Chapter Text
“Chris! Are you - ?!”
The question pitters out, crazed blue eyes drinking in the scene and leaving Blueberry speechless for once in his meddling life. Unfortunately, it doesn't last long when, with a face as red as (but not nearly as appealing as) his baby brother’s, he screeches out some rather colorful curses while attempting to claw his own eyes out. Eventually, he turns around entirely, tail curled between his legs as he continues to bluster.
“What the hell, Chris!? I thought you were in trouble!”
Rolling his eyes at the childish whine, Gaston turns to his uninvited guest, but before he can say anything, a low, vicious growl raises the hair on the back of his neck. It does the same to Blueberry, his hackles visibly rising as he turns back to them, face slack in shock. He looks past Gaston and towards the table - towards the source - towards his baby brother, and when Chris's tail snaps out of his grasp, Gaston looks, too.
The trembling, whimpering puppy on his table is gone, and in its place, a vicious wolf braces on all four, face twisted in a downright nasty snarl as Chris glares at his brother. Shit, it's even worse than some of the looks Gaston earned when he was still poaching, and the fact it's directed at Martin Kratt, of all people, makes the whole situation hilariously bizarre. But mostly hilarious.
Chris is every bit a prowling predator as he jumps to the floor, each paw landing soundlessly before he starts stalking towards his brother, who raises his own paws defensively. He glances briefly at Gaston, as if for help, before grimacing and chancing another over his shoulder. It's a mistake that Chris takes full advantage of, and in a flash of green, he pounces.
The brothers collide heavily, flying out of the ship in a tangle of furry limbs. Between Blueberry's shouts and Chris's growls, it sounds like an actual mauling is taking place, and Gaston supposes he should stop them before Chris does something he'll regret. By the time he makes his way outside, Chris already has his brother pinned to the ground, and Gaston lets himself enjoy the view for a bit before stepping out to intervene.
“Alrighty, killer, let ‘im up,” Gaston drawls, catching Blueberry's eyes with a grin. “Who’d have thought he'd be the possessive type, eh, Martin?”
“That's not what this is about,” Blueberry scoffs, glaring past his snarling brother. “It's about territory, not you.”
Gaston hums, crouching down and scratching behind one of the wolf ears practically plastered to Chris's skull. “Tomayto, tomahto.”
“Just turn my suit off, asshole.”
Gaston wants to demand he use some manners, but he’d rather put an end to Chris's feral aggression sooner rather than later. It doesn't suit his sweet pea at all. So without further ado, he reaches down and punches Blueberry square in the chest, right on the button, and blue light envelopes them as Blueberry wheezes from the hit. Once the light fades, Chris noticeably relaxes, ears perking right back up and growling ceasing entirely.
“Wha - Martin? ”
Eyes wide as dinner plates, Chris throws himself off of his brother, who really doesn't look all that worse for wear, but as soon as that blown, brown gaze finds Gaston again, coherency abandons him once more. All the strength and ferocity he exhibited just seconds ago is nowhere to be found either, and Chris whimpers softly as he crawls over to Gaston on all four of his shaky limbs. Blueberry's unimpressed gaze immediately settles on his brother's tail standing tall and at attention.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Gaston smirks as he sits in the dirt and happily accepts Chris onto his lap. He threads his fingers through the thick coat around Chris's neck, earning a soft moan as his sweetie buries his head under his chin and pants into his throat.
“‘Fraid not; poor little thing’s in heat.”
Martin gets to his feet and makes a show of brushing himself off, glowering down at him all the while, but with Chris wrapped so firmly around Gaston, any threat Blueberry might have posed is more non-existent than usual.
“How long has he been like this?”
Gaston shrugs. “Been with me at least an hour.”
Blueberry opens his mouth to interrogate him further but promptly closes it as Chris starts to rut again. It's a wonderful thing seeing the Martin Kratt so uncomfortable, and Gaston can't help but embrace the sight by embracing his brother more firmly.
“Been like this most of the time, too,” he says casually, free hand tracing down the familiar notches of his sweetie’s spine. When he reaches the base of Chris's erect tail, he curls his fingers around it and wags it around suggestively, relishing the reactions it earns from both brothers - polar opposite levels of scandalized. “Never seen him so desperate for my -”
Unsurprisingly, Blueberry cuts him off with an affronted shout, covering his ears for good measure. “Shut up! What the hell is wrong with you!?”
Gaston, unable (and maybe a little unwilling) to hold it back any longer, barks out a laugh. Once he starts, it's hard to stop, and as his body trembles with mirth, the sudden movement encourages Chris to roll his hips more insistently against Gaston’s. The action brings his laughter to an abrupt end, but the throaty groan that replaces it can't be much better for Blueberry's sensitive disposition. The pleasure is unfortunately short-lived, giving way to pain as sharp claws find the flayed flesh of his back again.
“Fucking hell, Chris,” he hisses as he tightens the fist at Chris's nape.
The result is instantaneous and nearly identical to what happened before; Chris arches into the hold, his choked cry ringing clear as he tosses his head back, before all his limbs go limp. Even his tail, held just as firm, goes flaccid. Gaston would take pride in ringing another orgasm from him if his back wasn't currently on fire.
And, also, if Blueberry weren't currently gawking at them with concern of all things.
“Is he - Are you okay?”
Honestly, the genuine worry radiating off of Blueberry makes Gaston about as uncomfortable as the case of blue balls the universe just won't let him get rid of.
“I'm just peachy,” he answers through a gritted grin. “But I'll be even better once I give your brother's peaches some cream.” A beat passes, Blueberry's face going slack, wiped clean of anything resembling care, and just to make matters worse (or better, in Gaston's opinion), he adds, “If you know what I mean.”
Face twisting in disgust, Blueberry turns away and pulls his communicator out with a grumbled, “How the hell does Chris put up with you?”
That's more like it, Gaston thinks with a smirk, and were Chris not out of his mind, he'd probably be just as pissed (and embarrassed) as his brother. But because his sweet pea is still very much putty in his hands, Gaston doesn't need to worry about that right now; he just hopes Chris won't remember by the time he's finally set free from the suit's holeless clutches. Speaking of which -
“Aviva,” Blueberry whines at his screen, “what's taking so long?”
The usually plucky inventor sounds annoyed when she answers, “You're the one that ran off without me, Martin, so I don't want to hear it.”
“But -”
“No ‘but’s! I'm almost there; see you soon.”
With a click, Avocado hangs up, and Blueberry's pout quickly morphs to a scowl when he catches Gaston's gaze. He pockets his phone and starts taking cautious steps towards them, eyes falling to his near-comatose brother, who is the only recipient of that painfully earnest concern now.
“Just a little longer, bro,” he assures, though it sounds more like he's trying to convince himself. Even so, he reaches out to ruffle Chris's hair. “Aviva will be here soon.”
Fever-bright eyes blink open, looking sightlessly above Gaston's head as Chris mumbles, “M’sorry, Martin.”
Blueberry laughs lightly, face impossibly fond, and Gaston feels a ridiculous wave of possessiveness surge through him. Family or not, no one else should be allowed to look at Chris like that. So, naturally - and with no small amount of pettiness - Gaston forces those blown, brown eyes to focus on him again. Blueberry's souring expression, even blurred in his peripherals, is the cherry on top.
“What about me, sugar? You've been using me as a scratching post all afternoon.”
Chris blinks slowly, more exhausted than Gaston has ever seen him (and trust him, that's saying something), before glancing down at Gaston's mouth with renewed desire. His eyelashes flutter as he leans forward to gift Gaston with what would have undoubtedly been the sweetest of kisses, but it never connects.
Blueberry hooks his arms up under Chris's armpits and yanks him back, but with Gaston's fingers still buried in that fluffy, green nape, Chris doesn't go very far. That just fuels Blueberry ire more as he fixes Gaston with a nasty glare and growls like he's the wolf here.
“Knock it off! You're going to get him worked up again.”
Gaston scoffs but decides to relent - if only to make the deactivation process go smoother once Avocado arrives, but that plan backfires the moment Gaston releases Chris, who immediately starts freaking the fuck out and thrashing in his big brother's arms.
Poor, poor Martin Kratt looks devastated as his precious baby brother does his damnedest to escape him.
“Chris, it's me; calm -”
Wide, wet, wild eyes gaze imploringly - desperately at Gaston as his sweet pea reaches out to him, whimpering and whining all the while - every bit the desperate bitch in heat he's trapped as.
“Nonono! Please - Please, it hurts!”
That's all it takes for Blueberry to release him, face falling even further when Chris immediately assumes his previous position, but any satisfaction Gaston might have felt is strangled by the paws raking across his abused back. Of course, that pain is nothing compared to the white-hot agony blooming across his shoulder as Chris buries his face against the bloody bite mark.
Okay, yeah, this is getting ridiculous - and painful.
Despite the discomfort, Gaston holds his trembling sweet pea close with a wince. An uncomfortable silence settles over the clearing. Blueberry continues to forlornly watch his trembling brother, who continues to prod at all of Gaston's wounds in his useless attempts to bring them ever closer. The pain helps keep his body in check as his mind wanders to the only (and much more appealing way) they could get closer, but until the damn suit comes off, they're forced to settle for more one-sidedly painful frottage.
Well, not entirely one-sided because, sure enough, strained, pained whimpers begin to rise up Chris's throat and fill the terse quiet once more. However, despite completely understanding (and sympathizing with) the desperate desire to fill that gnawing emptiness plaguing his sweet pea, Gaston hardly feels sorry for him. Not after all the climaxes he's felt Chris shudder through.
Luckily, shortly after they begin, the pitiful sounds are drowned out when a rumbling buzz starts to reverberate through the trees. Then, in a flurry of yellow, Avocado bursts onto the scene and slides across the clearing on her sleek, buzzy bike. She doesn't wait for it to come to a halt before she throws herself - and her helmet - off and makes a beeline for Chris. Blueberry nearly trips over himself as he jumps up to intercept her, and Avocado barely manages to catch him when he actually does trip in his clumsy haste.
“Martin, what - ?”
“Finally,” Blueberry interrupts as he clings to her. “It's worse than we thought, Viv. Way worse.”
The sounds of their voices rouses Chris's senses again, and he lifts his heavy head to glance over his shoulder, limbs going loose as he searches for his brother and friend. Again, that petty possessiveness grips Gaston, and he dips down to sink his teeth into the exposed (and furry) column of throat, which trembles on a delectably delirious moan. Karma strikes back almost instantly - you'd think Gaston would have learned by now - when the claws come back to dig into his battered back, but Chris answers his pained groan with another one of his own - one of pleasure that must taste as amazing as it sounds. Then his sweetie rewards him further when those punishing paws slide gently - oh so blessedly gently - up his back before furry arms encircle his neck, constricting just enough to keep Gaston's hungry mouth close. Even better, Chris gasps his encouragement directly - wetly into his eager ear. If only they didn't have an audience - a loud, annoying audience.
“Hey! I told you not to get him worked up again!”
Gaston glares up at Blueberry, who glowers back just as darkly. Avocado ignores the both of them, wide eyes firmly on the wriggling wolf in his lap. She sets her equipment down before taking a few cautious steps closer, but Blueberry gently pulls her back before she gets too far. Now she's the one fixing him with a glare.
“Martin, I need to see the damage.”
Blueberry shakes his head. “We need to wait for Chris to calm down again. It's not safe -”
“Exactly!” She cries, ripping out of his grasp. “Just look at Gourmand! He's practically shredded to ribbons; we need to deactivate the suit before Chris does something worse. ”
Her concern is touching but makes Gaston as uncomfortable as Blueberry's did, but it's clear that she hasn't quite grasped the entire reality of the situation. Which her boytoy has no qualms informing her of.
“Trust me, it'll be worse for us than him,” he groans, beyond exasperated. “He's in heat, Viv.”
“Heat?” Avocado’s face twists in confusion as she samples the word. She glances back to Chris and Gaston, the former just starting another series of shallow humps, and a bright blush bursts across her cheeks before she turns away bashfully, going as far as shielding herself from the sight with a demure hand.
Gaston was definitely right; a prude did design the suits.
Blueberry looks amused by her reaction, grinning smugly despite also pointedly ignoring the sight his baby brother is making. “See? I told you: it's way, way, way worse than just a simple malfunction. He even attacked me earlier when I had my suit activated.”
“Is that -” Avocado hesitates, peeking at Chris briefly before retreating again. “Is that normal for wolves in heat?”
“Grey wolves can get pretty territorial during mating season,” Blueberry admits, somewhat reluctantly despite already willingly telling Gaston the same. It's the most sour he's ever sounded when talking about one of his precious creatures. The reason becomes apparent when he bitterly adds, “But usually only when their claim feels threatened.”
As outlandish as the next words out of her mouth are, Avocado delivers them with a stunning seriousness. “So Chris thought you were trying to challenge his claim on Gourmand?”
Blueberry and Gaston finally share a commonality as they both gag at the thought, and it's enough to ruin the effect of Chris's mindless ruts and force Gaston to action.
“That's all very fascinating,” he grouses, taking hold of Chris's scruff to pull him back and give them both some breathing room. The feeling of that sinfully willing body melting into his hold with a guttural groan makes him even more desperate to get a move on. “But I'd actually like to stake my claim at some point today before my balls fucking burst, so can you cockblockers hurry it up?”
His crude words scandalize the duo, just like he intended, but while Blueberry looks ready to tear him a new one, Avocado quickly retrieves her equipment and starts actually being productive. Which Gaston appreciates since it's the whole reason he called her here to begin with. Of course, that doesn't stop her from chatting her way through the whole damn process, spouting off questions that her boytoy already beat her to until -
“Will you need first aid, Gourmand? That one looks pretty bad.” She's obviously referring to the bite hiding beneath his red-stained shirt, and when his response is an unimpressed sneer, she doesn't push but unhelpfully adds, “I can't imagine Chris will be happy when he sees what he did to you.”
Blueberry, equally unhelpful, snorts. “That'll be the least of his worries; I am never letting him live this shitshow down.”
“Martin - ! ”
Gaston interrupts the fast forming lover’s spat. “The only thing I need is this damn suit out of the way,” he grunts, fingers tightening in his sweet pea's scruff. Chris moans softly, and the sound brings a lewd smirk to Gaston's face. “We’ll be more than even once I get to sink my teeth in… Along with a few other things.”
Instead of blanching in scandalized disgust like he expected - and like Blueberry does instantly, Avocado only rolls her eyes.
“Typical man,” she mutters, fingers not even faltering as she continues typing away. “Only thinking with that damned head between your legs.”
Her response earns an honest laugh from Gaston.
“Can you blame me? Look at what I'm dealing with here.” To prove his point, he tightens his hold and forces another deliriously delicious whine from Chris's throat. “You telling me that you'd be able to think straight if it was Blueberry throwing himself at you like a bitch in heat?”
Without so much as a flinch, Avocado snorts, “First of all, I only think straight when Martin throws himself at me, and second -” She shoots an unexpectedly cheeky smirk over the monitor. “Unlike Chris, he's a very good puppy.”
Okay, maybe she's not the prude after all.
“Aviva! ” Blueberry squawks, face redder than ever, and he continues sputtering on accusations of betrayal as she laughs at him.
Gaston would join in too if he weren't uniquely scandalized after being served a taste of his own medicine; he does not like it and makes a mental note to keep his japes aimed only at the Kratts in the future. They both have much more appealing (Chris) and amusing (Martin) reactions.
Swallowing the bitter defeat, Gaston demands, “What's taking so long, Avocado? It's never taken you this long to fix your damn suit.”
That at least cuts her amusement short, and with a furrowed brow, Avocado admits, “I'm actually not entirely sure. Will you press the deactivation button, please?”
Gaston does just that, and just like before, nothing happens.
“Interesting,” Avocado notes idly, eyes flirting across her computer screen. She presses a few more keys before closing the laptop and pulling out a smaller, handheld device. As she pulls a long cord from the thing, she begins to approach them. “Let me try and plug directly into the suit. If anything, I'll be able to at least force a power down that way.”
Blueberry steps forward, too, face slightly less bright and much more serious. “Woah, woah, hold on, Viv. We have no idea how Chris’ll react to -”
“Oh, please, look at him, Martin,” she huffs, not even sparing him a glance, and Gaston wishes she did so he wouldn't have to see that cheeky grin curl her lips again. She halts right behind Chris, towering over the pair of them and, with a teasing tilt of her head, adds, “I'm more worried about Gourmand letting me touch his ‘sweet pea.’”
Uhg, Gaston’s beginning to understand why Zach can't stand this girl.
“You can join in for all I care,” he hisses, a pitiful attempt to gain some ground back. Perhaps it would have been more effective if it wasn't so clearly a lie. “Just get on with it.”
Avocado doesn't rise to the bait as she crouches down beside them, and Blueberry immediately takes her place as the figure looming over them, glaring down at Gaston over his loved ones’ heads like the overprotective idiot he is. Which proves just about as effective as Gaston’s attempt at saving face because the poor bastard's still blushing like a virgin.
“I'll need to see the button,” Aviva says easily - almost clinically. “Turn him around, please.”
She places her free hand onto Chris's furry shoulder, as if to help, and the sight of her slender fingers carding through the green fur makes Gaston's stomach churn. Still, he moves to obey her. It physically pains him to shrug the lax limbs off, even more so as Chris's eyes, still as dark as the mask surrounding them, flutter open in confusion. Red lips part to reveal a pink tongue, a question poised right at the tip, but all that escapes his succulent mouth are more of those sweet, shallow pants. The urge to swallow the sound is strong; the need to stick his dick in a wet hole - one of Chris's specifically - is stronger, and with that thought, he manhandles his sweet pea until it's his furry ass pressed against Gaston instead of his cock-less crotch. The noise that escapes Chris now, strangled and high, makes him regret his choice as he envisions the face that must accompany it. No one but Gaston should ever get to see Chris like this, and yet, here they are, another set of unwelcome green eyes drinking in the sight. Judging by the way her nose curls, though, Avocado clearly isn't as appreciative as she should be.
“No wonder it's busted,” she gripes, turning her ire on Gaston. “You poured food on it. Again.”
“I only did that after he showed up like this,” he counters. “It always worked before; how was I supposed to know it wouldn't this time?”
His reasoning - perfectly sound, if you ask Gaston - doesn't appease either member of the do-gooder duo, but before any more undue criticism can be thrown at him, a low growl cuts the conversation short. As all of them shift their attention to the green wolf in Gaston's lap, he can't help but be slightly grateful; who cares if this feral ferocity suits his sweet pea or not? He'd rather share this Chris with them than the one he prefers in his bed.
Blueberry reacts instantly, pulling Avia back to crouch between her and his feral brother. He raises a single pacifying hand as he gazes imploringly at Chris. “Hey, hey, easy there, bro. We're just here to help, remember?”
While the snarls cease, Chris's body remains rigid, fur standing on end and poking into the bare flesh of Gaston's neck. It isn't until Gaston joins the effort, running his hands up and down his taut, trim waist, that his sweetie relents, relaxes, and slumps back against him with a relieved sigh. He's not the only one relieved either.
“Dios mío,” Avocado breathes, shaking her head in bewilderment. “That was… scary.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Blueberry begins, grin not quite reaching his eyes, which remain firmly on his brother again. “Now imagine that coming at you with the intent to maim.”
“Or fuck,” Gaston adds, just to remind them that he's still very much there and still very much horny.
His crudeness finally earns him a reaction from Avocado, who turns her wide eyes back to Gaston as the realization hits. Briefly, her gaze wanders to his ripped clothes, and once more, a deep rumble begins to shake the body in his lap.
How cute, his little puppy really is possessive.
As sweet as that fact is, Gaston really, really needs Avocado to get this damn suit off already, so he slides his hand up the rattling cage of Chris's ribs, past the flexing hollow of his throat, and grabs a hold of the sweaty, scorching flesh of his jaw, which immediately drops in a strangled gasp. Turns out, that's as much of a trigger as his nape, and before Gaston truly realizes that, Chris is already arching violently against him and smashing his skull into the bite mark. The unexpected pain nearly blinds Gaston as much as the sudden friction against his crotch, but he holds fast and muffles his groan by sinking his teeth into Chris's fuzzy shoulder. While the suit, unsurprisingly, doesn't give in the slightest, his sweet pea still winds up howling his way through another climax that has him melting against Gaston, completely boneless (in more ways than one).
What number is that now? Five? Six? Ten?
Chris is going to have one hell of a debt to pay, and that's not even including interest.
“Now’s as good a time as any to get your ass in gear, Avocado,” Gaston growls, strained. “He won't stay down for long.”
The reminder knocks Avocado out of the stupefied stupor the spectacle left her in.
“R-right! Sorry, let me just…” She shuffles past an equally squeamish Blueberry and swiftly plugs her device into the button. For a moment, the only sound between them is the clicking of her keys and Chris's ragged pants, and then - “Alright, I think that should -”
Gaston doesn't wait; he smashes the button and nearly hoots in relief when a familiar green light envelopes them. When it fades, in place of a horny green wolf is a worn ragged Chris Kratt.
“...Thanks, Viv,” he murmurs, sounding as tired as he looks and as scratchy as Gatson's back, and as soon as the words are out, the poor thing is out cold, somehow slumping even more limply against him as his breathing evens out.
Guess he's chopped liver then, huh?
Bitterness wells up within Gaston, but as he glances up to glare at their saviors - and demand that they get the hell out of here already, he's met with an oddly amusing if disarming sight. Eager to protect Avocado's virtue or some shit, Blueberry shields her eyes with both hands and pulls her along and away, walking them backwards towards their bike. Which, predictably, she does not appreciate in the slightest, but even with all her struggling and seething, Blueberry speaks loudly and quickly over her protests.
“Welp, that's another power suit malfunction fixed and for the books! What's say we go celebrate a job well done, Aviva? Maybe use the time-travel trampoline and stop this whole traumatizing experience from ever happening in the first place?”
Avocado stops trying to escape her insistent boytoy but remains just as peeved. “What about Chris? What about Gourmand’s injuries? We can't just leave them, Martin!”
“Like I said before, Aviva. They'll be better off without us here.”
Gaston throws in his two cents, if only to get their asses moving a little faster. “You got that right, Blueberry, but maybe Avocado is just reconsidering my earlier offer?”
That gets Blueberry's glaring eyes back on him, but it's Avocado who responds with a haughty little laugh - the kind Donita usually favors.
“Sorry, but you're both way too possessive for my tastes.” Her grin is downright villainous as she adds, “It makes sense, though; Gray wolves mate for life, after all.”
The fact strikes Gaston completely speechless, and he watches dumbly as Blueberry continues pulling them towards their bike while weakly - desperately contesting the claim all the way. (“Well, that's not - it's honestly just a theory at best-”) Avocado's smug, knowing grin is on full display the entire time as she blindly nods along to her boytoy’s ramblings. Which cut off abruptly as he scowls over his shoulder at Gaston one final time.
“Chris better come back in one piece, or I'll show you what it's like to be on the wrong side of a wolf mauling.”
Ah, they're back to petty threats, are they? If Gaston weren't currently tongue tied, he’d say something like -
“How forward of you, Martin,” Avocado teases, loud enough for Gaston to hear. “Maybe Chris was right to feel threatened.”
Reduced to a sputtering mess all over again, Blueberry just barely stays upright as he spurs the bike to life and sends them careening into the forest. Their voices - raised in embarrassment and amusement respectively - fade away quickly, and without the cockblockers doing as that title suggests, peace is finally - fucking finally restored.
Or, it will be once Gaston gets this evening back on track.