𝘗𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘧 ||R6s

⛓Ch 4: Taste⛓

📁 file is opening. . . . . . .

one moment please. . .

access granted 📂

" Mine, and only mine "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sometimes rough is nice, sometimes tender is better.

Right now Maxim is drunk off a too stupid of a kiss to choose which he likes better, he likes the feeling of (Y/n)'s hand's kneading his sides, the feeling of lips against his neck that drag up and the feeling of teeth ghosting over his jaw.

And-

"Goddamn you (L/n)!!" Maxim whisper yells when (Y/n) finally pushes them both into the closet, locking the door behind them with expert hands as Maxim is half holding on and half walking on his own. A leg over (Y/n)'s hip and the other holding up some of his weight (if it weren't for the firm hand under his ass that pushed him up to stand, Maxim swears he'd topple over), hands digging into (Y/n)'s blazer as his own was falling off his shoulders. Tie a mess and lips swollen, kiss bitten.

Maxim's trying to organize what he's feeling, his chest is tight in fear, his heart is beating rapidly while he feels his face flush, and yet he's annoyed for being treated like a toy.

But. . . 

"You liked that, didn't you?"

Maxim sinks back, trying to tuck himself away from the heavy gaze of the mercenary, hold becoming a little slacked as (Y/n) uses a hand to gently pick his gaze by holding his chin, forcing him to look up at him. The smug expression he has on is dangerous, Maxim can tell.

He knows his name, something that was to be kept confidential from him no matter what. 

". . . Don't" Maxim pulls out of his throat, the fear in his chest now residing itself in his stomach, clawing from the inside out as the residual dopamine of being held in such an intimate manner started to fade.

"I could toss you around some more, show you who really is boss, who really holds the reins here" Cruel words contrast against the loving touches that (Y/n)'s leaves on Maxim's skin, hands trailing up into his shirt and pushing it up a little. Maxim instinctively places his hands on (Y/n)'s forearms, he's unsure, and despite the fear of (Y/n) lacking boundaries, he watches as the mercenary pulls back. Gaze softening to something almost. . . teasing.

Maxim bites back a chain of curses to yell at the (h/c)-ette for telling him such things.

"Head up, princess" (Y/n) gently slaps his cheeks, making Maxim harden his gaze while (Y/n) leans forward, whispering into his ear "- I'd treat you real good, you need that." Which sent a full body shiver down Maxim's spine, he was being offered. 

Kisses are peppered down his neck, biting at a bruise that was blossoming by the middle-left of his neck which pulled a groan from Maxim who scrunched his face up. Tethering on the thin sense of pride and dignity he still has left, he's putty in the mercenary's hands for some reason.

"I'll be nice with you, you must be so tired princess" (Y/n) proposes as he gently threads his finger around the belt loop of Maxim's pants, slowly making his way to firmly plant themselves on Maxim's belt buckle "Turn you around and shove you to the floor, ass up, all mine, all because you deserve nothing more but some sweet love" 

There's something to his words, something that's fogging Maxim's head up, opening his mouth when he feels (Y/n)'s (s/c) thumb run on his bottom lip-

"Bandit to Kapkan, how are those exit traps looking?"