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

Neville returned to the living room and dropped to his knees beside the table, scrubbing the stains with more vigor than necessary. The motion gave him something to focus on.

Scrub. Wipe.

Don’t think about Grayson.

Scrub. Wipe.

Don’t think about that alpha.

HIIIK—!

A sudden poke to his side made him almost squeak in surprise.

Neville whipped his head around to find Grayson lounging on the couch like some kind of ancient emperor, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His damned tail was reaching toward Neville, the tip hovering near his ribs.

"What—" Neville exclaimed out loud this time as the tail poked him again, this time just below his shoulder blade.

Grayson looked down at him with an expression of pure innocence. Those silver eyes were wide, guileless—the picture of a man who had no idea what his own fcking tail was doing.

Neville was not fooled by the innocent act for a second.

He turned back to his cleaning, determined to ignore the provocation. The stain was mostly gone now. He moved on to collecting the scattered cushions, still on his knees as he reached for one that had rolled under the table.

Poke.

On his lower back this time.

Neville’s eye twitched.

Poke Poke.

"You’re really testing my patience, aren’t you?" He gritted out, not turning around.

"I wouldn’t dare." Grayson’s voice dripped with feigned sincerity. Neville could practically hear the smirk in his tone. "This tail has a mind of its own."

"Is that so?" Neville finally spun around, his ocean-blue eyes flaring with irritation. The light caught the small red mole under the corner of his right eye, making it stand out against his flushed skin. "A mind of its own. How convenient."

"A tail is quite complex." Grayson’s tail swished lazily, as if to demonstrate its supposed independence. "I’m afraid I have very little control over certain... instincts."

The audacity of this man.

Neville’s hands clenched. Then an idea struck him; it might be a little petty, but it was a good idea to try nonetheless. He turned away from Grayson and made a show of rummaging through his bag, which he had tossed on the kitchen floor earlier.

In reality, his fingers flew across the holographic interface of the system mall.

[Rubber balls - variety pack. 10 reward points.]

[Would you like to confirm your purchase?]

’Yes.’

The items materialized in his bag with a soft shimmer. Neville grabbed two of the balls. They were about half the size of his palm, bright blue with a satisfying squishiness. He had seen similar toys at that talent show a while back for juggling, the one with those ridiculous crystal ball acts.

These were cheaper and simpler for short-term use.

And hopefully, it was distracting enough.

He marched back to Grayson and threw the balls into his hands.

"Here."

Grayson stared at the objects in his palms with an expression of genuine confusion. His tail had frozen mid-swish, curling into a confused question mark shape behind him.

"What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Play with them."

"...Play with these?"

"Yes."

Neville was already turning away, returning to his cleaning duties. He had to fight the urge to pat himself on the back.

Perfect. Grayson would squeeze the balls like a stress ball and occupy his restless hands. Neville could then finish cleaning in peace.

Problem solved.

Or so he thought.

Behind him, Grayson rolled the rubber balls between his fingers experimentally.

The texture was pleasant enough. It was slightly tacky, with good resistance.

His silver eyes lifted from the toys to glance at Neville’s movements across the room. Neville had returned to scrubbing, positioned on his hands and knees as he worked on a particularly stubborn stain near the carpet.

From this angle, Grayson had an unobstructed view of Neville’s back, the curve of his spine, the way his borrowed shirt lifted just below his buttocks.

"Play with it... huh?" Grayson said slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate care.

"Yes." Neville didn’t bother looking up.

He was making real progress on this stain.

Just a little more and the carpet would be good as new.

Grayson’s lips curved into something dangerous. His tail began to sway again, this time with predatory intent. He set the rubber balls aside on the couch cushion and rose to his feet. Three steps brought him directly behind Neville’s unsuspecting body.

"Well then," he said, voice dropping low and dangerous. "Come here."

Before Neville could process the words, let alone react, strong arms wrapped around his waist.

The world tilted, and suddenly he was airborne, swept up in one fluid motion that left his legs kicking uselessly at empty air.

"Wha—!"

The exclamation died in his throat as he found himself right back on Grayson’s lap. But this time, there was no polite side-sitting nor a simple lap sitting.

Grayson’s hands gripped his thighs firmly, spreading his legs until Neville was straddling him properly, face to face, chest to chest.

Neville’s hands shot out automatically, grabbing Grayson’s bare shoulders for balance. His heart thumped hard as he realized that this position was obscenely intimate.

He could feel every movement of Grayson’s bare muscles, every rise and fall of that broad chest. The heat of Grayson’s body seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt that was separating them. This close, Grayson’s fresh water pheromones were overwhelming.

"What are you doing?" Neville demanded, though his voice came out breathier.

"Playing."

Grayson’s answer was a single word, delivered with a smile.

And then quickly kissed him.

Grayson kissed him skillfully. His mouth claimed Neville’s with his tongue sliding past parted lips to deepen the contact.

Neville’s grip on those broad shoulders tightened. A sound escaped him, something embarrassingly close to a whimper.

Meanwhile, those hands that were supposed to be holding the rubber balls that he tossed over were occupied in doing something else. His hands roamed from Neville’s thighs to his backside, palming the curves there with obvious appreciation.

One of the rubber balls, Neville realized dimly, was still in Grayson’s hand.

He could feel it being kneaded into—

Oh no.

"This is not—" Neville managed to gasp between kisses, "—what I meant—" another kiss stole his breath, "—when I said play!"

"I know." Grayson’s voice had gone rough; his throat emitted another purr. "But this is how I want to play."