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

Neville turned slightly just in time to see Grayson raising his hand that was covered with his white liquid. Instead of wiping it somewhere, he raised it close to his lips and licked it.

As if his wide eyes and gripping hands on him haven’t conveyed enough incredulous expression. Grayson even licked it while looking at his expression, very much enjoying every single bit of it.

Seeing him hold back his breath for so long, Grayson hoarsely said, "Delicious."

Then, Grayson grabbed him fast, binding his discarded necktie around both of his wrists.

"Bas—!"

No matter how he squirmed in protest, Grayson had expertly tied it together in a knot that was firm but not painful. His bound hands were lifted and looped around Grayson’s neck.

This position forced him to straddle his naked body on Grayson’s lap with their chest close, their faces barely inches apart.

"Per—!"

"Don’t you like tying knots?" Grayson whispered, making a sound that was close to licking his lower lip, "Did I do it well?"

"No, you didn’t." He said, glaring at Grayson.

"I told you not to lie," Grayson said, then leaned in for a kiss.

"Mm—!"

Neville had no way of backing out of this. He could only feel himself heating up and wanting to go for another round.

Then, he felt something tugging the tip of his member down there, making him flinch a little.

"See?" Grayson whispered, his throat purring in delight, the sound unique to AOs.

Neville furrowed his eyebrows, catching his breath, unable to make heads or tails. His disoriented expression satisfied Grayson endlessly. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, filled with desire.

His lips curved into a smile and murmured, "There." He said as he cupped Neville’s cheek with his clean hand, "You can’t run away anymore."

"I—" Neville’s protest died when he felt Grayson’s arousal.

Still trapped behind the fabric of his pants, pressed insistently against Neville’s bare skin. Even though there was still a fabric in between, the fabric already clung to Grayson’s member.

Its shape was clearer than ever because of his own traitorous fluids. He couldn’t just feel its shape, its size, but also feel the heat of it. He couldn’t imagine how Grayson managed to hide something this big all this time.

And then he watched blankly as Grayson freed himself.

Neville’s eyes dropped instinctively, and his blood drained from his veins, making him more sober than ever.

It was SO huge.

Absolutely, terrifyingly, impossibly large.

Is this even real? Did all the alphas really have this size?

His panicked gaze shot back up to Grayson’s face, which now wore an expression of barely suppressed amusement.

"That—" Neville’s voice came out as a squeak, but said with all conviction. "That is not going inside me."

Grayson tilted his head, considering this statement with far too calmness for a man in the middle of a rut.

"No?" he pitifully said while teasingly moving his lower body in a seductive motion.

"Absolutely not. No. Never. Impossible. The laws of physics forbid it."

Even if he didn’t have the quest, he still wouldn’t let that inside him with a clear head. That’s practically asking to get killed in one thrust.

To Neville’s immense relief, even if he looked irrational because of the rut and incredibly disappointed, Grayson still hummed in agreement.

Instead of pressing him to let him inside, Grayson’s hand reached down. His fingers trailed through the slick that had gathered between Neville’s thighs.

"Then, I think we can only do it this way," Grayson said.

Without further warning, he wrapped his slick-coated hand around both of their lengths together.

"—Ah!—" Neville’s back arched, a broken sound escaping his lips.

The sensation was completely different from before. This was more intense, more...direct. The heat and friction on their private parts were incredibly intense. He was losing his strength as the perverse wetness coated both their members as it slipped and slid on Grayson’s hand together.

Neville found himself breathless, flushed, and burning as he leaned forward helplessly. His head dropped to rest on Grayson’s shoulder as Grayson’s hand continued to move in an intense rhythm.

His gaze trembled, his mouth was watering, and his behind was desperately needing.

The concentration of pheromones this close was almost unbearable, waking up something dark and primal inside him. It filled his lungs with every breath, clouded his thoughts until all that remained was sensation.

"That’s it," Grayson’s voice was a low rumble in his ear. "Let go. I’ve got you."

And then a hand clawed its way to his behind, slipping a finger against his entrance.

Neville jerked, eyes flying wide, but Grayson’s tail was already there. It wrapped around his waist, keeping him steady, preventing his instinct to retreat.

The finger rubbed slowly on the entrance, enticing it gape even wider. His traitorous self dripped even more liquid than before, as if in agreement.

Then, his finger pushed in slowly, meeting almost no resistance thanks to the flood of slick, until—

Oh.

Oh, that was—

His vision went white around the edges.

Every nerve ending seemed to catch fire simultaneously as Grayson’s finger crooked inside him, finding a spot that made him see stars. His ears burned hotly as he heard the slick and sloppy sounds with Grayson’s breath.

Neville arched backward with a cry, but the tail held him in place. It even pushed him back toward Grayson, even closer than before.

Their lips met again, hungry, messy, and desperate.

Until they finally reached the peak together.

Neville wasn’t sure where he ended, but he could feel Grayson immediately becoming energetic again.

He already knew that people in these kinds of cycles wouldn’t just end in one time and that they last till the end of seven days. But as he was catching his breath, he thought that he couldn’t last that long. Not when he wasn’t even on heat.

No wonder it was important to be on the same page with your partner in these kinds of days. If not, you would be the one losing out, like what he was right now.

Neville barely had time to catch his breath before Grayson was moving, lifting him effortlessly from the sofa.

The world tilted as Neville was carried through the penthouse toward what he could only infer to be the path back to the bedroom. His hands were still bound, and his body felt boneless with pleasure. His mind was swimming in a sea of pheromones.

"Wait," Neville managed, though his hoarse voice came out weak. "I need—we should—"

"Let’s move places," Grayson interrupted, though the hungry gleam in his eyes suggested rest was the last thing on his agenda. "Surely you know that one time wouldn’t be enough."

"Grayson."

No response.

"Gray."

Fear and anticipation twisted together in Neville’s gut. A foreboding feeling left him uncertain whether he wanted to run toward or away from what was coming.

He didn’t know how long his wits could hold out against Grayson’s provocation. How many more rounds could he endure before the last step became inevitable? But he didn’t want the last step to ever come because of the quest.

The bedroom door swung open to reveal a massive bed still left just like how it was earlier.

Grayson carefully dropped him onto the mattress and then stood at the bedside. His eyes were drunk in the sight of Neville, disheveled, debauched, still wearing his open shirt with hands bound prettily behind his neck.

"Seven days, right?" Grayson murmured in calculation, more to himself than to Neville. "I can work with seven days."

Neville swallowed hard.

This was going to be a very, very long, dangerous week.

Grayson set him down on those sheets with surprising gentleness, then proceeded to strip off the rest of his own clothes with considerably less grace.

"You can’t."

"I can."

"You can’t."

"I can, and I will."

The bound hands and debauched state made Neville’s position in this argument somewhat weak, but he toughened up regardless.

"My susceptible period triggered because of your rut, but that doesn’t mean my body can keep up with—" He continued to reason with his initial lie.

"Then I’ll take care of you between rounds."

"That’s not—"

Grayson climbed onto the bed, a predator’s grace in every movement, and caged Neville’s body beneath his own. At first, he thought that Grayson would force him, but instead, he pleaded with puppy eyes.

Neville stared at those eyes, closed his eyes in surrender. Soon, he felt the sensation of Grayson’s hands and mouth and overwhelming presence.

When he opened his eyes again, he was faced with those inhuman eyes. Grayson’s scales were spreading across his skin, and there was barely restrained hunger in every line of that powerful body.

Neville realized with dawning horror that he had vastly underestimated this situation.

This was only the first day.

Not even the first night—the first afternoon.

And his legs already felt like jelly, his voice was hoarse, and his body was continuously producing enough slick.

He had to survive seven more days of this.

As Grayson’s hands began to roam again, as that mouth trailed down his neck toward his collarbone, Neville resigned himself to what was rapidly becoming his new reality.

His carefully maintained professional relationship plan had officially combusted.