[Delightful, that laugh. It's so... honest. If he's gotten anything from her, she is terribly honest, but in the most fun of ways. His smile matches the mirth in that sound. Perhaps it comes from the herbs Julie gave him, but simply feeling the heat of her on top of him, nearly already sitting on him, is. Oh, it's a lot.

He can't imagine it's her first time to be carried to bed. Who doesn't love that sort of effort?]

Complaints? My lady, you must be mad to think I'd complain about this angle. [Honestly. The weight of her breasts, the expanse of stomach, the shadows her clavicles create when she leans forward. He can feel the way her skin shifts his fur, as real a part of him as his skin.] You are more than welcome to hold me down and fuck me as you wish. [Simply saying the word teases the heat between his legs. Between hers. Oh, he can imagine the ride. The way the lights would catch on her pretty horns as she moved. The swing of her hair. Would it be too much to encourage her to hold him by his horns? (He's only curious how it feels.)] Or simply admire the sight of me trapped beneath your silken thighs, [And his hands run up them, teasing the rings on his fingers glittering with gems, the sharpened points of his nails gentle on her skin,] if it so pleases you.

[He's not actually putting it on thick. That's just what happens when you fuck medieval poets.]