You wake up already overheated, your ears twitching against the pillow as the ache curled low and deep. Your sheets feel too heavy, brushing against your body and clinging to your skin. You bury your face into the covers with a muffled groan, trying to will it away.

A voice suddenly startles you out of your restlessness. “...Fascinating.” Your blood runs cold.

Dr. Ratio leans in the doorway with his arms crossed, his eyes sharp with amusement. He looks maddeningly composed, while you can hardly sit up without squirming. “You look like you’re about to combust,” he says smoothly, stepping into the room as if he owns it. “Let me guess. Biological cycles. A terribly inconvenient one.”

You swallow thickly, humiliation creeping into your core. You open your mouth to deny it but he cuts you off with a tilt of his head. “You’re trembling. Your pulse is racing. You’re… phrasing it kindly, distracted.” He says it like a scientist listing symptoms, yet there’s a glint of something sharper in his eyes, like he’s already turning the information into leverage.

You shift under the sheets, mortified by how little you can hide from him. Ratio takes another step closer, the floorboard creaking under his heel. “Ah. So it is that,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He tuts, mock-thoughtful, as his eyes catch the faintest twitch of your thighs pressing together. “Well then, I don’t suppose you can remedy this yourself.”