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Summary
“You really came.” It's a quiet, breathless statement.
Zephyr pushes his hair off of his face as he sits up, hastily attempting to compose himself with a breath.
“You told me to be here.” Cataclysm replies, doubtfully casts his eyes away from the way his collarbones dip, sweat clinging to his skin. He clears his suddenly dry throat. “You're in heat.