MGN | Chapter 28

“Start with a kiss. If you can’t do it, quit.”

Yet Yves tilted his head and said that to Maël.

“Can I say no?”

“Of course.”

The answer came without a moment’s hesitation. Before Maël could be surprised by the firmness, Yves touched the champagne glass again.

“I helped your sister, not you.”

It meant Maël didn’t need to offer himself. Even if he didn’t ask Manon to pretend to be gay, Yves would somehow extract the price of this huge debt from her.

The possibility of rejection offered by Yves Valois. That made Maël decide quickly.

Unable to answer sanely, he reached for the champagne bottle, and Yves filled Maël’s glass, almost provocatively, until it overflowed.

“In fact, if you refuse, I’d admire you.”

Admire? Maël pretended not to hear that nonsense and grabbed the wet stem. He drank to get a bit drunk and stood up.

Yves was right in front of him.

The man only lifted his gaze to look at Maël, as if he had expected everything. Maël, with hands trembling from anger and humiliation, grabbed Yves’s cheek. Maël’s reflection was in those inorganic eyes.

“But you always act like yourself.”

Stupid, dull, and foolish. That slow remark seemed to say just that. Maël lowered his head, and Yves’s lips touched his, wet with golden liquor.

‘Ah…’

It felt like kissing a cold plaster statue, sending a chill through his body. What Maël felt in his first kiss with Yves was a sense of falling.

The lips parted quickly.

There was no mingling of tongues. Lips touched and then separated. When he opened his tightly shut eyes, Yves’s languid gaze was right there. Yves spoke dryly.

“I don’t know if that’ll do.”

“That’s because Yves isn’t interested in men…”

He couldn’t finish the words, mixed with half frustration and half desperation. Yves stood up. To meet his gaze, Maël had to tilt his head. He turned his stumbling body and grabbed the table.

There was nowhere to run. The table cluttered with glasses and bottles blocked him. Yves lowered his eyes in front of Maël and slowly removed the glove from one hand, tossing it to the floor.

Just like Maël had done when he saw Yves’s gloves earlier that day.

It felt like the oxygen around them disappeared. Yves placed his pale hand beside the table Maël was leaning on. His tilted body was close.

“Try again.”

Unlike the previous kiss. That was the cold command implied. Maël bit his lip and reached behind Yves’s neck. Goosebumps rose on the suit collar and cold skin. He pulled Yves closer, and Yves allowed himself to be drawn in.

Once more, cold lips.

Maël’s lips trembled with emotions he couldn’t identify, whether anger or humiliation.

That was really as far as it went.

Maël’s tolerance wasn’t great, but three glasses of champagne weren’t enough to get him drunk. It wasn’t his first kiss. But kissing someone unexpected and unwanted left him unable to think of what to do next.

What if Yves withdrew his support, thinking he was still unsuitable? What if the man decided to find another way?

The time spent hesitating with parted lips grew too long. Just as Maël resolved to do something, Yves pulled back with a sneer.

“It can’t be your first.”

He asked, lifting his long, dark lashes. Before Maël could respond, Yves bluntly commented.

“There’s a reason that blonde was frustrated.”

Bastard. The insult made Maël’s face flush with heat. As he glared, wanting to strangle him, Yves’s gray eyes flickered. He turned his head again, trapping Maël with arms on either side and kissed him again.

“Ah, huh.”

He bit open Maël’s stiff lower lip with anger. His long tongue invaded, swirling inside.

Yves, close and cold, was like a strong wind. He came endlessly, leaving Maël unable to hold himself. He pressed and tangled with Maël’s tongue, sucking in a vulgar manner, biting the lower lip until it hurt.

“Hoo.”

Breath burst out.

Yves surged in without hesitation. As if everything was natural. There was no gentleness or affection in it. The situation was disgusting. Yet the merciless stimulation was terrifyingly intense.

Maël couldn’t keep his balance because of Yves’s onslaught. Leaning on the table, Maël found himself sitting on it, barely able to receive Yves’s lips.

His fingertips and head were hot. He hated the feeling of physiological excitement. Yves’s weight pressing him down made him feel like he’d fall backward. While Yves bit and sucked Maël’s lips, Maël’s hand fumbled on the table.

Thunk.

His hand hit something.

A champagne bottle rolled with a dull sound and fell. Only after Yves’s glove and the carpet were soaked in champagne did their lips part. Maël gasped for the breath he lacked, and Yves slowly opened his eyes.

“Seems like it’ll work.”

Yves murmured as if intrigued. Then he instructed Maël, who was gritting his teeth.

“Go to the bed.”

“Are you really… serious?”

“Do you prefer it here? I can accommodate the location.”

Yves said, running a hand through his dark hair.

If he had to choose, the bed was better than the table cluttered with glasses and bottles. But…

“Yves, are you really going to do it with me?”

“If you don’t want to, you can leave anytime.”

Words that seemed to offer a choice. But Yves’s voice carried a faint emotion. Maël understood the meaning of Yves’s “seems like it’ll work.”

He was aroused. Maël too. Like Yves. Because of this ridiculous kiss.

‘Crazy bastard.’

He didn’t know who the curse was aimed at. His mind and mood were a mess. Concepts like justice, fairness, and contracts that he studied to death in Paris classrooms were powerless in this situation, melting into a mush.

The lingering sensation of Yves’s cold, wet lips on his. The texture of the air was sticky, and Maël couldn’t stop this. He got off the table and headed to the bed first.

Click.

Maël turned off all the lights in the room. But dawn was early. The pale blue from the open balcony curtains flowed in like waves. As if submerged in blue water.

‘No point in turning off the lights.’

Maël draped his jacket over the armrest of a nearby chair. He unbuttoned his shirt one by one, placing cufflinks, tie, socks, and belt on the nightstand when he heard Yves’s footsteps.

Yves, having tossed his suit jacket, sat on the bed. His gaze, as he loosened his tie, was blatant.

Meanwhile, Maël didn’t know whether to keep his unbuttoned shirt on or take it off. He wasn’t sure if he should remove his pants either.

But that wasn’t important. After stopping all movements, Maël knelt under Yves. Trying to recall his already crumpled pride would only leave him with self-loathing. Maël swallowed a long breath with humiliation.

The man, painted in the soft blue of dawn, silently watched the kneeling Maël. Even at such a time, Yves barely showed his hand, and Maël spoke to him.

“I’ll… try, but if it’s something Yves finds impossible, still, promise you’ll keep helping.”

“‘Impossible.’”

Yves repeated the word softly. Maël ignored it and, with trembling hands, undid Yves’s belt.

The reason lawyers earn a lot is simple. People pay a lot for future predictions. Defending clients with answers to all the ‘likely’ branches that could come out in a trial. That’s the essence of a lawyer’s job.

This was no different.

Maël had never had penetrative sex with Charles in the conventional sense. Charles claimed it was physiologically impossible with someone who had the same thing. He insisted it might be okay if he couldn’t see, so they tried a few times with Maël on top. Eventually, he gave up, saying it was disgusting.

Yves was likely no different.

‘He said he wasn’t interested in backsides.’

But Maël was the desperate one between the two. If oral sex could be seen as some ‘effort’ to Yves, maybe…

His hand fumbled over the zipper, tense. As he clenched and unclenched his hand, trying to gather his resolve.

“Huh?”

His body was lifted. He was almost thrown onto the bed, landing on the soft pillows. The view changed so quickly he couldn’t grasp the situation. Yves filled his vision immediately.

He roughly grabbed and pulled down Maël’s pants.