The grass is green, the sky is blue, and Basptiste is ready to defy Chika at any turn. The werewolf isn't mad about it at all. He didn't expect him to surrender so easily, even if he was pinned, body held taut and hair pulled.

And it was unfair that Baptiste looked so good like that. It did make his thoughts go in a far more carnal direction, and his tongue wet his lips.

No...no. It wouldn't be fair to take his prize like this, in front of everyone. Gods below though, it was way too tempting.

"No?" He cocked his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Seems a little silly. After all..."

His hand let go of his hair. But that same hand moved down, lightly touching Baptiste on the throat, drifting down, skimming over exposed skin...and moving to fist the balled-up toga in his hand.

"I could make sure everyone sees every bit of you. Right here. Right now." For all of his tone was a taunt, he was looking to Baptiste's face. There was some concern there, a silent question. All of it asking silently if this was okay.

Because he could and would back off if it wasn't for the blond under his knee.