In the world where alpha scent was often sharp and overpowering while omega scent was saccharine sweet, Caelus' scent was muted—faint fragrance of tangerines and something crisp. Not unlike common beta scent. Thus, the express crew thought he was one as well.
Yet, their assumption was unknowingly shattered when Welt woke up in the morning with the youth snuggling up to him, on his bed, in his own room in the express.
He froze.
Engulfing him was thick scent of sweet tangerines, filling his nose and snapped himself out of sleepiness.
"... Caelus?" he called the younger man tentatively, and here he realised his own traitorous hands were already curled around that narrow waist. He wanted to pull away, but then tiny noise of discomfort slipped past Caelus' lips when he tried to.
So he left his hands at where it be.
"Mr. Yang..." Caelus' eyelids fluttered open, and Welt saw misty topaz staring back at him.
"—Mr. Yang, you smell so nice," he murmured, pressing himself impossibly closer toward Welt's larger frame. "Mm, feels good... but, Mr. Yang... I feel so uncomfortable here."
The youth seek Welt's hand, then brought it past his loose shorts, settling in between his legs. And Welt's palm caught something plump and wet on his fingers.
Pupils blown wide, a growl escaped from his throat. His alpha side recognised an omega in heat, ready to be taken.
Caelus' glazed eyes never strayed from his, thick eyelashes trembled, lips pouting.
"Mr. Yang, please help me."
... Well, since the omega had begged so prettily, who was he to refuse?
"Spread your legs, Caelus. This alpha will take care of you."
