Binary Love (18+)

Epilogue *NSFW*

It had been a while since Nova had come off her contraception, but in the last week she had noticed Mark's behaviour changing.

He was still loving and affectionate, but she had caught him a few times rubbing against furniture and preferring to spend evenings in instead of seeing friends. At first, she didn't think anything of it, until she found him writhing on their bed tangled up in bedsheets and blankets.

Rosalind had warned her to look out for this. He was in the early stages of rut; while a human couldn't pick up the subtle scent changes signalling ovulation, a Lupus could. Poor Mark was being driven to scent mark the entire workshop and was pumping out pheromones to try to trigger her into a heat.

But humans didn't have heats.

Nova didn't think it would be a big deal, until Rosalind had sat her down in the cantina to explain things over drinks.

"It gets bigger," Nova hissed across the table, hoping that the music was drowning out their conversation from the species with more adept hearing.

"Only during their rut." Rosalind casually sipped her wine, occasionally checking her comm just in case Harou messaged her while he was looking after the twins. "While you won't go into heat, taking in his pheromones in the build up will help somewhat."

"How are you so calm about this?" Nova didn't hugely want to go into details about her sex life with Rosalind, but she was tiny compared to Mark. She literally could barely take his knot as it was, let alone bigger.

"You should be fine if you take it slow and make sure to really soak in his scent for the days leading up to it." Her friend merely shrugged one shoulder and gave a sympathetic half smile. "All the research I've found seems to imply that they never go into full rut if their human mate isn't ready - sometimes it's triggered by other factors, but that's rare. There are some products on the market to help if you're still worried."

That's how she had ended up lurking in her bedroom with a bottle of a suspicious oil-like substance like a weirdo. In panicked desperation she had contacted Berkley, who had tried to be helpful but had sent her things that were out right horrifying. Frankly, in Nova's opinion, they all needed to be spaced.

In the end, Nyx had sent her a corked glass bottle filled with an oily liquid. It looked like something old - maybe even hand made - with an aged paper label tied onto the bottles neck with rustic string. Scribbled words had been hastily written in black ink. No translation. No explanation. All Nyx had said in her message was: "Don't ask questions. You wouldn't believe me anyway."

Utterly reassuring, really.

Tentatively dabbing a little of the scentless oil onto her fingers tips, she rubbed them together, feeling them slide effortlessly across. There was a soft tingle across her skin, but nothing uncomfortable. Apparently, the oil would help her stretch, but she frankly didn't see how that could work. The extra lubrication would help, so even if it was a load of nonsense, she could still use it.

Plus, there was no way she was going to let those other items from Berkley near her, so...

Biting her lip, Nova felt herself get a little flustered. She had been horny all day, but had avoided Mark until she could have a chance to try this out first. In the last couple of days, he had changed to only using his fingers or mouth, watching her come apart under his calculating gaze. There had been a shift in how he watched her now; something in his eyes told her that it would be soon.

She knew what he was doing. The sneaky bastard was building up the tension before the fall. Slowly stretching her out. But, frankly, she didn't fucking care. Because when she came around his fingers in the middle of the night, he would whisper in her ear about his love for her. His desire for her. Then, in his husky voice, he told her every dirty detail of what they would do when she was ready.