The System Keeps Making Me Do Indecent Missions [BL, R18]

Chapter 118: Chapter 118: The Final Countdown

Every time he blearily opened his eyes and heard the man murmuring affectionately, Lucien’s heart would occasionally give a slight twinge.

And then he would obediently whisper a declaration of love amidst his own fragmented moans.

The rain outside had long since stopped, leaving only the steady sound of water dripping from the eaves onto the cold brick floor. Inside the room, bathed in the dim light of the bedside lamp, the scent of sweat and intertwined breaths mingled together, creating a sweet yet suffocating atmosphere.

It was unknown if this time was the last, but Dominic Vance was no longer rough. He cherished Lucien like a fragile piece of porcelain, every movement slow, every thrust deep yet gentle, as if afraid that even the slightest bit of force might cause the person in his arms to shatter into pieces. Lucien lay on his stomach on the bed, a pillow placed beneath his abdomen, his two hands gripping tightly onto the long-rumpled bedsheets. He no longer had the strength to moan, only able to let out small, broken sobs that followed the rhythm of Dominic’s every push. The tears had dried on his cheeks, leaving behind salty trails, but the corners of his eyes still glistened beneath the light.

"Lucien..." Dominic Vance’s voice was remarkably hoarse, his lips pressing against the youth’s bare shoulder, kissing every single vertebra that protruded beneath the thin skin. "You are too thin."

For the fourth time, Dominic Vance was no longer rough. He cherished Lucien like a fragile piece of porcelain, every movement slow, every thrust deep yet gentle, as if afraid that even the slightest bit of force might cause the person in his arms to shatter into pieces. Lucien lay on his stomach on the bed, a pillow placed beneath his abdomen, his two hands gripping tightly onto the long-rumpled bedsheets. He no longer had the strength to moan, only able to let out small, broken sobs that followed the rhythm of Dominic’s every push. The tears had dried on his cheeks, leaving behind salty trails, but the corners of his eyes still glistened beneath the light.

"Lucien..." Dominic Vance’s voice was remarkably hoarse, his lips pressing against the youth’s bare shoulder, kissing every single vertebra that protruded beneath the thin skin. "You are too thin."

Lucien did not reply; he merely let out a soft sound from his throat, and then turned his head, his mist-clouded eyes searching for Dominic’s gaze. In that very fleeting moment, he caught a strange glint in the depths of the man’s eyes, a light that any seasoned swindler could easily recognize: a sense of doting indulgence, profound worry, and a little something that looked strikingly akin to... love.

Lucien’s heart gave another sharp twinge. It was not because he felt any sort of heartbreak, but rather it was a surge of exhilaration at the realization that his prey had finally sunken deeply into the trap. The final mission was on the verge of completion.

"I am alright." He whispered, his voice as frail as a strand of silk. "You... keep going. Do not stop."

Dominic Vance bent down, pressing a kiss against his sweat-drenched temple. The man laced his fingers with Lucien’s, pinning them firmly against the mattress, and then slowly pushed a little bit deeper. Lucien cried out, his entire body shuddering violently. The sensation of being completely filled to the absolute brim, a seamless blend of agony and sheer pleasure, turned his mind entirely blank. Yet he still fought desperately to hold onto the very last thread of consciousness.

[Commencing synchronization of love and hatred energy. Progress: 96%... 97%...]

As the system’s voice echoed in his mind, Lucien closed his eyes, allowing his body to be swept away by the man’s rhythm. He told himself that just a little bit more was needed. Just a little bit more, and everything would finally come to an end.

"Dominic..." He spoke up suddenly, his voice shattering like fragile glass. "Do you... love me?"

The question slipped past his lips before he even had the chance to think. In the brief moment when he calmly reflected upon it, Lucien was also startled by his own inquiry. Then he came to understand that, at some point, perhaps the lingering obsession of this physical body was desperately screaming to demand justice for its original owner.

Dominic Vance completely froze. He lifted his head, staring intensely at Lucien, and his gaze at this moment was no longer clouded with lust, nor did it hold any scrutiny. It was something incredibly real, profoundly raw and bare, to the point where Lucien almost believed it to be the truth.

"I do." His voice was deep and low, akin to a quiet whisper. "I love you to the point of absolute madness."

Yet no one could truly know for certain whether those were sincere words from the bottom of his heart, or merely sweet nothings whispered in the throes of passion.

Once again, when the climax violently crashed over them, Lucien nearly passed out. His body spasmed uncontrollably, the tremors spreading from his lower abdomen outward to his entire form. Dominic Vance held him tightly, burying his face into the crook of Lucien’s neck, his breathing heavy and rushed. The two of them remained entangled like that in complete silence, with only the sound of their heartbeats merging together within the still, quiet night.

[Synchronization complete. The energy of love and hatred has reached the required threshold. The system will proceed to extract the host’s soul within 36 hours. The countdown has begun.]

Lucien opened his eyes, and within the pitch-black darkness, his pupils contracted. So he only had 36 hours left to live inside this broken, dilapidated body, to look at the man in front of him, and to speak his final, lingering lies.

Dominic Vance had already fallen asleep, his steady breaths puffing against Lucien’s neck. The man’s arms still maintained a vice-like grip around his waist, as if terrified that the moment he let go, Lucien would vanish without a trace. Lucien lay perfectly still, his eyes wide open as he stared up at the ceiling.

...

The next morning, Dominic Vance did not go to work.

Lucien woke up in Dominic’s embrace, his entire body aching as though he had been run over by a truck. With every breath he took, a sharp pain pierced through his chest, his stomach churning violently as if someone was mercilessly crushing it in their grip. The agony caused by the world’s rejection had returned, magnified and infinitely more ferocious than before. He tried to move, but even the slightest shift caused his vision to completely darken.

"Do not get up." Dominic Vance’s voice echoed right next to his ear, extraordinarily deep, warm, and gentle. The man supported him to lie back down, his large hand pressing flat against Lucien’s forehead. "You have a fever."

Lucien blinked. A fever? That made perfect sense. This body was inherently frail to begin with, and after being tormented for an entire night, it would be strange if he did not catch a fever. But this was good as well. He now had yet another excuse to display his vulnerability, to make the man beside him feel even more profound heartache.

"I am fine." He spoke softly, his voice thick and feeble. "You... you should go to work."

"I am not going." Dominic Vance replied curtly, and then he stood up, leaving the bed. He put on his clothes and stepped outside. A moment later, he returned with a basin of warm water and a soft cotton towel.

Lucien lay completely still, allowing the man to gently wipe his face for him. Every single caressing movement from Dominic seemed driven by a fear of causing him pain, as if terrified that even the slightest bit of roughness would make him shatter completely.

"Last night..." Dominic Vance suddenly spoke up, his tone somewhat hesitant. "Did I... hurt you a lot?"

Lucien almost let out a laugh. Hurt? The most agonizing pain he had to endure right now did not stem from the man’s relentless thrusts, but rather from this very world itself—a world that was desperately trying to violently expel him, to crush him just like crushing a mere insect beneath a heel. But he did not voice those thoughts. He merely smiled, a smile so incredibly weak yet so breathtakingly gentle that it made the heart ache.

"It did not hurt." He whispered. "As long as I can be by your side, I do not feel any pain."

Dominic Vance’s hand completely stilled upon his cheek. He stared intensely at Lucien, his pitch-black eyes seemingly trying to peer all the way into the deepest recesses of Lucien’s soul. Lucien met that intense gaze with all the sincerity he could possibly feign. He knew he was performing remarkably well. He knew that this man was steadily being reeled into the emotional snare that he had so carefully laid out.

"Lucien." He called out his name, his voice dark and low. "Do you... have any regrets?"

"Regret about what?"

"Regret being with me."

Lucien remained silent for a moment. This question lay entirely outside the realm of his calculations. The Dominic Vance of the past would have never asked something like this.

"No." Lucien replied, his tone exceptionally resolute. "I have never regretted it. And I will never regret it; after all, you are the one who has brought me salvation."

It was not entirely a lie, but it was truly a pity that the man’s salvation had come far too late; the Lucien Sinclair of this world could no longer survive. Yet in some ways, Dominic Vance was his assigned mission, and also a pivotal chance for him to secure his own life in the future.

Viewing it as a form of salvation was not technically wrong.

Dominic Vance leaned down, placing a tender kiss upon his forehead. That kiss was as light as a resting butterfly, yet it carried the immense weight of tens of thousands of unspoken words of love.

"Sleep for a little while longer. I am right here with you."

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