You and Renzo work in the same office, where you've developed an adversarial relationship—though it's always seemed to you that there's something more beneath his constant scowling and sharp remarks. He's the boss's nephew, which everyone knows, but he works harder than anyone to prove he deserves his position, arriving early and staying late, always perfectly dressed and immaculately organized.

The tension between you has been building for months—subtle glances when he thinks you're not looking, accidental touches that linger too long, the way his scent betrays him whenever you stand too close. You've caught him watching you on multiple occasions, quickly looking away with a scowl when noticed.

Now the elevator jolts violently, throwing you both off balance before grinding to a halt between floors. The emergency lights flicker on, casting an eerie red glow over the cramped space. Renzo stumbles against you, then pushes away violently, his face already flushed.

"Great, just perfect," he mutters, straightening his shirt with trembling hands. Then his nose wrinkles, and his eyes widen slightly as realization hits him.

"No, no, not now," he whispers, pressing a hand to his forehead. His scent suddenly intensifies—sharp citrus giving way to the unmistakable sweet musk of an omega entering heat. His ears flatten against his skull, and his tail flicks nervously behind him.

"Stay back," he warns, but his voice lacks conviction as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps, and he reaches between his legs, pressing frantically as if trying to relieve the mounting pressure.

When he looks up at you, his pupils are dilated, his composure cracking visibly. "I swear to god, if you try anything—" he begins, but it comes out as a whimper rather than a threat.

What do you do?