When he hit the ground, he was all at once concerned that she'd realize he was preparing to stake her if he had to. A notion long forgotten in the fact of some long missed sense of intimacy.

So much for that, then. When she hit the height of her excitement, he wasn't about to clarify that. Even if he did have a good solid guess on who 'her' was.

"I've been killing lots, love. All sorts."

He started to tear away his own shirt, not much concerned for the buttons lost in the moment. They were all free, after all. He could get as many as he liked. And he did want this. He'd have the guilt later.