#taliyra

Something lodged in her throat as she considered the human equivalents back on Earth.

She had to remind herself it wasn't just the corrupt wealthy in that room.

Khravel had slid into their ranks from some unseen position. She didn't know how she missed him until that moment, since he he towered over everyone. Once more, Taliyra considered the tales of folk heroes back on her home. It was hard to ignore Khravel's own mythos in the making as he made his way through other Tivikonians.

But, oh, how young he looked! The lines of a hard life still edged his mouth and his expression was as stony and flat as it was to this day. A pale statue of a man with only the barest hint of blood-red at the edges of his horns, his fingertips. There was still soft youth in his face, though, and an energy barely constrained by his self-discipline.

From his position at the other end of the couch, Khravel openly watched Taliyra. She was too engrossed to notice his attention, leaning forward with her eyes wide and reflecting the scene. Her every breath, her every move, was observed as he tried to gauge her emotional state.

He hardly needed to watch the screen. From the sounds alone, he could tell exactly what was happening on screen, supplemented by his own memory. He'd watched the scene over often enough, especially early on into his career and, well, the court case that ended when he was elected.

Finally, someone realized this tall pale Tivikonian, dressed in plain greyish black, did not belong.

Taliyra watched the alarm ripple through the crowd. Heads turned to face Khravel, the crowd shifted away from the stranger. He didn't seem to notice as he raised a delicate glass to his lips, sipping the brilliant blue alcohol unperturbed.

Someone had gotten to Bandor. The slightly-gold Tivikonian turned, pale eyes glinting hard even in the aged footage. When Khravel tilted his attention toward Bandor, lifted his glass in greeting while his features remained impassive, Taliyra bit back a smile.

Bandor, however, was not amused. Taliyra could almost narrate the scene herself. There was a brief flutter of recognition, an almost visible flinch, but then the golden Tivikonian steeled himself. This pale interloper, though huge, couldn't have been Scorn. His coloration was all wrong! Bandor jabbed an index finger at Khravel, angry spittle flying as he said, “Who the fuck are you? Who let you in here?”

“Careful what you say, the security feeds are being broadcast live,” replied Khravel, his tone bland, as if he wasn’t about to commit murder on a mass scale.

With a jerky straightening of his spine, Bandor brought his wrist gauntlet up and nearly pounded his fingers against the interface. The screen hanging above the fireplace flashed to life. It was as young Khravel said, the security feed displayed on a channel that Taliyra had designated a news channel in current day. Bandor's fingers moved on his gauntlet, trying a different channel. The same image showed on screen. Flick, flick, flick, again and again, the same view.

Well, not the exact same, Taliyra realized. There were various angles, various hacked cameras, displaying the inside of the room. Some were obviously coming from cameras hidden in decorative plants and knick-knacks, as well.

One of the guests peeled from the crowd and made a beeline for the door, setting their drink on a side table. “Well, this has been fun, old boy, but I really must be go-"

They nearly ran into the door, obviously expecting it to open upon their approach. A low-grade dread filled the room as the other guests watched as the first tried coming at the door again. Nothing. They tried to pry it open to no avail.

By this point, the dancers on the stage had stopped. They exchanged confused looks, before retreating off the platform and hunkering down by the stage, eyes wide.

While the dancers’ survival instincts bloomed, entitlement and outrage sifted over the guests.

“What is this? Open the blasted door!”

“You can't do this to us! Do you even know who we all are.”

“Where are the guards?”

The last outrage question quieted the rabble as people glanced around, hoping to find their burly security entail parting from the shadows. However, no one was there.

“Do you feel that pit of fear in your stomach? That uncertainty biting through your blood?” Someone charged Khravel as he began speaking, though it hardly bothered the pale Tivikonian. He sidestepped them, smashing his delicate glass against their face before he grabbed the back of their collar.

“Where will salvation come from, you ask, for you always get saved, you always get bailed out.” Only the last words edged with a snarl as Khravel hoisted his opponent, slammed them into a nearby wall.

Other guests separated from the throng, charging with makeshift weapons: A billionaire warmonger with a heavy metal bit of décor; a knife brandished by a businessman that managed healthcare systems; a fireplace poker wielded by tech mogul.

Khravel continued, his voice as steady as the others approached. “You and your businesses blossom, while the average Tivikonian struggles.”

The fight couldn’t have gone smoother had it been choreographed. The fire poker arced down, only to be caught by Khravel. Simultaneously, the knife-wielder jerked forward, intent to plunge the blade into pale flesh. Khravel grabbed Knife’s arm, adjusting their inertia until the blade sunk into the side of Fire Poker. Confused hollers bubbled up as Metal Décor, unable to stop the swing of their heavy weapon, slammed into Knife’s back.

In the chaos, Khravel wrenched the fire poker away, whipping it into the side of the third opponent’s head before turning to swing at a fourth that tried to sneak up on him.

Just like that, one opponent stabbed, one bludgeoned, one sprawled on the ground and bleeding, and one would-be sneak attacker thwarted.

“But that's their fault, isn't it? They lack motivation, ingenuity, direction.” Each word was emphasized with a meaty thwak of the fire poker cracking across one of the injured four. Each swing becoming harsher, blood spraying and bones crunching, as anger steeled Khravel’s tone. “Though one would say they merely lack resources, resources currently being hoarded by those in this room.”

Swinging the fire poker up, he made a slow, sweeping gesture to the others in the room as he turned to face them. They all stared at him, wide-eyed, the four wannabe heroes no more than lumps of viscera under his feet. Taliyra watched rapt as he angled his head without blinking, a predatory movement that sent hot shivers down her spine and snagged her breath.

“But that is fine, is it not?” His fingers unwound from the poker, the guests watching it drop to the floor and flinching as it loudly clanged against the wood. A sizzling sound bit through the air, drawing their gazes back to the man in grey-black.

In their distraction, they didn’t see the laser-blades extend from the gloves adorning his upper set of arms. In an X motion, he slid the laser-blades against each other, the condensed light hissing and sparking. In the nanosecond they looked up, he moved.

Long legs devoured the distance, and he sliced the dual blades against the throats of two others that he’d pulled closer with his lower arms. One victim, another tech conglomerate accused of breaching privacy and selling private data. The other, a politician whose wealth came from insidious organizations, increasingly unregulated under Bandor’s reign.

The bodies had barely dropped when reality finally cracked through the shock. Screams tore through the air as bodies flailed, aiming for escape or attack.

“All of you deserve your exorbitant paychecks,” spat Khravel, his right blade cleaving through a skull as he kicked away a smaller attacker, “- your luxurious lifestyles.”

His left blade came down and through the leg of another illicit warmonger just before his right set of arms held and decapitated them. “All the while others wither and starve.”

The longer he spoke, the more Taliyra felt his rage. Her cheeks warmed, watching as with nearly every word, he dispatched another life, bore down on another person, silenced a screaming victim. “Because you dare to pursue success at all costs. Even at the cost of those you deem lesser. Especially at those you deem lesser!”

Like a horrific, gore-dripping phoenix, Khravel rose from the destruction to turn to the last remaining figure. Bandor.

However, he wasn’t armed with a makeshift weapon or a blade, but with a heavy, military-grade laser rifle. Khravel’s gaze flicked to it and a nasty smile curled at Bandor’s lips. “That’s right, you fucking bitch. Not so high-and-mighty now that I got a bigger weapon, huh?”

Red eyes slid back to Bandor’s face, expression stony and unmoved. Pointing one of the blades at the Overseer, Khravel stepped closer and cocked his head once more. A silent challenge.

A dark, muddied yellow color darkened across Bandor’s cheeks and the edges of his being as a wordless snarl left his lips, his finger pulling the trigger.

Not accounting for the strong recoil, Bandor stumbled and slammed back into his desk. The fumble made his shot go wide and to his right. Luckily, Khravel had dodged to his ownright, but the laser plunged into his left shoulder all the same, making Taliyra gasp loudly years later.

Without pausing, he charged the Overseer, murderous intent making his eyes hard red rubies. His lower left hand grabbed the gun by the barrel, which was likely still burning hot from the prior charge and shot. Bandor yelped as his weapon was torn from his grip and the laser-blades were held to him, one at his throat and the other at his gut.

Khravel loomed over Bandor, their difference in size painfully apparent. With trembling lips, the Overseer nearly sobbed, “Please, please, don’t hurt me! I-I’ll give you whatever you want! Anything, just name it!”

He didn’t even hesitate. It was like Khravel was prepared to answer Bandor. He probably was, Taliyra realized, as she considered his living conditions while growing up. “A Tivik where no one goes without shelter, food, clean water, clothing, education, medicine, any necessities. Where our infrastructure and communities are invested in more than our wars. Where lives and livability mean more than profit.”

Bandor’s throat struggled to swallow as he minutely shook his head. “I-I can’t-“

“You won’t,” corrected Khravel with a growl. His lower arms grabbed Bandor, swinging the other man around and onto the ground. As Bandor tried to scramble back up, off the bodies he’d been thrown atop of, Khravel brought his foot down hard on the man’s back.

Taliyra’s breath caught in her throat, watching the Overseer slammed to the ground, Khravel’s large boot pinning him down.

“This is my campaign promise fulfilled, before I’m even considered a candidate.” Red eyes stared straight into a camera, pitching his voice louder to drown out Bandor’s yelling. “My name is Khravel Iedro and I've displaced the corruption festering in our government.”

That was one way of putting it, Taliyra thought as her gaze flicked to the room at large, the destruction of bodies. Knowing this stunt had won him a seat as a Delegate weighed down on her shoulders, realizing she could watch this monumental moment as she looked back to the Khravel on screen.

He still stared unwaveringly at the camera, continuing his speech. “In this room, I have proven I’ll do whatever it takes for the people of Tivik. I promise I’ll make life better for all.”

Then his blades plunged down into Bandor’s back, the man sputtering and coughing up blood the instant the lasers cleaved through him. Khravel did not let him suffer for long, pulling one blade free and savagely slicing across the back of Bandor’s neck, freeing his head from his body.

As the now-former Overseer fell completely silent, the footage still rolling and watching Khravel as he quietly stood and surveyed his work, Taliyra pressed back into the cushions of her couch. She blinked as she focused on the here-and-now, trying to recalibrate her sense of being.

She was on Tivik-4 herself, in her room, meant to procreate with the very man she watched kill. Her eyes flicked to Khravel on the far end of the couch. He watched her steadily, waiting.  

“You actually did kill all those people,” she whispered, the reality still hard to grasp.

“I did. It wasn't simply me, however. We had people infiltrating their staff and there were people with unknown sentiments that could have stopped me.” They didn't, of course, or else he wouldn't have been sitting there as a Delegate. When he thought of those individuals who could have upended his whole mission, who allowed him to continue, a flare of pride roused inside his chest. They were part of the reason he could help Tivik, wholly and fully. And for those – and his followers who aided him – he was always thankful.

However, he didn't know where Taliyra's own sentiments lay. He turned to the screen, watching his younger self approach the dancers and help them to their feet, reassuring them they would be all right. “Are you frightened of me now?”

She pursed her lips, realizing it wasn’t fear simmering inside her thoughts. Oh, it was a quivering sensation, tinged with uncertainty and a hint of confusion. But it was not fear, she realized as she shifted awkwardly. “No.”

Slowly, like the younger version of him in the security camera had done, Khravel turned his face toward her. His red eyes flared, but unlike the younger recorded version of himself, it wasn't anger heating his gaze.

“You shouldn't lie, Taliyra,” he breathed, an unstoppable emotion flaring through him.

The way he moved, the way he looked at her, made Taliyra tear her gaze away, too flustered to meet his eye. “I'm not!”

Unable to help himself, he moved toward her and she, instinctively, turned toward him. One hand landed on the back of the couch, the other passed over her to grip the arm of the couch. His lower two hands braced on the furniture, bracketing Taliyra’s sides. “Then why are you trembling? Why won't you look at me?”

“You're right.” She groaned as he boxed her in, his body heat sinking into her and making her lower stomach twinge. Dragging both her hands down her face, she took advantage of being obscured and forced her words out through an embarrassingly tight throat. “I feel like I should be afraid, but I'm not. I'm kind of turned on, really, and I didn't really expect that.”

Khravel stared down at her, consternation furrowing his brow before a snort left him. Lowering her hands, she peeked up at him as a deep chuckle left him, the ghost of a grin tilting at his lips and only aiding in making the heat rise inside her veins.

“Of course, you would be turned on. You're truly incorrigible.” Khravel shook his head, his voice verging on a vague laugh.

Frowning, Taliyra fully lowered her hands – revealing blushing cheeks – and pointed to the exit. “If you're complaining, the door is over there. You're free to leave whenever.”

Baring his teeth in a vicious smile, Khravel lowered his head toward her. Against her ear, his voice fell dangerously soft and smooth, “If you wanted me gone, you should have said you were scared of me.”

She didn't get a chance to question him before he was on her.

-

Those words made Khravel freeze. He'd been watching her carefully, watching as the expressions waffled and crossed over her face, curious as to what sort of thoughts passed in her head, but now her words had him careening down an internal route. “Yigo is personable and affable, things I am not. I saw how you looked at him and Laryse, how you look at him.”

Taliyra's lips twitched again, the smile not reaching her eyes. “And how do I look at him?”

He tilted his head to the side, surveying her with a discerning gaze. “Your eyes brighten and you smile more at him. You flush when he accidentally bumps against you or when he brushes your hair behind your ear.”

“You’ve never seen such things.” She laughed, trying to hide how her heart fluttered nervously and how her cheeks warmed. There was no way he had seen such things. She'd never acted like that around Ghensil when Khravel was present.

“Yes, I have. On security cameras,” he replied, level and calm.

Taliyra’s eyes widened, remembering how Khravel’s very records were suspected of being hacked. Was he also a fucking hacker on top of being a crime boss? Did he have someone else to do it for him?

“As a Delegate, I have access to surveillance systems,” he answered, as if reading her mind.

Of course. And he had taken advantage of that power to spy on her. She faintly wondered if he spied on her in other cases and promptly tried to ignore the heat that stirred in her chest. “Fine, so you’ve been spying on me through cameras, that hardly proves anything.“

He hummed, low and deep, before taking one step forward. “The opera house, the three of you went to see the old Thraxian play, Vhoeria Oien. Yigo sat between you and Laryse, arm draped along the back of your shoulders”

Heat bloomed over her cheeks, her eyes widening. Even though he had shunned her, she was feeling like a child caught red-handed doing something wrong. “He was doing the same to Laryse!”

“His hand was also on your thigh, creeping up the entire show,” Khravel added, his voice low and soft.

His tone didn't ease the fluster lighting through her blood. It felt like her very bones were jittering, caught between anxiety and something else she didn't want to name. Everything was simmering along her body, heating her back and her neck embarrassingly.

Her inner turmoil piqued amusement in Khravel's mind. Not that he was paying much attention to how he was feeling, he was more intent on answering her question. “The art gallery coat room.”

He took another step forward and Taliyra's heart bounced hard in her chest. The way he listed her apparent transgressions so casually gave an added bite to the heat suffusing her body.  

“Club Esi’al on the second moon,” he purred, pausing to musingly add, “Quite a lot of grinding on everyone's part.”

An embarrassing squeak left Taliyra as he mentioned the club. Oh, she had nearly forgotten the club. It had been more robust, less subdued, cultural experience. After all, Tivik-4 and their lax social standards made the clubbing scene rather mature. Hence why Club Esi'al was on a moon, where only grown adults could travel.

By the time Khravel finished listing off moments Taliya certainly remembered, he had made it to the back of the couch. She stared up at him, swallowing heavily as she realized the air had grown unbearably warm.  

Carefully, he pressed all four of his hands along the back of the couch, leaning toward her. A predatory air swathed around him, natural and intense, even though he wore his most neutral expression. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, her gaze following the movement.

“I’m here to fuck you, Taliyra. Provided you are feeling well enough to take me, of course.” Khravel’s gaze dropped obviously along her body, as if taking inventory of her. She shifted under the look, almost feeling it physically fall over her.

“I-I don’t think I’m in the right headspace.” Her words rushed out, strained and breathless. Feeling his eyes bounce back to her face, Taliyra cleared her throat, but averted her gaze from his. “I was actually about to watch something.”

“In that case, I’ll keep you company, as you have previous requested.” Rounding the couch, he lowered himself on the cushions at the end furthest from Taliyra, fully aware she was trying to get rid of him. He wasn't having that and, at any rate, he was curious what exactly offput her. With a lazy wave to the prepared screen, he leaned back. “Put it on the screen, I'll watch with you.”

When she didn't immediately load the evening's entertainment, Khravel shot her a look.

“You don’t have to stay,” Taliyra muttered, lips puckered as she stared at the empty holo-screen. It took effort to keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice. “I’m sure you’d rather be elsewhere.”

Narrowing his eyes, Khravel's interest piqued. What in the stars had she been preparing to watch that she wouldn't want him seeing? While his brain gave answers – such as personal vids of Ghensil – he found himself asking, “What were you planning on watching?”

Biting her bottom lip, Taliyra's eyes jumped away from Khravel yet again, before swiveling back to him with a pleading look. “If I say porn, will you leave?”

“No,” he drawled instantly, amusement nearly twitching across his lips as she flushed.

“Damn.” Her eyes darted away from him, her shoulders hunching to her shoulders. Pursing her lips, she weighed the options while he silently stared at her. Awkwardness itched along the back of her neck just before she found herself hurriedly saying, “I was going to watch the security footage from the beginning of your campaign.”

With a sigh, her gaze returned to his face, finding his expression momentarily confused.  

“Footage?” There hadn't been a formal announcement of his campaign, just… Ah, that footage. “Oh, that. Well, go ahead and put it on.”

“Are you serious?” Whining edged along her word, that pleading expression leaking back into her eyes. Why was he so intent on staying now? Damned man, picking the most inopportune moment to grow a backbone around her.

Khravel inclined his head to her, giving her a steady look before giving a subtle nod toward the screen.

Feeling like an ancient felon being led to the gallows, she sighed and turned to her wrist gauntlet. Heat licked up the back of her neck, feeling Khravel's intent gaze on her. A few taps and the holo-screen shifted color, a room pixelated into focus on screen as her room's lights automatically dimmed.

A newscaster voice-over was narrating the scene, highlighting the players in the room. Only part of Taliyra paid attention as the other part writhed at her current predicament. The surreality of the moment coiled around Taliyra like a cobra, making her heart thumping erratically and an uncertainty buzzing along her veins.

Khravel draped  – not simply sat, but draped – himself over the far end of the couch. His two upper arms spread out along the back of the couch, his legs crossed ankle over knee with a hand gripping his foot. His final hand laid along the armrest, fingers tapping. Normally, he never took up this much space.

Taliyra couldn't help but imagine why he was doing it now. In her periphery, she couldn't help but sneak glances between watching the as-of-yet uneventful footage, watching how his chest rose and fell with his breaths, how his fingers tapped, how he stared straight ahead as if the television was displaying something that deserved his unwavering attention and not things he had already lived through.

Forcing her eyes to the screen, Taliyra tried to focus. She hoped watching these clips would settle her emotions, once and for all, even with Khravel acting so differently at her side.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Khravel’s own wrist tech pinged in response, receiving the data she had sent. However, he didn’t even look at it. He just steadily stared at her, his jaw tight. Bruised ego and guilt threaded through his thoughts, but his words took on a harsher edge as he asked, “Do you believe barging into my office, during my workday, to accuse me of being bad at sex was your best option?”

Frustration flared through Taliyra, annoyed that that was what he took away from her confrontation. Poor sex wasn’t the only issue here and she had a job to do, dammit! She slammed her hands on his desk as she leaned forward, a frown etching further across her lips. She met his eyes head-on, her gaze not wavering from his face. “I wouldn’t have to corner you in your office if you’d talk to me during out nighttime meetings.”

Still, Khravel did not move. Something snapped through the air between them and it was not anger. At least, on his part. He was fairly certain Taliyra was pissed and, from the slight glassiness in her eyes, hurt by his actions. That part, her potential pain, made guilt double through him.

Shoving away from his desk, Khravel rose to his feet to tower over Taliyra. “I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting to prepare for.”

He gathered up the tablets on his desk, straightening them and making sure they were securely locked before stowing all but one in his desk. The remaining tablet, his own personal one, he brought with him as he made his way to the door.

Watching Khravel as he cleaned up his desk, Taliyra remained undeterred when he moved to leave. “I’ll attend with you.”

“Excuse me?” Once more, his eyes widened and he pinned the human with a look. She had skirted up to his side, completely confident in her decision, without him even weighing in.

“Tivikonians have low population numbers, partially due to the after-effects of various plagues that have affected libido and fertility, among other things.” Taliyra fell into step beside Khravel, considering he did not even slow. “Your society is a little laxer about explicit acts in public versus Terran cultures, creating strictly adult-only sections of restaurants, malls, public transit, and more to… encourage copulation as soon as the moment hits. Isn’t that right?”

“What does that have to do with us?” He already knew her point, but that didn’t help his mood.

“It’s common practice for Companions to accompany their counterparts everywhere,” she stated, shooting him a look. A sly, if smug, smile twisted at her lips when Khravel finally paused, staring down at her. A small part of her worried he regretted having her as a Companion, but the angry part – the part bristling at his treatment of her – sallied forth. She shot him a sharp smile, pitching her voice a little lower so E’verra would not hear. “Perhaps your poor performance is simply due to environmental issues or an afflicted libido. In which case, having me follow you everywhere will help us assess how and when to better the chances of conception.”

Heat slid down Khravel’s back, her words making his spine straighten. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t feel pressured, we have two months to– Hey!“

He heard her heels clicking insistently behind him as he veered down the hall. Heat – angry, flustered, agitated – razed up his back as pride barely kept him from sprinting down the corridor. Khravel caught E’verra watching from their desk as Taliyra dogged at his heels, their slight smirk making the back of his neck burn.

The two fell into silence as they made their way through the innards of the office space. Khravel nodded to colleagues or waited for people to pass, while Taliyra remained silent and watchful.

It made his teeth gnash together, just having her near him. His background thoughts teetered on indecent as he forced his pulse to remain calm. Deep breaths, not so deep she’d notice but deep enough to keep his calm. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this new turn of events. There had to be some way to convince Taliyra to forget her scheme.

But this was her job. He was her job. Providing him with a child was the whole point of this ordeal. He couldn’t tell her not to do it.

Could he? If he explained what happened with Avry, perhaps Taliyra would give up.

The thought struck just as his hand pressed to the conference room console, scanning his palm before the door hissed open. He briefly considered motioning to Taliyra, allowing her to go in first. The meeting wasn’t anything particularly confidential. Mostly going over the language of outdated laws, reviewing the language of new proposals.

She did not even wait for his invitation, however. The woman swept in before he could turn to her, leaving Khravel to stare after her, marinating in a confusing turmoil of aggravation and lust. His eyes flicked over her form, both relieved and annoyed by how much skin was covered, how well the outfit fit her, how he wanted to see more of her.

Pausing on her way to the table, Taliyra gleaned over the other members already in the room.

There was a pale yellow Tivikonian – presumably whoever Khravel was meeting with – and a human Companion. Taliyra narrowed her eyes, finding the yellow Tivikonian not as tall as Khravel, but broad and stocky. Their four arms were bulging with muscle and the horn-like structures on their head were slim, angling backward. They seemed familiar. Perhaps she’d seen them on the vidscreen during her many hours alone in her room.

The Terran, however, Taliyra did not recognize in the slightest. Though she was obviously a fellow ProxyPanion, judging by how she and the Tivikonian sat rather close, exchanging whispers before she and Khravel entered. They were shorter than Taliyra, with a slighter frame but curvature for a healthy handful. Purple-dyed hair, cut in a short curly bob, and big blue eyes, enhanced by their button nose and full cheeks. They also were wearing the gauzy fine fabric that left little to the imagination that Taliyra reserved for Khravel’s nighttime visits.

“Delegate Yivo,” Khravel nodded to the yellow Tivikonian as he entered the conference room. His eyes twitched to the new human, gleaning over her form. “And I have not had the pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

Watching Khravel, Taliyra quietly disseminated his expression, the intonation of his words. He seemed painfully neutral, but whether that was his genuine demeanor or due to her presence, she couldn’t say. It would be easier to figure it out after additional time together.

Besides, why should she care if he found the other Companion more appealing? She certainly did not care in the slightest!

As Khravel entered, the yellow Tivikonian smiled and stood in greeting. “I hope you don’t mind, Delegate Iedro. I brought my newly-acquired Companion, Laryse, she/her.”

Laryse smiled shyly as she got to her feet, giving Khravel and Taliyra a nod of acknowledgement while the yellow Tivokian introduced Khravel and, to Taliyra, himself. Her hands were nervously clasped in front of herself.

Newlyi-introduced Delegate Ghensil Yivo wrapped a lower arm around Laryse’s shoulders, tugging her close to his side. Taliyra had to swallow a surge of envy, watching the two exchange smiles between them. “Thought I’d see what the fuss was all about and, admittedly, this has been a charming solution to our population problems. And is this your elusive Companion?”

Before Khravel could answer, Taliyra took the reins. She smiled at Yivo, inclining her head in a small bow. “Yes, my name is Taliyra Deyva, she/they. Khravel – I mean, Delegate Iedro – and I have been discussing making more public appearances together.”

“That is good to hear! There’s growing concerns about your new Companion rarely being seen with you.” Despite being across the table, Yivo made a motion with his free arms, as if he was nudging his colleague. He also added a wink in for good measure. “You could sway some hold-outs just by having her on your arm at functions, Delegate Iedro.”

“Yes, well, we’re still discussing it,” Khravel barely managed to keep his words level enough to not be considered a hiss. Taking a seat, he brought up the necessary documents they needed to discuss on his tablet. “Let’s move on to business, shall we?”

The two Tivokians quickly settled into chairs on the same side of the table as the women did similarly, on the opposite site of the table and further down. Soon, the Delegates were discussing law verbiage and legislation wording and regulations. The laws weren’t much different than Earth, in Taliyra’s assessment. In most cases, they are far more reasonable than the bulk of Terran laws of the past.

Though she noted some interesting tidbits, intent on looking them up later on, she turned to Laryse. The other woman was looking down on her gauntlet, seemingly checking messages. Clearing her throat, Taliyra waited for Laryse to look up, before politely breaching into conversation, “Have you been in Tivik-4 long?”

“About a week,” Laryse replied, smiling awkwardly as her shoulders hunched imperceptibly.

Taliyra nodded, smiling with ease. “I’ve been here four months. I can give you some places to visit, if you like. Museums, galleries, shopping, restaurants. Tivokian culture and history is very interesting.”

“Oh, yes! Can we exchange information?” The knot of Laryse’s shoulders eased, her smile growing a little broader. After scanning each other’s gauntlets, sharing contact preferences and data, Taliyra pointed out some of her favorite spots thus far on Tivik-4. Laryse scrolled through the information Taliyra sent her via holoscreen, the other woman pointing out other highlights and noting the Companion Support Group also available through ProxyPanion.

After a lull in conversation, the “It’ll be nice to have more humans to spend time with. I imagine I’m a bit of a distraction to Ghensil’s workload.”

Down the table, the yellow Tivokian chuckled. “You are not a distraction at all.”

The fondness in Delegate Yivo’s voice made Taliyra swallow a lump in her throat.

Equally, Khravel shot the other man an annoyed look. Despite the fact they had hammered out quite a lot of verbiage issues and updated some outdated terminology, he’d been catching his colleague throwing wistful glances toward Laryse. Those glances had only increased the longer they worked.

Laryse pressed her lips together, shooting her counterpart a stern look. “You say that, but you are…” Her gaze flicked to Taliyra and Khravel, her shoulders rising to her ears. “Well, it’s not appropriate to say in front of others.”

“Let me guess, he’s very lusty.” Taliyra gave a lazy, knowing smile, watching how a smirk toyed across Yivo’s face. Not that she knew personally, but she had seen other Companions and their alien counterparts eagerly partake in the public, strictly adult, sectors. In more recent weeks, she avoided those areas. It made her chest hurt and agitation flare through her thoughts.

She almost broke down in a fit of laughter when Laryse shot her a wide-eyed look, cheeks flushed pink. She reached over to pat the other woman’s hand. “It’s okay to say here. We’re adults here and Tivikonians are more open about sex.”

For the second time, Laryse’s shoulders eased as she exhaled slowly. “Oh, I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. I haven’t been able to get out much to get a read on,” she made a circling motion with her hand, “Everything.”

“He’s been keeping you busy at home?” Taliyra grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

“Something like that,” Laryse replied, snorting down a laugh.

Taliyra laughed too, while fighting down her own jealousy. It wasn’t Laryse’s fault nor Yivo’s fault that her match-up had been far less exuberant with her. She only barely refrained from glancing down the table at Khravel. She wanted to gauge his reaction, see if he felt uncomfortable or leered at Laryse, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Laryse, if you keep talking about sex, I will have no choice but to cave to my baser instincts.” Delegate Yivo shot Laryse a playful look as one of his hands tapped the table twice. “Right here.”

The purple-haired woman’s lips puckered, her blue eyes narrowing on Yivo. “I doubt Taliyra and Delegate Iedro want to see that, Ghensil!”

Despite her reprimanding tone, her cheeks continued to darken and – from the way she shifted in her seat – Taliyra wondered if the other woman was excited. Giving a one-shouldered shrug, her eyes bounced between Laryse and Yivo, blatantly not looking at Khravel. “I don’t mind.”

“You do not have to, Miss Laryse.” The white-red Tivokian sighed, reading the awkwardness in the human’s body language and hoping his colleague wasn’t going to press the issue.

“I just… I don’t mind,” Laryse began, babbling as she tugged at a curl of her bob. “I don’t want to make any of you uncomforta–“

“Delegate Iedro will not mind. He spearheaded the movement to bring ProxyPanion to Tivik-4.” Yivo smiled, pushing his tablet away as he motioned for Laryse to come closer.

“If you’re all sure you don’t mind?” Laryse looked from Taliyra to Khravel, her pink cheeks unable to darken any further.

Suddenly, the weight of the room was on Khravel’s shoulders. Delegate Yivo, Laryse, and Taliyra were all looking at him, the only one who had yet to give permission for a show. Unable to argue, Khravel tried to force the tension in his shoulders to ease. With a motion of his hand, he attempted to smile. “Far be it for me to stop you two. I commend you both for your duties to Tivik’s populace.”

---

Next - Master List

“Because that wasn’t the point,” he answered after a beat of silence, struggling to put the history into words and opting for a simple answer. Distractedly, he caught a lock of Taliyra’s hair between the fingers of one hand, toying with it.

Taliyra’s eyes flicked to his hand, watching as he played with her hair. It felt odd, coming from Khravel, but her stomach still flipped in a strange delight. Her eyebrows dipped as she focused back in on the conversation, her lips curling downward. “The point?”

He sighed, releasing her hair to pinch the area between his eyes, where a human’s bridge would have been. “Children and sex workers don’t hold the power and infringing on the bodily consent of the weak wouldn’t have changed anything.”

When his gaze returned to Taliyra, understanding didn’t bloom over her face. She just stared up at him, uncomprehending.  

He hated this. Having to explain himself to anyone always left him agitated. Shouldn’t his reasons have been obvious? Shouldn’t the whole situation have laid itself out to Taliyra in her own head? But she wasn’t Tivikonian. She hadn’t been around when the prior government was in effect and he wasn’t sure how far back she’d read on Tivik’s history.

“Tivik was not always the planet you see today. There was a time when those with the wealth prospered more and more while the poor population were left to suffer,” he slowly began, his attention flicking to a spot above her head so he wouldn’t have to continually stare into her eyes. He’d get distracted doing so, but part of him was afraid she’d see his past flashing through his gaze, even if that was a silly concern. “I watched my whole life as the people around me lived struggling and died struggling. Lack of access to food, housing, adequate medical care. All the while, the rich grew richer and richer, while never seemingly hurting or suffering or dying before their time.”

His tongue flicked out over his lips as his attention tilted back to Taliyra. She stared up at him steadily, intently. There was no overwrought pity in her gaze, but behind the steeliness, there was a soft sympathy that he knew existed. The very thought made prickling sensations coast over his skin. “When I was an adolescent, I started stealing. Food for the hungry, medicine for the sick. As I got older, I realized it was never enough. Started robbing banks, hurting people, arson, and a laundry list of other things, including murder.“

Still, Taliyra’s gaze didn’t tarry from his. She held his gaze, almost challenging him to continue and not shy away from explaining himself. It made his heart pound in a way the fight from earlier hadn’t even accomplished. “Meanwhile, the rich kept digging their claws into every company, all the resources, and even the government, of the time. Time and time again, I saw the system fail to hold the corrupt accountable because they, or one of their patrons, were wealthy and pulled the strings of the system.”

The longer Khravel spoke, the further he lowered his face toward hers. It was hardly a conscious action and the movement was so slow, he hadn’t even been aware until her nose almost nudged against him. His voice dipped low and soft as he concluded, “I stepped up where the system failed.”

To Taliyra, everything Khravel said sounded like an ancient myth. A folk hero coming to the aid of his people where the powerful failed. It was poetic and probably wonderful for garnering votes. Had Khravel still been the skull-faced version she’d seen up until recently, she wouldn’t have believed it. But this skull-faced version somehow emitted danger naturally.

The way he slowly moved closer into her, edged into her personal space, had not gone unnoticed. His body heat pressed in against her, tainted with the scent of blood and sweat. His hands had re-positioned themselves as he spoke. His upper set bracketed her hips, his palms braced into the bed, while his lower set still clutched the edges.

Forcing her mind away from a preferred distraction, Taliyra slowly traced her attention over his face, trying to suss out any hint of farce. “And you were arrested for taking justice into your own hands?”

“I was caught once, after killing the prior Overseer and his…” Khravel sneered, tilting his head back and forth – his mouth nearly dipping to Taliyra – before finishing his sentence, “Advisors.”

“Overseer?” Her eyebrows jumped up, unfamiliar with that particular title.

“The position is non-existent now, but it was a singular leader for Tivik-4. Now it is just us elected delegates, running around with our heads cut off, trying to run a government.” There was more to it than just that. All of this happened nearly two decades ago and the first years without an Overseer, while reorganizing the government and reuniting the planet, had been utter chaos. There were younger Tivikonians who had only grown up knowing a Tivik that Khravel had a hand in crafting.

ProxyPanion would not have dug too far back into Tivik’s history, either. They were more focused on current-day events, unless it was something particularly egregious.

“Anyway, killing Overseer Bandor and his cabinet was the announcement of my campaign. And thus started my long career in politics,” Khravel finished, his voice dipping into self-deprecating sarcasm.

Without thinking, Taliyra’s hand fell to one of Khravel’s forearms, careful concern coloring her words. “Are you still part of the Enigma Syndicate?”

“I’m not the active leader, but I have sway,” he answered, his gaze falling to where she touched him. Tension along his shoulders and down his back eased at the light touch. As if his body had needed some physical indication that Taliyra was there and whole, not simply a crazed hallucination. “No government is perfect and crime will always be present. They keep tabs on what I cannot from my position in the government.”

That made sense, she supposed. Khravel was a higher-up in the government now and always seemingly busy, with finetuning proposals, challenging potentially problematic legislation, and coming up with solutions. Of course, part of her would mull over his past crimes at a later date. The events of the day were catching up to her and she couldn’t find herself caring about it overmuch now.

However, one question did tip out of her lips, “Why was ProxyPanion not made aware of this history of yours?”

That question snapped his gaze away from her hand and to her eyes, a bristle in his tone. “The whole of Tivik shouldn’t suffer because of my criminality.”

Taliyra hummed in reply, watching earnest fire flare through Khravel’s eyes and body language. His determination to help his people was so endearing, she found the corners of her lips tilting into a fond smile. That was a mistake, since his gaze flicked to her lips and heat razed up her back.

Clearing her throat, she tried to shake off the inappropriate thoughts trying to slice through her tiredness. “Old Tivik sounds like current-day Earth. Part of the reason I’m a ProxyPanion, really.”

Khravel’s eyes widened, a renewed fire burning in his red gaze. He hadn’t considered Earth being like Tivik of old and, all at once, new concerns hurtled through his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

A knock sounded just before Taliyra could answer. Whatever hold the moment had shattered as the door hissed open and Khravel pushed away from Taliyra, turning to leer at whoever had interrupted them.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Ghensil stood in the doorway, flashing them an awkward smile and half-waving a hand in greeting. He wore a pair of patient trousers, made of the same fabric as Taliyra’s gown. His torso and parts of his arms were wrapped in bandages, bruises forming along his pale yellow skin.

Khravel wanted to growl out a ‘yes’ but Taliyra piped up first with a cheerful, “Oh, Ghensil, I was worried about you. How are you holding up?”

In truth, Taliyra fell to personable auto-pilot. How quickly Khravel moved away from her had helped to shatter the moment, leaving her a little chilled and, somehow, annoyed. The way he had lingered near her, she could have almost believed he wanted to be near her. How foolish of her.

“As well as can be expected.” The yellow Tivikonian beamed at her as he edged closer, though Khravel remained rooted to his spot near the bed. Ghensil looked toward him, a hesitant smile creeping over his face. “Thank you. You were very impressive back there.”

Khravel grunted in response, crossing his arms over his chest while separate streams of thought battled in his head. Part of him blamed Ghensil for getting Taliyra wrapped up in such a dangerous situation even as another pat of him knew that wasn’t fair. Or at least suspected it wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t know until the investigation garnered more answers.

Accepting Khravel’s grunt as answer enough, Ghensil turned to Taliyra. “You’re well, I hope? You were out for quite awhile and I remember hearing them say something about trying to sway you to their cause during the…”

He trailed off, his mouth working around various words but landing on none.

“During your torture?” Taliyra suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Ghensil gave an awkward laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yes, that. Sorry, it’s… strange to think that I was tortured.”

“Don’t apologize for it, it’s a lot to process,” Taliyra said, smiling softly at the other Tivikonian, even as she felt fit to fall over. “I fared far better than you, so nothing to–“

The hiss of the door interrupted Taliyra. She sat straighter on the bed, half-expecting the doctor to have returned to finish the examination. However, she realized Dr. Ankrois hadn’t entered.

Khravel had left.

◯  ◯  ◯

Taliyra had settled into her couch, expecting another uneventful night. It had been a week and a half since the kidnapping and rescue. Khravel hadn’t visited her in all that time, which was fine. She hadn’t felt very frisky and simply wanted to exist quietly for a while. There had been communique from news outlets, of course, but she had refused all requests for interviews. She didn’t want to give the anti-Companion organization any platform.

Research had eaten away most of Taliyra’s hours. She sat on her tablet, scrolling through archives and reaching out to past reporters. Sometimes she ran into roadblocks, other times she had stumbled into clearance errors which eventually resolved itself. She wasn’t sure if Khravel knew where she was sticking her nose and, if he did, she wasn’t sure if she wanted his approval or frustration.

She should be learning this from him. Doing the research herself felt like a cop-out and an invasion of privacy, but considering his absence and her growing curiosity, she didn’t really care anymore.

Hours and hours, she ingested information reading articles and reports, watching news segments and surveillance recordings. The Enigma Syndicate and Old Tivik, as Taliyra had taken to calling it, had taken over a whole segment of her brain.

As she thought, Old Tivik was very much like her home. Corporations garnering control, resources dwindling for the poor and increasing for the rich. CEOs getting into metaphorical – and perhaps physical – beds with politicians. Corporate bailouts, slashed social programs, increasing health issues and social unrest.

It had gone on for ages and the effects were still being felt, though the ripples had severely lessened in recent years. Tivik-4’s current population problems seemingly stemmed from the actions or inactions of the past government, as well. Lack of regulations led to tainted products. Money-hungry war mongers destroyed swaths of Tivik and the people, which destroyed the environment, made a handful of animals go extinct, and stars knew what else. Illnesses were not handled adequately – leading to multiple pandemics – and the aftereffects ruined public health for years.

While the poor were left to fend for themselves, the rich could afford better products, avoid war, and had access to the best health innovations.

Then Khravel showed up. Many of his initial appearances were detailed as Skull-Face, but somewhere along the line, he eventually picked up the name Scorn.

And my, how young he appeared in those photos. Still the biggest Tivikonian around, but less filled-out, trim with adolescence and young adulthood. He also seemed angrier. Glaring every time a photo was taken, a scowl carved over the lower half of his face.

The name ‘Khravel Iedro’ only became known when he killed Bandor and the others. Although, there were rumors even that wasn’t his actual name, either. Evidence of hacking, dodgy recordkeeping, and the on-off destruction off said records made it hard to completely confirm.

Taliyra didn’t like that prospect in in the slightest. Something about Khravel not Khravel bothered her, despite the fact the idea of him going by Scorn didn't bother her in the slightest.

Well, that's what she told herself, at any rate. True, she hadn't gathered up the courage to watch The Footage just yet. The Footage being the recording from various security cameras of how Khravel massacred a whole room of then-officials. She absolved herself by saying she wanted to understand the full tilt of the political climate of Tivik-4. The conflicts, the main issues, the duration of the reigning regime of the time, the build-up.

There were a few times she felt prepared, but on those nights she found herself with an unexpected guest. Not Khravel, however.

Ghensil had called on her a couple times in the last few days, mostly healed from his physical injuries. The wounds on his psyche, however, were still gaping and tender. Luckily, he had a therapist already working with him – as most Delegates did – so he already  had support on the mental health front.

Not that Taliyra disliked his presence. At least someone came to visit her while she was on the mend. Thoughts of Ghensil warmed her chest, a fond smile curling at her lips as she recalled the latest visit. He seemed to have something on his mind, fidgeting and stammering while they watched a show together. Eventually, he calmed down and the two simply curled up on the couch, side-by-side, before falling asleep.

She was jolted from her reverie as a chime cut through the air, taking her a moment to realize it was the room's doorbell equivalent. It rang once more before whoever was on the other side entered. Taliyra had made the mistake of not locking it, perhaps half-expecting Ghensil to make an appearance.

Instead, her breath froze in her lungs as Khravel strode through the door. Though he was the white-red Tivikonian she had first met, dressed impeccably in a dark bodysuit and jacket, and not the skull-faced Scorn, she still felt a squeeze at her chest as her heart tripped up.

Khravel paused inside to remove his boots. “Expecting Delegate Yigo?”

He said it so casually with just a hint of disapproval, it made a rankled frown instantly slip over her lips.

Taliyra straightened on the couch, turning further to stare at him. Uncertainty pinged through her thoughts as she realized he was removing his shoes by her front door. Khravel had never removed his shoes before. What did that mean? Did it have to mean something? Her thoughts were a frazzled mess, despite how she cooly replied, “Not really, though he's come around a couple times recently.”

“He wastes no time,” Khravel snorted, derision peppering his words. He couldn’t blame Yigo for attaching to Taliyra, part of him knew this. She was a lovely person, sharp and direct. With Yigo, she was even sweet, something she was decidedly not in Khravel’s presence. He had given up wondering why. It was probably a defense mechanism on her part, since he was far more dangerous than his colleague. Even without knowing the full brunt of his history, Taliyra must have sensed it.

Narrowing her eyes, she wondered what he had against Ghensil this time. “What’s that mean?”

With his boots off, Khravel took one step into Taliyra’s apartment before folding his arms behind his back. “Earlier this week, we had a personal meeting. He requested we share you.”

“What?” She couldn’t find any further words as she blinked up at him. Realization drilled into her head a few seconds before Khravel answered.

“Considering that wasn’t in my purview, I told him only you could make that decision,” he said simply, holding the tangle of feelings in his chest at arm’s length.

“How honorable of you,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. Of course, Khravel was open to Ghensil doing the ‘dirty’ work he didn’t want to stomach. If it ended in a new Tivikonian life, it didn’t really matter who was the father. Of course, they should run it by ProxyPanion, but fulfilling the contract was their favored choice. They also didn’t care who were the progenitors.

“Hardly,” he shot back, holding Taliyra’s gaze as it snapped to his face. Tilting his head, he leered down at her, eyes razing along what parts of her weren’t blocked by the couch. “I’m here to give you what you’ve been hounding me for.”

Realization struck instantly and, like a cat scrambling to get out of water, heat slashed over Taliyra’s cheeks and crawled up her body. She sat straighter, recognizing the heat suffusing Khravel’s gaze. A jumble of feelings clattered through her, remembering he might not be who she knew. Who she thought she knew, she amended to herself.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

They weren’t Tivikonians, Taliyra realized. The people around her were a mix of Terrans and other extraterrestrials. A small Copipastarian – a race capable of making duplicates of themselves – raced about underfoot, their duplicates spaced about aiding others. Most of the other aliens appeared plant-based, but she was unfamiliar with their people. The rest present were Terran, but whether they were Earth-born, colony-born, or something else was yet to be seen.

With so many people, the atmosphere was energized, determined, and pointed.

Eventually Taliyra spotted Ghensil a few yards away with his side to her as he hunched over himself. With a lurch of her stomach, she realized he was bleeding and the coppery scent suddenly filled her nose. His four arms were latched in heavy tech manacles behind his back, his goldenrod overshirt stripped away to the bodysuit he wore underneath. Red stained the white fabric in so many places, it was nearly pink.

A masked figure stood over him, dressed in black. From their body stature, Taliyra thought they were human, but it was hard to tell without identifying features visible. The masked person crouched down, grabbing Ghensil by his horns and tilting his head painfully back. It was only then that Taliyra realized they had a camera on a tripod set up. The figure wasn’t just tormenting Ghensil but they were recording it or streaming it.

Which meant whatever this situation was, whatever this organization stood for, was political on some level.

“This is what happens when you support this disgusting business,” the figure-in-black spat as he gave Ghensil’s head another shake. They turned their masked face toward the Tivikonian. “I’ll ask you one more time. As a Tivikonian delegate, are you going to repudiate ProxyPanion and all Companion services?”

Ghensil shook his head, a sneer twisting at his lips. With his head angled the way it was, Taliyra spotted yet another restraint. A collar clasped around his throat, a dangling chain latched to the floor.

“All of you good folk at home heard that. Delegate Yivo is too entrenched in the corruption, the sale of sentient beings.” The figure tsked and stood abruptly, bringing a rod across Ghensil’s back. Electricity coiled from the metal, spidering out along the pale yellow Tivikonian. He cried out again, jerking up to his knees while tremors tore along his body. The chain pulled taut against his convulsions, nearly toppling the Tivikonian forward.

Someone above Taliyra’s head made a disgusted sound. Glancing up, she was surprised to find Laryse seated on the container she leaned against, kitted out in a black bodysuit and boots not unlike the electro-rod wielding attacker. Her lips were twisted in disgust, her eyes hooded and unmoved by what Ghensil was suffering through.

Taliyra’s throat burned as she forced her words out, “What’s going on, Laryse?”

“Oh, you’re awake.” The other Companion tilted her gaze toward Taliyra, her expression unchanged. A furrow slowly formed between Laryse’s eyebrows, though she remained in her seated place above Taliyra. “I don’t understand you, y’know. You were always complaining about Khravel giving you the bare minimum, but that sounded like a dream. Not having to do anything and still be paid the rate of a ProxyPanion?”

“I wanted to fulfill the contract,” Taliyra responded, her own expression mimicking Laryse’s confusion. Of all people, she didn’t expect Laryse to be unhappy with her own set-up. Ghensil and she seemed to be so enamored with each other.

“So you were an eager incubator for their failing race.” A derisive snort left Laryse, so at odds with the candy-sweet persona she played when on Ghensil’s arm. Taliyra wondered if she was hallucinating, but the other woman continued forward, “Everything they suffered through that caused their low population numbers is the universe’s way of telling them they’re no longer wanted or needed! They should give up their resources and die off with dignity.”

Dizziness clamped hard to Taliyra’s mind, making it hard to think. She couldn’t tell if it was the shock of everything making her head feel light or a side-effect of the gas their kidnappers had used.

There had always been opposition to companions, of all sorts and in all eras. In Earth’s past, and in the pasts and presents mirrored among many other planets, the job was often entwined with coercion and trafficking. Detractors had a hard time believing anyone would willingly and happily enter the trade. But wasn’t that what every other job requested of a person? Their body and time to do work others didn’t care to do or didn’t want to do in exchange for money or goods.

For the current run of Companions, there was an added argument. If a species could not maintain their own numbers themselves, what right did they have to co-opt another species into their reproductive woes? In more ancient Terran terms, it was in “god’s plan” they suffered and died off, so they should do just that.

It was a flawed thought process, when Terrans – and other beings – bypassed natural processes through science and had done such sidestepping for hundreds of years.

However, if a species died off, that meant their planet and their resources were up for grabs. Those with failing governments and dying planets would, inevitably, be against anything that would save a floundering population.

Taliyra knew all this, but she couldn’t get her synapses to connect and effectively reply to Laryse. When she opened her mouth to spit even a nonsensical reply back at the other woman, a crackling sound of electricity flashed through the air again, followed by the pained snarl of Ghensil.

Instead of laying a verbal smackdown, Taliyra jerked toward the Tivikonian. “Ghensil!”

Loudly, Laryse sucked at her teeth, clicking her tongue. “So eager for any Tivik dick, huh?”

“You can’t really believe this is right,” Taliyra turned a glare back on the other woman, trying to seek out some indication that Laryse felt conflicted.

The other woman gave a lazy one-shouldered shrug in response, but as she opened her mouth, chaos interrupted.

The metal crunched against metal, the whum of gravity wheels filling the building not just from one side but three, surrounding the area. Taliyra got a peek of a dark colored, heavily-armored grav-vehicle before everyone else started to move, to run, to fight. Even Laryse darted off into the fray, pulling a weapon from her pocket. A litany of shouts and screams echoed off the walls. Other voices, more organized, barked out orders as laser pistols pinged through the air.

The crash of vehicles nearly drowned out the crackle of glass overhead, Taliyra instinctively hunched protectively as shards clattered around her. Something landed heavily on a tower of crates, followed by other hefty forms following suit and the hiss of rappelling lines.

When Taliyra dared to look up, attention sliding to where the first interloper thumped down onto a crate, a new cacophony filled her head. This one was only a chaos she could feel.

Khravel stood there, a scowl carved over his bone-white features. There was something different about him, though, and it took Taliyra a breath to realize his red coloration seemed to have grown. The red bled across the white until the markings on his face almost looked more like a bloody skull. At the far edges of the red, it had darkened to near black, similar to the color of his armored, full-body suit. He scanned the area, the people, side-stepping laser shots and projectiles that managed to arc high enough to strike him.

It took less than a blink and, whatever he had seen, he had chosen his course of action. Taliyra’s heart shuddered as he jumped off the containers and she barely choked down a cry, instinctively knowing a height like that could hurt a human.

He snatched one of the rappel ropes, changing his trajectory with a swing, somehow managing to miss any lasers shot his way.  With a heavy thump, he landed in a knot of opponents surrounding Ghensil, towering over them all as he raised to full height. Stunned, the delayed reaction cost the crowd of enemies. One laser shot from Khravel took out the largest of the potential opponents, sending the plant-alien flying back into a tower of crates, a bleeding burn mark searing their chest.

Hearing the sizzle of the laser shot was all it took to kick the others into motion. Many of them backed away, fumbling for their own pistols, while one Terran threw themselves at the Tivikonian. Khravel caught the flailing attacker by their arm, the Terran’s eyes flying wide and their ruddy face paling. Lip lifting in a sneer, Khravel swung them around in a swift movement that took out three others who had just raised their pistols. The tangled group clattered to the floor, groaning or trying to scramble back to their feet.

Khravel’s two right hands shot out, black-gloved fingers digging into a fishnet-like material draped over a pile of creates. He gave it a careless tug and stepped back. Taliyra watched in awe and horror as the whole tower came tumbling down, right on top of the enemies.

Her expression was mirrored within the throng of enemies as shouts bloomed up. They fumbled to flee, but – in their tangled mess of limbs and lack of organization – none of them got very fall. Khravel turned to Ghensil as his screaming opponents were lost in a sea of large metal containers. “Keys?”

Ghensil shook his head, his voice raspy as he answered, “Not sure. I was knocked out when they slapped these on.”

“Get up.” While Khravel hadn’t really barked out the words, the tone brooked no room for disagreement.

“Can’t,” Ghensil said as he lifted his face to look at Khravel. The chain connecting his collar to the floor jangled and pulled taut as he managed to sit straight.

Khravel barely eyed the chain before he dropped down to a knee and sliced it with a laser knife that ejected from the underside of his glove. When he moved to stand, he hauled Ghensil to his feet by the back of the collar. The other Tivikonian sputtered, before he managed to get his feet under him.  

“Find somewhere to hunker down and guard Taliyra.” This time, Khravel’s words were edge with sharp irritation, as if it were his colleague’s fault for not being able to get to his own feet.

Once Ghensil gave a nod of acknowledgement, Khravel turned on his heel, the laser blade still drawn as he eyed the warehouse. Before Taliyra could say a word, he bounded off, a wave of worried shouts rising in his wake.

She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or relieved Khravel hadn’t turned his leering red gaze on her as Ghensil lumbered over to her. It was then that Taliyra realized she was on her knees and no longer sitting. Not sure when that happened, she clambered to her feet.

“C’mon, before Khravel stabs me for not moving you.” Ghensil nudged her with his still bound lower arms, offering her a little smile as he nodded toward a row of containers.

The two darted toward the corner, the area oddly quieter despite the battles happening a few yards away. Despite the relatively calmer setting, Taliyra’s heart still pounded as she and Ghensil crept behind the boxes, toward the corner. A small walkway – barely enough for her Tivikonian companion could squeeze into – formed between the creates and the wall, somewhat shadowed thanks to higher creates being off-center from the stack and blocking the light above.

With the barrier of the containers, the sounds from the fight grew even more muffled. Ghensil nudged Taliyra until they were close to the corner before he peered around the crates. They were positioned in such a way, they had two escape routes: the way they came and around the other side of the boxes.

Very slightly, the yellow Tivikonian relaxed. Taliyra couldn’t help but notice that his breaths were shallow, and she wondered if something hurt if he breathed too deeply. This close, with Ghensil towering over her, the smell of his blood did her lightheadedness no favors.

“He wouldn’t actually stab you. Would he?” The question popped out of her mouth before she realized it. Even in the shadows, she caught Ghensil wince. Well, that answered her question. With her own experience with Khravel, she couldn’t imagine him truly following through with such a gruesome threat. It seemed at odds with the straitlaced image he beheld. “Was he in the military or something?”

At that, the injured Tivikonian laughed, but when Taliyra shot him a perturbed look, he stopped.

“Delegate Iedro is a particularly special representative of the people,” he said carefully, watching Taliyra’s face as if quietly hoping she already knew what he had to say. When realization didn’t dawn across her face, he nervously licked his lips and looked away, mentally weighing something. Whatever he was debating eventually came to a close as he mumbled, “He, uh, was a leading crime boss for a while.”

Taliyra’s eyes flew wide, a flush of confused heat rushing down her body. “A what now?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Then again, time was hard to gauge with the fuzzy fog in her head and the aches in her body. She let herself be ushered from the emergency vehicle into the hospital while a media frenzy was held back. Lights flashed, questions were shouted, images blurred at the edges of her vision.

Inside the hospital, the sounds felt muffled. Taliyra was handed off from nurse to nurse, her vitals checked and – she thought – questions asked. She couldn’t really recall after a few minutes. Soon enough, she was in an examination room seeing a doctor.

The doctor Taliyra was assigned was of multi-ancestry, with the Tivikonian quad-arms and quad-eyes, but hair of a light blue gaseous form and equally blue scales spattering their body. She couldn’t begin to pinpoint where the non-Tivikonian traits came from. Perhaps one or both of their parent were biracial, to begin with.

Regardless, Dr. Ankrois was of a slighter build than Taliyra had seen with Tivikonians, displaying a light lilac color that deepened to blue at their fingertips. She wasn’t sure about their other limbs, but imagined it was much the same as far as coloration.

Focusing on the doctor, she let her mind traipse along thoughts of Tivikonian medical study. It was easier to focus on than everything else that had transpired, from the kidnaping to watching Ghensil be tortured to Khravel’s infiltration.

The thought of the white-red Tivikonian made the throb in her brain worsen. She tried to excuse his violent heroics with the fact his colleague had been kidnapped, as well. Ghensil Yigo was one of Khravel’s tenuous allies. However, he had threatened to shoot the other man himself.

Which meant Khravel had other reasons for going so far. It couldn’t have just been for her. He could barely look at her and the preceding weeks, he had been cold and standoffish.

Likely, he was worried about any more blemishes on the ProxyPanion contract. If Tivikonians could not keep Companions safe, should ProxyPanion be doing business with them?

Taliyra didn’t believe the company would pull the agreement. After all, anti-Companion sentiments were always a threat and it wasn’t as if Khravel had handed them over. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Laryse – someone who was supposed to be vetted by ProxyPanion – the whole ordeal might not have happened.

During a lull in the examination, an electric sensation shot through Taliyra. Her spine straightened, her gaze flicking toward the door without much reason, until she heard one of the orderlies outside cry out softly, “Delegate Iedro, you can’t go in there. They’re examining Ms. Deyva right now and–“

Just hearing his name made prickling sensations race down her back.

A startled yelp interrupted the orderly’s words before the footfalls continued. Taliyra could only imagine what Khravel had done to silence the poor worker and, annoyingly, the heat at her center returned. Having him go above and beyond to get to her out of danger was pleasing, in spite of how he’d distanced himself from her. His mixed signals and her body’s reaction were both frustrating.

Heavy footfalls thudded right outside her exam room and the doors hissed open. Taliyra’s stomach lurched at the sight of Khravel as he stepped into her exam room, but it wasn’t simply from nerves. A metallic tang filled the air as he stomped in, his boots squeaking against the tiled floor. While not entirely covered in blood, the Tivikonian was dripping gore all over the place.

At the threshold, Khravel paused. Like a magnetic pull, his eyes found Taliyra almost as soon as the door opened. She sat on an examination bed, dressed in a hospital gown, her eyes on him. Darkness hung beneath her eyes and her skin had a sickly coloration, akin to many others who had to live through and process a traumatic experience.

For the most part, she seemed whole and unharmed. The anti-Companion contingency was lucky on that front. Had she been the one beaten and tortured on a livestream, many more would have found themselves mutilated at Khravel’s own hand.

“Delegate, what brings you to my examination room?” The doctor didn’t even bother looking up from their tablet, in the process of double-checking Taliyra’s vitals and ordering lab work.

Khravel shook himself from his semi-stupor and crossed the exam room to the doctor’s side, holding up a rectangular piece of plastic. Blood dripped down his arms, splattering underfoot. “I have the keycard to her restraints.”

Dr. Ankrois swiveled on their chair to face the delegate, gaze latching onto the keycard before traveling up to Khravel’s face. If the doctor was disgusted, surprised, or off-put, it didn’t register in their expression. They merely inclined their head to the Delegate, vague amusement in their voice, “Very appreciated, I’m sure, but we have a master keycard that bypasses all makes and models.”

At that revelation, Khravel’s gaze flicked back to Taliyra. How could he have missed that?

It was like electric punched through her, heat crawling up her spine. It seemed universal that medical gowns were unflattering and she could feel his gaze drop over her body. As if to affirm the doctor’s veracity, she raised a hand in a bashful wave, showing the manacles were indeed gone. She didn’t even remember when they were removed, if she was being honest. Everything had been a blur and disjointed, now that she thought about it.

“Why are you so bloody?” Dr. Ankrois got to their feet as they sighed, as if they already knew the answer but still posed the question to make their exasperation clear.

Khravel’s red gaze shifted to the doctor, his tone flat. “They swallowed it. I retrieved it.”

How such a straightforward answer made goosebumps crawl over Taliyra, she could not know. Her eyes dropped along his body, now understanding why he was splashed with viscera but not exactly covered. Most of the blood seemed to coat his arms, which made sense if he had disemboweled someone and rooted around in their guts. At that very thought, her stomach swayed queasily.

Not for the first time since the revelation, the statement Khravel Iedro was a crime boss echoed through her head.

Carefully stepping around the gore pooling on the floor, Dr. Ankrois headed toward the counter across from Taliyra. The doctor pulled a cabinet open before tossing a light blue towel at Khravel. “I assume your opponent is in emergency surgery, then?”

Khravel sucked at his teeth, looking away from the doctor again as he caught the towel. He idly wiped at his arms as he muttered, “Against my better judgement, yes.”

Dr. Ankrois clucked their chidingly clucked their tongue. “How many cases have you added to my workload today, Iedro?”

“As many as it took to retrieve Delegate Yigo and Ms. Deyva,” Khravel returned, nearly biting the words out, before flinging the used towel at the doctor. The blood was hardly gone, mostly smeared. But only a shower would truly clean the gore off him.

Dr. Ankrois deftly caught the towel, swinging it into a bag to be collected for later.

All the while, Taliyra quietly watched the exchange.

The good doctor seemed oddly at ease around Khravel. No tension in their shoulders, no hesitancy to speak to him. Taliyra’s attention shifted from one to the other, her eyes narrowing. Dr. Ankrois had been very personable and warm, right until Khravel entered. But the vibe between the two wasn’t exactly hostile or entirely friendly.

Were they familiar with each other? Again, Khravel’s past collided with her understanding of underground organizations. Didn’t such groups have needs for doctor’s who knew how to keep their mouth shut?

“You two seem to know each other very well,” she commented, crossing her legs under the gown and leaning back on her hands.

Two sets of Tivikonian gazes latched onto her, as if suddenly remembering she were present, before glancing to one another again. Taliyra could see the silent conversation playing out between them. It was almost painted across their faces. Though whether or not the two understood one another fully, she’d have to wait and see.

Whatever wordlessly transpired between Khravel and the doctor, the latter sighed and shrugged. “We have history.”

Taliyra cocked an eyebrow, going all in on her presumption. “Criminal history?”

In her periphery, she watched as Khravel’s at-ease slouch snapped into a straight-spine stance, his eyes flashing to her. The energy coming off him wasn’t angry but it certainly piercing. It was sinking straight to her center in a most frustrating way.

Who had fucking told her, was all that was on Khravel’s mind. Blood steamed hotly in his veins as he went through a mental roster of who would be ballsy enough to inform her. Or who would lack the survival skills to keep their mouth shut?

One name flashed through his head and his lips pressed thin. Ghensil Yigo. Spineless little whelp that he was. Although that was being unkind, in a way. As a fellow Delegate, Yigo was easier to stomach than others and he often agreed with him.

Suspicion nagged at the back of Khravel’s mind, wondering if his colleague had let the secret slip intentionally. Taliyra had been spending a lot of time with Yigo and Laryse.

Assuming Khravel had told her about his past, Dr. Ankrois gave a slow nod, crossing their upper arms as they leaned back against the counter. “Yes, I was a doctor for the Enigma Syndicate for a time, I am sure Delegate Iedro has–“

“Get out,” Khravel snapped, startling the doctor into looking at him. The mention of his name had snapped him out of his wondering reveries. Right now, he needed to talk to Taliyra alone and suss out what she knew.

“I’m not done examining her yet.” Dr. Ankrois’s gaze bounced from Khravel to Taliyra, confusion marring their brow.

“She’s fine, get out,” spat Khravel, his attention sliding to Taliyra. She met his gaze without a flinch, which was good. She wasn’t scared of him, at least. But part of him wondered if that really was a good thing. Maybe she was just numb from her experiences.

Despite the thrum in her chest, she leered at Khravel head-on. She wasn’t about to be intimidated into silence and her curiosity ate away at her very bones. She wanted answers! How could he keep this big of a secret from her? Stars, how had he managed to keep it secret from ProxyPanion? Or had he bribed or threatened the higher ups? Her stomach lurched at that thought, but she still didn’t let her gaze tarry from his.

The doctor wheeled their eyes back to the still skull-faced Tivikonian. “Khravel, I really need to–“

“Out, Vis’seo.” One of Khravel’s fingers jabbed at the exit, his eyes no longer tilted toward the other Tivikonian.

Dr. Vis’seo Ankrois shot an uncertain look to Taliyra. She must have looked nonplussed – or perhaps the doctor didn’t care in the face of Khravel’s potential anger – because they gave a nod, muttering something about being in the hall, before exiting.

The energy in the room had changed, she noticed. Heavy and prickling. She caught one of Khravel’s hands flexing, before he turned away from her. His lower hands propped on his hips, his upper crossing over his chest, before he spoke, “Who told you?”

Taliyra regarded him with narrowed eyes, recalling how he had threatened Ghensil earlier. “Does that matter?”

“Who do I need to kill, Taliyra?” Khravel took a step toward her, the snarl still lingering in the air as his shoulders hunched, arms crooked as if to grapple the very target he spoke about.

Regretfully, she seemed unmoved by his display, which only stoked the mingling of annoyance and heat at his core.  

She eyed him critically, trying to mute the way her lower tummy coiled delightedly at his reaction. Instead, she smiled at him and bounced her crossed leg up and down on her knee, expelling excited energy. “Answer my questions first.”

His gaze shifted to where her leg moved, the edge of her gown jostling up and down, before her words registered.

“You and your fucking questions.” The words were a dark rumble in his chest as he shook his head, the tension visibly melting from his posture as he straightened his spine. The Terran woman was still unfazed by his growl, so he simply sighed, unable to fight her. It was better she found out from him and elsewhere. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

A million different questions piled up in Taliyra’s mind. She hummed as she sorted through the array, deciding what was necessary and what could wait. It didn’t take her long to go broad, testing how he would answer, “What sort of crimes did you commit?”

“Everything,” he answered obliquely. He waved a hand and rolled his eyes, as if it was a silly question. “Next question.”

Taliyra didn’t feel the least bit shamed, but her lips pressed thin at his almost dismissive answer. Fine, if he wanted her to get specific, she’d get specific. “Arson?”

“Yes,” he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest when Taliyra remained silent for a beat, obviously waiting for elaboration.

She barely refrained from scoffing. Of course, he wasn’t going to give her any further information. Just the bare minimum. “Bombing?”

“Yes.” Again, no elaboration.

“Robbery?”

“Yes.”

“Kidnapping?”

“Yes.”

“Murder?”

“Yes.” He heaved a sigh, closing the distance him and where she sat. All four of his hands gripped at the edges of the bed as he leaned over Taliyra, red eyes boring down into her. “If there is a law against it, presume I did it.”

Oh, she highly doubted that. There was a nagging little thought at the back of her mind, one she couldn’t quite put into words. She also couldn’t ignore how her body thrummed with his nearness, her skin prickling. This close, she could see the edges of the white-to-red coloration, the colors slightly shifting as if they were living ink on his face. The air between them warmed and, for a breath, she could forget that they’d both been in rather dire circumstances earlier. But forgetting herself and giving in to temptation wasn’t going to give her answers.

Making a pointed glance to his arms boxing her in, Taliyra asked, “Sexual assault?”

The energy between them stumbled. Tension weaved its way through his muscles as Khravel followed where she glanced to, realizing he was hovering over her. He did not move away, though. He realized a subconscious part of him had been relishing in the nearness, her scent heady and sweet despite the tribulations of the day. “No, no sexual assault.”

In her head, she heard a clang, as if she had been digging and finally hit something with the potential to be valuable. She focused back in on his face, which still held the skull-like features. “Crimes against children?”

“No,” he spat, genuinely sounding offended as he reared back a little.

She prodded further, “Trafficking?”

Khravel tilted his head one way then the other with his answer. “Workhouses, yes. Sexual, no.”

Taliyra narrowed her eyes, searching Khravel’s face for any hint of deceit. If there was any sign of him lying, she couldn’t spot it. “Why?”

“Why what?” When this conversation started, he had half-expected Taliyra to slap him, push him away, back away from him. That’s what any sensible person would do if they found out their Companion assignment had a dark past, a dark past that he did not regret. For the most part.

But the Terran in front of him didn’t cringe away. She glared up into his face, apparently annoyed with his lack of comprehension.

Taliyra pushed herself into a sitting position, consequently putting her face closer to his. At the back of her mind, she caught Khravel’s sharp intake of breath, but her mind was already dogging down a different trail. Her hands motioned through the air, emphasizing her words, “You drew the line at sexual crimes and harming kids but committed pretty much everything else! Why?”

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Taliyra watched Khravel carefully as he stared down at her, his lips a tight thin line on his face. He seemed to be debating on continuing. Her only thought was to coax him onward and, without much consideration, her lips parted under his thumbpad. Four red eyes focused on her mouth. His fingers at her cunt twitched as her heated breath played over his digit, her tongue grazing against him.

Slowly, he pressed his thumb into her mouth, the sensation of wet heat searing up his arm. Taliyra’s hands grappled hard onto his wrist, as if he would pull away, as her eyes fluttered shut. She hummed gently, sucking his thumb deeper into her mouth. The taste of his skin tingled on her tongue, indescribable but certainly something. The absolutely faintest sense of salty.

As he watched his thumb disappear into Taliyra’s eager mouth, his middle finger dipped between her folds. Like his thumb, his middle finger sunk into another source of wet heat. Excitement pulsed through him, his cock twitching as her inner muscles flexed around him. It wasn’t hard to imagine what she’d feel like wrapped around him. He’d already had his cockhead wedged into her, feeling her muscles flutter.

Between her mouth and pussy, most of Khravel’s logical thought unraveled.

His middle finger sunk deeper, eliciting a soft moan from her as her hips experimentally rolled. His hands at her hips tightened, keeping her still. To that, Taliyra made an upset sound, her lips closing right around his thumb. Khravel’s hand flexed gently at her throat when she sucked, her pulse jumping under his grasp and her core muscles pulsing. Before his finger could completely embed itself, he pulled back. Cold air bit at his sopping wet digit as Taliyra whimpered, but he thrust back in, cutting her whine short.

Khravel steadily fingered her, landing deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hand until every knuckle of his finger was intimately acquainted with her cunt. He was pleased to find Taliyra’s body eagerly accepted him. Well, at least his finger.

Without warning, a second finger plunged in with the first and she keened, her back arching. Her abdominal muscles flexed, the delicious stretch and depth of both digits giving her something she’d long been craving. Enraptured, he watched as her eyes cracked open, her lips parting around his thumb as she whimpered. Fire razed down his spine at that small, singular sound.

Taliyra was finding it hard to really think. She was lost in the sensations, his handling of her. Her heart thrummed in her chest, excited to be getting somewhere and delighted in the attention. She craved more. More heat, more of him. Khravel was already stooped around her, one large hand holding her throat, two on her hips, fingers inside her. But she still wanted more. She tried to roll against his fingers, but his grip at her hips was strong as ever, drawing another frustrated sound from her throat. Aching pressure pulsed at her center, needinga release.

Driven by her sounds, her slightest movements, Khravel found his hand thrusting faster, deeper, harder. His thumb drew from her mouth as he focused on her. His hips jerked lightly against the table’s edge every time her inner walls flexed around him. As if his fingers could transmit the delicious feeling of her cunt right to his aching member.

Realizing he was humping the table, one of Taliyra’s hands slipped down. Her fingers teased over his bulge, her breath catching to feel the amount of heat emanating there. It made her clench around his fingers.

Khravel’s whole body jerked as her touch registered, a sharp inhale razing his throat. He found her gaze angled toward his groin as her palm ground against his cockhead through the fabric of his suit. Everything tightened below his belt, muscles lurching eagerly at the touch, at her gaze. He found it hard to breathe.

“Look at me,” he growled, squeezing at her throat a little harsher than before. Taliyra gasped, eyes wheeling up to his face, though her hand didn’t draw away. Lust glazed over her eyes, made her cheeks dark with a flush. It was a delicious sight. So delicious, he couldn’t stop himself.

Khravel swept downward, catching his lips against Taliyra’s mouth. His tongue cleaved into her mouth, Taliyra’s sighing moan breathing over him before her own tongue tangled with his. Her hand at his cock wedged between him and the table, giving him a delightfully softer – warmer – thing to hump against as she ground her palm down, stroked him with her fingers. Her other hand grabbed at his shirt, fisting the fabric and pulling him closer as his fingers continued to wildly work through her, his hands at her hips dragging her forward and backward.

The tremble flickered through her thighs first, then her back arched, and finally – fully against his mouth – she moaned. Heat crashed over her as her orgasm struck. Her muscles clenched tight at his fingers, until he could no longer move them. Khravel grunted, feeling her cunt pulse around his digits, trying to milk a release from him. Against her hand, Taliyra could feel his cock throb in time to her own pulse, her own body’s clenching rhythm. Still against his mouth, she gasped softly as her orgasm faded with each wave.

Cracking her eyes open, she found Khravel’s gaze on her, watching her. Still as hungry as ever. She whimpered as he drew his fingers from her, hands leaving her throat and hips. She felt suddenly bereft, but eagerness lit through the afterglow fog when she spotted his hands going to the fasteners of his clothes. Her tongue wet her lips as she waited for Khravel to undress, her feet finding the edge of the table as her knees angled wider.

A growl wound its way through Khravel’s chest as he watched Taliyra reach down between her thighs, part her lower lips. Wet and pink and slick and warm. His cock jumped at the sight of her as his gaze drew upward, over her heaving breasts and flushed cheeks. He wanted to be embedded deep inside her, feel her heart pound and the vibration of her breaths through his cock. The air in the supply closet was hot and humid with their actions, scented with something inexorably Taliyra.

Stars, this amount of need was overwhelming. It nearly dizzied him. He knew Tivikonians were damaged from decades of plague and illness, but did other species feel this need as strongly? He was eager with Avry, but he couldn’t say he felt this level of heat, this buzzing in his veins.

The thought of Avry made Khravel pause. He blinked down at Taliyra, leering up at him as if she were about to devour him. His member jerked again, his muscles clenching.

He couldn’t do this, he realized. He was too riled up. There was nothing more than he wanted than to sheath his cock entirely in this little Terran, fill her to the brim and more. Make her tremble and come apart with orgasm after orgasm. Those desires risked hurting her.

He couldn’t.

Not again.

His hands fell away from his fasteners as he adjusted his erection in his pants, clearing his throat. “I hope that satisfies you, Miss Deyva.”

Disappointment caved in Taliyra’s expression and, unable to take that look, Khravel turned sharply away. His feet propelled him through the supply room, unable to look at his Companion.

“Wait, what?” Taliyra barely managed to say those words before he retreated. Scrambling off the table – which was too high, thanks to Tivikonian height – she landed sloppily on her bare feet. For a brief second, she thought her legs would give out, knees weak from the orgasm. Thankfully, she didn’t fall and she managed to locate her shoes, fumbling them on as she scrambled after Khravel. “Get back here!”

By the time Taliyra got to the hall, she couldn’t locate him. She spun around on her heel, glaring down both ends of the hall, but nothing stood out to her. Which didn’t matter. She knew where his office was. Frustration fueled her movements as she charged down the halls, back toward the office wing.

When she did finally make it to Khravel’s door, she waved her hand over the pad by the door. It gave an angry, negatory buzz.

Mx. E’verra suddenly appeared at her elbow, offering her a wince of a smile. “Sorry, Miss Deyva. Delegate Iedro gave explicit instructions no one may enter for the rest of the workday.”

“Of course he did.” Taliyra glared at the door, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her mind was a whorl of agitation and confusion. Why had he pulled away when he did? What was the fucking matter with him?

When she realized Mx. E’verra lingered, she took a slow deep breath. Clasping her hands in front of her, she turned to face the Tivikonian, smiling tightly. There was a brief struggle in her thoughts, before she finally settled on what to say to E’verra. “When Delegate Iedro shows his face, let him know I expect him this evening at my quarters.”

Before Khravel’s assistant could say anything further, Taliyra made for the exit at a steady clip. Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked, punctuating the plans laid out in her head. After their little supply closet foray, she was left on a confusing precipice.

If he was totally disinterested in her, would he have fingered her as he had? Or was he just spurred on by Yivo and Laryse? The hunger in his eyes seemed genuine, but something – some thought – had caused him to pause, to retreat.

Something was wrong and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Even if Khravel fought her the whole way.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Suddenly, the weight of the room was on Khravel’s shoulders. Delegate Yivo, Laryse, and Taliyra were all looking at him, the only one who had yet to give permission for a show. Unable to argue, Khravel tried to force the tension in his shoulders to ease. With a motion of his hand, he attempted to smile. “Far be it for me to stop you two. I commend you both for your duties to Tivik’s populace.”

Delegate Yivo beckoned for Laryse to come closer once more, to which the human woman did obey. She stood slowly and made her way down the table to the yellow Tivikonian, her nipples already taut beneath the gauzy fabric of her dress.

Khravel’s mouth went dry, realizing his colleague was intending to give him a rather close-up view of their copulation. Gathering up his tablet, he mumbled something about giving them space before rising and retreating down the table. He doubted Yivo heard him. The man had his eyes intent on his Companion, color rising in his own yellow cheeks. Without another thought, Khravel padded the way Laryse came, consequently placing him closer to Taliyra, with her dark eyes that continued to sear through him.

Taliyra straightened in her chair when Khravel neared her, though her shoulders eased as he sat with a  chair between them. Of course. He didn’t want to get too close to her. Huffing out a breath, she leaned her elbow on the table, cradling her chin in her hand as she watched Yivo and Laryse.

The two were undoubtedly attracted to one another. He caressed her cheek when she neared his sitting position and they exchanged some playful words. Laryse’s teeth sunk into her bottom lip as one of Yivo’s four hands trailed down her side. Another hand bunched her dress up, a third raising to confidently stroke along the woman’s slit. Her gasp was tinged with a whimper as she broadened her stance, his fourth hand coming up to rest on the small of her back, bracing her upright. Laryse clasped onto two of his of his arms as Yivo’s hand moved, deftly dipping a digit into her folds, into her.

The intimacy of the moment put Taliyra in the crosshairs of delight of watching them; frustration at her own lackluster couplings with Khravel; and yearning for what they had. But it seemed Laryse had hit the jackpot. Delegate Yivo seemed to truly cherish her, beyond what her uterus could provide. A cold dagger of disappointment wedged into Taliyra’s chest at the thought. Despite herself, her eyes flicked over to Khravel.

She expected to see him intently watching the two, completely ignoring her. Or perhaps glaring at the proceedings, upset with his lacking partner.

Taliyra did not expect to catch the Tivikonian’s red eyes turned toward her. He leered at her, hotly. The heat in his gaze was too similar to his expression during their nightly visits. Though she felt he was also annoyed with her. Regardless, she found her heart thrumming a little faster under his gaze.

Heat spiked through the room, heavy and prickling, as Laryse’s sounds slowly became louder. The wisp of fabric being discarded, Yivo’s own soft groans of satisfaction, burned through the air. It only fed the imaginings playing in Khravel’s mind, twisting everything to feature himself and Taliyra. Peeling the dress suit off the human woman’s body, layer by layer. Running his hands over her breasts, palm grinding over her nipples to elicit a cry that was echoed by Laryse in the room. His cock stirred, fabric becoming taut against his groin.

A sudden warmth pressed to his thigh and his whole body jerked to attention. His far-flung thoughts focused on the hand, followed it up a clothed arm to Taliyra’s face. There had been a chair between them. When had she moved? Or had he been the one to shift closer? Khravel swallowed, momentarily afraid of the answer.

Focusing on Taliyra’s face, he found a flush darkening her cheeks, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Do yo–“

The barely formed words snapped through him as he bolted to his feet. Picking up his tablet, holding it like a shield  in front of him, he pushed away from the table and headed for the exit. “If you’ll excuse me, I just remembered there’s something I need to attend to.”

Feelings of rejection slammed into Taliyra, watching Khravel retreat from the conference room. The following wave of self-righteous indignation crashed into her, soon after. It propelled her to her feet as she followed in her counterpart’s footsteps. She made some half-hearted excuse to Laryse and Delegate Yivo, though part of her doubted either would notice the lack of an audience.

As Taliyra exited the conference, she heard Laryse make a sound of worry and Yivo chuckle in her wake. “Don’t worry. Iedro has always been on the shy side.”

She didn’t get to wonder about his words for long. Already, she was storming down the hall, eyes wheeling around until she found the departing form of Khravel. Feeling foolish, she pursued him. She didn’t yell, didn’t call out, didn’t run. Merely sped-walked after the infuriating man as fire swelled in her chest.

What was he doing? Did he despise her so much, her barely-formed offer had disgusted him? Rejection stabbed through her again and she frowned. This was not going to work if he couldn’t stomach bedding her, beyond the lackluster way he’d done so far.

She watched as he darted into a room, apparently unaware of her tailing him.

As Taliyra burst in after him, she found the area to be something of a supply closet. The acrid scent of cleaning fluid tinged the air, along with the must of sitting water. A legion of floor cleaning robots lined a section of wall, all stowed into box-like shelves. To the left of the door, a spigot jutted from the wall over a tiled basin, a bucket and mop close by.

For a beat she feared he’d used the room as a shortcut elsewhere but there were no other doors leading out beside the one she entered. After a few more seconds of exploration she found the Tivikonian man partially bent over a cleared off table, his tablet sitting off-center on the flat surface.

His shoulders heaved with his every breath, as if he’d run a marathon. Taliyra neared him, her eyebrows furrowed. “What in the stars are you doing?”

Khravel spun around, his lower hands grasping the table behind him as his upper arms spread out. His eyes wide, he looked the part of a child caught doing something wrong. And part of him knew it. Embarrassment joined the residual heat left from the carnal thoughts. “Why did you follow me?”

Taliyra cast him a look, hoping it translated to something akin to ‘We have already discussed this,’ as she crossed her arms. When his shoulders didn’t ease in defeat, she gave an irritable sigh. “Because this is a partnership wherein I’m supposed to give you a child and that is very hard to do with how you’ve been carrying on.”

His upper-set of hands dragged over his face as he groaned, “You are trying my patience, little one.”

That caused Taliyra pause. He’d never called her that and, for some reason, it sent a skittering flare of delight straight to her center. Trying to cling to her agitation, she frowned harder. “I’m not all that little, Khravel.”

An amused snort left Khravel as his hands dropped from his face. He found her leering up at him and, in such a small space, their size differential was all the more apparent. Mirroring her pose, his upper arms crossed over his chest. “To me, you are. And that is the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Taliyra narrowed her eyes, knowing full well that Laryse was not larger than her.

Khravel sighed. It wasn’t a simple aggravated sigh. It started with a deep chest-filling breath that, upon exhale, was released slow and low. It was an attempt to center himself, to stall, to come up with the right words.

He did not find those words.

Instead, his body moved on its own. He shoved away from the table, grabbing Taliyra. The feel of her soft body under his palms sending an additional flare of heat up his arms.

Shock bolted through her as four large hands gripped her, at her wrists and at her hips. She barely blinked before he lifted her, turned back around, dumped her on the table he’d been leaning over. Vaguely, Taliyra heard something clatter and then realized her soles were caressed by cold air, her shoes fallen from her feet. Her wrists were fed into one of his hands, pinned above her head to the wall behind her, causing her to lean slightly back since his other set of hands was not letting her hips move.

Anticipation twanged through Taliyra, her hitched breathing a telltale sign. Something about how he could handle her so easily, move her however he wanted, was both awful and alluring.

Somehow, Khravel managed to splay her legs in the move, standing between her angled knees. His free hand dropped between her thighs, intending to grind his palm against the fabric of her underwear.

“You are so small, I doubt you can handle even my fing–“ Khravel stilled, his red eyes darting from Taliyra’s face to her groin. His mouth felt dry and all too wet at the same time. To his credit, he did not groan, though he felt painfully close to it as his fingers traced over her bared sex. “Are you not wearing underthings?”

She cleared her throat, trying to force the excited shakiness from her words. “Thought they’d get in the way, if I talked sense into you.”

“I see,” Khravel croaked, realization at his vapid plan washing over him. What exactly had he thought would happen, even if she were wearing underwear? He was just thinking with his cock. A cock which, at that moment, was wedged against the table’s edge, throbbing at Taliyra’s proximity.

“You were saying something about your…?”  

“My finger. I doubt you could handle it.” Closing his eyes against his folly, Khravel leaned over Taliyra, forehead bracing on the forearm of the hand that held her wrists.

“I see,” she mimicked his earlier words. Her head tilted back, staring up into his unguarded face. This was the closest he had gotten to her and, though she would have preferred to have her hands free to explore, her eyes still drank in every detail.

She wished she could touch him. Feel those lines that fanned from his eyes. Graze her fingertips over the gradient of white-to-red. Let her finger follow that line that dipped straight down his body. Part of the allure of ProxyPanion had been the non-Terran beings, but even that Khravel had denied her.

Licking her lips, Taliyra spread her knees a little wider, angled her hips against his touch. “There is a way to find out.”

“Or we don’t.” Khravel opened his eyes, peering down at Taliyra. Between the wide angle of her legs and his hand, her skirt had inched dangerously close to baring all to his gaze.

“Or we don’t,” she echoed, her words laced with disappointment as she averted her gaze. That sense of rejection grew again in the pit of her stomach and heat licked at the back of her eyes, tears threatening. For a brief second, she thought they were moving forward to something better.

Under his palms, she could feel her body grow lax with acceptance as her knees tightened their angle, her thighs squeezing against his hand at her groin.

“Are you going to let me go or–“ Her words ended with a garbled sound as his finger skirted along her opening, palm grinding down on her clit.

Her eyes wheeled back up to Khravel, his hand squeezing her wrists as their eyes met. “You said I was bad at sex, Taliyra.”  

Those words were said so low, so soft. Not a verbalized threat in sight, but something in the tone promised something. Their little pocket of space was also heating up, making her heartbeat speed up. She flexed her hands, testing his hold, finding it unyielding.

Nervously, Taliyra licked her lips. “I can only go off precedent and thus far–“

“Quiet.” In a quick movement, he let go of her wrists, only to grab Taliyra’s throat. His thumb pressed to her lips, as if to keep them closed. She inhaled sharply, her eyes widening as she stared up at him, her hands immediately going to his wrist.  

Though Khravel was gratified to see her blush darken and her muscles at his fingertips flex excitedly. Her fingers trembled a little as she gripped him. He hoped it was excitement and not fear that made her tremble.

“You didn’t simply say I was bad at sex,” he murmured, leaning closer. Taliyra’s scent tickled at his senses, sweet and clean, along with the zing of adrenaline. ”You said I was terrible at it.”

A sound escaped her, verging on a whimper, but judging from her expression, it was meant to translate as ‘and?’

Khravel narrowed his eyes, the logical part of his brain asking the same exact question.

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