Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 353: ’Say No To This’

Recommended Listening: "PLAY WITH ME BY RENDEZVOUS AT TWO"

Florian should say no.

Right?

He was supposed to say no.

He wanted to say no.

’Say no, say no. No. No. I don’t want it.’ But no matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn’t come.

Heinz’s breath ghosted against the curve of Florian’s neck, slow and warm, sending a tremble down his spine. His lips barely brushed the skin there—soft, deliberate.

The teasing touch on Florian’s inner thigh hadn’t stopped either, the motion unhurried, maddeningly light. His cock throbbed, stubborn and hard, betraying everything Florian thought he believed.

At this point, Florian didn’t even know who he was anymore—himself, or the original Florian who belonged to this body.

Either way, he was desperate. Tense. Too pent-up for his own good.

His body wasn’t cooperating.

His thoughts weren’t aligning.

Nothing was going the way it should.

It didn’t help that now he knew what had happened that night wasn’t a dream. That Heinz had touched him. That Heinz’s fingers had been inside him.

That it wasn’t a fantasy crafted by the original Florian’s warped mind, but a hazy, drugged reality twisted by the effects of an aphrodisiac.

They’d already crossed that line. And even knowing that—especially knowing that—he still couldn’t say no.

’Come on. Say no.’ He forced his mouth open. He willed the word to come out.

But as Heinz finally pressed his lips fully to his neck, Florian couldn’t stop the sound that escaped him—a sharp, breathy moan.

"A-Ah... Your Majesty..." he managed, barely above a whisper, his voice trembling like the rest of him.

Heinz let out a deep chuckle, dark and low, the sound vibrating against Florian’s skin."I’m getting very impatient, Florian," he said, voice thick with hunger, greedy and raw. The same tone Florian remembered from that terrifying, dizzying vision.

Florian’s head felt like it was spinning. Whether it was the heat of the moment or the lingering scent of wine clinging to Heinz’s breath, he didn’t know. He just knew he felt drunk—but not on alcohol.

"I need a yes or a no, Florian," Heinz murmured, almost purring now. His long black hair draped over Florian’s shoulder, brushing against his bare skin like silk. Another kiss was placed—firm, possessive—on the same sensitive spot of his neck.

’I thought he needed a yes or a no first.’

But Heinz wasn’t exactly waiting. He was still kissing him. Still touching him. Still whispering into his skin like Florian had already said yes.

"Come on, Ilúvarei," Heinz whispered again.

Florian’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened.

’Ilúvarei?’

The word echoed in his head, striking something deep, something old.

It was familiar—but not in the way most words were. It stirred something that felt ancestral, sacred. He remembered Heinz mentioning the ancient Concordian language before... Was that what this was?

’What does it mean?’ he wanted to ask. But he couldn’t speak.

Because Heinz’s eyes—those deep, blood-red eyes—met his. And suddenly, something in Florian shifted. It was like his body moved before his mind caught up.

His head nodded. Slowly. Weakly. As if enchanted.

"...O-Okay..." he breathed, the word so quiet it was almost lost to the space between them.

Heinz stilled for a moment—and then his smile turned feral. Hungry. He looked like he was about to devour him.

And in that moment, Florian regretted everything.

Florian’s breath hitched the moment Heinz’s hand wrapped around his cock—hot, firm, and undeniably skilled. The sudden contact sent a jolt of electricity straight up his spine, so intense it almost hurt.

A sharp, involuntary moan slipped from his lips before he could bite it back, his head falling helplessly against the plush pillows beneath him. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.

’Fuck.’

His mind screamed at him—louder than ever—to pull away. To shove Heinz off him. To kick and scream.

’This wasn’t supposed to happen. I shouldn’t have said yes.’

But his body?

His body betrayed him completely.

It trembled, flushed, responded—yearned.

Heinz’s crimson eyes were glowing with dangerous hunger, sharp and unrelenting. His hand moved in slow, agonizing strokes, firm yet maddeningly teasing, coaxing more reactions from Florian’s traitorous body. "A-Agh..."

"Such a pretty sound," Heinz murmured, voice dipping into that husky, velvet tone that vibrated against Florian’s skin like silk drawn over flame. "You’re holding back, Ilúvarei. Don’t."

Florian’s fingers curled into the sheets, fists tightening until his knuckles turned white. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to tether himself to something—anything—before he drowned in this.

’Ilúvarei. Again... that word.’

It rang in his mind like a whisper laced with magic—familiar, distant, aching. He knew it. Somehow. But he couldn’t focus. Not with Heinz’s mouth on his neck again, teeth grazing the tender skin just beneath his ear.

Florian gasped—body twitching in a knee-jerk reaction as his hips bucked into Heinz’s palm.’Stop, stop it. Why am I—Why am I reacting like this?!’

"Your Majesty..." he managed to choke out, the words ragged and soaked in guilt. "I—I can’t..."

"You can," Heinz interrupted smoothly, lips brushing his ear, breath hot and intoxicating. His free hand ghosted up Florian’s thigh before gripping it possessively, fingers sinking into soft flesh as if claiming him. "And you will."

Then Heinz moved.

His hand left Florian’s cock—and in that brief second of absence, a pathetic pang of loss struck him, uninvited and shameful.

But before he could even understand that reaction, everything was eclipsed.

Heinz’s mouth descended on him, engulfing him in a wet, searing heat that made Florian’s entire body seize.

"A-Ah—oh my god—"

The words came out broken, shattered, as his back arched off the bed. The sensation was too much. The suction, the pressure, the way Heinz’s tongue swirled around the head—it was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Overwhelming. Consuming.

He was straight.

He was straight.

He wasn’t supposed to want this.

But his body betrayed him yet again, hips jerking up instinctively for more, more, more.

’How the fuck does Heinz even know how to do this?!’

Florian’s breath came in ragged bursts, his lungs barely catching up with the sharp spikes of pleasure wracking through him. Heinz’s hands rose to clamp firmly around his hips, keeping him pinned, grounding him while simultaneously driving him mad.

His mind was crumbling. Thought by thought. All logic dissolving in the furnace of sensation.

’This feels too good. Too fucking good. I should hate this.’

But he didn’t. Not completely. And that terrified him.

"Heinz... please—" he whimpered, unsure if it was a plea to stop or to keep going.

Heinz didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t.

If anything, he grew bolder—his tongue tracing maddening circles, the rhythm of his bobbing head precise, merciless. He knew what he was doing. Florian’s thighs trembled violently, his hands flying to Heinz’s head, fingers tangling in the dark silk of his hair.

He wasn’t sure whether he meant to pull him away or hold him closer. The line had blurred.

"Your Majesty, I—I’m going to—" he gasped, voice cracking under the weight of pleasure and panic. Heinz didn’t let up. He only gripped tighter and swallowed him deeper.

Florian’s body bowed, his mind screaming as he climaxed, release tearing through him like lightning. He cried out, raw and hoarse, hips jerking as he came into Heinz’s waiting mouth.

And Heinz didn’t pull away.

He stayed. Swallowed. Drank every last drop, lips still wrapped around him like he was savoring something divine.

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Florian collapsed. Limbs heavy. Chest rising and falling rapidly, heart pounding like it wanted to escape his ribcage. Every muscle in his body trembled in the aftermath.

Guilt pressed against his chest, sharp and suffocating.

Heinz finally pulled back, licking his lips with a slow, satisfied motion. He looked up at Florian—cheeks flushed, lips glistening, eyes glowing with victory.

"See?" Heinz whispered, voice rich with smug delight. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Florian opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His throat was dry. His head still spinning.

’What did I just let happen?’

But it wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Heinz shifted—still kneeling between his legs—and began unbuttoning his trousers, the sound loud in the quiet, charged air between them.

"It’s my turn," he said simply.

Florian’s eyes widened. His breath hitched again.

’Wait, what?’

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