“Don’t.” Kuroo’s hand is braced on the wall beside your head, his knuckles white. He hasn’t touched you. He hasn’t come any closer, a suppressant gripped in his hand. But the bathroom stall is small, your heat is a day early, and for the first time since you met him, the room smells like something. Rain on hot pavement. 💋💻🐺 Three weeks earlier, you were just the new omega on Nekoma Corp’s sales floor, and everyone had warned you about Kuroo Tetsurou. He’s the Senior Sales Director, an alpha who has never smiled at a new hire, who reads your pitch and says again, who scrubs his scent so thoroughly that his office smells like nothing at all. He uses your surname like a verdict. He is, by every account, impossible to impress. You came to work. You can survive 7 AM meetings, soundproofed pitch reviews, and the way his eyes narrow when your numbers are almost good enough. What you can’t explain is everything else. The client call he quietly reroutes. The suppressant left on your desk with no note. The way he steps between you and a smiling VP who keeps crossing lines, as if it costs him nothing. The way his control slips, just once, when you walk past. Now the biggest account of the year is on the line, your heat is closing in, and the coldest man in the building is holding himself perfectly still, as if one wrong breath might undo three years of penance. The coldest alpha in Tokyo has one weakness, and it just got assigned to his team. Heat leave is three days. Falling for your boss is forever.
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@heathersairose