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

Chapter 28: Chapter 28: The Cold Summons

[Item effect at 0%. Aphrodisiac elimination process complete.]

The beeping sound of 000 rang out like a life-saving bell. The very moment the counter hit zero, the dense fog clouding Lucien’s rationality vanished in the blink of an eye. The maddening craving, that hollow sensation demanding to be filled from deep within his very marrow, suddenly receded like the ebbing tide.

However, the thing that replaced it was a tearing agony shooting straight from his lower body up to his brain.

"Ah... ngh!" Lucien groaned, but this time it was not out of pleasure but sheer pain. He widened his eyes, his hands instinctively pushing hard against the sweat-drenched chest of the man above him.

But how could his strength right now compare to a wild beast at the peak of its arousal? Dominic Vance swiftly captured both of his wrists and pinned them above Lucien’s head. The man’s long, narrow eyes darkened completely as he locked his hips tight, driving in one final, brutal thrust so deep that it felt as though he desperately wanted to carve Lucien right into his own flesh. The scorching hot, thick semen erupted like molten lava, spraying violently into the deepest reaches inside him.

Lucien jolted violently, the blue veins on his neck bulging out. He opened his mouth wide to gasp, but no sound could escape his throat as his vision went completely black.

Dominic Vance panted heavily, burying his face into the hollow of Lucien’s neck, greedily breathing in the faint scent of sweat mixed with the distinct aroma of carnal desire. The most primal form of satisfaction filled his gaze. The man did not utter any words of love, yet the way he caressed Lucien’s spine and sucked on his neck carried an overwhelmingly tyrannical sense of possession.

"Such a good boy." He whispered, his voice hoarse and lazy: "Get some rest."

Upon finishing his words, Dominic Vance slowly withdrew his softening member from Lucien’s body, eliciting an obscene, wet pop. He threw on a bathrobe and strode directly into the bathroom to clean himself up, completely unaware that the eyes of the person lying on the bed had already regained their cold, crystal-clear lucidity.

Listening to the splashing sound of running water, Lucien lay face down on the mattress, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he cursed inwardly, "Motherfucking dog system! You sold me counterfeit goods, did you not? My damn waist hurts so much it feels like it is about to snap in half!"

[I already warned you.]

Lucien ground his teeth together. Just as he was about to snap back, the piercing ring of his phone suddenly filled the room. He furrowed his brows and painfully propped himself up on his hands, dragging his battered body to the edge of the bed to snatch the device.

Flashing on the screen were two words: "Mr. Sinclair".

Lucien’s eyes darkened. It just went to show how much this body loathed that father of his. He could not even be bothered to save the contact name as "Father" on his phone.

Lucien pursed his lips, swiped the screen, and brought the phone to his left ear. Before he even had the chance to speak, an incredibly freezing voice transmitted from the other end of the line, devoid of even the slightest trace of familial warmth.

"Come home immediately."

There was no explanation whatsoever, nor was there any room for refusal. The command was issued exactly like whistling for a mangy dog to return to its kennel, followed by an abrupt click as the call disconnected.

Lucien stared at the pitch-black screen, the corners of his lips curling up into a mocking smirk. He knew perfectly well that if he were to tell Dominic Vance right now, with the surging possessiveness of a wild beast that had just fed to its fill, the man would undoubtedly keep Lucien here, perhaps even stepping forward to put the Sinclair family in their place.

But Lucien did not want that.

He was not quite ready to hide entirely behind the male lead’s back. To cower in someone else’s shadow meant forever remaining nothing more than a plaything. He had to personally tear the masks off those hypocrites with his own two hands. He needed to gather enough grievances so that when he finally flipped the table later on, it would deal a truly devastating blow.

Or perhaps Lucien was also keenly aware that Dominic Vance likely only viewed him as a tool for releasing his urges. Lucien lowered his gaze, looking at his own body entirely covered in the purple and blue bruises of their fierce lovemaking, his expression turning slightly rigid.

Dominic Vance stepped out of the bathroom wiping his wet hair. Seeing Lucien struggling to put his clothes back on with a sickly pale complexion, he frowned and approached: "Where are you going?"

"It is just a family matter." Lucien cast his eyes downward, concealing the coldness within them and replacing it with his usual docile, somewhat resigned demeanor: "Father told me to come home. His flight had some issues, so he could not leave for his business trip yet."

Dominic Vance paused in his tracks, a flash of displeasure appearing in his eyes. He had clearly taught the Sinclair father and son a lesson already, yet those people still refused to be completely obedient.

However, in Dominic Vance’s perception, the Sinclair family was ultimately just a weak, inferior household desperately trying to curry favor with his own family. He had never witnessed the sheer magnitude of madness and corruption within that household with his own eyes. Therefore, Dominic thought to himself: since he had already made his stance clear, could that family really dare to go too far? Thus, he let out a cold snort: "Go and come back early."

Lucien nodded, pulling the collar of his coat up high to hide the stark red bite marks on his neck. Gritting his teeth, he dragged his exhausted body step by heavy step out of the villa.

The Sinclair residence was not quite what Lucien had imagined.

It was not a battlefield filled with deafening screams, smashed objects, or noisy cursing. On the contrary, the moment he stepped through the grand double doors, the atmosphere inside was terrifyingly quiet.

A suffocating tension forcefully constricted his chest.

Inside the vast, frigid living room, the three of them were sitting there. Mr. Sinclair sat in the seat of honor, his dignified face pitch-black with fury. The stepmother sat right beside him, maintaining a poised and elegant posture. Miles Sinclair sat on the single sofa chair; his eye sockets were slightly red, and it seemed the boy had been genuinely crying rather than just putting on an act this time.

The atmosphere was exactly like a joint tribunal, and he, Lucien Sinclair, was the most despicable criminal stepping into the defendant’s dock.

The moment Lucien steadied his footing, the psychological assault commenced immediately. The one to open the attack turned out to be the woman who always wore the mask of a loving mother.

She set her teacup down and looked up at him with eyes brimming with absolute heartbreak. She spoke in a gentle tone, yet it carried an armor-piercing lethality, "Lucien, you have truly disappointed me."

The silence was shattered by a hypocritical sentence of condemnation. Lucien lowered his eyes, his arms hanging by his sides as his hands clenched tightly into fists. Fuck it all, just a single sentence was enough to make the hot blood in his veins boil furiously. What was she disappointed about? Was she disappointed because he refused to simply roll over and die in some dark corner, but instead had the audacity to crawl into Dominic Vance’s bed?

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