Oh, he likes the crying. He likes the crying so much.
Her hips crack under the force of his thrusts, and demonic fluids sting her open wounds, and he doesn't stop. He keeps fucking her, until she heals from all her injuries and he has to supply new ones, until the puddle of blood and semen that spreads between her sticky thighs has grown large enough to touch all four of the encircling stones that hold her down. He seems to have an instinctive understanding of all the worst possible places to put his claws.
When he gets bored of ripping her open, he switches to burning her with magic, and when he gets bored of that he switches to using small jolts of lightning, and by that point he's ready to revisit the possibilities of teeth. A full day and night pass like this; he doesn't seem to need to eat, or sleep, or in fact do anything at all other than rape her. He has some favourite tricks: suddenly raising the temperature of his skin to a blistering heat, slashing his claws across her chest and then licking the wounds, casually breaking her bones by being intentionally careless with his immense strength.
Eventually, around midmorning after the second consecutive sunrise that has gone by while he's been fucking her, he disengages and sprawls on the ground outside the range of her puddle.