Blasphemy - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When you woke up the next day, your back ached and your waist was sore.

You really had been working overtime too much lately. Rubbing your dull, aching wrists, you climbed out of bed.

After lazily washing up and getting dressed, you walked out of the bedroom.

Arlo happened to be coming out of the kitchen.

He had changed into a new apron today. Because he was afraid of the heat, he wasn’t wearing anything on his upper body. Thankfully, the apron covered him, or you really wouldn’t have known where to look.

Even so, it was still embarrassing enough.

Maybe because he wasn’t familiar with online shopping, Arlo seemed to have bought the wrong apron.

You stole a glance and could only feel that both the size and style were unreasonable no matter how you looked at them. The lace-trimmed apron was small and tight, and Arlo was barely managing to wear it. Wherever your gaze landed, it had even squeezed out a deep valley.

Your face flushed. You hurriedly lowered your head and pretended you hadn’t seen anything.

“Good morning, my baby.”

Arlo set breakfast on the dining table, then walked over and gave you a loving hug.

Your face was forced into that valley, and breathing instantly became difficult. Just one second before you felt like you were about to suffocate to death, Arlo let you go.

Being alive felt wonderful.

You let out a long breath. Remembering the sensation against your cheek just now, you were so mortified you could hardly sit still. To hide your panic, you quickly sat down in your chair, picked up your chopsticks, and pretended to focus on breakfast.

But in Arlo’s eyes, you were completely unmoved by his body.

You were even avoiding it like the plague.

A heavy wave of anxiety instantly swept over him. Arlo fretted, wondering if his figure had gotten worse. Or was his hair not smooth enough? Or did you hate the scent of his new body wash?

Looking toward the full-length mirror on the other side of the living room, he scrutinized his body with strict and cautious eyes.

Suddenly, his expression froze.

Arlo remembered. Every day before showering, he used a device to remove any excess body hair to ensure his skin stayed delicate and smooth. But yesterday, he had waited up for you until it was far too late, and he had forgotten to manage his body hair as usual.

Yes. That had to be it.

It was because the feel of his skin was no longer perfect that you had subconsciously resisted his hug.

Arlo silently hated himself for his carelessness.

And even more, he was afraid you would discover his lie.

Three years ago, when you were newly married, you had been surprised to find that your husband was completely different from other Europeans. His skin was soft and clean, smooth all over, and felt almost exactly like silk to the touch.

Curious, you had asked him why.

How had Arlo answered back then?

He had told you shyly, “Baby, I was born this way.”

He said he had been born like this.

And it was precisely those words that convinced you that your husband-

was a natural-born stunner.

You firmly believed that his muscular, sensual body, his faint and pleasant scent, his long, slightly wavy blond hair, and his smooth, fair skin were all things he had been born with.

But how could you know how much time and effort Arlo had poured into everything you thought was “natural”?

Strict dietary control. Grueling weight management.

Never mind how many bottles and jars his skincare routine required. Just taking care of that beautiful head of long, slightly wavy blond hair took nearly two hours every day. Even the scents of his shampoo and conditioner had been carefully selected by Arlo to match the “light and elegant” fragrance you liked.

You knew nothing.

You were still foolishly convinced that your husband had simply been born smelling that good.

Arlo was not resigned to that.

So after breakfast, when you walked into the walk-in closet to change for work, you “accidentally” caught your husband completely naked again.

As someone with a strong sense of boundaries, you instinctively extended that same courtesy to him. In a fluster, you hurriedly pulled the door shut and backed out, even blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

Arlo’s breath caught.

When it came to you, the three words he wanted were not “I’m sorry.”

But you left so cleanly, so decisively. Watching your retreating back, Arlo wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The corner of his mouth twitched twice, almost nervously. In that moment, he looked less like Michael and more like Asmodeus wrapped in a beautiful skin.

He was so hungry.

His gaze swept inch by inch over his reflection in the mirror. Arlo looked down, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply.

It was hungry too.

Human desire was like a black hole born from a collapsed star. It devoured endlessly, yet could never be satisfied. Nothing that crossed its boundary could escape, not even light.

And to Arlo, you were his light.

But his light refused to shine on him, even for a single instant. So in the dark corners, filthy moss began to grow.

And you, standing outside the door, knew nothing of any of it.

By the time your husband emerged from the walk-in closet, he was wrapped up tightly from head to toe. The calm you had only just managed to recover fell into chaos all over again.

What was wrong with you?

You were horrified. How could you have the thought of personally turning him back into the way he had just looked?

“Baby.”

Arlo looked at you with concern and reached out, lightly touching your shoulder. Like a startled bird, you dodged away and fled into the walk-in closet in a panic.

His beautiful hand froze in midair.

Arlo stared fixedly at the tightly shut door. His handsome face twisted slightly, and his eyes grew even darker.

Why? Why? Why? Why was darling treating him this way?

And why… did you not love him?

That fierce hunger began sweeping through his entire body again. Arlo could feel, with terrible clarity, saliva flooding madly at the roots of his teeth. Yet the only food that could ease his thirst and hunger had been placed high up in a cupboard. He could clearly smell its fragrance leaking through the cracks, but no matter what he did, he could not reach the cupboard door.

Why wasn’t baby willing to generously give him just a tiny bit of food?

Clearly, just a tiny bit would be enough to fill him.

A thin sheen of tears slid over his eyes, gathering in his rims without falling. In the end, it condensed into resentment and greed.

The hungry Beelzebul opened its abyssal maw.

And you? You were actually still repenting, repenting for having filthy thoughts of profaning your angelically pure and elegant husband. It filled you with an overwhelming sense of shame.

Because Arlo…

He truly had once been a devout priest who lived in celibacy and chastity.

Desire was sin.