"Oh good. Enjoy."

He takes off.

"What is going on?" he demands, which would have been more helpful if he shared a language with her. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until Elodea wakes up before she can translate," she says, smiling at him. "Which may be a while, because I don't intend to let her interrupt us."

She carries him a short distance away from the naked elf shackled to the ground, sets him down on a patch of soft grass, and starts taking off his clothes.

...He is still extremely confused, but...Havalya didn't seem that upset with her situation until he got grabbed, so...he's going to be tentatively optimistic?

This vaguely demonic complete stranger is very pretty and seems to find him incredibly charming! Once she has all his clothes in a tidy pile, she wraps him in her wings so he won't get cold and kisses him. Her fangs draw a few drops of blood from his lip.

...Well. This definitely seems like cause for optimism. He kisses back; he's pretty good at it. Not, like, world-class, but quite decent. 

She, on the other hand, could probably demand a king's ransom for an hour in her bed. She kisses him with exquisite precision, stroking her hands down his back just so, sucking the blood from his lip and then indulging in a leisurely exploration of his mouth. Most people, when kissing someone new for the first time, have to try out variations in approach to see what works best; she seems like she already knows, and is just taking her time going down the list of his favourites.

He still has no fucking clue what's going on but at least for the moment he is so extremely in favor. 

Her claws scratch lightly across the back of his neck; the sensation is almost more pleasant than painful, although definitely some of both.

That is a really great sensation and he is going to make some noises that he might be embarrassed by if he were paying more attention to things other than that sensation. 

He's so cute.

She continues to kiss him while her hands explore his body, stroking and scratching in all the right ways in all the right places. Here and there, her claws dig deep enough to draw blood, but it's never enough pain to overwhelm the pleasure.

He really likes it when she draws blood. 

Oh, better and better.

She shifts focus, subtly and gradually, until the pain of her claws raking over his skin is the central sensation and the pleasure is just icing on the cake.

He should probably be concerned about blood loss and scarring and infection but right now he is way to distracted to be thinking about any of those things and his opinion is an unambiguous yes, good. 

Next she wanders his body with her mouth, kissing every place she made him bleed. She can do amazing things with her tongue - her control over exactly how much pain and pleasure he feels at any given moment is incredible.

With her moving around too much to keep him wrapped up cozily in her wings, he's starting to get a bit cold, especially where his skin is wet with blood; but everywhere she touches him is still wonderfully warm. And at some point the ground beneath them has become covered by a thick blanket, so when she nudges him out of her lap to lay him down and put her mouth all over him, he doesn't have to worry about getting dirt or grass in his cuts.

He has by this point lost all self-consciousness about making noises. He makes a lot of them. Some of them are words. His language is totally unfamiliar but through sheer context and repetition she may be able to figure out which one is "please."

He is so good and she is going to keep him.

Her mouth keeps getting hotter: first just a pleasant contrast to the chill of the air, then leaving behind a lingering heat for several seconds after each kiss, then the temperature of a hot bath just on the edge of tolerance.

--He thinks he can see where this is going. He--thinks he's going to like it. But he's not sure, and there's definitely some trepidation mixed in with the anticipation. 

She spends a while at the hot-bath level, giving him time to get used to it, before she finds a spot in the middle of his chest that doesn't have any preexisting marks and gives it a long slow lick with her tongue hot enough to raise blisters.

He screams. 

She waits a few seconds, until the pain fades to a dull ache, and then presses a warm and very deliberate kiss to the mark, drawing out new and interesting sensations.

His head is thrown back, teeth gritted, and tears are trickling from the corners of his eyes.

Every other piece of available evidence suggests that he is very much enjoying what she's doing to him. 

Perfect.

She trails more kisses over his chest, verying in temperature from 'pleasant lingering warmth' up to 'hot enough to sting', but never outright burning him again. Her focus now is on weaving a tapestry of pain and pleasure, wrapping him in enough sensation to get well and truly lost in. Here and there she adds a stroke of her fingertips or a scratch of her claws.

She is very good at what she does. She already knew that, of course, but given how weird this world is, it's probably nice to confirm that some important things work the same way.