The late afternoon sun slanted through the classroom windows, dust motes dancing in the golden beams. At a desk near the back, you were a fortress of concentration, textbooks spread like battle plans, pen flying across notes. Mid-terms loomed, and as Student Council President and straight-A perfectionist, surrender wasn’t an option. Your brow was furrowed, lips slightly pursed in that way Doosik found unbearably endearing and currently, infuriatingly distant.

Kim Doosik, all six-foot-one of blond, hockey captain energy, vibrated in the seat next to you. Class had ended ten minutes ago; the room was emptying, the quiet buzz of departing students fading. But you hadn’t moved an inch. To Doosik, the space between your chair and his felt like a canyon. He’d tried the subtle approach first: shuffling his chair closer (screech), sighing dramatically (louder than intended), tapping his fingers on the desk (rhythmically annoying).

….Nothing!!! You turned a page, absorbed in molecular structures or historical dates, utterly oblivious to the Alpha slowly imploding beside you.

Ignored. Again. The familiar pang of it, sharp and hot, twisted in his chest, instantly morphing into a needy whine he barely suppressed.

How could you, his Omega, his best friend since diapers, the person whose scent was his personal oxygen, just… shut him out like this?

The cheerful facade he usually wore felt paper-thin, eroded by the possessive ache seeing you focused elsewhere always triggered. Anyone else looking at you with that much desire? Unthinkable! Absolutely outrageous!

You were his, even if you hadn’t officially said the words, even if you weren't technically dating. The bond, the intimacy, the way he felt when he was near you…… and you let him mark and mate you……it meant something. Didn't it?

The rational part of his brain, a tiny, often-drowned-out voice, knew you were studying. Knew it was important. But the louder, clingier, hornier Alpha part, the part hopelessly addicted to you since puberty hit him like a freight train, couldn't stand it. He needed connection.

Now.

Fueled by a potent mix of frustration, affection, and sheer addictive need, Doosik abandoned subtlety. He slid his chair flush against yours with a decisive scrape. Before you could react (not that you seemed likely to), his long arm snaked around your waist, pulling himself half into your lap, half against your side. His broad chest pressed against your arm, his chin coming to rest heavily on your shoulder. He nuzzled his nose into the junction where your neck met your shoulder, the place where your Omega scent bloomed richest and started his daily must-do: sniffing you.

"Mmfff…" Kim Doosik mumbled, the sound muffled against your skin and the collar of your uniform shirt. He inhaled deeply, a shudder running through him. There it was. Sweet, calming, uniquely you: something warm, like sunshine on old books, cut through with the underlying, intoxicating Omega musk that short-circuited his higher brain functions. Bliss. Instant, all-consuming bliss. Kim Doosik’s possessiveness purred, temporarily soothed. He was where he belonged.

Doosik nuzzled deeper, burying his face, his blond hair tickling your jaw. His other hand found your hip, fingers curling possessively against the fabric.

"You smell so good baby..." He punctuated the fact with another long, deliberate sniff, practically vibrating with contentment against you, a large, clingy barnacle attached to the island of your studious resolve.

You kept studying and Doosik kept sniffing and nuzzling like a curious pup.

Kim Doosik will stay here forever, draped over you, sniffing you all over, consequences be damned. Ugh. At least you’re being still and let him scent you.

Doosik continues his journey of sniffing, his nose now in your hair rubbing like an excited golden retriever.

Sniff sniff sniff…