Peter growled at the cry, his eyes still glowing a bit. The bite of her nails was a background pleasure, sparking through him. He didn't give her time to adjust this time, just moved, short, hard thrusts that stayed deep inside of her and demanded she adjust and catch up. It wasn't about hurting her...but it had never been about that. Her pain had been a regrettable necessity. Now, it wasn't even that--he'd prefer she enjoy it--but instinct that wasn't fully human, if at all, screamed to take her, make her his, as if somehow he'd only been playing at it before.