[It's another way she's different, another novelty. The usual ones don't fight back, don't resist, don't move at all, but he's not surprised she does, not considering how things have gone between them. She pulls and he pushes, retreats from lips to nip and kiss at her neck, work his way down to her collarbone as he slides fingers along the edge of the armor, starting at the top. Finds the clasps and springs them free, tugs things out of the way to replace with fingers, cupping, sliding his hand along the cooler skin. He normally likes when they're still, the passive resistance, but this is almost better, he thinks. It urges him towards rougher movements, nips almost sharp enough to draw blood, a hand tightened against mounded flesh to squeeze, his other tightening in her hair to pull her head back, exposing more of her throat.]
no subject