Chapter 50 Believer Rose
Like a hammer blow to a nerve, Buster stiffened, jerked back, and stared at Reinhardt in astonishment.
Especially after noticing that their own bodies were reacting.
He is a normal man with emotional awareness and emotional thinking.
His body's subconscious reaction, his wildly beating heart, and the almost uncontrollable throbbing in his heart made it impossible for him to continue ignoring the surging emotions in his heart by using excuses such as "he doesn't like men," "he's not interested in the Son of God," and "he's just his partner."
...
He likes Reinhardt.
Only at this moment did he realize this like a normal human being. And only at this moment did he understand why he had acted like a psychopath, constantly touching Reinhardt for no reason.
His instinct was to gravitate towards the object of his affections.
The emotions he had never experienced before were completely foreign to him, and the Storm Leader was unusually at a loss for words due to shock.
But he quickly calmed down, composed himself, and focused his attention entirely on Reinhardt to observe his condition.
He likes Reinhardt.
Yes, he liked this poor, handsome, and dim-witted fool.
Perhaps it was from the very first time we met?
uncertain.
But Buster couldn't figure out when he started to care so much about Reinhardt.
I care whether he eats enough and whether he gains weight. I care about his well-being and his emotions.
Now he is more concerned about Reinhardt's reaction.
Unexpectedly, yet predictably, the Son of God did not react, nor did he resist.
...Perhaps he doesn't understand, Buster thought.
He did not resist, perhaps because he was too confident in himself and did not understand what such an intimate act as kissing meant for two independent individuals.
The previous surge of emotion subsided abruptly, replaced by a deeper, more turbulent torrent of feelings. It contained the burning heat of confirming one's feelings, a pity bordering on guilt, and a strange emotion called "possessiveness" that quietly grew, only to be forcibly suppressed.
He felt despicable. Okay, he was indeed morally despicable, he was despicable.
The Storm Leader tried to calm his breathing, his fingers silently tracing Reinhardt's lips as he murmured, like a devil tempting a young boy.
"If you don't like it, you can push me away."
Unaware of what had happened, Reinhardt tilted his head back blankly, trying to glean details of the event with his poor eyesight.
Unfortunately, he could only vaguely make out the outline of the Storm Leader.
But there was a vigorous flow of blood in his chest cavity, and Reinhardt felt the throbbing beneath his skin growing stronger.
The word "storm" should evoke a cold, harsh hue, but the storm before him was like a fiery whirlwind, its heat rising until it almost scorched him. Strong arms encircled him, and Reinhardt could almost hear the frantic heartbeat beneath that physique.
The poor son of the god had his chin gently pinched.
He obediently raised his head, only to see the Storm Leader's large head bow down to him again.
As before, Reinhardt's lips were tentatively and gently touched.
With his vision restricted, Reinhardt felt a burning sensation in his chest as his other senses were amplified.
The burning firewood emitted a constant, faint crackling sound, occasionally bursting into tiny sparks. Reinhardt heard the Storm Leader's breathing become erratic, mingling with his own.
Reinhard still couldn't quite define what liking was, but he could roughly distinguish the categories of such liking and then carefully confirm them without feeling any fear.
The Storm Leader's behavior was very similar to that of his twin brother Battan, who tried to touch him. His keen intuition could sense the strong emotional implications behind it.
He could also understand that they were not entirely the same, and at least from his personal perspective, he would not be averse to or afraid of the Storm Leader's touch.
Even... there was a slight burning sensation in my chest.
Something he couldn't see was surging, overflowing from the gap in his heart, slowly filling the emptiness in his soul.
It seemed to flow with a fiery color, which puzzled and surprised Reinhardt, so he did not choose to push it away.
His acquiescence, however, provided the man with an excuse to push his luck, after a simple, gentle second kiss. Buster stepped back slightly, giving the Son of God space and observing his reaction.
Then he saw the pure, obedient appearance of the Son of God with trembling eyelids.
He felt his body temperature slowly rising.
Perhaps the medicated patch therapy worked, but he now leans more towards the idea that Reinhardt, like him, has also fallen in love.
...His holy father, this boy is really handsome.
This wasn't a fact he'd only discovered today; the Storm Leader had always been aware of it. But now, as he focused intently on tracing the features of the Son of God, he felt a strange, almost soul-stirring sensation.
His fingers unconsciously pressed against the back of his neck, pressing down on his soft hair with his knuckles, and Reinhardt's body was slowly tilted forward under his control.
Then, a third kiss landed.
Unlike the first surprise and the second tentative kiss, this one felt somewhat rough, like a small storm sweeping in, stealing even your breath into the small space of your mouth.
The aggression was not limited to words; Reinhardt could feel a small flame igniting on his side, spreading outwards with each touch.
The faint sounds escaping from his throat were chewed up and swallowed by Buster, who then used his tongue to savagely pry open a gap between his teeth.
Too brutal, Reinhardt involuntarily shrank back, but was gently pressed down by two large hands, half forced and half compelled to submit.
A strange emotion surged in my chest.
Reinhardt's long golden hair was tangled haphazardly between his arms from the other's rough caresses, and his cloak slipped off his shoulders as he moved.
Fortunately, Reinhardt's body had warmed up, but his penis was still trembling from sensitivity, touched by an individual who did not belong to him.
The Storm Leader gently cradled the Son of God by the back of his neck and laid him down on the ground, where his cloak provided simple shelter from the cold.
His kisses followed, his body pressing against Reinhardt's, providing him with a constant source of warmth in this unfamiliar, icy land.
Golden hair then spread across the ground, shimmering beautifully in the firelight. Buster was captivated by the son of the god's lips and the corners of his eyes, which were gradually turning red from kissing.
The faint blush on her fair skin resembled a hibiscus rose bathed in golden sunlight—pure, alluring, and irresistible.
He became a mountaineer who worked hard to climb mountains and valleys in order to witness Hua Yan's beauty.
He placed his palm on Reinhardt's cheek, and the latter, like a flower bud swaying in the wind, tilted his head in a daze and gently rubbed against his palm.
The spire had already outlined the shape unique to the son of the gods, and Buster, unable to contain his emotions, kissed Reinhardt's collarbone.
As the other person's fingers reached out and gently grasped his short hair, he savored the fragrance emanating from Reinhardt, moving it up his chin.
Like a devout believer, offering up body and soul...
Just to kiss his god.
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Author's note: [Hugs] It's a rosebud, not a rosebud flower, don't get it wrong!
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