Chapter 217 Impulsive
The black-haired young man tried to retract his hand as if he was burned. Azuka could clearly feel the instinctive tension under his palm, an impulse to escape.
Unfortunately, this time, the savior wasn't as considerate and gentle as before, even slowly tightening the grip. Perhaps due to years of wearing gloves, the scholar's hands were far more sensitive than those of ordinary people. His fingerprints had been worn down to a point of being unclear, and the inside of his right knuckles still had a thin layer of calluses from years of holding a pen.
Those fingers that used to be steady and nimble were now cold and stiff at the fingertips, but he still gently but irresistibly gathered the back of her hand, forcing her to curl up, using the most delicate and soft palm physique to please another person, to please the greedy, terrifying, cunning and ferocious beast hidden deep in her nature, which was completely inconsistent with that pretty and harmless face.
"Don't be so gentle." The Savior sighed softly. He simply leaned over and hugged the person, leaving a series of light kisses on the blood-stained face.
"Don't worry about hurting me, you can...be harder."
The other party didn't answer. After a moment's silence, he suddenly tightened his fingers, as if in venting his anger. His palms were forced open, and his nails, habitually trimmed very short, were blunt. A thin, unhealthy red tinge shone between his fingers. These were hands well suited for holding a pen.
Azuka couldn't help but hug the person tighter, and all his heavy breathing went into the other person's ears: "That's it, you did a great job."
His fingers were clamped in an extremely narrow space, so that even the subtle touch was intermittent and irregular, which made people grit their teeth.
But spiritual pleasure far surpassed physical desire. He was gradually infecting his moon, he was devouring the bloody food that stood on the gods' dinner plates, he was stepping into the empty immortal temple, until the thousands of brilliant stained glass windows in the desolate wasteland finally reflected thousands of faces that belonged to him—he was tempting him, and he accepted the temptation.
Nova couldn't help but close his eyes. The breath and low gasps from the other person surrounded him, like a thick fog soaked with hot and humid air, penetrating every pore and clogging his body like a slow and gentle drowning.
He finally couldn't help but grit his teeth: "...Why isn't it over yet?"
It was so long that it seemed like a strange and absurd chronic murder, and the victim was his rationality.
The reaction prompted by this series of changes seemed even more intense than he had imagined. It was so strange: he was lucid, calm, and uncontrolled—yet he could only watch helplessly as his thoughts slipped away into a completely unknown place.
The guy was laughing so hard that a low throb was vibrating deep in his chest, making his ribs hum. "Should I be sorry for this, honey?"
"Too much time can lead to illness." The professor deadpanned as he gave a serious lecture: "Seek medical attention if necessary to avoid pain, inflammation, necrosis, neurasthenia—ugh!"
With his left hand restrained above his head, the tyrant struggled, trying to turn his face away, avoiding the layers of kisses that drowned him. He was unusually furious, a mixture of unconscious panic and irritation. "Can you please stop gagging me when you don't want to hear me?"
The guy didn't answer, but just buried his face in his shoulder. Then he suddenly sighed inexplicably: "...You will have a hard time in the future if you do this."
On all levels and in all senses.
"It's very hard." He couldn't help but emphasize it again.
“……?”
Nova was completely baffled, having no idea why the topic had jumped to the level of whether it was hard or not—and then someone licked and bit his protruding bone in the socket of his shoulder, neither lightly nor heavily.
It was both painful and itchy. He shrank his neck and frowned. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he pulled out his right hand, then bent his knees with incredible agility, trying to kick the other person away from his body by pressing against his chest and abdomen.
The professor began to feel vaguely uneasy. Since he had already tacitly agreed, he wouldn't give up halfway; it was the spirit of a fair contract—but he felt that at least he should be in control at this point.
Past experience had already taught him that as a fragile ordinary person, he shouldn't attempt a physical duel with the godlike male protagonist. The villain was simply taking advantage of the man's vulnerability—but the man still easily held down the painfully bony knee, even lowering his head to slowly kiss the hardest bone in the human body, with a touch of sentimentality.
The black-haired young man suddenly froze.
He was pinched by the waist and dragged slowly down a distance, his fingers scratching subconsciously, causing subtle wrinkles on the bed sheets.
"...Sometimes, Professor." The Savior sighed softly.
The unfamiliar heat from the side of his leg through the thin fabric, accompanied by rapid breathing, in the silent night, all those unprecedented noises were powerful, clear, and poured into his ears, fiddling with his thoughts maliciously - but the man's voice was still gentle and pleasant.
"I really can't help wondering if you did it on purpose."
...But now she's as obedient as a cat being grabbed by the scruff of the neck, looking aggrieved and confused, so much so that the fur all over her body is slightly standing on end. This makes him unable to help but - go a little further.
"What do you mean by intentional?" But compared to the dangerous situation that could get out of control at any moment, his old enemy seemed to be still entangled in his words, and his brows could not help but frowned more and more: "Do you mean that you want to beat me?"
Azuka narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn't answer immediately, but at the last moment, he bit his nemesis's neck without hesitation, leaving a shallow tooth mark that happened to cover the carotid artery amidst the other's muffled groan.
"No. This time I mean, make me want to fuck you."
The Savior smiled gently and slowly licked the blood on his lips. With that holy and beautiful face, it seemed as if some vulgar and straightforward words did not come out of his mouth at all.
"……stand up."
Someone didn't move, just blinked innocently at him: "Professor?"
His old enemy said sternly: "You bit me again."
"Sorry, I couldn't help it." He admired the possessive teeth mark for a moment: it was so perfect that one could tell at a glance who it belonged to - but in the end, he regretfully cast a healing spell and wiped it off the other person's neck.
"And the sheets and pants are dirty."
"I'll help you clean it." The savior continued to coax people.
Seeing that the man's lips were still stiffly pursed, Azuka frowned slightly and simply leaned over and kissed his nemesis's forehead soothingly, letting the man's knees tense and lean against his arms. "You don't look too good—are you annoying?"
The blond youth's voice was incredibly soft, carrying a strong hint of temptation and coaxing: "Did I make you feel uncomfortable just now? Or are you angry with me?"
The other party finally glanced at him sinisterly and said, "No, it's just a leg cramp."
Azuka: “…”
The professor endured the intense cramping pain in his hamstrings with an expressionless face: "It hurts."
Being pulled and suppressed by the weight of an adult male for too long, lacking exercise and being a 007 for a long time is really unbearable.
Finally, he was sprawled lazily on the clean bed, being massaged to loosen up his muscles. The professor had been drowsy from the massage, but suddenly, as if remembering something, he flung open his eyes, braced himself on the mattress, and tried to escape.
"I'll revise the plan tomorrow." Azuka calmly pushed him back. "Since it involves the Natalin people, I understand some parts more thoroughly than you do. I believe it will be more complete than what you've done tonight."
His old enemy blinked slowly and lay down again obediently: "Oh."
The black-haired young man quietly closed his eyes again. When Azuka thought he had fallen asleep and was about to carefully cover him with the quilt, the guy suddenly opened his eyes again, as if he was struggling to wake up from his sleepiness.
"I understand what you mean by 'hardship,'" his nemesis said without warning. Despite being half asleep, he looked smug as if he had solved a mystery. "You mean the difference in our anatomy will lead to sexual disharmony?"
“…”
Seeing that no one spoke, Nova stared at him in confusion: "Did I misunderstand? Isn't this what you mean?"
Then he was roughly pressed into someone's arms. The other person's slender fingers dug deep into his hair and kneaded it resentfully. Somehow, the savior's voice seemed a little suppressed, even a little gnashing of teeth: "Sleep."
Seeing the man frowning and trying to ask more questions, Azuka threatened him calmly: "If you ask one more question, I will let you get the answer through personal experience."
"If I remember correctly, you have an important meeting tomorrow morning," he reminded with a smile, "and I swear you won't be able to get up tomorrow."
Now he is finally obedient.
The blond sighed and hugged her tighter. The hair beneath his fingertips was so soft that he couldn't help but press it with his lips, letting the slightly messy ends curl slightly around his fingers, giving the illusion of being exceptionally gentle... but it was ultimately just an illusion.
The other party never showed the same reaction from beginning to end. Even if he intended to seduce her, this "closeness" seemed to be just one person's confusion in the end. His old enemy had never lied. He lacked sexual desire for him. All the instinctive reactions that his body had had were just because of "health."
This also reminded him from a strange perspective of the "abnormality" of the person in his arms - and this abnormality actually made the gods feel a subtle sense of panic, like a believer facing a selfless statue.
Azuka slowly closed his eyes, his fingers gently stroking the back of the other's neck still gentle, gentle and forbearing.
…So please be a little more greedy, need me a little more, ask for a little more from me, or simply look at me more, more—otherwise how can I love you, my moon? Other ways except to kill you?
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