"Greedy," Conor muttered, then he followed that up with, "Bossy." He snorted, he couldn't help himself, because duh. Of course he was, that was how they'd first gotten tangled together. At least the scales didn't seem so unbalanced now.
He stripped off his shirt, smearing blood on the hem as he pulled it over his head. He'd probably have to burn his clothes later, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Once he'd disentangled his legs from Byron, the pants followed, landing on top of his discarded shirt. He looked down, noticing red streaks on his waist and arms. He was going to be a mess by the time this was over.
"Pants off," he demanded, rolling hips again. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight, but again...not caring so much.