Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes Chapter 72: Greed

Chapter 71

Ciel

It’s just a lesson.

It’s nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

I chant it in my head like a prayer, but the mantra doesn’t stick. Nolan... he’s never looked so vulnerable, so unbearably beautiful. His lips part slightly with every shiver, chest rising and falling too fast, and I feel my pulse hamring in response.

I want him to whimper, to cry, to beg. And the truth? I want to make him beg.

What the fuck? What an insane emotion and desire.

Best friend. Best friend. Just a lesson.

I repeat it again, trying to convince myself, but each flinch, each little gasp from him twists sothing hot and sharp in my chest.

I drag my thumb across the tip, teasing, deliberate. He shudders violently, hips twitching instinctively, and the sight makes sothing dark and possessive flare in .

So hot.

A pang of jealousy flashes—sharp, sudden—at Jack. Jack, my alpha, my lover. And yet... why? This whole ordeal is my idea, I don’t understand myself.

I use the precum as lubricant, slicking him carefully, teasing, precise. My palm moves slowly, deliberately. I watch his reaction like it’s a science experint—and god, it’s intoxicating.

The way he bites his lip, fingers clutching the sheets, chest rising and falling too fast—it should feel clinical, educational even, but it doesn’t. Not for .

"See, Nollie, like this." I murmur, voice low, controlled, though inside, I’m anything but. I pretend it’s a lesson, pretend I’m detached, but the way he arches toward , vulnerable and needy, twists inside.

My grip tightens slightly, just enough to make him shudder against , and I swallow a groan.

He whines softly, hips pushing up instinctively, desperate for more friction, more pressure. My eyes drink him in—every flush of his skin, every tremor, every little gasp. I want to trace each line of his body with my hands, lips, tongue. But I’m the teacher, I remind myself. It’s just a lesson.

And yet...

I want to lean forward and kiss him. The thought hits hard—dangerous, dizzying. That would cross a line, wouldn’t it? A kiss isn’t just skin against skin; it’s surrender. It’s admission.

I hover there for a heartbeat too long, torn between sense and hunger. My pulse drums against my throat, and every breath feels heavier.

He’s breathing fast, chest rising in frantic waves. I can see the tremor in his arms, the tension in his jaw. He’s close—so close—and I’m not ready for it to end. Not yet.

So I slow down.

His reaction is instant, a broken sound escaping him, half plea, half frustration. His body jerks instinctively, seeking what I’m denying.

The noise he makes goes straight through .

I shouldn’t enjoy this. I shouldn’t crave it—the way he looks at , half-lost, half-furious, completely undone. But I do.

I drag it on and on, until the "lesson" isn’t a lesson anymore. It’s my greed—my curiosity, my weakness, whatever you want to call it.

I know I shouldn’t.

"Ciel... please. I’m begging," Nolan says, voice cracking on the last word.

That sound undoes . Every line I drew in my head blurs into nothing.

Then it’s over.

For a second, the room is filled with the kind of silence that hums—heavy, alive, impossible to explain. Nolan’s breathing hard, his skin flushed, eyes wide like he’s just realized the world tilted on its axis.

He freezes, then jolts upright. "I— I’m so sorry!" he blurts, already fumbling for his shirt.

Before I can say anything, he’s gone—bolting for the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

I sit there for a long mont, dazed, pulse still hamring in my ears. And then, sohow, I laugh. Quiet, breathless, disbelieving.

Was he always this cute?

Because suddenly, I get it.

I understand why Jack teases him until he’s red-faced and sputtering. Why every word, every reaction, feels like an invitation.

Nolan isn’t just adorable when he’s flustered.

He’s irresistible.

Also, I’m so turned on I can’t think straight. My skin feels too tight, every nerve alive and screaming.

The sound of the shower behind doesn’t help—it’s torture, a reminder of everything I can’t have, everything I just did.

I stumble out of the room as if being chased.

Jack’s door is open. He’s sitting on the bed, damp hair pushed back, scrolling through sothing on his tablet. He looks up just as I reach him.

"Sunshine—?" he starts, but I’m already moving.

I cross the space between us and climb onto him, straddling his lap before reason can intervene. His hands co up automatically, steadying , and I crash my mouth against his jaw, breathless, desperate.

"Ciel," he says, a warning that sounds more like a plea.

"I—" My voice breaks. "I really, really need you right now."

That’s all it takes.

His eyes darken, that familiar heat sparking instantly to life. He flips onto my back, smooth and fast, the mattress dipping under his weight. His breath ghosts over my lips, his voice rough when he finally answers.

"Okay," he says, low and sure. "Then let ."

The next kiss isn’t gentle. It’s everything I’ve been holding back—the ache, the jealousy, the hunger that’s been chewing alive since Nolan. Jack ets it, matches it, deepens it until the only thing left in my world is him.

***

Nolan

I step out of the shower slowly, steam still clinging to my skin. The towel around my waist feels heavier than it should.

I’m so embarrassed I could die.

What just happened?

What did we even do?

And yet... my hands are trembling. My body’s still humming. I already know I’ll never be satisfied with just touching myself ever again. Not after that. Not after him.

I let out a long, shaky sigh.

The room’s empty. No sign of Ciel.

Maybe he’s with Lanny.

I head down the hall, peeking into his room. The crib’s soft light glows in the corner. Lanny’s asleep, tiny fists curled near his face. My chest tightens at how small he looks, how he already has Ciel’s hair, Ciel’s sleeping face.

For a mont, everything feels quiet, safe.

I turn to leave—then I hear it.

A sound down the hall. Soft at first, then louder. A low moan. A muffled cry.

I freeze.

Jack’s room.

That’s where he is.

Heat shoots through like a live wire. I shouldn’t. God, I shouldn’t. But my feet carry anyway until my palm rests against the doorfra.

Jack’s grunts are rough and deep, Ciel’s cries desperate and high. Each sound punches straight through my stomach.

Oh.

So that’s where he is.

Envy curls hot in my chest. Darker than it should be.

I press my hand flat to the wood, forehead almost touching. If I opened the door right now... would they even stop ? Would they let join them?

I close my eyes, but the noises don’t stop. They only get louder.

Standing here any longer is torture.