Translated by boilpoil Edited by boilpoil
ā€œYou donā€™t have to come.ā€
Hopkin looks at him in shock, Bright smiles and says, ā€œat first I thought it was your normal personality to treat people with cordiality in a distance. But now that we know each other for so long, Iā€™ve come to know that your emotions towards me are unusual. Youā€™re more serious and more conflicted than all the other people. That is why youā€™re cold, passionate, or even lost sometimes. I know Iā€™m only a virtual person, and this world is your game. The people who enter are all arrogant and rude, prideful and self-aggrandising, and itā€™s too easy to get information from them. Theyā€™re materialistic, and want to both get close to me, but still look down on me, as if they are Gods who are in control of me. Only you are different, Hopkin. Only you are different.ā€
ā€œYou have colourful emotions, towards me, or rather, to the person you projected onto me. To be honest, Iā€™m not angry because of that. Of course, I might be disappointed, since nobody wants to be seen as anybody else. Yet you are in pain, and I care about you, so I hope youā€™re happierā€¦ If coming here to see me, being with me is hurting you so badly, then, I would rather you stop.ā€
Hopkin runs away cowardly. He does not dare to interact with such a Bright. The Bright that would push him away, whether real or in-game, they all easily break through his defences and make him painful.
Bright is both his addiction and his antidote.
He cannot stop it. It is a deep desire from within his soul. It has already become a part of him. How will he ever be able to cure this addiction?
Hopkin feels ridiculous, and outraged. Itā€™s just a string of data, but it dares to tell him ā€œdonā€™t have to comeā€ and ā€œstop,ā€ but because Bright has changed him, he does not report this to the GM to check, clean up and format the unusual data, instead he chooses to ignore it.
Bright discovers that what he has done seem to have made it worse. Seeing his lover growing worse and worse by the day emotionally, Bright is worried, ā€œtell me, about him.ā€
Hopkin sits on the sofa, looking at his cup in his hand. He dodges the manā€™s gaze.
Slowly, he opens his mouth, but not to describe his story with Bright. It is too painful, just recalling it is so traumatic that his fingers would curl inward, and to describe it in front of the man? He can only say the facts in a simple, objective way, ā€œI was his mortal enemy. I have harmed him. I have been as prideful and arrogant as those that you hate. Thenā€¦ he left.ā€
He concludes, ā€œhe hates me.ā€ His voice is so quiet, like the laments of the wind.
Bright starts thinking, and asks carefully, ā€œhave you ever done it with him?ā€
Hopkinā€™s body stiffens. He does not react otherwise.
ā€œWhen he is conscious?ā€
Hopkin nods lightly. He is starting to feel displeased, looking at this clone with anxiety and nervousness of self-protection. Why is he trying to get to the bottom of this?
Bright kneels, meeting those black pair of eyes in a harmless manner, and says in a serious tone, ā€œif I really were created with him as a template, and am 80, or 90% similar to him, then he must have already been infatuated with you.ā€
ā€œImpossible.ā€ Hopkin retorts out of reflex.
ā€œIf he hates you he will only beat you up or kill you. This is his basic respect for his mortal enemy, for a human. It is his baseline. He will never do anything like this with you to degrade you, or for any other purpose. He does not say it because nobody will understand him. But I know, because I am him. Sex is a very wonderful thing for him ā€“ it is the conjoinment of soul and flesh. It is something that can only be done to a lover.ā€
ā€œNo. I forced him to do so.ā€ That is why he hates me so.
Bright feels both pitiful and painful seeing the aristocrat being stubborn, ā€œyou underestimate your own appeal too muchā€¦ā€ he breathes deeply, ā€œsince the first time Iā€™ve seen you, I couldnā€™t help but think, how could this person look so attractive.ā€
Hopkin is already suspecting thereā€™s something wrong with the data. How could he be saying something that is so unbefitting of the man.
ā€œIā€™m sure, as long as your personality isnā€™t that twisted, many people will fall in love with you.ā€
His suspicion is confirmed. The clone is broken.
ā€œThatā€™s enough. Do you really understand me?ā€ Bright approaches Hopkin, kissing him on the cheeks, whispering by his ears, ā€œevery time I approach you like this, I want to ferociously take you for myself. To make you become mine, to make you cry, make you smile for me, in every possible way I know. Sadly, thereā€™s already someone in your heart. I want you to only be able to see me, Hopkin, only me. The Bright you know, and have treated well, not the one that has run away.ā€
ā€œI donā€™t want you to become addicted in this game world, because Iā€™m worried about you, concerned about you. I want you to feel less painful. Please donā€™t treat this as a rejection. Treat this as a blessing.ā€
Something flashes through his mind, and Hopkin widens his eyes suddenly. He catches Bright by the collar, and lunges onto him from the sofa. He suppresses the man temporarily with all his strength.
ā€œYouā€™re not data! You canā€™t be data! Who are you?!ā€ He is almost roaring by the end.
Shock and exasperation is bubbling onto his black pair of eyes. The face of the beautiful aristocrat is both whitening and blackening at the same time. His emotions are intensifying, as if he is watching the apocalypse when the sun collapses and the stars dim, as if he is a lost lamb who has finally found a speck of light after wandering in the darkness for a long, long time.
The man shows an expression of slight frustration with an ā€˜I got bustedā€™ feel after briefly blanking out. After leaving the City, he has always kept an eye on it. Know your enemies and know yourself to win in a hundred out of a hundred battles, you know. He got a backdoor from someone in the City, so he can sneak into it via the game and collect and gather information.
ā€œYouā€¦ā€ The aristocratā€™s lips are trembling. His brain is a mess, countless bees buzzing within.
ā€œHow did I expose myself?ā€
ā€œYou just said ā€˜run away,ā€™ but Bright is said to be dead in official records. Not even the game designer know about it.ā€
The aristocratā€™s hands are also trembling, and so is his body, which is shaking uncontrollably.
ā€œSpeak! Who are you!ā€
ā€œYou already have an answer, donā€™t you?ā€ The man asks calmly. He is looking at the aristocrat in the eye. He does not resist the aristocrat clinging onto and suppressing him, kissing him as if in fever.
Bright is also conflicted. He is acting as a replacement for himself when sneaking into the City. He both hopes Hopkin can restrain himself from venting out his sexual desires on him, and hopes that he can make him happier, create some happy memories for him.
Hopkin is going insane. The accidental reunion is as destructive to his rationale as a tsunami. None of his reencounters in his dreams are as impactful as this real scenario. It is more fascinating than he can ever imagine. He hates, he loves, he is sad, he is happy. No matter what, he still wants to join together with the man, and never separate again.
And the man, as if he is not satisfied before driving him completely mad, is confessing to him in such an earnest manner.
ā€œBefore I left Iā€™ve never had the chance to say to you. I hate you, but I also love you.ā€
Hopkin is making a muffled sound as if he is a beast. It is like a suppressed whimper, but also like a surprised scream. He is riding on the man, opening up his body actively. Every cell of his body, every nerve, is screaming for him to enter himself quickly.
ā€œNever leave me againā€¦ā€
Or Iā€™ll kill you!
He throws away all his pride and rationale, he is biting Bright like a wild beast. The latter undresses him quickly, holding onto his unruly waist, and starts preparing him carefully.
ā€œShit! Stop torturing meā€¦ come inā€¦ā€ The aristocrat starts to wail.
ā€œWe have time. Donā€™t hurry.ā€
ā€œUuuā€¦ā€
Man often think that none of their assets are big enough, like their sausage, their chest, their assā€¦
Someone is realising profoundly right now, that bigger does not necessarily mean better.
Bright has to spend a long time in foreplay to prepare Hopkin well with his fingers. As the game is highly realistic, if he is not careful, he will still cause a great pain resulting from tearing. And the aristocrat has already descended into madness, like a smoker who has suddenly encountered a cigarette on the road when he hasnā€™t had one for a long, long time. His whole body is shaking. He has even come once already. Bright had to do something to stop him from blowing up, so that they can last longer. After all, his body in the game can almost rival that of superheroes in movies.
He can even use that classic quote from Captain America, ā€œI can do this all day.ā€
Hopkinā€™s consciousness is as if floating in the clouds, floating to the east, to the west, completely out of control. His chest is greatly expanding and compressing. His breathing is haggard. He is like an animal that has been cut off from air, and can only acquire his necessary oxygen from Brightā€™s mouth. His body, his mind and even his soul are no longer in his possession because of his extreme pleasure.
Bright sure lives up to the nickname of the perfect sex-machine. Continuous, changing between deep and shallow thrusts, quick and slow insertions, and he can even stimulate Hopkinā€™s G-spots with a consistent and voluptuous ejection of matter.
As it is determined he is dangerously excited, the aristocrat was forcefully ejected from the game.
Authorā€™s notes: Happy Chinese New Year!(^ļ¼µ^)惎~ļ¼¹ļ¼Æ
I hope everyone stays healthy and happy~
Read only at Travis Translations