Chapter 92: Birthday Gift

Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Birthday Gift

Sebastian had begun to suspect that Nero possessed a remarkable talent for avoiding conversations he did not want to finish.

Not by refusing to answer.

That would have been too obvious.

Instead, Nero had spent the last several days performing increasingly elaborate mental gymnastics whenever Sebastian attempted to return to the subject of his complete lack of sexual experience, somehow transforming questions about his personal history into discussions about enigma physiology, rut suppression, royal security, Luke Vesper’s questionable influence, or, on one particularly impressive occasion, coastal infrastructure.

Sebastian found it fascinating.

He also found it deeply entertaining.

Unfortunately, his own body had now provided him with something considerably more distracting.

He stood in the bathroom adjoining their bedroom, one hand braced against the marble counter while he stared down at himself with an expression usually reserved for particularly offensive medical reports.

The room was warm from his shower, condensation clouding the lower half of the mirror while the scent of soap lingered beneath the quiet hum of the ventilation system. He had already dried his hair and pulled on loose sleep trousers, but his shirt remained abandoned beside the sink.

That was not the problem.

The problem was lower.

Sebastian stared.

Then stared harder, as though biological processes might become embarrassed under sufficient scrutiny and correct themselves.

They did not.

His developing omega anatomy had apparently decided that timing was optional.

A small amount of slick had appeared without anything Sebastian would have classified as proper arousal, leaving him caught somewhere between disbelief and reluctant scientific curiosity.

"Well."

His body offered no explanation.

Over the previous months, Claude and Roberta had warned him that new reproductive functions might activate unpredictably while the transition progressed, particularly as the omega glands matured and his nervous system learned how to interpret signals it had never possessed before.

Sebastian had listened.

He had understood.

Understanding the theory was considerably different from standing half-dressed in a bathroom and discovering that his new anatomy had apparently begun improvising.

He reached for a towel, cleaned himself carefully, then remained standing there for another moment while he considered the responsible response.

Report it.

Obviously.

Roberta would probably want to document the timing, hormone levels, whether there had been an identifiable trigger, and how long the response lasted.

Claude would ask similarly reasonable medical questions.

Then Nero would find out.

Sebastian paused.

Nero would absolutely find out.

Not because either physician would violate confidentiality, but because Sebastian had spent six months living with a man who could detect the slightest change in his pheromonal output from another room and had recently become even more attentive after the near-berserk episode.

If Sebastian reported that his body had begun producing slick spontaneously, Nero would eventually notice something was different.

And then—

Sebastian looked at his reflection.

His own expression changed.

Oh.

For several seconds, he simply stood there.

Then his mouth curved.

The idea arrived fully formed and considerably more satisfying than anything he had considered for Nero’s birthday so far.

Nero had asked for a day.

Sebastian had agreed.

He had spent the last week wondering what exactly to do with it, because buying something for the Crown Prince of Saha remained almost impossible unless Sebastian intended to purchase an obscure historical document, commission something personal, or deliberately choose an object Nero could not simply acquire himself.

But Nero had already told him what mattered.

He had waited.

Seven years.

He had manipulated circumstances, hovered at the edges of Sebastian’s life, exploited every opportunity to remain visible, and somehow still honored the one promise that had kept him from crossing the final line.

Sebastian had been the one who approached.

The one who chose him, the one who finally said yes even if the situation was odd.

And now Nero’s birthday was approaching.

Sebastian’s grin widened.

There were very few things left in the world that Nero could not obtain through money, influence, or sheer persistence.

This was one of them.

Something Sebastian had to choose to give.

He leaned one hip against the counter, folding the towel before placing it beside the sink as the implications settled more comfortably into place.

His libido had only recently begun returning in fragments, inconsistent and sometimes almost nonexistent, but his body was clearly moving toward something new.

Apparently faster than he had realized.

Would Roberta approve?

Probably not without tests.

Would Claude approve?

Almost certainly not without another stack of data.

Would Nero behave sensibly if Sebastian mentioned the possibility now?

Absolutely not.

That alone decided it.

Sebastian would keep the discovery to himself for the moment.

Not indefinitely.

He was not stupid enough to hide anything genuinely dangerous after what happened during the berserk episode, and if the changes came with pain, fever, instability, or any other concerning symptom, he would report them immediately.

But this?

This appeared perfectly ordinary.

Embarrassingly ordinary.

And potentially useful.

He pushed away from the counter and reached for his shirt.

From the bedroom beyond the closed door, he could faintly hear Nero moving around, probably preparing whatever documents he intended to read in bed despite repeatedly accusing Sebastian of doing exactly the same thing.

Sebastian pulled the shirt over his head.

The fabric settled against his skin.

His smile returned.

Nero had spent days dodging Sebastian’s questions about being a virgin with increasingly creative evasions.

Soon enough, he would have nowhere left to dodge.

Sebastian opened the bathroom door.

Nero was sitting against the headboard with a tablet in one hand, white-blond hair loose over his shoulders and reading glasses perched low enough on his nose to make the entire sight unfairly attractive.

He looked up immediately.

Sebastian stopped.

Yes.

That would do nicely.

Nero’s eyebrows lifted at whatever expression Sebastian was wearing.

"What?"

Sebastian climbed into bed.

"Nothing."

He settled beside him and took the tablet from Nero’s hand before placing it on the nightstand.

Nero watched him with growing suspicion.

Sebastian leaned over, kissed his cheek, and pulled the blanket over them both.

Then he smiled into Nero’s shoulder.

He finally knew what to give him for his birthday.