Hey, Summoner's got style, though it's a little hard to tap into right now with that mix of freaked out, angry, and aroused, granted, those three things probably work as style for the Highblood. As for that name? Despite it being the name of the individual causing him some anguish, Summoner doesn't think of him when he says it. It's a curse, fairly common for him and his men, it just falls from his lips naturally.

And now he's fallen into the pace of this, pushing up against him as those wider hips from forward, making his own arousal grind and churn in the pit of his stomach.

"Y-yeah-" He says distantly, lifting his head a little, his voice hushed, a growl in his throat. Summoner breathes deep, mentally preparing himself, glancing down the to playful fingers at a waistband before staring back up at him. His nose wrinkles a bit, that smell of death leaking from between the Highblood's fangs only pissed him off more.

"Just shut the hell up-" The taste of blood fills his mouth from the pain on his lip, but the comment still slides out with ease before he pushes forward, kissing him and snarling his fangs into his lips.