Kyyre’s body reacted before his brain could catch up. The moment Leon’s fingers so much as ghosted against his skin, his mouth opened, and an instinctual, breathless “No” ripped out of him. Sharp, immediate, unfiltered. It startled even him, his voice barely more than a desperate rasp, but there was no taking it back now.

His entire body was wired, every muscle strung tight, tension coiling in his limbs like a spring about to snap. His face was still burning, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, and his chest ached from the sheer force of his own heartbeat. He could feel the heat radiating off of Leon, the weight of his presence so close, too close, pressing in around him like a cage.

His own hands had curled into the furs at his sides, gripping them in a vice as though that alone would keep him tethered to reality. His lungs struggled to pull in a full breath, his throat so tight he could barely swallow around it. His mind was a fractured mess, flickering wildly between incoherent panic and something much, much worse.

He refused to look at him.

He couldn’t.

Because if he did, if he met those sharp amber eyes, if he saw that expression, that unreadable yet devastatingly focused gaze—

His brain would short-circuit entirely.

He squeezed his eyes shut instead, dragging in a shaky breath through his nose, trying desperately to shove down the firestorm in his chest. His pulse was out of control, rattling against his ribs like it wanted to escape. This was stupid, so, so stupid. He needed to get it together.

But gods, it was impossible when Leon was right there, when his scent was thick in the air, when his damp fur and scarred skin were still branded into the backs of his eyelids like a cursed afterimage.

This wasn’t fair.

None of this was fair.

The word slips past his lips before he can stop it.

"Please."

A whisper, barely even a sound, more breath than voice. His throat tightens immediately after, as if trying to choke it back, as if it could somehow undo what had already been said. But it’s too late. The word is out there, hanging in the air between them, raw and fragile in a way that makes his stomach twist.

He doesn’t even know why he said it. Doesn’t know what he’s asking for, only that something inside him is pulling, reaching, begging. For what? Understanding? Distance? More?

His mind is a mess, splintered and fraying at the edges, unable to process anything beyond the thundering pulse in his ears and the unbearable heat crawling up his spine. He feels exposed, like something vital has been wrenched out of him and laid bare, and there’s no way to shove it back inside.

His breath stutters as he curls in on himself just slightly, fingers still twisted into the furs beneath him like they’re the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely. He doesn’t dare open his eyes.

He’s terrified of what he’ll see if he does.

His mind was whirling in a daze, that was two contradicting statements and he was going to struggle to pick which was the correct one. He stood there for a long moment, watching as Kyyre curled up, his form becoming smaller on the fur pelts. Hands dug so firmly into them, Leon thought he was going to plush the fibres from the skins.

He didn’t know what to do. Why was Kyyre like this? His eyes darted to the door, debating if he should seek out Astrid. He seemed to know what to do with Kyyre. But that thought was quickly cut off. He didn’t want to go get him, even if it was selfish. But perhaps, if Leon could do what he did, then it would work out. Kyyre would be okay again. Yes, that sounded right.

Leon waited a moment before he turned and sat on the edge of the bed, just far enough away so that he didn’t touch Kyyre until he extended his claw tipped hand. It hovered over the top of Kyyre’s head for a long heartbeat. Fingers almost shaking, almost. Then he let his hand push into the hair, the claws parting it easily. Mimicking the action he had witnessed Astrid perform various times.

Slowly, he moved his fingers, trying not to let the claws catch his scalp. On occasion they did just graze the surface, but he made damn sure he wasn’t hurting him.

He didn’t know what that please meant. Had he wanted comfort, or isolation? Why was this man so hard to understand? It made Leon’s mind whir with thoughts, questions with no answers and answers with no questions.

All he knew was he craved the contact, the brushing of hair against his skin sent shivers up and down his spine. It made the fur stand on end, spiked far out from his back. Leon wasn’t sure if he wanted to wag his tail or freeze up in fear, fear that he was going to do something wrong.

The answers here were not obvious, it was confusing and overwhelming. He was going to let Kyyre sleep on the bed, to recover and he was going to curl up on the lounge. But there was something that made Leon stay at the bed, made him push his fingers into his hair, made him reignite the fire in his chest. Nurturing the intense pull that dragged him closer to Kyyre, made his torso lean in, edging ever so slowly closer towards Kyyre’s body.

The same feeling made his eyes flicker with all the distracting emotions, almost blank as he tried to stop himself from pouncing on top of him. His mouth was watering again. He had to gulp, to remove it, but it returned just as quickly. Dear gods, what was happening to him?

Kyyre’s world was spinning, tilting violently on its axis as he curled into himself. The furs beneath him felt both unbearably soft and stiflingly heavy, like he was sinking into them, being swallowed whole by the warmth radiating from the bed, from his own skin, from Leon.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t process. He’d barely managed to rasp out that please—a plea that even he didn’t understand—and now he was drowning in the silence that followed, suffocating under the weight of his own confusion. The air was thick, pressing against his chest, making it impossible to take a full breath.

And then—

Fingers. Clawed, deliberate fingers pressing into his hair, parting the strands, dragging against his scalp with a care so unexpected it almost hurt. Kyyre’s breath hitched. His entire body jerked in response, not away from the touch but straight into it, as if some primal, desperate part of him had been waiting for this exact thing. As if he’d been wound up so tightly that the slightest bit of comfort sent him unraveling completely.

It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. Heat crackled through his body, pooling low in his stomach, making his limbs feel heavy, useless. His skin prickled in waves, and gods above, what was wrong with him?

His heart was a frantic drumbeat against his ribs, erratic and wild, every nerve in his body set aflame. He tried to control his breathing, tried to slow the rapid rise and fall of his chest, but then the claws just barely scraped his scalp, sending another sharp shock of sensation straight down his spine.

A sound—something breathless and humiliating—escaped him before he could stop it, strangled and sharp, the kind of noise that made his face burn hotter than it already was.

No. No no no no no.

This was bad. This was dangerous.

Kyyre forced his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, willed himself to not react, to not make another sound, to not arch into the touch that had his entire body trembling.

But then he felt it.

The shift. The subtle change in the air, in the weight on the bed.

Leon was leaning in. Getting closer. His presence, already suffocating, was now crushing—a force of heat and gravity that Kyyre had no hope of resisting. He could hear him breathing, could feel the way the air shifted as he moved. And—gods help him—he wanted to open his eyes, wanted to look, wanted to see the expression on his face, the fire in his gaze.

But he couldn’t.

If he looked, if he met those eyes, if he saw the truth burning there—

He wouldn’t survive it.

So he stayed frozen, fists clenched into the furs, breath coming too fast, too unsteady, his entire body betraying him.

And through it all, his mind screamed.

There was that twitch, the subtlest movement but the pressure on his hand increased as Kyyre smushed himself into the touch. That was all Leon required to be reassured that he wasn’t going to cause some sort of drama by keeping his hand there. This is what Astrid did, what else did he do?

Leon hated that his mind was being ripped away from the present, trying to pick through the irritated emotions he had experienced. The bundles of muscles in his injured arm tensed but the warm bloom of pain was drowned out by the other tornado of emotions rocketing through him.

His hand paused as his ears were blessed with that sound, it made his head tilt, eyes blink in quick succession. He wanted to hear that again.

Leon kept his hand where it was, didn’t dare remove it from Kyyre despite the tensing of the other heir’s muscles. He leaned no closer, fearing that if he did he would end up crushing him.

The careful articulation of his fingers continued, working their way into his hair, slipping around to the side of his face. Where the base of his palm brushed against Kyyre’s cheek, he kept his claws out of the way. Wanting to draw that sound from him again.

Even if it felt wrong to toy like this, it felt like he was playing with his prey. He couldn’t stop himself when he dipped his fingertips and let the sharpness drag across his scalp again. This time a little more purposeful, obvious that Leon intended to do it. That he wanted that reaction again.

He wasn’t a complete and utter fool and if the air carried any indication of what was happening, it was igniting the neurons in his brain like a shockwave. Rolling over his senses to the point of no return. It was like being dunked into ice cold water whilst simultaneously having someone brand him with a white-hot iron. His mind didn’t know which way he was supposed to be going.

Was he meant to leave, touch, sleep? It was a flurry of thoughts that seemed to never end as he watched Kyyre move under his ministrations. It was hypnotizing. He realised. Leon couldn’t take his eyes off of Kyyre, fearing that the moment he did the other heir was evaporate into thin air and cease to exist.

His body dipped a little closer, daring and pushing the boundaries. Leon was testing how close he could hover before something would change. Waiting for a peek of those pink eyes, the shift of muscles. Anything at all.

The premise that he was being intoxicated by something left his mind, that he was being a fool for indulging. Whatever this pull was negated all logic and reason. When it came to this pull, he could control it. He understood it. But this was different, he didn’t know why but it was so intense that it almost drew a rumble from the back of his throat.

On second thought, it did. The sound reverberated from deep in his chest and escaped through his throat, half muffled by his attempts to subdue the sound.

Kyyre thought he was going to die. Right here, face down in these suffocatingly soft pelts, mortified beyond belief.

The second those fingers moved again—deeper, rougher, clawing just enough to send an electric jolt straight through his spine—his body betrayed him. A full-body twitch, his breath hitching, a choked little noise catching in his throat before he could stop it. He clenched his fists tighter, as if he could physically restrain his own reactions, but the way Leon's palm brushed against his cheek, warm and solid, made his stomach flip.

Gods. This was—this was—

Another twitch, another pathetic noise swallowed too late. He tried to turn his face down, hide the burning of his cheeks, bury himself in the furs to escape this overwhelming sensation crawling up his spine, but then Leon did it again—claws dragging, deliberate this time, undeniable in their intent. Kyyre let out something dangerously close to a whimper before clamping his lips shut, mortification burning through his veins like wildfire.

What was wrong with him?!

His ears were ringing. His entire body felt too hot, burning up from the inside out, yet at the same time he was shivering, every nerve in his skin hypersensitive to every tiny movement. Every single time those claws so much as brushed against his scalp, another spark of heat jolted through him, making his muscles tense and tremble. He couldn't stop it, couldn't control it, and that was the worst part of all. He was unraveling at the seams, coming apart without even knowing why.

Then Leon shifted again. Closer.

Kyyre felt the bed dip with his weight, felt the shift of air, felt the warmth of him. Even though there was still space between them, it wasn’t enough. He felt him—his presence was a physical thing, pressing down onto Kyyre's already overloaded senses, drowning him. It made it impossible to think. Impossible to breathe.

Don't look at him.

If he looked, if he met Leon’s gaze—if he saw whatever expression he was making right now—he would combust on the spot.

And then. And then.

A sound rumbled through the air, low and deep, vibrating through the furs and sinking into Kyyre’s bones.

A growl. A purr. A sound so visceral and rich it resonated in his ribs, thrummed through every last nerve like an electric current, sent a violent shudder tearing through his frame.

His breath stopped. His whole body locked up, went rigid, fingers digging into the pelts with a grip so tight it was painful. A strangled gasp ripped from his throat, something weak and wrecked, and before he could even process what he was doing—

He turned his head.

And his eyes snapped open.

And he met Leon’s gaze.

And everything fell apart.

The second his pink eyes locked onto those burning ambers, his mind blanked.

Leon was too close. His face, his body, all sharp angles and raw strength, his fur still damp, slicked down his spine, his scars illuminated by the dim, golden light of the room. He looked—he looked—

Holy shit.

Kyyre’s heart slammed into his ribs, his breath hitched so sharply he nearly choked on it, and—gods help him—another noise slipped past his lips, high and thin and utterly ruined.

His whole body betrayed him. His fingers curled deeper into the furs, his knees drew up slightly, instinct pulling him in on himself, but his traitorous body still leaned into the touch, still chased after the warmth, despite every last ounce of common sense screaming at him to pull away, to flee, to run for his life.

But he couldn't.

He was frozen. Stuck.

Burning alive under the weight of that gaze.

His heart pounded, blood roaring in his ears, vision narrowing down to nothing but Leon, Leon, Leon.

And then—

His lips parted.

A single word slipped out, barely more than a breath.

"Please."

He didn’t even know what he was asking for. Didn’t even care.

He just needed—

Gods, he didn't even know.

It was like torture, watching and listening to every little sound that travelled up to his ears from Kyyre. It was similar to fighting, it was an endless pull that made him crave more. The warmth, the sounds, the sensation. All of it made Leon want more and more until he couldn’t have enough.

When his eyes flashed open, Leon’s breathing stopped all together. His eyes stared down at Kyyre, bright and predatory, his entire body froze in time for that minute moment of time. It felt like the seconds dragged out into decades as he watched and waited for anything.

Then came that word.

It was barely recognisable as a word, it sounded more like a sigh than anything else. A puff of air that had been permeated with the hint of a voice. But Leon heard it. He heard it loud and clear.

There was not a split second of hesitation before Leon had moved. Within that moment, he had pressed himself over the top of Kyyre. The hand that had been in his hair was now planted firmly just beside it, pushing into the fur and displacing the section of pelts beneath his head.

He could feel his own hot breath bouncing off of Kyyre’s skin and back onto himself, lips parted in the strained pant as he loomed over him. His tail was kinked, half lolled to the side and swaying with the smallest movement. His body cast a shadow over the other heir, engulfing him with his presence.

He stayed there, watching and admiring. The sinew in his arm feathered around his muscles, tensing and relaxing as he fought his own mind. He looked so perfect there, like it was the right place to be. It was, he was safe in here. No one else could get him, he was here with Leon.

It was a singular thought that ripped through him that made him stop. Made Leon rear back and tear himself away from Kyyre with a sharp hiss as he twisted his bad arm. He stalked away a few paces, tail lashing and his eyes creased in annoyance.

He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. This was the heir of another kingdom, technically an enemy. No matter they were allies, they were completely incompatible. It was the incompatibility, the forbidden nature of this tense air around them that made Leon want to cave in. To let himself become a slave to his instincts and pounce on Kyyre again. He did not.

Leon took in a few unsteady breaths, facing away from Kyyre, shoulders rising and falling rhythmically.

“You should sleep, Kyyre.” His voice was strained as he pushed it out between his gritted teeth, tail giving one weak lash before he stalked his way towards the plush lounge in front of the fire. The flames had been steadily burning away, the crackle the only sound he could focus on now. To distract himself from the creature on his bed.

Sinking into the multitude of pillows, Leon’s lips parted in a sigh. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he anticipated.