[tw: implied child abuse, neglect]
Eddie doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. The warm, cozy dark and silence of the den feels stifling now.
"You—" says Eddie.
"I don't—I don't think about it," says Steve. He looks up at Eddie. His eyes are dry. There's a trembling sort of rawness in them.
Eddie doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. The warm, cozy dark and silence of the den feels stifling now.
"You—" says Eddie.
"I don't—I don't think about it," says Steve. He looks up at Eddie. His eyes are dry. There's a trembling sort of rawness in them.
Reposted from
flooth (floor looth) 🔞
[omegaverse]
Despite his track record and Eddie's expectations, it's Steve who brings it up.
It's after Steve's heat has broken. The day afterwards is always lazy and warm, feels sunlit and languid no matter the time of year. They're curled up in his nest, in Eddie's den.
Despite his track record and Eddie's expectations, it's Steve who brings it up.
It's after Steve's heat has broken. The day afterwards is always lazy and warm, feels sunlit and languid no matter the time of year. They're curled up in his nest, in Eddie's den.
Comments
"You can't?" Eddie says. He knows his heartbreak is audible. Wishes it wasn't.
"Something was wrong with me, as a pup," says Steve. "Something. I was sick a lot. I got cold too easy. I'd have night terrors, sometimes.
Eddie doesn't know what to say.
Steve keeps going, voice flat. Inflectionless. "I was an awful pup. Needy, y'know?
"You aren't supposed to do that alone," says Eddie.
Steve blinks at him, looking thrown.
"My parents weren't much for nesting," says Steve, wryly. "Or dens. Y'know, Nancy's was the first den I ever saw?"
Eddie feels a bit nauseous.
"It's nothing," says Steve, dismissively. Eddie wants to stop him from moving on, but there's something stuck in his throat.
"Never?" asks Eddie.
"Not that I remember," says Steve.
"Your parents," says Eddie. "They don't remember?"
"Well. It's not like they were around much.