Well, damn. It's unbecoming for a Queen to whine, but she most surely does. Her fingers twisting and gripping tightly in her hair like she means to shove back somehow. Her hips twitching for the contact they are denied. All those hard, scarred muscles that even where they are hidden below her clothes, under Teren's hands - are scarred by claw marks, bite marks, gunshots and swords.

All different sorts of battlegrounds. But this one surely is one just now.

Fuck you, except, she definitely already was. What little control she had right now, and it takes considerable effort to get her breathing even, to force her hips back and down and not squirm against the hot, tickling breath. Looking down her body meeting Teren's gaze that is somewhere between I hate you, and I want you.