Gilded Bay deserted, my organs can go on without me

It was probably the most words he'd ever heard tumble out of Cortland's mouth, and he stood, stupefied, waiting for the boy to exhaust himself. It took a couple of moments for it to click in his head, and when it did, a watery smile made its way onto his face, hanging on the verge of collapse.

Truth be told, he didn't know what to think. Of all the ways the tribe had altered his brain, sex was changed the most. Where he'd once been a fiercely virile young man, now he felt almost neutered. Sex was done in dark places, sequestered from the rest of the pack. Women in heat were led away by their mates--for mates were chosen before that mess began--and would return to the tribe after a week's time. Their bellies would swell--

Phocion blinked in slight horror at Cortland as he realized what this encounter could result in. He was quick to morph the expression into something kinder, though worry still curdled in his stomach, turning it over and over until he became nauseous. He shook his head, closing his eyes. Trying hard not to picture the two of them. . .together.

"Breathe," he murmured, while he himself took a deep inhale, letting it out in a long puff of air. His eyes opened once more and he looked at the boy, drawing forward to nuzzle at his neck. "Breathe. It's okay, Cortland. It's all right. It's all right." He continued to whisper gentle words like these, at a loss for anything else suitable to say.