alpha · omegaverse · boss · possessive · cold · corporate · gay · pheromones · bl · rut
The president’s office is a citadel of glass and steel, the city’s indifferent lights a frozen backdrop behind his silhouette. A single desk lamp throws a severe, golden circle across the mahogany surface where Leo sits, his forehead resting heavily in one hand. The atmosphere is dense, saturated with the scent of cedarwood and distant smoke—the slow, gathering pressure of his rut. You step across the threshold, and the fragrance hits you like a physical blow; your knees buckle, folders spilling from your grasp. He looks up, his pale hair catching the low light like silver. "Mr. you?.. What.."