There's No Love In the Deathzone (BL)
Chapter 85: [Bonus - ] The Flower’s Star (2)

Chapter 85: [Bonus Chapter] The Flower’s Star (2)

No, he said, with a smile akin to a challenge.

It was as if he wanted to see what I would do with that rejection. This Radia Mallarc, who had never seen rejection in life before.

I wondered sometimes; should I saw that smile and those eyes at the start of it all, before I got dragged in his pace this far, would I be able to just scoff at it and left him then? Just like how I did with everyone else?

Who knows. When I came to realize it, it was too late already.

I had never been this close with everyone else but him. I had never desired someone as much as I desired him. I had never thought about someone as often as I did about him.

Within five years, without me even realizing it, his presence had grown so much inside me; inside my head, inside my heart. Without him ever doing anything but just staying there, in his silence and heavy presence.

No, he said?

If it was someone else, I would either put him down a page or just leave him to his devices–your lost, whatever.

But I couldn’t now. I already couldn’t get him out of my head. I couldn’t even fulfill my carnal needs without conjuring his image anymore.

No? I wouldn’t have that.

So I did what I do best–brazenly pressing forward. If he refused to accept me, then I’d just make it so that he couldn’t help but want to.

I was no longer just staying on his bed and occupying his sleeping place–I jerked off there. Rudely spilling my essence on his always pristine, neat bedsheet. Unapologetically leaving with only a simple wipe that did nothing for the wet stain visibly glaring at the real owner.

He wouldn’t say anything to me even then, and I would find the sheet had been changed–obviously–the next time I made a visit. It honestly started to get on my nerves how he acted like nothing happened at all. I would even feel better if he scolded me for it–I knew he would get in trouble with his father if the old man knew.

But he still faced me with that stone face of his. So I upped the game.

This time, I did it in front of him.

Actually, it was more precise to say that I did it behind him, since he had his face glued to his book on his desk, sitting with a straight back like the disciplined boy that he was. It was sexy though, since I could see the outline of his defined back muscle through the fitted exercise shirt that he wore.

If he did not react even after the audible squelching sound and my voluntary moans, I had to send some psyche-type esper to him.

Fortunately, he did. He looked back and raised his brow at my display. I thought he would just sigh or shrug and just nonchalantly go back to his book. But he turned with his chair, facing me. He leaned back, elbow propped on the armrest, and fingers supporting his temple as he watched me with deadpan eyes as if watching a live cam boy show.

Fuck–that was so hot of him.

I didn’t have to imagine anymore, since the material was right there in front of me, clothed as he was. But that straight gaze and bored attitude sent shivers down my spine. It was enough to get me hot and bothered and came there and then, as I stared at his unflinching deep, dark eyes.

It was different. For the first time, I felt deeply satisfied while reaching my peak. Even though all I did was touch myself. It took me a while to come down from the leftover tingling.

What brought me back was his deep voice. "You’re done?"

I looked at him, too satiated to feel annoyed at his bored tone. "You want a bonus show?" I asked with a smirk.

"As long as you clean it yourself," he shrugged, lacing his fingers in front of him like an observer. It got my eyes flew to the middle of his pants, and it annoyed me even more that I couldn’t spot any sign of arousal.

So I barked rather harshly as a response. "Why? Tired of cleaning up after me? Why don’t you tell me to stop, then?"

He smiled then, this motherfucker. A deep smile that got my heart jolted. "No, but I’ll be grateful if you spill it somewhere else."

"What? Like your floor?"

"That would be acceptable,"

That damn mouth. I wanted to kiss that mouth so badly. No–I wanted that mouth to plunder mine, hard, until I got hard just from the taste of those lips. But just as soon as it was visible, it went away just as fast.

I stared at him long, at his unflinching, unbothered midnight eyes. I really couldn’t understand him–what exactly did he want? He didn’t want to have sex with me, but he also didn’t reject the notion. He let me masturbate all over his room, to him, but he didn’t seem to be stimulated by it.

Did he or did he not have any interest in me?

But well, since he gave me his permission, I might as well use it. Not that I ever thought much about it. I freely used him as my live masturbation material, sometimes not even in his home, but in the academy. It was becoming amusing to see his unchanging expression even in a semi-public space, and it became some kind of a challenge for me to cajole any form of reaction from this stone wall of a man.

Oh, worry not–I always made sure there were no Shin or Bas around when I did it in his room. As much as I was an asshole, I had no hobby of traumatizing kids.

One day, after I finished tutoring Shin and sent the kids on a snacks errand, I sneaked into Joon’s room as usual, and was greeted with his perfectly sculpted pecs and abs dripping in water. The room was filled with the scent of his soap, and as a healthy member of a young adult, my hand moved to close the door in reflex.

With the same reflex, my mouth shouted at him. "Don’t get dressed yet!"

Joon, who was in the middle of drying his hair, took the towel down and paused, staring at me amusedly. I wasted no time on this opportunity, climbing into his swivel chair and undoing the buttons of my pants, eyes never left that enticing figure.

He tilted his head, and then, with a slight chuckle, tossed his towel aside and leaned back into the cabinet, baring his taut muscles all for me to feast.

And feast on it I was.

The view was delightful. I had memorized it for years, but looking at it beat any fantasizing. My eyes traced every shape of his muscles, every contour, and wished–oh, how they wished they could peek at what was hidden below those loose track pants.

Thinking about it got me wondering about it; the shape, the color, the size. As if translating my thought into action, my other hand pushed my pants lower, so I could reach to the back, rubbing on my entrance.

And then I saw it; the glint in his eyes, and the smile.

Ah, fuck!

Wetting my fingers with saliva immediately, I wasted no time plunging my fingers inside, chasing away the sudden itch I felt beneath my abdomen. Damn it–it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to come closer and take me, fill me, ravage me. I wanted him to–

"You look miserable there," his deep voice was already hovering above my ears.

Since when? When did he walk here? My vision was filled with his solid chest, my sense was assaulted by his scent. His sturdy arms were on the chair, caging me, and I could feel his breath grazing my earlobe.

My breath hitched, and for the first time, I knew what it felt like to be flustered.

"Do you need help?" this time, he didn’t just sound deep, but also sultry, alluring, as if he was made to seduce humans into oblivion.

Because that was what he did to me. Before I could even say yes, the combination of his voice, his scent...his everything that blasted into my consciousness, already made me tense and writhed on his chair, twitching and spilling all over my hands.

I could hear his low chuckle, and it sounded as sexy as it was frustrating. He retreated then, as I slumped in his armchair managing my breath. I didn’t know if I wanted to curse him or beg him to fuck me already. My mind felt like a mess, something that I had never experienced before.

Suddenly, in the midst of my frustration, I felt his hand–large, strong hands–hold my own. Kneeling on the floor, he wiped my stained hands thoroughly, until it was clean. He also cleaned my flaccid member, and calmly tucked me inside my pants, even going as far as buttoning me up.

He stood up, looking very much unperturbed, and it snapped something in me. My hands moved to grab his face and pull him down. But all that my lips touched was his thumb, as a steady hand held my face back. His eyes, that deep midnight, curled as if he was having fun with the situation, while those lips gave me nothing but a deep smile.

With gritted teeth, I slapped his hands away and stepped back, sending the chair slamming hard into the desk. I glared at him–at those gleaming eyes and deep smiles that only felt cruel and sinister now.

"Fuck–I can’t do this anymore!"

I didn’t care about this game he played anymore. With a furious heart, I stormed out of his room, slamming the door shut, and promised myself to never open it. Ever.

I didn’t know at that time; how well Han Joon played with my head.