Phil barks out a laugh, delighted at this reaction and that he's still wanted. "Oh, let me have my fun first," he hums as he lowers himself down again, head and hands settling for a moment on Ossie's stomach.

Then teeth and gold claws scrape down on Ossie's skin as they catch into his pants' waistband, and Phil tears one side from the other with a growl of effort, the fastener popping clean off and the seams splitting as if the thread was cheap and the job was shoddy.

"I only have an hour of this," he says as his claws dig into one of the pant legs and he tears that open too, "so I'll be a little quick about getting these off, if you don't mind."