Chapter Text
The distance between Something Magical and Deep Blue Creative was exactly twelve meters. It was a stretch of pavement New Thitipoom had walked hundreds of times. He had walked it carrying coffee, carrying financial reports, carrying an umbrella to shield a forgetful Tay Tawan from the sudden monsoon rains.
Today, it felt like running a marathon through quicksand.
New burst through the heavy glass doors of the office building with enough force to make the hinges shudder. He had abandoned his brown barista apron on the bakery counter. He hadn't even bothered to take off his oven mitts before sprinting out the door, only realizing it halfway across the alley and tossing them carelessly onto a passing delivery cart.
His chest was heaving, drawing in jagged breaths of the humid Bangkok air.
The security guard, P'Nop, looked up from his desk, startled to see the usually stoic, unbothered baker looking like a man running for his life.
"Khun New? You're running? Is there a fire? Should I pull the alarm?"
"No," New gasped, bypassing the visitor turnstile entirely. He didn't stop to sign the ledger. He swiped the glossy black Deep Blue executive pass he had permanently stolen from Tay's wallet three months ago. "No fire, P'Nop. Just... I made a mistake. A massive, catastrophic mistake."
He didn't wait for the notoriously slow elevator. He hit the emergency stairwell, throwing his weight against the heavy fire door.
First floor. Second floor. Third floor.
His thighs burned, and his lungs screamed for oxygen. But the physical exertion was nothing compared to the violent pounding of his heart against his ribs. The terrifying, undeniable realization that Off Jumpol had just slammed into his brain was echoing with every step.
He likes you. He's been in love with you for months. He was testing the waters, and you treated him like a quarterly earnings report.
By the time New reached the third-floor lobby of Deep Blue Creative, he was completely breathless. He pushed through the doors, stepping onto the plush carpet.
He stopped at the curved reception desk. The receptionist, a sweet, observant girl named May, looked up from her monitor. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Khun New? Are you okay? You have... um, you have flour on your face. And your hair is..." She gestured vaguely to her own head, implying his usually neat hair was an absolute disaster.
New wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of white powder across his tan skin. He didn't care. "Where is he, May?"
May didn't need him to clarify. "Boss Tay? He's in his office." She pointed a manicured finger toward the corner office—the massive, soundproofed glass fishbowl where Tay reigned supreme. "But he explicitly said no interruptions today. He cancelled his afternoon meetings. He's listening to the 'Sad Indie' playlist. The one with the slow acoustic guitars and the crying vocals. It's bad, Khun New. Jack is hiding under his desk."
"I'm interrupting," New said, his voice hard, leaving no room for argument.
He marched directly across the open-plan office floor. The creative team, usually a loud, chaotic, bouncing mass of energy, was working in dead, hushed tones. They could sense the dark, oppressive cloud hanging over their CEO, and none of them wanted to be caught in the storm.
Jack looked up from desk 4B. He saw New's face—flushed, fierce, stripped of all its usual icy composure, and burning with absolute determination. Jack wisely decided to look back down at his keyboard, typing furiously into a blank document.
New reached the heavy glass door of the corner office. He didn't knock. He shoved the handle down and pushed it open, stepping inside and letting the door click shut behind him.
The office was freezing. Tay had cranked the central AC down to arctic levels, chilling the room to match his mood.
Tay Tawan was sitting behind his massive, imported teakwood executive desk. He wasn't working. His laptop was closed. He was spinning a silver fountain pen mindlessly between his long fingers, staring blankly out the floor-to-ceiling window at the sprawling, smog-hazed Bangkok skyline.
He was wearing the white dress shirt he had promised to replace—the one with the tiny, faint chilli oil stain on the collar from their late-night street food dinner on Friday. He hadn't bothered to put on a tie, and the top three buttons were undone, exposing his collarbones.
He looked exhausted. The radiant, golden retriever sunshine that usually poured out of him was entirely gone, replaced by a hollow, defeated slump in his broad shoulders.
"I told May no interruptions," Tay said, his voice completely flat. He didn't turn around. The sad, slow strumming of an acoustic guitar played softly from the Bluetooth speaker on his shelf. "Unless the building is actively collapsing, go away, Jack. I don't want to look at the GMM revisions right now."
"The building is fine," New said, his voice vibrating with a rough, raw edge he couldn't hide. He reached behind his back, turned the lock on the glass door with a sharp click, and twisted the blinds closed, sealing them off from the staring bullpen. "But the foundation is cracking. And it's my fault."
The silver pen slipped from Tay's fingers, clattering loudly onto the desk. He went perfectly, rigidly still.
Slowly, agonizingly, Tay turned his leather executive chair.
When he finally looked at New, there was no blinding smile. There was no enthusiastic "Hin!" shouted across the room. There was no bounding energy. There was only a guarded, weary, deeply bruised expression that made New's chest physically ache with guilt.
Tay's amber eyes flickered over New's disheveled state. "You have flour on your nose," Tay said softly, the instinct to care for New overriding his own heartbreak for a split second.
New ignored it. He walked forward, his strides purposeful and predatory, until his thighs hit the solid edge of Tay's desk. He placed both his hands flat on the cool wood, leaning his upper body across the barrier, invading Tay's space.
"Friday night," New started, his voice steadying, dropping into a commanding register despite the frantic racing of his pulse. "At the street stall. You asked me a direct question, Te."
Tay flinched physically, as if New had struck him. He looked away, his jaw clenching as he focused on a stack of unread quarterly reports. "I was drunk on the adrenaline of the gala, New. I was talking nonsense. I already told you to forget it. It was a mistake."
"I don't want to forget it," New said, his tone leaving no room for retreat. "You asked me if it would be so bad if people thought we were dating. You asked me what it would mean for us."
"And you gave me a very clear, very detailed answer," Tay recited bitterly, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You told me it would be bad for business. You talked about engagement metrics. You talked about PR strategies. You analyzed me—you analyzed us—like a failing stock that needed to be dumped before it tanked your portfolio."
"I panicked, Te," New admitted, the confession tearing out of his throat.
Tay let out a harsh, bitter laugh. It was a short, sharp sound devoid of any real humor. "Panicked? You? The Ice Prince of the financial district? Why? Because the idea of actually being with me is that terrifying to you? Because I'm too messy? Too chaotic?"
"No!" New shouted. The sudden volume startled them both, echoing off the glass walls.
New shoved himself away from the edge of the desk. He walked around the heavy teakwood barrier, crossing into Tay's private domain. The scent of Tay's expensive cedarwood cologne mixed with the sharp tang of his anxiety was overwhelming.
"Because I was terrified of losing the only real thing I have," New said, his voice dropping, trembling with a vulnerability he had never shown anyone else.
Tay frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion, his guard wavering. "What?"
New stepped entirely into Tay's space, standing directly between Tay's spread knees as Tay sat in the chair. New looked down at him, his dark eyes intense, fierce, and entirely stripped of his usual grumpy armor.
"I use logic, Te. I use numbers and spreadsheets to protect myself from getting hurt," New confessed, his chest rising and falling heavily. "I build walls. But you... you are a hurricane. You are completely unpredictable. You trip over flat surfaces. You lose your keys twice a week. You buy ugly vintage shirts just because you like how they feel. You talk too much when you're nervous."
Tay swallowed hard, looking up at New, his eyes wide and searching. "So you want me to leave you alone? Is that what you came here to say? You want your quiet, controlled life back?"
"No," New whispered fiercely. He stepped a fraction closer, his knees bumping against Tay's thighs. "I'm saying that I am terrified because you make me feel things that I cannot put into a spreadsheet. I don't care about the corporate metrics, Te. I don't give a damn about your fan base, or your PR strategy, or Khun Tha's opinions."
New reached out. His large hands, usually so perfectly steady when piping delicate icing or executing high-stakes financial trades, were visibly shaking as he gently cupped Tay's face.
"I care that you drove me home and carried me to bed when I was sick," New murmured, his thumb brushing tenderly over Tay's high cheekbone. "I care that you bought me matching suits just so I wouldn't feel out of place. I care that when you almost fell on that red carpet, my body moved before my brain did because my only instinct in this world is to catch you. I care that you are the only person on this entire planet who can make my heart beat like this."
Tay's breath hitched violently. His eyes widened, the honey-amber irises dilating as the heavy, defensive guard he had built all weekend completely crumbled. The hope crept back into his expression, bright, desperate, and blinding.
"Hin," Tay breathed, his voice cracking.
"I'm saying," New continued, leaning down until their foreheads rested against each other, sharing the same frantic air, "that if the entire country thinks we're dating... I don't want to correct them anymore. Because I want it to be true. I have wanted it to be true for a very long time."
Tay let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh of pure, overwhelming relief. He reached up, his large, tan hands gripping New's waist with desperate strength, pulling New flush against him until there was no space left between them.
"You really couldn't have just said that on Friday?" Tay whispered against New's lips, his breath hot and trembling.
"I am a slow processor," New murmured, his gaze dropping to Tay's mouth. "But my final calculations are always correct."
"Shut up," Tay growled, his hands sliding up New's back to grip his shoulders.
And then, Tay kissed him.
It wasn't a tentative, sweet, exploring first kiss. It was an absolute, devastating collision. It was the explosive release of months of pent-up frustration, months of relentless bickering, months of stolen glances, accidental touches, and agonizing restraint detonating all at once.
Tay kissed exactly the way he lived—with one hundred per cent commitment, burning passion, and zero hesitation. He opened his mouth eagerly over New's, his tongue sweeping inside to taste him, desperate to claim the territory he had been denied for so long. His hands gripped the fabric of New's t-shirt, pulling the baker down, trying to absorb him into his own skin.
But New, who had spent his entire life maintaining control, wasn't about to let Tay set the pace.
New made a low, dark noise in the back of his throat—a sound of absolute, predatory surrender. He dropped his hands from Tay's face to grip Tay's shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle. He kissed Tay back with a ferocity that made the CEO gasp into his mouth.
New forgot about the office. He forgot about the fact that they were surrounded by glass walls. He forgot about logic, order, and reason.
New tangled his fingers deep into the messy, soft waves of Tay's dark hair, gripping a fistful and angling Tay's head back to deepen the kiss ruthlessly. Tay tasted like black coffee, spearmint, and something intrinsically, undeniably like home.
Tay spun the heavy executive chair slightly, his hands dropping to New's hips, pulling New down forcefully until New was straddling Tay's lap, one knee on either side of Tay's thighs.
"Te," New gasped, tearing his mouth away for a fraction of a second to drag oxygen into his burning lungs. "The door... Jack... the blinds are only half-drawn."
"Jack is fired," Tay muttered feverishly, his lips abandoning New's mouth to attack his jawline, trailing hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down New's throat. "Everyone on this floor is fired. I'm liquidating the company. I'm locking the doors."
New threw his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as Tay found the highly sensitive spot just below his ear. "You can't... you literally just signed the GMM contract... you can't close the company..."
"Watch me," Tay hummed against New's hot skin, his hands roaming hungrily down New's strong back, squeezing his waist, exploring the dip of his spine. "I don't need the company. I only need you. You're my strategic consultant. Consult me on this."
Tay bit down gently but firmly on the meat of New's collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a definite, bruising mark.
New shuddered violently, a bolt of pure, white-hot electricity shooting straight from his neck down to his groin. His entire body tightened. "Te... wait. Stop."
New grabbed Tay's face with both hands, forcibly pulling the CEO back up to meet his eyes. New was breathing heavily. His silver glasses were slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. His usually pale, impassive face was flushed a deep, beautiful red, and his lips were swollen from the kiss. He looked thoroughly unraveled, but his eyes were sharp, dark, and demanding.
"Are we really doing this?" New asked, his chest heaving against Tay's. "Because if we cross this line right now, Te... there is absolutely no going back to how we were. I don't do casual. I don't do 'test runs'. I don't share."
Tay looked up at him. Tay's amber eyes were dilated, blown wide with desire, burning with a fierce, unwavering loyalty that made New's knees physically weak.
"I have loved you since the day you marched into my office and yelled at me about ruining my own blue jeans," Tay said, his voice rough and incredibly raw. "I have loved you since you quietly fed me warm milk in your kitchen because I couldn't get rid of the hiccups. I am not testing anything, Hin. I am signing the permanent contract. Two years? Five years? Forever? You name the terms. I'll agree to whatever you want."
New swallowed hard. He looked down at the man who was his exact opposite. The chaos to his order. The heat to his ice. The only man he had ever wanted to submit to his control.
"Forever," New whispered, his voice dark and resolute. "No exit clauses. No renegotiations. You are mine."
"Deal," Tay smirked, a wicked, beautiful curve of his lips.
He pulled New back down by the lapels of his shirt, capturing his lips again. This time, the kiss wasn't just a collision; it was slower, deeper, filthy with promise and heavy with intent. Tay's tongue swept into New's mouth, tangling with his, licking into every corner, tasting the submission Tay was so desperate to offer.
New ground down instinctively into Tay's lap, his hips rolling forward. The friction elicited a deep, guttural groan from the CEO that vibrated powerfully through both of their chests. Tay's hands gripped New's hips tighter, pulling him down, securing him flush against his own hardening arousal.
"Te," New moaned thickly into the kiss, breaking away to bite at Tay's lower lip. "Your desk..."
"It's sturdy," Tay promised breathlessly, his hands sliding under the hem of New's t-shirt to finally touch bare, burning hot skin. Tay's fingertips traced the firm muscles of New's abdomen, making the baker shiver. "Imported solid teakwood. It can handle our combined weight. I paid enough for it."
"That is not... what I meant," New gasped out as Tay's calloused thumb brushed deliberately over his nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure through his body. "I meant... we are physically at your place of work. In the middle of the business day."
"I am the CEO," Tay reminded him arrogantly, kissing his way down New's throat again, his hands eagerly roaming New's chest. "And you are the Chief Financial Officer. We are currently in a closed-door meeting. We are... strategizing."
New let out a breathless, broken sound that was half-laugh, half-moan. "You are... entirely impossible."
"I am yours," Tay corrected, looking up with eyes full of utter devotion.
Tay grabbed the hem of New's t-shirt in two fists. "Take this off. Now."
New didn't argue. He lifted his arms, pulling the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it blindly over his shoulder. It flew across the desk and landed directly on top of the heavily negotiated, multi-million baht "Deep Blue vs GMM" contract.
Tay stared openly at New's exposed chest. He took in the broad shoulders, the defined, muscular lines of his torso, pale and smooth, rising and falling rapidly. Tay reached out, tracing the firm line of New's ribs with absolute reverence, as if he were touching a masterpiece.
"Beautiful," Tay whispered, his voice thick with lust. "So much more beautiful than any stock market projection."
"Shut up," New demanded. He reached down and grabbed the silk knot of Tay's tie—the very same tie Tay had likely fumbled and tied wrong that morning without New there to fix it—and yanked hard. "Less talking, Tawan. More action."
Tay grinned, a wolfish, hungry expression taking over his handsome features. He stood up abruptly from the chair, lifting New's body effortlessly with him, his arms wrapped securely around New's thighs.
With one sweeping, violent motion of his left arm, Tay cleared the executive desk. Piles of important paperwork, expensive fountain pens, a heavy stapler, and several framed photographs went flying onto the carpet with a loud, chaotic crash.
"Absolute chaos," New whispered, his heart racing as Tay laid him backward onto the cool, cleared surface of the teakwood desk.
"Calculated chaos," Tay corrected, stepping between New's spread legs, his hands already unbuttoning his own shirt with frantic urgency.
But New reached out, his large hands wrapping firmly around Tay's wrists, stopping him.
"Te," New said, his voice dropping an octave. "Look at me."
The command was low, rough, and completely stripped of any room for negotiation.
Tay Tawan—the powerful CEO who usually commanded massive boardrooms with his booming voice, boundless energy, and unshakeable confidence—froze. He was currently reduced to a trembling, gasping, desperate mess, standing over his own executive desk. His white shirt was hanging open, exposing the deeply tanned, muscular expanse of his chest, which was flushed a deep, heated red with arousal.
"Hin," Tay whined beautifully, a sound of pure need, his head falling back, his eyes squeezing shut as he strained against New's grip. "Please... let me touch you. Let me..."
"I said, look at me," New repeated, his grip tightening imperiously on Tay's wrists.
New sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow. He looked at Tay. The contrast between them was the most intoxicating, powerful thing New had ever felt. New was composed, dominant, and in absolute control. Tay was unraveled, pliant, and begging to be taken apart.
Tay forced his eyes open, his chest heaving. His amber eyes were dark, blown wide, swimming with unshed tears of overwhelming pleasure and relief. He looked at New—really looked at him. He saw the sharp, beautiful angle of New's jaw, the light sheen of sweat glistening on his temples, and the terrifying, consuming, intensely possessive focus burning behind New's glasses.
It was the exact same look New had when he was executing a ruthless, high-stakes trade. But this time, the prized asset wasn't a corporate stock. It was Tay Tawan.
"You wanted this," New whispered darkly, reaching up to grip the lapels of Tay's open shirt, pulling him down roughly. New bit gently, teasingly at the highly sensitive skin of Tay's throat, right over his racing pulse point. "You begged me to manage you. Remember?"
"Yes," Tay gasped, his hips bucking forward instinctively, seeking friction against New's thigh, seeking anything to ease the ache. "Manage me. Take it. Take control. Tell me what to do, Hin."
"Take your clothes off," New ordered quietly, his eyes locked onto Tay's. "Slowly. I want to watch you."
Tay didn't hesitate. With trembling fingers, he shoved the white shirt off his broad shoulders, letting it pool onto the floor. He reached for the buckle of his belt, his eyes never leaving New's face, seeking approval, seeking direction.
When Tay was bare, New finally moved. He pulled Tay down onto the desk, flipping their positions with a sudden, powerful surge of strength that left Tay gasping as his back hit the wood.
New knelt between Tay's spread legs, his hands gripping Tay's narrow hips with a possession that bordered on bruising. He leaned down, capturing Tay's lips in a bruising, claiming kiss as his hands worked to discard the rest of the barriers between them.
When New finally drove into him, it was a slow, deliberate, punishingly deep thrust that made Tay cry out, a beautiful, wrecked sound that echoed in the quiet office. Tay's hands flew up, scrabbling to find purchase on New's broad, bare shoulders, his nails digging into the muscle.
"You're so tight, Te," New groaned roughly against Tay's mouth, the overwhelming physical sensation nearly snapping his ironclad control. "For such a chaotic, uncontrollable variable... you fit me perfectly."
"Shut up... about the math," Tay sobbed out, wrapping his long legs tightly around New's waist, his heels digging in to pull New impossibly deeper. "Just... love me. Take me, Hin. Please. Don't stop."
The desperate, shattered plea snapped the very last thread of New's restraint.
He stopped calculating. He stopped analyzing the environment. He let the years of quiet pining—the years of watching Tay from a distance, of fixing his mistakes, of protecting him from the world, of wanting to strangle him and kiss him in equal measure—take complete control.
New moved with a relentless rhythm that was punishing, demanding, and entirely worshipful all at once. He ground down with his hips, finding that exact, perfect sweet spot inside Tay that made the CEO completely lose his mind.
"Hin! Hin!" Tay chanted his name over and over like a desperate prayer, his head thrashing against the desk. His fingers dug deeply into New's back, leaving pale crescent moon marks on the skin. "Right there. Yes. Don't stop. Oh god, New."
New watched him. He braced his arms on either side of Tay's head and simply watched the man beneath him. He watched the way Tay's handsome face contorted in absolute ecstasy. He watched the way Tay—the man who usually couldn't sit still for five consecutive minutes, who had to touch everything and talk to everyone—was completely, entirely surrendered to New's hold, unable to do anything but writhe and take what New gave him.
It fed something dark, ancient, and deeply possessive in New's chest.
"You're mine," New growled, his voice dropping to a guttural octave. He reached out, grabbing both of Tay's wrists in one massive hand and pinning them firmly to the desk above Tay's head, completely neutralizing him. "Say it, Tawan. Tell me whose you are."
"I'm yours," Tay cried out, his spine arching sharply off the hardwood as New hit that spot again. "I'm yours. Only yours. I swear."
"I don't want to just be your friend anymore, Tay," New panted, driving into him harder, faster, his body slick with sweat. "I want to be the one who chooses your ugly ties. I want to be the one who drives your car because you're too clumsy. I want to be the only one who wakes up next to you."
Tay sobbed beautifully, nodding frantically, his whole body trembling, vibrating with the impending, crushing wave of release.
"I want to own all your shares," New whispered directly into Tay's ear, a dark, filthy promise. "Controlling interest. Fifty-one per cent. No... one hundred per cent. A complete monopoly."
"Take them!" Tay screamed, his voice breaking, tears of pleasure finally spilling over his lashes. "Take it all! Take everything!"
New let go of Tay's wrists and wrapped both of his strong arms securely around Tay's back, hauling him up off the desk, holding him close, skin to burning skin, heart pounding against heart. He drove into him one last, ruinous time, finding his own explosive release at the exact moment Tay completely unraveled in his arms.
The sound Tay made was utterly wrecked—a high, keen, desperate whine of pure sensory overload. He collapsed heavily against New's chest, burying his face deep into the crook of New's neck, his body trembling violently with the aftershocks.
New held him tight. He held him as the frantic trembling slowly subsided. He pressed a long, lingering kiss to Tay's sweat-dampened hair, breathing in the intoxicating scent of cedarwood, sex, and the sheer relief of finally having him.
"I've got you," New whispered softly, his hand gently stroking up and down Tay's bare back, grounding him. "I've got you, Te. You're safe."
Twenty Minutes Later.
The corner office was incredibly quiet, save for the soft hum of the central air conditioner and the muffled, distant sound of phones ringing in the outer bullpen.
Tay Tawan was still lying flat on his back on the executive desk. He had managed to pull his trousers back on, though his white shirt was still hanging open. He looked entirely boneless, completely stripped of his corporate stress. His eyes were half-closed, and a sleepy, deeply satisfied, incredibly smug smile was plastered permanently across his face.
New was standing beside the desk, calmly buttoning his own trousers with practiced, methodical efficiency. He picked up his silver wire-rimmed glasses from the floor (miraculously uncrushed) and slid them onto the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with one finger.
He looked around the office. It was a certified disaster zone. Important papers were scattered everywhere like confetti. The heavy stapler was under a guest chair. A carefully curated presentation mood board had fallen off its easel and cracked on the floor.
"We entirely destroyed the physical copy of the GMM contract," New noted dryly, bending down to pick up a heavily crumpled, sweat-stained piece of thick paper. "Khun Tha will be highly displeased if his multi-million baht signature is wrinkled."
Tay let out a lazy, throaty laugh, turning his head to stare happily at the ceiling. "I don't care. Tell Jack to print a new one. I'll sign it again. I'll sign literally anything right now. Bring me a marriage certificate, Hin. I'll sign it in blood right now."
New froze mid-button. He looked sharply at Tay.
"Do not make statistical jokes, Te."
"I'm not joking," Tay turned his head, his amber eyes suddenly soft, clear, and incredibly serious. "I told you. No exit clause. I meant it."
New felt a profound, radiant warmth spread through his chest, settling deep and permanent in his bones. He walked back to the desk. He reached into the top drawer, pulled out a wet wipe from the pack Tay kept for his inevitable coffee spills, and gently, meticulously wiped a faint smudge of printer ink from Tay's cheekbone.
"Get up," New said softly, his affection bleeding through his gruff tone. "You cannot successfully lead a creative agency while lying on a desk with your shirt unbuttoned like a romance novel cover model."
"I can," Tay argued stubbornly, reaching out to grab New's wrist. He pulled New closer, pressing a lingering, reverent kiss to New's palm. "I'm the Boss. I make the rules. I can declare this... mandatory corporate nap time."
New rolled his eyes, but he made absolutely no effort to pull his hand away. "You are ridiculous."
"And you," Tay grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "are terrifying. And bossy. But absolutely amazing."
Tay sat up slowly, wincing slightly and rubbing his lower back. "Ow. Solid teak wood is really hard on the spine."
"Next time, we will utilize a mattress. It is far more ergonomically sound," New said simply, picking up Tay's shirt from the floor.
Tay's eyes widened comically. "Next time? Is that a verbal promise, Khun New?"
"It is a highly probable projection based on current behavioral data," New said, his expression completely deadpan.
Tay barked a laugh, hopping off the desk and immediately tripping over his own discarded shoe. New's arm shot out instinctively, his strong grip wrapping around Tay's waist, steadying him before he could fall.
"Careful, Te," New murmured, holding him close.
Tay steadied himself, resting his hands on New's chest, looking up at New with that overwhelming, pure "Golden Retriever" adoration.
"Hin," Tay said softly. "Thank you."
"For what? The incredibly satisfying sex?"
"No. Well, yes. Obviously, yes, that was... world-altering," Tay flushed a deep red. "But for coming here. For running all the way over here. For not letting me push you away when I gave up."
New looked down, adjusting his own cuffs to hide his embarrassment. "I ran the numbers, Te. I told you. You are a high-risk, highly volatile asset. But I couldn't diversify my portfolio. I am putting all my capital into this."
"You really speak in finance metaphors even immediately after... that?" Tay teased, shaking his head in disbelief.
"It is how I process emotional chaos," New admitted, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his mask. He looked up, meeting Tay's eyes. "And Te?"
"Yeah?"
"About what I said earlier. About why I care."
Tay waited, holding his breath.
"I care," New corrected himself, his voice dropping into a softer, warmer register, "that you are the only person on earth who can make me not eat floor-croissants."
Tay blinked twice. Then he threw his head back and burst into loud, bright laughter.
"That's it?" Tay wheezed, struggling to button his pants through his laughter. "That's your grand, romantic declaration of love? That I physically stop you from eating garbage off the bakery floor?"
"It is highly significant!" New insisted, his ears turning bright pink. "I have a weakness for premium sweets. I absolutely would have eaten it. You saved me from bacterial infection. You look out for me, Te. Even when you are a complete, walking disaster, you always look out for me."
Tay stopped laughing. The chaotic energy faded, leaving only a deep, profound love. He stepped closer, cupping New's flushed face in his large hands. He kissed New softly—a sweet, tender, lingering contrast to the bruising heat of earlier.
"I will always look out for you, Hin. I promise to keep you safe from floor food, terrible investments, and loneliness."
"And I," New whispered against Tay's soft lips, wrapping his arms around Tay's waist, "promise to relentlessly manage your life so you don't accidentally burn it down."
"Are you ready to face the tribunal?" New asked.
They were standing by the heavy glass door. They had done their absolute best to look presentable. Shirts were tucked in. Belts were buckled. Hair was hastily finger-combed. New had put his suit jacket back on, mostly to hide the severe wrinkles he had crushed into his dress shirt.
"Do I look like I just got thoroughly ravished on my own executive desk?" Tay asked, anxiously checking his reflection in the tinted glass.
"Yes," New said, painfully honest. "Your lips are visibly swollen. Your pupils are dilated. And you have a very obvious, purple hickey forming on the left side of your neck."
"I do?!" Tay gasped, his hand flying up to cover his neck in horror. "Hin! You marked me like a feral cat!"
"It is a brand," New shrugged nonchalantly, checking his own watch. "Market dominance. Button your collar all the way up."
Tay quickly buttoned the top button, choking himself slightly in the process. "Okay. Okay. Let's go. Act natural. Act extremely professional."
"I am always professional," New said, straightening his spine into his perfect, intimidating CFO posture.
Tay took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.
They stepped out into the open-plan office.
Silence fell immediately. It was the kind of absolute, heavy silence that usually preceded a bomb drop.
Twenty heads turned in unison. Forty eyes stared directly at them. The clicking of keyboards ceased completely.
Jack was standing frozen by the communal printer, holding a massive stack of warm papers. He looked at Tay. He looked at New. He looked at the flushed, glowing skin, the hopelessly messy hair, and the distinct, overwhelming aura of absolute satisfaction radiating off his boss like a space heater.
"Meeting adjourned, Boss?" Jack squeaked, his voice cracking.
Tay cleared his throat. It came out as a happy, nervous little chirp. "Yes! Excellent meeting! A very... productive, hands-on strategy session. We really... drilled down deep into the core competencies of the brand."
New closed his eyes behind his glasses, praying for patience. Drilled down deep. Good lord.
"Right," Jack nodded slowly, his eyes darting between them. "And the... the loud banging against the desk? And the screaming? Was that part of the strategy?"
Tay froze like a deer in headlights. "The walls are heavily soundproofed."
"The walls are thick glass, Boss," Jack pointed out, gesturing to the corner office. "And the central air vents... are absolutely not soundproof."
New felt his soul momentarily leave his physical body. He calculated the fastest route to the fire exit.
Tay, however, did not panic. The embarrassment vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride. He looked around at his staring staff. He looked at New standing beside him—solid, beautiful, imposing, and undeniably his.
A slow, brilliant, unrepentant grin spread across Tay's face. He reached out and grabbed New's hand. Right there in the middle of the office, in front of everyone.
"It was a very passionate debate," Tay announced loudly, lacing his fingers securely through New's. "And Khun New won the argument. He is now... officially managing the primary account."
"Which account is that, sir?" Jack asked, fighting a smile.
"Me," Tay said proudly, puffing his chest out. "The Tay Tawan account."
A collective, echoing "Awwwww" swept through the entire office. May, the receptionist, actually clapped her hands together.
"Finally!" a copywriter shouted from the back corner desk. "I won the betting pool! Pay up, Jira!"
"Wait, there was a betting pool about my love life?" Tay asked, looking genuinely offended.
"Since day one, Boss," Jack sighed, shaking his head before walking over to formally shake New's free hand. "Congratulations, Khun New. He is entirely your problem now. No returns. No refunds under any circumstances."
New looked at Jack. He looked at the grinning, cheering staff. He looked at Tay, who was beaming at him as if New had personally hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for him.
New squeezed Tay's hand tightly.
"I don't need a refund, Jack," New said, a small, secret, incredibly soft smile finally breaking across his face. "I've already calculated the long-term yield. The asset is well worth the risk."
"Does that mean we can go to lunch now?" Tay asked hopefully, tugging on New's arm like an oversized puppy. "I'm starving. Intensive strategy makes me very hungry."
"Lunch," New agreed, turning to lead them out. "But nothing spicy. Your stomach lining is still recovering. And we are walking. You need to burn off that excess adrenaline before you break something expensive in my bakery."
"Yes, Sir," Tay saluted cheerfully with his free hand.
They walked toward the elevator bank, hand in hand, ignoring the giggles of the staff behind them.
"By the way," Tay whispered conspiratorially as the metal elevator doors closed, shielding them from the world. "You are definitely driving tonight."
"Why?" New asked, pressing the button for the lobby.
"Because," Tay leaned in, biting his lip, his eyes dark with the memory of the desk. "My legs are still a little shaky."
New smirked. A dark, possessive thrill shot through him.
"Don't worry, Te," New said, pulling Tay in by the waist for one last, bruising kiss before the doors opened. "I'll drive. I will always drive."