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“Because I asked you first”
You almost jump at the sound of her voice.
After walking in silence for the past couple of blocks you had given up expecting Julia to actually say anything. It upset you a little at first, unsure as to what it was you had done to deserve this treatment.
But…now that she is talking…you’re left wondering what the hell she’s going on about.
“…what?”
Instead of answering you, Julia adds, “I asked you first” like that would explain it.
“Julia—you stop walking, turn around to fully face her—Julia, I’m lost.” She tries to step past you, but you’re not quite done with her—with a huff you block her path. She’s not going to ignore you.
“If you wanted my jacket” she emphasizes a little more aggressively than before, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, when you blink blankly up at her she pushes you to the side—and you almost hit a poor woman rushing by—you turn, glare at Julia, but she’s already walking on and paying your near collision no mind.
Sadly for her though, she doesn’t get far.
Not before she’s hoarded with a group of lovestruck fans, they hold her attention long enough for you to catch up…then they disperse with sudden rushed apologies, prior obligations they need to see to.
You take note of Julia’s stiff smile, the tension in her jaw—the way she pointedly avoids looking down at you. She wants to say something to you, but is holding herself back.
You frown.
Step up to her side, lean your head against her arm in what you hope is a comforting manner. You feel her tense at the action, but she doesn't shove you off. You look up at her and ask “What are you talking about?”
She’s upset, that’s obvious enough, even more so when she doesn't answer right away but eventually the tension leaves her figure and with a deep breath—through clenched teeth—she looks down at you and says ”I asked you if you wanted my jacket, and you said no—you said you weren’t cold,”
It’s an accusation if you’ve ever heard one.
And…if you actually had any idea of what was the issue at hand you might even be angry at her tone, instead you're left just as confused as before, looking up at her like some little child lost looking for guidance.
“I wasn’t though? When you asked me, I wasn’t cold” You step back, away from her, glance around in question, maybe this is a joke? You don’t understand many of them—this could be a joke. You chew at your bottom lip anxiously—except, she does seem pretty upset and standing in the middle of a street—surrounded by passing strangers. It makes you doubt this is a joke. You pull at the sleeves of your sweater, look around uneasily—maybe you’ve missed something? Someone? No one here seems to be zeroing on you two though…everyone’s mind in their own little world, worrying about their own little problems.
“Oh—but you were cold when she offered you her sweater?” She cuts through your thoughts.
You look at Julia again, still wide eyed and full of anxiety.
“Yes?” You answer but find yourself unsure. Even if you were cold—even if yes is the right, answer.
Julia stares you down.
And after a moment she smiles.
It does the opposite of calming you down—it spikes your anxiety…it—it aggravates you.
She smiles like she knows something you don’t—you grab at the soft sweater, grip it tightly in a fist, and when she speaks up again you realize you’re not any closer to understanding a thing.
“If you want…” her smile turns sly “I could put in a good word for you”
You blank—that's not what you expected to hear. You turn away, begin walking down the street at a fast steady pace away from her.
You can hear her as she speeds to catch up—hear the way her voice echos slightly in the street with the volume she uses, “C’mon Oro—who wouldn’t want a compliment from me? You should be thanking me! Not everyone has an in with the Marshal you know!”
When she finally reaches your side she tries to grab at your shoulder and you step—jerk away from her.
“I don’t understand you” you hiss out through clenched teeth.
She’s so frustrating sometimes.
“I don’t understand you!” she retaliates—still holding the smile from before but there’s a meaner edge to it you don’t like.
“I don’t—you suddenly look around you, a spike in interest in the minds surrounding you has realizing the audience your argument is catching, you lower your voice—I don’t want you to put any good words for me anywhere or with anyone”
“Really? Are you sure? You’re not exactly known for your charming personality—te estoy haciendo un favor tesoro” she finishes off in a sickly sweet voice.
Yeah, you’re really sick of the smile she has on her face right now—and you know you’re not keeping a straight face when you hear that stupid nickname.
“Yes—I am fine.” is your clipped response.
Julia smirks at you, “really? Because—“
You cut her off. Yank her into the alley—away from the curious prying eyes of the public. When you push her into the brick wall her head bounces slightly but she doesn’t so much as flinch—her ego cushioned the blow you guess—but you do see the flash of anger, the slight rise of her lips in what wants to turn into a snarl before it’s schooled into something much more domestic and controlled. You’re vaguely aware of the silence from the outside of the alley where it was once bustling with rushed footsteps.
You lean up, tip toes and all, and refuse to show your anxiety, because even with her pressed to the wall there’s no tricking your mind into thinking she couldn’t easily turn the tables onto you, but you want to at least appear to her that you are in control right now, “Yes. I am sure”
“Well…you really could have fooled me” soft and condescending is the only way to describe her tone of voice right now, and before you have a chance to process what she’s doing her hands are grabbing your arms in a tight grip, your anxiety spikes as she leans in, those sharp canines flashing, “everything smells like her now” she spits out in your face before shoving you back hard enough for you to stumble.
You just barely catch yourself before hitting the opposite wall.
You would have escalated the situation to actually punches had you not been so caught up in what she’d just said to you. “What? What do you mean?”
“Orellia you practically reek”
“What?” you say, confused looking at her for an explanation as she dusts herself off.
You bring a pale mint sleeve up to your nose, give it a little experimental sniff, there’s nothing horrible strong about it—nothing unpleasant at least, well maybe, some undertones of coco? Maybe she’s just not a fan of chocolate…? But you’ve seen her eat chocolate so? Maybe it’s something else? Something only she can pick up on? That would make sense, your nose isn’t as keen as hers.
“I’m sorry…” you apologize, “I didn’t realize—I didn’t think it was so strong” your cheeks warm. How absolutely embarrassing…you know there's implications around smelling too much like someone.
“It’s not” Julia says much too fast.
You stare at her, “You’re kidding?” One, two confused blinks at her before glaring,“Then why is it bothering you so much” you ask impatiently.
“Because I—“she stops. You see the way her eyes shift, agitated, to the side, the way her nose scrunches at some undetected scent.
“I guess…is it because it’s too sweet?” You ask, you're fairly sure that girl was an omega—actually, you would think Julia would like the smell if that's the case…
“No, it’s just—“ she struggled to find an answer, but as she does so…you think you’ve finally figured it out, if she has that much of an issue, maybe the sweet scented girl wasn’t an omega like you thought.
“It’s cause you have a fragile ego” you break in.
Julia’s wide eyes snap to meet yours, “I don’t—“
“This is like your weird fragile alpha ego thing isn’t it?” You smile, it’s your turn to be condescending.
“It’s not” she growls—teeth bared and all.
It definitely is; and you can’t help but laugh.
“Oro” she sounds so upset.
“Is it stronger than whatever the hell you smell like?” You goat, you're having too much fun with this, “is that it Julia?”
“No—it’s just—“
“Is it better?” You bring the sleeve up and rub it against your cheek, your forehead—like you’ve seen her do with all her sweet smelling little partners' clothing before.
“Orellia stop!” She yells at you—but it doesn’t work. At the back of your mind you can almost feel the order she’s trying to impose on you…and…it makes you laugh even harder.
“…Orellia” you hear the whine escape her and that does make you feel bad. You peek up at her over the sleeve.
She looks so uncomfortable right now. So pathetic.
You take the sweater off and walk back up to her.
“I’ll wear your stupid jacket” you tell her through a small smirk.
“It’s not stupid…” her eyes soften as she looks at you, the air clearing out the tension from before now that you're both on the same page “it’s designer. It’s not my fault you have poor taste”
“You have poor taste—just cause you paid more doesn't make it nice” you say as you hand her the pale mint sweater, she takes it from you with a bit too much force—but you’re nice, so you don’t comment—and she hands you her own jacket.
It’s warm and big and you have to admit, it’s far more comfortable than the sweater.
Looking over at Julia, at the way she holds the little mint sweater as far away from her as possible—you bring the jacket sleeve up to your nose out of curiosity.
But you can’t really smell anything.
Nothing besides the leather and the very faint scent of some expensive store fragrance.
“Julia” you start, contemplating, “I don’t really smell like anything right?”
Because you’re almost positive you don’t. Or…you’ve never been told you do. That’s supposed to be how it works for betas right? unobtrusive. Easy to go unnoticed.
Her head snaps to you so fast you’re almost worried she gave herself whiplash. As she answers almost immediately, with no hesitation, “no” her eyes shift away, concentrating, “I wouldn’t say that”
Curiosity takes a hold as you ask, “really?” Because you do want to know. You really, want to know, “What do I smell like then?” You lean in.
A whole world that you're not privy too. It’s never been enticing before but knowing that some part of you can be read so easily by others—something you can't control—well…you don’t like being on that end of the stick.
Julia is quiet for a moment, and there’s absolutely something brewing in her head when she asks “can I get a little closer”
You are not given a chance to answer her.
She’s already leaning in.
You stand awkwardly as she invades your personal space, crowd yourself against the tough brick wall—it tickles as she sniffs at the crown of your head, you can almost feel the short choppy strands of your hair stand on end at the sensation. You hunch your shoulders in slight discomfort and you feel her bring her hands up—down onto them in retaliation. Trying to keep you still.
“It was difficult to pick up at first” she mumbles into your hair. You shiver at the goosebumps that climb up your arms. And bite back a giggle.
Shes right by your ear when you suddenly feel her stiffen. And then, she’s angles her head right to the crook of your neck and shoulder, you tense.
“but I know what I’m looking for now…”
A memory hits you at that confession.
You remember the day she found you in that panicked crowd.
That many scents high on panic—on the alert. You arrived to the fight late. Already over but you could still help, try and get some of the unlucky people in the tummbled over buildings out.
But first you had to find the rangers.
They would be easy enough to trace by scent. In fact—in a crisis like this where it was hard to keep track it was nice to have something like being able to trace a smell, something distinctly their own.
But you couldn’t—can’t do that.
Especially with that many people. You were relying solely on your mind, on little hints from people around you as to where any of the Ranger could be—as to where the Marshal could be.
You were prepared for that. Prepared for it to take a while. But it was almost instantaneous. Julia emerged from the crowd like she had a personal tracker. You were spooked. Even more so when she said ‘i knew the second you got here’
She found you so fast—so easily.
You’re lost in thought but when her nose slides past your glands and keeps going, you’re shot right back into the present with the flip your stomach does at the sensation.
you realize you’re in more trouble than you anticipated—especially once you feel the warm wet breath from her open mouth on your neck as she practically inhales you. You have to cut off a high pitched whine that escapes you, and you’re thankful she doesn’t comment on it.
Instead she continues with her deep breathing.
Her chest rising slowly and sinking in the same mellow speed, before repeating. Goosebumps erupt down your arms up your spine and before you know it? You're arching your head back, until it hits the brick wall, exposing your throat to her. Wanting more of Julia’s warm breath on you.
And when you feel Julia’s tongue—you don’t mean too. You really don’t. But her mouth on your neck feels way too good.
You moan.
Hell breaks loose after that.
You can’t even tell if the growl belonged to you or her—but you do feel the way Julia’s hands roughly, urgently, run down your arms like she wants to feel all of you—leave her mark on all of you—before she grabs at your waist, and instead of stepping back, out of her grasp like you should, you push yourself up against her and grab at her shoulder. You pull her down to you—enough so that you can reach up and dig your other hand roughly into her long thick hair, and once you do, angle her just right—except—you can’t kiss her like you planned too—wanted too—because you’re being shoved back against the wall, granted, much more gently then you had shoved her and she leans over you and she and roughly breath out, “ni sabes las ganas que te tengo”
It really does hit your stomach in the best way possible.
You grin and hand still in her hair yank her down just a little bit more—just enough so that her eyes close expectingly, just enough you can both breath in the same air—then you say, in a low breathy voice “you say the weirdest fucking things” and laugh, but it’s cut short as she tightens and yanks you into a kiss that’s more teeth then anything.
It really is a struggle with her.
God is it a struggle—Even for you, a beta, you're not supposed to be so affected by these types of things.
But Julia makes it hard, maybe because you kinda like it. The attention from someone like her.
With a deep breath you begrudgingly pull her back—off you, her hands are roaming too much—it’s hard, she doesn’t want to back off and isn’t used to being pushed away. When you can finally look her in the eyes, you ask, “So…do I smell good”
Julia stares at you, confused, dumbfounded really—blinks blankly at you for a second before the realization hits her and she smiles, “yes—yeah, you smell—you smell good. Soft. You smell soft”
“I don’t think soft is a smell Julia” you deadpan.
She grins “fine—you smell like…quiet”
“Julia”
“Not a smell I know” she grins, leans in, “maybe I just didn’t get a good wiff” tries to lean you back against the rough wall, but even with the heat that hits your stomach at the action you turn out of her grip with a laugh that leaves her smiling.
“But you do you know—smell soft”
You thumb the jacket, a little downhearted at the response. You thought maybe she would give you something more detailed, were not alphas supposed to be able to pick weird things up?
Smelling…soft, isn’t very descriptive.
She must notice your dejected expression because she adds, “Like…fresh air?” You stare at her…
“You know” she says, “like when you open a window, don’t ealize the difference between the inside and outside until you do that? Something subtle. I have never smelled anything—anyone like you before”
She looks at you “something I need to look for…or I wouldn’t find it, but Oro” she looks at you in a way that you think is much too serious for some silly fragrance description you could find on a tea box, you almost find it hard to breathe.
“I would find you anywhere”
You look away.
You are fighting everything in you not to snap at her to shut the fuck up—pray the streetlights, the alley walls, are casting long enough shadows down onto you to hide your suddenly extremely hot face.
Swallowing your nerves, you look to Julia—to her neck, with a deep breath you gather yourself and tell her, “come here”
Confused as she is by the order, she doesn’t hesitate to comply and leans down to you.
But not enough, and you have to get up on your tiptoes in order to reach her, but when Julia realizes what you are attempting to do, she leans down quickly and you're able to grab her without too much of a stretch. Your shoes echo in the alley with the force they hit the concrete floor.
With your hands on her shoulders once more, you guide her even further down to you—until you can maneuver her like you want, like you had planned too.
Back against the brick wall, kinda like she had you, one leg slightly extended while the other tries to support her in her new and awkward position.
Like this, you can easily lean in, can easily drag your nose right up to her neck—right to those sensitive little glands—closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. You can feel the way she slowly swallows.
But you don’t smell a thing.
You open your eyes dejected. You stare at her neck, glaring—almost like that's where the fault lies. Spying the little patches on there—you know theoretically, you should be able to still smell her even with them there, they can't block everything out—but you're not built like her, like an alpha, so maybe you just need a little more help.
“Can I take these off” you thumb at the edges of the scent patch and you can’t hold back a grin at the way her eyelids flutter at the action, at the way she slides a little further down the wall, almost losing her balance.
Her answer comes slowly to you and you feel another heavy gulp before you hear a yes so quiet you would have missed it had you been further away.
Your grin stretches into something wicked as you gently circle the patch before you rip the it off completely. You feel as well as see the way she tenses at the action—and then the smell hits you.
And yes—she obviously smells nice. There is absolutely no doubt about it.
But nothing that makes you crazy. Not like all the other people, omegas, that seem to gravitate to her after a particularly hard fight when she's sweaty panting for breath. The way other alphas seem to puff out their chest peacocking their own strengths in front of her when she enters a room.
Nothing that has you salivating…or heart rate really picking up, no toes curling, hands wanting to dig into her.
Nothing.
She just smells nice. Like a heavy cologne, a fancy one and that.
It’s actually…kinda like her mothers scent you think offhandedly—both warm and inviting, but unlike her mothers, which you found to be light and welcoming—never intrusive. Julia’s scent is definitely making a clear statement—and there’s nothing light about it. It’s heavy, bold, and so close to the source as you are, it almost burns at the back of your throat.
Like cinnamon that’s been in boiling water for far too long—filling up the whole house.
It takes absolutely every little strength in you not to stick your tongue out of sheer curiosity and see if she tastes like it as well.
But you’re not that stupid…and you have no doubts that would be a bad idea—It hangs in the air, heavy on you and…you’re not sure how you feel about it.
You’re? You sniff—
You’re really not sure how you feel about it.
The longer you inhale her, the weirder it makes you feel and suddenly you find yourself inching closer and once again thinking of sticking your tongue out—tasting her. It doesn’t sound like such a stupid idea anymore—and, god you’re really not sure how to feel about this.
You are really really really not sure how you feel—you hear Julia let out a soft pained mumble and you realize you’ve begun to dig your nails into her shoulders; but instead of letting up.
You find yourself digging them in more, wanting to leave your mark, and when she lets out a low growl you think—maybe…your tongue on her throat was a bad idea after all…But maybe…maybe your teeth—your teeth could teach her a lesson.
Your teeth could put her in her place you think, and when you press yourself against her a little harder and you feel her hands grab at your waist once more, less gentle than before—when you feel as she tries to rise up from her position from below you, to stand above you—you bare your teeth at the audacity and you—
You pull back.
And—and you sneeze.
Shake yourself off—and and? You’re left feeling a little lost, a little confused.
“That was fucking weird” you can’t help but exclaim.
The sound has Julia opening her eyes, hooded and dark and a little dazed—and your breath catches. You stare for a good long moment before you're able to swallow, a movement Julia tracks, eyes lingering on your neck once more, you track the way her tongue slides out licks at her bottom lip just barely and—and when she doesn’t look back up at you, you have the feeling something will happen.
So you break the silence.
“I like the way you smell”
Her eyes snap back up to yours, something close to pride, maybe an ink of relief too as she lets out a small breathy, “yeah?”
You swallow, give her a short nod, “Like…you smell like cinnamon? Like dark cinnamon.”
You let go of her, inch just a little further. Can’t even smell her now.
You realize how grateful you are of that fact.
You watch as she gets up from her slouched position on the wall, grimace slightly at the pop you hear her knee make and the slight wince on her face has you biting back any mean comments on her age.
“Dark cinnamon? Oro I didn’t think that’s a thing” she throws your words right back at you with a playful smirk.
“Well—you’re already turning away, breathing in the now cool night air, calming down from what’re ever rush you were on—that’s what I think you smell like”
But she grabs at your arm, turns you back to her with a look you think is much too ínstense.
You tense.
Her eyebrow nit, just for a second as she asks “Is? Is that really It?”
You stare at her confused.
“Is that all you smell?” She lets go of you, and you stare confused. She almost looks disappointed.
“Yeah, you smell like cinnamon—you give another exaggerated sniff of the air—and like, something? Thin? Thin air? Oxygen? And also something sweet—another short sniff—but I think that’s just cause we had the ice cream earlier” you smile at her.
She stares at you. Searching for something until with a sigh she turns away and you vaguely hear her grumble out, “I guess it’s a beta thing”
Yeah, you look down at your hands, it must be, you think.