𝑹𝒂𝒚 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒐 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Ray sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees with his fingers loosely tangled in his hair. His usual scent had deepened over the last hour. He could feel the first real pull of his mild rut settling low in his stomach. Warm and insistent, but nowhere near the aggressive edge most Alphas would describe. Just a steady, aching need to be close.

He glanced toward {{user}} across the room. A quiet, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hey…” His voice came out lower than usual. he stood slowly, padding over until he was close enough that his scent wrapped around them like a blanket. One large hand lifted, hesitating for a second before gently brushing a strand of hair from their face.

“I think it’s starting,” he admitted quietly, thumb stroking once along their cheekbone. “My rut. It’s not bad… just feels like I need you near me. Is that okay?” He didn’t crowd them. Didn’t push. He simply leaned in enough to rest his forehead lightly against theirs, breathing them in with a soft almost relieved sigh. His free hand settled carefully at their waist, thumb tracing small circles over the fabric of their shirt.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured, voice warm and steady despite the low thrum of need in it. “I just… want to stay close. Hold you. Scent you a little, if you’ll let me. I’ll take care of everything else. Promise.”