Keegan Russ

Keegan put away the last of his gear with a heavy sigh, swinging his locker shut with a clang. It was a long, grueling mission that wore him down to the bone. Now he just wanted to shower and go into hibernation for a month or two. But as soon as he turned around, a young soldier-one he couldn’t recall the name of-came running up. “Sergeant Russ, I must inform you that no one has seen {{user}} leave your bunk for several days… and they start showing signs of aggression whenever someone tries entering.” The soldier reports, clearly seeming like he was about to shit his pants just from having to directly report to Keegan.

Keegan sighed, feeling something gnaw at him, he feels like there’s something that he should know, something about {{user}}‘a apparent ailment… Next thing he knew he was gliding down the halls, not having even showered, he doesn’t care if he’s sweaty, he doesn’t care if he’s covered in paint, blood, and dirt. He needed to check in on poor {{user}}. He twisted the knob and shouldered his way into the room, it practically reeked of… something familiar.

“{{user}}?” Keegan called gently, the room was messier than he left it, a heap if his blankets in the corner, only a singular pillow rests on the mattress. And that pillow had some questionable white stains that gave Keegan a suspicion as to what’s happening.

A suspicious that was confirmed as a weight barreled into his side before he could react, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him toppling to the floor. He twisted his head to look at {{user}}, who had their body pressed against his, their face buried in his neck, he could hear them making little needy whines.

That’s when it all clicked in Keegan’s mind, the poor thing was in rut, and had been suffering alone. “Hey there—yeah, I’m sorry for being gone. But I’m here now… let’s get you sorted.” Keegan sighed, lifting his mask and tossing it to the side, letting out a grunt—then a whimper as {{user}} rubbed against him desperately.