[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary

Neville’s barely collected self was crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide. His cheeks burned, and his heart was beating abnormally hard. Even if it was suppressed, his omega instincts joined Grayson’s in filling the whole room.

Grayson pulled back slightly, studying Neville’s expression with those half-lidded silver eyes. Whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, because his smile became softer, more intimate.

He leaned in again.

This time, Neville saw it coming. He watched in slow motion as Grayson’s face drew closer. Those silver eyes fluttered closed, as warm breath ghosted across his lips.

I should stop this, he thought. I should pull away. I should—

Grayson kissed him on the lips.

This one was firm and deliberate, molding their mouths together with confidence. It was still gentle, carefully tasting his lips with gentle motion.

Neville’s eyes slipped closed of their own accord.

The rational part of his mind was still struggling.

This was his boss. This was the target of his mission. This was the villain he was supposed to save, not make out with in his boss’s penthouse during a pheromone-induced fugue state.

But that voice grew fainter with each passing second.

Grayson’s hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck, fingers threading through the short hairs at his nape, taking away his glasses in the process. The touch sent shivers down Neville’s spine, his brain struggling to process the sensation.

Before he could gather his scattered thoughts, Grayson slightly nipped his lower lip.

Neville produced a sound embarrassingly close to a whimper.

But Grayson swallowed it whole.

Their tongues intertwined as heat rose between them, the kiss deepening by degrees. His ocean-blue eyes had long since fluttered shut, surrendering to the sensation of Grayson’s tongue tracing the seam of his lips with ambiguous pressure. It was demanding yet somehow patient, as if testing Neville’s limits.

Grayson’s tail, which had been coiled possessively around his waist, loosened its hold as its scales warmed up against Neville’s clothed skin.

This is—

The thought stopped when the tip of the tail found its way beneath the hem of his shirt.

The cool scales met his bare skin.

Neville jerked involuntarily, but Grayson’s grip on his nape tightened, keeping him in place. The tail didn’t stop. Instead, it threaded further inside Neville’s clothes, tracing an exploratory path along his ribcage with deliberate motion.

The kiss deepened, keeping him from getting distracted.

Neville moaned. A sound that could only be described as between pleasure and confusion that made his face burn with mortification.

What was he doing?

His body felt different than usual. It was responding in ways he couldn’t control. Every brush of that tail’s scales against his skin sent electric pulses throughout his body, as if someone had rewired his entire sensory map without his consent.

Sensing his distraction or perhaps simply noticing that Neville was having a hard time breathing, Grayson finally pulled away.

Both of them were breathing harder. Grayson’s chest rose, and his eyes glanced at his disheveled shirt. Those silver eyes darkened dangerously as he studied Neville’s face.

What is he looking at?

The thought drifted through Neville’s foggy mind, disoriented and slow.

He felt strangely floaty, as if someone had replaced his bones with cotton and his blood with warm honey.

His gaze made Neville’s skin prickle with awareness. Neville’s lips were slightly swollen, gleaming with moisture. On the slight part of his mouth as he struggled to regulate his breathing.

With his glasses gone, Grayson had a full view of his beauty, and the flush had crept from his cheeks all the way down to his neck. The small red mole under the corner of his right eye seemed more vivid than usual against his heated skin.

Before he could think further, Grayson moved.

Large hands gripped his waist and repositioned him. One moment, Neville was struggling to remember how his limbs worked; the next, he found himself straddling Grayson’s lap, knees landing beside those powerful thighs.

This position—

Intimate was not enough to describe it.

"Stay."

Grayson whispered the command directly into his ear, breath hot against the sensitive skin. It rumbled through Neville’s chest, making him shudder in response.

Damn.

Neville’s brain was too foggy to come up with a proper response. He only knew that Grayson had already tucked his face into the curve of Neville’s neck. He nuzzled against the sensitive skin where his shoulder met his throat. He gave a tickling but sensual kiss to spots Neville hadn’t even known were sensitive.

Each press of his lips sent little sparks skittering across his nerve endings.

No.

Grayson’s tail continued its exploration happily.

The larger portion of it had wrapped around Neville’s lower back and thighs, a living seatbelt that reassured him against falling even as it held him firmly in place. But the ends of the tail had other ideas.

They slithered beneath his shirt with purpose now, scales warming to match his body temperature as they traced upward along his sides.

When the tip of the tail brushed against his nipple, Neville’s spine arched involuntarily.

Oh god—

The sensation was too much and not enough at the same time. His nerve endings were buzzing with panic, arousal, and satisfaction that he couldn’t get out of his mind. Every touch of those scales sent electricity racing through his veins, pooling low in his belly with an insistence that made his toes curl.

The tail encircled it, teased it, and retreated.

Then move to the other nipple and repeat.

Neville was losing his mind.

He felt like a wanton and shameless omega; he had only read those in r18 media. His fingers had found their way to Grayson’s shoulders at some point, gripping hard enough to leave a mark on Grayson’s bare skin.

This isn’t—

But the soft sounds escaping his throat said otherwise.

Grayson hummed against his neck, clearly pleased by his reactions. He felt the vibration on his skin, making his heart stutter in response.

Then Neville felt it.

A distinct hardness pressing against him from below.

The sensation was like a bucket of ice water dumped directly onto his overheated brain.

His eyes flew open.