Chapter 122: The Club
Milo just smiled when he saw how worried Salvatore looked. "I’m really fine, Sir."
Salvatore let out a rough breath as he smoothed the blanket over Milo’s chest. The original plan had been simple: he had intended to take Milo straight to the dark room for their new sessions.
But the moment his palm touched Milo’s skin and felt the intense, radiating heat, the desire left him completely.
He couldn’t think about anything else. He was also a bit curious because Milo always got sick whenever he simply told him that someone might die.
But beneath that realization, Salvatore also felt a sense of guilt. He looked at Milo’s pale face and wondered if he might have been too rough during their play. Maybe their session from the previous night had drained Milo’s stamina.
He worried that he might be pushing Milo too hard and that Milo’s body hadn’t fully recovered yet.
"Stay still," Salvatore commanded quietly, his voice firm. He reached down to the hem of Milo’s shirt. "I’m going to take these off. You can’t sleep in your clothes while you’re sweating like this."
Milo’s eyes fluttered open, his hazel irises cloudy and unfocused through the fever. A sudden wave of nervousness washed over his face, and his hands weakly grabbed the silk waistband to cover himself.
"Relax, I won’t do anything. I’m just going to take that off," Salvatore murmured, his hand gently brushing Milo’s wrists aside. "I need to check for any damage. I need to see if the skin is torn. Okay?"
Milo stayed still while Salvatore removed everything. The man had already seen him naked, but he was still nervous.
"Open your legs for me, Milo." Salvatore held Milo’s knees, looking at him with complete assurance.
Milo swallowed hard, his throat dry as he forced his thighs to relax, letting them fall open on the mattress.
Salvatore used his large fingers to carefully inspect the sensitive tissue around Milo’s hole. The skin was bright red and tender, clearly from the previous night, but there was no bleeding.
Milo gulped, trying to close his legs, but Salvatore held him firmly. "Don’t move."
Milo felt his cheeks burning. "Sir..."
"I’ve seen this many times. Why are you trying to hide it? I just need to make sure you’re okay. Relax."
Milo took a deep breath, trying to relax, but he couldn’t.
"Sir... That’s enough. I’m okay down there."
Salvatore touched the skin gently, carefully checking the area, and was satisfied once he was sure there were no tears.
Milo sighed in relief when Salvatore closed his legs.
Salvatore exhaled slowly through his nose, pulling the heavy duvet back over Milo’s lower body to trap the warmth inside. "The skin is just tender. It’s not damaged. I should have prepared your body better before I took you that hard."
"It’s... it’s not because of the play, Sir. I think," Milo whispered, his voice barely audible as he shivered under the blanket. "I’m used to much worse than this from before. Nero used to leave me bleeding for days. This just feels... like a regular illness. I was just so weak."
Before Salvatore could respond, a sharp, quick knock rattled the door.
"Come in!" Salvatore shouted.
Stella walked into the bedroom, carrying a tray loaded with an ice bucket, a clean washcloth, a thermometer, and a glass of fresh water.
The curtain that had been dividing the room was now fully open. Her eyes immediately darted toward the bed, noting the way Milo was tucked tightly beneath the duvet, his bare shoulders indicating that he was completely naked underneath.
Curious and surprised, she slowed her pace, her gaze lingering on Milo’s flushed face.
Salvatore stood up immediately, his massive frame completely blocking her view. He took the tray from her hands with a cold, impassive expression. "Get out, please. I’ll handle the rest myself."
Stella didn’t argue. She quickly lowered her head and backed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Milo had no energy to feel embarrassed right now. He simply lay still.
Once they were alone again, Salvatore set the tray on the nightstand. He picked up the digital thermometer, pressing it gently against Milo’s ear. The device beeped quickly, indicating a high temperature.
Salvatore’s brow furrowed. He took two fever pills from the first-aid kit Andrew had left, lifting Milo’s head with his large palm to help him swallow the medicine with a few sips of water.
He took the washcloth, dipped it into the ice water, and wrung it out thoroughly before folding it flat across Milo’s heated forehead. Milo let out a soft, contented sigh at the cooling contrast, his eyes closing completely.
Salvatore sat on the edge of the mattress, watching Milo’s chest rise and fall in a rapid, shallow rhythm. He wanted to leave Milo to rest, but he was intensely worried about sleeping in the same bed while Milo was this fragile.
Salvatore knew his own sleeping habits; he was a restless, light sleeper who reacted instantly to movement, and he was terrified that he might injure Milo without realizing it.
"I’m going to carry you to your own room," Salvatore said flatly. "You need space to rest."
Milo’s eyes snapped open from behind the damp washcloth, his fingers immediately reaching out from beneath the duvet to grip Salvatore’s forearm with a frantic, desperate strength.
"No... Sir. I don’t want to go back to my room. I want to stay here with you. Please."
Salvatore looked at the tight grip of Milo’s fingers on his skin. He let out a long sigh, realizing he couldn’t force Milo down the stairs. And he found himself liking the idea of Milo being there with him.
"Fine. But don’t touch me suddenly."
Milo nodded quickly.
Before Salvatore climbed into bed, he prepared himself. He took his gun and knife from his pockets, placed them inside the top drawer, and used a small brass key to lock it securely.
He didn’t want any weapons within easy reach while his instincts were on high alert. He turned off the main chandelier, leaving only the dim lamp by the nightstand, and slid beneath the duvet on the right side of the bed.
The moment his weight settled, Milo drifted across the sheets, ignoring the instruction to stay on his side. He pressed his warm torso right against Salvatore’s side, burying his face in the man’s shoulder.
The heat radiating from him was intense, but Salvatore didn’t push him away. He wrapped his strong arm around Milo’s waist, pulling him into a secure, protective embrace.
"You know I can’t sleep in this position," Salvatore said.
"But I can."
"It’s up to you. Then fall asleep quickly."
The room fell completely silent for a few minutes. Milo’s breathing began to slow as the medicine took effect.
"Sir," Milo whispered into the dark skin of Salvatore’s neck, his voice faint through the fever. "What is the club Sir Alben was talking about earlier?"
Salvatore’s jaw tightened slightly in the dark. He hadn’t wanted Milo to focus on it. But he was sure Milo would keep asking if he didn’t answer.
"It’s a private BDSM club. I don’t think you want to know about it. Anyway, I don’t want to go."
"Oh, a BDSM club? I want to know! Have you been there before?"
"Yes," Salvatore said flatly, his tone dismissive. "Alben dragged me to one of the events because he knows the owner. I’ve never joined any formal club network, and I’m not interested in public play. But Alben likes it. He always shows up whenever there’s an event."
Milo shifted against his chest, his hazel eyes widening. "Is there a special event tomorrow?"
"It’s a VIP exhibition," Salvatore explained smoothly, his voice a low vibration against Milo’s cheek.
Milo’s fingers tightened against Salvatore’s skin. A sudden curiosity flared through his mind. He wanted to understand the underworld that Salvatore was interested in. He wanted to see what the man’s lifestyle was like.
"I want to go, Sir. Please take me with you."
Salvatore’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at him. "No. I’m not taking you to a public dungeon, Milo. It’s not a place for you."
Milo pouted against the man’s skin, his lower lip jutting out. "Then... if you don’t take me, are you going to go there with someone else?"
Salvatore didn’t answer right away. He took a slow breath, his large arm tightening around Milo’s waist to keep him from shifting. The silence stretched on for five seconds.
"Sir... please," Milo pleaded softly. "I want to go. I want to see it with you."
"Get well first," Salvatore commanded, his tone final. "We’ll see it later. Sleep now."
Downstairs in the main living room, Alben was sprawled out on the sofa, his sleeves rolled up as he twirled an empty whiskey glass between his fingers.
Joe sat stiffly on the sofa across from him, his arms crossed over his clothes, his expression dead serious.
They had been waiting for Salvatore to come down for over forty-five minutes.
Roderick stood by the long windows, checking his watch for the third time. The digital display read 12:15 AM.
"He’s taking his time tonight," Alben drawled, a lazy, amused smirk touching his lips as he looked up at the ceiling. "Maybe our little chicken is keeping him occupied. Sal really has a soft spot for him lately."
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