“Stand by, Hexen. I am… concluding a sensitive matter.”

Heinrix panted, the lighter of his mismatched eyes fixed on Marazhai as he failed to stop a frown, a pleasured whimper staked in discomfort. He then arches with a silent, teeth-clenched wince. He tried again, focusing on the cold, hard authority he was supposed to embody. “This is Interrogator van Calox. Stand by, Hexen. I am… concluding a sensitive matter.”
The vox crackled again, Hexen’s voice cutting through the static, tinny and utterly oblivious to the drama unfolding in the chamber. “Understood, Interrogator. But the matter is urgent. The cargo manifests from the Xylos transfer require your authorization cipher to be sealed. Without it, the records remain open, and Lord Aurastor was… explicit… about discretion.”
Heinrix squeezed his eyes shut. Of course. A cipher. Something that required memory, precision. Marazhai seemed to sense the shift, the new layer of pressure, as he shifted his weight, a subtle, deliberate movement that made Heinrix’s legs tremble.
Some heretical, defiant, buried part of him wished to declare that he was… servicing a superiour asset.
“The cipher…” Heinrix gasped out-fingers on the panel- trying to focus, to pull the string of characters from his memory. He could feel Marazhai’s claw tracing the line of his spine, slow and deliberate. “…stand by.”
“Did you say you are transmitting, Lordship?” Hexen’s voice was laced with strain. “Vox is unstable on this channel. There is… interference.”
“No,” Heinrix gritted out, his forehead pressed hard against the cold plasteel. The ‘interference’ was the sound of his own ragged breathing, the low growl of pleasure from the Drukhari behind him. He needed to end this.