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“Come here.”
He makes a demand, a demand you have no choice but to obey.
Mello lounges back in his chair, arms resting lazily on the sides. He’s got his legs spread wide over the space he occupies, one of them propped up on top of the other by his ankle. You know exactly what he’s doing, and you can feel yourself falling for his trap. He’s fully aware of how inviting this position looks, how enticing the comfort of his lap is. Those things are utilized to his advantage.
As soon as you reach him, he swings the leg on top away, opening up a seat for you. His arms grab onto your waist, pulling you backward.
“Good girl,” Mello whispers, his teeth finding their place latched around the bottom of your ear. His hands wander, lifting up the bottom of the jacket you’re wearing, feeling your skin.
Mello gets the privilege of being fully clothed. The intention is clear; he wants to tease you, wants you to wish to be granted the honor of seeing his naked body, an honor he was sure to deny. All the while, he gets to see something beautiful in front of him.
All you wear is one of his precious leather jackets and black underwear to match. Everything else is on full display, waiting to be admired and touched.
The sight of you in his clothes … he doesn’t much feel like telling you what it does to him. He’d rather show you.
“You’ll be good for me, won’t you? Don’t be too loud.”
“I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Mmhm. Prove it.”
Without any other warning, one of his hands slides down your stomach, reaching into your underwear. His fingers slide inside you hard, bringing out a harsh cry, prompted by the lack of patience and sudden nature of his movements.
“Not doing so good on your promise so far, baby girl,”
He teases, the tone of his voice playful. Mello loves the power he has over you, the simplicity of it all, so easy to make you moan.
If only the two of you had the freedom to be as loud as you pleased.
“You don’t make it easy.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Not waiting for an answer, Mello starts rubbing at you harder, his fingers massaging deep inside.
Your back arches out of instinct.
“You like that, huh? Such a whore for me …”
His fingers are his greatest weapon, capable of doing so much in so little time. He knows all the best spots, the right way to pace himself. And if that can be considered his best weapon, his second-best has to be his mouth, that sharp tongue that produces all the right words at the exact right time.
Your head falls back.
He’s so gorgeous, you think to yourself. I’m so lucky.
Mello has little desire to keep things slow. His fingers work hard, fucking into you with passion, ferocity, and greed. He wants to claim you, showing you just who was in charge of the situation.
The feeling is overwhelming. Your hands reach back, trying hard to steady yourself by using his hips as something to hold onto. Squirming against his touch only makes his fingers rub harder, determined to test you, to locate your limit, and push you far past it.
“Mello, please …”
“Please? Giving up already?”
His lips move to your neck. After all, it looks so pretty, all exposed like that, like a nice slice of cake just waiting to be consumed.
He kisses all the perfect places, all the sweet spots that he can locate. And when he grows bored of that, he allows his teeth to graze lightly over the sensitive skin before biting down. You need to be marked, a requirement to appease Mello’s possessive nature, though you’d never complain about being given such sensual attention.
His bites bring out whimpers. The sensation of his lips pressed to your neck makes it impossible to hold them back, and you know he secretly loves them anyways.
It’s a shame he can’t allow you to keep filling the air with your delicious whining.
Since that’s out of the question, Mello slides his free hand over your neck, only stopping when he reaches your mouth. His first temptation is to shove his fingers inside, past your lips. For once, on a rare occasion, he shows you mercy and settles on covering your mouth, holding on tight to prevent any sound from coming out.
“Go on … try and disobey me now.”
There’s a smirk on his face, proud that he's taken away the one advantage you could possibly have over him.
He returns his lips to your neck, tongue licking right over the spots where fresh marks are forming. His hand maintains such a tight grip on your face, his fingers digging into the skin of your cheek and jaw, not particularly caring, but rather wishing for even more marks to cover your body.
“Whose pretty whore are you?”
It’s frustrating not being able to give an answer. All you can manage is grabbing hold of part of his shirt and yanking on it multiple times, the best signal you can imagine.
“That’s what I thought.”
Kissing at your neck once more, his fingers rub at you even harder, ridiculously fast.
This time, you don’t fight against his wishes. You stay quiet, simply squirming beneath him, writhing around with nowhere else to go and no foreseeable way to relieve the tension building up rapidly.
“Will you be good now?”
You respond with a series of aggressive nods, sure to get the message across loud and clear.
“I’ll trust you, sweetheart. Only one more chance.”
The hand on your mouth is retracted. His request is hard to fulfill. All you want is to cry out, to moan his name, and let the whole world know just exactly who it is that’s making you feel like this.
Mello fucks you with those fingers so enthusiastically that tears well up in your eyes, so overcome with pleasure, so impressed yet again by his ability to do everything just right, just the way you want.
You can feel yourself reaching your limit.
Breathless, you tilt your head back, close to his face.
“Baby … I’m gonna cum … can’t take it anymore.”
He laughs softly, hand forcefully grabbing your chin hard, pulling your face to look directly into his eyes.
“Oh, I don’t think so … not yet. Not until you beg.”
This is absolutely something you should’ve expected. Mello has to be the one to claim victory, and though that much was already his, this is his victory lap, smothering you with seductive smugness.
You’re more than willing to indulge in his fantasies, if not for his sake, but for your own, for the sake of getting his permission.
“Please, please, please, baby … Let me cum,” You cry out, keeping your voice at an acceptable level, not wanting to invoke his playful annoyance once more.
“Why should I let you?”
By now, his fingers come sliding in and out of you in such rapid succession, such deep penetration, that it’s a miracle you’ve even managed to last this long.
“I’ll do anything … anything.”
That’s a promise, a vow, a declaration. He can have his way with you to full capacity so long as he grants you this one act of generosity.
“Alright, alright. Cum for me, make a mess all over my fingers.”
His words make the process easy. Arousal ripples through your body, sending a shiver down your spine as your orgasm hits.
Just as requested, Mello finds his fingers covered. He pulls his hand away, leaving you to try and recover, legs shaking from the sheer power behind everything that just occurred. Your high hit you hard, harder than it ever had before.
And just when you think he can’t get any more attractive, he takes his coated fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean just as he would if he was eating a chocolate dessert.
“Think you’ve earned a reward,” He whispers, leaning in to kiss you, having you taste yourself at the same time he does.
“Oh, yes. A reward.”
You can barely think about what that will entail.
After all, you’re still processing the gift he’s just given you.