He holds himself stiffly apart as Ankari turns and makes himself ready, fists clenched hard enough to dig bloody gouges into his palms and shoulders set in a taut line, as if tension alone might hold back the bestial urges that threaten to overtake him. Judgmental words are beyond his grasp at this moment, though Khoriya does let out a disapproving(?) grunt of surprise at Ankari's seeming preparedness for this moment.

But he cannot long resist that wanton lift of hips and the slim curve of Ankari's ass, for all that - as Khoriya tells himself - there is nothing of true attraction or wanting between them. Only as necessity dictates in this desperate moment.

The challenge in that hard look is met with a growl, and between one breath and the next, Khoriya is upon him in a fury that could be mistaken for an attack - were it not for the hot and heavy press of a massive cock shoved between Ankari's parted thighs and the strong grasp of clawed hands, one upon his hip and the other caught in the corn-yellow fall of Ankari's hair. Pulling his head back as if to bare the elf's throat for Khoriya's taking, fanged jaws close over the collar of his shirt, where neck joins shoulder - but then locks in place before he can break skin, ravening animal urges dragged kicking and snarling back from the brink.