Obsessed with a High-Ranking Esper (BL)-Chapter 237: NSFW

Jian Ci shuffled forward, his face unusually serious. "I mean it. Look—I dated her for a while, and I never felt anything toward her."

Jian Wei snorted, waving his hand dismissively. "That doesn’t mean you have performance issues. Don’t focus on the rumors."

Jian Rui burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls.

"You are laughing, but I am serious," Jian Ci insisted, his brows furrowed.

"Well," Jian Rui said between chuckles, "have you tried watching some spicy content? If it gets up, then what are you worried about?"

Jian Ci bit his lip, his ears turning red, while Jian Wei joined in Jian Rui’s laughter.

"You two aren’t taking this seriously," Jian Ci said, his voice rising in frustration. "For the happiness of my future wife, you should examine me." Jian Wei leaned back, grinning. "You are worrying over nothing. If it bothers you so much, why not get some advice from Yu Xi?" His tone was teasing, deliberately provocative.

Jian Rui smirked, chiming in. "Yeah, he has a lot of experience. He can offer you some advice."

Jian Ci’s face twisted in annoyance. "You aren’t helpful at all." He pushed himself up from his seat, clearly done with the conversation.

Jian Rui and Jian Wei laughed even louder, genuinely enjoying themselves as they screwed with their little brother.

"Where are you going?" Jian Rui called after him. "Oh, come on, we were just messing with you!"

Jian Ci raised his middle finger without looking back and walked away, his steps heavy with irritation.

By the time he reached his room, his annoyance had settled into a quiet sulk.

He had expected Yu Xi to be back by the time he was finished, but when he stepped out, towel draped over his shoulders, the room was still empty.

He dressed for bed, pulling on a loose shirt before slipping beneath the covers. The sheets were cool against his skin, but they did little to ease the unease gnawing at him. He reached for his communicator, the screen lighting up with Yu Xi’s name.

His thumb hovered over the chat interface. He thought of typing something simple like—Are you coming back soon?—but hesitated. He didn’t want to sound needy, didn’t want to disturb him if Yu Xi was busy.

The seconds stretched, his chest tightening with indecision.

Finally, Jian Ci sighed, swiping the interface closed. The screen went dark, leaving him alone with the quiet hum of the room.

He lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly he thought of Jian Rui’s suggestion to try watch spicy content. This whole impotent thing was bothering him enough that he wanted to disprove it.

He wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t so he swiped the floating screen and did something he had never done before.

His hand, slick with a nervous sweat he refused to acknowledge, swiped through the air. The floating interface glowed to life, casting a pale blue light across his tense face. He had heard other Espers brag about the contents they watched but he had never searched for it himself. His throat tightened thinking about what he was about to watch. He bit his lower lip, the sharp sting of teeth on flesh a welcome distraction, and typed the search.

It didn’t take long. A whole ecosystem of recommendations bloomed before him, curated, ranked, and tagged. The word overwhelming didn’t begin to cover it. Thumbnails flashed with entangled limbs, exaggerated expressions, blatant and unsubtle invitations. His stomach twisted. "Just pick one. The most watched...That’s a safe bet, right?" he said as he tapped the top result.

He was sadly mistake. The scene exploded into life and sound, a riot of psychic energy and physical excess. Four, maybe five espers were arranged around a single, overwhelmed guide, hands and glowing auras everywhere, a messy, grunting tangle of bodies. It was aggressive, clinical and unsettling.

Jian Ci swore, a harsh, guttural sound, and slapped the interface closed. The silence rushed back in, somehow louder than before.

"Fuck!"

He needed to refine this. He filtered, searching for keywords: romantic, softcore, beginner. The algorithm offered a new selection. This one looked... calmer. The setting was a sun-dappled bedroom, all soft fabrics and gentle lighting. A female guide, her body sheathed in a gauzy, see-through chiffon dress that did nothing to hide the curves beneath, moved towards a male esper reclining on a bed. Her walk was a slow, practiced sway of hips.

The scene unfolded with a predictable, gentle rhythm. Soft kisses. Caressing hands. The chiffon slid away. Her moans began, high and breathy, filling his ears through the earbuds. Jian Ci watched, his body rigid. He tracked every movement; the slide of her hand down the esper’s stomach, the way her back arched as he touched her. He listened to every sigh, every gasped encouragement.

But Nothing.

There was not a twitch, not even a stir. It was as if the connection between his eyes and his dick had been severed. The signals were being sent—look, she’s beautiful, listen, she’s enjoying it—but they landed in a void. A cold, numb void where his arousal should have been.

Panic, sharp and acidic, began to prickle at the base of his skull. "Maybe it’s not spicy enough. That’s all. It’s too soft," he thought. He searched again, his fingers jabbing at the interface. Hardcore. Explicit. No filters.

The new video was a brutal contrast. It was all sharp angles, pounding rhythm, and loud, raw sounds. The guide was bent over, taking the esper from behind, her cries punctuating each thrust. The camera focused on the joining of their bodies, the slick, frantic fuck.

Jian Ci’s gaze didn’t waver. He forced himself to watch, to absorb every vulgar, nasty detail; the slap of skin, the sheen of sweat, the desperate, open-mouthed groans.

"Fuck me. Yeah, fuck me just like that ah!"

"Take that dick baby... You like that, don’t you?

The dialogue was filthy. The acts were explicit. His mind understood the mechanics, the purported pleasure.

His body however remained utterly, insultingly indifferent. His dick lay soft and unresponsive against his thigh, a traitorous piece of dead weight.

"Fuck!" he snarled aloud, the word tearing from his throat. He was sweating now, a cold, clammy film covering his skin.