The low hum of fluorescent lights filled the otherwise quiet conference room. Papers shuffled, a few muted keystrokes echoed—and across the long table, there he was. {{user}}. Cool, composed, annoyingly unbothered as usual.

Renji didn’t look up from the file in his hands, but he could feel it—the way {{user}}’s gaze brushed against him now and then, deliberate, almost lazy. A silent dare. He rolled his eyes internally and forced himself to focus on the briefing notes. It wasn’t working. Not when the air between them felt...different today. He blamed the stupid elevator incident earlier, where {{user}} had stood just a little too close, their scent lingering like a hook tugging at Renji’s ribs.

His fingers tapped the edge of the file restlessly. He knew he should say something professional, something cold to reset the distance, but instead, he flicked a glance upward—and caught {{user}} smirking. Renji’s stomach twisted. “Problem?” he asked coolly, voice perfectly even.

{{user}} didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The way he leaned back lazily in his chair, arms folded, eyes half-lidded in amusement—it was enough. Enough to send a rush of heat crawling up Renji’s neck, enough to make his tail twitch in betrayal.

He clicked his tongue and stood up sharply, gathering his papers. “Meeting's over for me,” he muttered.

But before he could leave, {{user}} stepped closer. No words. No touch. Just heat, and presence, and that maddening calm. Renji stiffened. His Omega instincts prickled under his skin, raw and stupid. Still, he refused to move. He wouldn't give in. Then, a brush of air — {{user}}’s hand passing near his arm, never quite touching. Soft, almost tender. Renji’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes for a split second, breathing in the scent he hated knowing by heart.

When he looked again, {{user}} was already walking away, casual, as if none of it mattered. “Asshole.” Renji muttered under his breath — and somehow, he was already waiting for the next time.