The ghost of white days past said to Chuuya, “Chuuya is all work and no play. You need to get some good, sweet loving, find a nice felinoid girl and settle down.”
A/N: Thank you to the wonderful people who cheered me on and brainstormed and helped make this story a reality, geckoholic and mornelithefalconsbane. Massive amounts of support, kink consultation, and straight up bribery made this happen. Thank you both!
People in heat were picky, even pickier than when they weren’t, which always seemed ridiculous to Kusanagi because that’s when you generally needed to be significantly less picky if you were going to get any relief.
And that was the trouble right now. First heats weren’t quite like later ones, when you’d gotten used to the whole thing and could probably ride one out without a partner or take suppressants without destroying any kind of regular cycle you happened to have. First heats were when you were pickiest because nothing felt quite right and you hadn’t learned yet that it wasn’t always your partner, and when a heat could turn lethal if you didn’t get relief and weren’t in the kind of familiar surroundings and scents and people that meant you didn’t panic in blind instinct.
In short, the last thing Kusanagi knew how to actually deal with was Yata Misaki curled up in a feverish ball at the bottom of the stairs. (more…)
Neither were ever going to admit they’d wanted this, Chuuya’s teeth ripping through bandages and Dazai’s nimble fingers stripping off every single piece of clothing he hated. They buried hands into each other’s hair, Chuuya might have put some effort into tearing it right off Dazai’s scalp, and let the intensity of their combined heats drive them to do things no one should have to with someone they hated.
“I hate you,” Dazai whispered like an endearment.
“Shut up,” Chuuya hissed back, but didn’t stop touching.
It’s not like there was anyone else they could be this vulnerable with. Partners.