Chapter 60: Embarrassing
Chapter 59
Jack
Today, Ciel is sleeping with Nolan.
Not like that but the mental image does something sharp and strange in my chest.
Leaning back against the tub, I close my eyes, and relax.
The problem with relaxing, though, is that it leaves space for thoughts I’ve been trying to bury. Thoughts that crawl up the back of my neck and burn hot in my chest until I can’t breathe.
Unfortunately, they’re not clean.
I curse under my breath, shoving a wet hand through my hair.
My gaze drops under the water, to the hardness pushing insistently against the surface.
"Fuck," I mutter.
Seriously, I’m not like this. Not normally.
I mean, yeah, alphas have high drives, that’s nothing new—but this? This is ridiculous.
My body’s been running like a machine on overdrive. Recovery time after release? Practically instant. Ten minutes used to feel fast in my previous life my old lovers could attest to that, now it’s barely two before I’m hard again. My own biology is turning on me, making me restless, needy.
And the libido—goddamn it, the libido. It’s like an itch under my skin, one that doesn’t go away no matter how many times I try to handle it. I’m always ready, always buzzing, always on edge.
And then there’s Ciel. Beautiful, beautiful, infuriatingly sexy Ciel. The way he laughs, the way his omega scent lingers in the air, sweet and cold like fresh fruit and snow. He’s temptation wrapped in softness, and I can’t stop wanting him.
But the problem doesn’t end there. No, because unfortunately for me... there’s Nolan too.
Nolan with his sharp eyes, his clipped words, his stubborn pride that makes me want to corner him just to see what face he’d make if I pushed too far. He’s not delicate or soft—he’s all fight, all bristling walls. But somehow that makes him just as tempting.
Seriously. Busy tempting me. Both of them. Every damn day.
I sink lower in the water, dragging a hand over my face.
What the hell am I supposed to do with this?
Step one though—get rid of the current hard on.
I let my hand slide lower, beneath the surface of the water. The heat of the bath disguises it at first, but the contrast of my own touch makes me suck in a sharp breath.
How embarrassing.
Sneaking relief in a bathtub like a teenager who just discovered what his hand can do. If Nolan or Ciel ever walked in right now... fuck, I’d never live it down.
But I can’t stop. My body’s demanding it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to picture anything. Just focus on sensation, get it over with, quick, quiet.
Except, of course, my mind betrays me instantly.
My imagination is very active. I don’t even need to try, and suddenly—Ciel is there. His lips parted, pink and soft, a breath caught between a moan and a sigh. His eyes fluttering, that small tremor in his lashes when he’s close to coming undone. I can practically hear him gasping my name.
I groan, my hand tightening around myself under the water.
Then Nolan. Fucking Nolan. Would he fight me? Snarl and glare even as I forced his head back, kissed him until he forgot how to breathe? Or would he break, beg for more, his voice low and ragged, the way it was when he lost control with Ciel that night?
The thought makes me twitch, makes my pulse slam harder.
"Fuck—" I hiss, biting down on my lip.
It’s wrong. It’s messy. Ciel is mine. But Nolan... Nolan’s in the picture whether I like it or not. And my body clearly doesn’t care about boundaries.
Heat curls low in my stomach as my hand moves faster. I squeeze my eyes shut, water splashing faintly against porcelain. Their faces blur together—Ciel’s sweetness, Nolan’s fury—and I’m caught between them, gasping as the fantasy overtakes me.
"Dammit—" I groan, head tipping back against the cool edge of the tub as the heat coils tighter, sharper.
Ciel’s face flashes in my mind, lips parting, whispering my name like it belongs only to him. The fantasy drags me under—his thighs pressed to my hips, his nails leaving marks down my back, his voice breaking as I drive into him again and again.
My hand jerks faster beneath the water, the slippery heat of it making my chest seize, breath catching hard.
But then Nolan crashes through, uninvited, unavoidable. The thought of him scowling, fighting me every inch of the way, his voice hoarse from growling out curses—until he breaks. Until he’s panting, begging, glaring at me even as he shudders and gives in. The image is so wrong, and yet it makes me pulse in my palm, makes my jaw clench.
I choke on a sound, half-groan, half-snarl, water sloshing around me as my hips buck up against my fist.
It hits me hard. Release tears through me, hot and violent, spilling into the water as my muscles lock tight. My free hand claws at the edge of the tub, grip white-knuckled. My head spins, my chest heaves, and all I can do is ride it out until I’m slumping back, gasping like I’ve run miles.
Silence crashes in after, broken only by the faint ripple of water and the hammer of my pulse in my ears.
I look down at myself, at the water, at the evidence of what I’ve just done, and drag both hands over my face.
Pathetic.
*
I wrap the towel around my waist and step out of the bathroom, steam clinging to my skin. I couldn’t stay in the tub any longer, not with the mess I just made of myself.
And then I freeze.
Because sitting on the edge of my bed, flipping through one of my photo books like he owns the damn place—Nolan.
Another object of my fantasy.
My throat goes dry.
He doesn’t look up right away, just keeps flipping, his fingers careful with the corners of the page. His hair’s damp at the ends, like he just showered, and the tank top he’s wearing clings a little too much to his shoulders.
When his eyes finally lift to meet mine, his brows shoot up. "Why are you... half-naked?"