It's not as sweet or enthralling as blood- but it's just as deserving of his attention. Of all the focus he can pour into testing Locus' reactions for what he enjoys, for pulling tricks out of a bag long since set aside in favor of survival. Nails catch and glide as he drags his mouth ever downward, teeth nipping (lightly, no biting for blood) along his ribs and the skin under his navel. He twists a hand around to finesse open his belt but takes a moment to lock eyes with Locus.

And begin working his fly with his teeth and tongue.