Chapter 77 Love He smelled a very gentle fragrance, it was Reinhard...
It would be a lie to say he wasn't excited. Buster almost jumped for joy when he heard the quiet little potato speak up!
But he instinctively felt something was wrong.
Reinhardt is acting very strangely.
Buster frowned. He said seriously, "Do you really want to do it with me, or are you just feeling guilty and want to make it up to me with yourself?"
Reinhardt was gentle and kind, but at his core, he was stubborn and obstinate. His concern for reviving his master Buster far exceeded that for Buster himself.
Buster regrets this, and has thought more than once that if he hadn't repeatedly emphasized that it was a deal, Reinhardt might be living a more peaceful life now.
“I was wrong, Reinhardt.” Buster gazed at the beautiful face of the god and expressed his most sincere apology. “I want to do it with you, I really want to, to hold you as your lover and do everything that only lovers can do, everything that they can feel most intimately.”
"But I don't want you to have this thought out of guilt or a desire to make amends. That incident wasn't your responsibility at all; you have no obligation to compensate me, and I don't need it. I just hope you're sincere, that you genuinely like me..."
Before he could finish speaking, Buster's incessantly chattering mouth was sealed by a light kiss from the beautiful god, all sound instantly blocked in his throat. His eyes widened, and he stood there dumbfounded like a plaster statue.
He smelled a very mild fragrance, unique to Reinhardt.
The softness of the lips made his mind go blank. All of Buster's previous thoughts and emotions were kicked away, leaving him stunned on the spot, like a brainless idiot.
The golden-haired god, tilting his head slightly, quickly ended the kiss. His glossy lips parted slightly, giving him room to breathe and speak, and Buster saw the other's long, thick eyelashes trembling in the light.
Her beautiful and sacred face remained as serene as ever.
He closed his eyes tightly, his head slightly tilting as the other person stared in disbelief, like an innocent kitten, expressing his true feelings through his actions.
If Buster could endure this, he should be hung on the city gate and whipped a hundred times a day.
The body is more honest than the brain. Reinhardt felt a tightening around his waist, and the next second he was lifted into the air. The dizzying sensation in the darkness created a feeling of weightlessness, and Reinhardt frantically grabbed Buster's neck.
Immediately afterwards, he was pressed down... probably behind the door.
Before his feet could even touch the ground, an even fiercer kiss pounced on him, enveloping Reinhardt in Buster's unique scent.
The lace hat was long gone; he leaned against the door, Buster's arm still wrapped around his waist. Reinhardt was forced to tilt his chin back, enduring the ravages of the storm.
The storm was always so urgent, and the kiss was so personal. The breath of the gods was ruthlessly stolen from them, yet they accepted it with relish.
He suddenly felt his heart pounding; subtle sounds he wouldn't normally notice were magnified infinitely at this moment. The touch of skin, the flow of blood—Reinhardt felt many things he had never paid attention to before.
Of course, the feelings we once had are amplified when the other four senses are magnified infinitely.
Buster's heavy breathing, his burning body temperature, his pounding heartbeat, and the tiny Storm Leader nestled against his leg.
Rough hands slipped under Reinhardt's clothes, and as he could feel the lingering warmth of their palms, he was also aroused by those ambiguous, suggestive touches, which sent shivers down his spine. The roughness and heat climbed up his outer thighs, impatiently tracing the curves and lingering on the soft, white mounds.
Buster liked to knead every part of his body, including some very sensitive spots, which were also rubbed on the Storm Leader's tongue.
Because such rude behavior had occurred so many times, the inexperienced Son of God, who was originally a blank slate, assumed that this was how things should be.
There was even a faint sense of anticipation in my heart.
So when Buster pried open his lips, Reinhardt obediently opened his mouth as well. The close intertwining of their tongues was comforting; it was as if Buster had seen and dismantled Reinhardt's helplessness, and his heart was gently lifted up.
He felt a strange tightness in his chest, and his eyes gradually became sore and hot.
Having learned from past mistakes, Reinhardt quickly found a specific term for this feeling—grievance.
He felt wronged.
Emotions are a terrible thing; they can surge up at any moment and devour a person.
Reinhardt felt as if he were being controlled by this terrible thing, but he was still trying hard to restrain himself and prevent the tears from welling up in his eyes.
He knew that if he let go of this floodgate, he might lose control of his emotions. Buster would definitely notice his abnormality, then press him for details about what had happened, and then put aside the matter of making love and start worrying about him.
But he didn't want to speak. At this moment, in this second, Reinhardt just wanted to cast everything aside and, according to his own thoughts and consciousness, embrace the person he loved.
He wanted to fully experience the love.
When the breathtaking kiss ended, Reinhardt was gently lifted and his body sank into a soft embrace. Buster's kiss landed lightly on his brow, and Reinhardt was certain he felt loved now.
The burning heat was still there when Reinhardt's hand was taken again. Then, he touched Buster's smiling lips and received a tender kiss.
Reinhardt's lips trembled almost imperceptibly for a moment. He swallowed all the emotions that had been churning in his heart, slowly raised the corners of his lips, and returned the smile.
The next second, the Storm Leader, who was sucking on the forbidden fruit of the gods, began to frantically rummage through his clothes.
Due to his rough handling, Buster accidentally tore a huge hole in Reinhardt's clothes, turning the skirt into a derivative of a cheongsam.
“It’s broken.” Reinhardt, curled up on the sofa, had hair that he couldn’t see was messy. His hand rested helplessly on Buster’s shoulder. He tried to make his voice sound relatively calm as he said to the man who had licked his chest wet through his clothes, “You need to apologize to Victoria.”
"good."
Buster readily agreed and tore open the clothes.
As the clothing's sponsor, he stated that he would not only apologize but also express his gratitude, and would increase Victoria's shopping budget in the future, allowing her to dress Reinhardt however she wanted.
With Reinhardt's help, he soon made his own honest encounter with the gods.
His smooth, golden hair cascaded over his shoulders, bathed in the afternoon sun like a sacred river, making him appear pure even as he grappled with desire. Buster bowed his head to summon the holy essence, and upon hearing Reinhardt's near sobs and erratic breathing, he quickly released his mouth to prevent the story from ending before it had even begun.
He knelt on the sofa, on either side of Reinhardt's legs, and held the beautiful deity in his hands, kissing the corners of his rosy eyes.
The storm, which was powerful enough to destroy everything, became gentle, and a vortex of love slowly swallowed his god into the abyss.
They blend together.
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