we're young and reckless

It was hot, ungodly hot, and he found himself panting as he held firm upon her neck. Her fur began to mat and mingle with his saliva, and he began to wonder why he'd chosen a neck hold in the first place. Oh yes, because it was a very good attack. He felt her move for his forepaw, and he fought to retain his grip without seriously harming her. His tight grip prevented her, it seemed, from bending far enough to truly grab hold of him, and so her fangs merely glanced off of his limb leaving very mild scratches behind. He chuckled, though it was muffled, and allowed his grip to slacken as he drew himself away from her - panting harder now than before. "That's enough, sweet sister. I believe I made my point," he smirked smugly as he eyed her, still feeling undeniably protective in the event that she wasn't through fighting him. He ached, but it was nothing he couldn't deal with - in fact, it felt good to feel a bit of pain. His tongue lashed across his lips like a jungle cat as he tasted her blood, a satisfied shimmer in his eyes. "Shall we get a drink?"