The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 23

The bedroom had no light. Only a thin line of moonlight quietly seeped through a gap in the curtains. The air was thick with scorching heat, mixed with soft panting and wet sounds that could not be held back, filling the whole room with hazy, intimate charm.

Milo twisted on the bed, breathing fast, his sleep shirt in disarray, his smooth calves kicking inside the brocade quilt, now and then stamping and bending, making the bedding a complete mess.

Kyle lay steady on one side, one hand propping up his upper body, fingertips lightly playing with the golden hair scattered across the pillow, gentle and controlled. His other hand cupped the youth’s delicate chin, lowering his head to deeply kiss those pink lips, passionately tangled together.

A sweet, heavy scent spread through his mouth, burning hot and dense, chaotically woven together, so thick it was almost suffocating. Saliva mingled, spring desire flowing out, as if it would completely drown him.

Milo moaned, his body trembling slightly, yet still constantly stretching out his tongue, searching and chasing, as if greedily attached to sweet nectar, never tiring of the taste no matter how much he tried, his lips continuously sucking and asking for more, unable to stop, willingly enjoying it.

He had completely given up on himself.

After all, in his past life he had been a fully grown adult in both body and mind. Perhaps it was last night’s drunken loss of control that had opened the floodgates of memory. All day long he kept recalling that lingering passionate kiss, and when the night grew quiet, he tossed and turned even more, unable to fall asleep.

It must have been too long since he had last kissed anyone. Once that kind of taste started, it became impossible to forget and made one restless. At the end of the day, this debt still had to be charged to the male lead’s account.

He had been thinking such jumbled thoughts when the notification sound for a limited time mission rang in his mind. Milo practically jumped up smiling, rushed next door to kick Mark awake with one foot, then ran back to his room in a flash, rolling into bed, extremely excited.

When the man knocked and entered, bowing, he could not wait to grab the man’s collar and bite up at him.

In the darkness he could not see the man’s face, nor did he want to. He had drunk wine today too, and his foggy head did not want to think about anything or deal with anything. He only wanted to sink into this lingering passion.

During the passionate wet kiss, when the man reached out to touch his arousal, Milo cried out, his moans unable to hide his surprise and anticipation. He passionately sucked on the man’s lips, like a reward yet also like longing, like a kitten begging to be petted, acting spoiled and rubbing against him, seductive and alluring.

Long fingers wrapped around his hard length, gently stroking, not much force but thorough in care, from tip to base, rubbing the sensitive heat. Every stroke made the youth’s legs tremble and his whole body go numb. It stirred up fiery waves of desire, rippling with endless tides of passion, pushing his arousal to stand fully erect.

Milo’s whole body shook. He threw back his head, gasping for breath, but the burning lips and tongue sealed over him again, forcefully pushing in, licking across his palate and each even white tooth, tracing the curve of his pink tongue like plucking a string, stirring up sweetness, teasing his lips and tongue to tangle with it.

Milo only felt a ball of flame suddenly burst in his chest, burning him all over. He could barely breathe, yet felt dizzyingly numb all over, his mind floating, as if riding clouds and mist high in the air, yet also as if falling into the deep sea, pleasure so intense it melted his bones.

Waves of desire surged up. Milo unconsciously drew back, yet it was as if he had been thrown onto the shore by surging tides of passion, pressed tightly by the man, his mouth enveloped in burning heat, unable to move.

Standing tall and hard, vulnerable and caught in the man’s hand with nowhere to escape, the fingers skillfully stimulated and stroked, the rhythm gradually building, pressing step by step, each stroke more fierce than the last, sparking flying sparks, spring tides rising again and again.

“Ngh ah…” Milo whimpered, suddenly arching his back, both arms wrapping around the man’s neck, his brows tightly furrowed, as if clinging tightly in an overwhelming flood. With a series of tense spasms, the waves finally burst and released, spurting out gushing white fluid.

Milo floated in the aftershocks of desire, trembling in waves.

Kyle raised himself up with rough breathing, one hand wiping sweat from his forehead. Then he dampened a towel and wiped away the sticky mess between the young master’s legs.

“You did well…” Milo comfortably narrowed his eyes, relaxing in the coolness, suddenly murmuring as if talking in his sleep: “You could surely make Miss Charlotte surrender.”

In the darkness, the man’s fingers paused. He did not speak, only silently wiping the youth’s sweat dampened body.

But Milo’s strangely wired mind had already turned over countless thoughts. Kissing and such could both humiliate the male lead and train his skills for him. Wasn’t this the same as a scheming character development mission? He was not really neglecting his duty, at most he was using work time for personal fun, no big deal.

Milo let out a silly laugh, his heart relieved, no longer tangled up about it. He turned his head, hooked his arm around the man’s neck, and kissed him again. This time there was no urgent demand, only the lingering stickiness and wanting more in the aftertaste, like savoring a memory, yet also like attachment.

Kyle responded gently, but felt the youth gradually slow down, his breathing becoming steady, and before he knew it, he had slipped into sleep. The man let out a soft sigh, still unwilling to part as he licked and kissed the lips, then kissed across the face, the brows and eyes.

After who knew how long, Kyle quietly got up, looked down at his own faintly erect lower body, and sighed while holding his forehead.

The young master is really too much to bear…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moonlight was cold and clear, the corridor silent.

Kyle closed the bedroom door, glanced to his side, and as expected saw Mark waiting in the shadows.

Kyle’s gaze held no emotion, yet for an instant it was like a dark flash of a blade, its cold gleam pressing. Mark stood with bowed head, his expression unchanged, unmoved.

Kyle lowered his eyes, looking at the elongated shadow in the moonlight, and said lightly: “The young master probably wants to go out.”

He had long heard Allen’s report, word for word, down to the young master’s every small movement, recorded in exhaustive detail. Although it was still only a vague guess, everything followed a traceable pattern.

The young master was still under house arrest. To get a carriage and travel out in full view of everyone was nearly impossible. Getting a horse would be relatively easier, but someone had to be in the stables, and besides, being unfamiliar with the place and not knowing the roads, he could not get far. If he had a coachman, all problems would be solved.

“Watch him carefully. Do not let the young master run around wildly, and do not anger him either.” Kyle instructed in a deep voice.

Mark asked: “If the young master insists on going out?”

Kyle paused slightly, thought for a long time, then said as if sighing: “Then let him have his way.” He picked up his pocket watch, gazing at the intricate carvings on the silver case, his tone extremely soft, as if explaining, yet also as if speaking to himself: “With you following him, it is still better than letting him run around on his own.”

“Yes.” Mark bowed to accept the order, slowly stepping back to fade into the shadows.

Kyle raised his eyes, his gaze falling into the boundless darkness, empty and distant, vast and unknown. His fingers curled slightly as he murmured softly: “Young master… where would he want to go?”

Light and shadow swayed. This sentence seemed to sink into the darkness, silent yet heavy.

For some reason, that woman’s figure floated into his mind. The young master had said he hated her, but did not many teenage first loves start from hating the other person?

The young master had never kept anyone in his heart, yet he was unusually fixated on that woman, talking about her constantly. All signs showed that she was a special existence to the young master.

Kyle rubbed the pocket watch in his palm, his gaze dark and fierce, carefully tracing the cold engravings. Suddenly, the corner of his lips curved into a cold smile as he muttered to himself: “If we are talking about who he hates most… that would still be me.”

His fingers suddenly tightened on the watch case, the force heavy, as if to crush that sterling silver piece alive.

~~~~~~~~~

The night was quiet and solemn, moonlight spilling through the high windows.

Charlotte sat before the piano, her posture graceful, her expression cold. The piano music slowly spread through the room, the left hand low like night time tides, solemn as fate, the right hand light and nimble, lighting a thread of clear light for the melody.

The music lingered, yet memory flashed back to an afternoon a few days ago.

“You do not need to show yourself,” Victor smiled warmly, like a glass of strong sweet wine. “Uncle will arrange everything.”

“I will not show myself,” getting involved in this kind of thing would only make it worse. Charlotte did not raise her eyes, only said coldly yet firmly: “I will not marry the Duke’s young master either.”

“This is not for you to decide,” Victor still smiled, without the slightest urgency, as if from the very beginning he had not considered Charlotte’s wishes at all: “This is an opportunity. The Grand Duke is riding high. This marriage is a good thing for you, and for the family.”

Her voice was cold and clear, neither fast nor slow: “Precisely because he is riding high, the world’s dissatisfaction is already obvious. Getting too deeply involved at this time will attract jealousy in the short term, and burdens in the long term. This puts the family in danger, and puts me in danger.”

Long slender fingers brushed through a run of grace notes, the torrent rising proudly, like swirling frost and snow, fluttering and scattering, followed by a glissando flowing down, swift and bright, like ice beads falling, crisp and sharp.

“With your uncle here, would I let you be in danger?” Victor laughed heartily, yet his smile imperceptibly stalled: “The strong take from the weak. Only with more chips can glory be unlimited. Choosing the small over the big is what truly puts one in danger.”

“My marriage is not your bargaining chip.” Charlotte said word by word, firm and decisive: “Who I see and who I marry is not decided by rumors, nor by you.”

The piano music suddenly grew heavier, the chords sinking along with it, like a heavy stone falling, cold and resolute. The bass notes reverberated, sinking into silence, like frost condensing on an icy lake under the moon, pure and spotless, the mirror surface without ripples, unshakable.

“It is useless. You can only remain silent.” Victor said to Charlotte’s back as she turned to leave: “People love stories. If you do not speak, others will speak for you.”

She turned back, her eyes black and white distinct, calm to the point of being nearly ruthless: “Then let their stories have no way to begin.”

The piano music turned gentle and lingering, the right hand lifting lightly, like hazy moonlight, elegant and soft. The left hand chords slowly drew to a close, sinking into the night, carrying a warmth that was not easy to notice. Yet the final note hung in midair, the young girl’s thoughts stirring with a touch of tenderness, like that dark silhouette, so calm it set one’s heart at ease.

She struck the final chord, and the lingering sound slowly dissipated in the room. She felt no anger, and let out no sigh. She only reached out to close the piano lid, the sound as light as a closing statement.

When fate came, she would only take one look, play one song, then send it off calmly, and remain content with herself.