Chapter 51: Screwed and suggestion.
Chapter 50
Ciel
Jack holds me, we don’t move. Firstly—I needed that release.
His hands softly pat my back. Gentle, steady. Almost absentminded. Like he’s reminding me with every tap that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.
I think this was the first... time since well, ever... that I initiated something and actually wanted it. Not out of expectation. Not out of obligation. Not because someone wanted to take, and I was too tired to fight it. But because I wanted it.
And suddenly it makes sense, what Jack said that day in the car—about the difference between wanting to and feeling like I had to.
Jack’s tiny taps on my back are everything right now. Comforting. Anchoring.
Something I’ve never told a soul: I hated being an omega. I hated how often my body betrayed me. How easily it was stolen from me—my will, my choices. How a single whiff of an alpha’s pheromones could make my pulse race, my skin burn, even when I didn’t want it. Especially when I didn’t want it.
It felt like a curse. A sentence. Like my body wasn’t mine, not really.
But it’s not like that with Jack.
His pheromones... they don’t steal from me. They don’t corner me. They don’t trick my body into obeying them.
They comfort. They wrap around me like a blanket when I’m raw and trembling, easing me down instead of winding me up. Now that the high is fading, I can feel it—his pheromones have shifted. They’re not sharp with want anymore, they’re soft, warm, steady. Like the scent of lavender on a summer night.
It shouldn’t even be possible. I looked it up once—pheromones don’t work like that. They’re supposed to be consistent. Desire doesn’t turn into comfort. Arousal doesn’t melt into safety.
And yet, with him... it does.
Maybe it’s because of how safe he makes me feel. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t just want me, he cares about me.
But what does that say about all the others? About every alpha before him? Their pheromones turned me on, triggered my heat, dragged reactions out of me that felt like betrayal.
Jack’s don’t.
Jack’s make me feel... like myself.
You would have to pry Jack out of my cold dead hands before I ever let him go.
***
Jack
"Ciel?" I whisper when his breathing evens out, steady and calm.
No response.
I tilt my head, and sure enough—he’s out cold. Just like that.
I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
Careful not to wake him, I shift and stand with him in my arms. He’s light—too light, if I’m being honest—and the thought makes something tight coil in my chest. Still, he feels right there, against me, head tucked against my shoulder.
I lay him gently on the bed, watching his lashes flutter, but he doesn’t stir. Out like a light.
I glance down at us both, grimacing at the mess. His shorts and my briefs are damp, uncomfortable, sticking where I really don’t want them to. I huff a laugh under my breath, shaking my head at the absurdity of it, then carefully tug the fabric away and set it aside.
I find clean ones, soft cotton, and ease him into them as gently as I can. His head lolls, his lips part, and he makes this tiny noise in his throat that’s so unguarded, so Ciel, it damn near cracks me in two.
I can’t help it—I chuckle, low and warm—because Lanny makes the exact same face when he’s dead asleep. Same little scrunched nose. Same pouty lips. Father and son, through and through.
Sliding into bed beside him, I barely have time to adjust the blanket before he instinctively shifts, pressing into my chest, clinging like he’s always belonged here.
And just like that, my heart isn’t mine anymore. It’s his. Entirely.
I stroke a thumb across the slope of his shoulder, memorizing the warmth, the weight of him, the way he fits against me.
That—what happened tonight? That was... amazing. No, more than amazing. I’ve had encounters before. I’ve done everything before. But this?
There’s no comparison.
We didn’t even go all the way, and I swear it was the best sexual experience of my life.
I’m screwed.
Seriously, deeply, irreversibly in love with him. There’s no saving me now.
Not that there was saving me earlier anyway.
***
Nolan
I lie sprawled across the bed, exhaustion pulling me under in slow, heavy waves. My eyes sting, my limbs ache, but it’s the good kind of tired—the kind that comes after keeping watch all night with Lanny.
When I peeked into Jack’s room last night, they looked so peaceful together I couldn’t bring myself to wake either of them.
Now, with the baby babbling on the bedroom floor, I feel myself drifting off. The sound of his little coos blends with the ocean waves outside, an odd lullaby I never imagined I’d grow accustomed to.
"So I was thinking."
My eyes snap open.
Thinking. From Ciel. Never good. Especially these days.
I shift upright, squinting at him where he sits cross-legged on the floor, golden eyes sharp even while his hands automatically shake Lanny’s toy rattle.
"I just realized," he says, tone far too casual, "you don’t really have any sexual experience at all. So—"
I sit up straighter, offended. "Excuse me? I have done things before."
He blinks once, then smirks. "You mean that time I was in heat and didn’t even last thirty minutes?"
Right. I remember that day.
The day I resigned myself to the truth: I would never be the one for Ciel. It didn’t matter what I did — I wasn’t an alpha. I might as well have been a human-sized dildo. Hell, worse, because at least some dildos could knot.
I don’t think anyone can fathom the amount of pain it took me, walking up to an alpha and asking for help. That was the day I broke something inside myself and pretended I could keep going like normal.
"I’ve had other experiences," I say dryly, dragging myself back to the present.
"Right," Ciel says in an obviously disbelieving tone, his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a laugh at my expense.
"So I have a suggestion."
My stomach drops.
"What suggestion?"