She opens the door to her apartment, and turns to face him. She grabs him roughly around the waist, gives her best come hither grin (which is difficult, being somewhat past tipsy, but not quite drunk), and says "Get in here."
He feels himself pulled into her place, his feet matching her backwards steps, one by one. He sees where she is leading him - they're not going to watch tv or make a late night snack, that's for sure.
She falls back onto the back, pulling his shirt off him, unbuttoning her dress, both at the same time, really succeeding at neither, although his shirt does come off. Her eyes travel down his chest, to his belt, and she starts fumbling with it, but it is exceptionally difficult, it's like a Rubik's Cube. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him to her, and starts grinding against him. Grabbing his head, she pulls his mouth hard to hers, and slides her tongue against his.
"Oh, she likes to play rough," he thinks. "Okay, let's do this." He pulls off of her, flips her over, then pulls her to her hands and knees. She makes a soft mewling sound when he pulls her hair, kissing her behind her ear, then down her neck.
She feels his hands travel down her shoulder, over her back, to her ass. His grip is firm back there, and she has a moment to wonder what is going on when she feels him start to penetrate her. For a second, she wants to tell him no, but then the thought flies out of her head. She can feel him going deeper inside her, and thinks that no one, NO ONE, has done this before!
She feels him pull her against him, his arms now around her waist, and she feels her orgasm rising, she can't catch her breath, she is about to pass out. Right before she does, she hopes that she isn't making a mess on the sheets.
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He lays her down onto the bed, slowly disengaging himself from her. He puts his shirt back on, thankful that she couldn't get his pants undone - that would have been mortifying. He chuckles at his use of the word, and takes one last look at the girl.
He knows he can never come back to her. Another night like tonight would kill her, at best, change her at worst. Right now, when she wakes up in the morning, lying dressed upon the bed, she'll think she came home from the club and the random stranger she picked up left when she passed out. She will check the house, making sure that he didn't steal from her (which he won't - no need to get the police involved), and just be thankful that it didn't turn out worse.
The bruise on her neck? Probably from a serious make out session. The drops of blood on the sheet? Maybe an old nose bleed.
Humans had a way of covering up encounters with his people. Even to themselves.
