The fae looked up at Russell, brow arched as he stretched his neck to expose those obvious bitemarks. "Never lost control? So you usually bite your boyfriend's slaves?" He smirked and found himself rolling to stretch out his far slighter weight ontop of the werewolf instead. "I like you." What he meant was 'you suit me,' and perhaps better than Carrick did. "Even if you are prone to more doggy style than I'm used to."