[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 159: Personal icepack

Chapter 159: Chapter 159: Personal icepack

Trevor chuckled under his breath, leaning a little closer. "Then go ahead. Arrest me."

Lucas made a noise that could only be described as a half-hearted growl. "Don’t tempt me. I’m half an inch from throwing myself into the icebox and the other half from climbing into your lap."

"You’re allowed to do both," Trevor said mildly. "Though I recommend one before the other."

Lucas shot him a look, but it lacked real venom. He was flushed, a little glassy-eyed, and clearly trying to preserve the last sliver of his composure with what dignity remained. "I hate this. I hate feeling like I’m crawling out of my own skin."

"I know." Trevor murmured, steady and grounding. "Come on. Let’s move somewhere cooler. Windstone had our room set up like a freezer."

Lucas gave a soft, approving hum, too warm and dizzy to argue, but still sounding vaguely judgmental. "Remind me to give him a medal. Or an estate."

Trevor slipped an arm around his waist, taking care not to crowd him, and led him out of the dining room with the same quiet confidence he used in war rooms. Every movement was timed, and each step was taken at Lucas’s pace rather than his own.

The night he’d spent reading Lucas’s memories, or at least what Lucas had allowed him to see, had left a permanent mark. Not just in his thoughts, but deep within his chest, like a quiet scar carved from understanding.

Lucas didn’t fear his cycle. He didn’t even fear the bond.

What he dreaded was the heat, the blistering kind that soaked into stone and refused to let go, the kind that turned polished marble into a mirror of every trapped summer he had endured. Heat baked silence into walls, made skin stick and thoughts blur, and transformed a body into something vulnerable, always waiting.

And Trevor would never let that heat touch him again.

They were in the north now. Safe beneath gray skies and cool winds, where the mornings tasted of mist and pine, not dry air and old blood. Even the palace here was designed for winter, with thick walls, shaded courtyards, and windows that filtered light into a quiet gray rather than a harsh gold.

Windstone went above and beyond; Trevor had only requested cooler sheets and shaded lighting. Instead, the man had drawn the blackout curtains, brought in a portable chiller, changed the bedding to fine linen chilled on marble slabs, and fluffed every pillow as if it were a matter of national security.

Lucas stepped into the room with a breath that sounded like relief cracking open.

He didn’t speak, didn’t complain. He simply moved toward the bed like gravity had shifted and only the mattress made sense anymore. Trevor followed, silent but ever-present, watching the lines of tension in Lucas’ shoulders ease slightly, but enough.

Lucas threw himself on the bed and sighed, as he could breathe again. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well," Trevor started and followed Lucas in bed, "I can cuddle you until you fall asleep and then read reports."

Lucas groaned into the pillow, the sound muffled and deeply unimpressed. "That is the worst answer I’ve ever heard."

Trevor chuckled, settling beside him with practiced ease, one arm draping lightly over Lucas’s waist. "I thought it was practical."

"You’re supposed to say something romantic," Lucas muttered, voice still muffled. "Like, run away with me or I’ll fight the sun for you; don’t let me multitask."

Trevor leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Lucas’ ear. "Fine," he murmured, low and indulgent. "Let me hold you as if the world would end if I didn’t. Let me make time irrelevant while you breathe against my chest. Let me fight the sun and bureaucracy both, but let me read my damn reports once you fall asleep."

Lucas let out a huff of laughter despite himself. "Better."

"I aim to please," Trevor said, shifting just enough to tug the blanket over them both. His hand moved slowly along Lucas’s spine, firm and steady, grounding.

"I still feel like I’m going to melt," Lucas said, curling closer with a faint wince. "But it’s better now."

Trevor kissed the top of his head, careful and warm. "That’s all I need to hear."

Lucas went quiet again, eyes half-lidded and breath already starting to slow. The cold sheets, the dim room, and the slow, rhythmic drag of Trevor’s fingers along his back were slowly drowning the feverish edge to his body.

Trevor’s hand slid up Lucas’s spine, the coolness of his touch a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Lucas’s skin. The omega let out a soft, nearly imperceptible whimper, his body arching slightly into contact. Trevor’s lips brushed against the nape of Lucas’s neck, near the mark, his breath warm but not overwhelming, a deliberate counterpoint to the feverish state Lucas was in.

Lucas shivered from the delicate ache of want that lurked beneath his exhaustion. His skin felt too hot and too tight, but wherever Trevor touched, the heat dissipated. Became bearable.

"You’re making it worse," Lucas said, his voice thick with drowsy frustration, but he didn’t back away. If anything, he tilted his head slightly, revealing more of his neck without realizing it.

Trevor didn’t move his mouth; he only breathed there, lips barely grazing the curve of skin just beside the mark. "Or maybe I’m making it better."

Lucas made a quiet sound at that, one that hovered between a scoff and a sigh. "You’re a menace."

"I’ve been called worse," Trevor said, his voice low, fingers dragging once more down Lucas’s spine with careful pressure. "But you’re not pushing me away."

"Why would I push you away? You are cold and smell like snow for some reason."

Trevor huffed a soft laugh, the sound low and warm against Lucas’s skin. "Snow, huh?"

"It’s comforting," Lucas muttered, already half-asleep again. "Like... winter wrapped in wool. Or revenge served chilled."

Trevor grinned, his hand still moving slowly across Lucas’s back, easing the tightness from muscles stretched too thin by hormones and memory. "That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me."

"Don’t get used to it," Lucas warned, though the threat was dulled by the way he nuzzled closer, his body curling into Trevor’s without hesitation. "It’s just the heat talking. If I weren’t melting, I’d be insulting you properly."

Trevor pressed another kiss to his shoulder, barely more than a brush. "Then I’ll treasure the moment. Along with being your personal icepack."

Lucas didn’t respond immediately, too relaxed to argue, but his hand slid up until it rested over Trevor’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

"I picked you," he murmured into the hollow of Trevor’s throat, voice sleep-soft but firm. "Not because I had to. Because I wanted to." NovelFire

Trevor’s breath hitched.

And then he whispered back, quiet enough not to wake him if he drifted off, "I’ll never stop choosing you."