The morning of Christmas arrived with a hush, soft flakes drifting against the frosted windows of their Verdene apartment. The city below was alive with decorations, but inside, their world was quieter, slower—warmed by the mingling threads of their scents clinging to every blanket and cushion.
Lior stirred first, blinking awake to find Kaein's arm heavy across his waist. The Alpha's breath fanned against his nape, steady, grounding, and tinged faintly with the clean spice of his pheromones. Lior exhaled, his own lunar-sweet scent curling lazily through the air.
"Kaein," he murmured, half-asleep, shifting closer.
The professor's voice was a low rumble. "Mm. Merry Christmas." He didn't open his eyes, just tightened his arm and nuzzled into the hollow of Lior's shoulder.
They stayed like that a while—no rush, no need for words—until the city bells chimed nine. Only then did Kaein reluctantly pull back, pressing a kiss to Lior's hair. "Get up, or I'll never move," he teased.
Lior smiled faintly, stretching. "That doesn't sound so bad."
Still, they rose, dressing warmly before heading out. The streets glittered with lights and garlands, children darting between stalls with sugared bread in hand. Lior tucked his gloved fingers into Kaein's without hesitation. It wasn't just touch; it was a declaration. Anyone walking by would catch the layered scents entwining them—subtle, but unmistakable. Taken. Bound.
They stopped first at the shrine perched on the hill. Smoke curled from incense burners, and prayers fluttered on wooden plaques strung across the courtyard. Lior clasped his hands, eyes closed for a moment longer than Kaein expected.
When he opened them, Kaein studied his profile. "What did you ask for?"
Lior hesitated, then whispered, "That I'll always have the courage to stay beside you."
Kaein's throat tightened. He didn't answer with words, only squeezed his hand, holding on until their knuckles whitened.
Afterward, they wandered through the park, where lanterns glowed against the snow. They bought roasted chestnuts, steam rising between them, and shared a paper bag, fingers brushing each time they reached in. It was small, ordinary, but for them it felt like something sacred.
By afternoon they returned home, cheeks red from cold. The apartment welcomed them with familiar warmth, the faint lingering spice of last night's tea and their overlapping scents woven into the walls.
"I'll make cocoa," Lior said, shrugging off his coat.
"And I'll pretend to help," Kaein replied, already loosening his scarf. He leaned against the counter, watching as Lior stirred milk and sugar. The lunar's hair fell loose around his face, and Kaein had the sudden urge to step forward, bury his nose there, breathe in until nothing existed but him.
"Stop staring," Lior muttered without looking up.
"I'm not staring," Kaein said smoothly. "I'm memorizing."
A flush rose to Lior's ears. He set the cups on the table, pretending not to notice.
They exchanged small gifts later—nothing extravagant. A leather journal from Kaein, knowing how Lior liked to write notes; a scarf from Lior, soft and dark, woven to match Kaein's winter coat. Each item carried more weight than its price.
Evening settled with soft music playing in the background, their cat Witty batting lazily at the ribbon scraps on the floor. They sat curled together on the couch, cocoa cooling between their hands, Lior's head tipping to rest on Kaein's shoulder.
"Feels too quiet without your family," Lior murmured.
"They'll visit in spring," Kaein said. Then, softer: "For now, I'd rather it be just us."
The warmth in his tone tugged at Lior's chest. He tilted his face up, their lips brushing—a soft kiss that deepened quickly, breath tangling, pheromones stirring. Kaein's scent thickened, wrapping possessively around Lior.
By the time they made it to the bedroom, the world outside no longer existed.
Kaein pressed him down gently, not with brute force but with the weight of his steadiness, his body braced over Lior's. Their mouths clashed, parted, rejoined—hungry, but never careless.
"Always smell like mine," Kaein whispered hoarsely against his throat, teeth grazing the skin where a permanent mark could one day lie. He didn't bite—only hovered there, trembling with restraint.
Lior's answering smile was breathless, his own lunar scent blooming rich and heady, soothing yet overwhelming. It coiled around Kaein, pulling him under. "Then stay close enough to breathe me in."
Their clothes fell away piece by piece, discarded without thought. Hands roamed—sometimes tender, sometimes rough—mapping every line of skin as if rediscovering each other anew. The air grew heavy, filled with heat and pheromones so thick it clung to the sheets.
Kaein's dominance surged, primal and raw, but it wasn't the kind that crushed. It demanded, and Lior yielded only to answer with equal fire—pulling, clawing, gasping, refusing to be anything but his equal even when beneath him.
Their rhythm was messy, desperate, softened only by murmured names, by kisses stolen in between. Lior's nails traced down Kaein's back, marking him in ways no scar could. Kaein groaned, hips stuttering, scent spiking so strong it rattled his own control.
When they finally collapsed together, tangled in sheets damp with heat, neither let go. Kaein buried his face in Lior's hair, inhaling until his chest steadied.
"Mine," he rasped, still trembling.
Lior pressed his lips to his jaw, eyes closed. "Yours. And you're mine."
They didn't speak after that. They didn't need to. Their scents lingered, entwined and inseparable, wrapping the night itself around them like a second skin.
Outside, the city glowed with Christmas lights, but in their apartment, the only illumination was the warmth they had created together—fragile, fierce, unshakable.