Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 122: Forgiveness

He remembered them. Not just how they looked, but how they felt. The memory was still fresh—of Ronan’s teeth against his tongue, that dangerous pressure that never crossed into pain. Sharp and smooth. Controlled.

Riven had felt the edge of them, tasted the danger, and yet leaned in willingly, as if compelled by something more primal than logic.

His breath caught in his throat.

Ronan shifted closer. Riven’s legs, wrapped tightly around his waist, tensed ever so slightly. Like a reflex. Like his body instinctively sought to ground itself in the presence of the alpha before him. Ronan felt it—the way Riven clung, even without realising it. There was something deeply intimate in that unconscious gesture, and it made his pulse quicken.

No matter how many times they could have been intimate, Riven will always disturb his mind, so much so that he could not focus on his work... And he did not mind that. His mind was filled with him, his face, his scent, his touch, he would surrender himself in his omega’s devotion.

Just the sight of Riven staring at his lips like that, with his pupils slightly dilated and his breath uneven, was enough to send a rush of heat straight to Ronan’s core.

He could feel it building in his lower abdomen—the pull of want, thick and slow, dragging his thoughts toward the man wrapped around him.

Without saying a word, Ronan leaned forward. There was no hesitation, just certainty. His lips brushed against Riven’s in a fleeting kiss—light, but intentional. The pressure was gentle, the contact brief, yet it sent a pulse through both of them. Riven’s lips were soft, warm, and still glistening faintly under the dim flickering candlelight like they’d been waiting just for him.

"Riven... I have been gentle, as much as I could... But right now, I want to leave marks all over you, I want to make your toes curl, I want you to dig your nails into my back... Will you let me?" He was practically begging Riven... He needed to satisfy the beast in him, and he could only do so with Riven’s permission.

He was the rational alpha after all.

Ronan’s heart pounded so loudly he could hear it in his ears. His arms, though steady around Riven, trembled ever so slightly with the weight of unspoken fear.

Rejection. It wasn’t just about pride—he had shed that long ago in front of Riven—it was the deep-rooted ache of possibly being turned away by the one person he wanted more than anything. His mate. What if Riven pushed him back now? What if he said no?

He couldn’t bear it.

His breath came out uneven, the desperation in his voice lingering in the air like a prayer, thin and vulnerable. Riven’s ears twitched, catching the fragile tone.

That deep, proud Alpha, who commanded legions without raising his voice, was practically begging. Not just with words—but in every movement, every brush of his fingers, every strained breath, Ronan’s longing was palpable.

It wasn’t the first time Ronan had begged. He already had done so with words, touch, glances, unguarded moments. And yet... This time was different. Riven was no longer angry. His chest still ached from the memories, but the sharp bitterness had dulled.

Ronan had shown his remorse—over and over. Now, all that was left in Riven was a quiet ache, and a warmth he didn’t want to admit had grown stronger, he could not be mad anymore. And even if he was not in heat, he desired this man.

Riven’s tongue swept across his bottom lip absentmindedly, tasting the remnants of the kiss they’d shared moments ago. Ronan’s taste lingered—warm, slightly sweet, intoxicating. It made his throat tighten and his fingers twitch with the need to reach out again.

The cold night air drifted over his flushed skin, raising goosebumps on his arms and making the sensation of Ronan’s warmth even more stark in comparison. He opened his mouth, finally ready to speak—to say something, anything—but Ronan’s lips returned before the words could escape.

It wasn’t a gentle request this time. It was a kiss that didn’t ask permission.

A kiss that demanded.

A kiss to stop Riven from speaking any more cruel words.

But it was a pity he did not let Riven speak, if he did, he would hear the words that would make any man lose his mind, "I want you in me."

Riven barely had time to blink before Ronan sealed their lips together again, hungry, fervent. His hands, once resting by his sides, moved on instinct, clinging to the fabric of Ronan’s clothes, grounding himself.

"Mmf—Ronan," he tried to protest, voice muffled by the kiss.

But truthfully, he wasn’t too mad.

He liked being kissed.

More than that—he loved it.

There was something in the way Ronan kissed him that made everything else blur. He wasn’t being used, wasn’t being coaxed into something—he was being wanted. Thoroughly. Every brush of lips, every shared breath, felt like a desperate need to remind each other, you’re mine.

Boinking? Sure, it was thrilling.

But this? This made Riven feel loved.

So he responded—fully this time. He didn’t remain passive, letting Ronan explore him. Instead, Riven tilted his head slightly, giving himself better access as he pushed his tongue into Ronan’s mouth. He was clumsy at first, not used to taking control, but it didn’t matter. Ronan groaned softly at the shift in dynamic, one hand gripping Riven’s waist tighter.

Their tongues danced, clashing and curling, each seeking dominance but never finding it completely. Riven gasped when Ronan’s fangs grazed the side of his tongue. Sharp. Tempting. He pulled back slightly, only to dive right in again, emboldened by Ronan’s reaction.

They stumbled.

Ronan’s steps were slow but purposeful, pushing forward, guiding Riven without pause. He barely noticed until his back hit the wall—cold, hard stone that made him flinch slightly at the contrast. The sensation was grounding.

His back was cold. But Ronan—Ronan was so warm.

Trapped between the chill of the wall and the blaze of the man before him, Riven felt completely surrounded. And he was right where he wanted to be.