The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 29

Kyle had simply had things go too smoothly for him.

Milo thought to himself that although Kyle had reduced his outings, he surely still met with the protagonist team behind his back. With both career and love going his way, the man looked full of energy and radiant, especially irritating.

In contrast, Milo himself was under house arrest, banned from drinking, with not a single thing going his way. During the day Kyle went out sometimes and appeared sometimes, and he could not control that. But at night, could he not control that too?

Make him work overtime every day and attend to him every night. Let’s see if he can still smile. Which worker likes sleeping with their boss? That was just how cruel and vicious he was.

Since the male lead had caused him to toss and turn sleepless at night, he would not let him off easy either. Milo rationalized it to himself this way.

The curtains were drawn tight, moonlight completely sealed out, and the room fell into a dead silent darkness. Yet the entire space seemed to expand infinitely.

Milo curled up under the blankets, his ears even sharper than in daylight. The sound of water gradually ceased, footsteps approached, and the mattress sank slightly under the weight. In that moment, he held his breath, his heart thumping tight, as if the only sound in the darkness was his own heartbeat.

After a rustle of fabric against bedding, there was no more movement.

He sensed Kyle lay at some vague distance from him. No movement, no sound, not even breathing could be detected, as if deliberately restrained to leave no ripple at all, only silence and presence.

This stillness was unbearably oppressive in the darkness.

Milo curled up tighter, sneering inwardly: serves you right, exactly like this, lying here every night, letting you know my power.

But the darkness was too absolute. He could see nothing, yet it magnified breathing, heartbeat, and the faint sounds of bedding until they made his heart race. Milo grew increasingly restless and uneasy. All the thoughts he should not have came rushing out now.

He only needed to reach out to touch that burning body. Turn his head slightly and he could smell the man’s scent.

Milo’s whole body went rigid, all sleepiness gone. Nights without alcohol already felt hollowed out, irritating as hell, and now his heart raced even faster. He was the one giving orders. Why should he be so nervous and uneasy?

Milo simply stretched out, tossing and turning, deliberately making the bedding rustle and crackle, his toes kicking over toward Kyle’s side, poking and kicking at the man’s calves.

Since he could not sleep, no one else would sleep either.

Kyle remained completely motionless, steady as a stone sunk to the bottom of a lake, without even a breath. This calmness drove Milo’s heart into greater chaos, his chest burning hot.

Some force within him throbbed and stirred, tormenting him. He could not tell whether it was the frustration of insomnia or long suppressed desire. Before he could sort out his thoughts, Milo reached his limit. He suddenly flipped over and pressed down on top of the man, grabbing his shoulders and neck and shouting: “What are you pretending for? Get up!”

Dark eyes half lidded, clearly capturing the young man’s angry expression in the darkness, his breathing still steady, his tone level: “Young master, what do you command?”

“What do I command? I haven’t settled the score with you for fooling me! Did you think you could get off this easy?” Seemingly sensing the man’s gaze in the darkness, Milo swallowed uncomfortably and snapped: “Turn over and lie face down.”

The man was silent for a moment, then turned over as instructed, lying face down on the bed. Milo plopped down on the man’s lower back, throwing himself forward like a hungry tiger pouncing on prey, lying flat against the man’s back, sniffing at the scent of his neck, not forgetting to whisper viciously: “Tell me, didn’t you have some nerve, daring to trick me!”

His hands eagerly burrowed under the man’s shirt, groping wildly across the broad back: “Do you think you’re so clever? So pleased with yourself? You think I can’t do anything to you?”

The man said nothing, only his body tensed, his skin breaking out in distinct goosebumps under the young man’s touch. The clear sensation delighted the young master, filling him with immense satisfaction.

“Why so quiet? Weren’t you quite the talker?” His hands circled around under the armpits, trying to reach the man’s front, but the mattress blocked them. Milo smiled wickedly, pressing against the man’s ear, his voice hoarse: “Get up.”

The man finally could not hide his breathing, letting out a soft gasp. He bent his arms and pushed up his upper body. The mischievous small hands immediately slipped to the front, roaming across full pectoral muscles, occasionally sliding over the protrusions of his chest, teasing maliciously.

Kyle supported himself with both hands, maintaining balance, as if surrounded by flames. Before him were small hands lighting fires everywhere, behind him was a soft fragrant body pressed flush against him. It was not heavy, yet it made his arms go numb, his waist go weak, his breathing grow increasingly heavy.

Hearing the man’s panting, Milo grew even more pleased. He lifted the man’s shirt hem, pressing his cheek against the tense back muscles, feeling the man’s thick solid build. Darkness stripped away the mask of self control, and he finally did what he had been dreaming of, stretching out his tongue to lick his favorite scar.

Kyle let out a muffled groan, his fingers pressing deep into the mattress, yet still he said nothing. His back muscles tensed like a firm arch bridge, shoulder blades sinking down to form a shallow hollow, his posture restrained and deferential.

“And you dared tell me to raise a pet.” Milo’s breathing quickened, his voice excited and hoarse, kissing and pecking as he spoke, one hand making mischief on the man’s chest, the other sliding down his abdomen, tracing the lines of his abs: “Aren’t you my dog? Or do you want to be my pet? Let me train you?”

Kyle held his breath, his body instinctively curving, his solid back arching to form a beautiful curve, as if suppressing immense emotion, muscles swelling and faintly twitching.

“You lousy dog, so disobedient.” Feeling the man’s trembling, Milo laughed wildly, as if encouraged, unleashing all his desire. His fingertips roamed along smooth lines, his tone softening, full of satisfaction and malice: “Good boy, puppy, don’t move. Let your owner pet you.”

As if truly stroking a puppy’s belly, his fingertips lightly scratched back and forth across the abdomen. Kyle drew a deep breath, his brow furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead. Milo’s touch was like flame, like crashing waves, igniting his desire and overturning the tide of lust.

Fire raced through his chest, abdomen, collarbone, and waist. The young man’s little bottom rubbed back and forth against his lower back, chattering away nonstop, hot breath spraying against his ear and the back of his neck, all of it maddening, making his blood surge and his soul fly.

Kyle’s Adam’s apple rolled, veins bulging, both palms pressing hard against the bed, knuckles white, joints cracking. He desperately suppressed his body’s instincts, but the more he restrained, the sharper his senses became. He felt Milo’s fingers sliding across inch after inch of skin, circling his chest, drawing circles around his navel.

Electric tingling spread through his whole body, rippling in waves, wire thin itches racing through every corner. Every muscle trembled, every cell screamed.

He wanted to grab this reckless little creature, throw him down, and take him hard, soften him, make him cry, make him see no one else in the whole world except him.

“What’s wrong with the puppy, shaking with happiness?” Interpreting the man’s trembling as suppressed anger, Milo grew even more unrestrained, his heart immensely satisfied. Whether it was the pleasure of tormenting Kyle or the wild joy of getting what he wanted, or perhaps both.

Milo bit the man’s earlobe in satisfaction, holding it in his mouth, sucking carefully, breathing out teasing words: “Is your owner making you excited?”

Kyle’s body jerked violently. The wet heat at his ear sent itching through him, tangled memories burning within. His whole body shook violently, beads of sweat dripping one by one onto the sheets. He felt he was about to lose control, gasping hoarsely, pleading: “…Young master…”

“The puppy is so shy.” Hearing the man finally speak, Milo was thrilled, redoubling his efforts to tease the man’s stiffened peaks, kissing the back of his neck, one hand slowly sliding down from his abdomen, passing over each tense abdominal muscle, slipping into his waistband.

Kyle sucked in a breath. When the delicate fingertips touched his burning heat, he felt himself instantly boil, bubbling like boiling water, his chest heaving violently, struggling to restrain himself from moving.

Milo’s fingers lightly played with him. The man’s throat emitted a trapped beast’s whimper. His whole body tensed, teeth clenched, temples pounding, fine sweat sliding down his cheeks. Flames shot to his head. He could barely think, only feeling he was about to explode.

“Hmm, looks like I guessed right. The puppy is so sensitive. You’re already rock hard here.” Milo showed a pleased smile, rubbing the man’s stiffness even more boldly through his underwear, mocking: “Tell me, when was the last time you touched a woman?”

In the darkness the man said nothing, only suppressed panting. The fingertip maliciously tapped the wet tip, teasing: “If you don’t speak, your underwear will be soaked.”

The man suppressed himself, hoarse gasps escaping between his teeth, his whole body trembling like an electric shock. Finally he spoke hoarsely with difficulty: “Never…”

“Hmph, liar.” As punishment, Milo squeezed hard at the head.

Kyle let out a low growl. The intense stimulation made him involuntarily arch his body, yet he still did not move randomly. Only his breathing grew heavier, cold sweat streaming down his forehead, barely managing to speak: “Not lying…”

“Really? You go out every day, and you never relieved yourself?” Milo raised an eyebrow, his fingertips turning to gentle teasing, two fingers rubbing the head, sometimes scratching, sometimes poking, his tone carrying an unconscious pleasure: “What a shame. I thought you two must have done something.”

Kyle could no longer think. He could only rely on extraordinary willpower to suppress the boiling agitation throughout his body. Excessive restraint left his mind a blank white, roaring with noise.

How he wanted to lose himself in this moment, freely pressing the young man beneath him. But he could not. It was not yet time. A cat that had just extended its claws could not be allowed to shrink back into the bushes. One night of passion was not what he wanted.

He did not want drunken entanglement, did not want anxious release of desire. He did not want to be the drug in the young master’s cage. He wanted more, so much more.

He wanted the young master to walk into his palm, step by step, gradually sinking, holding nothing back, delivering all desire and dependence, body and soul, bit by bit, personally into his hands.

Kyle tensed his nerves, locking all desire into the cracks of his bones, until he compressed himself into a posture of deferential obedience. Within this posture, the belief hidden deep in the darkness was calm and clear:

He was the young master’s master. What he wanted

was all of the young master.

“Disappointing a beauty, you really don’t understand romance at all.” Patting the swollen bulge, Milo withdrew his hand in satisfaction. For some reason, knowing that Kyle had not gone all the way with the female lead greatly pleased him.

So what if he ran around outside? He was just the same, full of unmet desire. The male lead loved putting on an act, serves him right.

“Lick it clean.” Putting his sticky fingertips into the man’s mouth, Milo gave a frivolous command. Feeling the man obediently licking his fingertips, the young master finally let out a breath of spiteful satisfaction.

Milo rolled to one side. In the darkness, he saw the man collapse on the bed gasping as if granted a great pardon. A thought stirred in Milo. He lifted his sleeping shirt, revealing his reawakened arousal, and groped to cup the man’s face, whispering like a demon: “Again. Pleasure me.”