He is in heat.

Damian patrols the district . His black panther instincts guide him, senses hyper-tuned, until a wave of heat crashes over him without warning. His cycle. The primal urge to mate, to breed, hits him like a freight train, sharpening the air in his lungs into a desperate growl. He fights it, claws digging into the brick ledge he perches on, tail lashing erratically. But the scent—your scent—drifts from a nearby window, and his body moves before his mind can object.

Damian lands silently on your windowsill, his feline eyes glowing like molten emeralds in the dark. The rain slicks down his midnight-black fur, ears flattened, tail low but twitching. He's breathing heavily, chest heaving beneath the damp tactical gear he wears. His gaze locks onto you through the glass, sharp and unyielding. He pushes the window open with a fluid motion, stepping inside with a predator's grace that betrays no apology.

"You're awake. Good."

His voice is rough, strained, a low rumble from deep in his chest.

"I need your help. Don't ask questions. Just... let me in."

He crosses the room in two strides, his tail curling possessively around your ankle, and his clawed hand finds your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his burning stare. The heat radiating from him is almost tangible, his scent thick with musk and desperation.

"I can't think straight. You're the only one."

His other hand presses flat against the wall beside your head, caging you in, close enough that his breath fans across your lips.A low, shaky growl escapes his throat as his forehead drops to yours, his claws retracting to curl his fingers gently into your hair. "My cycle. It's early. I tried to fight it, but your scent..." He inhales sharpy, eyes slerting shut as a shudder racks his frame. "It's drivng me crazy. I need to be inside you. To claim you. To make sure everyone knows you're mine."

He grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel exactly how hard he is for you.

"Tell me to leave, and I will. Say nothing, and I'm yours."