Niro grabbed Theory’s wrists, the impact resonating up Theory’s arms, grounding him momentarily in the reality of their struggle.

But Theory was beyond reason, his screams filling the room, raw and ragged. His body was a livewire, jerking violently as he tried to escape Niro’s hold. The fever raged on, sweat beading on his forehead, his hair plastered to his skin.

They grappled, their struggle a dance of conflicting needs. Theory’s knees buckled as another wave of heat-induced dizziness washed over him. He crashed into the nightstand, the sharp corner digging into his side, a brief flash of pain that was quickly swallowed by the relentless fever.

Niro’s grip tightened, not in anger but in a desperate attempt to still the chaos, having the Carrier pressed against the wall, cheek firm against the wood. Theory’s breath came in sobs, his body convulsing with tremors. He felt the very fabric of his self-control unraveling, each thread pulled loose by the intensity of his heat, made worse by the Breeder pressed against his back.

“Stop this... I can’t...” The words choked out of Theory, half-sob, half-scream. His body convulsed, shivers wracking him with such intensity that each tremor was a crack in the dam holding back his sanity.

“Please,” he gasped, the word torn from the depths of his delirium. “Make it stop.”

Niro’s hold became a cradle, his arms wrapping around Theory’s trembling form, no longer the opponent but a pillar amidst the quake. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, a quiet vow in the eye of the storm, “I won’t let go.”

Theory’s cries echoed off the walls, the sound of a man battling his own nature, caught in the vise of his most basic instincts and the undeniable hatred for the one who offered him an anchor in the furor.

            He didn’t want Niro to have him. He was the enemy. Theory knew this in his bones, it’s why they cried out in protest, but the Carrier instincts couldn’t deny the presence of a strong Breeder.

            A Breeder that could keep him safe.

            “Don’t touch me,” Theory whispered. “Please, I don’t want this. I don’t want to be taken like this.”

            He hated himself for having to beg, but what else could he do? He didn’t have any control over his body, he was completely at the Breeder’s mercy.

            “I will not,” Niro said softly. A tone Theory hadn’t thought him capable of, much less for him.

            Theory could feel the whisps of Niro’s hair brushing along the nape of his neck while the gentle heat of his breaths caressed the sensitive skin. 

“You are safe, Theory.”

Theory’s chin wobbled and knees buckled. Those words meant everything to him and yet the most important ones were missing. 

What did he actually want?

No, he knew the answer to that. He wanted to be fucked. He wanted to be protected. He wanted a Breeder to take control because Theory no longer had a grasp on it. But most of all, he wanted the heat to end. 

“Theory…I will not take you against your will, but…I will help you with your needs.”

Theory stiffened in Niro’s hold, uncomfortable with the possibility of what could happen. He was in his most fertile period, he wanted absolutely no possibility of conceiving with Niro.

So why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he refuse? Why didn’t he push Niro’s hands away when they slipped from the stony grip to a loving caress down his arms, around his waist? And there was ample opportunity given to back away, to say no. Niro had given that to him, his way of asking for consent. 

But Theory didn’t want him to stop. 

Of course, those tender touches didn’t last long. It wasn’t in Niro’s nature to be gentle and it wasn’t in Theory’s to want that either. In a way that mirrored the tumultuous relatiohship they shared, their touches became near violent. 

Niro spun Theory around, gripping his neck with bruising strength, forcing the Carrier to look him in the eye. Each time Theory’s head jerked, trying to see what Niro was doing when he felt his belt loosen and the ties to his trousers get yanked undone, the fingers digging into his neck tightened. 

Not once did Niro’s eyes leave his. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, because it felt like something dark would be unleashed. 

This close, Theory saw it. That something that lurked. It flashed in the depths of that one red eye. Glowing. Hungry. 

Theory's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as Niro pinned him, the large, calloused hand pressing unyieldingly against the back of his neck. The weight of him was both a prison and a startling anchor to the reality that Theory was fighting to escape. A command carved in the language of flesh and bone that demanded his attention, his awareness. Pinned in place, a primal part of him—the part that had learned to be still, to be silent, to survive—obeyed without thought, without the need for comprehension.

Forced to meet Niro's gaze, Theory's eyes—bright, glowing amber—fixated on the peculiar dichotomy within Niro’s. His green eye held a glint of concern, a soldier's focus, but it was the red eye that captured Theory's fractured attention. There was a darkness, a shadow that stirred with its own volition. It was not the dark of a moonless night, but something living, something active and aware. It was hunger and danger incarnate, an entity that seemed to pulse with a hunger that was both foreign and eerily intimate. It was the same darkness that lurked in the corners of the room when the candle’s flame flickered and died, the same darkness that lay in the depth of the forest where the light of the sun dared not penetrate. It was a dangerous abyss, flickering with an inner fire that spoke of untold stories, of violence and passion that had nothing to do with the heat scorching Theory's veins.

What lurked behind that crimson gaze? Theory could feel the weight of it, a presence in the room as tangible as the sweat that drenched his skin. Was it a secret, a piece of a puzzle that was Niro himself—a fragment of soul or spirit that was as much a part of him as his breath and blood? Or was it something else, something that had found a home within the warrior's flesh, an invader that had woven itself into the tapestry of his being? Maybe a beast cloaked in shadow, a specter of something ancient and wild that stirred within Niro, barely held at bay by the male's iron will.

The fever raging within Theory twisted his perception, and for a moment, he felt as if he were staring not into the eye of a man, but into the maw of a ravenous creature. It unnerved him, this feeling of being prey, and yet, it was not terror that it inspired, but an odd, wrenching curiosity. What had Niro seen, what had he done, to cage such darkness within himself?

As Niro's grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to reaffirm the captivity of his hold, Theory felt the edges of his world blur. His instincts screamed at him, a cacophony of fear and desire that drowned out the silent questions. Yet, through the tumult, his mind raced, cycling through memories and lore, trying to piece together the nature of the enigma that held him—not just physically, but also with the gravity of the unknown. For the first time, he wondered what stories lay behind Niro's silent façade, what battles had honed the warrior’s soul to such an edge that even the darkness within him dared not cross?

And in that moment of forced intimacy, with the fever burning away all pretense, Theory could not avert his gaze, could not stop the shiver of intrigue that traced the lines of his spine. The darkness in Niro's red eye beckoned, and Theory, against all better judgment, found himself leaning into the abyss, desperate to understand the enigma that was Niro, even as his own body betrayed him to the heat.

Theory, caught in the grip of his fever and the looming onset of his heat, found his usual resolve melting away, his thoughts fracturing under the weight of an insatiable curiosity and a rising tide of something far more ancient and instinctual.

The tearing of fabric echoed in the charged silence and yet Theory was still helplessly trapped. Unable to move his head as the coolness of the air touched his exposed skin as his trousers dipped down his thighs. 

Niro growled low in his throat, gaze still ensaring the Carrier as he roughly grasped the freed cock that wept with need. 

Theory whimpered with each aggressive stroke. The wet sounds of slick flesh and pleasure joined the soft sobs and needy mewls. 

“Veniro,” Theory croaked, not understanding why he said his name. 

Niro yanked Theory forward with one hand until their faces were inches apart. Breath could not escape the distance between them, swallowed up with each inhale. Theory took Niro into him as Niro did the same. 

Faster, Niro stroked him, stoked the fire until he was burning, everywhere. 

Panting in eachother’s faces, stealing eachother’s breaths, unable to tear their eyes away, it was a moment more intimate than Theory had ever felt with another person. Smoke curled around them, enveloping the moment with a filmy haze. 

“Veniro,” Theory whispered again. Tears and saliva dripping down his face, and still he couldn’t look away. 

Not even when the green eye bled to red and the Breeder’s gaze became too bright to handle. 

Niro squeezed Theory’s cock roughly before sliding lower, beneath the nestle of his balls, until he found the slick soaked hole that burned like hot lava. 

With one vicious penetration and one low, guttural command, “Come.”

Theory exploded.

All the strength left him with that release, causing him to fall against Niro, limp. The Breeder caught him with ease, finally forced to release him from the ironlike hold. He lifted Theory into his arms, before depositing him on the bed with care. 

Slowly and efficiently, he removed the tangled mess of Theory’s trousers, followed by the rest of his clothes. 

Boneless and floaty, Theory watched him do it, thankful that Niro did not remove his own clothes. 

The Breeder crawled onto the bed with an uncomfortable mattress and scratchy sheets, cradling Theory from behind. 

It was strange. This behavior was so unlike what Theory was used to. He hadn’t even known the Breeder could be this considerate and kind. 

Was it from experience? Did he often help Carriers through their heats? Was he just another Carrier in Niro’s eyes?

Well, of course Theory knew the answer to that. 

He was. And he always will be nothing more than that. 

Why did he even care? 

Even laying here, in this tiny room, covered in Theory’s spend, in a lover’s embrace, it meant nothing. 

“Relax, it’s not over,” Niro mumurmed from behind. His arm wrapped tightly Theory’s waist while the other supported the Carrier’s head so it didn’t rest on the uncomfortable pillow. 

Theory melted into him, the haze of the heat in full control, only uttering a small moan when Niro’s hand crept from his stomach, past his cock, to his leaking entrance again. 

With languid slowness, Niro slid two fingers inside, unaffected by the heat that would burn any other Shifter’s flesh to the bone. 

It wasn’t something either of them had to worry about since they both had an affinity for fire. 

Niro released a breath filled with smoke. It washsed over Theory’s face, settling him in a way he didn’t know possible. Something in that gesture spoke to the Carrier instincts within him, relieving them, reassuring them, that a Breeder had decided to take care of him. 

Theory’s hips moved, a gentle roll and circle that ensured Niro reached all the delicate spots in him.

It wasn’t until one particularly aggressive push of his hips that he felt the stiff length push against him from behind. 

Theory froze, reality seeming to find it’s way through the haze. 

“Sh, don’t worry. I will not take you,” Niro whispered before curling his fingers in a way that made Theory see stars. 

For horas on end, Niro made him ignite, over and over without ever relieving himself, until Theory had passed out. 

Even with his mind fading to unconsciousness, Theory couldn’t stop the shame and the tears that followed him.