The highblood might be preoccupied with the pain/pleasure(?), but his wits are still about him. His eyes widen, but with one leg sort of paralyzed, he can't avoid the legs knocking hard against his ankles. He goes down, but he catches himself with his hand and one knee on the ground. No way he's going to just fall over like that, especially from this light-boned freak of nature.

With him so close now, he screams at him, specks of spit flying everywhere as he angrily swipes at him.

"Get the motherfuck back here so I can all up and ERASE THAT MOTHERFUCKING NUB off your motherfucking shoulders!" He swings the club down where the Summoner stands while swinging his free arm out to claw at him if the club fails to stop him.