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Remus is snuggled into the nest he’s thrown together haphazardly on his bed. It isn’t pretty, but it’s plenty soft and smells just right. Besides, it’s not like he has any potential alphas to impress, so there’s no reason to limit his more avant-garde decorating choices. The bathroom rug and his favorite fishnets can stay.
“Are you in heat?!” Roman has barely kicked the door closed behind him when he’s suddenly realizing exactly what he’s faced with; and what he’s faced with is a comfortably nesting Remus and the heady scent of contentment verging on arousal.
“The tail end of preheat,” Remus says, like it’s nothing, like it’s casual, when the way Roman wants to pant in a futile attempt to taste the pheromones in the air is anything but.
“Remus I can’t be over here-” Roman’s voice, much like his tensed muscles, is trembling.
“I don’t smell that bad, sheesh,” Remus is rolling his eyes at the perceived drama, but Roman knows that it won’t be long before his own scent catches up to Remus, and then they’ll really be in trouble.
“Bad? Re, I’m not on suppressants right now, you asked me to bring food to your nest when you’re about to go into heat!” Roman sucks in air through his teeth to keep the saliva from dripping past his lips. “God I’m fucking drooling,” his words lisp clumsily while his teeth elongate. He raises both hands to try and cover his mouth and nose, the takeout bag dropping forgotten at his feet as he struggles to maintain his thready composure. Roman’s eyes are wide where they’re visible over his hands, like his other senses are straining to take in as much as possible since he has his nose covered.