It builds, so strongly within that he is now shivering. What is this rage that simmers within him? That now rages and demands release? Why is this simple female so infuriating, why must he care what she thinks? How she feels? What she does? It haunts his every waking moment and causes him great strife. He never feels sated until she is within his sights. Then even then he must keep giving himself steady doses in order to keep calm, to keep from ripping the eyes out of everyone’s head. They did not deserve to lay sight upon her. They did not deserve to share her space, to breathe her air, to have anything to do with her. Did that mean that he did? He did not have a answer to that question but he would prove to himself and she that he was just as strong as she despite the fragmented pieces of his psyche.

Eyes narrow with the effort to keep her gaze, to keep himself in check. He would not hurt her.

”Indeed I am.” His voice trails over her nose in the form of warm breath, almost drawing his eye to see if her fur rustled. Such a tart little thing, her nose, his own mimicking it’s earlier wrinkle when he had foolishly given her a nickname. Yet for some twisted way in his head she was a firefly. A little pesky bug that insisted on showing the way with its miniscule light. At least he tried to downplay it in his mind in such a way.

Glares are locked as he ratchets up the intensity of his, optics holding so much heat it is a surprise they do not melt right out of his head. Ears are now pinned back, never bouncing back as hers had. His fur prickled and bristled slightly, almost seeming to wave within the invisible zephyr but alas none is to be had. Only thing creating said movement is the quiver of his perfectly controlled bodice. He would not hurt her. ”Perhaps you do not see what you are looking for because you do not observe.” He says this in a heady whisper, throwing her own words back into her pretty little face. How could she not see the crater wide crevices in his armor? They are miles long when he is in her vicinity, deeper than the largest ocean and just as stagnant as a puddle. ”These voids are infernal. They consume me from the inside out. They pollute my mind and cause me to stir with strife. I am broken, only meant for the battle field. I will destroy everything close to me just as my parents did before me. I am of old devastating blood.” He was the sole remaining of the fantastic four, a son carrying every single bloodline. Every strength and weakness lies within his pelt. ”I do not. I only follow my heart and instinct.” His words are double edged as he steps forward, angling his head before doing something that surprises even he. He dips his head to nuzzle the fine fur of her neck, a deep shuddering exhalation sweeping through his tightly coiled chassis. He allows himself this moment, to really touch what maddens him, before stepping back into his earlier parallel position, fully aware of the fact that he broke eye contact but no longer remembering why it mattered so. ”You want to be here so you are. WHAT do you feel when near me? Do your instincts not warn you? Do you not feel the heat as it all but washes over you?“ He studies her, watching the fire that swirls within her mahogany optics. So determined and senselessly brave.

There it was, the cat was out of the bag. He was fearful that he may hurt her. His body relaxed as the air is let out of his sails, almost hinting that he was ready to flee the situation.

But one thing was clear. He did not hurt her today.