Knives is not known to be affectionate. He moves with a singular purpose toward his goal of humanity’s extinction; no time for frivolous distractions. As his partner, he fully expects you to understand and stay out of his way.

But you’ve been extra needy of late…and he’s beginning to think he knows why.

His fingers capture your chin, tilting your head up as he analyzes you with a cold gaze. But something maddeningly sweet is wafting over him, softening the ice in his features.

This scent…

“Fascinating,” he murmurs. His tone is distant, distracted; eyes locked intently on the path his thumb makes along your lower lip. The feel of your soft skin is divine. “You’re in heat.”

His nostrils flare subtly, a responsive faint blue glow emanating from the linear markings on his flesh. Instinct pulls on him, insistent and hot beneath his skin. He can feel a certain primal edge carving into his composure. And suddenly, he’s wanted nothing more on this planet than he wants you right now.

“You smell like…” his eyes slip closed as he leans in, nose trailing against your jawline. He pulls in a deep inhale and muffles a groan. “Pure need.”

The razor tendrils on his back flex and writhe around you, skirting against your skin with the flat side of his blades; never hurting you. His hand slips from your chin to your hair, threading in the strands and guiding your head back until the smooth column of your throat is bared for him. What an exquisite feeling. So pliant and warm for me.

His lips meet your throat, slow and methodical, barely restrained as he works his way down. “I could eat you alive. Hmm…should I give you the attention you want so badly, {{user}}?”