Found the taste of iron. For all of his strength, sureness, and stride, James Kirk was only human. His skin would break under a predator's sharp teeth, no much how the predator he himself was. He pressed upwards, trying to force Ayel off of him. It hurt. There was no pleasure in this, just claws biting into his still sensitive scars and teeth scraping.

Anger-fear pulsed against Ayel's skin as it passed outwards Kirk. Kirk thought hard, thought fast. He twisted a hand up and skated fingertips over ribs until he came to the soft-smooth flesh under Ayel's armpit, followed the curve to the bicep.

He grabbed flesh between thumb and forefinger and twisted as hard as he could.