He swears, somehow, someway, the fever manages to build once he's pulled closer. Legs opened and bodies pressed tight, it's not hard to draw a shiver. That grip is perfect, just right, and he (she) takes to each nip and bite hungrily.

He's got every intention to give what he's got, but then the sweet warmth is gone and under him is the bed. He hits it, nearly bouncing off, but then Garrett's on him, free of that stupid shirt that did nothing wrong except be in the way of what he needs right now. A gasp slips as her own is torn open, showing her off to him. She's still wiry, too thin and too scarred and that's not changing, but now there are slight curves at her hips, small breasts on her exposed chest.

And she pays mind to none of it (a mind that's slowly losing grip on what makes him himself because he needs so badly) because she's reaching for Garrett to take him close, to scrape teeth and fang of the skin.