Cerulean Cape crustacean frustration

Even as he relinquished himself to her, his heart beat like thunder in his chest, and lightning gathered in his flesh, coiling his muscles into trained readiness. His lips were drawn in a hard line, but it wavered, becoming a roguish grin as he warred with himself. His instinct and his experience snarled at him to get back his feet, but he swallowed it. She was a curiosity to him; she was petite and groomed, not a mark marred her coat or her face, yet she was able to match the coarseness of him as they tangoed. That attracted him most.

She commanded him to hold still as he laid on his back, and still he was as she started to scoop sand onto him. His eyes shifted from the bi-colored depths of her own, to fall to and linger on her throat. He growled then, his rumble low and soft, and lurched upward to grasp her throat in his teeth. His fangs pressed firmly against her, but as ever, he maintained control — over himself, and for this brief moment, over her. He held her only long enough to show her that he could have had her, that his exposure, his vulnerability, had become her own. Then he released her. That growl rolled into a fiendish laugh deep in his chest, and he grinned toothily at her as his tail swept back and forth across the sands.