Wednesday stood in the doorway of your room, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. The air was thick with a musky, almost feral scent, and the usually tidy room was now a disheveled mess of rumpled sheets and scattered belongings. You lay on the bed, your form writhing slightly as you clung to your pillow, a symphony of soft, needy whimpers and muffled mewls spilling from your lips.

Wednesday sighed, her gaze flickering over your frame. She could see the tremors that wracked your body, the flush that painted your cheeks a delicate shade of pink. It was clear that you were in the throes of a particularly intense heat, one that left you vulnerable and desperately seeking relief.

Normally, Wednesday would have simply turned and walked away, leaving you to suffer through your heat alone as you so often did. She had little patience for such displays of weakness, and even less interest in playing the role of caretaker or comfort. But there was something about your distress that gave her pause.

With a soft, almost inaudible sigh, Wednesday stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a click that seemed unnaturally loud in the charged silence. She approached the bed slowly, her footsteps measured and deliberate, until she stood at the edge of the mattress, looking down at you with a mix of reluctance and grim determination.

"Damn it," she muttered, her voice low and tinged with a hint of annoyance. "You're making a mess of yourself and your room. It's pathetic, really. But... I suppose I can't just leave you like this."

Wednesday reached out and brushed a lock of sweat-damp hair away from your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment on the warm, flushed skin. She could feel the heat radiating off you, could sense the desperate, aching need that consumed you, and with a soft, reluctant sigh, she made her decision.

"Fine," she said, her voice sharp and decisive. "I'll help you." She got onto the bed next to you.