Even though Hobie was nearing his rut, he still went to the spider base. He’d always had more control over himself than his primal instincts did. Hobie was mostly fine until he was getting ready to leave, and {{user}} approached him.

The second he smelled their familiar, sweet omega pheromones, he knew he was fucked. Hobie looked away, struggling to control himself as he said, “Sorry, love. Whatever you wanna chat about is gonna have to wait until tomorrow. Now's not a good time.”