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It started with the hoodie.
Not the scent, not the slick, not even the whimpering that would come later in the dark — no, it started with a casual throw of Rio’s old hoodie over the back of a chair, and Agatha slipping it on one morning like it belonged to her.
It drowned her.
The sleeves fell past her wrists, the hem reached her thighs, and the collar hung open just wide enough to reveal the slope of her shoulder. She wasn’t trying to tease. Not really. She just looked so soft in it. Small, somehow, even though Agatha Harkness had never once been small in presence. But wrapped in Rio’s hoodie? She looked curled inward. Cozy. Vulnerable.
And that was when Rio felt the first pull.
The scent didn’t even register at first. Maybe because it was so faint, barely a whisper of sweetness clinging to Agatha’s skin and hair — that warm, spiced undertone that hadn’t been there the week before. Maybe Rio had been too wrapped up in her own head to notice. Maybe it had always been there, lurking, waiting for the right spark.
But once she noticed it, it was everywhere.
On the hoodie. On the couch pillows. Lingering in the kitchen after Agatha passed through, brushing her fingers through her hair and yawning like she wasn’t slowly turning the whole apartment into a scent trap.
By the third day, Rio couldn’t sit in the same room with her without tensing her jaw.
Agatha was oblivious. At first.
She would look up at Rio with those unguarded eyes, big and sleepy and unknowing. She’d shuffle around barefoot, lips parted, cheeks flushed. And every single time Rio thought maybe it was her imagination, Agatha would let out a sound. A hum. A sigh. A little breathy groan as she stretched her arms above her head and cracked something in her spine.
It always sent something tight and dangerous rolling through Rio’s gut.
“Are you okay?” Agatha asked once, cocking her head with genuine concern. “You’ve been acting weird.”
Rio had nearly snapped.
Weird. Right. That’s what it was called when your omega started to go into pre-heat and your body responded like you were already in it with her.
She’d gone for a run that night. A long one.
It didn’t help.
Nothing helped.
Because then came the dreams.
Agatha, sweaty and restless, turning in the sheets at night, her legs kicking them off, her thighs parted. Rio could hear the noises Agatha was making. Not loud, not obvious — just soft noises. Sleepy ones. Whimpers like she was dreaming something that made her ache. She always curled tighter around the pillow when it happened, fists clenched in the fabric, lips parted like she was whispering someone’s name.
Rio lay right beside her.
Wide awake.
Breathing through her mouth just to avoid drowning in the scent spilling from Agatha’s skin like heat off a flame. Every movement, every shift under the blankets, sent a fresh wave of it into the space between them — warm and sweet and needy. It wrapped around Rio’s lungs and tightened something low in her spine.
Agatha mumbled in her sleep again. Her hips rolled subtly under the sheets, seeking friction.
Rio gripped the edge of the mattress.
She didn’t touch her.
Not that night. Not the one after.
She almost did.
Every. Single. Time.
Then on day five, it broke.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Rio walked in from work to find Agatha sitting on the couch, legs folded under her, one hand between her thighs, rocking gently and trying to look normal. Her face was pink. Her lips were red and swollen from being bitten. The hoodie was still on.
But it was wet at the hem.
Her scent hit Rio like a goddamn wave—honey and spice and slick and desperation and Agatha. So much of it. Thick and choking and demanding. Rio didn’t even breathe in all the way and her knees still went weak.
Agatha looked up. Her eyes were glassy. Her lips shiny. “You’re home.”
Rio didn’t move.
She couldn’t.
Not when her rut was clawing its way up her spine, just from that one look. That one voice. That one wrecked little omega on the couch who didn’t even realize what she’d done.
Rio gripped the doorframe.
Agatha blinked slowly. She shifted, as if to stand, but her legs didn’t cooperate. She whimpered, and Rio felt her entire body tighten in response. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
“You—” Agatha started, then bit her lip. “You smell different.”
Rio’s voice broke on the first word. “So do you.”
That was when Agatha’s eyes widened.
Not in fear. Not even embarrassment.
But in something deeper.
Recognition.
She knew. She finally knew.
“Is this—” she whispered, pressing her thighs together, as if that would help anything now. “Is this heat? I thought I’d—have more time.”
Rio’s jaw was clenched so tight it ached. “You don’t.”
Agatha swallowed hard. Her pupils blew wide. “...Does it hurt you too?”
Rio couldn’t lie. Wouldn’t.
“Yes.”
She pushed off the wall. Walked toward her slowly. Carefully. Like she was approaching a cliff’s edge.
Because she was.
“Agatha,” she said softly, crouching in front of the couch, hands clenched into fists at her sides to keep from reaching out. “If I touch you, I won’t be able to stop.”
Agatha’s breath hitched.
And then—quietly, like it cost her something—she whispered, “Then don’t stop.”
Agatha’s voice was barely a whisper.
But Rio felt it like a command or a prayer.
Agatha, flushed and trembling, curled into her hoodie with slick already soaking through the hem, looking at her like she was salvation and destruction wrapped into one. The need in Agatha’s eyes was almost painful to look at. Raw. Open. Vulnerable.
Rio’s body answered before her brain could.
Her hands found Agatha’s knees and gently parted them.
A fresh wave of scent hit her chest like a strike, honey-thick and molten, ripe with pre-heat that had already tipped into something deeper. The kind of heat that curled into your blood and turned logic into smoke.
Agatha gasped softly as Rio’s thumbs traced the inside of her thighs.
“You’re burning,” Rio murmured, eyes locked on her. “You didn’t even notice until it was already too late, did you?”
Agatha blinked slowly. Her pupils were blown wide. “I thought it was just stress,” she breathed. “Or hormones. I—I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
“It’s your first one, with somebody” Rio said, dragging one hand up to rest flat against Agatha’s lower stomach, where her skin twitched under the touch. “Your body doesn’t know how to pace it yet.”
She leaned in, scenting her skin, her neck, the crown of her head. Agatha shivered and tilted instinctively, baring her throat.
It took everything in Rio not to bite her.
Instead, she nosed at the pulse point just below her jaw. “You smell ready.”
Agatha made a wrecked little sound, helpless and small. “You smell worse,” she shot back, but it was breathless, not biting. “God, Rio, I can’t think when you’re like this. You feel like—like you’re inside my head.”
“I’m in rut,” Rio growled, and the admission burned. “You pulled it out of me. That shouldn’t even be possible, not this soon—”
Agatha blinked. “But?”
Rio’s voice went low. “But I walked in and all I could think was, mine.”
Agatha whimpered. Her knees dropped open further, her thighs glossy with slick. “I am yours.”
That was it.
That was the drop.
The last thread of restraint snapped.
Rio surged forward, mouth crashing against Agatha’s throat, kissing and scenting and tasting in desperate rhythm. Her fingers slipped under the hoodie and she found bare skin. No underwear. Nothing beneath.
Her growl was immediate, primal, involuntary.
“You—” She pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, pupils fully blown. “You planned this?”
Agatha flushed. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “Not like this. I just—it was too much. I couldn’t wear anything else. Everything itched.”
Rio groaned and pressed her forehead to Agatha’s. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
Agatha’s voice cracked. “Tell me.”
Rio gritted her teeth.
She could smell her Agatha’s arousal like it was thick in the air. Sweet, wet, pulling. Her own slick had started to build too, but hers wasn’t like Agatha’s. Hers was sharp, hot, edged with rut.
“I can smell you from the hallway,” she muttered, lips brushing Agatha’s cheek. “You leave scent trails wherever you go. You were dripping through my hoodie before you even knew what your body was doing.”
Agatha whimpered.
“I’ve had to sleep with a pillow between us just so I wouldn’t touch you by accident,” Rio continued, kissing her jaw, her neck, the hollow between her collarbones. “And even then you’d roll over in your sleep and wrap yourself around me like I was your favorite toy.”
“I needed you,” Agatha gasped, tilting her hips up toward the contact she still wasn’t getting. “I didn’t understand it—I just needed to be near you.”
“You don’t need near,” Rio said, finally sliding her hand down, parting her folds and groaning at the mess waiting there. “You need this.”
Her fingers sank in with ease.
Agatha’s head fell back.
Her thighs twitched.
And the first real cry escaped her lips — raw and breathless and ruined.
“Fuck—Rio—”
“That’s it,” Rio said, jaw clenched, grinding the heel of her palm against her clit while two fingers thrust deep, curling just right. “Just let me take care of you. Let me—fuck, you’re so wet I can’t even think straight—”
Agatha writhed.
She was soaking the couch. The hoodie. Herself. Rio could feel the slick pooling down her hand, coating her fingers, her knuckles, the wrist of her hoodie.
“I feel—full,” Agatha whimpered. “But not. It’s like—my body’s begging.”
Rio didn’t stop.
“Because it is,” she said, dragging her fingers slowly out just to push back in harder. “Your cunt knows what it wants. You want me to fuck it full, don’t you?”
Agatha’s cry was half a sob. “Yes—yes, I need—God, I need you in me—”
“Not yet,” Rio growled, though her own hips had started to roll with each thrust, chasing friction that didn’t exist. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Agatha grabbed her wrist. “I do.”
Rio’s body sang at the contact.
“I know what I want,” Agatha whispered, pulling Rio forward by her hoodie collar until their mouths brushed again. “I want my alpha.”
Agatha whispered it like it was sacred.
And Rio broke.
Not in pieces — not like glass, but like something ignited. Like the air had changed and her body recognized it before her mind could. That word in Agatha’s mouth did something fatal. Her rut, already coiled in her gut, snapped loose all at once. She surged forward, caught Agatha’s lips in a kiss that was more claim than greeting, and pressed her weight fully over her Agatha’s body like it was the only place she belonged.
Agatha moaned into her mouth, eager, feral, fingers scrambling for purchase.
She clawed at Rio’s hoodie (her hoodie now, the one she’d soaked through) and tugged it over her head with shaky, uncoordinated desperation. It landed on the floor with a soft thud, leaving Agatha completely bare. She didn’t cover herself. Didn’t flinch. She just reached for Rio like she needed to burn with her.
Rio stared down at her. For one breath. Maybe two.
Agatha Harkness, usually sharp-tongued and hard-eyed, lay spread beneath her like she’d been unmade. Her lips were red and kiss-bitten. Her thighs glistened. Her scent was so thick it stuck to Rio’s skin.
And her eyes—God, her eyes—
“I want to be full of you,” Agatha whispered, like she was begging. “Please.”
Rio couldn’t think.
She barely managed to strip off her own clothes, her hands shaking as she shoved off her pants and boxers, her hoodie getting caught around her neck before Agatha tugged it the rest of the way off with a low, “Just get here.”
Their bodies collided like magnets.
Rio didn’t even need to guide herself — her cock slipped through Agatha’s slick folds like it had always belonged there. Hot, swollen, aching from the build of rut and restraint, she rutted against Agatha’s soaked entrance once, twice—
And Agatha nearly cried from the teasing friction.
“Don’t make me wait,” she gasped, heels pressing into the back of Rio’s thighs, trying to drag her closer. “I can’t—I’ll go insane—please—”
Rio held her still, forehead pressed against hers, breath ragged. “If I do this—”
“Do it.”
“I won’t be able to stop—”
“Then don’t.”
Rio thrust forward in one long, slick slide.
Agatha screamed.
The sound tore through Rio’s chest like something holy and brutal. Agatha's cunt clenched around her cock like it was trying to keep her there. Slick spilled out instantly, soaking the base, and Agatha arched hard off the couch with her hands flailing for something to hold onto.
“F-fuck—”
Rio couldn’t move for a second. Could only feel. Agatha was so hot, so tight, her walls spasming in real time around her as her body finally got what it had been begging for.
“You were made for this,” Rio whispered hoarsely, rocking her hips forward again, just slightly — not enough. “You feel—Agatha, you feel so good, you’re—fuck, Agatha, you’re perfect—”
“More,” Agatha whimpered. “Harder. Don’t be gentle.”
That sentence almost ended Rio.
She grabbed Agatha’s hips and slammed forward.
Their rhythm went from controlled to unhinged in seconds. Agatha was already soaked, already wrecked, already arching and trembling with every thrust. Slick squelched between them, pooling beneath her, coating Rio’s thighs. Their bodies met again and again with the sound of wet heat and desperation. No finesse. No restraint.
Just need.
Agatha wrapped her legs around Rio’s waist, ankles locking at the base of her spine. “Don’t pull out,” she gasped, panting hard. “Don’t you fucking dare—”
“I couldn’t if I tried,” Rio growled, rut taking over fully. “You’re holding me so tight I’m gonna lose it, Agatha, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna fill you—”
Agatha’s head tipped back.
“Yes,” she cried. “Do it. Knot me. Fill me up—want to feel it—want to feel your come inside—”
“Fuck, Agatha—”
The pressure in Rio’s gut coiled sharp, fast, and final. Her knot began to swell at the base — too fast, too soon, but she couldn’t help it. Her body was moving on instinct now, pumping into Agatha in short, sharp thrusts, trying to lock them together.
“I can’t hold it,” Rio snarled. “I’m going to—fuck, I’m going to breed you—”
“Yes,” Agatha sobbed, nails clawing at Rio’s back. “Please, Rio—do it—do it now—”
And then Rio snapped.
The knot slid in with force, swelling rapidly until she locked inside Agatha’s desperate heat, and that was all it took.
She came with a sound more animal than human, deep and raw and unfiltered.
Her cock twitched violently inside Agatha’s cunt as she pulsed rope after rope of thick, hot come into her. She buried her face in Agatha’s neck as her hips spasmed. Agatha cried out, nails digging deep as she came too, overwhelmed and full and claimed.
“Oh my God—” Agatha sobbed, clenching around the knot, her body trembling so hard it nearly threw Rio off. “I can feel it— it’s so much—”
“Shhh,” Rio whispered, dazed and breathless, licking at her pulse. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re mine.”
Agatha whimpered again. “Yours.”
The knot swelled fast.
Too fast.
Agatha had barely finished sobbing through her orgasm when it locked into place — thick and brutal and final. The stretch hit all at once, deep and consuming, and her breath stuttered in her throat. Her body clenched around it, reacting before her mind caught up.
“Fuck—” she gasped, back arching into it. “God—Rio—”
Rio groaned through her teeth, her whole body shaking with the force of it. The pressure at the base of her cock expanded fully, stretching Agatha wide and holding them flush together, locked in a heat-forged bind that neither of them would be escaping from any time soon.
Agatha’s cunt twitched around it, wet and overstretched, and Rio felt every flutter.
“I can feel—” Agatha whimpered, eyes wide and unfocused. “You’re still coming.”
“Yeah,” Rio rasped, voice low and blown out. “I’m not gonna stop for a while.”
The heat between them was unbearable. Agatha’s inner thighs were slick and raw, her stomach faintly trembling from how full she was. Come was leaking around the edges of the knot, but the rest? The rest was trapped inside. Hot and thick and impossible to ignore.
It made her squirm.
It made her whimper.
And it made Rio possessive.
She wrapped her arms around Agatha, hauling her closer like she couldn’t stand even a millimeter of distance. One hand slid under her thigh and pressed their hips flush together, driving the knot deeper, sealing the lock completely.
Agatha gasped, her whole body jolting.
“Don’t move,” she choked out. “Oh my god, don’t—fuck, it’s so deep—”
Rio froze, then kissed her shoulder softly. “Sorry. Sorry. I know it’s a lot. Your body’s not used to it yet.”
“I wanted it,” Agatha whispered, voice barely there.
“I know.”
A beat.
“You gave it to me,” she said again, slower. “You knotted me.”
“I did.”
“You filled me.”
“Yes,” Rio said, tightening her grip. “Completely.”
Agatha moaned at the word. Her cunt clenched involuntarily around the knot and they both shuddered.
She buried her face in Rio’s neck. “It’s so much. I can’t even think. I feel like you’re inside my stomach.”
“I am,” Rio said, without shame. “You’re made to take it. And you’re doing so fucking well, Agatha.”
Agatha whimpered, rubbing her cheek against Rio’s throat like she was scenting her. “I can feel it all.”
“I know.”
“Is it supposed to be this—full?”
Rio chuckled, and the sound was wrecked. “You asked me to breed you. This is what that means.”
Agatha trembled. “It won’t—stay in, will it?”
“It will.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “All of it?”
Rio’s pupils were fully dilated again. Her voice dropped. “You’re mine now. You asked me to knot you, Agatha, and I did. You took it. You’re going to keep it. Every drop.”
Agatha’s breathing stuttered.
“You feel that?” Rio whispered, her hips twitching slightly against Agatha’s. “Still twitching. Still pumping you full.”
Agatha groaned and tightened her grip around Rio’s shoulders. “I need you to stop saying that—”
“You don’t.”
Agatha whined — high and needy and wrecked.
“I want to feel it later,” she whispered. “When you finally—when it softens. I want to feel it leak out.”
Rio’s breath hitched hard. “You want to be a mess for me?”
“Yes.”
“You want to feel me dripping out of you while your cunt stays stretched and open?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—”
“Good girl.”
Agatha shuddered. That praise hit her like another wave of heat.
“I’m going to mark you,” Rio said then, softer. “I need to. I have to—Agatha, I have to—”
“Yes.”
The word came out instantly, without hesitation.
Rio didn’t wait.
Her teeth found the juncture between neck and shoulder, and she bit down — hard enough to mark, not enough to break skin. The pressure sent a shock through Agatha’s body. Her cunt clamped down harder around the knot, and another aftershock wracked her.
She cried out into Rio’s hair, overwhelmed and still coming.
Rio groaned against her neck. “You’re mine now. Properly. Everyone will smell it.”
Agatha sobbed. “They better.”
They stayed like that — panting, flushed, sweaty, stuck — for a long time.
Rio’s knot throbbed with every slow pulse of afterglow. Agatha’s body eventually stopped shaking, but she didn’t relax. Not fully. Her hands remained curled in Rio’s hair. Her leg stayed hooked over Rio's waist. Her scent clung to every inch of the room.
They were both stuck in it. This knot. This bond. This claim.
And neither of them wanted to move.
“Can you—” Agatha started, then cut herself off, biting her lip.
“Tell me.”
Her voice was small. “Can you keep going after this? When it softens?”
Rio looked at her, eyes dark. “Yes.”
Agatha nodded slowly. “Good. I don’t want to stop.”
Rio smiled, slow and ruthless. “We’re not done.”
Time passed in pulses.
Their breath slowed. Their heartbeats steadied.
But neither of them moved.
Agatha stayed tangled around Rio, her thigh hooked loosely over her Agatha’s hip, her fingers curled in Rio’s damp hair. Her entire body felt swollen and stretched, too aware of the knot still locked inside her, holding her open and full. Slick clung to her thighs. Rio’s come was hot inside her — still inside her.
“I can still feel it,” she whispered.
Rio hummed against her neck, nose nuzzling the bite mark she'd left.
“Still full?” she asked, lazy and warm, though her voice was rough with rut.
Agatha gave a soft, ruined laugh. “Overflowing.”
“Good.”
“You like that?”
“I love it.”
Agatha’s mouth twitched. “You’re a menace.”
“You asked for a knot,” Rio murmured, kissing her shoulder. “You didn’t specify once.”
“I didn’t think I’d—” Agatha broke off, squirmed a little, and whimpered. “Oh.”
Rio stilled. “What is it?”
“I can feel it,” Agatha said again, voice shaking now. “It’s—it’s softening.”
Rio shifted her hips gently, and Agatha moaned, overstimulated and wide open.
“There it is,” Rio whispered. “Let it happen. Just breathe.”
Agatha did. She exhaled shakily as the knot slowly, slowly began to shrink. The fullness eased, but not all at once — it was a slow drag, a tug against every sensitive nerve inside her.
Then, with a slick, obscene sound, it slipped free.
Agatha gasped. Her hips jerked.
And Rio watched.
Watched as her come poured out.
Thick and hot and messy, it leaked down Agatha’s thighs and onto the cushions below, pooling beneath her. Her cunt stayed open, still twitching, slick and red and ruined from how much she’d taken.
Agatha looked down and whimpered.
“Holy fuck,” she breathed. “It’s—oh my god—”
Rio stroked a hand down her thigh, catching a drop of come and dragging it slowly back up. “You said you wanted to feel it.”
Agatha didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her mouth had fallen open in a silent moan.
“You look beautiful like this,” Rio murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck. “Completely used. Marked. Bred.”
Agatha shivered violently.
“I should clean you up,” Rio whispered.
She didn’t move.
“You’re leaking everywhere,” she added, voice low and teasing.
Still, she didn’t move.
Then Agatha turned her head — slow, flushed, eyes glassy and already hungry again.
“Don’t,” she said.
Rio’s brows lifted. “No?”
“I want it,” Agatha said, voice barely holding together. “I want the mess. I want to feel it.”
She reached down between her own legs and pressed her fingers against her cunt, against the aching, pulsing opening Rio had just emptied into and groaned as slick and come squelched beneath her touch.
“Jesus,” Rio muttered, watching her. “Agatha—”
“I need more.”
Rio’s mouth went dry.
“I need you to do it again,” Agatha whispered, fingers still moving. “Need you to fuck it deeper this time.”
And Rio’s rut snapped right back into place.
She grabbed Agatha by the hips, pinning her underneath, her thighs already spreading again.
“You want to keep it this time?” Rio growled, settling between her legs.
“I want to keep all of it.”
“You want me to stuff you so full it doesn’t leak?”
“Yes—fuck, please—”
“Then get ready.”
This time, Rio didn’t tease.
She lined herself up, already hard again — slick from heat, coated in her own and Agatha’s come — and thrust forward in one deep, brutal slide.
Agatha screamed.
Her body welcomed it. Her cunt clenched like it had missed Rio, like it had only just realized she was gone and now needed everything back — and more. Her hands flew to Rio’s arms, holding on for dear life.
“More,” she sobbed. “Fuck, don’t stop—”
“I won’t.”
This rhythm was different.
Not careful. Not exploratory.
Claiming.
Rio fucked her like she was chasing a bond that hadn’t finished forming the first time. Her cock punched deep with every thrust, the head kissing Agatha’s cervix again and again until her legs shook and her back arched off the couch. She was already making the same sounds she had earlier, but louder now. Hoarse. Broken.
“Look at you,” Rio panted. “Still begging. Still wet. You were made for me.”
“Yes,” Agatha gasped, eyes rolling back. “Yes, yes, yes—”
“Gonna keep going,” Rio growled, “until you’re too full to walk. Until all you can do is lie here leaking and shaking.”
“Please, Rio—”
Rio snapped her hips harder. “Say it again.”
“Rio—fuck, Rio, please, fill me—”
“I’ll knot you again. Tie you down until your body knows it belongs to me.”
“Yes—yes—yours—I’m yours—”
The knot swelled again.
Agatha felt it coming and cried out, hips bucking. She clawed at Rio’s back, begging without words, just sounds — desperate, cracked, pleading, Rio bit her again.
And then it happened.
With one final thrust, the knot popped back in — wider this time, more brutal, the stretch so sudden that Agatha sobbed with the force of it. She went still. Then shuddered violently as Rio spilled into her all over again.
And again.
And again.
This time it was worse. Or better. Or both.
Rio’s cock pulsed endlessly, thick and hot and purposeful. The knot locked tight and sealed everything in. Her come had nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape. It stayed.
Agatha clung to her like she’d drown without it.
“Yours,” she whispered. “Forever.”
Rio kissed her.
And they stayed.
Knoted. Full. Breeding with purpose.
And neither of them ever wanted it to stop.
They didn’t speak at first.
There were no words left — not after everything.
Not after Rio had knotted her again. Not after she'd pulsed another thick load deep into Agatha’s cunt and watched her take it, whimpering and clenching and trembling as her body welcomed it, like it had been made to keep it.
Not after Rio collapsed forward, barely able to hold herself up, rut still buzzing hot beneath her skin even though the edge had finally dulled.
Now, they just breathed.
Rio’s chest was pressed to Agatha’s. Her forehead rested against Agatha’s temple. Her hand was curled protectively over the curve of Agatha’s hip, fingers spread possessively over soft, flushed skin.
And inside?
She was still there.
Still thick. Still swollen. Still locked.
The knot wasn’t budging. Not this time. And Agatha hadn’t even tried to move.
She just laid there — utterly boneless, her limbs thrown open, a sheen of sweat on her flushed skin and a wild, dazed look in her eyes.
She looked ruined.
And she looked happy.
Rio’s throat worked around the words before she said them.
“You’re mine now.”
Agatha’s eyes fluttered open. Her legs twitched around Rio’s waist.
“I was already yours,” she whispered.
Rio’s breath caught.
Agatha turned her head slowly. She was flushed all the way down her chest, her hair damp and tangled against the pillow, her throat marked up in deep red where Rio had bit her — once to claim, again to keep. The scent of it, layered over the room, was undeniable. It screamed one thing to anyone who stepped within five feet.
Claimed.
She smiled, slow and warm. “But now it’s permanent.”
Rio nuzzled her neck, where her mark bloomed dark against soft skin. “No one else will ever touch you.”
“They couldn’t if they tried,” Agatha murmured, arching slightly — a reaction to the pressure still locked inside her. “I can still feel you. Still leaking.”
“You’re not leaking,” Rio said. “Not this time. Not with my knot in you.”
Agatha whimpered softly. “It’s so hot.”
“You’re keeping all of it,” Rio whispered, pressing her palm low on Agatha’s stomach. “Right here. Where it belongs.”
Agatha’s breath hitched.
“I feel… heavy,” she admitted. “And full. And stretched.”
“You are.”
“I want to stay like this.”
Rio kissed her collarbone. “You will.”
They were quiet for a while after that.
The air was warm. The cushions were soaked. Their scents had blended so fully that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Agatha was flushed, dazed, but glowing—and Rio, deep in her second rut of the night, was holding onto her like the only thing anchoring her was the woman she was buried in.
It was Agatha who finally whispered, “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
Rio lifted her head.
“Like what?”
Agatha’s voice was quiet. “Like it’s not just in my body. It’s in my head.”
Rio nodded slowly.
“It is,” she said. “This part… the bonding? It doesn’t just happen in your cunt. It happens everywhere. You feel full because your body’s satisfied. But you feel safe because your mind knows you’ve been claimed.”
Agatha’s lips parted. Her eyes glassed over again.
“You marked me,” she said softly.
“I did.”
“Twice.”
Rio smiled. “Once to claim you. Once to keep you.”
Agatha shivered.
“Your scent’s in my throat now,” Rio added. “I can taste it. You’ll smell like me for days.”
“Good.”
“I’ll bite you again later.”
Agatha made a broken, content noise.
“Was it supposed to be this much?” she asked, after a long silence. “This overwhelming?”
“No,” Rio whispered, running her fingers down the side of Agatha’s face. “It’s never been like this for me.”
Agatha blinked up at her.
“Ever?” she asked.
Rio shook her head. “No one ever pulled me into rut like this before. No one’s ever smelled like you.”
Agatha exhaled slowly. “You said that earlier.”
“I meant it.”
“I’ve never gone into heat like this either,” Agatha said. “It’s never hit this hard. It’s like—like my body knew you were close. Like it was waiting for you.”
Rio pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Maybe it was.”
They kissed slowly. Deeply. Exhausted. Satisfied. But still…
Buzzing.
Agatha whimpered into the kiss when Rio’s hips shifted slightly — not on purpose, not quite — but enough to press the knot deeper for a moment. Her whole body responded. Twitching. Needy.
She broke the kiss with a gasp. “I thought I was done.”
“You’re not.”
Agatha’s eyes fluttered.
“I don’t think I ever will be.”
Rio smiled against her skin.
“We’ll rest,” she whispered. “Let my knot soften again. I’ll clean you up, if you’ll let me.”
Agatha shivered. “Maybe. If I don’t beg you to do it again first.”
Rio licked the mark on her throat and growled softly. “Try me.”
Eventually, Rio’s knot softened again.
Not quickly. Not quietly. Agatha felt every slow, aching second of it — the throb, the stretch, the pull — as it gradually slipped free. Her cunt clenched down even as it left, her body reluctant to release something it had been made to hold.
And when it was gone, when the knot finally eased out with a wet, dragging pop—that’s when she felt it.
The emptiness.
And then, the mess.
Come leaked out of her in a slow, warm flood. Thick and heavy. It spilled from her overstretched entrance, down her thighs, pooling against the slick fabric of the ruined couch. She gasped as it dripped over the curve of her ass, sticky and wet and constant, as if her body still hadn’t finished letting go.
Rio didn’t laugh. Didn’t gloat. She only looked at her.
Then, quietly, “Will you let me clean you up.”
Agatha didn’t answer right away. Her face was flushed, her limbs slack with exhaustion, her body trembling with the aftershocks of too much.
“I can—” she started.
“You won’t,” Rio said softly. “You don’t need to. Let me do this for you.”
There was no edge to it. No dominance. Just quiet insistence. A steadying presence.
Agatha nodded once.
Rio pressed a kiss to her temple before slipping away.
But not before she reached for the throw blanket draped across the back of the couch — soft, worn, one of Agatha’s favorites. With careful hands, she laid it over her, smoothing it down over her shoulders and tucking it lightly around her hips. Her touch lingered at the edge, one last sweep of her knuckles down Agatha’s arm.
“You stay warm,” she murmured. “I’ll be right back.”
And then she left — quiet, purposeful — her absence brief but already missed.
She returned moments later with a bowl of warm water, the softest cloth she could find, and a thick towel draped over one arm. She moved slowly, not out of hesitation, but care — like approaching something precious.
She knelt beside the couch.
Not crouched. Knelt.
Agatha blinked down at her. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Rio said again, her voice low and sure. “Let me take care of you.”
And then she did.
She reached beneath the blanket and gently pulled it back, exposing the flushed skin of Agatha’s thighs and the mess in between. She didn’t look away. Not from the rawness. Not from the slick. Not from the way Agatha was still slowly dripping.
Rio dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out carefully. Her hands moved with the kind of intention that made Agatha’s breath catch — not clinical, not cautious, but loving.
The first pass was featherlight. A soft wipe from the crease of Agatha’s thigh down to her knee, clearing away the worst of it without pressing too deep. Then another. And another.
She didn’t rush.
She cleaned Agatha with the kind of attention that made it feel like something holy.
Her other hand never left Agatha’s skin — always grounded somewhere. On her knee. Her hip. The side of her waist. Her stomach. A constant reminder: you’re here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.
Agatha’s eyes fluttered shut.
Rio cleaned between her legs next, slow and careful, moving around the places that were still too raw, too sore. Every stroke was followed by a kiss — to her thigh, to her hip, to the inside of her knee. Nothing meant to arouse. Just presence. Reverence.
“You’re perfect,” Rio whispered as she worked. “You did so well.”
Agatha’s throat caught.
“You let me in,” Rio continued. “You took all of me. You kept me.”
Agatha nodded, eyes damp. “I did.”
“And now I get to take care of you.”
Rio’s voice never rose above a murmur. Her movements never lost their tenderness. She washed every inch of her. The curve of her stomach. The sticky lines left between her thighs. The dried slick clinging to her skin. She even combed her fingers gently through Agatha’s hair, tucking it back with a tenderness that said I’m still here.
When she was clean, Rio dried her carefully with the towel, blotting gently, never dragging. She warmed the fresh blanket between her hands before wrapping it around Agatha’s shoulders and lifting her up into her arms — not just helping her sit, but holding her.
Carrying her.
And Agatha let her.
She tucked herself into Rio’s chest without hesitation, her cheek pressed to her collarbone. She was quiet. Limp, but trusting.
“You okay?” Rio asked.
Agatha nodded slowly. “More than okay.”
She looked up. “That was—”
“Intimate?” Rio offered softly.
Agatha nodded again. “It felt like you loved me.”
“I do,” Rio said.
There was no pause.
No flinch.
Just truth.
Agatha smiled. Then tucked her head under Rio’s chin, curling deeper into the warmth of her chest.
“I can still feel you,” she whispered. “Not inside. Just… here.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach. To her chest.
“Good,” Rio whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
They sat like that until the sky outside softened, the sharp edge of heat finally dulled into something quiet and glowing. When Rio eventually carried her to bed, Agatha didn’t resist.
And when she fell asleep in her arms — clean, sore, marked, and utterly loved — she didn’t dream of emptiness.
Only warmth.