I'm not mad. (Except he is. He really is. He knows he is. He pinches his brow, jostling his glasses.)
I'm just feeling - (Possessive. Over an omega that wasn't technically his. He didn't even know if Natsume really wanted this with him specifically or if he was just open for any alpha in the area.
But his sense of moral direction was crumbling rapidly the longer he was exposed to Natsume's scent. God, he smelled perfect.)
[Delighted to have an order, a direction of some sort, Natsume promptly sits on one of the bins of sports supplies. He arches both eyebrows, looking expectantly up at Dirk, awaiting -- praise, maybe.
He'd be satisfied for Dirk to just keep telling him what to do. Keep being grouchy and bossy and standing above him, smelling absolutely wonderful.] You smell good.
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I'm just feeling - (Possessive. Over an omega that wasn't technically his. He didn't even know if Natsume really wanted this with him specifically or if he was just open for any alpha in the area.
But his sense of moral direction was crumbling rapidly the longer he was exposed to Natsume's scent. God, he smelled perfect.)
You don't need to fix it. Just. Sit down.
no subject
He'd be satisfied for Dirk to just keep telling him what to do. Keep being grouchy and bossy and standing above him, smelling absolutely wonderful.] You smell good.