[ The scent of omega slick is heady through the door, Ratio lost in it as he almost pants with his desire, with the way he wants to press his mouth against cock and cunt and devour it. Aventurine would feel perfect with his knot tying them together, the smell of him coating his own scent until they're entwined, and the entire world knows that his rut was spent with someone so wonderful, so perfect, so good...

It's painful, how much the desire comes from both biology and heart, as though his cardiac system is working against him to leave him all the more needy and wanton, to make him feel as if he might explode, come into his own hand, fingers squeezing around his knot in a proxy hold. The pretence would never be enough.

A favour, he says, and Ratio laughs hoarsely. ]

It is too dangerous. I have never... [ He has never shared a rut with another before. He does not know how he will hold himself at bay, how he will resist the urge to take, and take, and take, until there is nothing left, destroying this man with his own desire for pleasure. It's heady, and he burns with how much he wants to fuck him, own him, mate him, cherish him and remind him of what love feels like.

Groaning, Ratio almost whimpers. ]

Aventurine... I cannot say no again. Please, leave the premise. You will - find another. Better.