Page 68 of Command

“Threxin—”

Yes, human, say my name.A shudder ran down his spikes.

“Can you… just… Can we do this later?”

He glanced up at her, seeking her eyes behind her stupid bangs. “No.”

The knee was slightly swollen, but not overly so. He saw an ugly entry point in the side, slightly puckered with a hollowing in the middle. Threxin leaned in to observe it. Her thigh tensed beneath his touch, muscles jutting satisfyinglyagainst his palm. Threxin grunted his surprise. Her muscle tone was better developed beneath the soft layers of fat and skin than he had expected. Something about the contrast of her softness and the utilitarian flesh beneath made his skin tighten.

He reached up with his free hand to run the sharp points of his fingers across the kneecap, barely making contact.

“Can you feel this?” he asked, glancing up at her.

“Y-yes.”

He nodded in a human gesture for her benefit and shifted his fingers to the outer side of her kneecap, where the scar was.

“And this?” he repeated.

She swallowed and returned his nod. “Yes.”

He progressed to the inner part of the knee. He had to be thorough. Her flesh rose under his traversal. “Now?”

Her voice was strained and full when she answered to the affirmative. Threxin slid his hand from the top of her thigh to tuck it against her hamstring. He grasped her calf gingerly with the other as he bent her knee slowly, watching her small face for any sign of pain. When the back of her knee was off the bed and exposed to him, he repeated the light clawing motion, checking the sensation there with the tips of his talons.

The catch of her breath drew his eyes, expecting a show of pain. But rusty red blotched her cheeks and her pupils were expansive.

“Can you feel this?” His voice was low as he held them.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Threxin’s tongue prickled as he licked his lips. He remained still, holding her leg up as they stayed like that, in a kind of stasis. The musk perfuming the air tugged at him, and his vision narrowed, honing in.

It took no time at all for what remained of the thin rims of her irises to disappear completely under his gaze. Her eyeswere endless black space. His hand was already sliding up the back of her thigh as he shifted himself atop her legs. She leaned forward, her skin a flame beneath his touch. His other hand dragged up the thigh of her uninjured leg to her hip, then over the strap covering her groin and under the shirt that lay over the soft curve of her stomach.

“Breathe,” he commanded when he noticed she was not. His apertures widened as she complied with an immediacy that drove molten heat to his groin.

“Good,” he offered. Her mouth parted for air, soft belly expanding beneath his hand as she drew it deep. The pulse point in her throat visibly calmed, settling into the captivity.

Threxin released her thigh to reach up and cup her jaw. Her squishy face was so small under his palm that he covered it entirely, thumb tracing the orbit of her eye. His own pulse did not calm or settle, especially when she tilted her face into his touch.

“Shoq,” he whispered, shifting his grip to place his thumb beneath her jaw, exacting a delicate hold on her throat as he splayed his fingers at the nape of her neck. He applied pressure and she was pliant, bending her neck back to tilt her face up to him as he leaned closer. Her mouth was an offering, parted and waiting.

He accepted it. He pulled her toward him by her neck and met her mouth, their heated breaths mingling. Their eyes remained locked and her tongue was at his lips. It was a strange human gesture that nevertheless had his apertures wide and on fire and his hips jutting into hers on instinct alone.

The trance broke with the closure of their eyes. Her pulse jumped beneath his hand on her neck. Restive and desperate, her hands roamed and dragged at him, and his soon did the same. The limiter hummed, but did not stop him as he shoved her uninjured leg wider, seating himself into her hips and curling his back over her folded body beneath him.

It took too long for him to recognize the taste on his tongue. To catch his fully erect spikes scraping at the roof of his mouth, drawing the exorin to the surface and to his lips. Toherlips. The realization was soon followed by the driving of a needle into his skull.

“Shoq,” he growled and slammed his hand into her chest, shoving hard as he threw himself off the bed. He stood, panting.

Her eyes widened, with horror most likely. Her tongue nearly darted out to wet her lips. Threxin shot his hand forward to grab her jaw and hold it open.

“Don’t,” he growled. He narrowed his eyes and inspected her mouth closely, searching her skin for any trace of black. He held the hinge of her jaw firmly as he did it, tilting her face up to the light. The column of her throat moved, instinctively attempting to swallow.

I want to sink my teeth there.

“Don’t,” he hissed again, blinking away the thought. Silent tears spilled to her temples and seeped around his fingers. He didn’t know what she was afraid of—what he was doing, or the exorin. Turning her head left and right to make sure there was nothing there, he finally loosened his grip, satisfied that no exorin had gotten onto her mouth. Only then did he lick the layer of it from his own lips.

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