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Mithrun was grateful for the space he was given. He knew from the look Kabru sent him yesterday when Mithrun haggardly set a burnt pan of food on the ground to be polite and just ate it without complaining or mentioning that this was the first time he’s burnt food in a year. Later that night, they got into an awfully one-sided bickering contest where Kabru only kept trying to concede which only served to make Mithrun more combative. And, given the argument was about bathing since Kabru was trying to sneak into the washroom quietly, aware of how temperamental Mithrun could behave at the drop of the hat near his heat due to his tales, it was clear that that’s what this was. Mithrun was entering heat for the first time in ten years. Even before, during his recovery, his heats were a pitiful thing. With no desire to act on the comfort and companionship most craved, Mithrun miserably sat in his own sweat and filth, lashing out into the air and proving only to really injure himself whenever approached until his week was up. It was that exposure, that forced submission and helplessness, needing to be completed by something else, feeling like nothing without something beside him… It put him back in the dungeon in a way he despised. It was when his desires were highest when he was fed from the last time, amidst his heat and riddled with confusion. He never spent it with someone, never trusted anyone enough to handle him in that state, and the demon had been so loving. He supposed that’s why it hurt so much, and why Kabru was on the top of his list of grievances the moment he came home and pecked him on the cheek just as he did every other day, not receiving the same low grunt and shift away as he did today.
Later, Mithrun would feel guilty for how he behaved that night. Even after Kabru kept agreeing to not bathe, to wear more clothes to bed to give Mithrun more scented items in the morning, everything he did irked Mithrun. He set the kettle on, forgetting Mithrun’s aversion to loud noises in this state (he told him about this before). He tried to fetch more blankets from the attic space by himself, so Mithrun had to get up and help so he didn’t fall on the latter instead of relaxing to calm his aching head (he told him about this. And near their bedtime, while Kabru was snuggled up to Mithrun on the couch, placing placating kiss on his face, he meekly asked if he could use his fairy to call someone (he knows better than to do this), and then Mithrun started another fight about Kabru not wanting to be around him which very clearly was not the case in hindsight. Mithrun sentenced him to sleep in the living room where he undoubtedly made a call that was along the lines of: “Hello, my lover is going to maim me if I go anywhere for the next few days; I hope you understand.”
An hour later, Mithrun left their room, his eyes tinged red, only relaxing upon finding Kabru sitting on the couch, reading a book quietly to himself. He walked over, plopping down beside him. He curled up into Kabru’s side with a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He sounded like he meant it. Mithrun buried his face into Kabru’s collarbone, right where his two coats and long-sleeve shirt met. He smelled so good. Mithrun inhaled deeply, stiffening when he felt Kabru’s arm wrap around his waist, but he relaxed just as fast. Kabru didn’t move after Mithrun’s bristle– likely aware of how easy it would be to set him off and be shunned to the garden– and resumed reading: it was partly to give the illusion of normalcy, and partly to dismiss the defensive, britten edge Mithrun kept building against him.
After a while, as Mithrun shifted to get more comfortable with the building ache in his hips, not out of desire, but out of discomfort at how empty it felt, how it felt the same as he was depleted, how— Kabru’s thumb brushed once, slow and grounding, along the ridge of Mithrun’s hip. I’m here
Mithrun shuddered faintly, his breath snagging where it pressed against Kabru’s neck. He hated this—hated needing comfort, hated craving proximity so badly that his skin prickled with it, hated how every sound and sensation registered twice as loud, twice as sharp, twice as unbearable. But Kabru’s warmth… Kabru’s scent… Kabru’s steady, unhurried heart beneath the layers of cloth: It quieted the worst of his memories. This heat was different: Kabru would be there, and he’d protect him in this state. Nothing would touch him here. Kabru knew what to do.
Finally, Kabru lifted a hand and closed the book with his finger tucked inside to save his page. He turned his head just enough to press a kiss to Mithrun’s forehead—light, brief, not greedy: A reassurance that was far from a claim. “Do you want to stay out here with me tonight?”
He’s taking me seriously. Mithrun shook his head and pressed closer, the movement jerky at first, then almost desperate. “No. Come to bed.”
Kabru adjusted immediately, pulling Mithrun onto him more squarely, letting the elf half-sprawl across his lap and torso. The weight settled something in Mithrun’s bones, coaxing a small, involuntary sigh out of him. His voice came out almost timid, but mostly riddled with shame, “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know,” Kabru said. “I should’ve slowed down. It must have been overwhelming.”
“No.” Mithrun’s fingers tightened. “You were being helpful. I—” He swallowed. “I haven’t had another person present besides the demon. I’m not used to it. I…”
Kabru’s hand slipped up his spine, slow and careful, nails grazing lightly through fabric. Mithrun shivered at that. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with the softness of it, with being held without bracing for violence or judgement from either side of the coin. And Kabru was being wise. He wasn’t commenting on how much heat was radiating off Mithrun’s skin, or inching away or staring at him with that wary caution others always had during his heats, nurses, friends and family alike.
Mithrun squeezed his eyes shut. Something tight in him loosened—not entirely, but enough that he could breathe without his chest aching.
After a long moment, Kabru reached for one of the spare throws draped over the back of the couch. He laid it across Mithrun’s back slowly, pausing when Mithrun’s shoulders rose. “We are going to bed.”
“Yes, dear,” Kabru replied, promptly dropping the blanket. Hauling the clinging elf up, Kabru staggered to their room. He set Mithrun on the bed first, then waited patiently until he was invited in after Mithrun went about the room, frazzled and irritable despite being the one to ask to move, throwing dirty clothes from the floor and onto the bed and opening the window only to close it right after with a betrayed hiss. Kabru laid stiff as a board, allowing himself to be mangled every which way until Mithrun’s senses weren’t screaming, and then they drifted off to sleep.
The moment Mithrun stepped into the living room with a crummy expression plastered on his face, Kabru made himself scarce from their shared home, promising to return later on so Mithrun had adequate time to do what he needed to do. A bout of anxiety coursed through him immediately as Kabru threw on his boots: What do you mean you are leaving? Where are you going? You have to stay with me; you promised-
His anxiety dispersed upon seeing Kabru was in Mithrun’s garden, but it also spiked momentarily because can that boy really tell the differences between sprouts and weeds? But he startled upon realizing his earlier fussiness had dispersed. He didn’t feel the need to rush outside and confront Kabru. In fact, he just felt like he always did: devoid, a little cold, empty, but a hint worse. It made his nose burn.
But he knew what Kabru left him alone to do, and he knew he’d be displeased if Kabru came back before he finished. Even if he was alone, he couldn’t help the jitters in his hands as he fiddled with their comforter for the eighth time in the past twenty minutes as he stared at their bed hopelessly. The time had come for his first heat with his first ever partner (that he allowed to see him in this state). While it was a blessing to always be surrounded by Kabru, he couldn’t help but wish he spent this heat in a locked room away from everything, shut in like he was used to, alone to rot in something less soothing than peace. Somewhere no one could touch him, no one could take advantage of his weakness.
No. There’s no use dwelling in the past. He had to make a nest before Kabru came ‘home’ and join him for the next few days. Shoving their blankets around, Mithrun made sure there were multiple layers of fabrics on the bed so they’d always cradled in soft coils, and Mithrun would never be far from his alpha’s scent. He remembered in his youth he liked having soft things always in reach so he could hold them close to his chest if he ever needed the comfort he could derive without a proper partner, so he put the pillows he gathered from the living room by the base of the bed, but set the one Kabru leaned against last night near their nighttime pillows.
Then he remembered that Kabru himself would be there. Kabru was going to hold him and comfort him. He didn’t need pillows, nor the blankets Kabru fetched him, nor his clothes. Reluctantly, he batted them off the side of the bed before plopping in the center of the sheets.
He tossed and turned wordlessly. It was a good nest, he dully noted, soft and comfortable against his skin no matter how much he wriggled, but it wasn’t good enough to ease the goosebumps on his arms. Though it was nice, and the lighting in the room didn’t hurt his eyes, and the taste of tea in his mouth was still prevalent in his mouth from when he drank the cup Kabru left out for him before he left- something was off.
He took a deep breath in, then realized why. He was completely encased in his scent, and that was it. Not the demon… nor Kabru. It wasn’t that his chosen mate smelt bad. Kabru smelled like cucumber and pine, which was refreshing like a gust of wind. He glanced down at the discarded items and squeezed his hands into fists. No, Kabru’s scent stayed there. He didn’t need it when Kabru himself would be there. It would look ridiculous, cuddling up to his scent, rubbing the blankets against his cheek like some prime omega with his alpha watching in amusement.
No. It’s fine. The nest was perfect. Kabru was going to love it as is. He was going to be proud Mithrun managed at all to get something cohesive together after not forming a nest for, what? Almost fifty years?
Mithrun dragged himself up and wandered to the back door. He summoned Kabru over with only the sound of the hinge, and Kabru waited patiently until Mithrun stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter before he could take a moment to assess how good of an idea that was. It didn’t matter. Tonight was about Kabru, him and their bond. The nest was perfect, the mood was right (or would be right in time), so there was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. This was perfect. It had all the elements correct.
Kabru smiled at him as they closed the door, locking it behind them and Mithrun relaxed only a little upon seeing it. It used to clear his head completely, why was he so…. nervous? They’ve done these motions before. He trusts Kabru. Why was it different? Was it because he was worried the house wasn’t secure? That Kabru would be called away?
Mithrun guided Kabru to their room, lingering behind as Kabru poked his head in. Immediately, Kabru turned back around, pecking Mithrun’s cheek before walking down the hallway. “I’ll give you time to finish; don’t worry about me!”
“Hm?” Mithrun peered over to his alpha, a frown building on his lips. “The nest is done.”
Kabru paused in his steps. He could almost see the tension in Kabru’s shoulders as he slowly pivoted, his smile hesitant and strained. “What do you mean? Your pillows are all on the floor-”
Mithrun blinked at Kabru as if the question itself were spoken in some other language.
“The nest is done.” His eyes flicked toward the room again, then back to Kabru with a tightness in his jaw that hadn’t been there seconds ago.
Kabru stepped forward slowly. His voice lowered to that calmer, warmer register he saved for unique moments that Mithrun craved. He enjoyed the sound of it. “Did you want help with the nest?”
Mithrun’s throat bobbed, eye widening at the claim.
Kabru cut in just as fast upon realizing the misstep. “Your nest is really nice as is, but you didn’t bring all this stuff to put it on the ground, right? I can help pick it up for you while you arrange them as you want. It’ll be less overwhelming than dealing with them all at once, right?”
Mithrun’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. His eyes flickered toward the scattered heap—pillows scattered every which way, blankets in tangled, flattened piles, sheets mounded like he’d tried to shape something out of them and abandoned the attempt halfway through upon losing the structural pieces he threw to the side. Kabru’s clothes once again littering the floor.
“…I don’t know,” he admitted, voice thin. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
Kabru leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Mithrun’s hairline. “That’s okay. I’m not sure how it goes either, but we will figure it out. Let’s add these and see if it feels right.”
Kabru knelt, gathering the edge of a blanket that had somehow been both folded and rumpled, shaking it out in one smooth motion before setting it neatly back on the bed. Then a pillow. Then another. Mithrun watched in tense silence, arms crossed tightly over his chest, every line of him stiff with an uncertainty.
Kabru straightened and glanced back at him. “Come decide what stays together with me?”
Mithrun hesitated, then stepped closer. Kabru held out a blanket to him. “Here. What made you bring this one in?”
Mithrun stared at it for a moment, then shrugged helplessly. “It smelled like you.”
Kabru smiled. “Then this one should definitely stay?”
He placed it carefully on the bed, smoothing his hand over it twice, letting it settle as something deliberate rather than discarded. The room already felt calmer for it. Mithrun shifted closer to the bed, staring down at the accumulating mess. He plucked the blanket up. “I have you here. I don’t… need your scent.”
“You enjoyed it last night.” Mithrun threw him a look, setting the blanket back down on the bed. “If I need to get us food or water, you’ll like having them there. If you don’t like it, we can remove it or build your next nest differently.”
Next nest? Mithrun’s breath hitched and his posture loosened, the tension in his shoulders easing with Kabru’s steady presence and lingering scent shaping the chaos into something manageable, something he could breathe with. He pried the edge of the pillows he stacked together apart, inserting the blanket haphazardly in a way that didn’t look nice, but mixed well with his senses: Rough texture beside soft, cool-to-the-touch beside long furs. He glanced up, noticing that though his pile to work with was well-stocked, the additions began to dwindle despite lacking quite a bit of the materials Mithrun gathered previously. He looked up through his bangs as he laid one of Kabru’s shirts near his night pillow, pausing when he noticed Kabru with a blanket in hand.
Kabru didn’t appear to notice he had an audience. Or if he did, he pretended not to as he pressed part of the blanket length into the slope of his neck, rubbing it slowly and purposefully along the crook of his jaw, across where his scent was the strongest. He then shifted it in his hands and did it again in a new location, unconcerned of how intimate the motion looked and how Mithrun’s lungs squeezed.
He’s scenting it for me.
He’s putting his scent everywhere for me. He wants me to smell like him.
His fingers tightened involuntarily around the shirt.
Kabru moved to the next item, repeating each time before tossing the fabric blindly into their nest. Each time, Kabru’s scent grew thicker, warmer in the air—pine and fresh cucumber, cool brightness layered over the heat already simmering off Mithrun’s skin. Fuck, he wanted to drink in that nectar, fill his lungs with that fuel, be overwhelmed by everything Kabru. He felt a wetness below and swallowed.
He’s… claiming me. He wants me.
Mithrun’s stomach flipped, tight with something hungry. His ears burned as he tried not to watch Kabru too obviously, but his eyes wouldn’t move as he rushed to find every garment a home. Kabru finished the last throw blanket before turning back, a smile building on his lips at the more complete looking nest, this time with his scent thoroughly laced within. Mithrun pursed his lips.
Kabru turned back to him with an almost sheepish smile, holding out the blue blanket. “Do you want this one on the top, or by your pillows?”
He wants me to be enveloped by him. Somehow, this thought didn’t trigger alarm or memories best left forgotten. He only nodded, taking the blanket and putting it on top of his primary pillow, soothing it in place with care. There would be nothing more satiating this week than drowning within Kabru in any form. It was a far blissful end than any he’s met. He surveyed their nest which suddenly looked less empty and sparse and more like a place for two. He turned to Kabru. “Get in.”
“... Wouldn’t you prefer to get in first and make sure it’s all comfortable and right?”
“No.” Mithrun leveled him a blank look to ease his own nerves. “You need to scent it. It hardly smells like you.”
Kabru scoffed at his audacity. It reeks of me was likely on his tongue before he remembered himself and did as he was told. He climbed into their nest, lying down in the middle of the clothes and blankets. Mithrun waited until the familiar odor of his mate, both his scent and sweat from the night befores layers upon layers of clothes Mithrun egged him to wear, filled the room. He joined soon after, tiredly flopping down onto Kabru’s chest. They laid there for a moment before Mithrun could detect a slight spike in Kabru’s heart rate followed by a hand tightening on his waist. Kabru leaned down to kiss his head, and Mithrun could feel his deep inhale.
“... How are you feeling?”
Mithrun smirked a little at the strain in Kabru’s tone. He nodded. “In a moment. I’m wet.”
“I know.” He sounded agonized. Kabru’s hips shifted beneath him. Mithrun closed his eyes, nuzzling his cheek against Kabru’s chest, staining it with his scent in turn and eliciting a gasp from Kabru, who raised his hand to bite at his own wrist.