FRGL chapter 57

It was so like Eugene to turn something as simple as drinking into an elaborate game.

Normally, Luo Hai wouldn’t even entertain such nonsense. But maybe it was the alcohol numbing his senses, or maybe it was the way the gin tasted, making him feel just a little lightheaded. He let Eugene guide his hand down and met his gaze with a challenging look.

“What, you have another trick up your sleeve?”

“Just drinking wouldn’t be much of a penalty, would it?” Eugene said, lowering his voice, though the teasing lilt in his tone was unmistakable. “How about this—the loser has to drink the alcohol off the winner’s body… and the winner gets to decide where it’s poured.”

A jolt of electricity ran down Luo Hai’s spine. He hadn’t even had much to drink yet, but he was already feeling a little intoxicated.

“Of course, if the upright Prosecutor Luo Hai can’t accept such a game, then forget it,” Eugene said with a chuckle. “I never force anyone.”

That was an open challenge.

Something about Eugene’s tone ignited an inexplicable competitive streak in Luo Hai. His expression remained cold, but he set down his glass and, without warning, pushed Eugene hard by the shoulder.

Caught off guard, Eugene tumbled onto the bed. Luo Hai immediately leaned over him, his knee pressing against the mattress beside Eugene. His bangs fell forward naturally, brushing against Eugene’s long lashes.

“Tell me—where do you want it?” Luo Hai asked, not realizing the slight hoarseness in his voice.

For a brief moment, Eugene forgot how to breathe.

Luo Hai’s face was close—so close that Eugene could feel his breath against his skin, their noses barely an inch apart.

A scent drifted between them, mingling with the lingering aroma of alcohol. He wasn’t sure whose pheromones had leaked out first.

Eugene swallowed hard.

“The collarbone,” he said quietly.

Eugene was wearing a casual button-up that night. Not only was the top button undone, but the next two were as well, revealing the elegant curve of his collarbone as it rose and fell with his breath.

Luo Hai didn’t respond. He simply tilted his glass, letting the liquid trickle down in a slow stream, pooling right where Eugene had specified.

The clear liquid was cool against his skin—but it warmed quickly.

Eugene’s breathing grew heavier, every nerve in his body sharpening with awareness.

He felt it—the heat of Luo Hai’s breath, the brush of his bangs against his face, and then—the soft, scalding touch of lips and tongue.

It felt like an eternity, yet also like the briefest flicker of a moment. When Luo Hai lifted his head again, there was still a trace of liquor glistening on his lips.

His tongue flicked out absentmindedly to lick it away. Then, as if nothing had happened, he sat up, his usual cold and distant expression returning—though the flush on his cheeks made it far less convincing.

Eugene was painfully hard.

“That good enough for you?” Luo Hai set the glass back on the table, his tone indifferent. “It’s my turn now.”

“Alright.” Eugene had to clear his throat before he could speak normally again.

“I can’t swim, I don’t like carrots,” Luo Hai said slowly. “And I once got into a fight for you.”

Eugene listened quietly, feeling an odd itch in his chest, as if something delicate was gently stroking against it.

He knew Luo Hai didn’t like carrots. Not only had he hated them as a child, but even now, he meticulously picked out every last diced carrot from his fried rice and tossed them into the trash.

He wasn’t sure whether Luo Hai could swim. The orphanage they grew up in had no swimming facilities, but maybe he had learned later.

That left one obviously impossible answer.

Eugene hesitated for only a second before choosing the least likely one. “The third one.”

Leaning back against the headboard, Luo Hai smiled faintly. “Wrong.”

Eugene was stunned. “Wait—you got into a fight for me? When? Where?”

“No follow-up questions,” Luo Hai said simply. “Drink.”

Eugene had no choice but to lift his glass, feeling like he’d just walked straight into his own trap.

This punishment had an amplified effect on him. He could only take a deep breath and, at the slowest possible pace, turn over and straddle Luo Hai. “Where do you want it poured?”

Luo Hai narrowed his eyes, his expression sluggish, as if he were slightly intoxicated. But Eugene knew perfectly well that his alcohol tolerance wasn’t that low.

“Chest,” Luo Hai said in a low voice.

Eugene fixed his gaze on Luo Hai, who tilted his chin slightly and unfastened his shirt buttons one by one with his slender fingers. In the end, only the last two buttons remained loosely fastened, exposing a firm, smooth chest.

On that pale skin, faint traces of red could still be seen.

They were bite marks—marks Eugene had left the last time they were intimate. Even now, they remained faintly visible.

Eugene’s throat tightened, his mouth dry and parched, desperate for something to soothe it.

He slowly tilted the glass, letting the clear liquid trickle onto Luo Hai’s chest. Whether due to unsteady hands or some other reason, a single drop escaped, slipping downward into an unseen place.

Eugene took a deep breath, restraining the urge to chase after that drop. He lowered his head, his tongue curling.

The sharp burn of alcohol slid down his throat, spreading heat deep into his stomach. Luo Hai let out a soft but unmistakable sound.

It took Eugene considerable effort to straighten up again, his chest rising and falling, his breath slightly uneven.

“Want to keep going?” Luo Hai slowly raised an eyebrow.

Eugene immediately felt provoked. He grabbed the bottle and refilled the glass. “Of course.”

“Then it’s your turn,” Luo Hai said with a light chuckle.

Even if all the languages in the world added a thousand, ten thousand more words, they still wouldn’t be enough to describe how much Eugene liked seeing Luo Hai smile.

“Alright.” Eugene’s gaze locked onto Luo Hai’s, his voice low. “One, when I was a kid, I actually stole something from you.”

Luo Hai frowned slightly.

“Two, the first time I saw you, I wanted to kiss you.” Eugene’s voice grew softer, nearly a whisper. “Three, I’ve never lied to you.”

This was practically a giveaway question.

Without hesitation, Luo Hai chose: “The third one.”

Eugene smiled. “Wrong.”

Luo Hai’s expression immediately turned cold. “Are you seriously trying to tell me you’ve never lied to me? What a blatant lie.”

“It’s the truth.” Eugene’s smile faded. “I may have kept things from you, but in all these years, I have never once told you a lie. That’s real.”

Luo Hai stared straight into Eugene’s eyes. The latter didn’t look away, meeting his gaze directly.

In Eugene’s light-colored irises, Luo Hai saw no trace of deceit or pretense. Those beautiful eyes held nothing but his reflection, open and sincere.

It might just be a trick. After all, Eugene Oddis was known as the most cunning criminal—no one was better at using words to manipulate others.

He shouldn’t drink. Drinking meant believing Eugene’s words.

But somehow, he still picked up the glass.

“Neck,” Eugene said, lips curling.

By this point, neither of them had won a single round. They kept drinking, yet neither wanted to stop the game.

Luo Hai slowly tipped the glass, letting the liquid drip onto Eugene’s neck.

But the curve of the throat couldn’t hold the liquid—the alcohol slid down, tracing the prominent ridge of Eugene’s Adam’s apple before continuing downward.

Before it could soak into the sheets, Luo Hai lowered his head, lips and tongue catching it.

Luo Hai could feel Eugene’s breathing grow heavier, his Adam’s apple bobbing instinctively. This slight motion made Luo Hai’s task more difficult, so he simply pressed closer, their chests nearly flush against each other.

The scent of their pheromones had grown almost overwhelming, but the alcohol dulled the pain, leaving behind only pleasure and hunger.

If Luo Hai were still a complete Omega, their pheromones would be perfectly compatible. His glands would be preparing for Eugene’s mark.

But he wasn’t. And he never could be again.

He had lost the right to belong to anyone, yet he also lacked the freedom to control himself.

He was just a monster.

A monster who was neither Omega nor Alpha, trapped between both.

Two seconds later, Luo Hai lifted his head from Eugene’s chest.

Eugene caught him, steadying him. Both of their breathing was uneven, their cheeks flushed—but whether from alcohol or something else, neither could say.

“Still want to continue?” Eugene asked softly.

The prosecutor in his arms, for some reason, was still stubborn. His hand remained braced against Eugene’s waist, his lips damp but unwilling to yield.

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” Eugene let out a small laugh. “Your turn.”

“For fifteen years, I’ve dreamt of you almost every week,” Luo Hai said in a low voice. “I regret not shooting you that day.”

“And the third one?” Eugene pressed hoarsely.

Luo Hai stared straight at him, unwavering. “I’ve always liked you.”

Eugene felt as if something was stuck in his throat, pressing down on his vocal cords, making it difficult to speak.

It was like a thousand needles piercing every inch of his skin.

Each answer sounded like a lie, yet if any one of them was true, his heart would pound so hard it might explode.

He wanted to confirm it, but suddenly, he lost the courage.

He could sit with one leg crossed in a room full of cops, set up a trap without breaking a sweat, or blow up an entire building with a casual smile.

But here, he was afraid. Afraid of hearing the answer. Afraid that the truth would rip him apart from the inside out.

Finally, Eugene spoke, his voice hoarse and hesitant. “The first one.”

“Wrong,” Luo Hai said flatly, straightening up from Eugene’s chest. “That one was true.”

Eugene froze.

If that was the truth, then which one was the lie? And which one was real?

He wanted to keep asking, but Luo Hai had already grasped his wrist, whispering softly, “Lips.”

Then he lowered his head, touching his lips to the rim of Eugene’s glass, taking in a mouthful of liquor before lifting his gaze to meet Eugene’s.