvis closer to his hand and more or less offering him a silent admission of how much you were enjoying this. God fucking damn. The fact that he knew your body better than you did was pissing you the fuck off, because in his head it seemed that it was giving him grounds to treat you like you were younger than him. Fuck, you couldn’t compare your ages in any linear way, but you were eons ahead of him.
Despite that feeling, you let him (helped him, even) take off your suit jacket, not caring as it disappeared from his hands and your sight. Once he started fiddling with the buttons of your shirt, you lifted your hands back up to start clawing at his shirt as well. “Y’gonna fuck me as lovingly as your brother fucks you, Strider?” You smirk even as you hiss the words.
