"You think I care if you're ready?" he huffed in a low growl, hungry eyes locked on your unintentionally parted lips.
Gulp.
"Uh...Maybe you should care?"
"Thirty seconds," he stressed again through gritted teeth, breaths warming your already hot cheeks. "Thirty seconds is all I need with you."
There was a long silence as he waited for your reply, and you eventually convinced yourself that thirty seconds—just thirty seconds—couldn't hurt.
"Fine," you sighed, carefully tearing your gaze away from his glowing eyes. "One Mississippi, Two Missi—"
Muzan silenced you with his lips.
Tilting your head towards his, your husband delved into your mouth, his tongue hungrily savoring every taste of every corner he could reach within you.
He'd been starved. He'd been desperate.
And he was everywhere.
There was no way that Muzan could keep himself off of you.
Muzan's lips kept surrounding yours, teeth clashing, breath churning, as a tangled concoction of pent-up passion and lust sparked like a greedy flame ready to set the world on fire.
His strong hands then fell from your face, instead roaming down the curve of your waist and your hips with rough touches before your husband decided to cup your bottom.
He started groping you, squeezing you in a frustrated fervor.
Nothing seemed to be enough.
Your husband grabbed your thighs and lifted you onto the marble bathroom counter. Even when your back pressed against the cold, hard mirror, he never once broke away from your lips.
If this was what real kisses were, this was nothing close to your meek peck with Giyuu.
You were floundering, absolutely vulnerable.
All you could do was crumble to his attack, gripping the hard muscles of his forearms as you struggled to process all the sensations he was building in you.
Any and all conscious thoughts flew out of your mind in the presence of Muzan's invasion.
When your husband eventually peeled away from you, his chest heaved as he panted heavily by your shoulder.
And, you were trying to breathe, too.
There was a long, reflective silence that hung in the room, only stirred by the huffs for air that filled the room before they slowly dissipated.
"I, uh, think that was more than thirty seconds?" you ultimately peeped.
Muzan shot a glare in your direction.
"You'd think I'd really keep my promise?" he fumed. "After everything you did to me?"
Hey, everything you did wasn't that bad.
All you did was kiss another man behind your husband's back and then puke all over his lap.
Hold up.
Never mind, those things were pretty bad.
"What else do you want from me?" you squeaked, voice quavering from a mix of guilt and fright.
Muzan immediately brought a hand to your hip, hooking an index finger at the band of your underwear.
He stretched the elastic as far as he could before releasing it at its furthest point. When the waistband snapped against your hip, you winced.
But Muzan liked that.
So he did it again, over and over and over as a crazy look lighted in his eyes.
"You know what I really want to do?" he whispered by your ear, sending a shot of electricity through your veins. "My 'special plans.'"
Hearing the familiar phrase made your blood run a little hotter, your heart beat a little faster.
Muzan had plans for the honeymoon all along?
Your husband chuckled darkly. "I want many things. I want your mind. Your strength. Your heart." He pulled at the hem of your bra. "I want this up." His fingers then tugged again at the hem of your underwear. "I want these down."
Placing his hands on your waist, he continued, "I want to feel your skin on fire. I want to feel your heart racing next to mine, and I want to know it's racing because of me, because you want me, and because you never want me to stop."
All your thoughts had sputtered and stopped, but Muzan kept going.
"Every part of you," he huffed. "Every second with you. I want your everything."
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