The days of winter had grown quieter, softer, as if Verdenne itself had decided to curl beneath a blanket of snow. It was nearly a month after New Year's, and though the holiday lights had dimmed, the warmth inside their apartment never faltered.
Lior, after his last flight rotation, found himself standing in front of a little jewelry shop instead of hurrying home. His pilot's bag still hung over his shoulder, uniform still pressed, cap tilted low to hide the shadows under his eyes. He should have been tired. He should have longed for nothing but Kaein's embrace.
And yet, his feet refused to move past the display window.
The glass glittered with rings, necklaces, and bracelets — all neatly arranged, tiny prisms of light caught in each curve. One ring in particular seemed to hum with something more: slender, silver, its shape curved like a crescent moon, a faint pale stone resting in its center. Simple, elegant. Timeless.
When he finally stepped inside, the clerk's voice barely reached him. He wasn't listening anyway. His gaze kept returning to that one ring, the way it seemed made for the hand he pictured it on.
"This one," he said, steady though his heart raced.
Minutes later, the small velvet box disappeared into his bag. His fingers brushed against it once, as if sealing a vow, before he finally left the store.
By the time he reached home, the sky had dipped into twilight. The apartment smelled faintly of ginger tea and old paper. Lior slipped inside quietly, his chest instantly loosening when he saw the familiar sight: Kaein, curled on the couch in soft loungewear, glasses perched low, surrounded by papers. And sprawled across his lap, looking far too pleased with himself, was Witty — their white cat.
For a moment, Lior just stood there, a smile tugging at his lips. The exhaustion from the flight seemed to melt away.
"You're grading or nesting?" he teased finally, leaning against the doorframe.
Kaein looked up, blinked, then chuckled. "Both. Witty insists on being part of the process." He gestured to the cat, who was currently pawing at one of the papers with sleepy disinterest.
Lior crossed the room, set his bag carefully down by the wall — careful not to disturb the ring inside — and sat down beside them. Without hesitation, he leaned his weight into Kaein's side, cheek pressing to his shoulder like he'd been waiting all day just for this.
Kaein sighed, pretending to be long-suffering, but his hand was already reaching to adjust, fingers brushing against Lior's arm. "You've been home for three minutes and you're glued to me."
"Missed you," Lior murmured, voice soft but full. "Don't act like you don't like it."
Kaein's lips twitched into a smile he tried to hide. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love," Lior corrected, smug, pressing a kiss against his jaw.
Witty meowed, perhaps protesting the lack of attention. Kaein laughed quietly, scratching the cat's ear, while Lior just watched the scene, chest heavy with a tenderness he couldn't explain. He wanted to say it all — wanted to pull the ring out right then and there. But no. Not yet.
Dinner came from the noodle shop down the street. Kaein had ordered ahead, knowing full well Lior would be too tired to cook. They ate on the couch, bowls balanced on their laps, the TV flickering faintly in the background. Lior wasn't paying attention to the show. His gaze kept slipping to Kaein — the way his brow furrowed slightly when the noodles tangled, the way he reached absently to push his glasses up.
"You're staring," Kaein muttered finally, catching him.
"Admiring," Lior corrected again, chopsticks paused midair. "I'm allowed."
Kaein's ears flushed faintly pink. He turned back to his bowl without answering, though his lips quirked in the smallest smile.
Afterward, they cleaned up together. Lior insisted on washing; Kaein dried. Witty followed them into the kitchen, tail flicking like he was supervising. Their hands brushed often, deliberately or not, and each time Lior grinned, stealing another kiss until Kaein swatted at him with the dish towel.
"Clingy," Kaein accused softly.
"Mm. Maybe," Lior hummed, leaning in until their noses nearly touched. "But only with you."
Later, in their bedroom, the night unfolded with its own rhythm. Jackets hung, books stacked, lights dimmed. Witty curled in his usual place at the foot of the bed, a warm little presence anchoring them further.
Lior slid beneath the sheets first, immediately tugging Kaein in after him. "Come here. I haven't had enough yet."
"You've been pressed against me since you walked in," Kaein pointed out, though he still let himself be pulled close.
"Not enough," Lior whispered, voice low and earnest, his nose brushing against Kaein's hair. "Never enough."
Their pheromones blended naturally, Lior's gardenia-rich scent entwining with Kaein's deeper musk, creating something warm and dizzying. It filled the room until breathing felt like inhaling each other.
Kaein tilted his head slightly, meeting Lior's mouth in a soft, unhurried kiss. One kiss became another, slower, deeper, until the night began to shift around them. Clothes slipped away with gentle hands, sighs pressing into the silence.
"You're relentless," Kaein whispered against his lips.
"You surrender anyway," Lior replied, tone threaded with a laugh, though his eyes were dark with want.
The surrender came in pieces: Kaein's hands slipping beneath his shirt, the soft catch of breath when skin met skin, the way Lior arched eagerly into every touch. Clothes were tugged away, scattered without care, until only warmth and bare skin remained between them.
Pinned beneath him, Lior still felt like the one in control — every sigh of his name, every shiver down Kaein's spine belonged to him. His Lunar dominance was unspoken, written instead in the way Kaein tilted his head when Lior's teeth grazed his throat, in the way his body gave way while his scent burned hotter with need.
"Mine," Lior whispered against his skin, breath heavy, as if the word itself was a brand.
"Yes," Kaein gasped softly, threading his fingers through Lior's hair. "Always yours."
The sheets twisted, the room thick with the heady blend of pheromones, every breath laced with dizzying sweetness. Their bodies rocked together, rough at times, tender the next, like they couldn't decide if it was worship or possession.
Lior clung tightly, arms wrapped around Kaein's shoulders, nails faintly digging in as if anchoring himself. Each kiss deepened, messier, wetter, until their lips were raw.
Kaein whispered against his ear, voice breaking into ragged breaths. "You'll undo me."
"That's the point," Lior answered, smile shaky with desire, before pulling him down into another consuming kiss.
When release finally tore through them, it came almost together — two gasps, two shudders, bodies trembling in sync. The bed creaked, sheets damp with sweat, the air saturated with gardenia and musk until even Witty stirred at the foot of the bed before settling back down.
The bed creaked under them, sheets twisting as Lior's clinginess transformed into something else — something needy and reverent all at once. He kissed every line of Kaein's throat, every shiver that passed through him, leaving the air heavy with heat and gardenia.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't careless. Their intimacy had grown into something woven into their lives, as natural as sharing dinner or folding laundry together. Lior clung like he might fall if he let go; Kaein let him, surrendering, grounding them both.
When it was over, they lay tangled in sheets, sweat cooling, the soft sound of Witty's purr humming faintly from the foot of the bed. Lior pressed his cheek to Kaein's chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and real.
"You've been extra possessive lately," Kaein murmured, brushing damp hair from his forehead.
Lior only hummed in response, words caught in his throat. His thoughts circled around the small velvet box tucked away in his bag, hidden just meters from where they lay. He hadn't decided when he'd give it, hadn't chosen the perfect day. But he knew — as Kaein's arms curled tighter around him, as the warmth of their mingled scents settled into the sheets — that he was ready.
Ready to ask. Ready to stay. Ready to make forever something more than whispered promises.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he only tightened his hold, clinging the way he always did, murmuring into Kaein's skin: "Mine."
And Kaein, smiling faintly in the dark, answered as he always did. "Yours."