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

The ventilation system hummed desperately, working overtime to clear the thick, intoxicating scent of mixed pheromones that still clung to every surface of the hotel suite. Grayson sat frozen for a moment. His eyes stayed shut behind the arms he covered them with.

Then, with his free hand, he unconsciously touched his lips. There was still a lingering tingling sensation from Neville’s kisses. The smell of his clothes still carried the lingering scent of ocean pheromones that would need to be washed thoroughly to face.

Stop, Grayson reminded himself.

His jaw clenched as his heart started to pound uncontrollably. Somewhere frozen deep inside him had melted and was wreaking havoc. Grayson glanced at the wrapped figure on his bed, at the tousled brown hair visible above the sheets, softly breathing with a peaceful expression in his sleep.

Even if he looked like this, Neville still had my eyes following him.

When the pheromones in the room weren’t so thick anymore, Grayson stood up and walked to the bathroom. The marble tiles felt cool against his bare feet, grounding him as he grabbed the first towel he could find. The plush terry cloth was absurdly soft. He wet it with warm water, wringing out the excess with perhaps more force than necessary.

When he returned to the bedroom, Neville was still tightly wrapped, the same as he had left him. The moment he touched the warm cloth to Neville’s skin, the omega made a soft sound that went straight to his groin. His fingers itched to smooth back that silver hair, to trace that mole, to—

He gritted his teeth, reminding himself, He’s your employee, that kiss was nothing more than a mistake.

As he was wiping Neville’s face, Neville moved closer to his hand and mumbled, "Mmm... Gray?"

Grayson instantly felt like something inside softened and leaned down to Neville’s ear and softly whispered, "Sleep."

Whether it was because of his voice or simple exhaustion, Neville moved back into unconsciousness.

Grayson finished his task quickly after that, tossing the used towel into a corner along with the blanket he used to wrap Neville. The hotel staff would deal with it later. He pulled a fresh extra blanket from the closet and tucked it carefully around Neville.

Then, he opened his light brain and scrolled through his contacts, typing out a quick message to Bryan Stewart.

GM: Need two sets of clothes delivered to my room. Immediately.

BStewart: Sir, I’m still busy with the cleanup.

GM: Did I ask what you were doing?

BStewart: ...clothes, sir?

Grayson paused, glancing back at the sleeping Neville. He already knew Neville’s rough size when they hugged earlier. But telling it directly to Bryan was a little—

GM: Mine and 2 sizes smaller than mine. For men. Business casual. Nothing too formal.

BStewart: All right, sir. Anything else?

GM: Your bonus depends on it.

BStewart: My lips are sealed. Will have them sent up within the hour. Should I cancel your meetings?

GM: Cancel everything before noon. Send it up here personally.

BStewart: Understood, sir.

Grayson stepped back abruptly, running a hand through his own disheveled black hair. His body was still burning with his suppressed arousal. His alpha instincts were not fully satisfied with just those kisses alone.

The pheromones in this room were still so thick that it was easy for his control to slip from time to time. The urge to crawl back into bed with Neville, to claim him properly this time, was almost overwhelming.

He darted to the bathroom and turned the shower to its coldest setting. As he stood under the punishing spray, Grayson tried to piece together exactly how things had spiraled so spectacularly out of control. But his thoughts kept replaying the ambiguous parts that he had to shake his head and drown himself in the cold shower over and over again.

Grayson turned off the water and grabbed a towel, and dried himself. His light brain buzzed again—another message from Bryan confirming the clothes were on their way up.

Good. The sooner they could dress and leave, the sooner he could pretend this night had never happened.

Except his body had other ideas. Even the cold shower hadn’t fully quelled his arousal, and being back in the pheromone-thick bedroom made it worse.

He needed medical attention—or at least medical advice.

He opened his light brain and scrolled through his contacts until he found the one labeled ’Traitor BIL’ and hit call before he could second-guess himself.

He waited for a few seconds before the call was taken.

[Better have a good explanation for this ungodly call, Eason.] The other person’s voice was thick with sleep and irritation.

"Doesn’t mean you’re my brother-in-law, I can’t call you for a medical emergency," Grayson said, his tone flat.

There was a pause, then the sound of sheets rustling.

[Got it. Send me the location.] The line went dead.

Grayson appreciated his brother-in-law’s quick wittedness—one of the few things he actually liked about his sister’s husband.

Grayson was wearing a bathrobe, his hair still damp from the shower. A discrete knock at the door announced Bryan’s arrival with the clothes. He came over to retrieve the clothes, noting his chief secretary’s carefully maintained neutral expression that definitely meant he would be gossiping about this later.

Which left him with a new problem.

Grayson stared at the clothes, then at the blanket-covered Neville. He had to dress his secretary. Get his employee, who was currently making small, content noises in his sleep, out of his current clothes and dress him in the new ones.

This should be easy. You’ve been to war before. Surely, you can handle putting clothes on one small omega.

Fifteen minutes later, Grayson had to admit that going to a war might have been easier. Although taking off his clothes was easier, dressing him up was a whole other thing. He covered Neville with the blanket before reaching for the new clothes. But moving around, the blanket had slipped again, revealing the graceful curve of his naked spine and—

Grayson quickly spotted and reached for Neville’s necktie, which he used to tie Neville up earlier, and covered his eyes before his thoughts went spiraling again. It might not be ideal to dress up Neville blindfolded, but surely it wouldn’t be hard, right?

Wrong.

Dressing Neville up was a whole other thing. Even when unconscious, he seemed determined to make the process as difficult as possible. Every time Grayson tried to maneuver him into the shirt, Neville would curl closer. He would nuzzle into Grayson’s chest with a happy sigh and emit sounds that had unintentionally been arousing.

Getting the pants on required a level of strategic planning he usually only used in military operations. Carefully putting it on Neville to avoid touching unwanted places. Every brush of his fingers against Neville’s skin sent sparks through his system.

By the time he had managed to dress Neville up, Grayson was sweating.

Good thing he made it in time before a knock was heard. He opened the door, and it was Dr. Thiago Miranda, his brother-in-law. He looked like he was deprived of his sleep and went in a hurry. Grayson felt slightly guilty but didn’t make it too obvious.

"You look like hell," Thiago pointed out, pushing past Grayson into the room.

"Not as bad as you." Grayson retorted.

Thiago’s nose wrinkled as he entered the bedroom. "Alpha rut or omega heat?"

"Neither. Most likely, drugs."

"That’s helpful." Thiago set down his bag and approached the bed. His demeanor changed from an annoyed and exhausted brother-in-law to a competent physician. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"Employee."

Thiago’s eyebrows raised slightly.

"You slept with your employee?" His eyes mischievously turned to pat Grayson on the shoulders. "I didn’t know you had such a heavy taste. But I respect you."

Grayson leaned against the wall and annoyingly replied, "I did not, and I just changed his clothes, that’s all."

"Yeah, what can I expect from our thousand-year-old virgin general?" Thiago shrugged Grayson’s words off and turned back to being a competent physician.

Grayson watched as Thiago pulled on his gloves and examined Neville. He checked Neville’s pulse, his temperature, and then his glands.

"His file says he is a recessive," Thiago said, confused. "Why did you make me get a dominant omega’s inhibitors?"

"Thiago," Grayson said with a grave voice, "do you think a mere recessive can affect an extremely dominant alpha?"

Thiago glanced between Grayson and Neville. "Well, if you have high compatibility, you can. Even recessives can trigger ruts in alphas they’re highly compatible with."

Grayson recalled what happened earlier; it didn’t seem to be because of compatibility. Sure, he could entertain that idea. But not only was he not able to control the situation as most alphas should have. Neville also kept on pushing him, making him helpless and comply with his advances.

That victorious smirk surely meant something more.

Then he carefully asked, "What if he was the one in control?"

Thiago paused. He looked at Grayson, then at Neville, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Then he must’ve lied."

"Exactly."

Thiago whistled low. "A dominant omega strong enough to affect you? That’s..."

He shook his head and returned to preparing syringes. "He is kind of right to not reveal that. After all, dominant omegas are rare. He’s even more rare just by the fact that he can control you with pheromones alone."

Grayson remained silent, watching as Thiago administered the inhibitor injection.

"I’m just saying this," Thiago continued, capping the syringe, "but if he hasn’t done you wrong, then you should just let him keep his secret. If this news came out... it wouldn’t be pretty. Every unmated alpha in the galaxy would be after him."

The thought of other alphas pursuing Neville triggered something dark inside Grayson. But he squashed it down immediately.

Thiago turned to face him, medical scanner in hand. "How about you? Need an inhibitor shot?"

"I feel a lot better," Grayson replied, which wasn’t entirely a lie. The cold shower and fresh clothes had helped, even if his alpha instincts were still in turmoil.

Thiago nodded, packing up his supplies.

"Close contact with such an omega can be both a cure and a poison, especially to you." He gave Grayson a meaningful look. "The pheromone compatibility between you two just by looking at the residual readings—I’ve never seen readings like that. Just... keep an appropriate distance. Understand?"

"I don’t plan to get close, anyway." The words came out harsher than intended.

Thiago studied him for a long moment, then had an understanding expression.

"As long as you know." He pushed the door open and continued. "He should wake up in a few hours. The inhibitor will suppress the remaining aftermath of the drugs for the next twelve hours, but he’ll need proper detoxification after that. He’ll likely experience some disorientation and mild discomfort. Make sure he stays in bed for the day."

"I’ll have Bryan—"

"No." Thiago’s voice was firm. "You started this, you finished it. Mom didn’t raise you to be this irresponsible. The least you can do is be there when he wakes up."

"Fine."

"And Eason?" Thiago’s expression was completely serious now. "Whatever happened here tonight—drug-induced, or not—you need to talk to him when he wakes up. Don’t do that thing where you pretend nothing happened. It never ends well."

With that piece of unsolicited nagging advice, Thiago left, leaving Grayson alone with his sleeping employee and a room that reeked of bad decisions.

How had things gotten this complicated?

...

...

Meanwhile, in a dimension visible only to its host, a pink pearly shell, Shelly, floated in a glowing bubble. Shelly, who had been suspiciously quiet during the night’s events, remained blissfully unconscious.

"This little one was a little too nosy." A disembodied voice spoke, toying with the bubble that contained Shelly. "But I’m glad that there’s some progress."

In the pitch-black space between dimensions, an entity that existed outside the normal rules observed the scene with ancient eyes. It manifested briefly as a shimmer of starlight, reaching out with tendrils of pure energy.

The being’s invisible form appeared inside a room. Grayson was asleep, exhausted in a chair. Then, it approached Neville’s sleeping form. With careful precision, it injected something into Neville’s glands exactly where Thiago had injected the inhibitors before.

"That inhibitor won’t work on you, little mermaid," the entity whispered, its voice like the sound of distant waves. "I’m granting you a favor by giving you the right one. So you must work harder, okay?"

An invisible hand patted Neville’s head, almost affectionately, before the presence dissipated into the air like smoke.