[He can't reach much past the jaw, the bars too much of an obstacle, and it makes him feel unruly. Impatient. Especially when Temenos laughs out a request in that breathy tone that just makes Beelzebub's heart pound in his own ears.
With a growl, he frees Temenos's head for a moment to instead grab him a little too tight by one of his arm, a heated sinking of his teeth into the flesh - the base of his thumb, the crux of his wrist, the swell of his forearm into his tricep, a trail of painful stinging pressure and the warmth of his mouth, the press of his tongue. His free hand stays gripped at the crook of Temenos's neck and shoulder, nails digging into the flesh, hard enough to leave marks but not quite enough to bleed. Not yet.]
Sad trombone sounds
With a growl, he frees Temenos's head for a moment to instead grab him a little too tight by one of his arm, a heated sinking of his teeth into the flesh - the base of his thumb, the crux of his wrist, the swell of his forearm into his tricep, a trail of painful stinging pressure and the warmth of his mouth, the press of his tongue. His free hand stays gripped at the crook of Temenos's neck and shoulder, nails digging into the flesh, hard enough to leave marks but not quite enough to bleed. Not yet.]