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    Summary

    When he glances back at Phatsa, the omega is staring at him, his face flushed. His pheromones flood the air around them, and Nakhun can’t tell if it’s consciously or not. Phatsa sets the pillow aside and fidgets with his hands.
    Then he abruptly leans over and leans on Nakhun’s shoulder, inhaling his scent.
    “So, you don’t want to hold me?” He asks, rubbing his cheek on the curve of his chest.
    Nakhun freezes. Shit, he must have been louder than he’d thought. It takes him a moment to react to Phatsa’s wandering hand slipping under his shirt.
    “Phatsa, don’t mess with my feelings,” Nakhun takes a sharp breath as Phatsa’s fingers stroke over his ribs. “because if you say yes to this, I’ll take you seriously.”

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