Chapter 14.2

On Saturday night, Mo Zimu strolled leisurely across the yard to Norton’s office as usual.

Norton appeared melancholic, as though torn by inner conflict.

After finishing his meal, Mo Zimu said, “Let’s wrap up the list.”

Norton looked up. His gold-rimmed glasses reflected the crystal chandelier’s light as he asked, “Seven, do you know what the number seven means in the Bible?”

Mo Zimu smiled faintly and replied, “It represents emptiness and chaos, right? Because on every seventh day, God takes a break. That’s why there are the Seven Deadly Sins. Just like Lucifer represents pride, doesn’t Mammon represent greed?”

Norton shifted in his seat, shaking his head repeatedly. “Young man, young man, you’ve completely ignored God. Remember, you must read the Bible thoroughly. The seventh day is the holy day ordained by God, blessed because it marked the completion of all creation. Seven, in the Bible, represents completeness, wholeness… and perfection.”

Norton downed his glass of wine and added, “So, Seven, your name means… you are God’s masterpiece.”

Mo Zimu’s gaze lowered slightly at that moment. The image of the woman who lazily abandoned him flashed through his mind.

Norton’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “So today, let’s finish that masterpiece of rebirth!”

Mo Zimu’s eyes flickered with surprise. He could hardly believe what he’d just heard.

Tomorrow, he would meet Geoffrey. Was Norton really going to let this final night slip away?

“Come, young man, take off your clothes. I like watching you undress.”

Mo Zimu hesitated for a few seconds before standing up.

Acting as if nothing unusual had happened, he calmly removed his clothing piece by piece. Norton admired his naked body for a while before motioning for him to lower himself.

The sound of the tattoo machine made Mo Zimu unusually restless. The irritation almost numbed him to the pain. Norton worked meticulously, like a craftsman carefully perfecting his creation.

Using a white towel, Norton wiped away the blood droplets on Mo Zimu’s hip. Gazing at the most dramatic part of the Last Judgment tattoo, he murmured, “I’ve always believed that God’s masterpiece is also God’s will. Seven, I’m honored to complete its most exquisite part.”

Mo Zimu jumped off the table and slowly pulled on his clothes. What was Norton planning? It didn’t make sense for him to abandon such a lucrative scheme.

Mo Zimu couldn’t believe that someone as greedy as Norton would willingly give up such a tempting prize. He carefully fastened his cuffs.

So what exactly was Norton thinking?

“That’s enough for today. Come back tomorrow,” Norton said.

“Tomorrow?” Mo Zimu’s gaze flickered slightly, but he knew he needed to appear relieved. Anything else would seem suspicious.

Norton seemed satisfied as he observed Mo Zimu’s seemingly relaxed demeanor, his expression resolute. “Seven, I’m a man of my word,” he said.

A man of his word, my foot, Mo Zimu thought as he left the office. Norton had to have come up with a plan that served his own interests better.

But what kind of plan gave him the confidence to go against Geoffrey?

Lost in thought, Mo Zimu headed back toward the main cellblock. Berrick was waiting for him outside, his bulging eyes betraying a hint of dissatisfaction.

“Let’s go!” Berrick shook his baton and led Mo Zimu back toward the cells.

Upon entering, Mo Zimu instinctively moved toward C Block, but Berrick motioned in the opposite direction. “This way, kid. You’ve been reassigned.”

“Reassigned?”

“You’re moving to A Block,” Berrick said, his tone laced with insinuation. “To cell A101. Congratulations, your new roommate is your partner, Ivan.”

Mo Zimu’s face went pale. His legs felt rooted to the ground, unable to take another step.

Berrick urged him forward multiple times before Mo Zimu reluctantly followed toward A Block.

The gate slowly opened, revealing Ivan’s deep-set, seemingly cold, ever-smirking eyes. It was as if he had anticipated Mo Zimu’s arrival and had been waiting for him.

He was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of long trousers. His physique was impressive, with broad shoulders, a powerful chest, and a body sculpted with taut, defined muscles. Not an ounce of excess fat, only raw masculine strength.

Mo Zimu forced himself not to stare at the dark chest hair trailing down Ivan’s abdomen. The sight only added to his imposing presence, making him seem even more like a beast lying in wait. A suffocating pressure settled over Mo Zimu, momentarily shaking his composure. His body tensed involuntarily, as if instinctively reacting to the dominance Ivan exuded.

Ivan took a few steps forward.

Mo Zimu instinctively retreated until his back was against the bars, leaving him with no room to escape.

Ivan advanced further, closing the distance between them.

He slowly removed Mo Zimu’s glasses, studying the handsome young man before him. From his jet-black hair to his unusually smooth skin, down to his delicate collarbone and long, slender legs, everything about him stirred a deep desire within Ivan.

Though Ivan’s ultimate goal was to claim Mo Zimu, his first instinct was always to kiss him.

Pulling Mo Zimu into his arms, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against his. As always, Mo Zimu’s clenched teeth signaled his firm resistance.

Ivan didn’t mind in the slightest. Such defiance never deterred him. He lifted a hand to rub Mo Zimu’s nipples through his shirt.

He knew every sensitive spot on Mo Zimu’s body and had deliberately heightened their responsiveness over time.

Mo Zimu couldn’t suppress a trembling cry, and in that fleeting moment when his lips parted slightly, Ivan’s tongue slipped in. His kissing technique was naturally exceptional, and the faint scent of cigar smoke on his breath served as the most potent aphrodisiac.

Mo Zimu leaned weakly against the bars, passively returning Ivan’s kiss. Ivan’s hands roamed over his hips, and one deftly undid his belt, slipping beneath the waistband to explore his lower back.

His hand slid further down, grasping Mo Zimu’s bare, firm ass, squeezing it possessively. This contact only fueled his growing desire.

Mo Zimu’s labored breathing and rising body heat signaled his gradual surrender to the situation. Ivan lifted Mo Zimu effortlessly, laying him down on the bed. He unzipped his trousers, then grabbed Mo Zimu’s hand, guiding it to his hardened cock.

Mo Zimu’s face turned bright red. Despite having learned some of Ivan’s grappling techniques and performing them decently, he was completely unable to break free from his vice-like grip.

His hand brushed against Ivan’s swollen, pulsing length. Ivan pressed his hand firmly, forcing him to grasp it.

Mo Zimu squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body trembling slightly.

Ivan chuckled hoarsely, his voice low and teasing. “Seven, this is what brings you joy, what makes you lose yourself in ecstasy. That’s a fact! And no one escapes the truth.”

Mo Zimu’s voice shook with a mix of anger and resentment. “Well, thank you for that, but if I could choose, I’d rather not have it.”

Ivan clicked his tongue disapprovingly, then pinned Mo Zimu down on the bed. He particularly enjoyed seeing Mo Zimu lying against the pristine white sheets. His jet-black hair, his flushed cheeks tinged with both embarrassment and arousal, and his slightly beige-toned skin, all stood out vividly against the stark white, amplifying his unique combination of purity and seduction.

He tugged off Mo Zimu’s trousers and underwear, then knelt at the foot of the bed. Cupping Mo Zimu’s arousal in his hand, he began to suck on it slowly. His tongue swirled around the tip, delivering waves of intense stimulation that left Mo Zimu trembling uncontrollably.

“Say it, hmm? Say you’re craving me, and I’ll give it to you,” Ivan murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.

The words had barely left his mouth when Mo Zimu lifted his leg and aimed a kick at his face.

Ivan blocked it effortlessly with a laugh, using the movement to spread Mo Zimu’s legs even wider.

His tongue slid into Mo Zimu’s entrance, eliciting a near-sobbing moan from him.

Mo Zimu felt every cell in his body screaming with desire, yearning to merge with this man. The heat of his need was overwhelming, melting his resistance entirely.

As much as he hated to admit it, being with Ivan brought him unparalleled pleasure.

Though Ivan’s embrace wasn’t what he desired, it offered fleeting warmth and a sense of safety. The forceful thrusts didn’t just fill his body, they filled a part of his soul that he didn’t realize was empty.

Ivan was not the partner Mo Zimu had envisioned for himself. But he had stormed into his life like a tornado during his darkest moments. He hadn’t even managed to fully resist before Ivan became an inescapable presence, a force of nature he had no choice but to endure and accept.

Ivan had thoroughly taught Mo Zimu the meaning of being consumed by lust, where rationality was obliterated by primal instincts, leaving only the overpowering urge for union.

Mo Zimu reached out, hooking his arm around Ivan’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. Though he hadn’t explicitly invited it, his actions spoke volumes about his desires.

Ivan gave a slight, indulgent smile as he moved closer, half-holding Mo Zimu to align their bodies. With steady pressure, he pushed forward and began his rhythmic thrusts, the sounds of their bodies colliding intertwining with Mo Zimu’s muffled moans.

Mo Zimu had an exceptional voice, rich and vibrant without losing the clarity of youth. Every unconscious moan he let out signaled his complete surrender to desire, a fact Ivan relished. He often deliberately performed certain actions just to provoke those uncontrollable sounds from Mo Zimu.

If given a choice, Mo Zimu would undoubtedly never choose to lie in his bed this way.

Ivan was acutely aware of this.

But since he had no intention of giving Mo Zimu the option to choose, there was no need to waste time pondering a hypothetical “Plan B.”

Ivan was a practical man who never squandered his emotions on scenarios that didn’t exist.

When it came to love, Ivan had his own philosophy. If love was the destination, then sex was undoubtedly an enjoyable path to take. He never let the goal overshadow the pleasure of the journey, especially when the journey was nothing short of an unparalleled delight.

Ivan never worried about whether Mo Zimu would come to love him. With no other path before him but the one he had set, no matter how reluctantly or slowly he moved, Mo Zimu would inevitably reach him.

Patience was one of Ivan’s greatest virtues.

With one last, forceful thrust, Ivan brought them both to a shuddering climax. Mo Zimu closed his eyes, his breathing ragged as he lay spent. Ivan rested on top of him, his head buried in the crook of Mo Zimu’s neck, inhaling deeply the scent of his sweat, a rich, grassy aroma that Ivan found utterly intoxicating.

Mo Zimu shoved at him twice, his voice tinged with frustration. “Can you pull out and let me take a shower?”

Ivan’s broad eyelids lifted slightly, revealing a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’ll bathe you myself,” he said with a smirk.

Without waiting for a reply, Ivan scooped him up effortlessly. While he did wash Mo Zimu, he couldn’t resist pressing him against the wall midway and fucking him again, leaving Mo Zimu’s limbs weak and trembling.

By the time Mo Zimu found himself back in bed, he had no memory of how he got there.

When morning came, Ivan was already gone.

Ivan had always been a peculiar figure in Mammon. Despite being in the prison for five years, he had never participated in a single Hunter Night.

He seemed like an ordinary prison leader, tyrannical within the cellblocks but submissive to even the most low-ranking guards.

Yet, he was anything but ordinary.

He lived alone in a private cell and enjoyed certain unspoken privileges. For instance, even though it wasn’t free time, Ivan wasn’t confined to his cell.

Mo Zimu climbed out of bed, his lower back still aching. He struggled to stand upright and could barely walk. Frustrated, he slammed his hand against the bedframe and gritted his teeth. “That damned bastard!”

Despite his exhaustion, he had no choice but to get up. There were far too many pressing matters to deal with.

For instance, Hatch’s poisoning, the already-altered shipping schedules, and most crucially, the fact that although he himself might be absent, the others in Cell C-204 would still be forced to participate in tonight’s Hunter Night.

Any one of these issues could render all his efforts meaningless and crush any hope of escaping Mammon forever.