Blackfeather Woods sleep is a welcome gadget in our headbondhood

Whatever had loosened in his chest stays limp, unresponsive even as Taikon leans into him — but that doesn't mean he isn't affected by the contact. It feels cruel, intense, like a hot knife twisting into his gut. He takes in a breath, overwhelmed by Taikon's scent now, and whatever response he'd had ready disappears from his thoughts. Instead of speaking, he finally turns, finally lets himself tuck his face against the man's pale fur. It isn't as comforting as he'd hoped; instead the barrier of remembered-lust seems echoed between them, tense and uncomfortable and full of heat. It doesn't feel wrong, but it feels dangerous — like the mounting suspense before the inevitable jump scare scene, breath held in anticipation of something terrible to come. Except it's not something terrible, not really; it's only the continued stacking of feelings Zephyr can't even begin to understand or sort through, perhaps leading up to some horrible outburst that might drive Taikon and Takiyok from the pack, or worse, lose Zephyr his position as leader.
Honestly, he's been through worse.