Sitting in the dark he tried not to think of work. His mind wandered far too often when he was forced to wait in this place. He didn't come here to think

Another man might have taken too many liberties, but he was careful to walk only the finest of lines. Only three drawers full of clothing were scattered about the floor of the bedroom, and always the same three. The men's suits in the wardrobe bore the furious scars of talons ripping through fabric. He had no idea who the suits had belonged to, if anyone, but there were always new, clean sets for him to destroy.

Holo frames of friends and family were turned face down or against the wall. The small square dining table littered with various knick-knacks was pushed into the narrow opening of the galley kitchen. The lights were all unplugged. It was a small living room, but with the couches flat against the wall the dark made it feel infinitely more spacious.

He left the frames of the large black and white cityscape photographs on the walls alone. Though their subjects repulsed him he respected the mastery with which they captured the suffocation of urban life. He couldn't bear for them to hang crooked or to become damaged in any way.

The door opened slowly and he heard the familiar jangle of the key card being replaced into her purse. She had swapped her starched white shirt and apron for a tighter-fitting black tank top that let her boast of the firm shape of her arms and shoulders. Her outlandishly tinted hair fell in loose waves over skin that seemed to shimmer in the dim and foggy light that came through the cracks in the window blinds.

"You're late," he said, rising abruptly from the white leather armchair.

"I stopped by the store to pick up some wine," the woman replied, presenting him with a brown paper bag covered in a cursive asari script. He knocked it aside, letting the contents fall to the floor with a slight crack. He was relieved it didn't break.

"I didn't ask for wine."

"I thought you might like it."

"You don't think anything unless I tell you to," he snarled, letting his tall, proud form loom threateningly over hers. Her deep brown eyes stared stolidly back at him, never releasing their hold as she pulled her tank top over head and tossed it on top of the wine merchant's bag. He flexed his gloved fingers anxiously as she loosened the clasp on the second item of clothing she wore underneath. The straps slid down her smooth bronzed arms and his breath caught in his throat as at the sight of her small, taut breasts. He could hear the pulsing of her heart in his groin.

"Kiss me," he demanded.

He leaned into her, pressing her back against the door. She grinned impassively at him, closing her eyes and breathing deeper so that her breasts were raised higher into his vision.

"Kiss me," he purred into her neck. The woman closed her large, languid eyes and brought her rosy lips to his mouth. She was delicate in her touch, kissing him like she was merely sipping wine. His hands tenderly enclosed her face, he wanted to savor these sensations for as long as she would give them. He softly pried her lips apart with his tongue, searching for contact with hers. She tasted of cinnamon. She opened to him, but only for the briefest of moments before she stopped moving completely and froze solid in his grasp.

"The hard way then, is it?"

No reaction.

"The hard way," he sighed.

Nihlus grabbed her forcibly by the throat and pulled her into the living room. She gasped for air as he threw her onto her knees in the middle of the rug. Letting go of her neck, he slapped her on the back so she tumbled onto her elbows. He dug his fingers inside the waistband of her pants and yanked them down hard. The smell of sweat and desire lingered in the fine hairs that covered the little world between her legs.

He filled his palms with the full curve of her hips, pressing hard through the soft tissue to feel the sharpness of bone beneath. He raised a hand high above her and then brought it back down heavily upon her rear. He heard her cry of pain as she sucked the breath back into her lungs. It wasn't loud enough. He raised his hand again and it fell on her even harder, but still her cry was little more than a whimper. He struck her harder and faster, watching deep red clouds form on her skin until she finally called out in a triumph of agony and rapture.

Pleased with her response, he took a moment to hover over her trembling nubile body. Her ragged panting delighted him. The perfume of her lust permeated his nostrils and spread its musky taste along his tongue.

She looked at him hungrily as he sank to his knees in front of her. His predator eyes, fully adapted to the dark now, could see the color filling her face. He slowly loosened the collar at his cowl and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, deliberately taking his time. He lifted his shirt slightly and pushed down the waist of his pants, gliding his fingers across his naked seam. Her eyes fixed upon that spot in his lower abdomen, he could feel her lurching for it but she did not have his permission.

"Hands on the floor," he thundered. She closed her eyes in ecstasy at the roll of his voice across her ears. "Eyes on me."

Her hips twitched as she watched him stroke himself free. When his hardness finally emerged, he shoved it firmly into her eager, hot mouth. He liked the subtle scrape of her teeth against him as he filled her. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, winding the locks around the base of his knuckles. He looked down on her with a bestial satisfaction as he slid his sex against the roof of her mouth. Her tongue flicked at his tip and her lips made the most delicious wet sound as they sucked at him.

"Keep looking at me, girl," he breathed. "Keep looking at me."

Moisture was leaking from her eyes, making black streaks from the markings on her lids run down her face as little tears rolled over her cheeks. He leaned back, giving her a break from his vigorous thrusts, and let her grab his hips with her too-many fingers so she could control the pace. Small vibrations slithered through his sex as she hummed her pleasure. The fire in his core was building, he had to build those flames higher.

Tugging on her hair, he lifted her head from his sex. Saliva dripped from her reddening chin and she flashed her teeth at him mischievously. He flipped her around roughly and plunged himself into the opening between her legs. She let out a loud exultant cry that rang in his skull. He let himself rest there for a moment, luxuriating in the sensation of being swallowed. Her walls were tight around him, sending a fever through his base and into his brain.

"I am going to fuck you," he moaned into her ear.

He drew small circles with his hips as she melted over him and balled her fists into the rug.

"I am going to fuck you so hard you'll split in two."

He plowed her with vigorous long strokes, reaching for the depths of her womb. It was not enough to penetrate, he wanted to be fully inside of her, practically a part of her.

"I will fuck your wounds," he pounded with fury. "I will come inside them. And when I sew you back together you will beg me to do it again and again."

He was timing himself well, he kept her quaking beneath him long before he reached his peak. She liked it more dangerous than he did, but he pulled himself out with just enough time to spare to spill his seed across the sweat glistened hollow of her back.

"Katerina," he murmured reverently as he fell beside her on the floor. He pulled off a glove to softly brush the backs of his fingers against her face. "Katerina, Katerina, Katerina."


Bonus! The song playing in my head during this scene is "Love Me Like I'm Not Made Of Stone" by Lykke Li