1. Post-Shift Sniff

She comes home sweaty. You ask to sniff. She lets you. Then… something slips.

Tuesday, Evening

She came home late. Again.
Still in her work gear - tight black leggings and a loose grey hoodie with a faded PE department logo stretched across the back - Rebecca moved like someone who didn’t need to prove anything. Her auburn-red hair was tied in a lazy ponytail, half unravelled around her flushed face, strands clinging to dewy post-shift skin.
She had the kind of athletic build that didn’t feel sculpted for looks, just earned - long legs, toned arms, and a quiet dominance in the way she slouched against the doorway, like the room would adjust to her presence, not the other way around.
Her green eyes, always sharp even in fatigue, flicked over everything like she was halfway between a thought and a decision.
She kicked off her trainers with a sigh, scratching lightly at the waistband of her leggings before glancing your way.
You smiled at her from the couch.
You’d been roommates for a couple of years now - close ones. No secrets, no weirdness. Just easy, open comfort. The kind where scent, space, and silence didn’t need explaining.
“Long day?”
“The worst.”
She flopped onto the arm of the couch, slouching. “I ran around with Year 13s for like two hours. They’re monsters.”
You nodded, but your mind drifted. Over these couple years, you’d caught little moments. A faint whiff when she passed by after work, the natural warmth radiating from her skin after a long run. Sometimes you’d spot the damp seat of her leggings after a workout - and for some reason, it called to you. You never quite understood why. But tonight, something about her easy sprawl and the soft glow of sweat still clinging to her made you want to finally say something. To act on that quiet, nagging pull.
You hesitated for a beat, then spoke.
“…Can I ask something weird?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Weirder than usual?”
You grinned. “Let me smell you.”
She blinked.
You clarified. “Your… butt. Just like. After work. I'm curious.”
Rebecca laughed - sharp and disbelieving. “Are you serious?”
You nodded.
She stared at you for a second. Then stood, turned around, and looked over her shoulder.
“I’m disgusting right now.”
“Exactly.”
She snorted - and slowly backed up until her backside was hovering just in front of your face.
“Fine. Knock yourself out, weirdo.”
You leaned in.
Not touching. Just breathing.
She smelled… real.
Warm cotton. Faint sour sweat. That dry, salty scent that lived in the curve of her cheeks after hours in motion.
You inhaled deeply. Eyes half-lidded. Let the musk settle into your head.
Rebecca watched you.
“…You’re actually into this?”
You nodded - eyes glazed, drunk on her scent.
And then-
pfft.
It was tiny. Barely audible.
A little flutter of air.
You froze.
Rebecca froze harder.
“…Oh my god.”
She turned around so fast she nearly knocked you in the face. Her cheeks were red.
“Did you- Did I just-?”
You looked up at her. Still stunned.
And smiled.
“It was cute.”
She blinked.
You weren’t grossed out.
You weren’t laughing.
You looked... affected.
She stared at you.
Then her lip curled slightly.
“Wow.”
She stepped back.
Shook her head. Still flushed.
“…You’re such a freak.”
But her voice wasn’t judging.
It was curious.