[ Mouth sore, Reggie runs his tongue over his bitten lips, as if testing to taste for blood but not displeased by the possibility. He wonders idly, dazedly, about how Derek's werewolf power works, but he's been love-bitten so many times tonight already that he imagines it can't be that simple.

Which is good. It is... but, if there were ever a time Reggie would agree to be turned without so much as a second thought, now would be it. He kisses and bites back greedily, licks his lips again, relishing the soreness that lingers even after the kiss has broken. ]

A-after that I can return the favor.

[ Maybe not as well; Reggie isn't a werewolf, he doesn't have the same kind of strength that helps elevates Derek's stamina and fucking to this unbelievable, wild urgency that's hard not be obsessed with, but he's still good-- still got the body, got the experience, and the versatile enthusiasm to back that up with. ]

I mean since you're a werewolf it like, makes sense for you to be my bitch.

[ Panting, he tries to keep his voice as even as possible to reaffirm some illusion of control. There's not much more than that he can do, or in fact does do; he lets his head fall back against the seat as Derek pulls his hips down, eagerly exposes his neck for the barrage of bruising hickeys that follows, groaning -- an impatient, whining sort of noise -- and then biting his lip. ]

Ffffuck-- [ It shouldn't make a big difference, the change in position. Right? His face colors a bit nonetheless. ] Should've figured you'd be into doggy style.

[ Breath heaving in and out and heart beating quickly, he turns himself over, burying his face in the palm of one hand as he hesitantly arches his back to lift his ass up. ]