My Vampire Boyfriend

Chapter 20: Adorably Irresistible

On the boxing ring, the two fighters stared each other down as a crowd pressed around the ropes—an intense bout about to erupt.

In an instant a c***k of movement split the air. The opponent launched first; Ethan clenched his fists, his lithe figure flashing with nimble evasions before unleashing a fierce, brutal straight punch that landed squarely on the challenger’s temple.

Gloves crossed through the charged air; both men hungered for victory. What began as friendly sparring quickly escalated into a real contest.

Sweat sprayed and taut muscles flexed, coiled with raw power. Ethan moved like a beast—cold-eyed, his blows swift and precise—dominating within a few rounds until his opponent was left with no answer.

Only when the coach called a halt did applause erupt from the sidelines. Ethan turned and, to his surprise, found Liam among the spectators—applause leading the chorus of fans who hadn’t had their fill. One brazen trainee shouted, “Chi Ge, spar with me! I want to challenge you!”

In the gym, students regularly traded practice, but Ethan, who now taught part-time, rarely sparred with pupils; they were too inexperienced to manage their stamina, and his role was instruction, not slugging matches. Lately, however, an excess of energy and the relentless pestering of some earnest fool had driven him to accept anyone who dared—newcomers, veterans, even cocky challengers.

Ethan stepped down from the ring. Liam asked, “Not taking any challengers?”

“No need.” Ethan led him to the corner lounge, expecting Liam to get to the point. Instead, Liam’s gaze roved assessingly across his frame.

“You’re impressive,” Liam remarked, appraising him from broad shoulders to a narrow waist and the powerful planes of his abdomen. “Nice physique.”

Ethan’s brow tightened a fraction. “Your kind seems fond of offending humans.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Liam replied. “I speak from appreciation. I have no interest in humans, rest assured.”

Ethan said nothing.

“In Eastland, that build isn’t common. No wonder the brat admired you,” Liam continued earnestly. “Your fighting technique surprised me—perhaps we could exchange notes sometime.”

Compliments like that had trailed Ethan since childhood—thanks to his parents’ strong genes, he had towered over his classmates from kindergarten on, eventually reaching nearly one meter ninety. If not for Liam’s impeccable suit, he might have accepted a friendly bout—curious how a human turned vampire might fight. Liam, after all, was muscular enough to be a challenge.

“Let’s talk business,” Ethan said.

The gym hummed with noise; few heard the quiet exchange in the corner. Liam produced two tickets from his briefcase. “I’ve arranged a hot spring. Next weekend, take Lucien; a driver will pick you up and return you.”

Ethan examined the tickets. The card displayed a scenic photograph and an address tucked away in a remote town on the outskirts of West City—somewhere he’d never been. Liam explained the hot spring was run by a friend; the tickets granted immediate entry and special arrangements. He wanted Ethan to persuade Lucien to take the blood bath.

“Choosing a hot spring is my way of thanking you for looking after the brat—and for his tips. The scenery is nice; stay an extra day and relax.” Liam added that the date fell on Little New Year. Ethan accepted the tickets. “I’ll persuade him. You don’t need to come in person for such small matters.”

“No.” Liam flashed his usual smile. “Coming personally shows sincerity. Besides, we should settle the money you tipped the brat—I’ll return the principal plus interest, and add an extra sum. I’ll be busy and won’t have time to tip from my livestream; I’ll leave it to you.”

Ethan didn’t need the money, but Liam persisted; he relented and accepted the additional payment to tip Lucien from “the big tiger.” Whatever Ethan himself had spent need not be repaid.

“Are you sure?” Liam reminded. “You tipped nearly two hundred thousand dollars—something some people never earn in a lifetime.”

Ethan, slick with sweat and done talking, wanted to shower. He waved it off, dryly: “Apparently I’m not ordinary.”

Before leaving, Liam glanced at Ethan’s retreating back with a look that hinted at more than courtesy.

On Sunday, dutiful as ever, Ethan became a dutiful errand-runner: he went to the mall to buy Lucien swim trunks, then saw new arrivals in the men’s section and bought two sets of New Year outfits—shoes and socks included. Everything prepared, they only lacked one foolish vampire.

Back home, Lucien lay on the bed fussing with his phone. Ethan dropped bags on the mattress and scattered the new clothes.

“Lucien, try them on.”

Lucien, who’d been wrestling with online shopping for over an hour and made no progress, sprang up like he’d been rescued. Pointing at a maid-inspired outfit on the screen, he asked, “I want to buy this—how do I pay?”

Ethan’s expression shifted. The costume paired with provocative stockings made him snatch the phone and exit the page. “What did you get up to in the group again?” he demanded.

“I lost a game with the girls, they dared me to wear it and film,” Lucien answered.

“You’ll do whatever they tell you? I told you to go soak in the hot spring—why not do that?”

“You don’t get it. I need followers.”

A father’s patience thinned; one unguarded day and the foolish son dove headfirst into every trap. Ethan watched Lucien’s naive face and felt an unsettling shift—as if a piece of the immaculate white paper he’d never sully had quietly smudged at the edges.

“Not allowed,” he said, picking up a plain undershirt. “Take off your pajamas and try this on.”

Lucien suddenly remembered the money he’d earned, all sitting in Ethan’s account—the new keyboard, the TV monitor, the chair-and-desk set delivered days ago—purchases Ethan had arranged, never spending his own earnings.

“I can spend my own money—why would you buy clothes with mine?” Lucien demanded.

Ethan kept his voice level, though his fists tightened at the edges. He’d promised Liam and now had to coax the thoughtless vampire: “I saved your money separately. It hasn’t been touched. Try the clothes—these are for New Year.”

Relieved, Lucien tried on each outfit like an inquisitive child and peppered Ethan with questions—what New Year meant, why wear new clothes, what a red envelope was, why tuck it under a pillow, and what a temple fair entailed.

When Ethan helped him into socks, Lucien remembered a message from his fan group: “Buy that outfit for me; use my money—I won’t buy it on my phone.” That i***t still fretted about it. Ethan’s patience slid in one ear and out the other. He tightened a shoe lace and hauled Lucien up. “Walk around—are they tight?”

“No, comfortable.” Lucien was pleased; everything Ethan chose suited him, and the blood—so sweet—kept fulfilling him night after night.

He patted Ethan’s shoulder magnanimously. “You’re better than Mark. Stay my servant forever. When you die, I’ll honor your Eastland custom—burn you to ash and bury you in the earth.”

Ethan: “…”

“Only you get that honor.”

Lucien sprinkled the word honor as if it were currency. Ethan asked, “Mark’s your servant?”

Mention of his own servant made Lucien bristle. “He’s a pest—didn’t bring him this time. You’re sly but you satisfy me.”

Ethan felt no swell of pride at royal approval. “Let the servant keep the honors. Put your clothes and socks in the washer yourself. Hang them when they’re dry. Put your shoes away.”

“You can’t boss me around!” Lucien protested.

Ethan hadn’t seen Lucien’s little bat form for a while; the boy was growing increasingly human. Ethan stared and, on impulse, reminded him, “Don’t forget—the money you worked for is in my account.”

“You damned—” Lucien kicked off his sneakers and flung one at Ethan’s leg, then lunged. “I knew you wanted to spend my money!”

Ethan dodged in time but underestimated how petulant and tenacious a vampire could be. Lucien tumbled and fussed, a battle brewing. Ethan readied his fists—but could not bring himself to strike. In the scuffle, his palm was nipped—what a dog-like fool. This time Ethan didn’t hold back: he scooped Lucien up lengthwise and flung him onto the bed, then launched a merciless tickle attack on his ribs—right where the laughter lived.

“Ah—hah—damn you—hah—ow—you're evil—hah—ticklish—hah—kill me—hah!” Lucien writhed, twisting like a braided pastry, laughing and dodging, maddened and helpless.

“Enough?” Ethan asked.

“F*** you—hah—!” Lucien gasped between laughs.

“I don’t have a ‘grandfather,’” Ethan shot back, tightening his hold until Lucien’s face flushed. Indeed, as the comments had claimed, the boy was unbearably cute.

Unable to resist, Ethan continued.

“You son of a—hah,” Lucien laughed, then, defeated, begged, “I won’t cause trouble! I won’t! Hahaha!”

“Too late.” Ethan eased his tickling into a softer menace and used the moment to bargain. “I’ll stop if you go with me to the hot spring next week. Refuse and I’ll keep going.”

“You—hah—fine! I’ll go!!”

“Good. I bought you trunks—try them on too.”

Freed at last, Lucien glared murderously at Ethan as if he might sever him with a stare. But his gaze was immediately diverted when the swim trunks flopped onto his head; enraged, he tore them off and swore vengeance.

“Ethan! You disgusting bastard, wait—one day I’ll kill you!”

Watching Lucien sputter red-faced was its own amusement. Ethan smiled and teased, “I’ll be honored if that day ever comes.”