The howl that shakes the rafters is heard from at least a hallway away, to which no one will go investigate. Not even rock-paper-scissors for it. Wolfwood is very sure in that moment he about died, because not a sound entered his ears after that, not even his own cries which remain with every shove.

Back bowed, he leans forward until he feels a jolt of cold against his cheek where it rests against the table and a low, loud ground rumbles through him, fingers sneaking beneath him to pull at his cock. His remaining hand, bracing him, trembles. Sweat makes it difficult to get a good grip on he table.

"Kara, Kara, Kara, lemme...turn...lemme turn...on the table...get it deeper, deeper, need you, deep--"

He shivers and shakes through every surge of pleasure, her lips both soft and nips sharp along his skin, oversensitive and just as hot as the furl of volcanic heat inside him. He's slowly losing his mind, growing dizzy with pleasure, he can hardly think.