The faint traces of wisteria still lingered in the quiet room when Lior finally stirred. His breath caught against the pillow, sharp and shallow, like someone surfacing from a deep dream. Kaein had been sitting there for hours, eyes never leaving him, one hand loosely holding Lior's wrist as though afraid he might slip away again. The soft rise and fall of his chest had been Kaein's only anchor. When the lashes finally fluttered and hazy golden eyes opened, relief washed over him like rain after drought.
"You're awake," Kaein whispered, voice cracking from exhaustion.
Lior blinked slowly, disoriented. His skin flushed, warmer than usual, the scent of gardenia faint at first—like a ghost brushing the air. But even that faintness was enough to make Kaein's throat tighten. The fragrance wound itself into the air, rich, heady, something in it tugging at his instincts. Not the typical pull of an Omega's sweetness, nor the sharp dominance of an Alpha. It was both and neither, a paradox wrapped in the softness of midnight flowers.
"…Kaein," Lior murmured, as though he had dreamed his name and brought it back with him.
Kaein's hand tightened slightly on his. "I'm here."
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not empty. Then Lior turned his face toward him fully, and the gardenia scent spilled like an unrestrained tide. Stronger, headier. It rolled off him in waves, filling the room until Kaein's pulse stuttered.
Kaein knew this wasn't ordinary. He'd been beside Lior long enough to know his rhythms, his quiet dignity, the way he rarely lost control. But now—his pupils dilated, body trembling—something was breaking open.
Lior sat up suddenly, eyes clouded with heat. His hand caught Kaein's wrist with startling force. "Kaein… I—" His words cut off, a shiver wracking his body. "It hurts."
Kaein swallowed hard, his own breath catching. Because beneath the pull of gardenia, his own scent surged unbidden—wisteria, normally calm and grounding, now sharp and restless, sparking at the edges of the room. The feedback loop spun faster: Lior's heat-like rut pulling at him, dragging him into its orbit, and his own body responding with an ache he had never known.
"Lior, wait—"
"I can't," Lior whispered, voice raw. His fingers slid to Kaein's jaw, clutching as though anchoring himself. "I can't stop it."
The air thickened with pheromones, so dense it was almost visible. Kaein's skin prickled, heart pounding, and then Lior's lips crashed against his. The kiss wasn't calculated, wasn't gentle—it was desperate, searing. Yet underneath that urgency was the trembling devotion of someone who had waited decades, someone who only knew how to pour love even when drowning in instinct.
Kaein responded before thought could intervene. His hands found Lior's back, pulling him close, bodies pressed together, breaths tangled. The world narrowed to gardenia and wisteria, heat and rhythm, memory and present colliding. Every kiss was a plea, every gasp an answer.
They stumbled back onto the bed, Lior half-pinning him, the strength in his frame trembling not from dominance but from the sheer weight of his own rut. His mouth moved along Kaein's throat, shuddering as though intoxicated. "Your scent… gods, Kaein… it's everywhere."
"And yours—" Kaein broke off, voice rough. He couldn't find words to describe it. Gardenia was supposed to be gentle, alluring, but on Lior it burned like fire, lured like a siren, commanded and pleaded all at once.
Clothes tangled, discarded in hurried motions, not out of lust but because they felt like barriers. Skin against skin was the only thing real enough to ground them, the only way to keep from being swept under. Lior's body was burning, every tremor running through him shaking into Kaein's own bones.
When Lior entered him, it wasn't forceful—it was inevitable. Their bodies locked, fitted, as though they had always been waiting for this exact moment. Kaein gasped, back arching, not in pain but in overwhelming surrender.
Their rhythm was not frantic. It was steady, consuming, waves that built higher and higher, each crest carrying more heat, more tenderness, more years of buried longing. Lior's rut demanded, but his heart soothed every demand with reverence. He held Kaein as though fragile, yet worshipped him as though he was the only thing worth breaking for.
Kaein clung to him, nails digging into his shoulder blades, his own rut triggered fully now, senses narrowed to nothing but the man above him. Every thrust, every brush of skin, every mingling of breath carved something deeper into him.
"Lior—" His voice cracked, but he couldn't stop. "Finally, I'm yours and you are mine."
The words snapped something in Lior. He shuddered violently, burying his face against Kaein's neck, biting down softly—not the harsh claim of an Alpha, not the submission of an Omega, but something rare, something only his. The gardenia scent flooded, intoxicating, and Kaein's body answered, wisteria twining into it until the room was an enclosed garden of flowers in full, impossible bloom.
Their passion burned through the night, not once but again and again, waves pulling them under and releasing them only to drag them deeper. Each time exhaustion claimed them, another swell of pheromones stirred them awake, until they lost sense of where one began and the other ended. There was no lust here, only devotion so fierce it left them raw.
By dawn, the world was quiet again. The air still carried traces of their scents, but softer now, settled into something like morning dew after a storm. Lior lay half across Kaein, both of them slick with sweat, skin marked with tenderness. His hand was limp against Kaein's chest, his breath slow but uneven.
Kaein stroked his hair back, studying him with a mixture of awe and worry. "You burned yourself out."
Lior gave a faint smile, eyelids heavy. "And you stayed with me."
"Of course I did." Kaein kissed his temple softly. "Where else would I be?"
But even as he spoke, worry clawed at him. This wasn't normal. The intensity, the way Lior's rut had spiraled into something beyond Alpha or Omega—it wasn't something his body should have endured without consequence. And sure enough, within an hour, as they tried to get up, Lior collapsed again.
"Kaein…" His voice was hoarse, his body trembling with aftershocks.
That was it. Kaein couldn't ignore it anymore. He dressed him carefully, ignoring his weak protests, then called for a car. The ride to the hospital blurred by, Lior half-dozing against him, gardenia still faint in the air but no longer overwhelming—like an ember instead of a blaze.
At the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic replaced the flowers. Doctors guided them quickly into a private room, questions tumbling out, monitors attaching. Kaein stood close, refusing to let go of his hand.
The senior physician flipped through notes, frowning. "His vitals are stable now, but…" She glanced at Kaein, then back at the file. "The pheromone readings are irregular. It's not presenting strictly as Alpha or Omega. There are markers of both, but layered strangely."
Kaein's chest tightened. He looked down at Lior, who met his gaze with weary but steady eyes. For the first time, a flicker of fear crossed his features.
"What does that mean?" Kaein asked, voice low, urgent.
The doctor hesitated. "It means… we may be looking at a rare classification. Something in between—or beyond like a rare group, newly discovered Lunar."
The words hung in the air, heavy as stone. Kaein's grip on Lior's hand tightened, as though holding him there could keep him safe from what came next.