Isri couldn't listen to anything now. He lifted his leg and walked towards Ceshir. As he got closer, the strong, pungent smell of alcohol suddenly rushed into Ceshir's nostrils.
"You've been drinking?" Cecil looked up at the person standing by the bed.
Isri lowered his head, leaned over the headboard, and said in a low voice as if talking to himself, "Young Master, I will not lie to you."
He paused, then added, "I will obey your orders."
Sehir's body trembled involuntarily, and a hint of emotion flickered in his eyes. Although it was dark, he could hear a slight tremor in Isri's voice.
But he quickly suppressed his emotions, his eyes turning cold as he opened his mouth and said, "Even now, do you think I would still believe you?"
Isri gave a self-deprecating laugh, then tilted his head back to look at Ceshir, unconsciously raising his hand to touch him.
It's so far away...
"Don't touch me!" Sehir pushed Isri's hand away again.
Isri clenched his fist again. In the darkness, their breaths became even more strained. Isri knelt on the bed and muttered to himself in a low voice, "Why don't you believe me?"
Sehir sensed that something was wrong with Isri, so he moved his body toward the bed.
But the next second, Isri grabbed Cesil's arm, threw him onto the bed, and grabbed his neck, his fingertips applying slight pressure.
"I told you... I didn't, young master, why don't you believe me?"
Sehir tilted his head back, his brows furrowed, and tried to pry Isri's fingers open with both hands, replying in broken, intermittent voices.
"What do you think... you have that I can trust right now?"
Islam was taken aback by the question, and then he heard Ceshir open his mouth again.
"Trying to play with me like a pet? Ha, having fun? Disgusting!"
Immediately, Isri was stunned by the last two words. His gaze fell on Ceshir's hand again. Suddenly, his brain exploded, and he increased the pressure on his hand, bending down and speaking in a hoarse voice.
"Where's the ring?"
Sehir struggled to open his eyes, his tone dismissive: "What's it to you?"
The more Isri thought about it, the more his head ached and he felt dizzy. Impulsiveness was about to completely overwhelm his reason. In the next instant, his eyes turned even redder than before, and he tore open Ceshir's clothes.
"Young Master, do you find me disgusting?" Isri bit Cesil's earlobe, a little harder.
Sehir shoved Isri with all his might, his mind filled with anger and shame. Sehir clenched his teeth and opened his mouth, uttering each word slowly and deliberately.
"Disgusting!"
The smell of alcohol filled the air between the two of them, and Cecil was feeling dizzy from it, but he kept biting his tongue tightly, afraid that he would pass out again.
Isri loosened his grip on his earlobe: "Since you find me disgusting, young master? Then why not be even more disgusting, so as not to betray your anger?"
Chapter 107
After saying that, Isri quickened his pace, and in no time, Cesil's clothes were in disarray, and his fair skin was soon exposed to the air.
Sehir glared at Isri, his breathing becoming rapid, and he thrashed about trying to kick Isri off him.
Seizing the opportunity, Isri reached under Sehir's legs and spread them apart, pinning them to the bed and rendering him immobile.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, he quickly tore off the thin layer of fabric from the pants with his other hand.
Sehir's eyes were bloodshot. He tried with all his might to push Isri away, but no matter how hard he hit him, Isri still managed to push him down.
“Isri! Is this really funny?” Sehir turned his head to the side and said angrily, “When are you going to stop playing this boring game?”
Sehir was clearly frightened, and his tone softened. He knew what Isri wanted to do, but the more Sehir recalled those things, the more obvious his shame and indignation became.
Isri was completely intoxicated; his vision was blurry as he saw Ceshir, and his mind was consumed by only one thought: he wanted to overthrow the man in front of him.
“Young Master…” Isri called out.
"Young master, if you beg me, I will consider letting you go."
As he spoke, a few soft laughs escaped his lips as Isri leaned close to Sehir's ear and gently exhaled.
Sesil gritted his teeth, gripping the sheets tightly with both hands, and the anger in his eyes surged up again, suppressing his previous calm voice.
Sehir turned his head, pressed his lips to Isri's ear, and spoke clearly, word by word.
"You, don't, even think about it!"
“Heh~” Isri looked up and chuckled, his eyes narrowing as he looked Ceshir up and down.
The next second, Isri reached out and ripped open Cesil's collar. His chest, still heaving with anger, resembled a delicious meal on a plate, tempting those waiting to eat.
Isri's eyes twitched slightly. He lowered his head and raised his hand to touch his protruding collarbone, but it was quickly slapped away by Cesil.
Rejected time and again, Isri's face darkened. Fueled by alcohol, Isri reached directly behind Sehir.
Suddenly, Ceshir's eyes widened, and he went berserk, resisting Isri's movements and grabbing Isri's neck until it turned red.
Because of the man's restless movements beneath him, coupled with his already blurred vision due to alcohol, Isri quickly became agitated. He reached out and ripped off his loose tie, grabbed Cecil's hand, and pressed it above his head.
"If you keep moving around, I can't guarantee who will die in front of you next time!"
Isri looked at Sehir with cold eyes, his voice uncompromising, like a judgment from hell, as if he were putting a shackle on Sehir's neck.
Sure enough, because of those words, Cecil, who had been going crazy just moments before, completely quieted down. His tie tightened around his wrists, and his fingertips seemed to have lost all feeling.
Islam continued his atrocities, seemingly unaware of what he was doing; his mind was now focused on only one thing.
That is, he wants to get this person, no matter what method he uses, as long as this person is his.
Even while biting her tongue, she still managed to suppress the painful gasps that seemed to escape her throat, as well as the delicate moans that emanated from the height of passion.
He was like a puppet being played with, his body torn apart to an extreme degree, like a piece of paper that no one would care about, torn and ravaged at will.
As if to make entry easier, Isri simply hung the tie around his wrist on the protrusion in the middle of the bed.
Because of the height, Cecilia's waist was also slightly off the bed surface, and her fair, slender waist, still bearing bright red finger marks, trembled slightly in the sweet air.
My wrists ached from the decorations behind me, and my back, which had no support, quickly became exhausted.
Just as he was about to relax, the pain in his wrist forced Cecil to raise his waist even higher.
—
The cloying smell in the room rose and fell, filling his nostrils again and again. He didn't know how much time had passed before Cecil finally couldn't help but open his mouth.
"pain……"
But the sound was so weak and insignificant that Islam didn't hear it at all.
Overwhelmed by passion, Isri lowered his head and kissed Cesil's dry lips, his voice low and deep, as if plunging one into the deep sea.
Sehir heard this sentence very clearly; it was the first time Isri had ever called out his own name since he was a child.
"Sesil...I love you."
Cecil's eyes widened, as if a gray veil had been veiled over them, dark and unresponsive. His tone was one of relief after a long time.
“Isri…I…hate you.”
In the dissipation of consciousness, the taste of blood in his mouth was completely consumed by Isri. In the last second before he closed his eyes, a sliver of light peeked out from under the curtains.
Daylight broke.
—
After venting his anger, Islam lay down on the bed and fell asleep before even getting up.
It wasn't until a sharp pain shot through his head that Isri woke up with a frown.
The smell of blood in the room was much stronger than the smell of alcohol. Isri brushed his hair behind his ear, turned around, and was startled by what he saw behind him.
The tie was still on the bedside table, and Cecil's hands were already turning blue. Not to mention his body, the bright red and purple marks were the least of it; it was almost unbearable to look at.
The person on the bed was on the verge of death, even their breathing was extremely weak. Their slender body was stained with blood, their face was deathly pale, and their lips, which were already slightly pink, were now completely devoid of color.
What has he done?!
Isri recalled the events of last night with some fear, but in the end, he could only remember some fragments.
Islam quickly lowered the person off the headboard, loosened his tie, and reached out to touch him, but then hesitated.
This person is too fragile right now. He's afraid that if he touches them, they'll leave him.
He's gone mad! What has he done?!
This is not the outcome he wanted...
The person in the bed seemed to be having a nightmare; their brows were tightly furrowed, and they looked extremely distressed.
But after such a long time without washing, Isri finally steeled himself and gently carried the person to the bathroom.
Isri moved slowly and gently, afraid of waking the sleeping man, or rather, he was terrified that Cesil would wake up.
When Sesil wakes up, he will only be more afraid of himself and more disgusted with himself. It was all a trap he had set for himself.
Chapter 108
Sehir's eyelids were heavy. Even when hot water was poured on him, he only frowned slightly and ultimately did not open his eyes.
After being cleaned, it looked much better than before. When I held it in my arms, it felt so light that it seemed like it would be blown away at any moment.
I was going to put the person back on the bed, but looking at the current state of the bed, I ended up carrying the person to my room.
When I returned to Cecil's room, the smell of alcohol and blood assaulted my senses, as if condemning my crimes.
The heavy curtains were drawn back, and the sunlight outside shone on his face, so bright it was hard to open his eyes. Isri turned around, looking at his own brutality on the bed, and frowned.
When Isri finished cleaning the bathroom, he realized in the mirror that he was also a mess.
His clothes were casually draped around his waist, and several buttons on his shirt collar had been torn off; he looked extremely disheveled.
Islam did not immediately go back to change his clothes, but instead cleaned himself thoroughly until there were no traces left before standing at the door of the room.
He felt guilty; he had never been so panicked before. It felt like countless ants were gnawing at his heart. Whether the person inside was awake or not, and what would happen after they woke up, was all unknown.
He began to regret his actions, and upon reflection, he realized that he hadn't smiled since Cecil's return.
He had indeed gone mad; he wanted to keep Ceshir by his side, he wanted to completely possess this high and mighty god who belonged exclusively to him.
But all of this was foreshadowing, hinting at something to be written. Isri raised his hand and gently knocked twice on the door.