Unexpected
Synchronized Heartbeats
The scent of crushed cedarwood and sweet, heavy jasmine still haunted the corners of Net’s memory, so thick it had felt palpable.
Even now, sitting behind his sprawling mahogany desk at the corporate headquarters in Bangkok, Net could close his eyes and be thrust right back into that Tokyo penthouse suite. He remembered the sickening anger that had surged through him when he realized someone at the international banquet had tampered with JJ’s champagne. By the time Net had pulled his assistant into the elevator, JJ had been trembling, skin scorching to the touch, pupils blown wide as an artificial, violent heat crashed through his system.
JJ’s usual meticulous composure had dissolved entirely. The moment the hotel door clicked shut, the Omega had collapsed against Net’s chest, panting, small, desperate whimpers spilling past lips bitten raw.
"P’Net... please, it hurts... I can't breathe..."
The overwhelming wave of distressed jasmine pheromones had shattered Net’s ironclad control, ripping his own dormant rut to the surface. It was primal, sudden, and devastating. He remembered pressing JJ down into the sprawling king-sized mattress, stripping away expensive tailoring until there was nothing left between them but burning skin and trembling breath.
JJ had been soaking with slick, his thighs trembling as Net spread them wide. The sight of his composed, untouchable assistant completely undone—arching his back, clutching Net’s broad shoulders with desperate fingers—had snapped the last thread of Net’s restraint. When Net thrust into him, JJ had let out a broken, keening cry that vibrated straight through Net’s marrow. Net had driven into him with relentless, possessive strokes, his large hands bruising JJ’s hips, pinning him down as the room grew humid with their commingled scents. Every time JJ tried to hide his face in embarrassment, Net forced his chin up, kissing him deeply, tasting his tears and sweat until JJ’s core clenched around him. When Net’s knot began to swell, locking them together in an agonizingly sweet fit, JJ had sobbed, clinging to Net's neck, surrendering entirely as Net flooded him, claiming him down to the cellular level.
They had remained trapped in that room for seven days, trading feverish coupling for quiet hours of spoon-feeding each other room service, extending the trip under the guise of prolonged negotiations.
Yet the moment they boarded the return flight, JJ had retreated behind his polished shield. He had begged Net to treat it as an unfortunate accident, terrified that years of hard work, respect, and career trajectory would crumble under the weight of office scandal. Net had agreed to wait, but he had never agreed to let it go.
Now, three days after their return, Net had reached his limit.
The rhythmic clicking of JJ’s keyboard just outside the double doors of the executive office abruptly stopped as the heavy wood swung open. Net stepped out, his tall silhouette blocking the light.
"JJ. Inside. Now."
JJ blinked up, his dark eyes wide beneath neatly parted hair. "Sir? We have the board briefing in twenty minutes, and I haven't finished—"
"Now, JJ."
Swallowing hard, JJ stood, gathering an iPad to his chest like armor. He followed Net into the office. The sound of the lock clicking into place behind them sounded deafening in the silence.
JJ tensed, maintaining a professional distance of three paces. "Mr. Siraphop, if this is regarding the Q3 projections—"
"Stop it," Net commanded softly, stepping into JJ’s space until the younger man was forced back against the edge of the desk. Net reached out, his long fingers curling gently around JJ’s wrist, pulling the iPad away and setting it aside. "Stop calling me that in private. Stop acting like we didn't spend seven days wrapped in each other, breathing the same air."
"Net, please," JJ whispered, his voice cracking, the defensive mask slipping. "We agreed—"
"You asked me to forget. I never agreed to that," Net countered, his deep Alpha voice rumbling with quiet intensity. He stepped closer, boxing JJ in, his thumb brushing over the pulse point on JJ's throat, feeling how violently it fluttered. "How do you expect me to sit in meetings, watching you pour coffee, pretending I don't know the exact sound you make when I knot inside you? Pretending I didn't hold you while you cried from pleasure?"
JJ's breath hitched, a faint blush rising up his pale neck. "It was the drug! It triggered your rut—it was an anomaly, an accident. If people find out, they’ll say I slept my way into my position. Everything I’ve worked for—everything we built—"
"I don't give a damn about what they say," Net interrupted firmly, cupping JJ's cheek in his palm. His touch was warm, steady, and utterly grounding. "You earned every inch of your respect in this company. But this isn't just about work, and you know it. It wasn't the drug that made me look at you for five years, wondering what it would take for you to finally see me as a man instead of your boss."
JJ froze, his lashes fluttering. "You... you've felt that way?"
"Always," Net murmured, leaning down until their foreheads touched. His cedar scent unfurled, soothing and heavy, wrapping around JJ's rattled nerves. "I let you set the pace because I thought you needed time. But I will not pretend that what happened between us was a mistake. I want you, JJ. Openly, privately, in every way you'll have me."
A tear slipped down JJ’s cheek. "It's too dangerous to announce right now. If we do this... can we just... give it a chance between us first? Just us, without the rest of the world watching?"
Net’s chest expanded with quiet relief. He leaned in, pressing a reverent kiss to JJ's lips, sealing the unspoken promise. "Just us. Whatever you need."
***
The fragile truce of their private sanctuary, however, did not survive the week.
By Thursday, JJ looked like a ghost. He arrived twenty minutes earlier than usual, but by noon, his skin was paper-white, and dark rings shadowed his usually bright eyes.
In the executive breakroom, Ohm leaned against the marble counter, frowning as JJ poured hot water into a cup, his hand visibly trembling.
"JJ, seriously, when was the last time you ate?" Ohm asked, taking the kettle from his friend's shaking grip.
Kim and Namping stepped in right behind him, carrying boxed lunches.
"You haven't touched your breakfast," Namping said, his voice laced with concern as he examined JJ's pale face. "You look like you're about to keel over. Did something happen in Japan? P'Net’s been working you like a dog since you got back."
"No, it's not Net—I mean, Mr. Siraphop," JJ corrected quickly, pressing two fingers to his temple where a dull migraine throbbed. "It's just jet lag. My stomach's been a little sensitive since the flight."
"You don't get jet lag from a two-hour time difference, JJ," Kim pointed out dryly, crossing his arms. "You're burning through suppressants or scent-blockers, aren't you? Your pheromones are flickering."
Before JJ could formulate an excuse, footsteps approached the lounge. Keng and Latte, two senior directors and longtime confidants of Net, walked in, chatting amiably—until Latte noticed the grim gathering.
"Everything alright in here?" Latte asked, glancing between JJ and the trio of protective assistants. "Net just left for the municipal development summit. He asked me to check if JJ needed anything before the afternoon review."
"He needs to go home," Ohm answered bluntly for his friend.
"I'm fine," JJ insisted, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Really. Net's parents are visiting the executive floor this afternoon to review the charity gala preparations. I have to welcome them."
True to his word, Net’s parents arrived at two o'clock. His mother, elegant and observant, had known JJ for years, treating him more like a cherished younger relative than an employee.
"JJ, sweetheart," Net’s mother greeted warmly as she stepped off the elevator, her husband trailing beside her with an affectionate smile. "You look exhausted. Is my son pushing you too hard again?"
"Not at all, Mrs. Manithikhun," JJ said, bowing respectfully and offering a stack of printed itineraries. "It's wonderful to see you. We have the draft for the foundation—"
Suddenly, the fluorescent lights above seemed to violently flare. The scent of polished leather and floor wax inverted into a sharp, nauseating wave.
JJ's vision tunneled into black.
The heavy leather folder slipped from his fingers, papers scattering across the carpet.
"JJ!"
Net’s mother let out a sharp cry as JJ crumpled forward, his knees giving out entirely. Ohm, who had been lingering nearby, lunged forward just in time to break the fall, catching JJ’s limp shoulders before his head hit the marble trim.
"Call the company clinic! Right now!" Net’s father barked, his calm demeanor instantly shattering.
***
Forty minutes later, the glass doors of the executive wing flew open with tremendous force.
Net strode down the corridor, having abandoned his off-site meeting mid-presentation the second Latte’s call had come through. His tie was loosened, his jacket slung haphazardly over one arm, and an aura of pure, suffocating Alpha agitation rolled off him in suffocating waves.
He found the entire circle gathered in the private waiting lounge outside the clinic: Ohm, Kim, and Namping pacing by the windows; Keng and Latte speaking in hushed tones; and his parents seated anxiously on the sofa.
"Where is he?" Net demanded, his voice dangerously low.
"Inside," his mother said, standing up immediately. "The doctor is finishing the blood panel. Net, what on earth has been going on? He fainted dead away right in front of us."
Before Net could answer, the frosted glass door swung open. Dr. Virote, the company's senior physician, stepped out, pulling his reading glasses down his nose. The room went dead silent.
"Doctor," Net stepped forward, his fists clenched tight at his sides. "How is he? What happened?"
Dr. Virote glanced at the gathered crowd, then fixed his gaze directly on Net. "His vitals have stabilized. The fainting spell was caused by acute exhaustion paired with a severe drop in blood sugar and hormonal fluctuations. It is a completely standard biological response given the circumstances."
"Circumstances?" Net's father echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What circumstances?"
"JJ is pregnant," Dr. Virote stated plainly.
The lounge seemed to drop ten degrees. Ohm gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth, while Kim and Namping exchanged bewildered looks.
"Pregnant?" Latte whispered. "Wait, JJ doesn't even have a partner. He practically lives in this office."
Net felt the air leave his lungs, his heart slamming against his ribs like a trapped bird. But beneath the shock, a wave of profound, fierce realization washed over him. He stepped closer to the doctor, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands.
"How far along is he?" Net asked.
The doctor checked the clipboard. "Approximately three weeks. The conception timeline aligns heavily with an unsuppressed heat cycle."
Three weeks.
Tokyo. The hotel suite. The nights where Net had locked his knot inside him until both of them were shivering with exhaustion.
Net’s mother turned slowly, her sharp gaze locking onto her son. The maternal intuition she possessed missed nothing: the lack of surprise on Net’s face, the protective flare in his scent, the absolute, unwavering intensity in his eyes.
"Net," she said, her voice dropping into a quiet, dangerous register. "Do you have something to tell us?"
The entire room held its breath. Ohm and Kim looked ready to faint themselves as the pieces clicked together in their minds.
Net stood tall, not shrinking for a single second. He faced his parents and his closest colleagues with the absolute authority of a man who knew precisely where he belonged.
"JJ and I," Net began, measured and unwavering, "are together. Our relationship evolved past professional boundaries during our trip to Tokyo. What happened there was not premeditated, and it was tied to an incident I have no intention of discussing in a hallway. But the child he is carrying is mine."
Gasps rippled through the friends. Keng rubbed the back of his neck, muttering an astonished, "I knew those rumors weren't crazy..."
"Net Siraphop," his mother scolded softly, though the sternness in her eyes melted into profound emotion. "You let him work himself to the bone while carrying your child?"
"I didn't know," Net admitted, guilt striking his chest like lead. "And we intended to tell you properly, on our own terms, once we had navigated everything. But I will not hide it, and I will not let anyone question his place. I am taking full responsibility—not out of obligation, but because I love him."
He didn't wait for his father's nod of approval. Net turned sharply and pushed through the door into the clinic room.
***
The private recovery room was quiet, bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight filtering through half-drawn blinds.
JJ was sitting upright on the examination bed, a thin IV line running into the back of his hand. His head was bowed, his small frame trembling as silent tears dripped off his chin, darkening the fabric of the hospital gown.
Net’s heart fractured at the sight.
"JJ," he called softly, closing the door firmly behind him, shutting out the rest of the world.
JJ flinched, looking up with red-rimmed eyes. "P'Net... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I ruined everything. Now everyone knows, your parents are out there, the board will talk, your reputation—"
Net crossed the room in three strides. He didn't say a word; he simply gathered JJ into his arms, pulling him off the pillows and against his chest. Net buried his face in the crook of JJ’s neck, releasing thick, comforting waves of cedarwood to blanket the distressed Omega.
"Breathe," Net whispered fiercely against his skin. "Stop apologizing. Look at me."
Net pulled back slightly, his large hands framing JJ’s wet face, his thumbs wiping away the tears.
"This isn't how I wanted it to happen," Net confessed, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I wanted to take you out. I wanted to court you properly, buy you flowers, take you on dates without schedules or NDAs. I wanted to give you the pace you deserved. But I am not sorry about this child, JJ. And I will never, ever let you carry this alone."
"Aren't you scared?" JJ choked out, his fingers clutching Net’s shirt collar desperately. "What if people say I trapped you? What if they think I used my heat—"
"Let them talk," Net said, his tone turning fiercely protective. "Anyone who questions you will answer directly to me. You are safe with me, JJ. You, and our baby. I have loved you in silence for years. Do you really think a whisper from a stranger could ever shake what I feel for you?"
JJ let out a ragged sob, collapsing against Net’s shoulder, his arms winding tightly around the Alpha’s neck. The heavy scent of jasmine softened, turning sweet and pliable again as the dread that had weighed on his chest finally dissolved. Net held him, rocking him gently, kissing his temple over and over until the shaking subsided.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
Net turned his head as the door cracked open. His parents stood in the threshold, their expressions soft, devoid of any anger.
Net kept his arm firmly around JJ’s waist, supporting him as he sat up. JJ instinctively tried to bow his head in deference, but Net took his hand, lifting it so their fingers were intertwined in plain view.
"Mom, Dad," Net said, his voice clear, ringing with steady, profound pride that resonated into the corridor where their friends still listened. "I know this wasn't how we planned to announce it. But please... meet JJ. My partner, the father of my child, and your son-in-law."
A tear slipped from Net’s mother’s eye, a radiant smile breaking across her face as she stepped forward to embrace them both.
Beside him, JJ squeezed Net’s hand, finally letting himself lean into the warmth he was no longer required to hide.