The firm muscles of her shoulders flex and then relax under the touch, all the strength in those tightly-wound cords restrained and yet never more than a thought away from immense violence.

Those teeth trail down and down, until there's a sharp nip at her collarbone. And at the same time, that hand on Fever's hip pushes up beneath the hem of her shirt, not bothering to be all that careful about the claws.

"Always so tempting just to tear these things..." comes almost grumbled against Fever's throat.