Without thinking, Adriel cupped his cheek, thumb brushing across flushed skin. His lips found Eren's again—slower this time, but deeper, hungrier, carrying the promise of an alpha who wanted to claim. Eren responded in kind, scent blooming richer as his body leaned into Adriel's, silently begging for more.
Adriel's restraint began to unravel. His hand slipped to Eren's waist, then lower, feeling the warmth of his omega through the thin fabric. Eren gasped at his touch, breath catching, and the sound nearly undid him—his instincts roared to mark, to take, to bind.
"Red…" Adriel groaned against his lips, his voice raw, caught between desire and guilt. He pressed another desperate kiss to Eren's mouth, then to his jaw, then lower, along the curve of his neck. Eren tilted his head back, soft sighs spilling out, scent spiking so sweet it frayed every shred of Adriel's control.
It would be so easy to give in. Too easy.
But then, through the blur of heat and instinct, reality cut through: Eren's delicate condition. The doctor's warnings. The fragile life their reckless passion had already created.
Adriel stilled. His body trembled as he drew in a sharp breath and pulled back, forehead resting against Eren's but refusing to let the kiss go further. His hands shook with the effort of restraint.
"I can't," he whispered hoarsely. His eyes shut tight, as though it took all his strength to stop. "You're carrying our child. If I lose control… if my instincts override me… if I hurt you—"
Eren's eyes softened. His fingers brushed along Adriel's jaw, scent gentling in reassurance.
"You won't," he said quietly. "I trust you."
Adriel opened his eyes then, raw conflict blazing in them—alpha instinct warring with love, with fear. He lifted Eren's hand from his face and kissed his palm, lingering there as though he could draw strength from his scent.
"I love you too much to risk it," he said finally, his voice breaking.
Silence wrapped around them. Eren leaned into him, resting his head against Adriel's chest, his omega scent calm and steadying now. Adriel's arms came around him, holding him tight—not as a lover succumbing to instinct, but as an alpha terrified of losing what he loved most.
And though the fire still smoldered between them, Adriel knew love meant restraint—choosing to protect Eren and the tiny heartbeat he carried, even at the cost of his own desire.
Adriel's breath came ragged, his whole body trembling as he fought for control. But the longer Eren pressed against him, lips swollen, scent spiking sweet and sharp with need, the harder it became. His alpha instincts howled, the first edge of rut breaking through like fire in his veins.
He buried his face against Eren's neck, groaning low, a guttural sound he hardly recognized as his own. His scent poured out heavy, possessive, demanding.
Eren shivered. His omega instincts surged in answer, heat curling deep inside him, body softening, yielding despite the warning in his mind. His own scent bloomed in waves, thick and beckoning, wrapping around Adriel like chains.
"Eren," Adriel growled, voice broken, half-plea, half-command. "You don't know what you're asking for. My rut—"
"I do," Eren whispered, tugging him closer, his nails biting into Adriel's back as his body arched to meet him. His scent carried both vulnerability and boldness, trembling but insistent. "I can't fight this… and neither can you."
Adriel's restraint buckled. Every instinct screamed to claim, to sink deeper into heat and rut and never let go. And when Eren's lips found his again, hungry and unafraid, Adriel stopped trying to hold back.
The world dissolved into instinct—his rut, Eren's heat, two fires colliding, consuming reason until only the primal rhythm of love remained.
Adriel's control frayed with every breath. His scent poured out thick and heady, sharp with rut, until the room itself seemed to vibrate with it. Eren shivered beneath the weight of it, heat unfurling inside him like fire, his own scent blooming sweet and desperate in answer.
"Eren…" Adriel rasped, his voice roughened to something almost unrecognizable, more growl than words. His body shook as if holding back a storm. "If I—if this takes me—"
But Eren's hands clutched at him, dragging him closer, eyes hazy, pupils blown wide. "Then let it," he whispered, his voice trembling, but sure. "I need you, Adriel. I need you."
That plea undid him. Instinct surged, snapping every fragile thread of restraint. Adriel crushed Eren against him, mouth finding his with a hunger that bordered on desperate. Their scents tangled thick in the air, alpha and omega locking into a rhythm older than reason itself.
Eren's body softened against his, yielding instinctively, while his fingers clawed at Adriel's shoulders as if afraid he might let go. Each breath, each touch, stoked the fire higher, heat answering rut, rut devouring heat, until there was no line between them—only the fierce inevitability of what they were.
Even as rut thundered through Adriel's veins, a sliver of him fought to hold on, to remember the fragility of the omega in his arms. His instincts screamed to claim, to bind, to never let go—but beneath the roar came a flicker of fear.
"Eren…" His voice cracked, raw with both need and warning. His hands trembled where they held him, torn between gripping too tight and letting go entirely. "I don't want to hurt you."
Eren tilted his head back, eyes glazed with heat yet clear enough to meet his alpha's. His scent shifted—still rich with want, but gentled now, like a soothing caress. He brushed his lips against Adriel's jaw, soft, deliberate.
"You won't," he whispered, steady in a way that silenced Adriel's panic. "I trust you. Even in rut… I trust you."
Those words broke him more than the heat, more than the kiss. Adriel pressed his forehead against Eren's, gasping as his instincts buckled under the weight of such trust. His rut howled for dominance, but his heart answered with devotion.
The next kiss was still hungry, still primal—but something shifted. It wasn't just rut devouring heat, but a promise threaded through the fire. Every desperate touch carried not only need, but love.
Eren melted into him, pliant yet sure, his body asking, yielding, urging Adriel onward. And in the midst of instinct's storm, Adriel clung to those words—I trust you—using them as anchor, even as he surrendered to the pull neither of them could resist.
The last threads of restraint snapped. Adriel no longer fought the storm inside him—he let it sweep him under, every nerve burning with rut, every instinct roaring for his omega. His scent rolled heavy and unrelenting, saturating the air until it was all Eren could breathe.
And Eren answered. His own scent flared, sweet and molten, pulling Adriel deeper, wrapping around him like a tether that bound them body and soul. His heat sang in every trembling breath, every arch of his body, every desperate clutch of his fingers in Adriel's shirt.
For a heartbeat, their eyes met—Eren's wide and luminous, Adriel's wild and undone. Something passed between them in that look, something more than instinct. Love. Trust. A vow unspoken.
Then there was no space left. No distance. No restraint. Their mouths crashed together, fierce and claiming, a kiss that carried not just want but the inevitable truth of what they were: alpha and omega, rut and heat, locked in a rhythm older than words.
Adriel's hands roamed, possessive and reverent all at once, pulling Eren closer as if trying to fuse them into one. Eren yielded to every touch, his body trembling with heat yet moving with certainty, answering Adriel's urgency with his own.
It was fire consuming them both, but not destruction—consummation. Instincts no longer clashed but harmonized, rut and heat burning in perfect unison until the only thing left was them, bound in a fevered closeness that felt both primal and eternal.
The storm broke slowly, leaving silence in its wake. Adriel's chest heaved, his skin damp, his body still trembling with the remnants of rut. But the fire that had raged so violently just moments before softened into something steadier, quieter.
Eren sagged against him, exhausted but radiant, his scent warm and sated, carrying the soft sweetness of an omega who had given everything and been held through it. His breath came in shallow waves, his head pressed to Adriel's shoulder, his body limp with trust.
Adriel buried his face in Eren's hair, inhaling deeply, grounding himself in the familiar sweetness of him. His alpha instincts still buzzed, restless and protective, but the edge of desperation had passed. What remained was love—aching, fierce, unshakable.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered, voice ragged, hands trembling as he cupped Eren's face, checked him over as though he might break.
Eren's lips curved faintly, eyes heavy-lidded but steady. "No," he murmured. His fingers brushed across Adriel's jaw, featherlight, grounding. "You didn't hurt me. You never will."
Adriel's throat closed, the weight of guilt and fear pressing into him even as relief swelled. He kissed Eren's palm, lingering there, eyes shutting tight. "I almost lost myself," he admitted hoarsely.
"You didn't," Eren said softly. His scent was calm now, serene, wrapping around Adriel like balm. "Even in rut, you held on to me."
Adriel pulled him into his arms, holding him not as an omega claimed in heat, but as the person he loved beyond reason. His embrace was fierce, protective, his lips pressed to Eren's temple.
And though the fire still smoldered low between them, Adriel knew this truth: love was not in surrendering to rut, nor in yielding to heat, but in choosing—again and again—to protect what mattered most.