The next morning came soft and golden. The scent of brewing tea and fried bread drifted from the kitchen, tugging Lior awake before he even opened his eyes. For a moment he lay still, feeling the faint hum of warmth beside him—Kaein's steady breathing, the faint brush of his arm against his.
When he shifted, Kaein cracked one eye open. "You're awake."
"You smell the food too," Lior teased, though his voice came out soft, almost shy.
Kaein's lips curved. "My mother doesn't let anyone stay hungry. Come on."
By the time they walked into the kitchen, Kaein's sister was already teasing. "Finally. Thought you two planned to hibernate."
Heat crept up Lior's neck, but Kaein just pulled out a chair for him. That one small gesture, casual yet deliberate, didn't escape notice—his mother's smile held warmth, his father's brow arched with quiet amusement.
Breakfast felt easy, the kind of ease Lior hadn't known in years. Yet beneath it lingered something else: scents curling too close, pheromones brushing in instinctive waves whenever Kaein leaned nearer. Lior caught the flicker of his sister's knowing look when she opened the window, as though to clear the air.
Later, neighbors dropped by—casual visits, baskets of fruit, curious eyes. They smiled at Lior, but their noses twitched, catching what no one said aloud. The air hummed with an intimacy already obvious, even if unspoken.
"They think we're…" Lior murmured under his breath once the last neighbor left.
Kaein tilted his head. "Lovers?" His hand brushed Lior's again, deliberate, steady. "Let them."
Lior's breath caught. "…You don't mind?"
"Why would I?" Kaein leaned closer, his voice dipping lower. "I want them to know."
The words left Lior wordless, heat rising at the pit of his stomach.
Day passed with small touches—Kaein's hand at his back guiding him through doorways, a brush of lips at his temple when no one was looking, the shared laughter at his sister's relentless teasing. Each moment was a thread tightening around him, pulling him closer to something he had feared to want.
By nightfall, when the house had gone still, it was impossible to ignore. The pheromones had thickened—his, Kaein's, layered together until the air pulsed with it.
Lior stood by the window, trying to steady himself, when Kaein came up behind him. Warmth pressed into his spine, arms circling his waist.
"You're restless," Kaein murmured against his ear.
Lior swallowed, the air thick with Kaein's scent—warm, grounding cedar laced with something darker, more primal. It brushed against his senses like a hand across bare skin.
"I keep thinking about it," Lior admitted, voice low. "About what the journals said. About… what I am. What it means for us."
"It's the scent," Lior admitted, voice trembling. "It keeps… pulling at me."
"Then don't fight it."
Kaein stepped closer, slow, deliberate, until the space between them disappeared. "And what does it mean for us?"
"That I could…" Lior faltered, chest tightening. "That I could make you rut. That I could mark you. Both of us—tied, not just you over me." His voice trembled. "It scares me."
Kaein tilted his head, studying him, then leaned down until his lips brushed Lior's ear. "It excites me."
The words sank into his skin like heat. Lior turned, finding Kaein's eyes in the dim light—steady, unyielding, yet softened only for him.
Heat rushed through Lior, his breath hitching. His scent, usually soft, bloomed sharp and intoxicating—lunar-silver threaded with honeyed sweetness, spilling into the air like a secret too long held back. Kaein inhaled deeply, his pupils dilating, voice dropping lower.
Their mouths met, slow at first, then deeper, tasting of restraint breaking. Lior's fingers curled into Kaein's shirt, needing more, yet terrified of too much.
"You feel that? You could bend me just as easily as I bend you." His hand found Lior's wrist, guiding it up against the steady thrum of his pulse. "Doesn't make me weaker. Doesn't make you dangerous. It just makes us…" he paused, lips grazing the corner of Lior's mouth, "…inevitable."
Lior shivered, caught between fear and want, his free hand curling into Kaein's shirt. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why?" Kaein smiled against his lips. "Because it makes you want to test it?"
Their mouths met then—slow at first, then hungrier, Kaein pressing him gently back against the wall. The kiss was a clash of breath and teeth, tasting of tea and heat. Pheromones spiked, the air thick enough to drown in, Lior's Lunar scent wrapping around Kaein like silk chains.
Kaein broke away just enough to breathe, forehead pressed against Lior's. "You're holding back," he whispered, voice rough. "Let it go, Lior. Just for tonight."
The kiss, when it came, wasn't careful. It was hungry—yet sweet, as if they'd both been waiting far too long. Lior clutched at his shirt, dragging him closer, tasting him, breathing him in.
The press of their bodies sparked heat, pheromones tangling—Lior's gardenia winding tight with Kaein's sharp cedar. A dangerous mix, but neither cared.
"Your scent," Kaein groaned against his mouth. "It's driving me insane."
Lior flushed, but the words sent a thrill through him. "Then… lose yourself a little."
The challenge was breathy, almost shy, but it made Kaein's control snap. He pushed Lior gently down onto the bed, hovering over him. Not rough, not desperate—just utterly sure, the way an Alpha in rut might act, except Lior met him, matched him, pulled him closer until there was no space left.
Hands roamed, lips brushed down jaw and throat, lingering too long on the spot where a mark might bloom. Lior shuddered, nails digging into Kaein's arm.
A sound tore from Lior's throat—half a whimper, half a growl. His nails dug lightly into Kaein's arm as he gave in, his pheromones surging unchecked. Kaein's body reacted instantly, hips pinning him firmer to the wall, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.
Kaein broke the kiss only to murmur, "Let me mark you. Just for tonight."
The request made his breath hitch. A temporary mark—intimate, binding, yet not forever. Equal, chosen.
The world shrank to touch, scent, heat. Kaein's lips dragged down Lior's throat, hovering over the spot where a mark would bloom. "Here?" he asked, voice husky. "Do you want to claim me here?"
Lior gasped, his body arching. "Kaein…"
Not yet. Not permanent. But the promise burned between them.
"…Will it hurt?" Lior whispered.
"Not with me."
The first press of teeth was a promise, not a claim. Lior gasped, clutching at Kaein's shoulders as warmth spread through him, not pain but a dizzying comfort. His own instincts rose in answer, sharp and desperate—he marked back, trembling but certain, leaving his own claim in return.
When his teeth grazed over that tender place, Lior gasped, arching into him, every nerve lit. The world blurred into touch, heat, pheromones thick in the air until nothing else existed.
It wasn't lust for conquest. It was passion—messy, overwhelming, but threaded with something fragile and real. Each kiss, each desperate press of their hands, whispered the same truth: they belonged, no matter what Lunar meant.
Hours later, tangled in sheets, their breaths uneven but soft, Lior rested against Kaein's chest. The bite mark glowed faint on his skin, not permanent, yet burning with promise.
"Still scared?" Kaein murmured, stroking his hair.
"Yes," Lior admitted. Then, quieter: "But less, when you're here."
Kaein kissed the crown of his head. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."
Kaein pulled back only to lift him easily, carrying him toward the bed as if weightless. He laid Lior down, crawling over him, pinning him in place without force—just presence, overwhelming and tender all at once.
"You're mine," Kaein murmured, mouth brushing Lior's jaw, collarbone, chest. "And I'm yours. No journal, no definition changes that."
Their scents tangled, soaked into the sheets, a storm of desire and reassurance. Lior's body trembled as Kaein pressed kisses down his skin, lingering, worshipful. Each touch left him gasping, every nerve alight.
And when Lior finally tilted his head, baring his throat with trembling surrender, Kaein's answering growl was almost feral. His teeth grazed the delicate skin, not breaking it, not yet—just enough pressure to leave a ghost of a mark. A promise.
Lior's breath hitched, his hands fisting in the sheets. "Temporary," he whispered.
"Tonight," Kaein agreed, sealing the words with another kiss.
Kaein brushed his thumb over the spot he'd claimed. "Now they'll smell you on me."
"And you on me," Lior whispered, dazed, a flush across his cheeks.
"Exactly."
When they finally pulled apart, breaths ragged, the faint marks on each other's skin glowed in the low light.
The room settled into silence, filled with their mingled scents, heavy but not suffocating—like belonging. For the first time in years, Lior didn't feel like he was drifting. He felt anchored. Wanted.
Kaein pulled him down to the bed, tucking him against his chest.
"Sleep," he murmured, lips brushing his hair. "Tomorrow will come fast."
But Lior didn't sleep right away. He stayed awake just a little longer, breathing in the warmth of Kaein's arms, letting himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn't alone anymore.
It was not the bond yet, not the full claiming—but it was close, intimate in a way that seared through Lior's fears. For the first time, the idea of being Lunar didn't feel like a curse. It felt like power, and it felt like home.