[ He hears it and sees it and feels it, the sweet experience of victory. Mello's fallen hook, line, and sinker, which is exactly why a plan of patience in luring his prey will always be the one he employs. He'd be a hypocrite to say he never rushed into battle, into a situation without thinking, but sex was different. Sex required a different strategy, cool, calm, and calculating, and it's clearly worked to his benefit here.
Not that he's any of those things now, tongue dueling furiously with Mello's, arcing into the nails pressing into his scalp and encouraging them to bite deeper, because pain is something he likes, something he needs in these sorts of interactions, and Mello needs to hurt him more, it's what people like them deserve, after all, it's only fair.
Setsuna chases after those lips once they escape, because good hunters never let their prey go, pin it and ravage it until it no longer draws breath, but Mello reignites the spark of conflict and it's war all over again.
And then Mello snatches his blade, his, no one else's, and everything goes downhill from there.
His pupils dilate, black to blot out the gold, and he hisses sharply. No, Mello. His self-control snaps, Mello's arm is snapped accordingly (he's not sure if he's broken bone, doesn't think so, but also doesn't care), and even if he winds up nicking himself in the process, he lunges forward with a bite to seize Mello's wrist between his jaws, the wrist has his blade his to sink his teeth into and force a drop.
Drop it, Mello. Now.This is playing nice, and he's not going to warn you a second time. ]
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Not that he's any of those things now, tongue dueling furiously with Mello's, arcing into the nails pressing into his scalp and encouraging them to bite deeper, because pain is something he likes, something he needs in these sorts of interactions, and Mello needs to hurt him more, it's what people like them deserve, after all, it's only fair.
Setsuna chases after those lips once they escape, because good hunters never let their prey go, pin it and ravage it until it no longer draws breath, but Mello reignites the spark of conflict and it's war all over again.
And then Mello snatches his blade, his, no one else's, and everything goes downhill from there.
His pupils dilate, black to blot out the gold, and he hisses sharply. No, Mello. His self-control snaps, Mello's arm is snapped accordingly (he's not sure if he's broken bone, doesn't think so, but also doesn't care), and even if he winds up nicking himself in the process, he lunges forward with a bite to seize Mello's wrist between his jaws, the wrist has his blade his to sink his teeth into and force a drop.
Drop it, Mello. Now. This is playing nice, and he's not going to warn you a second time. ]