The last thought broke through his mental shields and broadcasted loudly, with all its grasping desperation, then snapped into static, bright, humming, sharp, too loud to hear anything else. The rest of his senses failed completely. He lost time in that static.
When he surfaced again, it was to soul-shattering desire, a desire making a ruin of his stability and his honor, repeating in a self-feeding loop - his mouth, her mouth, his skin, hers, and the soft and maddening crush of her human form against him.
He'd pinned her against her wall. His mind struggled to catch up. He'd pinned her against the wall. His hands were pulling at her, his hands were devouring animals, crawling with senseless abandon over any part of her he could reach. Her hips, her sides -- the desperation pushed him harder, made him fill his palms with her -- and it wasn't just his hands that obeyed that desperation.
He hazily realized that her feet were completely off the ground, and he'd ground his hips against her with such pressure that it alone would have held her against the wall. But it was more than that -- no space between their chests, now, and ah, he was kissing her, filling her mouth with his tongue, all greed and hot wanting. A sound rattled out of his throat, not a growl and not a groan, but something in between.
This was not their way. This was a human response, and the shame of that realization broke through the blur of desire enough to let his sense of right emerge. He gripped her waist - tight, hard - and stepped back, catching her weight in his hands before lowering her feet to the floor. He couldn't look at her.
"I'm so sorry," he brokenly said, and his voice was thready and raw. "I'm so sorry, Sabev. I'm so sorry."