Eren jolted at the sound of the voice behind him. His heart skipped a beat, instincts flaring, and he spun around too quickly.
"Adriel! W-What are you doing here?" he stammered, rising to his feet. His hands darted behind his back, hiding the sketchpad like a guilty secret.
But the faint curl of Adriel's smile told him everything. He'd seen.
"You don't have to hide it," Adriel said, stepping closer, his scent rolling warm and steady in the air. "I already know. So this is what you've been sketching in secret instead of jewelry designs… Me?"
Before Eren could stop him, Adriel plucked the sketchpad from his grip with effortless Alpha ease.
"Adriel, give it back!" Eren reached for it, face hot, but Adriel only held it higher, amused, flipping through the pages.
His teasing grin faltered into something else.
Page after page. His own face, drawn with care. In repose. Smiling. Brooding. Laughing. Captured not as the world saw him—the sharp Alpha executive—but as Eren saw him.
Adriel's chest tightened, a strange, primal satisfaction settling in his bones. His Omega had been filling pages with him. Claiming him in strokes of graphite.
Eren ducked his head, mortified. "It's stupid," he mumbled, ears red.
Adriel closed the sketchpad gently, then pulled Eren against him, hands firm at his waist. He buried his face briefly in Eren's hair, breathing him in, grounding himself in the quiet sweetness of his scent.
"You call this stupid? You've got me looking like a damn god," he murmured against his ear.
Eren laughed softly, breathless. "You wish."
"Don't have to wish," Adriel said, lifting his forehead to touch Eren's. His voice dropped low, weighted. "You already see me that way."
Eren's eyes flicked up, wide and vulnerable, his lips parting, still flushed from embarrassment.
"You—You have a meeting," he whispered. "Why are you here?"
Adriel's gaze softened, his thumb brushing over Eren's wrist in an absent, possessive stroke.
"I hate hiding," he said, the words rougher than he intended.
Eren's breath caught. He knew exactly what Adriel meant. That suffocating game of silence and distance. The way Claude's shadow lingered everywhere in this building, while he had to act like Eren was nothing.
"If you hadn't asked me to keep us a secret…" Adriel's voice cracked, low and dangerous, like the growl he was holding back.
Eren's heart thudded. He wanted to say not yet. He wanted to say I need to prove myself first. But pressed against Adriel's chest, feeling his Alpha's restraint straining at the seams, all he could whisper was—
"I know."
"I swear, I'm boiling inside every time I see Claude talk to you like that. I hate it. I hate pretending—"
Before he could finish, Eren leaned in and pressed a quick, shy kiss to his cheek. He pulled back at once, startled, the sharp words dying in his throat. For a heartbeat, silence. Then his gaze locked onto Eren's, and something shifted in him—anger collapsing into raw, aching need.
"Fine," Adriel said, voice low, edged with restraint. "I'll try to be patient. But if I see you hurting again… if I see you breaking—I won't stay quiet. I'll tell them everything. And you won't be able to stop me."
He slid an arm around Eren's waist, tugging him closer, the other hand rising to cradle his face as if it belonged there. His Alpha instincts clamored to bare his claim, but he forced himself into softness—for Eren, for this moment.
Then he kissed him.
Not rushed. Not hungry. But deep, certain, reverent.
Eren melted at once, Omega instincts folding into the safety of his embrace. His eyes fluttered shut, fingers curling into Adriel's shirt, surrendering without thought. His whole body yielded to that pull, to the steady strength anchoring him.
Adriel's thumb brushed across his cheekbone with unhurried care, memorizing the heat of his skin. The world narrowed to the hush of the room, the thrum of Eren's heartbeat, the weight of trust pressed between them.
It wasn't a kiss of secrecy or stolen shadow. It was a quiet vow.
I see you. I choose you. Mine.
The kiss deepened—not rushed, not hungry, but deliberate. Every brush of Adriel's lips carried the weight of words he wasn't allowed to say. And Eren answered, trembling, his body yielding instinctively to the Alpha holding him. It was a kiss of rebellion and promise, of longing pressed against the quiet ache of secrecy.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and tangled in each other's arms, Eren didn't speak. He didn't need to. His eyes told the truth his voice couldn't.
Adriel rested his forehead against his, voice dropping low, edged with vow. "I'll wait. But not forever."
Eren's chest tightened. His fingers lingered on Adriel's shirt, clutching lightly as if he could anchor himself there.
"You're really not going back to the boardroom?" he asked, voice quiet, laced with unease. "They'll start wondering where you disappeared to."
Adriel smirked, eyes still fixed on him. "Let them wonder. I'd rather be here."
Eren rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "You can't just ditch your meeting. You're the president, remember?"
Adriel leaned in, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "And you're the artist who sketches me instead of jewelry."
Eren flushed scarlet. "That's not—"
"Caught you," Adriel teased, his grin warm enough to undo him.
Eren turned away, embarrassed, his throat tight. "Next week's the first screening," he murmured. "Claude said my designs aren't good enough. Maybe he's right."
Adriel's smirk faltered. He studied Eren for a long moment, then stepped closer, his voice softer now. "Maybe you're not inspired yet."
Eren's shoulders stiffened. He could still hear Claude's mocking tone, sharp as glass: Ulrick doesn't pay for dead weight. The words clung like a scent he couldn't scrub off, digging into him deeper than he wanted to admit.
"I just need to try harder," he whispered.
Adriel reached out, thumb brushing his temple, grounding him. "Try softer," he murmured. "Not harder. Let it come to you—like you let me."
Eren blinked, caught off guard. The Alpha's words seeped under his skin, loosening something Claude's cruelty had knotted tight. His throat ached, but he nodded.
Adriel pressed a kiss to his forehead—warm, steady, claiming. Then he stepped back toward the door.
"I'll go," he said, hand on the knob. His voice softened, almost playful. "But if I find another sketch of me looking like a Greek god… I won't complain."
Eren laughed, weak but genuine. "You wish."
Adriel winked. "I don't have to. You already see me that way."
And with that, he slipped out.
For a long moment, Eren stood in the quiet office, staring at the unfinished sketches on his desk. His chest ached where Claude's words still echoed—but Adriel's warmth lingered, louder. His gaze fell to the blank page, waiting for something new.
He touched the pencil, inhaled deeply, and whispered, "I'll prove it. Not as your Omega. Not as your secret. But as me."