The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 35

Watching Kyle’s ashen face, Milo was overjoyed, increasingly enjoying this method of torment.

He loved watching that deferent face lose control, watching that perfect posture crack, watching the gaze grow so dark it could no longer hide all the discontent. He could play this game over and over all day long.

You like holding it in? Then I’ll make you hold it in until you’ve had your fill.

“Young master… this is a public place…” Kyle’s voice was hoarse with restraint, his eyes pitch black, gleaming with hidden light.

“That’s exactly why, Butler Kyle, you should mind your posture.” Milo’s smile grew even more bewitching. He leaned against the armrest, propping his face in one hand, his posture lazy and alluring. Beneath the table, his foot moved like a cat’s paw, stepping lightly again and again, sometimes pulling back at the edge, sometimes pouring oil on the fire.

The man’s gaze grew increasingly gloomy. His upper body sat with dignified composure, yet below the waist a massive shape strained against his trousers, hard and swollen, with nowhere to hide from the young master’s foot.

A servant approached leisurely, carrying the food. Milo grew even more restless, swinging his foot, nudging the massive thing left and right, his golden eyes fixed on the man, hoping for him to lose control.

Yet the man showed not the slightest crack in his facade. His bearing was elegant. He even poured Milo a cup of black tea. Apart from his darkened complexion, his conduct was proper, while below the vigorous throbbing seemed to belong to an entirely different world.

“Butler Kyle, what did you order? Introduce it to me.” A flicker of amusement passed through golden eyes. Milo spoke as if nothing were happening, while his foot shifted from nudging to pressing, tapping down again and again, teasing the angry beast.

“Fresh fruit platter, croissants, honey jam. The main course is eggs Benedict with smoked salmon.” Kyle’s words were concise, unhurried, yet his voice was so deep it seemed to rise from the bottom of a well, spreading coldness all around.

He didn’t know what game he was playing. He didn’t know the consequences of playing with fire like this. Once the servant withdrew, Kyle spoke with sinister coldness: “Young master, please restrain yourself.”

Kyle spoke slowly, as if every syllable were struggling. He felt his reason being eroded bit by bit, his fingers clenched tight, forcibly suppressing the urge to devour.

“Restrain what?” Milo curved his lips in a smile, golden eyes bright, still looking at him as if he didn’t know the meaning of death, his ankle swaying, toying with the swollen sac, stimulating the surge of essence.

Kyle drew a deep breath. His chest felt scorched by fire and black smoke, stinging with pain. Compared to the chaos below, the young man’s radiant smile was even harder for him to control.

Pitch black eyes locked firmly on Milo’s face, as if ready to pounce and bite, to swallow him whole down to the bone. Yet his body still strained to maintain a deferent posture, his knuckles white, veins bulging.

“Young master… if you continue like this, I will lose control…” He lowered his eyelids, his voice trembling, like a chain about to snap under high heat. “I will do something… out of line.”

Milo paused, his gaze surprised. This seemed to be the first time Kyle had shown him such complete vulnerability. The young master recovered, his smile growing even thicker. His foot turned, sliding across the entire swollen mass, stepping on the tip, his tone drawn out, malicious and frivolous: “Butler Kyle, what kind of out of line thing do you want to do?”

Kyle let out a muffled groan, his eyelashes trembling fiercely, barely masking the heat and longing in his eyes. He said softly: “Young master, if you do not stop this behavior…” His gaze fell on the porcelain ankle between his legs, and he slowly reached out to grasp it: “I will take action myself to stop you.”

Feeling the burning heat of the man’s palm, Milo’s gaze shifted. The man’s grip was not strong, even gentle, yet it felt like being seized at the edge of a cliff. His voice was low and suppressed, nearly a whisper, like thunder echoing in a deep valley, howling winds, surging undercurrents, making one’s heart turn cold, hairs standing on end.

The Kyle before him now was more dangerous than ever before, as if he might snap his ankle in the next second.

Milo maintained his posture, propping his face in his hand, silent for a moment, before saying flatly: “Butler Kyle, are you planning to overstep your bounds?”

“Precisely…” Kyle’s breathing was pressed extremely low. Through the white sock, he rubbed the soft sole of the foot: “For the young master, I am willing to take this risk.”

“Risk?” Milo scoffed, his golden eyes cold. He pressed down with his foot, demonstrating with forceful pressure, stomping hard on the thick root: “Kyle, what makes you think you can take a risk with me?”

Yet Kyle sighed, his fingers pinching the warm toes, finding them small and adorable, his breathing growing even heavier: “By my loyal love for the young master…”

“And by my being the young master’s… most loyal servant…” Saying this, Kyle actually grasped Milo’s foot, moving it up and down, rubbing it against himself through the fabric of his trousers.

Milo was caught off guard by this sudden move, frozen in place. Only after a while did he recover, his heart suddenly tightening.

He tried to pull his foot back, but it was as if seized by burning iron, unable to move. Milo watched Kyle’s reckless appearance, yet it was himself who furtively looked around, grinding his teeth in either shame or anger: “Butler Kyle, you really are full of surprises.”

“Before the young master, I dare not hide…” Kyle’s movements did not stop, while still pinching the delicate heel, pinching the soft toes, feeling the sensitive sole tremble in his hand. The man’s voice was hoarse: “Toward the young master, I have only submission…”

The man was clearly playing along with his game, yet it felt more like an invasion. Milo’s eyes narrowed into slits, his gaze spitting fire, yet he still could not pull his ankle free. He sneered coldly: “Hah, your words are quite moving.”

“Not moving, but true. Everything of yours, I accept with joy.” Kyle suddenly looked up, black eyes blazing, like night flames surging, as if to burn him completely to ash, dragging even the cinders into a bottomless abyss.

Milo shuddered, reacting on instinct to jerk his leg back, but he used too much force, kicking the small round table over. Kyle’s eyes were quick and his hands fast, catching the tabletop before it flipped, but a pitcher of lemonade slid off, crashing to the floor with a loud smash, water spilling all over Kyle.

The man’s chest heaved, his clothes soaked in a large patch, the shirt clinging to his tense curves, outlining coiled power ready to strike, his presence overwhelming. He still sat there, his pitch black eyes staring at Milo, dark and deep, cold light fully exposed.

Milo also stared at him fixedly, his expression unmoving. After a long while, he said coldly: “Go clean yourself up. Truly unsightly.”

Kyle said nothing, his gaze heavy, unmoved. Only when out of the corner of his eye he saw a servant hurrying over at the sound did he draw a deep breath, rise, and bow: “Yes, forgive my impropriety.” Then he took his leave with proper deferent posture.

Watching Kyle walk away until he was out of sight, Milo finally let out a huge breath, collapsing into the chair back, touching his neck, finding it covered in cold sweat.

What was going on with the male lead? Driven crazy by his teasing? What happened to absolute deference and absolute obedience?

What out of line thing could he do anyway, other than hit him? He had actually been a bit worried just now that the male lead would lose control and punch him in the face.

Milo swallowed. If the male lead really beat him up, so what. In broad daylight with everyone watching, he couldn’t kill him. His young master was no pushover. He could use it as grounds to charge him with a crime, let him taste the dark room himself, see how he dared act so arrogant.

The young master tormenting him was only right and natural, and he dared throw a tantrum?! Truly asking for it. Let him run around outside for a few days and his bones had hardened? And he dared threaten him? Just wait and see how he dealt with him later.

That was what he thought, but in his heart fear still dominated. Fortunately, the restrained male lead was remarkably resilient and hadn’t done anything out of line. Touching his own face, Milo was relieved to find it still intact.

They say even a cornered rabbit will bite, let alone the male lead, this falsely loyal mad dog. Should he rein it in a bit? But what was this? He hadn’t exploded or resisted, just vented his frustration like a broken pot thrown to the ground.

Remembering how the male lead had rubbed against his foot, wasn’t that just a dog in heat? Thinking of this, the young master felt a wave of disgust. What was this? He was sexually humiliating the male lead, but instead got used by the male lead to vent his frustration?

“No wonder he said he would stop him. This kind of counterattack appearing compliant on the surface truly killed the young master’s interest completely.”

A servant was cleaning up the glass shards. Milo’s thoughts were in turmoil. He immediately stood up impatiently, simply walking to the lakeside to stroll and calm himself down.

The lakeside was peaceful as a painting, the water’s surface like a whole sheet of polished crystal, reflecting the distant mountains and blue sky. A breeze passed, ripples spreading out in layers, rippling the sky’s light and cloud shadows into satin like waves, along with Milo’s reflected figure, swaying until nearly blurred.

Suddenly Milo stopped in his tracks. In the distant trees, he caught sight of a figure. A thought moved him, and he called out: “Hey! You there, come here!”

The person’s footsteps were hurried. Hearing the voice, he turned back, saw Milo, and paused slightly, seeming somewhat hesitant. Milo raised his voice in displeasure: “What are you standing there for? Come here quickly!” His small hand waved impatiently.

The person had no choice but to approach, but before Milo could speak, he opened his mouth first: “Young master the Duke, are you alright from last night?”

It was Valke. Today he was not wearing the magnificent navy blue military uniform, but a simple loose linen open front shirt and black trousers, no different from a manor worker. But his iron dark skin made Milo recognize him at a glance.

He had been eating breakfast in the dining hall when a bold noblewoman cornered him, her words extremely provocative, making him thoroughly annoyed. He had only just managed to get away, then avoided the crowds, walking toward the sparsely wooded areas. He had walked who knew how long when from afar he saw a black haired figure walking by the lake. His eyesight was excellent, and from a hundred meters away he recognized “that lord” at a single glance, and immediately followed.

The paths around the lake were all guarded by servants to prevent guests from wandering in by mistake. But who would have thought someone would come crashing through the trees and leaves.

Valke was in a hurry to find someone. Being called out to, he was unwilling to pay attention, but when he turned back for a quick look, it was the young master from last night. For some reason, he stopped in his tracks. This pause cost him the black haired man’s shadow. After hesitating a moment, he still walked toward Milo.