It wasn’t until that evening, that Flitmouse took a deep, rousing breath, and his legs shifted in beautifully hot water, as a cloth gently rubbed the come and slick away from him, that he felt like he truly woke from the heat haze.
‘It’s over, isn’t it?’ Flitmouse said, feeling fragile.
‘It’s over, Alois. It has been for most of today, it just took you a while to come back.’
Flitmouse’s lower lip trembled, he sniffed a few times, looked aside even though Anton couldn’t see him, because Anton was at his back.
‘Oh, baby, I know,’ Anton said, ‘it’s too hard, isn’t it?’
‘You made it so…’ Flitmouse’s voice choked up. Anton made it as bearable and beautiful as he could, but Flitmouse couldn’t imagine ever wanting a heat. Not truly. He turned into Anton’s side, and made a soft, closed-mouth whimper at the pain in his hips and thighs, his knees, even his toes felt like they creaked. He must have been curling and stretching them for days.
‘Do you remember Temsen visiting?’ Anton asked.
Flitmouse shook his head. Anton nodded and gently sponged Flitmouse’s stomach beneath the water.
‘That’s all right. Nothing’s wrong. But I was a bit concerned at how long it was taking you to recover. In the end, it was a full four day heat, and I couldn’t really slow it down. Temsen said it was healthy, but that you might just have intense cycles for a little while. Lots of memory loss, hm?’
