[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 201: A fleeting kiss

Chapter 201: Chapter 201: A fleeting kiss

The last attendant stepped away with a murmured bow, leaving the room in a hush broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as Lucas adjusted the fall of his coat‑cape.

He caught sight of himself again in the mirror, caught the gleam of gold embroidery, the rich shadow of violet‑black pooling like twilight at his shoulder, and let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.

"This is absurd," he murmured to no one in particular. "I look like I’m about to stage a coup, not a wedding."

The door opened without ceremony, a familiar presence spilling into the room like a shadow that fit too easily against his own.

Trevor.

He filled the doorway with the kind of quiet authority that needed no announcement. His own attire matched the grandeur, deep black and regal violet, the ceremonial sash crossing his chest, the silver of his house pin glinting like a blade at his collar. His dark hair was brushed back, but there was a looseness at the edges, a reminder that he had dressed quickly, that the world outside was already moving fast.

For a beat, he didn’t speak.

He just looked.

Lucas turned slowly from the mirror, the coat flaring faintly as he moved, and met Trevor’s gaze. There was no mistaking the way those storm‑dark eyes sharpened, catching every detail, every thread of gold filigree, and every subtle shift of plum and merlot in the tailored fabric.

Trevor stepped forward, measured and quiet, like approaching something rare. His hand lifted, brushing against the embroidery at Lucas’s shoulder, fingertips light but lingering.

"Evrin outdid himself," Trevor said softly, though his voice carried something else beneath the words, something heavier. "No..." his lips curved faintly, eyes still on Lucas, "...you outdo yourself just by standing there."

Lucas arched a brow, trying to hide the way his pulse ticked up at that low tone. "Flattery won’t make me walk faster to the terrace."

Trevor’s mouth tilted into the faintest grin as he adjusted the fall of Lucas’s sleeve, careful not to disturb the intricate detailing. "Not flattery," he murmured, leaning closer just enough for his words to be for Lucas alone. "Just truth. They’re all out there waiting to see you... and I can’t blame them."

Lucas huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, a flicker of color rising in his cheeks. "Gods, Trevor. Don’t start now."

Trevor’s hand didn’t leave his arm. Instead, it slid upward, slowly, until his palm cupped Lucas’s jaw. His thumb brushed lightly along the line of his cheekbone, and for a heartbeat the bustle beyond the door vanished. The storm‑dark of Trevor’s eyes softened, warm and unguarded in a way he rarely allowed anyone to see.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over Lucas’s in a kiss so careful it felt like a secret.

It would have stayed that way, gentle and fleeting, if not for the sharp tug in Trevor’s chest, the way desire and pride and something deeper burned through the calm he wore like armor.

The kiss deepened, slow at first, then hungry, as though Trevor wanted to anchor himself in this moment before the world claimed them again. Lucas’s hand found his shoulder instinctively, steadying himself against the sudden weight of the kiss, the press of Trevor’s body close enough to make the gold embroidery at his collar catch faintly between them.

When Trevor finally broke away, their foreheads brushed, their breaths mingling in the stillness. His voice was low, roughened by restraint. "You’re... impossible to leave untouched," he murmured, his thumb tracing the edge of Lucas’s jaw.

Trevor lingered there, his thumb still stroking along Lucas’s jawline as though memorizing the shape of him. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, not his usual sharp grin but something quieter, more private.

Lucas exhaled, steadying himself with one hand still resting against Trevor’s shoulder. His pulse was too quick for a man about to greet the Imperial family, and the realization made his lips curve despite himself. "And you," he murmured, his voice lower now, softened by the moment, "are terrible at remembering there’s an entire court waiting outside."

Trevor’s laugh was low, that dark, rich sound that always seemed to settle in Lucas’s chest like a secret. "Let them wait." He eased back just enough to look at Lucas fully again, his storm‑dark eyes taking in every detail as if trying to burn the image into memory. "They’ll survive five more minutes."

Lucas shook his head, though the color lingered high on his cheeks, a smile ghosting across his lips. "Five minutes is all it would take for Serathine to storm up here and drag us both down by the ear."

Trevor’s grin deepened, wicked and fond all at once. "She’d try. But I’d wager she wouldn’t make it past Windstone."

The sound of distant bells tolled again, muffled through the thick walls of the manor, a reminder that time was slipping fast. Somewhere down the corridor, Lucas could hear the muted shuffle of attendants waiting and the hushed murmur of staff already stationed at the grand staircase.

Reluctantly, Trevor let his hand fall from Lucas’s jaw, fingers trailing briefly along the embroidery at his shoulder before dropping to his side. He stepped back just far enough to offer his arm, his expression smoothing into that calm, commanding composure that made him every inch the Duke he was.

Lucas looked at the arm, then at Trevor’s face, reading the warmth still tucked carefully behind that composed exterior. With a soft sigh, equal parts amusement and resignation, he slipped his hand into place, letting Trevor guide him toward the door.

"Ready?" Trevor asked quietly as they stepped into the waiting light of the corridor.

"No," Lucas answered, lips quirking with a flash of dry humor. "But let’s go before I change my mind."

Trevor’s answering laugh rumbled softly, his grip firm and steady as they began their walk down the hall, side by side, toward the world waiting below.