[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction Chapter 44: Teach me

"Not yet," Victor whispered. "You might fall."

Fall?

Elias’s mind stuttered. He wasn’t falling, he was trapped, pinned across Victor’s lap like so reckless thing caught mid‑flight. His breath ca sharp, chest tight, pulse hamring in his ears. He shoved against Victor’s chest, harder this ti, trying to carve out space, but those arms didn’t budge.

Victor’s strength was unnerving, too steady for soone who’d just stumbled, too solid for a man claiming weakness. It made sothing sour twist in Elias’s gut.

"You... did you lie to ?" Elias demanded, voice tight and incredulous.

Victor’s crimson eyes cut down to him, amused and calm in a way that made Elias’s skin crawl. "About what?" he murmured, tone smooth and maddeningly soft.

Elias didn’t answer. Victor was playing with him and he had almost no chance of retaliation. His frustration spiked, hot and quick. He pushed again, twisting his shoulders, trying to shift his weight, anything to break that hold.

And then his elbow jerked back without thinking, catching Victor square in the ribs.

The impact was solid, a sudden jolt through Elias’s arm, followed by a short, caught breath from Victor, a low grunt breaking his composure as his body folded just enough for his grip to falter. Elias tensed, half‑expecting anger...

Instead, Victor let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a laugh.

"You..." Elias scrambled off his lap, nearly losing his balance as he stumbled back a step, eyes wide, heart slamming against his ribs. "I didn’t an..."

Victor’s hand stayed over his ribs, his head bowed for a second, shoulders shaking once. When he looked up, crimson eyes glead with that insufferable spark, and the smile that spread across his face was crooked, amused, entirely too calm.

"You elbow like a street fighter," Victor said softly, his voice low and threaded with sothing that made the back of Elias’s neck heat. "Next ti, maybe warn first."

Elias’s mouth opened, but nothing ca out. He felt the sting of guilt, the press of panic, and the weight of too many conflicting emotions jostling inside his chest.

Victor leaned back in the chair, one hand still rubbing at his side, the other lifting in a slow, beckoning curl of his fingers. That smile deepened, lazy, devastating.

"Co here," he murmured, voice soft as velvet and just as dangerous. "You owe now."

Elias’s jaw dropped, the words ripping out before he could stop them.

"You’ve got to be kidding !"

Victor’s laughter this ti was low and genuine, a sound curling through the air like smoke.

"I rarely kid, Elias," he said, leaning forward, that dangerous calm wrapping around each word. "Now... are you going to make this right, or should I let you find out how persistent I can be?"

Elias stared at him, caught between disbelief, irritation, and the sinking realization that sohow, against all reason, Victor was enjoying every second of this.

Elias threw his hands up, pacing one uneven step back like distance might help.

"You’re unbelievable," he said, heat creeping up his neck. "I accidentally elbowed you, and now you’re acting like I’ve mortally wounded a god."

Victor’s smile curved, lazy and devastating. "Well," he said, rubbing his side in mock gravity, "you did hit in my weakened state."

Elias stared, deadpan. "Weakened state. Right. You are still holding down like a vice with one hand, but let’s add "fragile" to the list of lies."

Victor tilted his head, his dark hair sliding over his brow, that maddening spark in his crimson eyes growing. "You think I’m lying? Co test my ribs yourself."

Elias blinked, the movent slow, flat, as if his brain needed an extra second to process the sheer audacity happening in front of him.

"You’re not serious," he said finally, his tone dry enough to crack stone.

Victor only raised a brow, lips curving in that infuriatingly calm way, and tugged the fabric higher until the dark hem cleared his ribs and the low lamplight caught on pale skin mapped with faint silver‑white scars, lines and arcs that traced old wounds, so shallow, so deeper, all deliberate in how they’d healed.

He wasn’t hiding them. He wasn’t hiding anything.

Elias froze, caught sowhere between disbelief and an odd, unwilling pull of curiosity. The scars weren’t what he expected, not neat and uniform like those of a soldier, but jagged, so crossing over each other, so fading into the kind of marks that only ca from wounds no one should survive. They looked... old. Ancient.

Victor watched him watch, crimson eyes sharp and darkly amused, the faintest curl of his mouth deepening as though Elias’s silence pleased him more than any reaction could have.

"Well?" Victor asked softly, his tone edged with mock patience. "You wanted proof."

Elias’s brows drew tight, his lips pressing into a flat line as he forced his gaze back up, refusing to give the scars the reverence they demanded. "You’re ridiculous," he said, voice low, clipped, like the words might steady his own pulse.

"Am I?" Victor murmured, letting the hem of his shirt fall back into place with a slow drag of his fingers, as though to remind Elias exactly what he’d just been looking at. He leaned back in the chair, studying Elias the way one might study a rare book, precious, fragile, and wholly theirs to handle.

"You hit ," Victor went on, softer now, "and now you’ve seen too. A fair trade, don’t you think?"

Elias blinked, his breath hitching at the weight behind those words, the kind of intimacy that curled low in his chest and made his stomach tighten. "That’s not—" He cut himself off, raking a hand through his hair, pacing a step as if movent might untangle the ss inside him. "That’s not how any of this works."

Victor’s smile returned, slower this ti, warr in a way that made Elias’s throat tighten. "Then teach ," he said quietly, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice dropping until it brushed against Elias’s senses like silk. "Show how it works, Elias."