Cerulean Cape soldier, keep on marching on

The way she spoke was different than the rest. The more that spewed from those rose petal lips of hers, the more it painted a picture for him. Owner, it only made a little more sense now. The way she looked at him, the way she spoke - she was conditioned to be an item. To be claimed and used by another and from what he could gather from her interaction with the siren and himself, she desired a man's dominance. 

Oh, how perfect could this be? Are you discarded? He paused for a moment, letting the words linger briefly before continuing. Do you want to be mine now, is that it? He needed to hear it, wanted to hear it. Perhaps he had found just the thing he didn't know he needed. Leaning forward, the pale wraith pressed his muzzle against her cheek, taking in her scent, familiarizing himself with it. I could use someone like you if that is what you want. the velvety voice of the spectre cooed from blackened lips as he pressed forward further. Swallowing her personal space with intense greed.