Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes Chapter 48: Attacks on both sides

Chapter 47

Jack

Sothing happened between the best friends.

I don’t know what, but the air’s weird. Tense. Like a storm is trying to break but no one’s willing to say it out loud.

Lanny babbles from his little blanket nest on the floor, kicking his feet, saving from the awkward silence.

"Oh hey, my dear," I murmur, scooping him up into my arms. His tiny fists clutch at my shirt, and he lets out a happy squeal like I’ve just told the best joke in the world.

I lift him higher, resting him against my shoulder.

"That’s better. You and , huh? The only sane ones in this house."

From the corner of my eye, I catch Ciel watching . His expression softens, lips parting like he wants to say sothing, then presses shut again. Nolan, on the other hand, looks away quickly, jaw tight.

Weird. Definitely weird.

I rock Lanny gently, humming low in my chest. He burrows closer, drool dampening my collar. I don’t even care. The sll of baby shampoo and warm milk is oddly grounding.

Whatever is going on, I’m sure it’s nothing.

*

I’m losing my mind.

Seriously.

I am a human being. I am an accumulation of a vast array of experiences, mories, emotions, survival instincts.

I am not just a walking, talking libido.

That I am not.

I don’t mind that Ciel isn’t ready yet. I could wait forever if he needed. Waiting is fine. Patience is fine. I’d never force it. Never.

Everything’s good. Everything’s perfect.

Except one thing.

Ciel’s fucking dog.

The audacity. The shaless, bold audacity of a beta who’s supposed to be a best friend.

At first I thought I was imagining it. Little things brushing past too close, holding my gaze too long. I told myself I was paranoid. Seeing things that weren’t there. I an, co on—I’m in love with Ciel. He’s in love with Ciel. There’s no way.

Right?

Wrong.

Because today, while I’m in the kitchen making Lanny’s bottle, Nolan strolls past . And not just past —no, he lines himself up like a goddamn train on a track, rubs his ass against my front like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and keeps walking.

Casual. Innocent. Like he didn’t just ignite every nerve ending in my body.

My eye twitches. My hand tightens on the bottle until I nearly snap the damn thing in half.

This. Fucking. Dog.

*

Whoa.

I get it.

There’s a reason Ciel Rosengarde is the main protagonist.

There’s a reason why , Nolan, hell probably half the kingdom falls in love with him.

He’s perfect.

No one is supposed to be perfect, but Ciel... Ciel is.

He’s trying, these days, to "get rid of the baby fat." Pilates. Stretching. Breathing exercises. He says it casually, as if it’s not working miracles right in front of .

But it is.

It’s working.

Every line of him is sharpening again, that dangerous blend of soft and strong. The exact balance that destroys —femininity and masculinity braided together, effortless. I’ve always loved the twinks, they didn’t even have to be slender, just a pretty small man was everything to .

And Ciel is peak. Peak androgynous beauty.

I could write ballads about his cheekbones. Hymns about the line of his waist. Spend whole lifetis worshipping his eyes.

But I can’t.

Because right now there’s a pillow on my lap.

I didn’t an to. God, I didn’t.

But look at him. Look at him bend, stretch, twist into positions no mortal should manage. His scarlet hair sticking to his temples. His golden eyes focused. And then—then his back arches low. So low it’s obscene.

A strangled sound claws at my throat.

Fuck .

The thought slams into before I can kill it. I imagine myself behind him, fingers on his waist, my body slotting into his, the way he’d gasp, the way he’d moan—

I clamp my eyes shut. My fists grip the pillow so tight I might tear the fabric.

It’s like I’m being attacked from both sides in this house. Jack on one, Ciel on the other. And ? I’m the weak point. I’m the pathetic one, unraveling in silence.

I’m not built for this.

I’m not strong enough for this.

Please. Soone have rcy on . Because I’m genuinely tired of using my fucking hand.

*

I exhale.

The cold water streams down my back, dripping off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. My palms press flat to the slick tile, knuckles white, breath coming harsh and uneven.

I glance down. My cock strains, flushed and heavy, unrelenting even under the punishing chill of the shower.

Persistent.

Demanding.

A bloody fucking problem.

My body refuses to calm down, every nerve singing with want, every thought circling back to them.

I know what I have to do.

With a muttered curse, I shift one hand lower, fingers wrapping around myself. Heat floods through instantly, cruel in how easily my body responds.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forehead pressed against the wall, and let the images co.

First—it’s Ciel. Always Ciel.

His smile, bright enough to blind. The way his hair falls into his face when he stretches, those scarlet waves catching sunlight. The sound of his laugh when he teases . The way his lips parted under mine, soft, needy, that tiny moan still lodged in my skull like a brand.

My grip tightens, stroking faster. I picture him gasping beneath , golden eyes wide, hands gripping at my shoulders, whispering my na like a prayer. My hips jerk, breath hitching, and I groan, water cascading over as if to smother the sound.

But then—Nolan slips in.

Not because I want him to. But because he’s there, always there, glaring, scowling, pretending like I don’t get to him when I know I do. That look in his eyes when I pin him down, the way his breath stuttered when my hand slid under his shirt.

I curse under my breath, fist pumping harder, imagining the sheer heat of his glare turning into sothing else. His lips parting, his voice breaking when I push him past his stubbornness.

"Fuck," I growl, the sound tearing out of .

The rhythm becos frantic, water blurring everything except the pulse of want in my gut. My thighs tremble, muscles tight, and I can’t stop the images—Ciel’s golden eyes, Nolan’s piercing blue—both of them staring back at , burning holes straight through .

I co with a guttural groan, hips snapping forward, my forehead thudding against the tile. Release rips through , harsh and unrelenting, leaving gasping, chest heaving like I’ve been running for hours.

The water washes everything away, but not the sha.

Not the truth.

I slump against the wall, hand limp at my side, cock softening under the spray. A bitter laugh escapes , strangled.

Pathetic.

Ciel with his sunshine smile, soft and fragile and mine in ways I can barely believe.

Nolan with his sharp edges, defiant and magnetic, pulling in even as I tell myself I shouldn’t want him.

Two different flas burning from either side.