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    Summary

    Ratio wakes with a groan.

    That is to be expected—it’s been awhile since he’s allowed himself the… indulgence of a rut. There’s a dull headache building at the base of his skull, memories from yesterday playing through his mind in brief flashes, the saccharine sweet scent of an omega in heat still clogs his nose. There’s a reason he dislikes his own secondary gender, ruts were ultimately uncouth, unbecoming, alphas were no better than beasts and he saw himself above such animalistic instincts.

    He groans again, inhaling sharply when he tries to shift his body and feels the jolt of sharp pleasure. He finally deigns to open his eyes, and glancing down seems to be a mistake—Aventurine’s bright gaze meets his. The merchant’s lips stretched obscenely around his cock, pulling off with a wet slurp to smile at him. He closes his eyes, dizzy from the sight.

    Aventurine decides he doesn't really need a scent-suppressor around the doctor. (Or does he?)

    Language:
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