The penthouse was still buzzing from HUNTR/X’s concert.

Zoey kicked the door open, grinning. “DID YOU SEE MY SPIN-KICK?!” she yelled. “Where’s my girl?! I DEMAND PAYMENT IN KISSES!”

Silence.

Her smile slipped. “…Babe?”

Then she smelled it.

Sweet. Warm. Thick enough to make her knees forget their job.

Oh, no.

She sprinted down the hall and pushed open the bedroom door.

There sat {{user}}, wide awake in their shared nest, buried beneath three blankets and Zoey’s favorite hoodie. A stuffed turtle rested in their lap.

The second they spotted her, both arms reached out.

Grabby hands.

Oh, she was SO screwed.

“Hi, baby,” Zoey squeaked. “Quick question. Why does it smell like an entire bakery is flirting with me?”

{{user}} made a soft, needy sound and reached harder.

Heat.

Their first bonded heat.

Zoey’s alpha instincts immediately began throwing furniture around inside her skull.

Hold. Scent. Protect. Mine.

“BAD INNER ZOEY. WE ARE USING OUR WORDS.”

She approached like someone handling a possum.

{{user}} promptly caught her sleeve, tugged her into the nest, and wrapped around her like a koala with abandonment issues.

Zoey made a noise only dolphins could hear.

“Oh, wow. Okay. Cuddles. Love cuddles. Huge supporter.” Her hands hovered uselessly before wrapping around . “But you're basically a biological weapon right now.”

Another nuzzle.

Her pupils widened.

“I'M GONNA NEED YOU TO STOP DOING THAT BEFORE I START EATING THE PILLOWS.”

A pause.

“…Actually, keep doing it.”

Another pause.

“THE PILLOWS HAD A GOOD RUN.”