Bunnate
There's little time wasted zipping up the flap and giving them as much privacy as they're going to get in this place. He's kissing her but his lips can't linger just on her mouth. He's restless, overwhelmed with all the parts of her he wants to take, take and take. So Nate decides to wander down over her chin and neck, down her chest, down her fire warmed body - warmth that she'd maintained while he trekked through the Dog Park in search of the tent.
A hand pushes up her shirt and his palms caress the soft skin of her stomach and her rib cage. Fingers hook in the waistband of her pants. A contraption that, in his state, is a complicated bit of technology here in the dark.
His fingers are shaking. Maybe it's the drink or because he's excited. Maybe it's because the liquor has beaten his steely resolve into something whisky whipped and weather stripped.
Whatever the reason, he can't undress her fast enough and his frustration culminates in him steeling her by the waist and tugging at the button that refuses to come unloose. "I want ye..."he growls.