Scents
Summary:
Even Hiroki and Nowaki had their favorite scents.
Every single thing had its own scents, Hiroki noted. So far, his favorite was the scents of books.
As a bookworm, the Demon Kamijou had collected books since his childhood. It had started when he had been flipping the pages, some unique scents tickled his nostrils. He had become addicted since then. Secretly, many times when he was all alone, Hiroki would bring the books to his nose and sniff them.
Hiroki liked to sniff on the pages of new books. He even recognized the aroma of local printed books and the imported ones. His nostrils were very sensitive to the unique fragrance.
Not only on books, the fair man also noticed the differences between the aromas of manga and magazines. He knew how a magazine with its glossy paper would smell. Hiroki could also differentiate how the imported books from India and other countries smelled. Along with the aroma, Hiroki could also tell the qualities of books and how long they would last by the kinds of papers.
Perhaps it sounded incredulous that those scents brought comfort to Hiroki's senses. But most of all, finally Hiroki found his most favorite scents.
"Hiro-san," a tall man with blue eyes and midnight hair emerged from their shared room. Nowaki gracefully approached the older man and embraced him. "Are you sleeping?"
Hiroki's muse stopped. Apparently the men were in the living room. Hiroki opened his eyes and adjusted his sitting position. Next to him, Nowaki loosened his arms around Hiroki's waists, but tightened them again.
"No," Hiroki answered tersely. He nestled his brown head on Nowaki's shoulder.
"You seem so content, Hiro-san," Nowaki smiled, though he knew that the older man in his arms couldn't see it.
"I always am," Hiroki closed his eyes again. He turned his head so that it rested on Nowaki's neck.
Indeed Hiroki liked the aromas of books, but what he loved the most was Nowaki's scents. They were fresh and musky. Hiroki found them intoxicating. Though, not in a million years would he admit it.
Hiroki inhaled deeply.
Nowaki moved a hand and wrapped it around Hiroki's torso.
"Why do you keep sighing, Hiro-san?"
"Hmm," instead of giving the answer, Hiroki rubbed his nose on the soft skin, drowning him more in Nowaki's scents.
xxx
As a training doctor in a hospital, Nowaki was familiar with the disinfectant that lingered in the air. He was also familiar with the fragrance of flowers, since he too worked part time in a flower shop. When he had been younger, Nowaki had worked in a construction circle. Burning coal and dirt were no strangers for him. And for 24 years he had lived, Hiroki had smelled many things. But what he liked the most was the scents of his lover.
Hiroki was sweet. Nowaki also found some other indescribable pleasant fragrances that only belonged to the shorter man.
Usually Nowaki liked to voice his opinions, but this was an exception. He had vowed to keep it as a nice secret.
"Why are you smiling, Nowaki?"
Instead of answering it, Nowaki kissed his lover's head. "Nothing, Hiro-san."
Hiroki shifted a little before nuzzling Nowaki's neck. "Brat!"
In response, Nowaki buried his nose in Hiroki's hair, inhaling the remaining scents of Hiroki's shampoo. "I am your brat!"