Chapter 419 Humiliation
When the soul of the god of love possessed Apatla and crept in silently, she was quite satisfied to see a person from another world who could hardly hide his embarrassment.
The black-haired young man sat behind his desk, his face pale and gloomy. His smoky-gray eyes, though faintly watery, were eerily cold, as if they held a piece of poisoned ice. His lips, once devoid of color, were now red and swollen, the color of a ravaged flesh. A bloody scab, left by someone's bite, clung to the inside of his lower lip, now tightly pressed into a straight line by the owner's restraint.
Analene took a deep, intoxicated breath, wanting to draw more of his powerless pain and resentment from him. The unspeakable shame and humiliation, the vulnerability and embarrassment of being forcibly exposed for others to see, simply made this radiant and powerful soul appear even more captivating, a stunning beauty that made her want to completely destroy him.
"...The Goddess of Love, Analene." The black-haired young man said slowly, his voice hoarse and tired, and he seemed to have no intention of hiding his embarrassment.
This calmness made him resemble a silver mirror, polished to every detail, clearly reflecting the ugly desires of others. Despite being subjected to such malicious torture, he remained aloof and cold, which only made Analene want to touch his true self, his unwillingness, his resentment... She would pull at his ankles, drag him into the abyss, making it impossible for him to remain calm until he completely melted, unleashing a violent and turbulent tide of pain.
"Look at you, darling!"
Analene covered her mouth and exclaimed in feigned surprise, but her eyes were like the tongue of a poisonous snake, licking the wounds on the black-haired young man's body that represented humiliation, as if she could draw some kind of strength from them.
She shook her head and said, "Poor thing, what on earth did he do to you?"
The god of lust referred to the black-haired youth's slender, pale neck. Beyond the overwhelming traces of ambiguous affection, there lay a single, glaring, bloody tooth mark, right next to a pulsating artery, proclaiming the supreme power the possessor possessed over this fragile body. The undisguised, cold, possessive desire was simply terrifying to those who watched.
The professor was silent for a moment.
This bite was taken when he was most confused and delirious. At that time, he had already been tortured by the repeated and severe grinding to the point of being unconscious. He could only tremble and whimper softly. His arms were tied and he could not hold the other person tightly. No matter how he pushed away or begged for mercy, he was tortured to the point that he could not even close his legs.
However, just as he was completely immersed in the white light that devoured his soul, his body was completely relaxed, and his mind was blank, a sudden sharp pain burst out from the side of his neck mixed with overwhelming pleasure, followed by a warm liquid flowing down his neck.
But before he could react, he was licked gently for a long time. The culprit carefully cleaned up the blood stains and gently sucked the tender flesh that was pierced by his teeth, coaxing him into falling completely into a deeper and darker wave.
...But when he woke up, he looked so miserable.
In a sense, a certain god finally got what he wanted.
This guy had actually always been keen on leaving his own marks on him, but the professor often had to go in and out of public places. Even if he didn't mention it, the savior understood that these things were not suitable for outsiders to see, so he would often kiss and bite him for a long time, and then in the morning he would use healing spells to erase these marks with a resentful and unwilling look on his face.
These thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, but on the surface the professor just pursed his lips, and his face would eventually reveal a hint of humiliation that the God of Love expected to see.
He said coldly and oppressively: "Why, isn't this what you wanted to see?"
"My dear, how could you think of me like that?" Analene said hypocritically. "I like you so much, so of course I want you to be happy."
Her voice was like a lover's sweet whisper, but the malicious allure within was unconcealable: "You should be wrapped in the smoothest and softest silk, soaked in the most precious and fragrant spices, and served by the most beautiful and obedient servants... You deserve all the best in the world—not like now, like a doll that has been carelessly played with, soiled, and then casually discarded by the gods."
professor:"……"
The Goddess of Eros believes in the power of love and lust. She is convinced that everything humans pursue is ultimately just the ultimate desire. Therefore, these particular absurdities can easily convince her, but in practice, they are still somewhat subtle and... disgusting.
"Stop talking nonsense, Analene." The black-haired young man said coldly and impatiently.
He changed his sitting posture, as if very tired, with his hand lazily supporting his chin. However, the God of Lust noticed the faint red marks on the other's wrist, which were mostly covered by the gloves, as if they were caused by ropes.
But the human in front of her still raised his chin slightly towards her, and the fragile humiliation disappeared in an instant, replaced by an arrogant look that even had a hint of alms, as if a king was touring his territory, requiring his subjects to kneel on the ground and worship him and offer him everything they had.
"I hope that everything you promised me will be fulfilled as promised," the tyrant promised grimly, "and I will also give you everything you want."
Analene's eyes flashed with a flicker of irritation. A mere ordinary person, another god's plaything, dared to speak to her like that. But her irritation was quickly replaced by amusement. She always enjoyed such proud and stubborn prey; humiliating and toying with them was even more enjoyable.
"Of course, you will get what you wish for." The God of Love said meaningfully, "Odileus, the God of the Sea, hates your lover to death. If he gets the chance, he will be happy to kill him himself. My dear, I swear, we will perish together in front of you and me."
Analene, the goddess of love, escaped.
The two sides tested each other for a long time, and the expression on the beautiful face of the priestess suddenly changed, and she looked a little panicked, although it was only a fleeting look.
"Your lover is here." She said briefly and quickly: "I can sense the fluctuations of his divine power. Of course, he can also sense mine - dear, take care of yourself."
After saying this, the cunning god of love immediately manipulated the priestess to disappear from the spot, and very disloyally left the fragile human partner to a dangerous and jealous god who was most likely in the midst of a "rage".
She didn't seem to be worried that he would be forced to explain the "deal" between the two parties to the victim, nor did she care how he would cover up the aftermath. Perhaps she was too confident in the wisdom of the people from another world - the professor's mouth twitched for a moment, and almost the next second, one hand gently closed around his neck, and the thumb gently but possessively pressed the blood scab on the bite mark on his neck, as if confirming something, which immediately aroused a dull pain.
"Who were you talking to just now?"
The god's voice was extremely gentle, yet it inexplicably terrified him. He leaned over the back of his chair, leaning down to look at the man. His golden hair gently enveloped the man's shoulders like a spiderweb, cold and soft, and his two blue eyes were like ghostly will-o'-the-wisp fire.
"You know the answer but you still ask."
The professor glanced at him in confusion. The god of love had gone far away, so there was certainly no need for him to continue to play the role of "the jealous victim and the cheating lover who was caught in the act and felt extremely guilty."
"I will 'kill you' along with all the gods." He raised his chin slightly and declared with great confidence: "Remember to cooperate with me when the time comes."
Azuka stared at him intently for a moment, then chuckled helplessly. She lowered her head and gently kissed her lover's forehead, continuing to tease, "Well, I caught you red-handed—aren't you afraid of how I'm going to 'punish' you next?"
The professor immediately looked up at him in dissatisfaction: "Isn't one bite enough? You want another one?"
A bite was enough. He had been wearing a high-necked shirt for a long time, but the ever-perceptive Marcyline finally noticed. The red-haired girl was almost indignant and wanted to seek revenge on the savior of the "oppressive tyrant", but he finally pulled her back. After repeated assurances, she reluctantly believed with a look of doubt that everything was in his plan.
The culprit couldn't help but chuckle again. He pushed the documents aside, sat down on his desk, and gently pinched the black-haired young man's cheek with his slender, warm fingers, forcing him to lift his head. He squeezed a little soft flesh from his cheek, turning it left and right, carefully examining the tooth mark.
"It's so beautiful." He praised gently and sincerely, not knowing whether he was praising his lover's confused face or the extremely clear tooth mark on the side of her neck that made it clear at a glance who it belonged to.
Seeing his nemesis's sudden look of disdain, as if he were a psychopath, the savior's eyes flickered with a faint, helpless smile. His fingers slid down, caressing the side of her neck. With a burst of warm warmth, the exposed wounds and the marks hidden deeper within her clothing gradually dissipated under the power of the spell.
"Does it still hurt?"
Azuka touched her lover's cheek with some heartache. The other person had been unconsciously shedding tears when she bit him. She didn't know whether it was because of the pain or the intense reaction that was too overwhelming to handle.
"...It doesn't hurt anymore," the professor replied dryly. He felt strangely uncomfortable and silently removed the other person's hand from his face. "Your healing spell has always been useful. Thank you."
Seeing that the man's eyes were becoming softer and he seemed to want to say something, he interrupted with a cold face, "But don't bite me again, especially so hard - it still hurts, and there's a risk of infection."
The black-haired young man paused, then added with a stiff face: "...at least don't bite the neck. It's too conspicuous and could easily cause unnecessary trouble."
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