The act has enough life in it for him, at least. His hand moves down further, to her thigh, under the fabric of her skirt. It's convenient enough, and he's surprised she didn't ditch it before coming up here to him.

That sound brings another smirk to his lips, a real one, as his tongue paints over the lines of her collarbone. There's something to be smug about, when he can make Johanna Mason be as lowly and human as the next person with nothing but his mouth. And he's just barely started.

As much as this might be for her, it's for him, too. He needs this, needs someone to be with that's his own choice.

His breath ghosts over a breast, teeth scraping gently over the skin around her nipple.