CHAPTER 87: CHANGED RELATIONSHIP

Chapter 86

Nolan

"Well, I guess time’s up." Jack says with a grin that makes me want to hit him and kiss him at the same time.

He peels himself away from Ciel, and Ciel just... plops onto the bed like a marionette with its strings cut. He exhales, chest rising and falling hard, strands of scarlet hair sticking to his temple.

Jack blinks blearily, finds his pants somewhere on the floor, and tugs them on with the slow, loose movements of someone whose bones might have just melted. A T-shirt gets thrown lazily over his shoulder as he pads out of the bedroom, bare feet soft against the floor.

Meanwhile, I’m still on the bed. Processing. Or trying to.

Processing the sight of Jack fucking himself against Ciel’s thighs. Processing Ciel coming apart like that. Processing the fact that I’m still hard as hell with no end in sight and the clock ticking.

Yeah. I should probably take care of that. Soon.

***

Jack

Ivan’s already downstairs when I make it to the living room. He’s holding Lanny, and the way his eyes sweep over me tells me he knows.

"Seems like I interrupted," he says, strolling toward me with Lanny balanced on his hip like a practiced dad.

"Definitely," I reply, and take my son from him. Lanny gurgles and reaches for my neck. My heart always melts when my son does this little movement.

Ivan arches a brow. "In my defense, I did ask you if two hours was enough. It’s certainly not enough for me, and I just have one lover."

I can’t help but chuckle. Yeah, it definitely wasn’t enough. Not even close.

"So," I say, bouncing Lanny lightly, "did you find us a nanny?"

"Yeah. She’ll be arriving soon. She’s my nanny’s cousin." He adjusts his jacket, the movement all precise and elegant like he isn’t the most dramatic man alive.

"Well, ’nanny’ is understating what Margaret does," Ivan continues, narrowing his eyes at me. "She cooks, cleans, keeps my household from collapsing. If you expect her cousin to do even half of that, you better be ready to spend a pretty penny. I won’t have you lowballing her."

"Don’t worry," I say easily. "We just need her for Lanny. If we need her for anything else, we’ll compensate her properly."

"Good." He nods, satisfied. "Anyway, my husband’s waiting for me in the car. I have to go."

Of course he tosses his hair and spins on his heel like he’s leaving a runway. Only Ivan could turn leaving the house into an event.

The house grows quieter when the door clicks shut behind him. Lanny wiggles in my arms, and I kiss the top of his soft hair.

A few minutes later, footsteps creak on the stairs.

Ciel appears — clean, still flushed, wearing one of my oversized shirts like he didn’t nearly pass out upstairs. He crosses the room, wordless, and takes Lanny from me, pressing a kiss to our son’s forehead.

***

Ciel

Lanny’s breathing evens out, soft and warm against my chest. He smells faintly of baby soap and sunlight, and the weight of him in my arms is grounding. I shift a little on the couch and glance sideways at Jack.

He’s sitting next to me, elbow braced against the armrest, gaze fixed out through the glass wall toward the ocean. The waves are rolling in slow and lazy, like they’ve got all the time in the world.

"Think we should get a TV?" he asks suddenly, still not looking at me.

I blink. "I don’t know. Maybe."

He nods, like he’s already picturing where it would go, then leans his head back against the couch. "Where’s your soulmate?"

"Taking a shower," I answer, adjusting Lanny’s little blanket.

Jack’s lips twitch into a smirk. "He sure is taking care of something."

"Jack!" I whisper-shout, because the man has no shame. He laughs lightly — that quiet kind of laugh that warms the air around him.

Then, softer, "So, how are you?"

I know what he really means. Not a casual how are you. But how are you after everything upstairs?

"I don’t know," I say honestly. And it’s true. I really don’t.

Because this time with Nolan wasn’t under the pretense of teaching him something, or coaxing him past awkwardness. This was just us. Wanting. Reaching. Crossing a line.

"Don’t think too much," Jack murmurs, shuffling closer until his arm slips around my shoulders. The warmth of him bleeds into me. Familiar. Safe.

"I’ll try not to," I say quietly. "It’s just... we’ve been friends for so long, Jack. And now everything’s different. I don’t know how to process that."

"Sunshine, don’t." His fingers rub slow circles into my shoulder, like he’s trying to calm a storm before it starts.

I exhale and lean back against the couch, against him. Outside, the sea keeps moving like nothing’s changed. But inside me, everything has.

The way Nolan looked at me. The way he touched me. It definitely wasn’t in best friend territory at all.

Our relationship has changed, I don’t know how to face that.

***

Nolan

I’m standing at the top of the stairs, clutching the railing like it might hold me together. Going down means facing it. Facing them.

Facing him.

It was hot. God, it was so hot. But now there’s this gnawing fear sitting under my ribs.

What if they regret it?

What if they decide it was a mistake?

What if after tasting heaven I’m expected to go back to pretending I don’t want this with everything in me?

My thoughts spiral fast and sharp.

What if Ciel was just going along with Jack? What if he didn’t want me — not like that. I mean we’ve been together all these years surely if he did want me like that something could have happened?

Unlike me, sex isn’t complicated for him. It’s just something alphas want from him, something he’s expected to give.But for me? It’s not just sex. It’s everything. It’s why I’m still a virgin at this age.

And the worst thought hits me like a fist in the chest.

What if I took something from him without realizing it?

What if I wasn’t the safe place I’ve always wanted to be for him?

What if he was coerced into it? Am I no different from those men, and unlike them I can’t blame my alpha designation just my greed and lust.

My throat feels tight. I’m spiraling, and I fucking know it. But knowing doesn’t make it stop.

I need to do something. Anything.

So I head back to the room, strip the bed. Toss the used sheets in a pile. Replace them with fresh ones, tugging each corner too hard, but at least it keeps my hands busy. Keeps my brain from eating itself alive.

I gather the soiled sheets in my arms and head to the laundry room, the weight of fabric heavy against my chest.

I don’t have to face anything.

Atleast not yet.