He lay there, breathing on top of her for a short while. He didn't say anything to her, didn't touch her, he just...breathed. Then he sat upright, twisted his head to the side, and slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were green. The black was gone. He pushed himself off of her and stood from the couch, shooting her a smug sort of look as he turned away from her and went about gathering his clothes. That last bit probably wasn't all that pleasurable for her. But what could he say? He loved to disappoint. She should have been grateful though. This was nothing in comparison to the torture that he could have inflicted upon her. Nor was it anything close to the deaths that he had piled up without a second thought.
He slid back into his boxers, then pulled his jeans up over his waist and turned over to look at her. "I'll spare a few lives tonight," he told her, "but that's all you're getting."