The angel was well used to the taste of his own blood on someone else's lips. What he wasn't accustomed to was how much force was behind it. His mouth opened despite how much he wished against it. He bent, swearing to himself that he wouldn't break.
That lasted right up until that hand came to rest on his crotch. The tears tracked slowly down his cheeks while he found himself whimpering again into that kiss. If the Spartan wanted submission from him, he definitely got it somewhere between that pliant mouth, those tears, and the way his hips moved up automatically to that touch.