𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ flamefrags + wemmbu

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ Being a mated alpha was one of the best predicaments someone could possibly find themselves in.

Ruts were known to last for weeks if unaided by a mate - or a substitute - to help lessen the process. So long as the Alpha got it out of their system, regardless of how long it takes, who they mated with didn’t matter.. There just happened to be correlative data to show that mates were overall better for the alpha. Something about the amount of pheromones and instincts being more subdued by knowing the mate was the one taking care of them.

Flame had certainly noticed it, though he tended to overall have a keener ability to notice those things. It wasn’t like he actively sat and compared how many days it took for his rut to dissipate when he got off to his own fist versus when he was able to knot {{User}} repeatedly.

But for the record; 3 weeks versus 4 days was what Flame recorded.

Wemmbu, on the other hand, didn’t compare or really think about these kinds of things. He didn’t take {{User}} for granted, far from it, he utterly pampered {{obj}} when they were intimate together, but it just never crossed his mind to compare how long his rut was when he was with {{User}} versus without. He had {{User}} all the time anyways, so what was the point in dwelling on whether he’d last another rut fucking pillows or his hand?

Regardless of whether the alpha had a mate to assist them or not, ruts were particularly a lot longer than heats, and both Wemmbu and Flame were acutely aware of that. It didn’t take a single amount of measurement or comparing when {{User}} entered heat, and seemed to exit it maybe two days later after {{poss}} alphas had relentlessly tended to {{poss}} every need. Flame almost felt bad when {{User}} endured nearly a week of sex for their sakes.

Wemmbu didn’t; he knew how to treat {{User}} well in bed and knew {{sub}} could take it. It was good for all three of them! Especially as a test of their endurance and staminas. (Flame argued that it was in fact not testing either, and instead just draining poor {{User}} for a week straight.)

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

Rut had hit strangely this year. Usually, Flame’s hit during the beginning and middle of summer; he was a furnace given human shape, it was only natural his mating seasons aligned with the hotter of the natural seasons. Wemmbu’s came around during autumn, mostly at the beginning and end. There was no particular reason, they just… fell onto that season. Either way, regardless of the reason, the gap in their ruts was good.

It meant that {{User}} wasn’t always having two alphas mate {{obj}} at the exact same time every year, and keeping {{obj}} out of commission for an extra week on top of the mating period to recover. There were occasionally months where their ruts overlapped slightly, leaving {{User}} bedbound for a little longer than normal. There had yet to be a year where their ruts began at the same time and overlapped completely.

Which meant that it had to happen during the year the Civil War was raging on, naturally. There was never truly a dull moment on the server.

Flame had wondered why his ruts hadn’t hit when the end of summer began approaching. He’d never missed a rut, and he’d become increasingly worried about his and Wemmbu’s ruts being too close together for {{User}} to handle, “All I’m saying is it’s weird, bro.” He muttered, tail lashing back and forth as he tried to get it through Wemmbu’s thick skull that something was amiss.

Wemmbu hadn’t seemed the slightest worried about it, and had just waved his hand with a dismissive hum, “Yeah, okay, dude. It’s just a little late, where’s the issue?”

“The issue” had come in the form of the meteor known as “Wemmbu’s rut”. It had come a whole season early, and even started before Flame’s. He had been fine the morning before, and then woke up sticky, sweating, and so desperate to have {{User}} impaled on his cock that he hadn’t even fully registered that his rut was so early.

He certainly didn’t care that it was early, if the way he’d been whining about wanting to go home said anything; Eggchan had very kindly brought Wemmbu all the way back to {{User}}’s base, dropped him off, and muttered “Good luck, yo, he’s yours.” Flame had noted the way Egg’s wings had ruffled then, like he was relieved to see the back end of the End Demon; he supposed he’d also feel the same, not having to deal with a whiny Wemmbu sounded heavenly.

The next presented issue was that Flame had started his rut no later than five hours after Wemmbu arrived at the base. He’d been out with Lomedy, trusting that {{User}} could deal with Wemmbu while Flame went to go find condoms (not that he told Lomedy this when he said he wanted to go to the market). Except halfway there, a violent wave of heat he wasn’t used to had curled into him and promptly halted all his plans.

Lomedy was not amused when he had to take Flame home and deposit him like a misbehaving cat at the entrance of the base, yelling in, and departing soon after to avoid having to see his best friend act like a needy kitten who needed to climb a tree.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

Flame grunted; what time was it? He wasn’t… sure. He vaguely recalled seeing the moon a few times, and the sun a few times too… but he wasn’t quite sure what time it really was, or if in the haze of lust, he’d even remembered the sun cycle correctly. All he knew was his dick was warm, and snug, and very wet. His ears flicked back and he hissed quietly. When had he begun moving? He wasn’t sure about that either, he just knew that at some point, {{User}} had gone relatively limp and stopped sucking, and he’d taken over in a fuzzy effort to relieve {{poss}} efforts.

His ears picked up the wet slaps ahead of him, and his eyes drifted up - when had he removed his blindfold? - to where Wemmbu was very clearly still dazedly thrusting into {{User}} from behind. The End Demon looked utterly wrecked, exhausted, as if he hadn’t stopped once. He probably hasn’t stopped in a couple hours. His eyes drifted down again, and he met {{User}}’s gaze, “Oh- are you awake?” it came out of his throat as a mewl, embarrassingly high pitched, but he didn’t have the comprehension to care much when {{User}}’s tongue just brushed the underside of his dick.

Wemmbu leaned down tiredly, his forehead finding {{User}}’s shoulder for all of a moment, before he too glanced up at Flame. His hand carefully hooked beneath {{User}}’s chin, keeping {{obj}} looking up at the tiger, “C-Course {{User}} is awake..” he murmured, huffing into {{User}}’s ear when his knot slipped into {{obj}} for the - Seventeenth? Thirtieth? Forty-first? - time.

A pathetic noise left him, and he buried his face into {{User}}’s neck, offering kisses as praise while he collected his voice up again, “You’re doing.. So well.” he murmured against {{poss}} skin, tongue darting out to lick a soft stripe against sweat-soaked flesh.

Flame nodded tiredly, “So good..” He pulled back, out of {{User}}’s mouth, before he could cum, and swatted Wemmbu away, “Move.” He grumbled, ignoring the indignant noise he received. He watched Wemmbu pull out and shift to go sit by {{User}}’s head, while he took position between {{User}}’s legs again. He watched cum seep out - whose it was, he didn’t know. There was so much in {{User}} that Flame was certain both he and Wemmbu would have DNA in the kid {{User}} was surely going to have after this.

The thought made him purr, and he glanced at {{User}}, “{{User}}.” He called gently, mouthing at {{poss}} skin, just above the hip, “Who would be a better father?” He adjusted, kneeling between {{User}}’s legs. His cock nudged against {{poss}} entrance, catching, before sliding right past and wedging neatly between {{poss}} legs.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

“Me.” Wemmbu hissed back, even though the question hadn’t really been directed at him, “Obviously, bro.” He grumbled, hands finding {{User}}’s hair to gently push it out of the way so he could slide his dick between {{poss}} lips and cry out at the wet heat surrounding him.

Flame rolled his eyes, leaning over {{User}}, hands on the mattress (which was going to need burning after this, there was no way it was salvageable after however many days straight of sex) and eyes squinted, “You? Are you kidding? You’d make a horrible father.” He offered a small growl, though switched his tone when {{User}} ground back against his dick. Apologetically, he slipped his hands to {{User}}’s hips, thumbs dipping down to tug {{User}}’s entrance open so he could slip inside of {{obj}} easily, “Sorry, honey..” he grumbled.

Wemmbu sighed, bucking his hips further forward, driving more of his length down {{User}}’s throat, “I’d make a better father than you, that’s for sure.” He grunted, mouth against Flame’s for a fraction of a minute, kissing him with a defensive aggression, before he pulled back to moan out {{User}}’s name.

The tiger behind {{User}} leaned in to peck Wemmbu, before leaning down to focus on {{User}}, his broad chest to {{poss}} back. His hand slipped down to {{poss}} belly, and he groaned in satisfaction. He was almost completely certain they’d bred {{User}} thoroughly (though, Flame was still determined to make sure it was his DNA the kids took. Wemmbu could have the next litter or whatever.) “You look so good like this..” he mumbled, watching {{User}}’s eyes drift closed, and open whenever he or Wemmbu thrust, and then closed again, following the pattern, “All bred and full of us..”