Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A few more pillows in that corner, a bit more backing to the wall there…

You look over the structure, trying to find something else that needs fixing before you can consider it good enough for the purpose you have for it today.

To both your delight and dismay, you can’t find anything to improve.
For better or worse it seems it will have to do.

You know you have been stalling just as much as you’ve felt the need to have it be perfect.

Really, it’s been a long time since you’ve been so fussy over it. But then again, besides a few odd instances with Boniface in the aftermath of Siffrin losing their eye…

You haven’t invited anyone to your nest since your sire.

It always felt too personal to invite anyone in, even briefly. Boniface really only managed due to being a fledgling.

But that’s changing today.

Because you intend to invite Siffrin in it today, so that you can hopefully finally thoroughly preen and scent them, and maybe even have them scent you back even if purely to just get into the practice of it.

It’s been a while since your instincts have been at such a war with the rest of you. The rest of you still hesitant and reluctant to let anyone past the walls you’re so used to upholding, to keep acting as ‘polite company’ would require of you in Ka Bue. Instincts clamoring at you to drag your resident feral cat to be shown the affection they deserve and desperately need, begging you to sing love, care, protection… and possessiveness.

For once, you intend to listen to your instincts in full.

You refuse to run away from this.

It’s time to start fixing the damage your well-meaning intentions did.

With a heavy sigh and a single self-soothing twitter, you leave your room at the inn and go to knock on the one Isabeau and Siffrin have been sharing.

Your flock hadn’t stayed in Dormont for any longer than absolutely necessary after the events surrounding the King’s defeat. Even if ideally, you would have stayed long enough for Siffrin to completely recover from the Craft Exhaustion, you had all quickly understood that they desperately needed a change in scenery.

Even if they had escaped the loops, Dormont had simply been too filled with things that reminded them of the ordeal.

So, you stayed only long enough to make sure they wouldn’t deteriorate on the ride to the nearest new town and then hitched a ride on one of the wagons of extra supplies getting delivered to help the newly freed towns get back on their feet.

And then, at your insistence, took advantage of your status as the Saviours of Vaugarde to get a few rooms at the local inn for the duration of Siffrin’s physical recovery and a bit extra so they could have some time to finally breathe before you hit the road again towards Bambouche to re-unite Boniface with their sister.

Though you know for a fact Mirabelle has been insistently lending a hand where she can, absolutely loathing the idea of being given so much entirely for free.

It’s endearing as much as you wish she would learn to be a little more selfish, just to make things easier for herself.

You’re digressing.

Thankfully, before your nerves can do their best to turn your attention to anything else, or make you click in a frankly embarrassing fashion, Siffrin opens the door to the shared room.

“Odile?”, Siffrin seems surprised by your presence.

Which is fair, considering you had told the others that you intended to spend the entirety of today at the inn, which usually for you would have meant indulging in time just by yourself.

But between just you and Isabeau, you had asked him to keep Siffrin occupied until you were ready to enact your… plan.

The way he had looked at you and stifled a rumbling whine gave the impression he wasn’t quite sure whether to be jealous you intended to be the first to do this, or infuriatingly proud of you for taking the initiative with it.

Considering he had then demanded he gets to be the next one with a few barks of ‘mine, mine, flock bonding, flock bonding!!!’ you would like to think jealousy had won out but the grin said otherwise.

…

And Siffrin is staring at you with concern and nervousness because you’ve just been standing there staring at them.

Gems.

Get it together Odile.

You can see Isabeau smirking in an aggravatingly knowing fashion in the background and that-

Well that just won’t do, will it?

“My apologies Siffrin, I got a bit lost in thought there. I was wondering if you would join me in my room for a bit? There’s something I’d like to do that… requires your company. Provided that Isabeau can bear being apart from you for that long without withering away, of course”, you keep your voice steady and clear, unwilling to let it waver with your nerves, letting your secondary voice trill and whistle ‘flock bonding time, scent you, preen you, mine, love you, make you all pretty, pretty for flock, pretty for your suitor’, instead letting your mouth quirk into a small smirk of your own, looking pointedly at the lovestruck fool.

Isabeau sputters, smirk falling from his face as he flusters.

Siffrin blushes in a frankly adorable fashion as well, despite being unable to understand exactly what you just called Isabeau.

“U-uh-! W-well I’d like! To! Help! Um-! Isa…?”, their voice becomes a high-pitched squeak by the end.

“Y-yeah! You can- you can go help her out! We can finish this later”, Isabeau coughs, voice high and strained, looking anywhere else but you even as his secondary voice absolutely betrays him, happily barking ‘court, court, gratitude, thank you for approving, love, love you both’.

Hah!

Victory is yours once more.

You step back to let Siffrin step out of the room and close the door behind himself, as he jerks his head in a nod a few times, before leading them back to your room, hesitating at the door for a second before pushing forward.

Siffrin steps inside hesitantly as you hold the door open for them, stepping inside after them and promptly locking the door after yourself.

Siffrin shifts to look at you nervously.

“…is this another interrogation about the loops?”, they ask hesitantly.

You blink.

Another interrogation about the-

He thinks you asked them here to ask for more details about the loops to keep in mind?

…

Gems, you’re not doing this right.

You breathe in deep and let the air rush out in a long sigh, not letting yourself silence the whistling ‘sorry, sorry, you’re safe, I will protect, I mean no harm’ even though you know he can’t decipher the exact meaning, imagining you’re expelling your own accursed nerves with it.

You need to get used to letting yourself be more vocal in your secondary voice, like you were before you too were taught to stifle it. Polite company… what use is polite company if it leaves your flock questioning your commitment and care, what use is the variety of calls you have at your disposal if you’re not allowed to use them to communicate when speaking it in words is considered too much?

“No, I didn’t ask you here to talk about the loops again. Unless there’s something you specifically want to talk about or it becomes particularly relevant to what I have in mind, you won’t have to talk about them today. That’s not what today is about”, you assure them.

They look confused, but you can seem them relax a little. Good.

Not letting yourself stall anymore than you already have, you make your way over to your nest and climb in. Patting the space in front of you once you’ve settled yourself comfortably, letting out a long whistle of invitation, of ‘come here, join me, share my nest’.

Siffrin stares at you, seemingly unable to comprehend what you’re asking from purely body language.

…asking aloud it is, you suppose.

“Siffrin”, you sigh, “…come join me in the nest?”

The sharp inhale of air is loud in your ears with how hyper-focused your senses are to them right now.

“B-but… Odile that’s- that’s your nest…?”, their voice wavers, disbelief and a fearful longing hope mingling in their voice, the slightest cracks of a fledgling voice long since disused, still stifled.

“Yes. And I’d like you to join me in it”, you state, crooning ‘please, please dear one, let me comfort you’.

Their eye widens almost comically. You pat the space in front of you again to further emphasize the invitation.

Hesitantly they make their over, stopping at the edge of the nest, rocking slightly back and forth on their feet, repeatedly glancing between your face and the nest itself.

Afraid to actually cross the line and commit.

…it makes two of you, you suppose.

You wait, and wait and wait, again stifling the urge to click because they have to be the one to step inside and accept the invitation for any of this to work as you intend it to-

A brush of fabrics, a soft thump and Siffrin finally crawls into the nest.

For a beat you can feel your stress levels spiking, before it’s buried by the bone deep satisfaction as your instincts sing.

Here, here, here come here, they’re safe, safe, safe here! Flockmate, precious one, oh why are you so afraid, let me protect you! Let me care for you!

A warbling trill of ‘yes! Please come here love, mine, mine, mine to protect, mine to look after’ escapes you without your say so, and Siffrin looks like they’re ready to bolt-

“Let me preen you”, your voice is breathless, desperate as you make yourself say it all aloud because they can’t understand if you don’t, and when did you switch to speaking in Ka Buan?

You hold your hands out to them.

They freeze and for a moment you fear you’ve scared them away, too straightforward, too open-
And then they hastily scramble to sit right in front of you, as close as they can get without touching you, tilt their head forward and this close you can smell the faint scent of desperate yearning on them because you made them stop taking the suppressants and their scent has started to finally come back, long unused fledgling whine crackly and begging you ‘love? Love me? Please, please love me? Keep me near, keep me safe?’.

And you take the action for the permission it is, face scrunching up as you trill ‘love you! Love you, adore you, flock, mine to keep!’ as your heart shatters at their pleading, and let your hands slip between their messy hair and start untangling the strands. Reverently running your fingers through their hair, scratching at their scalp. A soft rumbling hum building in your throat until you’re singing songs you only barely remember the words to from how long it’s been since you last heard them in your sire’s voice, all underlined by love, so much love in your secondary voice.

Siffrin’s trembling beneath your fingers but the moment you try to slow down, concerned, they butt their head against your hands with a keening plea of ‘no, no, please love me, love me, don’t leave!’. So you keep going on, smoothing their hair out section by section, until there aren’t any tangles left to obstruct your fingers as they brush it until it lays neatly around their face. Sweep their bangs aside so they don’t hide that pretty, pretty face and let your hand settle to rest against their cheek.

They nuzzle into it with a soft hiccupping purr of contentment.

“There you are”, you hum, pleased.

“…I thought you hated touch”, they mumble.

You shake your head, the frenetic energy in you finally settling down a little with part of your goal accomplished.

“I don’t. I wouldn’t even call myself exactly averse to it. I’m just… particular with it I suppose”, you muse. It feels easier to be honest, a bit more open here, comfortable in your own nest, instincts still singing from sharing your nest with flock again. Small, happy whistles leaving you.

You can see their hands twitch where they’re gripping the bottom of the nest like a lifeline. Keeping their hands to themselves despite clearly wanting to reach back to you in turn.

And yet they say nothing.

And this, this is what you must correct because this is your mistake, letting them think they aren’t allowed to touch, aren’t allowed to seek even occasional physical affection from you the way you had begun tentatively allowing from the rest of your flock.

Letting them think they are not loved by you.

All because you thought they hated touch.

And you have to grit your teeth and swallow your squawks and growls for a moment because you’re so, very, very angry at yourself for being so shatteringly blind.

They tense.

“I’m not angry with you”, you reassure them before they can spiral over some perceived imaginary offense they’ve committed, “the only one I’m angry with is myself.”

The confusion on their face is painful to look at.

“…why would you be angry with yourself?”, they ask, as if it isn’t your fault they’ve been neglected by you and the rest of your flock for almost as long as you’ve known them.

“Because it’s my fault Siffrin. I was the one who convinced everyone, myself included, that you didn’t want to be touched. Because I should have asked you rather than just assuming. I may have done so with pure intentions, intending to save you discomfort and grief, but it does nothing to change the fact that in doing so, I achieved the exact opposite result. And that you are the one who suffered for it. And for that I am sorry. You didn’t deserve to suffer because of my incompetence-“, you hiss ‘failure! I have failed you! Forgive me, forgive me please’, shame and anger twisting in your chest.

Suddenly they straighten to look you in the eyes with such an intense look in their singular one you stop in the middle of the sentence.

“But you didn’t mean to!”, they exclaim, sheer outrage in their voice and soured scent.

“It doesn’t matter!”, you finally growl because you ‘should have know better! Should have been better! Taken better care of flock!’

“Yes it does!”, they snarl back, secondary voice all ‘offense, offense, hurt, comfort’, “If the fact I didn’t mean to trap everyone in a time loop matters then the fact you didn’t mean to- to exclude me matters too!”

And you-

…you can’t say anything to that, can you? You can only grit your teeth, because the logic is sound.

You glare at the space between you two, as if it has offended you.
It does, just by existing.

…fix it then.

In, and out, like they do.

“…you have me there, I suppose”, you grudgingly admit, softly singing ‘I’m here, I’m here, I’m sorry, I will make it better’, “…I apologize for growling at you.”

Siffrin huffs, slumping back down.

“…sorry for snarling at you”, they whisper back after a moment.

The silence persists after that.

You eventually break it with a humorless huff of air, letting your hand finally fall from their face. And for a moment they look so crestfallen it twists the knife called regret all over again.

But you aren’t here to dwell on your emotions, that was never the point, was it?

The point was to fix this.

So you hesitantly open your arms in invitation, another soft whistle like when you first invited them in breaking the quiet.

You’ve seen the others do it before after they’re done arguing, or after they’ve snapped at each other without meaning to due to stress. An assurance beyond secondary voices that though they may have disagreed and gotten heated, the care between them hasn’t diminished in the process.

Siffrin looks at you like you’ve single handedly turned the world upside down. Maybe to them you have.

Slowly they raise their arms, leaning towards you… and then they barrel into you with the force of a hug from Boniface. You manage to just barely catch a glimpse of the building wetness in their eye before they hide their face by burying it against you.

You wrap you arms around them tightly. Hold them against you like you intend to keep them there forever. It won’t happen, it would be far too much for either of you, both with your own limits for differing reasons, but for now you can pretend you could manage it.

The tension in the air releases and you can’t help but sigh.

“Can I scent you Siffrin?”, you dare to ask. ‘Please let me make you mine, mine, mine, my dear one, my flock’, you chirp pleadingly.

You hear their breath hitch.

“You- you want to…?”, their voice shakes.

“Siffrin… I want to scent you until you smell so much like tea and old books that people start complaining you reek of them. I’ve wanted to scent you for a quite a while”, you admit, reinforcing the plea, request ‘please be mine? My flock, my dear one, mine to protect and care’.

They sob, but they nod their head furiously against you, desperate fledgling whimpers of ‘love me! Love me please, keep me, keepmekeepmekeepmekeepme’ tangling into each other and making them barely understandable.

It’s all the permission you need.

You run your wrists all over their clothes, over their skin where you can, over and over again. You start off slow, gentle, but as the frenetic energy inside you begins boiling again with the desire, the need to make it clear how much you love them, you start speeding up, until the only adjective that fits how you scent them is aggressive, protective hisses and crackling warbles of ‘mine, mine, mine, you are mine, my flock, my love, mine to hold, mine to keep, mine to care for’.

Yours, yours, yours, they are yours to cherish, yours to see thrive, yours to protect.

Against you Siffrin clings to you hard enough you think they might bruise you.

Let them, you’ll carry the marks proudly, look how strong your flockmate is.

When they hesitantly try to copy the way your wrists brush against them with a hesitant purring ‘love you?’ you let out an enthusiastic whistle of ‘Yes! Love you, love me, I am yours as you are mine!’
And when they do it again, slightly bolder this time, you reward them with a pleased trill of ‘flock, we are flock, you are one of mine, I am one of yours, never to abandon, never to leave, together on the winds, together we migrate. Love you, my love, my dear’.

You want the faint scent of dandelions to stick to you. You’ll even tolerate the hint of milk despite the way it’ll undoubtedly make others think you their dam the way they assume with dear Boniface when you are not. No, you will never be a dam, but a matriarch? A matriarch for your flock, that title you can and will make yours with pleasure.

And so you go, back and forth, you rub your wrists against their back and then they copy you, running theirs over you the same way, hesitant answering purrs and chitters to your trills and whistles.

You only stop when the both of you start to shake from how long you’ve spent like this as people not accustomed to such prolonged physical contact, both your secondary voices hoarse.

Reluctantly you nudge Siffrin to let go. Their face is wet but you don’t mention it.

They don’t mention the liquid running down your face either.

You wrap them in a heavy blanket and then wrap up in one yourself.
And because they look at you so longingly you pat the spot next to you.

They settle next to you without a word. Not quite touching, but close, still.

And then you two simply…

Breathe.

Come down from the high of instincts and more contact than either of you have had in a long time, more calls than you have used your secondary voices for.

Eventually they break the silence.

“That was…”, they manage to say before trailing off.

“A lot”, you conclude.

“A…good kind of lot?”, they suggest.

“…Yes”, you tentatively allow.

The kind of a lot that maybe you could get used to doing on occasion.

“…only on occasion though”, you add.

They seem happy regardless.

Good.

If they’re happy then you’ve achieved what you meant to do today.

…

You’re fairly certain you’re utterly done being touched for the day, possibly for the next several but…

“If you want, you’re free to stay still. As long as you don’t mind sitting in silence for a while”, you tell them. You’ll have to explain the rest of the plan to jumpstart their biology later. You’ll have to ask if they’d allow you to claim mark them as flock too.

Because the world needs to know at first glance, at first cursory sniff that they’ve been claimed, they are taken care of and if anybody tries to mess with them, mess with your flock, then they’ll have to answer to you and the experience will not be pleasant for them. And while you wouldn’t blame them you will be a little offended if the others manage to do it before you.

Your answer is a sleepy little purr of ‘content, safe’.

Chapter Text

You don’t exactly keep track of how long the both of you just sit in your nest quietly, but without checking otherwise you’d wager it’s a few hours in total at least.

Siffrin falls asleep fairly quickly, and after calming down a bit more from the high, you grab one of the books you’d left in easy grabbing distance to read while they sleep and the both of you recover from so much of… well, all of what that involved.

Honestly, if this was all it took for them to fall asleep so soundly after the loops you would have thrown Isabeau, Mirabelle or even Boniface at them so much sooner… even if it would have hurt your pride a little bit not having been the first when you were both a direct enabler of their touch starvation and as the to-be matriarch of this flock as soon as you get around to claiming all of them officially.

Though you’ll have to wait for permission you can only get once you make it to Bambouche in Boniface’s case. Wouldn’t do to claim them without their sister’s approval after all. The rest of any flock they might have in Bambouche too actually, if they have others besides their sister. You’ll have to remember to ask them about it.

Still, for once, you think you might just be looking forward to your next seasonal. Just a little bit, despite all the hassle seasonals can be. How novel.

Glancing at Siffrin’s dozing form, you can’t help but smile a little, letting out a few trills, whistles and chirps of ‘precious, precious love of mine, sleep well, sleep safe, I’m here, I will keep you safe.’

You’re glad they seem to be getting some actually sound sleep. You know their sleep hasn’t been the most restful due to frequent nightmares. No question as to why. If it helps them sleep better, you’re certainly not opposed to the idea of letting them sleep in your nest occasionally from now on. You’ll have to remember to tell them that too. Really, you almost wish you could handle it as frequently as they’d need but you know yourself well enough that you would hate it if they were sharing your nest constantly.

It’s like you told them, this was a good kind of a lot, and you think you could get used to doing it again occasionally, but all the time? Sadly not, constant sharing of your personal space let alone touch simply isn’t for you.

Yet another difference between the cultures of Ka Bue and Vaugarde, in one infrequent physical affection is the expected norm, and in the other it seems to be uncommon. You wonder what it was like where they’re from, though you don’t think they’d remember even if you asked.

You wonder do the terms differ between their original home and Vaugarde the way Ka Bue’s do, too. It’s fascinating really, the way your calls are universally understood despite sounding nothing alike. But the terms in the written form of the respective language derive from largely entirely different origins despite meaning the same thing. Your ‘flock’ means the same as Vaugarde’s ‘pack’. ‘Fledgling’ or ‘pup’. ‘Seasonals’ or ‘heats’ and ‘ruts’.

Based on what they’ve shared, perhaps that is something they may actually remember in time.

Idly reading the book, you find yourself grateful for the impromptu naptime on Siffrin’s part for purely yourself as well. A momentary pause in executing your plan is the perfect way to re-organize your thoughts and figure out how you intend to go about explaining it to them in more detail. Originally, you’d intended to start with it, because while this was something you wanted to do regardless, you absolutely had the ulterior motive of helping jumpstart their very biology, and having done so without them knowing of the plan even existing…

Well, it left a bit of a bad after taste in your mouth. Just because you’d be willing to do horrible things to keep your flock safe and happy, doesn’t mean you want to do so, and doing so to them defeats the whole point. In the most extreme circumstances if it was the only way to keep them safe and thus let them be happy in the future…maybe, though you’d likely hate yourself forever for it.

You don’t think Siffrin will mind it terribly that you didn’t start out with it, considering what he’s shared about his situation but… you’ll apologize regardless.

At least you didn’t impulsively claim mark them as yours without asking like a civilized person.

Ugh, instincts. Absolutely necessary and unsafe to ignore, but gems alive, can they be troublesome to let have the reins the way you allowed here. This is why you much prefer to be in strict control of them rather than following through with them in their entirety.

Alas, if you hadn’t let them have the run of the reins, you feel like you wouldn’t have let yourself be open enough to go nearly as far as you did. Which would have meant that Siffrin, while they certainly wouldn’t have complained being far too happy with whatever scraps of affection they get, would not have received nearly as much as they so obviously craved. Wouldn’t have been turned into the absolute blissed out lump they are right now, snuggled happily into the heavy blanket and continuing to softly purr ‘content, safe’ in their sleep. Your own personal scent overpowering theirs so thoroughly that if you close your eyes, you can’t even distinguish them from your nest by your nose!

No, that would have been a crime of entirely unthinkable proportions, you can’t help but decide looking at them now. And maybe your instincts are fueling a large portion of that decision, but at the moment you really can’t care too much about that, far too pleased with your results so far, bad after taste or no.

It really is a good thing they were more than happy to not leave just yet, the list of things you need to tell them or discuss with them keeps increasing, even though you aren’t going to even touch anything related to the loops today!

And you haven’t even started figuring out an outline for how you’re going to go about it! Of course, it’ll likely go at least a little differently than you plan for it to, but you’ll feel a lot better having figured at least one hypothetical way for it to go, or even better, several ones.

Gems, this is why you prefer to leave the more emotional talks to Mirabelle or Isabeau…

In the end you end up considering it for so long and with such focus you forget about the book, and almost miss Siffrin beginning to wake up entirely, if it weren’t for the adorable little grumble they make as sleep leaves them.

“Welcome back to the waking world Siffrin. Sleep well?”, you smirk at them a little, chirping ‘precious, precious, stay right here, here with me, love you’ in your secondary voice.

“Mmnnng…ye-“, they yawn, “-ah. I’ll have to let Mira know we might have hit the elusive 10/10 nap.”

They’re still purring, seemingly having forgotten to stifle it, and if that isn’t a compliment to your efforts you don’t know what is.

You let yourself chuckle as you close the book and set it aside.

“If sharing my nest helps you sleep better, I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you on occasion”, you throw out, carefully watching them nod in your peripheral vision.

3, 2, 1…

Predictably, Siffrin yelps, eye going wide as they scramble back to sitting properly once your words process for them.

“Y-you don’t have to- It’s f-fine I can- It’s still your nest!?”, they still emphasize the fact the nest is yours even as they rush to get words out.

“Correct, I don’t have to. But I will do so occasionally, if it’s of assistance to you. Don’t think we haven’t noticed that you don’t get a lot of actually restful sleep still”, you state it almost like a threat and don’t mention Dormont, because you don’t need to. Deep from your chest you let flow a rattling trumpet of ‘mine, mine to care for! Mine to protect and cherish!’ It’s loud and possessive and it feels so good to finally let yourself be more vocal after decades of keeping quiet in ‘polite company’, for once indulging your instincts demands.

Screw ‘polite company’, Vaugarde doesn’t even have the concept as you’ve found and unless your flock is coming with you, returning to Ka Bue feels less and less desirable every day.

Siffrin says something entirely incomprehensible, secondary voice making another whine of ‘love me? Keep me?’

And you whistle back ‘love you! Keeping you, together on the winds, together in migration!’ Entirely regardless of the fact they can’t yet parse the little details and distinctions yet, beyond it being a positive answer.

Their face goes a lot darker as they purr contentment in response even while they keep grumbling in their primary before finally nodding in acceptance.

You’ll take it, saying these things aloud isn’t really your style either.

But you’ll do it anyway, because it’s for them.

You’ll need them to actually speak in regards to the next conversation topics though, you won’t risk any misunderstandings there.

“Let me know once you can manage actual words again”, you say, unable to resist teasing them a little bit.

Their response is, predictably, even more incomprehensible gibberish sounds and you bite back a laugh. They’re too easy!

“…bullying me…”, are the first words you can actually pick up from them since they devolved into nonsense.

“You’ll live”, you grin, though you make sure to whistle ‘love you, love you’ as simply as you can to make sure they know you only do so out of affection.

Siffrin pouts, and if you weren’t already so over capacity in terms of touch, you’d pinch their cheek. Alas, you’ll have to do so another time. You’ll instead pride yourself in the fact they’re back to purring again.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wait too long before they sigh and huff: “Fine, I’m over it. I can manage words.”

You resist the urge to smirk once again, instead sobering to move on to the main topics left.

“Good. There are a couple of things I’d like to discuss still, one of them which I had originally intended to talk to you about first before… all of that”, you settle for, not wanting to actually voice the fact you let your instincts run wild there.

They tilt their head to the side, looking at you, clearly waiting for you to elaborate, their purring fading and you miss it immediately.

You send a silent prayer to the Expressions of Success, Honesty and Flock.

“Firstly, I apologize I simply went ahead before really explaining anything, because while I wanted to do… this… regardless, I did have a secondary motive. You explained previously that you hadn’t presented yet, and considering what you’ve told me, the cause for that is fairly self-explanatory. And in regards to that, well… I was hoping that doing this – intensive preening and scenting with you – consistently would over time help jumpstart your biology, so to speak. If you’d be agreeable to it, we could bring the others into it as well”, you try to keep the explanation as concise as possible, because you see the way they tense up the moment you mention a secondary motive. Thankfully they untense fairly quickly as you keep going, face going from minor apprehension to…dare you say hopeful?

“I don’t mind I- You… you want to do this again? Repeatedly???”, their voice is barely louder than a whisper with how breathless they sound.

“Oh certainly, and even if you disagreed with the plan, I’d hope you’d still agree to letting me preen you from time to time and keep scenting you. Isabeau has also expressed wanting to be the next one, should you agree to this”, you say, even though it’s more emotional vulnerability than you have allowed yourself for a while, not counting today. Because this is important and you’ll say it all even though you’d rather leave it all to Isabeau because this was your idea and you know this coming from you will have meaning to them.

Siffrin outright keens.

“Yes!? To- to all of that!? Of course???”, they sound both delighted and utterly baffled, because sadly, a lifetime of being denied affection will do that to a mindset. You’re just glad they aren’t trying to deny it from themselves this time.

You allow yourself exactly one sigh of relief.

“Excellent. Don’t be surprised if Isabeau tries to demand to have his turn tomorrow already, though I personally would suggest you make him wait at least a day”, you say.

Siffrin looks at you like you’ve grown a second head or something equally impossible.

“Why… why would I make him wait???”, they manage to sound even more confused somehow.

“Siffrin”, you sigh, “you might be utterly touch-starved, and I don’t doubt that if you could you would physically attach yourself to all of us with enough determination to make dear Boniface jealous, but considering how much today’s session with me was, do you honestly think you could handle another one tomorrow without getting completely overwhelmed sooner rather than later?”

You read them to absolute filth and you can see it from how dark their face gets.

“Thought so. Just tell him to ask you again tomorrow unless you’re certain you can actually handle so much physical affection all at once”, you hum without even waiting for an actual answer, twittering ‘comfort’ at them.

They manage a nod before hiding under the heavy blanket, blushing furiously.

You give them the moment to calm down from the clear embarrassment they obviously need, only continuing onto the last point that your instincts have been begging you to bring up already once they emerge from the makeshift cocoon again.

“Now lastly, I wanted to ask... or rather, I want to tell you that I… Gems, Siffrin, if you would allow me to do so, I would very much like to claim you as flock in an official capacity”, there, you’ve said it.

Siffrin is staring at you like you’ve re-arranged reality again. This time it hurts a bit, but seeing as it’s a hurt of your own making, letting them think you wouldn’t want to claim them, you will just have to endure.

And then they-

Oh. Oh no.

They’re actually crying again.

You don’t think it’s because they’re upset but the way you start frantically twittering and warbling ‘comfort, comfort, I’m sorry, I will protect you, I will make it better, let me help, help, help’ is pure instinct.

“—s…ye-s…yes! Stars. You could claim me now and I would thank you for it!”, they sob, secondary voice purring so, so loudly ‘love me!!! Keep me!!! Want, want, want!!!’

Your instincts absolutely sing to hear it. Thank the Expressions.

Though you hate that you’ll have to disappoint them a bit here…you think…gems you want to do it right now but you’re already so utterly done being touched and while they seem to have recovered well from being overwhelmed previously, you’re not sure if they could…

“Please Odile?”, they whimper.

…

Oh, shatter it all. Future Odile can deal with being completely overwhelmed and not wanting to deal with people for the foreseeable future, and she can curse you for pushing both your own limits as well as Siffrin’s, but they’re pleading you for it and she will have an official flockmate again for the first time in years as she does, so she can thank you for it too.

“Get that turtleneck out of the way and get over here Siffrin”, you growl, secondary voice full of ‘mine, mine, going to make you mine, mine forever, my flock.’

They wiggle out of the accursed obstacle of a shirt and throw it aside as fast as you’ve seen them draw their blade.

They scramble to get over and gems alive they need to be here already so you grab them by the undershirt they still have on and pull them the rest of the way until they’re flush with you again.

And then you’re insistently, gently, tugging on their hair so they’ll tilt their head to give you more room to nose down and grace your teeth against their shoulder, searching, searching, you want it to be seen, it needs to be visible!

You bite down just short of where one would make a bonding bite, and you bite down hard.

Siffrin clings to you, buries their face against your shoulder and tries to gnaw on it through your shirt. They’re sobbing but they’re also purring louder than they’ve purred the entire rest of today, muttering thank you over and over again.

You keep biting them, working your fangs against their skin until you can taste blood and can be sure it’ll stay at least until you’re in season again and can make it even better. And when you finally let go, you don’t waste time rubbing the scent glands under your chin all over their shoulder and the slope between it and their neck, crooning and trilling ‘you’re mine now, mine to keep, mine to love, we will fly together on the winds even should the skies burn, forever, forever, together forever, together we are home.’

Once your instincts can bear to let go of them, you’ll help clean up the bite mark and then because you don’t actually hate yourself, you’ll gently usher Siffrin – entirely blissed out but exhausted – out of your room and escort them back to the one they share with Isabeau so you can retreat back to yours and recover from too much people time.

And laugh at the incredulous and jealous bark of ‘M’dame!’ Isabeau makes when he sees the fresh mark of a claim just shy of Siffrin’s neck.