The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 41

Kyle turned his head, licking the tear drops at the corner of the golden eyes. His hands slipped into the young master’s nightshirt, moving up and down, gently caressing the skin that had broken out in goosebumps after climax, rubbing tenderly, as if comforting, as if lingering.

He caressed the young man’s spine, shoulders, arms, side waist, hip line, thighs, sliding to the inner thighs, lightly brushing the still half swollen arousal after release.

“Mmm…” Milo shuddered. He was still in the afterglow, his lower body extremely sensitive, subconsciously clamping his legs together, his gaze hazy, murmuring vaguely: “No more…”

“Yes, you do, young master…” Kyle kissed his neck, his fingertips roaming across the wet, smooth skin, caressing his chest, teasing and scratching the buds, his deep voice whispering like a spell: “You still want more…”

“Mmm…” Milo tilted his head back, his eyes half closed, his pink lips slightly parted, exhaling a breath of spring, as if still in the aftershocks of passion, rippling into a bottomless whirlpool, quietly igniting a spark.

Kyle knew this tender body all too well. He knew how every sensitive spot liked to be touched. He knew how to entice the young man into a tempting pose, how to tease him into letting out enchanting sighs.

His fingers pinched the base of the bud, gently kneading, his index finger scratching back and forth across the tip, now and then pressing down. His five fingers shifted, his technique nimble, teasing the buds until they stood up pitifully. Kyle murmured as if enchanted: “The young master is sensitive here too… they’re all perked up…”

“Stop it… I want to sleep…” Milo panted lightly, the red tide across his body not yet faded, yet another layer of red clouds dyed upon it. He scolded with his mouth, yet his body lay soft and limp, letting himself be arranged at will.

Kyle buried himself deep in the snow white neck, inhaling the fragrant breath, exhaling hot air, his tongue swirling as he licked and kissed the side of the neck, the ear. He restrained himself from leaving marks, yet was even more insatiably kissing and nibbling repeatedly. His hands never stopped rubbing and kneading the areolas, plucking, scratching, pressing the tips.

“Mmm…” Milo moaned with feeling, a huge bulge pressing against his buttocks from behind, burning hot enough to frighten. Feeling the man’s suppressed desire, Milo did not know whether intentionally or unintentionally, his buttocks pressed against the hardness and twisted a few times. Sure enough, he heard the man’s breathing grow heavy.

In the twisting and grinding, the huge thing somehow slipped out, standing straight and sliding between the young man’s legs, pressing against the soft sac, lightly poking. Kyle whispered hoarsely: “The young master is swollen here, still has so much…”

“Ahh… you…” The sensitive sac being poked by the burning heat, passion surged like a tide, essence rolled like waves, driving every inch of his skin to boil and tingle.

Milo gave a jolt, his legs reflexively closing together, yet in one move clamped upon the hardness, as if clamping a ball of flame. Both let out muffled groans.

The great beast clamped between white tender thighs, desire instantly roared. The man began to thrust, using the slickness to rub continuously between Milo’s inner thighs and his sac: “Young master, you clamp so tight…”

“You dog…” Being shaken by the man’s thrusts and swaying along, Milo was utterly embarrassed, his color so red it seemed about to drip. Now he could neither spread his legs nor close them. The man behind him was losing control like a wild beast, yet it made him excited as well, his chest heaving, his whole body trembling lightly.

Feeling the young man’s trembling, the man’s desire burned even hotter, his movements growing more unrestrained. The great thing rubbed rapidly in the gap between the thighs, grinding the sac. Both hands simultaneously pinched the buds on either side, kneading them between his fingertips, restraining the young man’s struggles while teasing him into continuous moans.

“Young master, release once more…” His strong waist swung, thrusting rapidly in and out, as if rubbing sparks from the sensitivity, mud and fierce flames mixed together, sticky and hot. The sac struck against the thigh flesh again and again, colliding with lewd flesh sounds. The man said in a hoarse voice: “Release once more for me…”

“Mmm mmm… you… you…” His nipples pinched until swollen, his legs rubbed until burning hot and swollen, his lower body standing tall and proud, swaying and shaking with his body’s movements, dripping with crystal fluid. Milo twisted his waist in discomfort, finally unable to endure and snapped: “Then help me touch it!”

“Young master…” The man panted with a low laugh, his fingertips pinching the base of the bud and pulling, making the young man arch. His lower body pressed even more tightly together, and the man continued thrusting, his speed growing faster and faster: “I have no hands free. You must do it yourself.”

“You bastard…” Milo was too embarrassed for words, yet his desire was unbearable, his arousal hard and numb, urgently needing greater stimulation.

His golden eyes closed, and finally he reached out to grasp his own lower body, stroking himself with self reliance. His pink lips pressed tight, unwilling to let out a single moan, yet the man behind pressed close against him, panting roughly by his ear. His little face flushed so red it nearly dripped blood, and he cursed in a low voice: “Get away.”

“No, I want to watch you…” Kyle bit the young man’s shoulder through his clothes, saliva and fragrant sweat mingling, soaking the pure white linen nightshirt until it turned transparent. His black eyes shone bright, admiring the sight of Milo pleasuring himself and acting wanton in his arms, his voice excited and hoarse: “I want to watch you release…”

The man suddenly quickened the movement of his fingertips, plucking back and forth across the nipples, trembling out red flowers. His lower body crashed fiercely, rubbing the thighs crimson, the sac even more brutally squeezed and ground.

Milo only felt his sac burning like fire, his legs kicking and struggling wildly, crying out in his mouth. The next second, the man covered his mouth with one hand.

Kyle gathered Milo into his arms, flipped over, his legs smoothly hooking around Milo’s two kicking feet, spreading them left and right, making Milo lie on his back with his legs spread wide upon him. One hand covered the young man’s moans, the other gripped his arousal, stroking rapidly, burning and grinding together.

“Mmm… mmm…” The fierce pleasure made Milo whimper, trembling continuously, his legs spread wide unable to break free, his body helplessly twisting, forced to sink into the heat, tossed and swayed.

The large hand stroked even more fiercely, chest and back pressed tightly together, feeling every bit of the young man’s passion and trembling, until his whole body tensed and shuddered, gushing out in spurts.

“The young master released so much…” His fingertip brushed across the wet head, making the young man shudder lightly. Kyle turned Milo’s chin and kissed him deeply, while at the same time pulling over the soft hand and pressing it onto his own fierce weapon, stroking up and down.

His tongue plundered wantonly, feeling the warmth and smoothness of the small palm. Hard and hot, it swelled and expanded, and just as Milo’s hand burned numb, it finally spurted white fluid, hot liquid splashing everywhere.

Both their essences spilled across the young man’s lower abdomen, mixing and blending together, pooling into a patch of white upon the snow white skin. Milo went completely limp, without even the strength to lift a finger, the corners of his eyes crimson, his gaze scattered, his mind buzzing without end.

Kyle got up and fetched a towel, wiping carefully, yet suddenly kissed the pink lips again, sucking fiercely, as if his passion was not yet spent, venting deeper desire upon the mouth. Until the young man’s throat emitted broken whimpers, he changed from sucking to licking, licking tenderly across the corner of the mouth, the jaw, kissing the face, the tip of the nose, the eyelids, with both love and pity.

Kyle let out a sigh, leaving a final kiss upon Milo’s brow, embracing the young man who had drifted into vague sleep, smiling bitterly. He closed his eyes, yet his heart burned even hotter.

The sky light gradually brightened, morning mist faintly rising outside the window.

Milo sat at the edge of the bed, his head slightly drooping, his eyes half closed, his whole person as if still in a dream, letting Kyle attend to his washing. He rinsed his mouth a few times and spat into the silver basin, then leaned backward and fell back onto the bed.

When Kyle turned around to wipe Milo’s face, he had already drifted back to sleep with the Duke of Zhou, and only when he was helped up to be dressed did he drowsily let himself be handled.

His eyelids were too heavy to open, his body standing crooked, as if he could doze off at any moment. On the first day of freedom, Milo already began to miss the days of house arrest when he could wake up naturally.

“Young master, sleep a little more.” In the carriage, Kyle gently smoothed the golden hair, coaxing softly, but without him needing to speak, the young master had already unceremoniously flopped onto the man’s lap, closing his eyes to catch up on sleep.

Kyle handled matters properly, too properly. Only yesterday he said he would arrange a meeting with the prince, and today there was already a gathering, so fast it gave no time to relax.

But since it was Lucian they were meeting, that was fine. Since the duke wanted him to get close, he would just go up and say hello directly. No pressure at all.

This imperial prince might make others’ legs go weak with fear, but who was Milo? The death seeking vicious male supporting character, the designated idiot villain. His buff was that he looked down on no one.

What platinum intimidation, what otherworldly aura, none of it worked on him. None of it worked.

The prince probably hated the duke with a passion, and the vicious young master likely contributed his fair share. In the prince’s eyes, Milo was arrogant and deserving of a beating, as hateful as the all powerful grand duke. In Milo’s eyes, the prince was just a brat, speaking in mysterious circles, also deserving of a good lesson.

They could not really be said to have played together since childhood. They had fought together since childhood. The prince had not pulled Milo’s golden hair a few times while calling him inferior blond, and Milo had not grabbed the prince’s neck a few times while calling him bleached boy.

That’s right, Prince Lucian’s platinum hair was fake.

Not that it was completely not platinum, just that the color did not reach the royal standard of white. The original story never mentioned this, and the outside world knew nothing of it. It was discovered when the two of them snuck off to play by the pond as children. He had never told anyone about it, but when the two of them were alone and fighting, their mouths held nothing back.

Remembering Lucian’s red faced, thick necked appearance, Milo snorted out a laugh, yawned, and shifted position on Kyle’s lap again.

That guy who was afraid of heights when climbing trees, afraid of falling when jumping into water, was actually running some poverty alleviation plan. But since the original story never even mentioned it, it definitely wouldn’t make any waves. Nothing could stand in the way of his Wolf King brother.

He knew that Lucian’s true moment to shine came during the Black Whirlwind.

Speaking seriously, the prince could be considered the male lead’s benefactor. He was the one who would later recommend Kyle for a knighthood, and also the major backer who supported Kyle in toppling the duke.

But he was not counted as part of the protagonist group, because after he ascended the throne and carried out a blood purge, he finally realized that he should not have elevated a black hero whose achievements would overshadow the monarch.

When he planned to fix the situation and prepared to move against Kyle, he was preempted by Kyle, who directly launched a counterattack and rebellion. The royal capital fell, and along with it the entire Osei changed dynasties. He himself was personally executed by the male lead upon the throne.

Milo snorted coldly. Lucian was at best the same as him, just a vicious cannon fodder type, and even dumber than him, because the prince had once been an angel investor for the protagonist group. With this layer of knowledge, Milo felt more contempt than pity for him.

So brain dead, not on my team. Not at all.

The carriage swayed gently, its wheels rolling over the gravel road, the rhythmic sound lulling one toward dreams.

Milo fell into a deep sleep, his golden hair scattered, the corner of his mouth still carrying a trace of a smile, as if even in his dreams he was cooking up some wicked scheme.

Kyle lowered his gaze, quietly staring at the young master’s sleeping face, his palm gently stroking through the hair.

Lucian was a difficult person to read. His faction, his style, even his academic background and experience, were impossible to verify.

Logically speaking, a prince of this age should have long gone to the battlefield to gain some credentials, hung his name on some outstanding academic advancement, and assisted with some important state affairs. But Prince Lucian, up to the present, was still a blank slate. The outside world knew very little.

As if the royal family had not yet planned out his path, not knowing what red carpet to lay out for him, or as if they were protecting this sole imperial heir with extreme care, keeping everything hidden and unshown.

The divorce case between the king and the former queen back then was not a glorious affair. It was an open secret that Osei forbade discussion of, but this could not change the fact that Prince Lucian was the first legitimate heir.

The temple, the academy, the entire conservative faction, might not necessarily form a clique with the prince, but they were all natural supporters of the “platinum orthodoxy.”

The queen won people’s hearts, but only with some business circles and middle class tied by interests. These economic forces seemed massive, but they had little substantive influence on royal power.

The duke was from the military system, with close relations to lords at military strongholds throughout the nation, and with the queen’s faction maintained a tacit understanding of staying in their own lanes. But if the duke thought he could sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight, or play both sides, that was too idealistic.

To the prince, both the queen and the duke were treacherous subjects who violated royal power. If he could muster his strength, whether to defeat them one by one or to take them all out in one pot, was hard to say.

Moreover, he had received a piece of intelligence whose truth was unknown.

The queen was pregnant.

His black eyes sank deep, his fingertips twining a strand of golden hair, a flash of dark fierceness passing through the depths of his eyes, then instantly softening into infinite tenderness. A thousand schemes and intrigues, yet he could not bear to disturb the small figure in his arms for even a moment.

Kyle leaned down, kissing Milo’s temple as if in worship.

As long as he could hold tight to this bit of warmth in his arms, he feared nothing.