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    Summary

    Wriothesley rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “My ruts suck because I don’t spend them with a partner. Omegas get too attached and I have no interest in entertaining—”

    “Why don’t you fuck me, then?”

    Wriothesley's mouth falls open in shock. And so does Neuvillette’s because what in the ever-loving intrusive thought was that? His instincts getting the better of him, that’s what. Neuvillette’s dragon purrs underneath his skin, delighted by the thought. Wriothesley smells wonderful. They trust each other. He would take care of him and breed him full—

    Neuvillette slams his pen down abruptly, causing Wriothesley to jerk. “Wriothesley, I apologize,” he says, the words thick on his tongue. “That was incredibly crass of me to suggest.”

    Neuvillette decides to offer a helping hand for Wriothesely's rut.

    Language:
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