Seducing the Guideverse With My System — Raising an Anomaly [BL]

Chapter 127: _Sinfully Hot Ghost

Ambrose could barely regulate his breathing, his fingers digging into the sofa. Viktor—probably unaware of how much he was affecting him—brushed his thumb right under his lips.

All without a word.

The worst part was that Viktor didn’t just know how much effect he was having on the Guide. He could feel it. See it—in the ways his eyes fought between staying on him and looking anywhere else.

Viktor’s heart raced at a pace he could no longer ignore.

His thumb froze just mere centimetres away from Ambrose’s lips. Hovering. Like an invitation for something bolder. He didn’t know how or when exactly... but he drew nearer until their shoulders brushed.

’What the fuck is happening?’ Ambrose’s internal voice was in full-blown panic mode. ’Fuck, fuck... this is bad. I–I can’t. We—’

The thoughts froze like ice the second Viktor’s head tilted to the side. The Esper’s eyelids batted calmly, gaze flicking from Ambrose’s eyes to his lips.

Waiting for any signs of resistance.

There were none.

So he moved closer, his fingers sliding gently to the back of Ambrose’s head. Their hearts beat in tandem—rough and loaded.

This had to be it.

"Daddy?" Orion’s shrill voice made both men pull away as if they had heard a gunshot. Their heads swung to the boy, attentive at the way he huffed out a breath from his mouth. "... It’s... kinda spicy. The beef stravangaza."

What was supposed to be a heated moment made Ambrose stifle a laugh while Viktor didn’t hold back from chuckling.

"It’s beef stroganoff, little one," the Esper pressed his thighs together, trying to ignore the sparks dancing in his belly. "And what do you mean it’s spicy?"

Orion didn’t get the chance to speak. "Told you so," Ambrose said instead, chest puffing out with pride.

Viktor rolled his eyes. "Again, you don’t get the chance to speak, Rose. You’ve chowed down on this more than any of us."

"I didn’t—"

"I didn’t mean it’s bad though," Orion corrected. Viktor arched an amused brow as he went on. "It’s... one of the best meals I’ve had since I came here. I like the spice."

Viktor’s eyes narrowed.

Something in what the boy said struck him.

Since he... came here.

He couldn’t help himself from inclining his head to Ambrose. The Guide really was a secretive one. Even after the way the media spun those pictures of him, Devon and Orion in the park, he still refused to open up.

Could the kid’s origins really be that... overwhelming?

Curious, he turned back to Orion. "Hey, little one," he said, placing an arm on the sofa, lowering his head and voice. "Do you want to tell your uncle Viktor where you’ve been before... here?"

Ambrose shifted with unease almost instantly. He frowned, gaze trailing between his son and the S-Rank. "Uhm... what are you doing?"

"Asking the boy a harmless question, little bird."

Ambrose’s cheeks reddened.

Calling him that horrid nickname in front of his son was just diabolical work.

"I’m his parent," he didn’t back down, catching Viktor by the shoulder. The latter glanced back, eyes gleaming as if he found his annoyance hot. "Any questions you have for him—you ask me."

Viktor bit his bottom lip. "Now that’s not suspicious at all..."

"It’s not meant to be. It’s been a long day, Viktor. Just... let the boy eat."

"Let him eat—which means I can ask some other time?"

"Viktor..."

"Fine, fine," the ice Prince raised both hands in mock defeat. "You win. No more questions, little bird."

"... Stop calling me that too."

"Now you’re asking for too much."

They both stayed silent after that—but inside, Ambrose’s head was a mess. He shakily grabbed a spoon again, avoiding Viktor’s silent stare.

’I don’t know how long I can keep up lying about Orion,’ he thought to himself, picking up the wine bottle. ’Barely a day goes by without someone questioning me. It’s—’

[Skill issue.]

’What is that supposed to mean?’ he wrapped his fingers around the bottle’s cork, twisting hard to pop it open. ’I’m walking around with way too many secrets. Sharing them with at least... one person—’

Whether Aura approved of his line of thought or not remained unknown. Because the very next second, the bottle opened with a bang.

Ambrose stretched it out, taken by surprise.

"What the—?" Viktor’s sharp inhale made Ambrose jolt with realization. He pulled the bottle back to himself, clasping a palm against the opening.

The Ice Prince’s top was soaking wet with a light red liquid and so was his face and a few strands of his snow white hair. He had his mouth parted, heaving with disbelief.

"Fuck," Ambrose cursed under his breath, lowering the bottle to the centre table. "I–I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to... God, look at—"

"It’s okay, daddy." Orion chimed with zero worry. "You could just bring him another shirt. You have a lot of them in your bedroom, right?"

Ambrose’s entire body stiffened like he’d been glared at by Medusa. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

This kid had zero sense of urgency.

"Does he now?" Viktor, being the sly devil he was, played along, cutting Ambrose a suggestive look. "Well, Rose? It’s the least you could do."

Of course, the Guide knew he barely had a choice in this. With a light sigh, he got on his feet, taking Viktor’s hand before he could say anything else.

Viktor grinned as they waltzed toward the bedroom doors, leaving behind a rather enthusiastic Orion. In reality, he didn’t think much about Viktor’s shirt being changed.

All his attention was fixed on the beef stroganoff before him, the meaty aroma even more inviting with fewer mouths digging in.

He giggled, stuffing a full spoon into his mouth at the same moment that Ambrose quietly shut the bedroom door behind him and Viktor.

"If," the latter’s mouth curved as Ambrose hurried to the wardrobe at the other end of the dull lit room, "you don’t wish to discuss much about your kid—"

"Viktor, not now," Ambrose grumbled, sliding the wardrobe doors open. He began skimming through the racks of shirts, careful to find one that would fit. "I feel so fucking clumsy."

"You are," the way Viktor said that so plainly made Ambrose want to turn around and smack him. "And I was trying to say... Orion is sharp for his age."

"Right — he mixed up stroganoff with stravangaza."

"Are you mocking a six-year-old’s word usage? I doubt you were any better when you were his age."

Ambrose’s cheeks flushed but he didn’t dare look back yet. Finally, he found a shirt—a black long sleeve the past Ambrose had only worn once.

He pried it out of the rack, spinning around after shutting the wardrobe doors with a flick. "Alright. What size are you ag—"

Saying he almost choked on his words wouldn’t be an understatement. His breath caught, eyes bulging like he’d seen a ghost.

A sinfully hot ghost.

Viktor had taken off his shirt, slinging it over his naked shoulder. His skin was flawless under the room’s dim light, every muscle sharp enough to kill.

And then—fuck, that damn v-line.

’... I... he... why would he...’ even his mental voice was in utter shambles. He’s seen the Esper shirtless before. But never up close.

Every breath felt like war, the corners of his vision blurring.

[WARNING: Host’s emotions in disarray. Keep away from any external stressors—oop. Except they’re walking straight to you.]

That’s right.

Viktor didn’t just stand there and look pretty. He broke the distance with easy strides that Ambrose didn’t even notice until Aura’s notification.

By then it was too late. For a so-called prince of ice, the S-Rank’s body emanated such warmth that Ambrose felt drawn. Pulled like a moth to a flame.

His hands—still trembling as they held the shirt he picked out—got caught with one grounding grip. Viktor lowered his hands, inching closer by another step.

No words were said. No thoughts shared. Yet both men could tell what the other was thinking. And both craved the same—even if one tried burying those feelings.

"You seem... tense," Viktor lowered his head, eyelids fluttering shut.

Ambrose knew what was coming. His mind screamed for him to back away. To do something. Yet every cell in his body kept him rooted in place, the permanent link tightening like an unbreakable tether.

And then—

—Their lips met.

The kiss was gentle. Almost like Viktor was trying to assess if he was okay with it. Expecting a reaction. So when Ambrose didn’t stop... neither did he.

He seized the Guide by the back of the head, the kiss deepening into something more intense. The shirt Ambrose held dropped to the floor, his fingers tightening around Viktor’s arms.

This was happening. This was actually happening!

As Viktor’s touch became less PG, Ambrose’s legs went numb. He was at the Esper’s mercy and didn’t know how to let go.

That’s until his skin bristled with a jolt, his spatial awareness alerting him to a shift outside the room. His eyes widened as he jumped back from the S-Rank.

Too late.

The bedroom door swung open, a face he dreaded seeing during a time like this popping in anyway.

... Devon.