Your Vanilla Scent (Junhao)

Jun

Foolish, ridiculous, obsessive Jun.

Even knowing Myungho wouldn't be working that morning—that he had the day off and would in fact be at Jun's apartment later that day—couldn't seem to stop Jun's new habit of stalking the coffee shop. He associated it with his little vampire barista, and that seemed like enough to keep him in its thrall.

On top of that, not seeing Myungho the day before had been torture.

Jun had already been obsessed; he knew that. But now that he'd heard the desperate, eager sounds Myungho made when touched? The lost, blissed-out look, the frantic movement of his hips when chasing his release?

Jun was a fucking goner.

And it wasn't just the revelation of sex with Myungho that had him spiraling. It was the mind-blowing realization that Myungho was so much more than he had seemed (and what he'd seemed to be had already been captivating enough).

Myungho may have looked like a literal doll, but he wasn't delicate; he was strong—vastly stronger than Jun. Myungho may have looked more than a decade younger than Jun, but he had multiple centuries of life experience. And Myungho may have been good and kind and the type of person who made everyone around him smile, but he also had a quite literal thirst for blood.

The contradictions only made him that much more alluring. Jun couldn't think of anything else.

A smirking Alicia greeted Jun at the counter. "You know he isn't here," she immediately felt the need to point out, flicking the ends of her ponytail over her shoulder.

"Pardon?" Jun feigned ignorance, scanning the café menu like he hadn't been coming there daily for almost two weeks.

The redhead didn't cut him any slack. "Our young Myungho," she drawled. "The one you watch oh so carefully every single day. He's not here today."

How fucking marvelous to realize Jun had been about as subtle as a hand grenade in his obsession. His father would have murdered him for his carelessness. Never let them know your thoughts or emotions. Best not to have the latter at all.

And Jun's father never had. Let him know, that was—Jun had no idea to this day if his father had ever even loved him. He'd never said, and he had most certainly never shown.

Jun pulled his wallet out of his pocket to give himself something to do, keeping his face carefully blank. "I already know he's not."

Alicia's smirk deepened, a dimple appearing on her left cheek. "Oh, you know, do you?"

He tapped his card on the counter. "Americano. Please."

Alicia blew out a breath, clearly frustrated with his reticence, but rang him up anyway. "Be careful with him," she warned, the smirk dropping from her face as she handed him back his card.

"Hm?" Jun didn't usually enjoy playing coy, but he also wasn't in the habit of discussing his love life with local baristas.

Only local Myungho baristas.

"He watches you just as much" was all Alicia said, winking as she set off to make his drink.

An uncomfortable amount of warmth bloomed in Jun's chest at her words. Fucking hell. How pathetic he was, to be that desperate for any sign he was special to Myungho.

He waited for his coffee before settling in at his usual table. He wouldn't stay at the café for hours this time—he had a date to set up, after all—but he could linger for a minute.

He wasn't really all that surprised when a black cloud of scowling café manager sat down at Jun's table.

He sipped his espresso calmly while Colin tried to murder him with his eyes alone. Jun had been in the presence of mobsters since he'd been toddling age; he wasn't going to be intimidated by six feet something of malnourished Colorado punk.