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Summary
“You…” Seungmin whispers. “You don’t like that he smells like somebody else?”
Hyunjin startles at the question. His eyes previously hypnotized over where Seungmin was breathing Jeongin in, suddenly look a bit higher, probably to meet his gaze.
“He doesn’t smell,” he contradicts him. “He’s fucking scented, it stinks.”
Jeongin is so overwhelmed, Hyunjin’s scent radiating off him violently, Seungmin’s honey sticking to his throat like he downed a whole bottle of it, and he’s slicking, he’s getting light headed, he’s—
“Just scent me,” he proposes. He still feels the ghost touch of Hyunjin on his neck and in some twisted way he wants for it to happen again. It’s stronger than his heat creeping up his back, probably ready to hit late at night by how quickly he’s starting to burn up. It’s even more visceral than that. “Take it off me, if you hate it so much.”
‘I want to feel the softness of roses and honey on my skin,’ he doesn’t say but thinks.
Baked goods, honey, coffee and flowers are a good mix. Right?