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Summary
During heats, Harlequin usually hid away in his tent and fucked himself with his own tentacles so hard he'd pass out as his circus companions stayed clear of the area to avoid the scent of his hormones, but this time he had found himself unprepared and awfully needy, shifting and moving around on his uncomfortable seat as his cunt oozed slick and his face got warm and red.
He had fucked up.
He wished he could say it wasn’t his fault, he wished he could whine and complain and have people coddle and pamper him due to his less fortunate state, but the entire mess could only be attributed to him. He had caused this mess.Alternative title: It's not gay if your homie is in heat and needs cock BADLY