Stars See Me [Interstellar] | Chapter 104 | The Sun's Embrace | Novela.app

The texture of the Vice-Legionnaire’s uniform gloves was coarse. So was that hand. Whether it was between his lips and tongue, or in... all the secret realms that man needed to explore, those calloused fingers carried a heat that was far too scalding for him. It forced him to grit his teeth amidst a daze of warmth, and then, in the mingling of their breaths, his last shred of cognitive ability was stripped away. Had he made a sound? He didn't know. There were only those hands—those steady, powerful hands—and that embrace he craved to be closer to, more and more and more. That burning embrace... This was not the punishment he was accustomed to or lingered upon, yet it similarly submerged him beneath the waves, making him forget everything and rely on instinct, letting tears dampen his eyelashes in his dreams. If his soul was a landscape covered in wind and snow, then the hot spring that never froze had finally found its destination today. When the ocean is encircled by mountains, warm sunlight spills across the sea's surface. Faint ripples rose and fell, carrying the shimmering, golden glint of the light. In a groggy state between sleep and wakefulness, Evanhilem opened his eyes blankly. He rolled over and sat up from the bed, yet he felt no discomfort... no, there was discomfort. He was... unsatisfied. None of it had happened; it was merely a dream of his... a blurred illusion that had often haunted his dreams over the past few years. He knew it wasn't a good thing. The negative energy of the Ethereal Plane was eroding him... it was always like this. He carried too many curses... far too many. In the hazy darkness, he found himself in the very room where everything had occurred. Thus, Evanhilem stared blankly at the door, quietly waiting for a person who had once appeared there. Even though he knew that, aside from that young man, anyone else who entered through that door would be a devil to be met with a sharp blade. But this dream-within-a-dream seemed different—even though he had "woken up," that door remained closed. Why? And... gradually, or perhaps in the span of a single breath as he tried to stand, the usual chilling cold receded. A vast, tolerant, steady, and moving warmth arose spontaneously. The wind and snow that usually howled outside fell silent, and golden sunlight spilled through the doors and windows, landing upon him... It was so warm. In his muddled dream, Evanhilem stumbled to the door, staring down at his hands in a daze. Those were not "Valen’s" hands. They belonged to "Evanhilem Corn." An impulse made him reach out that hand, grasp the doorknob before him, and turn it gently. Outside the door was no longer the starless darkness of the Ethereal Plane. Instead, it was a stretch of... warm sunlight that should have been harsh and cruel. …… …… When he woke again, Evanhilem’s first thought was: *It’s so warm.* His second thought came when he tried to roll over and get out of bed. It was— —*W-warm?!* Amidst the warmth, Evanhilem was jolted awake. Immediately, he was shocked to find himself tucked under a warm, soft duvet, lying on his side in the pod-style bed of his rented room. He had been changed into a clean shirt from his luggage. Only a shirt. Of course, he didn't need more warm clothing. This was because he only had to lean back slightly to press against a warm, thick chest, and also because whatever he wore now would surely need a thorough washing later. A powerful heartbeat thrummed in his ear; warm breath heated the bedding and this embrace. His entire being was completely enveloped in the young man’s arms, yet he did not feel the slightest hint of authoritarian violation or an affront to his dignity. He was being protected; he could feel it. Such tolerant, gentle, fervent, and powerful protection. It was love. Evanhilem’s gaze went blank. He was melting, dissolving into this warmth. To this end, he slowly moved his head and found himself pillowed on a firm, muscular arm—no bracers, only the crisp fabric of a uniform. That black fabric wasn't comfortable, but Evanhilem was familiar with it—all standard military daily uniforms in the Federation used this material. It had once draped over him as well. For a moment, the great esper "Starstream" didn't even dare to turn around. Because of his guilt, his expectations, his stray thoughts, and his turbulent desires, as well as that sliver of delusion deep in his heart that bordered on darkness. He could feel a potent sense of danger emanating from the sun behind him—a sun that would not burn him. He knew a saint made of steel was holding him... Evanhilem pursed his lips. A moment later, the large, warm hand that had been gently caressing his waist slid down and grasped the hand he had placed on the bed. Evanhilem instinctively twitched his fingers. But he did not try to break free from this gentle, broad, and burning restraint; instead, he allowed the other to interlace their fingers. Then, he felt Raytine rise. Powerful arms encircled him, lifting him up and seating him within that warm, solid embrace. A water glass flew over from nearby. The kettle had, at some point, boiled water on its own to a pleasant temperature. But after drinking the water, Evanhilem’s face turned cold. Raytine leaned down against his neck, stroking his silky, smooth blonde hair while asking softly amidst the sweet, delicious scent of peppermint: "What is it, Evan?" The name made the corners of Evanhilem’s mouth twitch, but he only let out a long sigh. "Do you know what you're doing?" He shifted his posture so the hem of the shirt could cover what needed to be covered, asking in his low, raspy voice: "‘Solar Star,’ I am many years older than you..." "I don't care," Raytine said softly. Besides, for high-level espers, age was never truly an issue. "We are both high-level espers. The probability of producing offspring is very, very, very low," Evanhilem said coldly. "With me, you likely won't have children." "Continuing a bloodline holds no attraction for me," Raytine answered amiably. That was the honest truth. "..." Evanhilem tilted his head back in a helpless sigh, only to have his earlobe kissed as Raytine took the opportunity to pull him closer. His sigh grew even louder: "There are so many young, beautiful Omegas out there who would be utterly devoted to you. What exactly do you see in an old man like me?" "To prevent you from saying 'tell me what you like so I can change it,' I've decided to refuse to answer that question." Raytine laughed. This response, so uncharacteristic of the "Solar Star’s" status, made Evanhilem turn his head. There, he saw a pair of golden eyes radiating an incredible brilliance, and a smile that carried a hint of boyishness, revealing a small canine tooth. This caused him to freeze instinctively, then he lowered his head again and turned back. "I left you once," Evanhilem said softly. And what he didn't say—though they both knew it in their hearts—was that after this, he would certainly, inevitably, absolutely try to leave again. And Raytine would use every possible means to stop him. Because their stances were different. If two powerful beings stood on different mountain peaks, yet their eyes were fixed on the same starry sky... they were destined to never be able to get along as peacefully as they were now forever. And Raytine... "People always try to prove the existence of loyalty in a relationship, but... Mr. Evanhilem Corn, we were never lovers to begin with, and 'waiting for a friend' is not a 'responsibility' in itself." Raytine’s smile faded. He lowered his eyes, gently stroking Evanhilem’s brilliant blonde hair, and spoke softly to some empty space: "You simply chose to give up a boring friend for the sake of an ideal... that shouldn't be a bad thing for you, much less a burden." Evanhilem’s heart nearly stopped for a moment. He thought dazedly of those two small suns; they were so magnificent, so radiant. It wasn't until his heartbeat returned in a rush that he hurriedly gathered his thoughts and reclaimed his original breathing rhythm. Something was churning deep in his heart. He found it hard to describe, but he knew it had existed for a long time. Also... "boring friend"? Those words were... incredibly petty. His saint, as young and powerful as a new sun, was intentionally or unintentionally revealing a selfish side to him... and as the ultimate goal of that selfishness, he could only chuckle softly. He shifted uncomfortably, only to find that no matter how he moved, he would ultimately remain within this embrace. "I want to take a shower." Evanhilem’s voice was not light. He said in a low tone: "The bathroom is right there. Let go of me." "..." Amidst the sweet fragrance, Raytine tightened his arms, holding him deathly tight for a good while before finally letting go, watching as the man stood up and leaned forward in front of him. Raytine’s breath hitched. His golden gaze flickered for a moment, and he instinctively pursed his lips, which were not at all dry. Evanhilem, meanwhile, acted as if he felt nothing. He even took his time stretching by the bed, then began unbuttoning his shirt as he walked toward the adjacent bathroom. The fabric loosened bit by bit. When he tossed the black shirt aside, a liquid—likely sweat—slid down his skin, which was marked with various old and new scars. He did indeed look like he needed a shower. The blonde man stepped into the somewhat narrow bathroom and reached out to turn on the recessed showerhead. A gentle curtain of water, pre-set to a comfortable temperature, spilled down, quickly soaking his hair and making it cling to his handsome, refined face. He seriously lowered his head and turned to let the warm water wash over him. After a thought, he turned on the ventilation system and dialed the temperature up a bit higher. The sound of rustling water echoed from a distance that was almost within reach. Raytine took a deep breath and lowered his legs to get off the bed. As he moved, he felt that his trousers were not only tight but that there was actually a patch of cold moisture on his thigh. He froze for a moment, then lowered his head somewhat stiffly, shocked to see a large, damp stain. "Respected Vice-Legionnaire, the promising Double-S rank esper, my dear 'Solar Star'..." In the bathroom, the slender man tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he cupped water and splashed it against his neck. "Do you know what I was thinking when you were saying those things just now?" "..." Raytine turned to look at the blurred silhouette behind the frosted partition. He opened his mouth, but when he spoke, his voice was impossibly raspy: "...What?" "I was thinking..." Evanhilem rested one hand on the partition handle and lowered his head, laughing softly. "...When," he murmured under his breath, "are you going to come and break me?" ***