[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega Chapter 66: Kiss First

Lucas, distracted with watching Trevor’s mouth, blinked. "Wait, already—?"

Trevor moved before the sentence was done; he lowered his head and lifted Lucas’s chin with his hand, making his thoughts on kissing him obvious. His fingers were warm, deliberate, pressing lightly at the edge of Lucas’s jaw. He brushed his lips slowly to Lucas’s, giving him a chance to retreat if he was uncomfortable.

Lucas didn’t move away.

He leaned into the kiss instead, surprising Trevor. His purple eyes widened just a touch before they slid shut, the breath between them catching like silk in wind.

Lucas grabbed the lapel of Trevor’s coat, steadying himself.

Trevor deepened the kiss, just slightly. Enough to taste him.

And there it was—faint, but unmistakable. A trace of pheromones, not strong enough to push, but undeniable.

Lucas didn’t hide it. Didn’t flinch. He tilted his head further, steady in the way he matched the pressure, in the way his hand curled just a little tighter in Trevor’s coat.

Trevor inhaled against his mouth, slow and unsteady. It was more than taste—it was sothing his, suddenly too close and too real, and not the way he expected to feel it for the first ti.

Not like this. Not now. But he wasn’t pulling away either.

Lucas exhaled when they finally broke apart.

His lips were still slightly parted, and his gaze had narrowed, but curious, like he was still deciding how much of that had been real and how much had been for show.

Trevor leaned his forehead lightly against his.

"You’re dangerous," he murmured.

Lucas tilted his chin a little higher, like he hadn’t just kissed him in front of five bishops. "You filed the paperwork before I said yes."

"You said get married," Trevor replied, low. "That sounded like yes."

"Legally binding," Lucas muttered. "Emotionally questionable."

"Accurate."

Behind them, one of the bishops cleared his throat like he was considering retirent. Another was already writing in the margins of his script, possibly revising his life choices.

The ceremony was technically complete.

The kiss had been more than enough.

Then the doors opened.

Sirius walked in like he hadn’t missed a beat, wine bottle in hand and amusent written all over his face. "Tell I’m not too late for the part where soone faints and another swears eternal loyalty."

Lucas didn’t look at him. "You’re seven minutes late and five bishops behind."

"Excellent," Sirius said, sweeping into the hall as if it were a stage and the war had been won in his absence. "I hate the boring parts."

Lucius followed at a more asured pace, carrying a tablet and the distinct air of soone prepared to annul a royal marriage on a technicality. "Is this legal?"

Trevor turned his head slightly, still holding Lucas’s hand. "Yes."

Lucius didn’t blink. "Prove it."

"Filed at 21:47," Trevor said, already sliding his phone out of his pocket with infuriating calm. "Digital confirmation, registrar’s seal, dual signature, and pre-cleared by the Imperial Marriage Bureau under clause seven of the Accelerated Civil Union Act. Would you like the PDF?"

Lucius extended his hand. "Obviously."

Trevor dropped the file into his inbox with one tap.

Sirius handed the wine bottle to a stunned palace aide and leaned back, watching the exchange with the delighted horror of soone at a family disaster they weren’t responsible for. "Should I give a toast or wait for the post-mortem?"

Lucas raised an eyebrow, half amused, half exasperated. "Are you here to drag away to Saha or congratulate us?"

Sirius tilted his head, that maddeningly elegant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Why not both?"

Trevor didn’t look at him. "Try either. See what happens."

Lucius sighed audibly. "I will remind the court, again, that threatening imperial heirs is still a prosecutable offense."

Trevor didn’t blink. "Only if I fail."

Lucas didn’t bother hiding the way his mouth twitched. "Sirius?"

The crown prince raised his hands. "Relax. I ca for the wine. The marriage is a bonus."

"You’re holding our wine," Serathine said, dryly, while plucking the bottle out of the Crown Prince’s hand with the kind of grace that implied ownership over not just the bottle—but the floor beneath his feet.

Sirius let it go without a fight, his eyes drifting—deliberately, slowly—to the shimring folds of Serathine’s gown.

"That’s a very... impressive dress."

"It was ant for a declaration of war," she replied, inspecting the label with polite disinterest. "But then Lucas got married instead."

"Tragic," Sirius said. "You could’ve worn it to the engagent party."

"There was no engagent party," Lucius cut in, tone clipped as he tapped furiously at his datapad. "There was barely even an engagent. And the certificate is dated before the kiss."

Trevor didn’t look up. "Efficiency."

Lucas folded his arms. "Trevor thinks foreplay includes civil registration."

Serathine poured herself a glass. "And yet it worked."

Sirius glanced between them, eyes gleaming with royal mischief. "So this is permanent?"

Lucas gave him a flat look. "There’s a five-bishop body count and three separate legal witnesses, Sirius. You think I’m faking a political marriage?"

"Not faking," Sirius said, unbothered. "Just fast-forwarding."

Trevor’s voice was soft and precise. "Would you like to be next?"

Sirius blinked. "To be married?"

"To be filed," Trevor clarified, reaching for Lucas’s hand. "Legally. rcilessly. With full press coverage and background checks."

Sirius took a small step back. "I’ll pass."

Lucius finished reviewing the data and lowered his tablet with a sigh of quiet defeat. "It’s airtight. Which sohow makes this worse."

Serathine clinked her glass against Lucas’s. "You’re married. You’re legally insane. And now everyone has to live with it."

Lucas tilted the glass in return. "Feels on brand."

Sirius leaned against a pillar, smirking. "So when’s the honeymoon?"

Trevor glanced at Lucas, eyes warm but unreadable. "It already started. We can depart for the Fitzgeralt domain in the North. Quiet. Isolated. And if those two dare to step in there without my permission, they’ll be delivered in pieces."

"Heartless much?" Lucius replied, lifting his glass with lazy precision. "Now that you’ve got your spouse, you don’t pretend anymore? I’m wounded."

Trevor didn’t even blink. "Were you under the impression I ever pretended?"

"I was under the impression you had manners," Lucius said dryly. "But perhaps those expired with the engagent you never bothered to hold."

"Engagents are for people who want to be talked out of it," Trevor said. "I don’t."

Lucas glanced between them and sighed. "Can you two not? One of you will end up weaponizing the dinnerware."

"I don’t need dinnerware," Lucius said. "I have legal precedent."

"And I," Trevor said smoothly, "have a legal husband."