NYX
Her mouth foundmine before I could process what she'd said, before I could ask if she meant it, before I could do anything except respond with every fiber of my being.
My fangs throbbed so hard I tasted copper. My tongue went electric, every nerve ending firing at once. Heat surged through my body, pooled low in my belly, made my cock swell against my leathers with enough force to hurt.
She tasted like salt and determination and something underneath that was pure Lexa. I couldn't get enough. My hands found her waist, pulled her closer, needed her flush against me with nothing between us.
Not enough.
Never enough.
I backed her toward the canyon wall. She came willingly, her fingers digging into my scales, her mouth fierce against mine. When her shoulders hit stone, she gasped, and I swallowed the sound.
Mine.
The word pounded through me with each heartbeat. She'd said yes. She'd chosen this, chosen me, chosen us. After days ofdistance and careful neutrality and treating me like a mission asset, she'd finally stopped running.
I caged her against the rock. My wings spread instinctively, blocking out everything that wasn't her. Creating a space that belonged only to us.
Her hands were everywhere. Tracing the leather on my chest, finding the sensitive spots where scales met softer skin, sliding up to grip the base of my neck. Each touch sent sparks racing down my spine.
My tail coiled around her waist without permission. Possessive. Claiming. She didn't pull away, didn't tense. Just made a small sound in the back of her throat that went straight to my cock.
I needed to feel her skin.
Needed the barrier of fabric gone, needed nothing between us.
My claws found the buckles of her leathers. I forced myself to move carefully despite the urgency screaming through my veins. One wrong move and I'd shred the material, leave her with nothing to wear for the rest of this journey.
She had no such concerns.
Her fingers tore at my chest plate, yanking at straps with enough violence to snap one. The leather clattered to the ground. She went for my shirt next, shoving it up and over my head.
The moment her palms touched my bare scales, I nearly lost it.
Sensation flooded through me. The texture of her skin against mine, smooth and impossibly soft. The heat of her, burning hotter than Volcaryth's suns. The way her hands explored like she was trying to memorize every ridge and muscle.
I got her armor off. Then her shirt. The fabric stuck to her skin with sweat, and I peeled it away slowly, savoring each new inch of flesh revealed.
She was perfect.
Scars marked her body. Old ones from Earth, newer ones from Volcaryth. The bandages on her ribs stood out white against her skin. Evidence of her strength, her survival, her absolute refusal to break no matter what this planet threw at her.
I wanted to trace every scar with my tongue. Wanted to know the story behind each one, wanted to worship the body that carried them.
My cock pressed against her through my pants. The pressure was exquisite torture. I could smell her arousal now, sweet and sharp and absolutely intoxicating. It mixed with her natural scent, created something that made my head spin.
She reached between us. Her hand found the fastenings of my pants.
"Off," she demanded. "Now."
I obeyed.
My hands shook as I worked the buckles. Pathetic. I was a warrior of forty years, veteran of countless battles, member of the Blade Council. I should have more control than this.
But control had walked out the door the moment she'd kissed me.
The pants hit the ground. My cock sprang free, already leaking, the tip flushed dark with need. The scales at the base were hypersensitive, each brush of air making me twitch.
