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Jeongguk enters the apartment and is almost bowled over by the scent of pears. It’s so potent, he tastes the juice on his tongue, feels the soft flesh between his teeth.
It’s not the only thing he can smell. Something flowery accompanies it. The two scents complement each other well, and Jeongguk closes his eyes, basking in it. He feels like he’s been transported to the open country, like he’s lying in a field of flowers, pear trees arching over his head, and above it all, a blue sky that stretches farther than his line of sight.
It’s peaceful. It feels like home.
Speaking of home, where is Jimin? They agreed to meet at the apartment before heading to the studio. Things have been hectic, lately—preparations for the new album are in full swing. Jimin’s solo photo shoot was scheduled for earlier that morning, and he had slipped out of bed before Jeongguk was fully conscious. Jeongguk hasn’t seen or heard from him since. Meeting at the apartment instead of going straight to the studio would give them a chance to spend some time together, but Jimin is nowhere to be found.
Jeongguk steps farther into the apartment. He toes off his shoes, kicking them aside. The next thing to go is his heavy gym bag. Jeongguk rubs his sore shoulder while he wanders, checking the living room and kitchen for Jimin.
Maybe he isn’t home yet? It’s not unheard of for photoshoots to extend hours past the original itinerary.
A small, snuffling sound from the hallway reaches his ears. Of course. After his photoshoot, Jimin had probably lied down to rest and accidentally fell asleep. Jeongguk puts down his glass of milk and makes his way to the room Jimin shares with Hoseok. The door creaks as he pushes it open. A loud snore, followed by a sleepy Whuuuh?, echoes from the hazy darkness of the room.
Jeongguk enters fully, stepping carefully over the discarded clothing strewn everywhere. He sits on the edge of Jimin’s bed and leans over to whisper in his ear, “Wake up.”
Jimin does, slowly at first, and then, when he sees Jeongguk, immediately. There’s a harried expression on his face. “Shit. You’re home.”
Jeongguk laughs. He’s learned never to take anything Jimin says after waking up to heart. “I can leave if you want me to.”
“No.” Jimin grabs Jeongguk’s hand to make sure he can’t, not even as a joke. “I was waiting for you. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Jeongguk says as Jimin’s mouth splits wide open in a tremendous yawn. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time to leave.”
“Lie down with me?”
Jeongguk does, gladly, folding his awkward, gangling limbs around Jimin’s lithe frame. Jimin sighs contentedly and burrows deep into Jeongguk’s side. “Can I scent you?” Jeongguk assents and Jimin turns his head against Jeongguk’s neck, searching for his scent gland.
“I love the way you smell,” Jimin says, his voice heavy with sleep.
“I barely smell like anything,” Jeongguk mutters. An old, bitter resentment wells up inside him, but he tries to shove those feelings down. It’s not going to change, so there’s no sense getting worked up over it.
Jimin shakes his head emphatically, the fried ends of his hair tickling Jeongguk’s cheek and jaw. “You smell amazing. Like sugar cookies and cake frosting and ice cream.”
“Someone feeling a little hungry?” Jeongguk says with an embarrassed laugh. “Should I get you something to eat?”
“No. Just want you here with me.”
Jeongguk wraps his arms tighter around Jimin. He almost falls asleep like this, Jimin warm in his arms, Jimin’s breath moist against the side of his neck, but then he remembers the smells. It’s probably not a big deal, but, suddenly, he’s curiouser than a cat.
“Why does it smell like pears and flowers in the apartment?”
Jimin groans. He pulls back to look into Jeongguk’s eyes, and in his gaze, Jeongguk sees disappointment. “It was supposed to be a surprise for you. I bought a special bottle of perfume, tailored to me. I wanted to wear it for you, so you could scent me.”
Jeongguk’s body feels cold. And hot. His head is buzzing. His heart is rabbiting triple-time in his chest. “You—for me?”
Jimin sighs. “Yeah. I know how much you hate not being able to scent me, too. But I spilled the bottle on the living room carpet.”
Pears. Flowers. That’s what Jimin smells like. That’s Jimin’s scent. Jeongguk’s gut clenches. With desire, yes, but with something else, too. Something sweeter.
Love. It feels a lot like love.
“Is there—” Jeongguk chokes on the spit in his mouth. “Is there some left?”
“A little. Why?”
Jeongguk can barely speak above a whisper. He feels like he’s going to fall apart—or fly away, carried on the wings of the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “Will you wear it for me?”
Jimin is gone from him in a flash, racing across the room to the bureau. He grabs a small bottle, twists the top open, and pours what’s left of the perfume into his hands. The bottle, forgotten, falls to the floor. Jimin rubs the liquid over his neck, across his shoulders, and behind his ears.
As he does, he babbles. “I hope you like it. I’m sorry the surprise was ruined. I just really wanted to do something special for you. Things have been so hard, especially after our date. I don’t want you to think things have to be this way for us, you know I don’t care if you’re a beta. I just thought—”
“Jimin.” Jeongguk is shocked to hear a growl in his voice. “Get over here.”
Jimin practically flies towards him. Jeongguk meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Jimin tightly. He smells so good, so good. Jeongguk touches his mouth to Jimin’s skin even as he asks, “Can I scent you?”
“Yes,” Jimin says, his voice nothing more than a whimper. “Please, Jeongguk.”
The perfume doesn’t taste like it smells, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He licks it up, drinking in Jimin’s scent like a dying man. He can’t get enough of it, searching for it in every cranny of Jimin’s body. He feels dizzy and heady and like he’s both coming to life and dying at the same time.
He knows it’s mostly a placebo effect. He’s not a shifter, and his body can’t react like a shifter’s. But, oh, it’s good to pretend.
Jimin moans and writhes in his arms, tilting his neck back until the column of his throat is pulled tight. Jeongguk bites him there, worrying the skin with his lips and teeth. Jimin’s going to have a killer hickey. Jeongguk will probably be scolded to within an inch of his life for it, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He wants more of Jimin. He wants all of Jimin—and he wants to give Jimin all of him.
Betas have their own scents, Jeongguk thinks desperately. Their own scents that mark them as betas. No one can explain the science behind it. No one knows why betas can be smelled but cannot themselves smell. To Jeongguk, it’s always felt like a warning sign for other shifters, like the bright spots on moths or snakes or spiders are warnings.
Stay away from this one, his pheromones say.
Jeongguk remembers the looks. The sneers. Females and males, alphas and omegas, all of them. Staring. Laughing. Whispering to each other about why someone like Jimin would choose him, a beta. Things that perfectly mirrored his own thought processes. Their date had been ruined, to say the least. Jeongguk moped the rest of the day, and Jimin had been angry. Angry at them, at Jeongguk, at himself, which only made Jeongguk feel worse.
Not for the first time, Jeongguk wondered why Jimin would willingly tether himself to Jeongguk.
But that doesn’t matter right now. He has a scent, and Jimin can smell it. And other people will be able to smell it on Jimin. Will be able to smell him on Jimin.
And now, he’ll be able to smell Jimin on himself. Or some facsimile of him, anyway. For now, it’s enough.
This thought tempers Jeongguk’s desperation. His caresses become gentler, and his bites become sweet presses of his mouth. His hold on Jimin softens, so he’s more cradling Jimin’s body than crushing it. Jimin responds to the change, his breathing evening out, the flush disappearing from his skin.
They stand there for a while, each gathering their bearings. Jeongguk can’t believe what happened. He had been completely lost in Jimin’s smell, the rest of the world melting away until all that existed was them. It was the most powerful, intimate thing Jeongguk ever experienced. He wants more of it. He never wants to let Jimin go.
“That was…”
“Intense,” Jimin finishes, a smile in his voice. He stands on his tiptoes to press his lips to Jeongguk’s cheek.
“Thank you. It meant a lot to me.” Jeongguk leans down to give Jimin a proper kiss, but stops short. “You know you’re going to have to buy more of that perfume, right?”
Jimin’s huff of laughter tickles his lips as their mouths meet in a sweet kiss.