The way he answered so nonchalantly made you gulp. "Oh."
Oh, lord.
You could only imagine what went on while you had passed out: Muzan carrying you home, cleaning your vomit and period blood, undressing your sleeping body...
To crawl out of this very awkward confrontation, you subtly inched towards the bathroom door.
You also sent up a string of small prayers.
You hoped that your husband would pretend that last night never happened, would forget about your embarrassments, would never bring this up again, would—
"I need to talk to you."
You stopped dead at Muzan's voice.
Obviously, your husband had forgotten nothing.
"It's about what you said last night," he disclosed.
"H-Huh?" you sputtered.
You unsuccessfully racked your brain for concrete memories of last night's conversations.
What did you say? What did you say? What did you say?!
Feigning innocence, you pointed at yourself. "You want to talk to me?"
Duh, stupid.
There was no one here but the two of you.
Sensing danger, nervous laughter bubbled out of you. "No, you don't."
This was your chance.
You spun around, ready to scram out of the bathroom, the hotel suite, and perhaps out of the hotel itself, even if you were basically butt naked.
At your movement, Muzan's plum-colored eyes immediately flashed in your direction. His long fingers darted out and grabbed firmly at your wrists before you could go.
Compared to his hands, your wrists were small and fragile, his fingers firmly wrapping around them entirely.
You were not used to situations like this, and you sharply inhaled when he squeezed your wrist, his grip not hard but not soft either, perfectly firm.
What should you do now?
You tried to yank your wrists away from him, but he clutched them tighter, rendering you unable to move.
So, he wasn't planning to let you go.
Zoo wee mama, this man's gone insane.
You wouldn't be able to escape, not like this.
"Thirty seconds," Muzan demanded. "Let me have you for thirty seconds."
Your lips parted, drawing in a soft breath. "But, I—"
"You have no idea," your husband interrupted, leaving you no room for negotiations. Your husband's nostrils suddenly flared when he inhaled as though he was doing his best to stay calm. "I've been holding back myself because I wanted to give you 'space' or whatever."
Uh oh, Muzan was mad.
Muzan was mad mad.
As your husband turned away to mutter curses under his breath, water from his wet hair dripped onto your collarbone, snaking down your uncovered chest before hiding behind your lacy bra.
"And then," he gritted through clenched teeth. "You've been kissing some guy I've never met?"
Your breath hitched when memories from last night smacked you left and right.
You were sitting by the bar counter with your husband, inhaling beer like sparkling water, and talking about...
Your kiss with Giyuu.
Holy—
Holy guacamole ravioli milk with coffee cheese spaghetti.
Realizing this, you wanted to screech, cackle, ugly cry, and shapeshift into a mosquito at the same time.
This was not okay, and from your husband's fiery eyes, you could tell that it was not okay for him either.
Time for damage control.
"It was just one peck and an, uh, accident?" you squeaked sheepishly, not making the situation any better. "He's just my best friend."
Muzan placed a massive hand on his massive chest. "And I'm your husband."
He used his other hand on you to slide your hesitant form closer to him, his bare muscles contracting and relaxing as he did so.
When his fingers then flew to your face, you flinched as he inspected you carefully and delicately as though you were a new lab specimen.
"Thirty seconds," he breathed, slender fingers still caressing your cheek. "Give me thirty seconds to do whatever I want to you."
When you shrunk away, Muzan's other hand tightened its grip.
You're trapped.
And you gulped. "Thirty seconds to do what?"
This time, Muzan dipped his head, bringing his face closer to yours.
He was still studying you, using his hand to guide your head from side to side so that he could scrutinize the right side of your face before turning to the left side.
With Muzan inches away, you realized that something about him was different.
Something in his eyes.
In the furnace where a cold fire used to flicker and light your husband's eyes, there was a deep, dark pool of desire.
"To kiss you," he hissed. "To kiss you better than anyone else ever can."
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Longer chapter because READER SUPREMACY <3 I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH.
