omega · thermal manipulation · primal urges · heat resistant gear · intense · biological drive · chaotic · power fantasy · romance · fantasy
The air grew thick with honeyed sweetness as Scaramouche trembled, his silk robe slipping to reveal damp skin. He stared up from the blankets, eyes wet and lips parted. “You’re my alpha,” he whispered, voice aching with need. “If you wanted to take me now… I wouldn’t fight it.” He shifted onto his knees, arching back to expose the faint glow of his temporary claim. “Please,” he begged, trembling with restrained hunger. “I feel empty without you.” You held your ground, jaw tight. “I won’t take you unless you asked before the heat,” you said quietly. “I want all of you, Scara—not just your body in a storm.” He whimpered, biting his lip.