[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 134: Let the honeymoon start

Chapter 134: Chapter 134: Let the honeymoon start

The door had barely clicked shut behind Dax and the grandmother when Trevor slumped forward like a marionette whose strings had finally been cut.

"I feel like I was just interrogated by two different versions of the same ancient war deity," he muttered, one arm bracing against the nearest sofa, the other dragging across his face.

Lucas, still by the window, watched him with a slow blink and the faintest upward curve at the corner of his mouth. "That’s generous. I’d say one war deity and one event planner with imperial clearance."

Trevor groaned. "I knew I should’ve let you talk more. You’ve got the better mouth for diplomacy."

"I also have the better mouth for shutting you up," Lucas replied, walking over with the calm grace of someone who’d just survived court-level trauma and intended to make it everyone else’s problem.

Trevor grinned, tilted his head back to meet him, and reached out—no hesitation, no clever retort this time.

"Come here."

Lucas didn’t pretend to resist. He let himself be pulled down, one knee settling on the couch, then the other, until Trevor’s arms wrapped around him like relief made real. A quiet sound left Trevor’s throat, something low and wordless, as if his body had been holding tension somewhere deep in his ribs and only now remembered how to let go.

"You smell like safety," Trevor mumbled, dragging his nose along Lucas’s collarbone.

Lucas exhaled slowly, letting his weight settle fully in Trevor’s lap. "You smell like disaster and stress sweat. Congratulations on surviving your family."

"I deserve a medal," Trevor said into his shoulder. "Or a nap. Or—"

"A cuddle," Lucas finished for him, amused.

Trevor hummed. "Preferably a long one. With minimal judgment."

"You’re asking the wrong person for that."

"Then minimal clothes?" he tried, voice hopeful.

Lucas didn’t even blink. "Bold, for someone who just got emotionally vaporized by his grandmother and politically disarmed by a king."

Trevor let his head fall back dramatically against the cushions. "I’m clinging to what little power I have left."

"You’re clinging to me," Lucas corrected, not moving from where he was comfortably curled in Trevor’s lap. "And honestly, it’s not a terrible strategy."

"I’m very good at it."

"You’re heavy."

"I’m emotionally vulnerable."

Lucas snorted, which might’ve ruined the moment if Trevor didn’t look so smugly pleased with himself.

There was a pause. Lucas let one hand drift under Trevor’s shirt, fingertips warm against skin that still hummed faintly with residual tension.

Trevor’s voice dropped. "So... minimal clothes is still on the table?"

Lucas lifted his head just enough to meet his eyes. "Only if you shut up for the rest of the night."

Trevor grinned, eyes softening as he leaned in. "Deal."

And when Lucas kissed him, slow and sure, with the quiet promise of home behind it. Lucas’s lips were soft but insistent, pressing against Trevor’s with a tenderness that quickly gave way to something more urgent. Trevor’s hands slid up Lucas’s back, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, their tongues meeting in a slow, deliberate dance that sent sparks of heat coursing through Trevor’s veins.

Lucas’s scent—warm and earthy, with a hint of something sweet—filled Trevor’s senses, making his head spin. He could feel the tension in his body melting away, replaced by a growing need that pulsed low in his gut. His hands moved to Lucas’s waist, tugging at the hem of his shirt until it was pulled over his head and discarded on the floor.

Lucas barely paused for breath. His hands found Trevor’s shoulders, then his jaw, fingers threading into his hair with practiced ease—like he already knew every part of him and wanted to relearn it all from memory. Trevor’s breath caught as their chests met, bare skin against bare skin, heat sparking along every nerve.

"Slow," Lucas murmured against his mouth, even as his nails dragged faintly down Trevor’s back. "We’re not rushing."

Trevor nodded, but it came out more like a whimper. "Not rushing. Definitely not—God—rushing."

Lucas huffed a quiet laugh and bit down gently on Trevor’s lower lip, just enough to pull a sound from him that was somewhere between a groan and surrender.

The couch dipped beneath them as Trevor leaned back, guiding Lucas to follow, letting him settle over him like a second skin, warm and alive and far too smug about it.

Trevor’s hands found Lucas’s hips, pulling him down, pressing them together. The friction sent a jolt through both of them, and Trevor bit his lip to keep from swearing too loudly. "You’re going to kill me."

Lucas kissed along his jaw. "You’ll die happy."

"I’ll die wrecked."

"That’s the plan."

Their laughter tangled between kisses, breathless and messy, until Lucas finally leaned back just enough to look at him properly. His cheeks were flushed, hair tousled, and chest rising and falling with unspoken promises.

Lucas looked down at him, a little breathless, his hair a mess and that usual sharpness in his expression softened at the edges. There was something quiet in his eyes. Not hesitant. Just real.

Trevor reached up, knuckles brushing against his jaw, then his cheek. His hand paused there like he wasn’t sure what to say next, or if he even needed to.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice lower now. "We don’t have to. Not just because today was a mess."

Lucas blinked. "You think I’m offering you a pity fuck after that? After last night?"

Trevor snorted, his hand still at Lucas’s hip. "It’s a valid fear. You’ve seen me at my worst. I drooled in my sleep."

Lucas rolled his eyes but didn’t move. "I’m sure. I want to. I want you. But if you’re still recovering after the bond and the knot..."

He trailed off, not quite teasing now. His fingers brushed over Trevor’s ribs, featherlight—like he meant to check without asking, to make sure Trevor wasn’t still sore beneath the bravado.

Trevor reached up and caught his wrist gently. "Hey. I’m fine."

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"I’m mostly fine," Trevor corrected, mouth twitching into a sheepish smile. "A little sore, maybe. Emotionally humiliated by the way I whimpered? Absolutely. But physically? I’m good."

Lucas smirked. "You did whimper. Twice."

"It was a strategic sound of appreciation," Trevor muttered.

Lucas laughed then—quiet and warm and honest—and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "Well, in case you need a reminder: you didn’t break. And I didn’t run."

Trevor’s hand slid into Lucas’s hair, fingers curling there. "Yeah. I noticed. You stayed."

"Of course I stayed," Lucas said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You’re mine."

Trevor inhaled slowly, like that word had landed somewhere deep in his chest.

"Still," Lucas added, settling his weight more evenly over him, "I’ll go easy on you." f r\eeNovelFire.c(o)(m)

Trevor blinked up at him. "Easy?"

Lucas tilted his head, all fake innocence and bare skin. "Well, as easy as I feel like being."

Trevor let out a soft, helpless groan and dragged him down into another kiss.