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By the time the first day of the break rolled around, Ishir had accepted he wasn’t going to be leaving the apartment until Zee’s rut was over. Not unless Zee came to his senses and realised he didn’t want Ishir after all.
Zee was making a ruckus in the kitchen as Ishir stretched out on the couch dressed comfortably in sweats and an old, threadbare shirt. He was staring hazily at the TV when Zee appeared in front of him suddenly, placing a green smoothie on the coffee table.
“Drink,” Zee said.
Ishir considered saying he wasn’t hungry, but the argument wasn’t worth the effort.
He sat up with a sigh, unsurprised that Zee settled himself right beside him, thighs squished together. He picked up the drink and took a sip.
“It’s good,” Ishir complimented, amused and fond at the way Zee’s face lit up with satisfaction.
“I made it how you like it.”
“Yeah. Well done.”
Zee’s chest puffed out as if he’d hunted something for Ishir and dragged it home.
Better not say that thought out loud and give Zee any crazy ideas.
Ishir drank the offering obediently. Zee snatched the glass from his hand the second he was done, set it aside, and then pushed Ishir down onto the cushions.
Zee faceplanted into his neck, taking a long pull of air. “You don’t smell enough like me,” he complained.
Ishir rubbed a hand across Zee’s back. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Youdon’t. Take this shirt off.” Zee didn’t wait for Ishir to acquiesce, taking it off himself.
Ishir let himself be manhandled, unable to lie to himself and say he wasn’t enjoying Zee’s little caveman persona.
“Yeah,” Zee grunted, sounding pleased, and proceeded to scent Ishir with a savage sort of thoroughness.
Zee began by rubbing his smooth cheek against Ishir’s, fingers threading into Ishir’s hair, massaging his scalp. Ishir moaned, tingling pleasantly, and Zee moved south to his shoulders, his collarbones, his chest.
Zee bit his nipples, making him shudder, sides jumping as he was nosed there, twitching when Zee lifted his arms.
“Hey,” Ishir protested lightly as Zee buried himself in his armpits. Sure, he’d showered that morning, but it still felt a little weird.
Zee obviously didn’t give a fuck, digging his teeth into Ishir’s biceps when Ishir tried to resist. “Stop moving,” he barked out.
Ishir stopped moving. He wrapped his legs around Zee and let himself be smothered, goosebumps rising as Zee rubbed himself everywhere.
“This is how you should always smell,” Zee said eventually.
Ishir realised he was panting, breath stuttering and choking as Zee finally made it to Ishir’s neck. Zee dragged the flat of his tongue from shoulder to chin, lapping over his scent gland, making sparks burn behind his eyes.
“You smell so good,” Zee groaned and then, tone changing completely, “You’ve done this before.”
“No,” Ishir said, assuming Zee was referring to this brutal scenting.
Zee pulled away, glaring at him. “Yes. With Carl.”
“Oh, you mean spend a rut with someone? Uh…yeah.”
Zee looked as if he were debating between staying where he was and running out the door to hunt Carl down. “I’ve never spent my rut with anyone.”
Ishir had known that. Or had guessed, at least. “I haven’t shared my rut with anyone, either.”
Zee was breathing heavily. His eyes were all pupil. “I don’t want you to think of him.”
