The quiet of the flight residence lingered long after the suitcases were closed. The polished wood floors and the faint hum of central ventilation still carried the warmth of the week Kaein and Lior had spent there, away from the city's pulse. Yet, as dawn slipped across the horizon, both knew it was time to return to the rhythm of their true home.
Lior moved first, his tall frame bent over the suitcase with a stubbornness that revealed itself in every motion. He folded Kaein's shirts too neatly, slipped in the scent-washed hoodie as though it were sacred, and pressed down on the zipper until it closed with a low metallic sigh. His pheromones, strong and persistent, rolled through the space in waves that clung to Kaein's skin even when he stood across the room.
"Are you sure you packed everything?" Lior's voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if by asking he could stall the inevitability of leaving.
Kaein, standing near the window with his hand brushing the curtains, turned with a small smile. His gaze softened in the way it always did when it fell upon Lior—like moonlight drawn to its own reflection. "I checked twice. You've checked thrice. Nothing's left behind."
But Lior didn't move. His hand rested against the suitcase handle, knuckles pale. The bond between them thrummed, a low persistent hum beneath their ribcages. It had grown heavier with each passing day, pheromones intensifying like tides pulled toward an inevitable storm.
"You don't want to leave, do you?" Kaein murmured, closing the distance.
Lior's eyes flickered, molten silver under the soft morning light. "I want you where I can see you. That's all. Here, there—it doesn't matter. But the moment I imagine you walking out of my sight, I…" His words trailed into silence, but his pheromones said the rest—thickening the air, pushing heat into Kaein's veins until his breath hitched.
Kaein placed a hand against Lior's chest, steady but gentle, grounding them both. "We're not separating. We're just… moving back. My apartment still smells of us. It hasn't forgotten."
The reassurance was enough to coax a reluctant exhale from Lior. He bent, brushed his lips over Kaein's temple—brief, reverent—and finally pulled the suitcase upright.
The journey back was quiet, yet charged. Lior insisted on driving, his hand never straying far from Kaein's thigh, brushing absently as though confirming his presence. The city lights welcomed them back with familiar chaos—streets buzzing with vendors, neon signs shouting into the dusk, the faint tang of roasted spices drifting through half-open windows. But inside the car, it was only them, sealed in a cocoon of low music and pheromonal tension that seemed to fog the windows.
When they finally stepped into Kaein's apartment, it felt less like entering and more like returning to a temple. The walls held their history: the shelf still stacked with Kaein's books, the framed sketch Lior had once made during a sleepless night, the couch they had collapsed on after long arguments turned into laughter.
Lior set the suitcase aside and pulled Kaein into his arms before he could take a second step. The kiss was immediate—hungry, claiming, yet softened by the ache of having been apart from the familiar scent of this place.
"I missed this," Lior whispered against his lips. "Not just you. Us. The home we built."
Kaein's response was to kiss him deeper, letting the pheromones between them flare unchecked until the air grew almost dizzying. They staggered toward the couch, half-laughing, half-drowning in the rush of belonging.
---
Later, with the suitcase forgotten, they cooked together in the small kitchen. The routine was deceptively simple: Kaein chopping vegetables with precision, Lior stirring the pan with a rhythm that was almost territorial. But their closeness made even the mundane shimmer. Lior leaned too close, brushing against Kaein's shoulder under the excuse of reaching for salt. Kaein, pretending not to notice, countered by sliding a spoonful of sauce toward Lior's lips, watching the Alpha taste with a low hum of approval.
"Too much spice?" Kaein teased.
"Not enough of you," Lior replied without hesitation, and the heat in his eyes nearly burned more than the pan.
Dinner ended half-eaten, laughter dissolving into kisses that trailed across plates, across counters, until they finally surrendered and curled together on the couch, food forgotten but hearts fed.
---
The following morning tested their resolve. Lior, technically on a break from active flight duty, should have been resting. Instead, he accompanied Kaein on the subway, claiming he needed to "escort his fiancé properly."
"You'll scare my students if you hover around like this," Kaein muttered, though his tone was softened by amusement.
"Let them be scared," Lior countered, arm looped around his waist with blatant possessiveness. "They should know their professor is already taken."
At the university, whispers followed them—students catching the sight of the infamous Alpha, strong and magnetic, walking hand-in-hand with their reserved professor. Kaein felt the weight of the stares, but the warmth of Lior's grip anchored him.
Later, during the seminar at another college, Kaein stood at the podium, speaking on behavioral problems and their effects on interpersonal dynamics. His voice was steady, his arguments layered with precision. Yet every time his eyes flickered toward the back of the hall, there was Lior—sitting with the patience of a wolf in waiting, gaze fixed solely on him.
Kaein ignored the heat crawling up his neck and continued, though the pull of pheromones thickened with each glance.
After the seminar ended, colleagues approached with polite admiration, but Lior cut through them easily, wrapping a hand around Kaein's wrist. "Enough theories. He's tired. We're leaving."
Kaein only sighed, amused. "You're impossible."
"And you're mine," Lior replied simply.
---
By the third evening, the pheromones became undeniable. Their bond, already heavy with anticipation of Lunar Day, surged with each touch, each kiss stolen in the hallways of their apartment. Lior grew restless, clinging tighter than usual, curling around Kaein at night with whispers that barely stayed innocent.
Kaein felt it too—the sharp edge of longing, the ache that flared when Lior pressed too close. He tried to mask it with work, papers spread across the desk, notes scattered for the next seminar. But when Lior entered the room, shirt half-unbuttoned, scent rich and magnetic, all ink blurred into meaningless lines.
"You can't focus," Lior murmured, stepping closer.
"You're distracting," Kaein shot back, though his voice faltered when Lior leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
"Then stop fighting me," came the hushed reply, low and dangerous.
Kaein swallowed hard, fingers gripping the desk. The pheromones wound tighter, a coil ready to snap. Yet both knew they had to wait—for Lunar Day, for the permanence that marking would bring.
So instead, they kissed until breathless, until papers fluttered forgotten to the floor, until the only sound in the apartment was the rhythm of their joined heartbeats.
---
That night, as they lay tangled in sheets, Lior pressed his forehead against Kaein's and whispered, "I'll take a break. A real one. For a week, maybe more. Stay with me. Let me hold you without deadlines chasing us."
Kaein, already drifting, hummed softly. "I'll stay. Always."
And with the city murmuring beyond their windows, they sank into a fragile peace, the weight of pheromones promising that the storm of Lunar Day was drawing nearer.