Aezhyrrael rolled over the cushions, enduring as his claws came to rest upon it and his pet. Talons lay over marks he had rent through the fabric weeks ago; over Calix's legs, bound in linen on one of Theastone's cooler days.

Not far from them, a coffee table and drinks Aezhyrrael had brought in from one of his errands. His car keys, strewn across the table where the television's light struck them. The means to those errands he had given himself to in fascination of his pet. Behind them, impossible to discern with lights out at this time in the night, his little shrine. Toys and blood specks left about. Normalcy in draihari territory.

Aezhyrrael's sheer robe, starry and black, was brought from Niskerra and hid little of him and his horrendous scars. He forces his way upon Calix's lap, the static of the holo-box beyond his notice to care for. Gauri and their fascination with the star's nature. Had they not conquered enough of the natural world?

Cold did nothing to Aezhyrrael's blood- but he had become weak in his gauri's presence. An addiction to his pet and his fur had reared itself and he could simply not resist prey so free for the taking. Or its warmth.

Night-eyes watch the documentary for just moments, and then turn away.

He brings his head to the furry chest threatening its presence behind a cut, thin chest-piece, Aezhyrrael scraping a pectoral with fangs and lapping the fur over his bare chest with a growl.

"You are so fascinated by those prowlers, gauri." Aezhyrrael complains, twisting in his lap to claw at his arms.

"Is there envy? Do you desire their ferocity?" He sneers, fangs flashing in play.

The low, sonorous voice of a narrator filled the dim room, a counterpoint to the silent flicker of the pict-caster as it displayed the exotic fauna of some far-flung region. Calix leaned back into the plush sofa, feigning interest, but his senses were tuned to the far more dangerous creature beside him. The movement, when it came, was a fluid ripple of shadow and silk. A familiar, welcome weight settled against his side, and the scent of night-blooming florals and cold, clean ozone washed over him. The sight, which months ago would have sent a jolt of pure terror through him, now kindled a slow, possessive fire deep in his gut.

Aezhyrrael was terribly, unfairly handsome, his pale skin a stark canvas against the diaphanous black robes. Calix’s fingers curl around a slender bicep, a growl his warning-not to stop, but to have care. The Draihari were much bigger creatures. Comical, then, they must look when Aezhyrrael clambered into his lap. His lip curls gently as mismatched eyes flicker from the beasts on screen to the one upon him.

“Do I seem so?” He answered, rolling his head into attention. “You think I have no ferocity of my own?” Came the accusation. Calix’s look, writ firstly with play, shifted. He let his hands slide to Aezhyrrael’s narrow waist, intending only to shift their positions, to playfully demonstrate the very ferocity the Draihari questioned. He braced himself, expecting to push against the tense, unyielding power of a creature who could move like lightning.

He pushed. And met almost no resistance.

The sensation was jarring, a profound miscalculation that sent a shockwave through Calix’s mind. Aezhyrrael, for all his terrifying speed and lethal skill, was shockingly, almost impossibly light. The reversal was effortless. In a single, smooth motion, Calix had twisted and folded the Draihari beneath him, pinning him by the wrists against the leather cushions of the sofa, their positions utterly reversed. He swung a leg over to straddle Aezhyrrael's hips, the movement born of instinct he hadn't realized he'd acted on until it was done.

His look, which had started as play, now flickered with a dawning, complex expectation. That was too easy, the thought echoed in his mind.

A white-hot hand finds its way around Aezhyrrael's arm and he bares his teeth against the hair, angling his head to rub his cheekbone in possession against Calix's flesh with a self-satisfied, rolling growl.

He notes the tone of aether writhing beneath him, effortless in strength and affection both swept over the dread and despair of months ago. And he smirks at the shift beneath himself, curling his claws inwards to simply secure them together again.

"Not at all, my pet. I have seen how you writhe beneath me..." He begins, rising with a purr to meet the movement he feels beneath, at his waist. Fangs and claws brace themselves for what he anticipates was the fight to come, grin widening in play--

Effortless, were the hands around his waist as they yank him overturned on the couch. It takes the breath from Aezhyrrael's own body and he startles at it, eyes pinned on Calix. No longer on the holo-box or on the distant city beyond the glass. No, it was on the strength that bound him to uselessness within moments of challenge. It takes Aezhyrrael by total surprise with a frown.

Had he given his lordling such a chance to wrest him like this before? The sensation unrecognisable. Somewhat terrifying, for the moment that Aezhyrrael clasps his claws into Calix's arms before they were simply. Peeled away and pinned back, against the couch with the rest of him. Strength useless- speed futile. He could not move from him.

Aezhyrrael rolls his hips with a laugh that curtails his growl, wrists struggling under the grip. Testing with an arch of the back once and then again. He knew in the pits of his belly the threat that the hyuron were to his kind. Tales and realities of hyuron tribes hunting the northern eldar for sport.

"Ohnn..- you do have some ferocity of your own," he pouts, chin lifting to Calix above for some kind of affection. Some kind of distraction that he might try and dart away again. "It has been so hard for me to discern under your loyalty... your desire to bleed for me."

He writhes again, feeling the weight like impossible irons on his wrists when he tries to escape. Shrugged off by a nasty little sneer that curls just slightly when he finds that he could not move at all.

Aezhyrrael's grin curls into something slightly more strained as he lifts his elbows in some protest. Then he stops, legs curling up behind them.

"Now that I have permitted you to play with me, I see your point, gauri..." Aezhyrrael growls.

He felt the slight, almost desperate pressure of Aezhyrrael’s wrists against his grip, a token struggle that held no real power. The lifted chin succeeds in earning his quick descent, teeth baring suddenly as he nipped at the slender jaw, his face hot suddenly.

“I only-,” Calix breathed against Aezhyrrael’s neck with furrowed brows. I only…What?

The thought died, a casualty of a far more profound, earth-shattering realization. He had thought, for all these months, that he was merely surrendering to a superior strength. It had been the foundation of their dynamic, an unspoken, fundamental truth of the universe: the Draihari were ancient, fast, and lethally powerful. A Hyuron, for all their resilience, was physically outmatched. It was the natural order. It was why his surrender felt so… inevitable.

But now… feeling the delicate bones of Aezhyrrael's wrists held fast in his grip, seeing the genuine tremor of strain in those slender arms, hearing the low growl that was less a threat and more a frustrated, theatrical complaint... the entire foundation crumbled into dust.

It wasn't a fair fight he had been losing. It was a lie. A carefully guarded, species-wide secret. A performance of dominance he, and all of his kind, had been conditioned to believe for centuries. The awe, the fear, the deference… it was all built on a magnificent, shared illusion. He wasn't a submissive yielding to the inevitable. He was a wolf who had been convinced he was a gauri, allowing himself to be led. The raw, physical power had been his all along.

He stared down at Aezhyrrael, the previous playful arousal in his eyes cooling into a dawning, terrible clarity. Disbelief warred with a sudden, hot surge of something else—anger, betrayal, a profound sense of having been made a fool. He squeezed Aezhyrrael’s wrists, not with playful affection, but with a firm, testing pressure. He felt the bones shift slightly, felt the genuine wince from the creature beneath him.

“My point,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, entirely different from the breathless tone of moments before.

Calix leaned down, his greater weight and strength now a conscious, deliberate pressure pinning the Draihari. The scent of Aezhyrrael’s wariness, faint and intoxicating, was a new and startling note in their symphony.

"I'm thinking," Calix growled, his mouth hovering just over Aezhyrrael's, "that you have been playing a very, very interesting game. And I am just now learning the rules."

He ignored the weak, token struggle from the arms he still held pinned. With deliberate, undeniable strength, he shifted his weight, using one knee to nudge Aezhyrrael’s legs further apart, settling himself more firmly against the Draihari’s hips. The air went still for a beat, thick with unspoken shock. Then, Calix moved.
It was a slow, testing rock of his hips, a deliberate, grinding pressure. The friction of his own rough trouser fabric against the impossibly fine silk of Aezhyrrael’s robes was an abrasive, insistent sound in the quiet room.

Calix leaned down, his breath ghosting over the piked shell of Aezhyrrael’s ear, his voice a low, mocking growl. "What's wrong, my lord? Is this… too much ferocity for you?” He bit, punctuating the words with another slow, deliberate press of his hips.

Aezhyrrael's back arches at ferocious mutualism: of adrenaline, shock, thrill. Bound uselessly beneath his gauri's body, unfathomable until just now. The breath, teeth on his neck and jaw make him feral in impatience. He smirks, pretending prey, and falters as the weight on his wrists simply remains beyond the reason alone of being merely play.

"Go on..." He hisses, eyeing him. His try to escape Calix was fervent for just a moment as his strength simply falls apart beneath him, trapped. All of the nerves in the predatory coils of Aezhyrrael's own mind complained about the strain against his bones under the throes of very real confrontation.

It was a dangerous, threatening truth forgotten easily in so many weeks of being around Calix that such displays had become usual. Moments spent in gaurifal or upon each other performative reminders of the unsteady path that both walked alongside one another. Reminders that threatened his foundations when he was gripped hard or pushed along their nest by his pet's needs.

Had he ever the boldness of the wolf he was, the ease that it would be to snuff out the strength in Aezhyrrael's body through will alone...

Perhaps things would have been very different. Could he imagine a hyuron as the rightful Divine of his kabal? Or the master of its threads as they were unwoven and the mythology of his kin became meat for the Imperia.

The hands around him clasp him tighter and he shudders in nervous complaint at the threat around his very sinew. Bones ached in complaint as they were pulled tighter within his forearms, effortlessly. Tighter and tighter and those bones may break, he thinks in alarm, eyes on him in adrenaline begging him to do it.

"My point,"

His nerves and mind burn in attention, eyes pin-pricked in thrill. Teeth bare in response and his claws poise uselessly on the other side of the hands pinning him, flexing and curling in struggle to fight with him.

Aezhyrrael feels the weight on his hips and his eyes roll in aroused violence as he flexes them.

Terrifying. The rumble, for the first time, shoots sensation down Aezhyrrael's spine. Into his distal limbs and into his mind as threat. Danger, particoloured in tempest above him as he struggles under its tides.

In the song of his love's rage, it was melodic. He felt himself prickled alive at anticipation-- grinning. Breath heavier in his ribs and flaring slender nostrils.

At the breath threatening his jaw, he rolls his neck and growls.

"Well done..." Aezhyrrael gasps, at his mercy. No movement of leg or hip could dissuade his pet's newfound strength. The weight was immense, more when it was charged, and he groans in shocked surprise.

The sound set his senses aflame in fury- in complaint. His wrists scream at him and he begs for it with a roll of his hips and belly as he hisses. Teasing violation. Aezhyrrael's eyes glaze over in concentration of the weight around his hips, crushing. Nothing lethal, but it could indeed become so.

Would he do it? Or merely tease him with his new power?

Aezhyrrael's glance, cast down, looked up again in desperate, pleasured regard. He shudders beneath the weight and performs in his struggle, back arching over the cushions while it was not weighted down simply.

"What's wrong, my lord?--"

It left him breathless in arousal, his flesh pushed against himself and prevented from displaying its frustrations to his gauri's make of new violence.

"Mmh!" He complains, panting through his nose. The growing pain left him breathless in ecstasy.

He could not deny his own obsession. He would allow Calix to grind the bones in his arms to dust if it pleased him. He was, foolish and against the will of Zhaine, bound to his gauri's pleasure. He would let him do any harm, if it pleased him.

"The opposite, my pet...--" Aezhyrrael groans, bringing his hips beneath himself in instinct to try and be free. Could Calix fuck him into breaking? He was forced to imagine so as hips rolled sorely over his own in a dynamic entirely alien to the draihar's dripping expectations. Was that his desire? Would he let him? He would have no choice. Would Calix dare to take his soulbind by the brutal, negligent will of hyuron strength alone?

The fantasy of it blackened Aezhyrrael in exceedingly welcome trepidation.

"You are a patient set of teeth, my gauri- ahhn- and I, a bold predator in the depths of your territory... isn't that right." As was the pleasure of this game of theirs. This game of newfound, terrible rules, forced to confront the creature whose mercy was his own to bear now. His gut sensed betrayal, fury, arousal, adoration in the midst of aether that was a whorl in Aezhyrrael's own refusal to surrender trying. He would still try to escape. The wrongness of his gauri's power bid him to try again.

He flexes his claws towards Calix in desperate struggle and bares his teeth for him, ecstatic.

Calix’s lip curled in approval. And just as well, or he would feel a more profound betrayal. With the irritation still simmering, he pressed down again, harder this time, feeling the frantic, fluttering pulse through the body pinned beneath his.

"I’ve been lied to." He shifted, a relentless, punishing rhythm now, driven by a heady mix of anger and a dark, burgeoning arousal. He was exploring this new power, this incredible, paradigm-shattering truth, and he was using Aezhyrrael’s own body as the testing ground. He felt the Draihari arch against him, a confusing writhe that was half-struggle, half-surrender.

"All this time," Calix whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "you let me believe. You watched me… yield. You let me think my submission was… inevitable." He nipped at Aezhyrrael's earlobe, a sharp assertion of his new dominance. He wondered if, to Aezhyrrael—a creature who craved sensation above all else—this was exquisitely, maddeningly thrilling. He hoped there was fear, too.

His hands, which had held Aezhyrrael’s wrists in an iron grip, uncurled gently. The anger, which had been a white-hot, singular focus, began to cool, leaving something more complex in its wake. As he continued the slow, grinding pressure against the Draihari, a new thought began to surface, unwelcome but insistent. Why? Why the deception?

He looked down, truly looked, at the creature beneath him. Aezhyrrael's face was flushed, lips parted on a series of ragged, breathless pants. His luminous eyes, usually so full of mocking intelligence, were glazed with a mixture of pain, humiliation, and a terrifying, undeniable pleasure. He was beautiful. He was powerful. And in this singular, physical way, he was utterly, completely helpless. Weaker.

And the truth settled into Calix’s bones with the cold, heavy weight of a final verdict.

The anger drained out of his movements. The punishing rhythm softened, the deliberate friction becoming less an act of retribution and more a deep, claiming, almost hypnotic roll of his hips. His hands, now free, slid from Aezhyrrael’s wrists. One came to rest on the sharp jut of the Draihari’s hip, holding him in place, while the other moved to gently, almost reverently, cup his jaw.

The shift in him was palpable. Calix's lips, usually set in a stern line, twisted into a dark, knowing smirk he might have learned from the Draihari himself. His hand slid from Aezhyrrael’s jaw to encircle the long, elegant column of his throat. The pressure was deceptively light, a statement of ownership rather than a threat, yet he hoped for Aezhyrrael’s breath to catch, the pulse hammering against his thumb. A low, possessive growl rumbled in Calix's chest as he leaned down, his hips never ceasing their deliberate, claiming rhythm, and bit sharply into the pale flesh of Aezhyrrael's lower lip.

"I've been lied to."

The words strung around Aezhyrrael's throat in, indeed, profound betrayal. Inflammation of the sinew he'd woven willingly around his pet for now months. They knew one another in abyss and beneath the Starwell. The words sting him, more than he would admit except in a frown struggling with its own arousal, his own back curling under the weight.

The threat of his own wrists snapping within his body set him to a willing performance of writhing and panting in overstimulation, overwhelmed also by the aether just overhead. It was ferocious-- his gauri's storm one of more. A furious wolf whose maw he struggled between in realisation and in new-found adoration.

You wouldn't, would you? You wouldn't break these bones after how willing you've become? After what we have been through?

Aezhyrrael says the words on a single, gasping breath, the lips and song at his ear a nightmare to him; dreamlike, fascinating in the blood wept from his words. His teeth, in pain, in thrill, in fear, temptation, flash and he could feel his own wrists and arms begin to tremor under the strain. Marrow flexing inside the bone and the connections at his wrist an unyielding buzz of pain through his arms.

He was breathless in arousal and the raw, painful weight over him. Speechless as he awaited death eagerly.

He bares his body willingly, in fear and excitement a little more yielding. Ecstatic to be broken for a moment of adoration bound in the black whorl of his lover's rage.

"Ahha…" He gasps, allowing himself to be subsumed in Calix's entirety. The heat, the hunger, and the relief in his own struggling arms as that vice relents from him. It relieves the nerves in a terrified, screaming instant that Aezhyrrael moans beneath him for, struggling in his grip in deepest, fearing arousal. He anticipated the weight again, the claws, the teeth to show and to break his jaw and his arms first. The weight of his gauri and the musculature in the dark, on display with a top baring arms and shoulders to Aezhyrrael's pleasure, terrified him.

The flexion of corded muscles terrified him. Muscles and bones beneath that could destroy his own with such ease. Were it that the pack knew the strength of their teeth against the bones of the stag, would they not be tempted also?

Aezhyrrael relents, welcoming the humping with rolls of his own hips in careful, pained synergy with him. Beauty likewise. Terrifying, arousing beauty like an unexpected storm from the sea. Nothing else compared.

The hands releasing his wrists ran a line from sternum to his belly and to his hips and he shrivels, eyes rolling needily. The judgment of the touching sent his mind into spirals-- made him nauseous in desire and sickly, possessed aether.

Heat at his jaw was a tribute to sacrifice, he foresaw. Welcomed as his own hands reached with renewed ferocity to grab the forearm closest to him, holding, yielding. It was warm, pounding with the lifeblood of each other and Nhera and how he deserved it and more. A king of ancient, stormy forests as Calix was, given his gift of fate by Zhaine himself.

The hand rests over his throat and he wonders quickly, resigned quickly, to the death that came at the hands of Calix's strength. As he broke his neck; crushed his throat, if suffocation would prolong the suffering that his love was owed.

"I could ask for no better, as I-- as you return me to the stars for my treason." He gasps willingly, eyes lidding in struggle as he leans into the touch.

Aezhyrrael's brows knit as the rest of his flesh falls apart for him beneath. He relaxes, against the cushions, begging for death as his own at the hight of pleasure. Would he allow him that ecstasy? Had Calix the fate to sacrifice his power for his own... He would contest him in wails of pleasure burned out in the night.

He would not kill him. He suspects this. But how he would beg and plead for it in play or otherwise.

Teeth puncture the flesh of his lip and he gasps, offering a willing moan as he tries to return a messy bite- a kiss.

Caught up in desires spurred by terror, adoration. He would do anything for him.

He plays at fucking him back for moments and his eyes roll, arousal stiff beneath himself. He plays his vision over the wolf and gorges on his elegance for himself with a purr, claws raking through Calix's arm as he begged him closer.

Calix would feel him begin to writhe in rising, consenting terror as his own breath trapped itself against Calix's hand, brought lower and lower.

"Aaah--" He gasps, tongue curling in breathlessness. "I love you-- Calix." Said between a writhe beneath his hand.

The sounds Aezhyrrael made weren't just fear or pleasure; they were a fatalistic prayer. He heard the gasped words—"return me to the stars for my treason"—and felt the creature beneath him arching not just in sensation, but in offering. It was the posture of a willing sacrifice, a body begging for a final, glorious end at the peak of adoration. The anger in Calix’s movements faltered, confused by this ecstatic embrace of destruction. The punishing rhythm became hesitant, the retribution losing its satisfying edge.

Then, through a writhe of what looked like pure agony, Aezhyrrael’s hand came up, not to push, but to claw weakly at Calix’s arm, begging him closer. A sharp, desperate sound, half-gasp, half-sob, tore from his throat.

Aaah— I love you— Calix.

The words, raw and stripped of all artifice, struck Calix with the force of a physical blow.

Everything stopped.

The relentless motion of his hips ceased. His hands, which had been instruments of a grim lesson, went utterly still. The world, which had been a storm of heat, friction, and the scent of Aezhyrrael’s surrender, collapsed into a single, silent point of focus.

I love you.

The phrase was a splinter of pure, burning light in the shared darkness of their minds. It was a simple, Hyuron sentiment. A vulnerable, foolish, mortal confession. And coming from this ancient, cruel, and magnificent creature, it was the most disarming, paradigm-shattering thing Calix had ever heard.

His eyes lidded and he exhaled. The last of his anger didn't just cool; it was annihilated, replaced by a fierce, terrifying wave of something else entirely. It wasn't pity. It was a raw, primal possessiveness, the instinct of a dragon that has just stumbled upon a priceless, impossibly fragile jewel in the heart of a ruin. This treasure, Calix knew with a sudden, gut-wrenching certainty, did not deserve to be broken. It deserved to be owned. He was no longer looking at a liar to be punished.

He lowered his head, and the kiss he gave was not a punishment or a prelude to violence. It was a brand. Deep, consuming, and utterly possessive, it was a silent answer to the desperate, heretical confession Aezhyrrael had offered. It was a claiming, a vow of ownership sealed in the quiet intimacy of their shared darkness.

As their mouths moved together, a slow, deep exploration of this new territory, Calix’s hand—the one that had been an anchor on Aezhyrrael’s hip—slid lower, moving into the searing heat between their bodies. He felt the frantic, desperate pulse of the Draihari’s arousal, a testament to the exquisite torment he was in. With a deliberate, knowing pressure, Calix’s palm settled over him, not to harm, not even to tease, but to control the very heart of his pleasure. Calix held him fast, his own rhythm against the Draihari becoming a slow, deliberate claiming, a rocking motion designed to build the friction, to push the creature beneath him closer to the very edge he craved.

The feeling of Aezhyrrael’s utter helplessness, of his shuddering, frantic response to the precise movements of his hand, was a heady, intoxicating thing. The last of Calix's own control began to fray, not to anger, but to an overwhelming, shared need. He felt his own climax building, a deep, coiling pressure that mirrored the one he was commanding in Aezhyrrael.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against the Draihari's, their panting breaths mingling in the charged air. "Aezhyrrael," he gasped, the name a raw, ragged thing.

“Love you.” He relents through a breath.

Feral arrogance curtailed by orgasmic desire recognised, in clarity, that it was so much more within than a fracturing of truth. It was the effortless unweaving of all that the both of them had known. The power that Aezhyrrael held over him in claw and fang diminished to a weightless, useless struggle.

And at the precipice of it, he welcomed it at that precipice. He writhed, ribs indented in light and shadow between life's glow and Calix's own shadow. The distant lands across Nhera untouched and the darkness in both their scars carved through one another; rivers of blood, claimed by the other. The predation below canopy and above burrow of a felid, perfected huntress, stalking in perfect lockstep with the understory after prey that did not see her.

Had Aezhyrrael seen her, heard the drawl of Arunaic narration overhead, he could have laughed. At it. At them. Now he was simply a huntress within another's domain-- willingly so. He imagined all his scars splitting and bleeding him out for his keeping this strength from his piece of divinity.

It faltered, slowing until it stopped. Until Aezhyrrael lifts his chest in begging, sapping strength of breath as he anticipated the end in drunken bliss. Easily captured.

He embraces it, the hue-shift of fangs above as he gasps out those terrible mortal words of him. Hyuron sentiment parsed through a lens of possession. Hyuron sentiment in the the so-many cushions, toys, treats brought to him like prey-gifts to a mated predator. The procession of papers and folded cards painted by Theastone's artisans and sold for tokens.

Worship of the ethereal in singular fixation above him, stripped for him of performance with his own claims on display to him.

Beautiful, in his gaze and mind's eye when the corners of his vision blackens. He was an apex predator above all others in the city's territory, wasn't he. Between night-eyes that long accepted him and the way he skulked in the night- for Aezhyrrael- and the lingering feral instinct.

Aezhyrrael, drifting, was confident in his possession. Obsessed by it.

The kiss, unexpected, punishes him in its fullness beneath the binds of strangulation. He hisses, gasping into Calix's mouth for welcome breath.

Adoration, gorged on by him-- not in draihari ferocity or bites that cut away sensation before overlong came, but adoration eclipsed by that for Calix.

"You.." Aezhyrrael leaned into his hands, every changing pressure of his palm welcomed effortlessly with a snarl.

Frustration, instantaneous at the humping over his own waist and the pinning of his own pleasure against himself. He let out a wail-- unable to help himself. An intoxicated, feral yowl into his pet's mouth as he parts it again to keep him there for longer. So effortless as he was to do anything else against the strength binding them to one another in these long, terrible moments.

His love above terrible, languid also. The both of them comprehended this frustration. Aezhyrrael growls at him for it, heavy in the throat in desperation and broken between pants into his lord's mouth.

Composed yet. A sneering grin in competition of their mutual closeness- he could feel it- as he rubs his own hips as much as strength afforded him against his creature's hand. Himself gripping the hand at his throat still.
"Aezhyrrael,"

"Ahha..-?" He groans, eyes rolling to his love- his gauri- in play to outlast him. Close as he was, he could--

"Love you."

Long had he learned the weight of the words when amongst the beasts that spoke them, and it assists him to a climax with a sudden slutty prostration against the hands to strangle himself to breathlessness and rub himself against his pet both, a layer of silk the only separation between flesh and hand.

He gasps, the dribble leaked against his own belly and silk while trapped-- and bares his fangs with a feral hiss that was all desperate breath.

"Calix--" He pants, hoarse, ears and face flush in violet; a slender leg curls up behind Calix on the couch and kicks carefully, effortlessly in play and struggle. Both dressed in draihari stirrup-wear and terrible claws poised over the leg of the chair seeking prey he could not rake into.

Breathe. Breathe. Aezhyrrael's eyes lid and he groans into Calix's mouth- unwilling to beg away his power as he simply suffocated.

"My gauri-- I did not lie to you.."