The taste of victory was celebratory beer, loud music, and sweaty hugs.
Eric Dane's villa had been transformed into the Lions' sacred ground for revelry. The team members, like a pack of beasts just released from their cages, had claimed the living room as their territory. The deafening music made the floorboards hum, and champagne corks shot toward the ceiling like cannonballs, leaving behind glorious marks.
"To our hero!" the players—faces flushed, beer cups held high—yelled at Eric.
"And to our new hero!" another player slung his arm around Shawn's shoulders, shaking him forcefully. "Shawn! If you hadn't joined us, we don't know what we would've done!"
Shawn gave an awkward smile, trying to slip out from under the arm that felt like an iron clamp. He wasn't used to being the center of attention, especially in such a boisterous setting. He just wanted to find a corner and quietly drink his Coke.
However, in the atmosphere of victory, no one could remain aloof.
"Hey, Shawn! Don't drink that stuff, come on, try this!" a teammate handed him a glass of a strangely colored, bubbling liquid.
"I... I don't really drink," Shawn tried to refuse.
"You can't drink after winning the championship? Who are you looking down on!" the teammate jeered.
Eric saw this from the other side of the crowd. He frowned and was about to walk over to intervene, but he was pulled back by several excited teammates and forced to chug a large mouthful of beer.
And so, half-willingly and half-coerced, Shawn, who couldn't hold his liquor, drank the first glass, then the second, then the third...
The alcohol was like a key, unlocking a strange switch in his brain. The nerve in his head labeled "social anxiety" was completely anesthetized.
He started making a fool of himself.
First, he grabbed the coach and tried to lift his toupee, only to stumble and take a hard fall himself.
Then, he jumped onto the sofa, picked up an empty beer bottle as a microphone, and began to recite a summary of the An Introduction to Sociological Theory textbook with great passion and emotion. The solemn tone and absurd content made everyone double over with laughter.
Finally, he hugged Eric's priceless Bengal cat and tried to teach it how to perform a perfect tackle, only to get his face scratched full of red marks.
Eric leaned against the bar, watching the Shawn who was jumping around in the crowd, a completely different person from his usual self. The corners of his mouth couldn't help but lift slightly.
The revelry continued late into the night. When the music finally stopped and the villa was in a state of chaos, Eric finally found the culprit.
Shawn was passed out drunk on the stairs leading to the second floor, sleeping soundly, the heroic scars left by the Persian cat still on his face.
Eric sighed, walked over, and carefully helped him up. Shawn's body was limp, as if boneless. He leaned his entire weight into Eric's arms, his head unconsciously nuzzling against Eric's chest to find a comfortable position.
Eric's body stiffened for a moment. He looked down and could smell the faint scent of shampoo in Shawn's hair, mixed with a hint of malt from the beer. He felt his own heartbeat, seemingly a little faster than usual.
He helped Shawn into a guest room on the second floor, gently placed him on the bed, and even thoughtfully took off his shoes for him. The room was quiet, with only the faint chirping of insects coming from outside the window. Moonlight streamed in, illuminating Shawn's sleeping face.
Eric stood by the bed, looking at the peaceful sleeping face, and that strange, unnamable feeling surfaced in his heart again. He thought, maybe just watching like this was nice, too.
Just as he was turning to leave, a cold, otherworldly electronic voice abruptly sounded in Shawn's mind.
[Ding!] [System has detected that the key mission 'The Final Showdown' has been completed.] [Sorry, host, the signal has been bad lately, I forgot to issue your reward.] [Reward: Charm +10.]
The sudden system voice was like a needle, piercing sharply into Shawn's chaotic consciousness. His heavy eyelids fluttered, and then slowly, dazedly, his eyes opened.
The moment he opened his eyes, his gaze, still hazy with drunkenness and moisture, accidentally met Eric's, who was just about to leave.
[Gaze of the Succubus]
The skill was thus accidentally activated.
Eric felt as if his brain had been struck by lightning, instantly going blank.
With the dual enhancement of the skill and the +10 Charisma, a strange change occurred.
First, an extremely faint scent wafted from Shawn, lightly brushing past the tip of Eric's nose. It wasn't any known fragrance, yet it was more alluring than any perfume, like poppies, like honey, drilling straight into the depths of his soul.
Eric's breathing stopped. He looked at the boy on the bed with his dazed eyes, feeling all his reason and self-control crumble in that instant.
He uncontrollably bent down, slowly, slowly, approaching the face that had been troubling him all night.
Immediately after, Shawn felt his lower lip being covered by something warm and soft. It wasn't a forceful bite, just a very light, hesitant touch, like the wings of a butterfly, lightly and tentatively brushing past.
This gentle touch, however, was like the fuse that lit a powder keg.
In the next second, something soft and hot forced its way into Shawn's mouth, launching a torrential assault. It was a kiss filled with suppression, chaos, and despair, without a trace of gentleness, only the most primitive, almost gnawing possession.