Shiro:

This writing sample is from an A/B/O AU. It is dated: 12/20/22.

Goosebumps arise on Shiro’s non-prosthetic arm, tiny hairs flitting up to the back of his neck. A distress signal has seen them descending to a planet locked in an ice age, a gigantic blizzard covering everything in heaps of snow. The base had been abandoned when they’d arrived, but the warm food left behind and a disappearing trail of footsteps outside suggest that the victims had fled in a hurry. The group had split up when the tracks had, indicating multiple people were lost in the excursion. The blizzard had grown steadily worse, the flakes of snow falling so thick and continuous that it was nearly impossible to see in front of them.

A varga later sees Katie and Shiro ducking into a small cave to wait out the storm. They’d attempted to call their lions to them only to be met with deafening silence. Something in the planet’s atmosphere or core was interfering with their connection and not even local transmissions were possible with the blizzard at its peak. The only saving grace was their supplies, providing quintants worth of food paste if rationed out and a thin electric blanket to be shared between the two of them.

“Let’s see if I can’t start a fire,” Shiro had said, his tone pleasant to keep up morale. He’d disappeared deeper into the cave in search of anything flammable but had been disappointed to find nothing. No wood or even leaves, nothing of a similar equivalent that might catch fire and provide a little heat. Thirty doboshes later finds him returning to the mouth of the cave where he’d left Katie to work out the logistics of their plan of escape once the blizzard has swept through. It’s only then that the first inkling that something might be going awry begins to trickle into his consciousness.

The faintest scent of pine, of maple syrup and clean linen, tickles his nose. He sniffs just once, takes a deep drag of it if only to try and place what it is, and feels his mouth fill with saliva. His dick immediately perks up, stirring and stiffening, much to his alarm. That hasn’t happened involuntarily in deca-phoebs. It takes him a handful of confused ticks to realize that the scent is coming from Katie, wafting off of her in increasingly bigger clouds that grow more concentrated by the dobash. “Pidge?” Shiro strangles out, squinting at the shadowy outline of her body. It’s dark, the only source of light coming from the entrance of the cave.

Think of all of your worst failures. Think of Zarkon, of your time in the gladiator ring. Anything to tamp down on the restless arousal rearing inside of me. Shiro takes a deep, shaky breath, but he can taste Kate’s scent, and even reminding himself of her age or the nature of their relationship isn’t helping the way Shiro thought it would. He’s come across Omegas in heat before, has helped them through it on a few notable occasions, but never has he been so affected. It feels like her scent has dug its claws into him and gripped him like a leach refusing to let go.

Why is this so different from his past experiences? Shiro wants nothing more than to close the gap between them, to sprawl her on the cave floor and strip her of her armor. He wants to bury himself in her body and feel the wet heat of her arousal, the flat rub of her nipples against his chest. He doesn’t, refuses to put his hands on the little girl he’s thought of as family, but it’s a struggle. He’s better than this, Shiro reminds himself. Of course, he’s had urges, but they were simple enough to suppress. All the whining about lacking control had always felt like an excuse to him, but if it felt this every time, Shiro thinks he’s beginning to understand why there’s always been such an uproar.

Huddling at the far corner of the cave, his limb trembling with the strain of not flying across the room to engorge himself on Katie, Shiro lowers himself to the floor. He sits uncomfortably, his hands tightened into clenched fists that bruise his thighs from the force he’s digging them in with. I can do this, he tells himself, a muscle in his jaw ticking. We just need to wait out the storm. How long could that be? Not more than a few vargas. “Tell me you’ve come up with a way out here,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

Header Art by MintyStxPro. | Background Art by Tenshiikisu.

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