^{HARDER: Your muse pushes my muse to their knees. | @thequarrelsome}

He should have expected the foot shoving along the small of his back. Should have expected just about anything to come from Lambert after what he did. There was always a bit of enjoyment when he managed to piss the witcher off just right. A bit of fun in the danger of a fight breaking out between the two of them. The teases were made the second the other had shoved him up against the tree and forced his hands behind his back. Lewd, antagonizing, anything that entered his mind left past his lips. They only slowed slightly when he felt a rope binding his wrists together.

Once the rope had been tied and he was let off of the tree, he gave a grin to the man and even laughed. His feet carried him away but stopped near their campsite. It was a struggle to even get at any of the knives he had hidden on his person. Before he could manage anything, however, he was being kicked down. He was able to catch himself on his knees as Lambert walked back in front of him, giving only a slight grunt to having been hit. A gloved hand reached out and grabbed at his jaw, fingers pressing down hard and forcing his head up.

It was barely a thought that he should be listening to what the other was saying. But he merely stared up to him, pupils dilating to the grab and the way the witcher was trying to control him. Even as he could feel bruises developing along his jaw, he still smirked. He was able to wriggle out of the other’s grip just enough to bring his mouth closer to the hand. Teeth sunk into the webbing between the thumb and the rest of the fingers before they moved up. They bit the side of Lambert’s thumb and continued on the intended path, taking the whole of it into his mouth and scraping along the top. He warned about putting hands near his mouth, didn’t he?