Becoming the Terminally-Ill Villain Who Torments His Disciples - Chapter 41.2
A choked sob rose from deep within Cielo’s throat, and Oscar’s eyes widened.
Tears had begun to fall from Cielo’s eyes—drip, drip—onto Oscar’s hand, still pressed over his mouth.
“…Huh? Wha—Master?”
Oscar, who had been struggling to maintain composure, stared in shock. Hot tears streamed down the back of his hand.
Cielo sniffled pitifully, as if overwhelmed by some unbearable sorrow, his fingers clutching desperately at his own waistband.
“…Haah.”
Did Ryan endure even this?
Burying his face in Cielo’s trembling shoulder, Oscar exhaled a long sigh and muttered under his breath:
“That damn bastard… This is what he put up with? No wonder he’s treated like an adult.”
Finally, Oscar lowered the hand covering Cielo’s mouth—only to slide it down, slipping his fingers beneath Cielo’s waistband instead.
“Hihk—!”
A sharp, breathy cry escaped Cielo as his body shuddered violently. He pressed himself flush against Oscar, sweet, trembling moans spilling from his lips.
“I’ll endure it too…”
Oscar gritted his teeth, stroking the delicate skin beneath his fingertips as another low curse slipped out.
This… is pure torture.
***
Fortunately, the heat triggered by his ability didn’t last long.
“…Haa.”
Rubbing his sore lower abdomen, Oscar exhaled in relief and swept his dark hair back.
Before presenting as an Alpha, I had no idea Master’s pheromones were this potent. The occasional whiffs of acacia he’d caught before had never been enough to wreck him like this.
“…Are you alright?”
At Oscar’s question, Cielo ducked his head, fidgeting with his fingers.
After a long silence, Cielo suddenly stood and scooped a handful of snow from outside the cave.
“Here, for your… hand…”
“Huh?”
“Wash… your hand…”
When their eyes briefly met, Cielo quickly looked away. Oscar blinked—then burst into laughter.
“D-Don’t laugh…!”
Cielo’s ears burned crimson beneath the strands of hair framing his face.
Oscar clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Too late—already cleaned it.” He held up a handkerchief, thoroughly soiled with sticky evidence.
Cielo’s eyes widened to saucers. He snatched the cloth and hurled it deep into the cave.
“Hk—! Kgh…!”
Oscar muffled his laughter behind his hand. Who knew his Master could be like this?
“…I said don’t laugh.”
And now he was pouting? Not demanding a kiss, just sulking? Unbearably cute.
Still grinning, Oscar slowly stood and placed his hand over Cielo’s—the one holding the half-melted snow.
“Master’s hands are so small. Doubt this’ll even make a dent.”
Teased, Cielo yanked Oscar’s collar and dragged him to the snowbank outside. He grabbed a fistful of fresh snow and vigorously scrubbed Oscar’s palm with it.
“…Wash them properly when we get back.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes!”
The sheer embarrassment radiating off Cielo made Oscar bite his lip to stifle another laugh.
That bastard Ryan got to see this side of him all alone?
‘You selfish prick.’
Cursing Ryan internally, Oscar returned to the cave and leaned back against the wall. Cielo moved to sit a cautious distance away.
“The ground’s cold. Don’t sit there—here.”
Oscar patted his thigh. Cielo gave him a dubious look but, muttering something like, “Then… excuse me,” obediently settled onto his lap.
“…Can I lean on you?”
When Cielo hesitantly asked, Oscar cupped the back of his head and gently guided him to rest against his chest.
“Why ask now?”
“…Just felt like I should.”
Cielo’s eyes darted nervously as he relaxed against Oscar. The crisis had passed, but the silence felt oddly tense.
His lips parted hesitantly as he groped for words – when abruptly, the question surfaced and escaped his lips.
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