Drasus

Idon't know what I can do to make up for injuring my pretty Coral. I also don't quite know what to do with the fact the platter is pressing on my pouch and my cock is harder than a tritanian dagger which has been forged and reforged.

Coral tells me about a bear, a creature from her planet which for some reason humans have made up all sorts of strange tales around. They have sore heads, they do things in forests, and apparently they also eat humans.

Despite the meal in front of me, there is only one thing I can think about eating.

Coral.

This is wrong. I cannot be in rut for her.

And yet, my mating gland stings in my neck, my scales itch like a nevver, my hips are desperate to twitch, and given what my cock wants, this can only be the rut.

It's absolutely the last thing I need. I have to prove myself to Draco, Draxx, and Drega. I need to be involved in the Golden Orion finally taking to space again. I worked hard on installing the hardware and software which will allow the ship to use the star map.

And we still have to find the key to the map.

Rutting is not a priority. It can't be. I simply cannot lose my mind over a female, especially one as fragrant and…

"Drasus?" Coral draws my attention back to the life I currently lead. The one confined to quarters, unable to perform my functions as a warrior.

She's frowning at me, shifts farther forward on my bed, and leans in close, her little fingers pinching open one of my eyes, which she studies carefully.

"Drega told me the drops were mild painkillers. They shouldn't be having any sort of narcotic eff-"

Her voice is cut off as I press my lips to hers, my fingers tipping her chin up so I can ensure she is entirely captured. My tongue slips into her mouth, and I find myself groaning at the mere taste of her.

She is nectar, perfection. She is untouched.

And she is mine.

The rut roars through me, the mating gland pumping the mix into my veins, and it is glorious.

At least until she pulls away from me, her eyes blinking, heavy lidded. Until she gasps.

"No, I can't do this. We can't do this."

And she's off the bed, running through into the other part of the clinic until I hear the door close behind her.

Rut or not, my legs are not prepared to move as fast as the time I thought she was injured. I put the platter to one side and swing them over the edge of the bed, while I snag another piece of meat. My body feels less like I've been plowed into the ground after one of the Sarkarnii games which we held every three evs on our home planet.

For once, my flight lungs are not burning at me. Instead the most problematic part of my body is my cock. It's harder than it's ever been in my entire life, and I am no stranger to self-care. The nevving tip is pushing at my pouch and already flowing with pre-cum. I stand, legs wobbly, and adjust myself, biting back a groan at the touch.

I need to find my female. I have to ensure no other male stakes a claim on her before me. I snatch a few more pieces of roast tralu from the platter and cram them into my mouth as I make my unsteady way across my room and out into the clinic.

Drega is sorting through a bundle of what looks like rags, a frown on his face. The noise I release is somewhere between a feral Sarkarnii and a colossusbeast.

"If you rut for her, you might need to take it easy for a while," Drega says without looking up, even at the sound. "The rut has, shall we say, interesting properties, possibly healing ones, if the return of Daeos' fire is anything to go by, but you're aware of the other issues it poses, I presume."

"Mine." It seems to be the only word I can push through a fang-filled mouth.

"I am a mated male," Drega says with forced evenness. "The female is yours."

I grunt in acquiescence. I can smell the female on him, and it is not Coral.

"I need her."

"Yes, you do." Drega turns to face me. "But she must want you as well, and given she ran out a few seccarii ago, I believe you might need to give her some time."

Pain spears through my chest. I grab at it, nearly falling as Drega catches me like a sarkarnling.

"Easy, old friend," he says. "No one else will touch her. She'll come back when she's ready."

The anger is worse than the pain. Anger at my body for failing me, for not allowing me to go to my female, to claim her, to sheath myself in her. Anger at the Belek for putting me in this position. Anger at the ancestors for offering me fate and snatching it away.

"And you will recover. You just have to give it time," Drega adds as he puts me back into bed.

"We don't have time or space for a useless warrior," I growl at him. "You may as well overdose me on paraxio and be done with me."

Drega dumps the platter on my lap. "Don't tempt me, Drasus," he retorts with a curl of smoke and a few embers. "Coral brought you back from the brink, and I'm nevved if I'm going to do anything but keep you alive."

He stomps out, leaving me to my thoughts and my meal. Neither of which are appealing in the slightest.

Not while I have a female I cannot reach and a rut raging in my veins.