[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 167: Time to adjust

Chapter 167: Chapter 167: Time to adjust

Trevor didn’t flinch. "Birth control."

Lucas blinked. "You planned for this?"

Trevor held the glass steady in one hand and offered the pills with the other. "I plan for everything."

There was no arrogance in his voice, just quiet truth. He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t lording it over him. But Lucas could still feel it, the certainty behind the statement, the steadiness that wrapped around Trevor like armor. He’d thought of everything. Lucas hesitated.

Trevor didn’t push. He simply waited, calm and steady, the water glass still held out, the pills in his palm like an unspoken promise. His voice, when it came, was softer than Lucas expected.

"Your mind is twenty-five," Trevor said slowly, carefully. "But your body is still eighteen. Legally and biologically, nothing can stop you from having a child, but..." He paused, his gaze steady. "Let’s not rush. We have all the time." View the correct content at NovelFire.

Lucas’s jaw clenched, tears threatening to spill, again Trevor proving to Lucas that being considerate and lovely wasn’t that hard and that people had used him in his past life without giving anything in return.

He took the pills and water; he wasn’t ready for a child, not this early; for now he just wanted to spend time with his mate.

Lucas’s jaw clenched, a sharp, silent reaction that did nothing to stop the burn at the corners of his eyes. Not again, he thought bitterly, not now, but it didn’t matter. The ache was already there, pushing up against his ribs like a bruise that had never healed properly.

Because Trevor had done it again.

No force. No manipulation. Just quiet care, offered like it was obvious, like being decent didn’t cost a thing. And it shouldn’t have. But it had. God, it had.

In his last life, people only reached for him when they needed something. A bond. A child. A name to ruin or keep. They never gave anything back.

Trevor didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, the pills in one hand, the water in the other, waiting like Lucas had all the time in the world to decide.

Lucas took them.

Swallowed the pills and passed back the glass, his fingers brushing Trevor’s. Warm skin, solid weight.

"I’m not ready," he said. The words weren’t dramatic or broken, just quiet. Honest. A soft truth pressed between them. "Not for that. Not yet."

Lucas took the pills.

The only sound was the soft click of them slipping past his tongue, followed by the cool rush of water chasing them down. He swallowed hard, not because it hurt, but because some part of him still struggled with the simplicity of it. Of being given time. Of not being expected to sacrifice everything just to be wanted.

The glass trembled slightly in his hand as he passed it back to Trevor. Not enough to spill. Just enough to betray the weight behind the moment.

Trevor didn’t comment. He took the glass with his usual quiet ease, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft thud. Then his hand found Lucas’s cheek again, thumb brushing over the faint curve of his jaw. Just once. Just enough.

Lucas leaned into it with a soft exhale.

A knock came at the door. Polite. Rhythmic. Predictable, in the way of someone who’d already waited too long.

"Your Graces," the butler’s voice filtered through the heavy oak with grave efficiency, "breakfast is served."

Lucas sighed. "We are breakfast."

Trevor smiled, more amused than awake. "If he starts threatening to call the physician again, I’m barricading the door."

"No, you’re not," Lucas muttered, already pushing himself upright, grimacing as every muscle reminded him of the last forty-eight hours. "Because you’ll fold the second he says I’m underweight."

Trevor had the audacity to look unbothered as he stood, stretching just enough to make the line of his back and shoulders crack faintly. He picked up a loose shirt from the nearby chair, pulled it over his head, then turned to watch Lucas struggle with his robe like a man watching his favorite painting put itself together.

"I should warn him," Trevor said lazily. "That you’re mean when underfed."

"I’m always mean," Lucas muttered, tugging the tie at his waist into something vaguely functional.

The door creaked open a sliver, just enough for Windstone to remain firmly out of sight while making his point. "That robe is unfit for a kitchen, let alone the dining room."

Lucas paused, blinking at the edge of the door. "Then bring me breakfast here."

There was a measured silence. Then, a very slow exhale from the hallway. "There is a proper table. There are chairs. There is a perfectly poached egg and a fresh croissant that will not be reheated."

Lucas glanced sideways at Trevor. "He really knows how to tempt a man."

Trevor nodded. "He’s terrifying."

With a groan, Lucas moved toward the door, each step weighted with reluctant grace. "Fine," he called. "We’re coming. But if there’s anything green on my plate, I’m sending you to Dax for an experience exchange."

Behind him, Trevor gave a low chuckle, deep and amused. "That’s a bit harsh. Even for you."

Lucas didn’t glance back as he pulled open the door, the edge of his robe catching on the frame like it, too, wanted to stay in bed. "Harsh would be making me eat kale while I’m still emotionally recovering from being ruined."

Windstone stood in the hallway, as dignified as ever in a waistcoat that hadn’t wrinkled in three years and with the patience of someone who had clearly expected worse.

"There is no kale, Your Grace," he said mildly. "I’ve learned my lesson. The greenest item is chive garnish. You’ll survive."

Lucas squinted. "That’s still green."

"It’s decorative. Like a ribbon on a knife. Entirely optional. And meant to soften the blow."

Trevor appeared behind Lucas, shirtless and far too pleased with himself for someone who’d only just managed to roll out of bed. "You’ve gotten sassier," he noted, eyeing Windstone with faint admiration.

"I’ve merely adapted, sir," Windstone replied. "Evolution, in this household, is not a luxury. It’s survival."

Lucas leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. "You just want me vertical."

Windstone didn’t even blink. "Correct. Vertical, fed, and—ideally—hydrated. The bar is low, Your Grace, and you’re limboing under it."

Trevor smiled, warm and lazy. "I like him."

"You hired him," Lucas muttered.

"And I’ve never made a better decision."

Windstone arched a brow, clearly entertained. "That’s worrying, sir."

Lucas sighed, resigned. "Fine. Lead the way to my humiliation."

"It’s toast," Windstone said, already turning. "Not a tribunal." NovelFire

Lucas trudged after him with Trevor at his side, fingers brushing briefly at his back—a silent, steady touch, like always.

"I reserve the right," Lucas mumbled, "to dramatically faint if there’s porridge."

Windstone didn’t even slow. "As long as you fall forward. The carpet’s antique."