[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary Chapter 227: Apron

Neville pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, wiping away a thin sheen of sweat as he looked at his work.

The potatoes had been boiled and mashed until creamy, layered with seasoned ground beef, and topped with a generous helping of lted cheese. Now, it sat inside the heating unit that functioned like an oven, back from Earth. The tir displayed twenty minutes remaining.

At least baking requires minimal knife work. Given the current... situation, Neville wasn’t really confident in his ability to handle sharp objects without incident.

Am I getting carried away too easily? Neville thought, acutely aware of the arms wrapped around his waist.

Stupid. So stupid.

The dirty dishes piled in the sink caught his attention. Mixing bowls, cutting boards, various utensils, all piled up since ’yesterday’.

Neville imdiately trotted over to clean it up as an excuse. He deliberately ignored Grayson’s grip tightening for a mont before loosening.

Of course, it was expected for Grayson to follow him. It seed that wishing for a personal space was sothing that existed only in Neville’s imagination at this point.

"I need to do the dishes." Neville turned on the water, reaching for the scrub brush. His voice ca out flatter than intended. "Which ans I need to move around. So, you have to step back."

"Hmm."

That noncommittal sound clearly did not an much, but Grayson still retreated a single step to not hinder Neville’s movent. It was surprising that Grayson even ignored the fact that there was an automatic dishwasher, an interstellar level of equipnt below the sink.

Neville secretly shrugged and thought, a man who had never entered a kitchen surely didn’t even know about it. Guess, I’m lucky.

Neville focused on the task at hand. The water was warm against his skin as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn patch of dried sauce on one of the mixing bowls.

Behind him, Grayson watched as if he could bore holes into his skin with his gaze.

The light from the floor-to-ceiling window was enough to illuminate the whole living and kitchen area. However, it did cast a beautiful soft glow over Neville’s figure.

There was a slight curve of his spine as he leaned over the sink, making his shirt cling loosely to his back. His shoulders and arm muscles moved and beca toned with the shadow and lighting with each scrubbing motion.

As he lowered his head slightly, it exposed his flawless nape, showing his defenseless secondary gland. There was sothing almost obscene and wholeso about watching Neville do such a mundane task.

The water splashed everywhere and trailed against his forearms down to his wrists. So even splashed on his slender wrists, dripping from his fingertips, then sliding down his bare forearms. The droplets caught the light in a way that could only be described as indescribably attractive.

Grayson’s jaw tightened.

His rut had already entered the calm and control phase, making him not that desperate compared to the first wave. But with the seductive Neville in sight, he couldn’t help but feel the irresistible heat that demanded satisfaction. His skin began rippling faint scales just imagining it; it was responding to his possessive hunger.

If he keeps getting wet like this, I won’t be able to stop myself, and Neville wouldn’t like it either.

As he thought of this, Grayson decisively turned and walked away, silent enough that Neville didn’t notice. Grayson grabbed what he needed from the bedroom closet and returned to the kitchen.

Neville had made decent progress on the dishes. His movents were efficient, almost aggressive in their thoroughness. It was as if he could scrub away the awkwardness of their situation along with the food residue.

"Hold on."

Neville was slightly startled at the call. Before he could turn around, a fabric brushed against his shoulders. It was a dark blue apron with a minimal geotric pattern that was promptly slid over his head.

Grayson reached around him, gathering the ties at the back.

The problem was that ’gathering the ties’ required Grayson to press close. So close that his chest aligned with Neville’s back unnecessarily. His hips bracketed the other’s hips, and his fingers worked at the strings with more seriousness than necessary.

Neville felt his eye twitch as he watched this happen.

"You kept grinding on ." The words left his mouth before he could think. "Are you sure you just want to tie the apron on my back?"

The movent behind him suddenly paused.

Then, slowly, a low chuckle vibrated against Neville’s spine. Grayson had already finished tying the bow, but his hands didn’t move away. Instead, they settled on Neville’s hipbones, thumbs tracing idle circles through the apron fabric.

"Well." Grayson’s voice had dropped low and slightly hoarse. "If you give permission, I can do more."

This man... really. Given an inch will definitely go for more than a mile.

Neville’s grip on the scrub brush tightened.

But before he could think of what to say, Grayson already leaned in. He felt Grayson’s warm and slightly uneven breathing on his ear.

"How about letting have a bite?" The words ca out hoarse, rough with barely restrained desire and yearning. "Hm?"

Every muscle in Neville’s body froze in place. He could hear his internal warning system absolutely going ballistic.

Biting.

BITING?!

In the ABO dynamics of this world, a bite wasn’t just... a bite. The neck was where the voronasal organ was located, was the location of the pheromone glands. An alpha biting an oga there ant marking. It ant bonding. It ant a biological and legal entanglent that couldn’t be easily undone.

"NO."

The word escaped from Neville’s mouth with enough impact to startle them both. The scrub brush clattered into the sink. His shoulders had gone stiff, and his heart hamred against his ribs like it was trying to escape.

Behind him, Grayson had gone completely still.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Grayson withdrew his hands from his body as if he had been burned. He took a step back, then another, putting distance between them with an expression that changed rapidly.

He looked... hurt?