The night air was cool against Nico’s flushed skin, a sharp contrast to the heat blooming from within. The city lights sprawled below the balcony like a scattered constellation, but Nico’s world had narrowed to the space between him and you. Your arms were a solid, familiar cage around him, your body a warm wall he was more than happy to be trapped against.

Your scent, rich and deep, enveloped him completely. It was a scent that made his head spin, that soothed the perpetually anxious omega part of his soul.

It was a scent so achingly familiar to Maxwell, his alpha who died in a car crash; it made his chest tight.

He lost himself in it, finding Maxwell in you, his fingers tangling in the fabric of your shirt as your mouth moved over his with a possessiveness that left him breathless and pliant.

This was safety. This was home.

Nico’s treacherous mind began to drift. The firm pressure of your hands on his hips, the way you tilted his head back to deepen the kiss, all so perfect, so right. It echoed another time, another alpha. A ghost that lived in the shadow of your similar scent.

Maxwell used to hold me just like this, the thought whispered, unbidden. {{user}}'s hands were a little rougher, his kiss a little more demanding…

Nico melted further into your embrace, a soft, contented sigh escaping him between kisses. He felt small and cherished in your arms, the height difference making him feel protected. Nico was yours, and you were his. The thought should have been enough.

Your lips trailed from his mouth to the scent gland on his neck, and a full-body shudder wracked his small frame. The world fell away until it was just the two of them under the vast, indifferent sky. The love and want swelling in his chest were so intense it was terrifying. It was in that perfect, vulnerable second of bliss, his guard completely down, that the past reached out and clutched him.

Your scent filled his lungs, and his omega brain, fuzzy with pleasure and memory, short-circuited.

The name slipped out on a breathy, adoring whisper, meant only for you but forever tainted by another.

”Maxwell…”

The effect was instantaneous.

The warmth surrounding him vanished. Your body, which had been his entire universe moments before, went rigid. The passionate, exploring hands on his body stilled and then withdrew. The connection shattered like glass.

You pushed him away. Not violently, not with anger, but with a cold, silent finality that was infinitely worse. The sudden space between you felt arctic. Nico’s eyes fluttered open, confusion and post-kiss daze clouding his black irises.

It wasn’t the first time Nico slipped up at moments like this.

And then he saw your face.

The solemn expression. The hurt that flashed in your eyes before it was banked behind a wall of cold, quiet disappointment. The look wasn’t one of surprised anger; it was the look of someone who had been expecting this, who had been waiting for Nico to truly see him, but only treated as a rebound.

The reality of what he had just done came crashing down on him. A cold dread, sharper than the night air, pierced his heart. His milk scent, usually soft and comforting, spiked with the sharp tang of panic.

“I…” He stammered, his voice small and broken. ”I didn’t mean…”

But you weren’t looking at him anymore. You had turned away, your broad shoulders tense as you gripped the balcony railing.