Alternative Path: “Russian Roulette” NSFW (Patreon)

"Misha!" He calls out before the man could even step out of the bedroom, putting on a face that no one could detect was on the verge of breaking down. "I'm bored. Let's play a game."

"What."

Misha looked entirely disinterested, but his eyebrow is raised and he is clearly listening to this peculiar request.

"A game," Miles once again uses a voice that demands more than requests, to remind Misha that he is appointed to accompany Miles. "You like games, don't you?"

The man smirks, "Depends on the wager."

Taewon wouldn't care about the prize... but I guess this isn't you right now. "If I win, you sneak me outside."

Misha starts to slowly walk towards him with glaring eyes. "Do you know what the Master will do to us if you escape--"

"I don't want to escape." Not without you and your brother. "I just want to go outside and see the city. I'll need bodyguards. I'll behave."

Misha scoffs at Miles' attempt to look tough, but those tears in his eyes aren't fooling anyone. He looks fearful, but doesn't seem to act like it. Moreso, sad. The gangster says more seriously as he closes the door, locking it behind him, "And if you lose?"

"..." Miles' breath hitches. "What do you want?"

"Well," Misha sighs while gazing at the bedroom's window. "I want you to tell the Master to replace my Gang as bodyguards."

What... "What about Vanya?"

"He's one of us. I don't want us to babysit you anymore," Misha scowls at him.

That... hurt. Taewon, you're always a mean little prick. "Fine, it's a deal."

Misha raises an eyebrow and suddenly pulls out a gun announcing, "Let's play then, shall we?"

"Uhm..." Miles, even though he's invulnerable to bullets, nervously stares at the gangster unloading his vintage pistol. Looks like he has multiple guns in his holster; as expected from a whole leader.

"Russian Roulette, ever heard of it?" Misha proposes, dropping all bullets but one.

Miles looks up at him, shocked. "B... but..."

"You won't die, will you?"

"But you--!"

"Yeah, if I lose and have to watch you for the rest of my life, I'd rather die," Misha spits out, throwing the gun on the bed.

Miles had to hold in a pained throat and tearful eyes, more hurt at his words than the possibility of Misha losing and getting a bullet through his head. "T... Ta... M... I don't think I want to do this."

"You already stroke up a deal, if you tap out you already lose, childish Krolik," Misha scoffs at the very insecure Miles. But then, he takes back the gun and shrugs, turning around. "Oh well, your loss. I will inform the Master we will no longer be your bodyguards-"

"I will play!" Miles demands, voice still wavering. Misha turns around and meets the uncertain eyes of an undying man, who seems to fear more for his opponent than his own. "You go first. Then I go." It's very unlikely the first shot will have the bullet.

Misha once again gives one of his sarcastic smiles. "Very well, then."

The man stands in front of Miles, both on the foot of the Master's bed yet maintaining distance as to not dirty it. They'll be shooting towards the door to avoid splashing blood on the bed, although the winner has to clean up the loser's mess.

Confidently, Misha puts the gun on his temple after spinning the cartridges, charmingly smiling at Miles who has the most horrified expression on his face.

I kind of want to lose now... Miles could rather seduce them at a distance rather than see Taewon dead. "Wait, maybe I really don't want to play any longe-"

Bang!

Empty. Misha nonchalantly throws him the gun. "The game's already started, don't be a pússy. You're the one here who won't die."

But Taewon... Miles' hands trembled as they held the gun, a lot more lighter than a fully loaded one. I don't want to see you die...

Miles was taking too long that Misha got irritated. "Just hand me the gun if you don't want to do it, then I'll shoot you myself-"

Bang!

"Reluctant, are we?" Misha once again raises an eyebrow to mock him.

Miles can't help but jump at the sudden, Bang!

Misha is too confident. The bullet is surely going to be here at his turn, right? Miles wants it to be. Maybe Misha is confident because he knows Miles will lose.

And so, Miles points the gun right on his chest and prepares for the fourth bullet's pain. Usually it hurts like a pole being poked hard against skin and bone, but it goes through you.

Bang! But there was nothing like that when Miles pulls the trigger. Oh no... I... Taewon loses....?

His hands are trembling and he doesn't know why. Impatient, Misha snatches back the gun to which Miles suddenly pulled back hard enough to knock the gangster down on the edge of the bed. "What the fúck?!"

"We're not playing anymore! I lose!" Miles declares, pinning down Misha's hand along with the gun. "Now stop it!"

"We started a game, we're gonna fúcking finish it!" The gangster elbows Miles' jaw to successfully knock him away. Miles tries to stop him by kicking his knee to keep him down and pushing him further up the bed, both of them now fighting over the gun.

"What the fúck is wrong with you?!" Misha yells, pulling back the gun and flipping them over, Miles now pinned to the bed by his neck while the gun is pulled up far away from him.

But Miles punches Misha right in the jaw, grabbing the shoulder which held the extended arm and kicking the gangster in the ribs only hard enough to make him curl, but not break anything. Misha did curl, giving Miles the opportunity to snatch the gun from his hands.

"I said we're not playing anymore!" He demands, trying to hop out of the bed and escape with the gun.

"I say we finish the goddámn game, bítch-y Tsarina!" Misha yells out, pulling Miles back by the wrist and quite harshly pulling him back on the bed, parallel to Misha's position where they now lay face to face in close proximity, the gangster hovering over him after pinning both of his wrists down.

In the worst timing ever, Miles' heart is delighted by this distance, where he might kiss Misha just by lifting his head up. Though his face is competitive, his heart can't help but bounce in excitement.

That excitement was replaced by adrenaline when Misha puts the gun to his head; but before he can shoot, Miles spins one of his wrists to knock away Misha's restriction in order to grab the gangster by the throat and destroy his train of thought with a massive, passionate kiss out of nowhere.

Misha freezes at the feel of his lips. What. Why is... he kissing me...

The gangster hasn't kissed a man in all his years here in Russia. He is disgusted with men. He would have slapped Miles and beat him up, calling him slurs the way he had to some of his men whenever they grope each other in the lounge. He wants to, right now. This is a massive disrespect, assault even.

But, Why can't I... why is my own lips moving with his...?

Not only that, but Misha is subtly grinding against Miles and slowly getting turned on with each second their lips merge. Misha's breath slows down, the other hand that was supposed to restrain Miles now holding the curls and keeping the head still in bed while their tongues harshly play with each other.

Wait, tongues?!

Suddenly, the fantasy was broken when Miles successfully snatches the gun away from him, the other arm reaching to the opposite side in order to elbow Misha's chest. Once he grunts in pain, Miles flips the both of them over. With a shocked and confused gang leader right under him, the Mistress straddling directly on top of his very confused díck.

Miles wasted no time and pointed the gun directly at his own chin, before, BANG!

Misha had pulled his wrist to the side and only managed to shoot the ceiling, a hole boring through the expensive architecture now but thankfully hidden among the chandelier.

"You..." With heavy breaths, Misha looks at him in disbelief. "You crazy bítch?! Why would you cheat?!"

"I don't want you to die!" Miles angrily yells to stop his tears from flowing out.

"You--this isn't how you play the game! You fúcking kissed me too, disgusting!"

Only now did Miles realize their position, but he doesn't want to let Misha know about his shame. "Y.... you're hard right now, what do you mean disgusting!"

"It's what naturally happens when you do the shít that we did, dipshít!"

"I'm sorry," Miles huffs, his tone dropping like a sarcastic teenager rebelling against his parents. Misha sits up just as Miles awkwardly gets off him. "Please don't tell me there are cameras here..."

"The Master values his privacy, so no," Misha grumbles, staring at the gun in Miles' hand. "You crazy little bítch, why would you steal my shot?!"

"At least I won't die!" Miles argues back to the man sitting on the bed. He sounds a bit too passionate there, Misha even raising an eyebrow at him. Fearful that he may be suspicious, and the early revelation will lead to Misha reporting to the Master and eventually finding out that they're his past lovers, Miles turns away. "Never mind! I cheated, so I lost. Don't fúcking play that game again."

Before he can walk away, Misha reached for his wrist and pulled him back. Miles' heart skips looking back at him, emotions spiking his nerves.

"Why do you care so much if I'll die?" Misha says quite seriously with an emotionless face, "You saved me from the Master, too. Why the fúck would you do that?"

"Uhm...."

"I did nothing but be mean to you."

Miles wants to say it. I know you, Taewon. You're my precious Heidi, Satan, Taewon... you're not Misha. You're mine.

But, he held his tongue for the sake of their safety. Misha could only stay confused at the look on Miles' face. A look of longing for something, and sorrow for a loss. The gangster is puzzled, trying to read or study Miles Taylor himself, but is unable to.

Until, Miles reveals, "I just don't want you to die. For the sake of... Vanya, who I grew fond of."

"You what?" The possessive little brother pulls him closer threateningly, now holding onto Miles' arm. "Grew fond of who?"

"Yeah, you heard me." Miles, why would you say that?! When in fact, he's just egging him on. "I like your brother. I don't want him to lose you."

"Why the fúck would you even be attracted to my brother, you stay away from him!" Misha yells at him, very furious.

"Or what!" Miles pisses him off even more because of a theory he comes up in his mind.

"You kissed me, you're a whóre!"

"I kissed you to save you, bástard! But now I'm regretting it because I should've saved it for Vanya." Miles willingly steps closer, their breaths now fighting in this close distance. "Then when you die, Misha... he'll be my head bodyguard and I can confess to h—!"

Misha wouldn't let the Master's concubine seduce his brother. He grabs Miles' hair and smashed their heads together, shutting up the whóre with a threatening kiss on the lips. A full one, filled with fiery rivalry. But, it was all too quick and Misha pulls away to point a finger at Miles, releasing the hair.

"Don't make me fúck you to death," he angrily mutters, "If you seduce my brother, I will be sure to do just that."

"Oh, I will..." Miles squints an eye on him, not threatened by this gangster at all. "You think I'm scared of you, Misha? One day, I'll fúck your brother right in front of you--!"

Misha is not allowed to hit or hurt him; or even leave a mark for the sake of the Master. So instead, he opts to a more violent action. He throws Miles to the edge of the bed and bends to his level in order to rip the vest and shirt he has on, all while the other hand is loose around his neck.

"If you're fúcking with anyone, it's gonna be me. And I'll make sure you'll think twice about going after my brother, you whóre." Misha thinks he's in control because he can choke and séxually assault Miles right here, and is actually planning to.

However, there is no assault happening. Miles fully welcomes the rough kisses and tight grip the gangster has on him. He was trying to seduce Vanya this time, it was all for Misha. Using his own anger and weakness, which is his own brother, Miles was able to manipulate him.

Now, none of them are innocent nor are any of them a victim. Misha is harassing Miles, which the latter is manipulating the former. Whatever they're doing, both are now kissing and grinding onto each other in the Master Bedroom, with Miles' shirt being undressed.

Just when the gang leader pulls away, Miles had a chance to breathe. "Misha, wait-"

"Shut the fúck up," Misha spits those words out like an angry handwriting, "If you wanna be a whóre so bad, be a whóre for me. Don't ever touch my brother."

Miles' heart jumps in his throat, watching Misha stand at the edge to undo his own belt. The supposed victim tries so hard to not show his excitement. "Well, I'm gonna have to see which one of you fúcks better..."

"It's gonna be me, bítch," Misha grabs Miles by the neck, forcing him to face a very angry erection.

"A... are you sure the doors are locked...?"

"I'm not stupid, it is. Now show me what you do to the Master every night, slút," Misha's left hand has a tight grip on his neck which crawls up to his hair where the hold actually makes him cry out in pain.

That open mouth gave Misha an entrance to shove his díck inside, Miles looking up at him with an angry yet sexy look. "Mmm, the smart-mouth does feel good..."

Miles scowls at him, but still willingly bobs his head and getting turned on himself for once again giving pleasure to his former lover for so long. Even though in Misha's eyes he's fúcking a whóre, to Miles this is simply a reunion. A reunion where he's skillfully seducing a cold-hearted gangster.

"Fúck!" Misha's hand tightens around Miles' hair, making the man tear up in his eyes.

But, that look of anger turned into that of seduction. He pulls away for a breath, replacing his mouth with hands. "Yeah, you like that? Want me to call you Master, too?"

"Dirty whóre," with his left hand still, Misha slaps Miles' cheeks not in a violent way, but tightly as if teasing. Then with the synthetic one, Miles can feel it behind forcing him to suck. It was definitely kinky and made Miles' smile wider.

"If I'm dirty, you should clean me up..." Miles mutters while his tongue is playing around with Misha, looking up at him with a challenging look.

"Ow!"

Misha accepts that challenge, and threw a clothed Miles inside a running shower. His shirt was open, falling down onto his elbows, and he still has pants on.

Breathing heavily and leaning on the tiles, a wet Miles watches as Misha strips his clothes in front of him. Taewon has always been full of tattoos, but this time there are unfamiliar ones like a whole snake wrapped around his left leg and koi fishes swimming on the right, even with ripple effects surrounding them. That cóck however...

Miles wasn't able to look at him anymore because the man came in and shoves him to face the wall, the synthetic hand even pinning him there while the other one strips his wet pants down his thighs. Miles wants to see Taewon's face wet, but his head gets shoved against the tile harshly.

"How does it feel being assaulted, bítch? You're gonna get fúck and not even begging me to stop anymore?"

"Oh... w-well," Miles' breaths were heavy. "Please stop..."

He feels Misha's finger between his bottom cheeks, inspecting the hole that Master Farlan has been playing with. Unknowing that Miles' whole body had always belonged to the brothers.

Miles adds, "... if you want to."

This shocked Misha, enough for him to pause. "What?"

"Since you think I'm a whóre, you should fúck me like one..."

"You sly, horny bítch!" Misha amusingly says before he shoves two fingers in, making Miles yell out in pleasure. "You like that, don't you?"

"N-no, please not too hard..." Miles whimpers, arching his back and making sure he's open for his Taewon. One unrestricted hand even reaches down to rub himself.

"You just told me to fúck you like a whóre, so I will!" Misha grunts before spreading his fingers inside, "You kept this hole prepared for Master Farlan, well I'm about to test it out..."

"Wait-... please don't—“

Misha pulls out his finger and replaced them with his cóck, making Miles' fully scream inside the bathroom. Shower séx with clothes on... roleplay... with Taewon, Heidi... oh fúck!

"Ahn! Wait, we'll get in trouble! W... we shouldn't—ugh, we should be doing this!" Miles moans out, meeting Misha's thrust especially when the guy shoved all of himself in without any consideration to Miles' soreness.

"Funny coming from the bítch who was súcking this díck not an hour ago," Misha hisses, groaning while pulling Miles' hips against his díck.

"No... wait, I like your brother...! Vanya...!" Oh how I wish I could scream their real names right now... "Please, not so hard!"

The possessive younger brother only speeds up, shoving Miles's torso against the tiles as he claims the àss. "You get what you ask for! Tell the truth, you're enjoying this, are you?!"

Misha grabs him by the hair, pulling it up and stretching his neck while the other synthetic arm wraps around his stomach to pull him against the fierce gangster. "Tell the fúcking truth... you like being fúcked like the whóre you are, aren't you?"

"No..."

"Liar."

"Ahh-!" Miles moans when Misha touches him down there.

Feels different from a woman's... But since Misha is also a man, he knows how to pleasure this thing as well. But his goal isn't to pleasure Miles, "You're so turned on from me railing your áss, you fúcking homo...",

Miles whines form his throat, but he's actually smiling in pleasure. "Y-yeah... I am homo—oh! Oh ahh... ahhh... wh-what does that... m-make you...?"

"I'm not interested in men. I just want to use your dirty whóre hole," Misha's hand goes up to slap Miles once again, thrusting much more harshly to amplify those moans of pleasured pain. "Now, make me cúm, slút."

I'm about to cúm from your touch... Miles rubs himself under the shower, feeling cold yet warmed up with every skin that is attached on the other. "Nnnh...! Taewon...!"

"What, you're begging in Hindi now? Or is that Italian?" Misha scoffs.

He thinks it's a different language. Misha answers as his own hand speeds up, "Yes! Taewon... Jihun, fúck me! Please Taewon, fúck me!"

"Begging for it, that's right..." Both Misha's hands are now on Miles' shoulder, pulling on them to ram the concubine against his detonating cóck. "Shít! Shít, you whóre! I'm about to-"

"Taewon...! I miss you, please...! Fúck me hard...!" He mumbles in the brothers’ home language, barely audible.

"Shít!" Misha suddenly pulling out in order to release all over Miles' áss which all runs down with the water. "Fúck..."

Misha is feeling something inside, and it's not just pleasure. It's not just climax. When Miles turns around and didn't break eye contact while jacking himself off until his own seed spurts out, Misha didn't stop looking at him as well. Something about those eyes enticed him. Something about hearing those moans, and touching his body...

"Taewon..." Miles' tears were invisible because of the shower, but his eyes were starting to go red and it made his emotions quite obvious.

Misha, who is distracted with his own thoughts, only thought Miles was muttering another language. Shít, I really took advantage of him not wanting to get me in trouble. I fúcked him for the héll of it, but...

He didn't expect that he would like it; séx with a man, séx with Miles Taylor. He didn't expect that his heart would be beating rapidly and there was something familiar with their bodies close like this as well, masked with artificial rain.

If you had chosen this route, the story would've taken this path:

Misha's gang would no longer be Miles' bodyguards, but Misha would watch Miles from afar and sometimes even approach him for séx.

Misha and Miles would have an affair behind Farlan's back before anything is developed with Vanya.

Both routes end up in a SaLuHa love affair in future chapters, the only difference is that they're not Miles' bodyguards, and Miles and Taewon would start their affair way before Vanya could join.

But in this route, the Russian Roulette is a foreshadowing of a future chapter where Farlan plays it with Miles, Vanya, Misha, Nougat, and himself. The bullet hitting the cieling aka not hitting Miles/Misha is an indication of Nougat (w/c isn't in the picture yet) being the one shot by the bullet near the end of the book, instead of the already-introduced ones.

Nougat dies in this route.