"Kiss me."
Minato's voice was quiet, almost casual, but the command landed heavy in the charged air of the bedroom.
Mikasa froze.
She stared at him, lips slightly parted, the deep red lipstick she had just finished applying suddenly feeling like a brand on her mouth.
He never asked her to initiate. He always took.
He always manhandled her, pinned her, claimed her mouth when he wanted it. That was the dynamic she had grown addicted to — being handled, being used, being made to take whatever he decided to give.
Having to step forward and kiss him first, while her husband sat only a few feet away watching, felt far more exposing than anything physical.
She glanced back over her shoulder.
Eren was still in the armchair, body rigid, eyes locked on her. The look on his face was raw — fury, humiliation, and something darker underneath that he couldn't hide.
Heat flooded Mikasa's cheeks.
Shame burned so sharply she almost couldn't breathe. She couldn't hold his gaze. She turned back to Minato, heart hammering.
She moved closer.
Her body pressed fully against his, soft breasts flattening against the hard plane of his chest. Her hands clenched in the front of his shirt as she rose onto her toes and buried her face against the side of his neck instead of his mouth.
She didn't want the red lipstick smeared across his face where Eren would have to see it every second. She wanted the marks lower, hidden, private.
Her lips parted against his throat.
The first kiss was soft, almost hesitant.
Then another.
Then she opened her mouth and sucked lightly at the warm skin, tasting salt and heat. The wet sound of her mouth on his neck filled the quiet room — kiss… soft suck… wet press. She lost herself in it faster than she expected.
The feel of his pulse under her tongue, the solid strength of his body against hers, the way his big hands immediately settled on her lower back and then lower still, spanning her waist and then gripping the bare curves of her ass where the purple lingerie left her completely exposed.
His hands were so large.
She felt small against him, almost fragile, and the contrast made her cunt clench hard inside the thin lace.
She kept kissing his neck, open-mouthed and increasingly hungry, leaving wet trails and faint red marks from the lipstick.
The soft, wet sounds of her mouth grew louder, more urgent — mmph… kiss… suck… wet drag.
She stopped caring that Eren was watching.
The only thing that existed was the man in front of her and the way his hands were roaming freely over her body like he already owned every inch of it.
Minato looked straight at Eren over her shoulder while she worked on his neck.
The smile he gave the other man was slow, smug, and openly victorious.
Eren's hands tightened into fists on the arms of the chair. Rage burned hot behind his eyes.
Not only was this man about to fuck his wife in their marital bed — he was looking at him while she did it, making sure Eren understood exactly who had won.
The power difference between them was absolute. Minato was the ruler of the Land of Fire. Eren was nothing in comparison. He could do nothing but sit there and take it.
Minato's hands tightened on Mikasa's bare ass, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh the lingerie left completely available. He squeezed hard.
Mikasa moaned against his neck — a small, helpless ahnn that vibrated into his skin.
Eren watched the exact moment those big hands claimed his wife's ass like it already belonged to them.
The possessive squeeze, the way Mikasa's body melted into it, the soft moan she couldn't hold back.
Every second of it was deliberate. Minato was doing it for him. Making sure he saw.
Mikasa finally pulled her mouth from Minato's neck. The red lipstick was already smeared across the side of his throat in open, possessive marks.
She looked at his face for a split second, then surged up and kissed him.
Their mouths met in a wet, open clash.
The battle for dominance was immediate. Tongues slid against each other, hot and slick, neither willing to yield.
The sound of the kiss was filthy and continuous — schlick… mmph… wet suck… soft moan. Minato's hands roamed freely now, no longer asking permission.
One stayed locked on her ass, kneading the soft cheeks, spreading them slightly. The other dragged up her side, over her ribs, then back down to grip her thigh and pull her harder against him.
Mikasa moaned into his mouth.
The feel of those large, warm hands moving over her body like he owned every curve made her cunt throb and drip inside the thin purple lace. She wanted more. She needed more.
More. Please. I want more of this.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. She pulled herself up against him, then jumped slightly so both her legs could lock around his waist.
Minato caught her easily, big hands gripping the bare underside of her ass to hold her up, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh as he supported her entire weight.
The position crushed her soapy, cum-streaked breasts against his chest and pressed the burning heat of her cunt directly against the hard ridge of his cock through his pants.
Eren watched his wife climb another man like she belonged there.
She wasn't looking at him anymore. She wasn't caring that he was three feet away.
She was too busy kissing Minato with open, hungry desperation, letting those large hands squeeze and spread her bare ass like he already owned it, like her body was his to handle however he wanted.
The wet sounds of their mouths and the soft, needy moans Mikasa kept feeding into the kiss filled the bedroom.
Minato held her up with effortless strength, fingers digging into her soft cheeks, and looked straight at Eren over her shoulder.
The smile he gave him was pure, unhurried victory.
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