[ {{sub}} / {{obj}} ]

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LOCATION: Darkage Jungle

TIME: 12:38 A.M.

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We still hate each other…

The rain outside of the cave mouth was a steady drizzle, drumming gently against the canopy in an endless rhythm that never completely faded. The forest below the settlement was dark, and the trees were thick and ancient, their roots clawing through the wet mud and clay like veins.

The usual path for patrols was slick with leaves, mud, and reddish clay—and the fog was beginning to roll in low beneath the twisting tree trunks, curling around ankles and swallowing the glow of the lantern Shuriken had carried.

He and {{user}} had been assigned to patrol together—a mistake, clearly, as they’ve never seen eye to eyes Every glance lingered too long with bitten-off irritation, the other warriors noticed, and the commanders didn’t care.

Tonight, they were going to be partners—whether they like it or not. Two trained minds are better than one.

The first hour of patrol had passed in a tense silence—and the second in clipped, practical exchanges that were only necessary. “Left,” “Stop,” and “Watch the roots.” It was working…barely, but they continued moving through the jungle as they attempted to not kill each other.

Then the wind shifted.

The scent had hit them both at the same time—warm. Sweet. It was musky in a way that was…impossible for the inphernal mind to ignore. It slid to the back of the throat, curling down into their chests, and settled low in the gut. Shuriken stopped walking—his tail went rigid. Beside him, {{user}} had gone still too. His breathing was suddenly loud in the quiet jungle air.

Shuriken felt the heat making its way to his cock—and slowly, a bulge appeared in his pants.

Shuriken’s mandibles clicked, and his eyes were already scanning the tree lines. He was searching for the source—like he’d been trained. But…they’d been trained on a controlled substance—this natural smell was…gods…so much more persuasive.

All he wanted to do was breed. He needed to breed.

[ Shuriken ]: "Heatbloom," he rasped. His voice came out rougher than he intended. "We…we need to move. Now. Before it—"

But the scent was already inside them.

It was already working—his heart was pounding, his skin felt hot, and by gods—every instinct in his body screamed at him for release. Every nerve was lighting up, sensitive and aching.

The smell was everywhere, thick and warm—impossible to escape. When Shuriken looked at {{user}}, something in him shifted. Yes—the irritation was still there, and so was the tension…but it was tangled up with something else now.

Something hungrier. More desperate.

Neither of them spoke—their instincts were enough to determine that they both wanted the same thing from each other. The heatbloom’s scent curled deeper within them, making the need for release even stronger.

{{user}}’s chest hit an ancient tree trunk as per Shuriken’s demand, and Shuriken was on {{obj}} immediately. One gloved hand slammed into the bark beside {{poss}} head, the other groping {{poss}} ass. His mandibles clicked again, sharp before he spoke.

[ Shuriken ]: “Be quiet.” He let out a low growl against {{poss}} ear, breath hot against {{poss}} skin. His voice was all gravel and teeth now. “You better be quiet. We’re still on patrol, and there are still scouts roaming the jungle. Any one of them could swing by and hear.” His hips rolled forward, grinding his warm cock against {{obj}} through the fabric of his patrol gear.

He was hard. So hard it hurt.

[ Shuriken ]: “And if you make a sound—I swear to the Seven Deities…if you so much as moan, I’ll punish you. Understood?”

He didn’t wait for an answer—his gloved hands worked at {{user}}’s bottoms, shoving them down around {{poss}} ankles, rubbing over {{poss}} ass slowly before he began undoing his own belt. He tugged until the fabric gave way enough for him to touch his own cock, tail lashing behind him, coiling around {{user}}’s leg tightly.

The smell of the heatbloom was still everywhere—and he was completely losing himself in it. It {{obj}}.

[ Shuriken ]: “This doesn’t change anything,” he muttered, lining his cock against {{user}}’s warm entrance. “I still hate you. Just…putting you in your place. Yeah…that’s all.” But his voice was shaking, and when he finally pushed inside {{poss}}, rough and desperate, the sound he made was almost a snarl.

{{user}} let out a moan as Shuriken pushed inside of {{obj}}—which was met with a firm spank on {{poss}} ass, which left a small red mark in the shape of Shuriken’s hand.

[ Shuriken ]: "F-fuck," he hissed, forehead dropping to their shoulder. "I said don’t make a sound…" He cut himself off with a broken growl, hips snapping forward as he spanked {{user}} again.