Chapter Text
Taco presses her palms against Mic's chest and pushes her back onto the bed, the way Mic hits the bed, bouncing slightly with those eyes looking up at Taco made the heat pool between her legs. It's powerful… she needs to be more commanding and in control. Taco pulls at her black tie and slots herself in between Mic's legs, she wants to savor this. She gazes down at Mic with a glint of mischief, her old nature surfacing, she lets the tie hang loosely around her neck.
"Mm… How's my Mic feeling?" Taco purrs out, running her fingers through Mic's dark springy hair, lightly tugging at the strands. Her lips form into a small smirk, feeling Mic rest her hands on her waist, rubbing small circles. She pulls at Mic's hair, forcing her to look into her amber eyes. "You wanna have some fun, darling?"
"Mhm, what's gotten into you?" Mic smiles lazily up at Taco, more dreamily at how she looks in a suit with that sharp cut blazer. The way that short choppy brown hair shape Taco's tanned skin perfectly. She's always had a thing with her hair being pulled, and to be graced with Taco doing it to her is always a pleasure. She has always loved seeing Taco in a suit.
"Nothing, just wanted see my girlfriend." Taco mutters, moving her hand from Mic's hair to resting lightly on her shoulder and the other brushing along her jawline, not quite a touch, more of a dare.
"Mhm, right." Mic hums, letting her guide the experience. She rests her hands on Taco's blazer, hesitant on what Taco's doing to her. She wants to ask but wants to enjoy this moment.
"You look nervous," Taco lifts Mic's chin and pecks her cheek, "why aren't you telling me to stop?"
Mic's eyes flicker to her lips before darting away. "Maybe," A peck on the other cheek, she started to rub circles on Taco's waist, "I don't want you to."
That earned Mic a laugh — low, pleased, and entirely unfair. Taco let her thumb trail across Mic's cheek before pressing a quick kiss at the corner of her mouth, then another, deliberately missing her lips each time.
Mic huffs out a breathy laugh. "You're impossible."
"And you love it," Taco softly chuckles, leaning in close to Mic.
The laughter between them softened, leaving the sound of their uneven breaths. Mic's hands rest on Taco's blazer, soothingly rubbing her thumb across the material as she gazes into her eyes. Taco's lips finally captures Mic's in a kiss that was gentle at first, a testing press of warmth.
Microphone exhaled against her, tension melting into something that left her clutching at Taco's waist.
The playful banter gave way to silence — not empty, but charged, every heartbeat speaking louder than words.
The kiss deepens until Mic felt her balance tipping, her hands tightening against Taco's sides as though that alone could steady her. Taco pulled back just enough to smirk, her forehead brushing against Mic's.
"Careful," she murmured, her voice low and teasing. "You'll fall if you keep leaning like that."
"Maybe I wouldn't mind," Microphone whispered back, surprising herself with the honesty.
That earned her another soft laugh. Taco's hand slid down to the small of her back, guiding her gently until Mic leaned back against the mattress. She went willingly, her heart racing as Taco followed, bracing herself above with one arm while her other hand never left Mic's cheek.
The world shrank to the warmth of Taco's body above hers, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the playful spark still dancing in her eyes. Their lips met again, slower this time, lingering in a way that spoke of comfort as much as hunger and playfulness.
Mic slid her hands to Taco's white button up, tugging on the hem of her shirt. Taco shifted her hands to the mattress on either side of Mic's shoulders, holding herself steady as she breaks the kiss to catch her breath. Then Taco catches Mic's lips again and again, starting to grow hot and messy, Taco's grin breaking through between kisses whenever she heard that little hitch in Mic's breath.
Just when Taco thought she had her pinned, Mic pulled back with a sly smirk, brushing her lips close without giving in.
"Is that really all you've got?" She teases, voice low and daring.
Taco froze for a heartbeat, then let out a sharp laugh, more wicked than amused. "Oh, you shouldn't have said that."
She dipped down again, but the kiss this time wasn't soft. It was sharper, angled, claiming. When Mic tried to nip back, Taco caught her wrists and pushed them into the sheets, holding her there just enough to remind her who was really in control.
"You think you can play with me?" Taco murmured against her skin, tracing her mouth along Mic's jaw, lingering close enough to make her shiver but never quite giving her what she wanted. Mic shifted restlessly beneath her, legs tightening, trying to pull Taco closer, but she only chuckled, pulling back when the tension built too high.
The look in Mic's eyes — frustration tangled with need — was everything Taco wanted to see. She leaned in close again, lips brushing the corner of her mouth.
"Tease me again," she whispered, "and I'll make you beg for every second I take away."
Taco kissed her again, slow and deliberate this time, letting her tongue drag across Mic's lower lip just to feel her shiver. When Mic arched upwards, pressing against her with impatience, Taco drew back suddenly, hovering just out of reach.
"Hey—" Mic started, voice sharp with frustration, but Taco cut her off with a sly grin.
"Patience," Taco murmured. Her hands slid from Mic's wrists down to her waist, holding her steady as she leaned in close enough that her breath ghosted over Mic's ear. "You wanted more, didn't you? So I'll decide when you get it."
Mic squirmed, trying to shift her hips to close the distance, but Taco only tightened her grip, laughing softly at the way her partner's face flushed.
"You're enjoying this," Mic accused, her voice shaky, betraying the tremor running through her.
Taco dipped down and pressed a kiss to her throat, lingering just long enough to make her gasp, then pulled away before it could go any deeper. "Of course I am." Another kiss, another pause, this one at the hollow of her collarbone. "You make the cutest sounds when you're worked up."
"Cutest—?!"Mic tried to retort, but the words caught on a sharp inhale when Taco's lips brushed a sensitive spot and then pulled away again. Her fists clenched in the sheets, restless.
Taco pulled back far enough to catch her expression — lips parted, eyes narrowed in equal parts defiance and need. She smirked. "Look at you already." Her hand cups Mic's jaw, thumb brushing over her cheek. "Begging, without even realizing it."
"I am not begging," Mic shot back, though the rasp in her voice betrayed her.
"Not yet." Taco leans in, kissing her once, deeply, then broke it off just as the tension sharpened again. "But you will."
Each time Mic tried to pull her closer, Taco drew back. Each kiss was a tease, a promise cut short. The rhythm built — anticipation cresting higher with every denial, every sudden retreat. Mic's breath grew unsteady, her body tight with urgency, but Taco controlled the pace like a conductor with a symphony, pulling away right when it threatened to overflow.
"Say it," Taco whispers, hovering just above her lips, her grin wicked and triumphant. "Say you want me to let you have it."
Mic's laugh was shaky, defiant even as her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. "You're insufferable."
Taco only chuckled, dragging her lips across Mic's jaw without giving her the satisfaction of another kiss. "Insufferable, maybe. But you'll thank me later."
Taco leans in, brushing Mic's ear. "Round one."
She kissed her again, hard and lingering this time, her weight pressing down just enough to make Mic strain against her. For a moment, it felt like Taco was going to fully give in — her rhythm deepened, her grip tightened — but just as Mic's breath broke into a sharp gasp, Taco stopped. She pulled back, leaving her partner restless, thighs tense and fists clutching the sheets.
Mic groaned. "You can't keep doing that—"
"Sure I can." Taco grinned, brushing her thumb along Mic's flushed cheek. "And I will."
The second cycle started almost cruelly gentle: Taco dragging her lips down Mic's throat, her jaw, her collarbone, each time lingering until Mic's back arched. The moment the tension peaked, Taco withdrew again, sitting back just enough that her grin was in plain sight.
"You're really bad at patience," Taco teases.
Mic shot her a look somewhere between exasperation and hunger. "Maybe because someone's torturing me."
"Mm, torture," Taco hummed, amused, "sounds like you're enjoying it."
By the third round, Mic's composure was cracking. Every denial made her voice raspier, her body restless, and Taco only leaned into that unraveling. She pressed her lips against Mic's once more, let her feel the promise of more, the stopped again, laughing at the frustrated sound that tore out of her.
Taco finally sat back slightly, still straddling the space between Mic's legs. Her grin softened into something sharper, more intent.
"You know what?" She murmured, trailing her fingers down Mic's side, slow enough to make her shiver. "Maybe I should make this easier for myself. You're wearing way too much for me to really punish you properly."
Her hands tugged at the edge of Mic's shirt, deliberately slow, waiting for the sharp intake of breath that followed. She let her palms wander just beneath the fabric, teasing more than removing, dragging out the anticipation the same way she had with her kisses.
Mic's voice broke between a laugh and a whimper. "You're doing this on purpose."
"Of course I am." Taco leaned down, brushing her lips over Mic's jaw as her hands bunched the shirt higher. "You tease me, I tease you back. Only difference is—" she smirked, tugging the shirt further, "—I always win."
The act of undressing her wasn't rushed. Taco pulled the fabric up inch by inch, pausing every time Mic shifted as though she might wriggle free. By the time she finally slipped the shirt over Mic's head, she was grinning at the flushed, restless figure beneath her, utterly in control of both the pace and the reaction.
"Better," Taco whispered, tossing the shirt aside.
Taco sat back on her knees between Mic's legs, letting her eyes sweep slowly over her. She didn't touch at first — just looked, smirk tugging at her lips as if the view alone was part of the game.
The way Mic's charcoal hair is sprawled out on the bed, the flushed cheeks complimenting her tan skin, those pleading eyes looking into her amber ones. If Taco could stare at Mic all day, she would.
"Mm," Taco hums, tilting her head. "Still too covered." Her fingers slid down to the waistband of Microphone's jeans, tugging at the button but deliberately not undoing it. "What do you think? Should I?"
Mic narrows her eyes, cheeks flushed. "If you're gonna, then just—"
The button snapped open before she could finish, but Taco didn't rush. She dragged the zipper down with the infuriating slowness, the rasping sound filling the silence between them. Mic shifted against the sheets, a restless sound caught in her throat.
"You're squirming," Taco notes with mock innocence, curling her fingers into the waistband. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Don't you dare."
That was all the permission Taco needed. She tugged the fabric down just past Mic's hips, then paused — deliberately leaving the jeans and underwear halfway, tangled around her thighs, restricting her movements. Her hands pressed lightly into Mic's waist, holding her still while she dipped down again, kissing along her stomach just above where the denim stopped.
Every time Mic arched up, chasing the contact, Taco shifted lower but never quite where she wanted it. Instead, she would press a kiss to the edge of skin peeking above the waistband, then retreat to drag her mouth across her hip.
"You look good frustrated," Taco purrs, lips brushing close enough to send a shiver racing through Mic. "Maybe I should keep these on you. Half-off. Like a reminder."
Mic let out a half-growl, half-laugh. "You're evil."
Taco smirked, hooking her fingers under the waistband again but not pulling further. "Not evil. Patient. You'll learn." She let her hands trail down, squeezing lightly at her thighs, then withdrew again. Each denial only made Mic's body strain more against the restriction of the jeans still clinging to her legs.
And Taco? She reveled in it. Every gasp, every squirm was another little victory.
Taco let her fingers toy with the denim bunched around Mic's thighs. She leaned down to press one last taunting kiss just above the waistband, then sat back with a mock sigh.
"You're making a mess of yourself like this," she teases, hooking her fingers under the fabric. "Guess I'll do you a favor."
In one slow, deliberate motion, she tugged the jeans down the rest of the way, dragging them off her legs inch by inch as if savoring every twitch and shift from Mic. When the jeans and underwear finally slipped to the floor, Taco tossed them aside with a flourish and settled between her legs again, smirking at her flushed partner.
"There. Much better."
With Mic finally bared, Taco didn't rush to touch. Instead, she hovered above, her hands smoothing over her thighs, deliberately avoiding her core. Every brush of her palm was a near miss, drawing a shaky laugh from Mic.
"Taco…" Mic warned, her voice catching between impatience and plea.
"What?" Taco leaned closer, lips grazing over the inside of her knee, then higher, letting her mouth trail toward the edge of where Mic wanted it most — before pulling away at the last second. "I'm not doing anything."
Taco kissed her way down Mic's stomach, lingering deliberately, until she reached the curve of her hip. She paused there, lips grazing, but didn't move closer. Her hands pressed lightly into Mic's thighs, keeping her open, keeping her waiting.
Mic let out a shaky laugh. "You're dragging this out on purpose."
"Of course I am," Taco replied smoothly, her grin sharp. She leaned in so close to her vulva Mic could feel her breath, then pulled away at the last second possible, placing a kiss lower on her inner thigh instead.
A frustrated groan escaped before Mic could swallow it down. Taco chuckled at the sound, pressing her thumb just against the edge of her clit, then pulling away again. "Too easy," she muttered, "I've barely started."
This time, Taco gave her more. Her kisses landed closer, her thumb making firm circular motions on her clit, the rhythm of her warm tongue steady enough against her that Mic's breath hitched in anticipation. She clutched the sheets, hips jerking upward on instinct, trying to chase the sensation before it disappeared.
Taco stopped again, leaning back on her knees as if she had all the time in the world.
"You've got to be kidding me," Mic gasped, flushed and trembling with need. "You can't just—"
"I can," Taco interrupted lightly, brushing her fingers along her partner's stomach in idle patterns. "And I will. Unless you want to ask nicely."
Mic's glare could have burned holes in her. But the way her body squirmed under Taco's restraint betrayed her more than words ever could.
Taco leans back in and slowly drags her tongue up her vulva to her clit, relishing in the way Mic squirms. Her hand holds onto Mic's hip and lightly rubs her other hand on her inner thigh. She presses it against her clit more firmly then presses her lips against it, sucks and holds onto it keeping it there, then uses her tongue to massage the bud.
Mic begins to pant at the warm tingling sensations that resonate deep inside her, the pleasure building and she tenses her legs. Those waves crashing over her grows in size and intensity, a moan threatening to slip. Then everything stops.
Taco leans back, wiping the back of her hand across her lips with a smirk, as if she'd just stepped away from a finished job instead of leaving Mic trembling and half undone.
Mic drags in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling quickly. "You can't just keep—," She cuts herself off, jaw tightening as though saying more would hand Taco too much satisfaction.
But Taco caught the crack anyway. "Keep what? Stopping right when you're about to lose it?" Her voice was maddeningly calm. She dragged her fingers lazily across Mic's thigh, light enough to tickle, nowhere near enough to satisfy. "That's the fun part."
Mic groaned and threw her head back against the sheets, a frustrated laugh slipping out despite herself. "You're evil."
Taco crawled on top of her, bending low until their noses nearly touched, her grin sharp and smug. "Not evil. Just teaching you how to listen." She kissed Mic once, quickly, then pulled away before she could lean into it. "And by the look on your face… lesson's sinking in."
Her glare was weak now, half-buried under the flush painting her skin and the restless shifting of her body. The tension wound tighter, her patience unraveling. Taco could see it — and she was going to push her until it broke.
Taco goes back in between her legs, breathing against her vulva and dives back in. Only this time, she drags her tongue around Mic's entrance while her thumb circles her clit agonizingly slow but steady. Up and down the vulva, occasionally dipping her tongue inside. Fast and slow, her thumb circles the bud.
Mic's composure was unraveling. Her breaths came ragged, her thighs tensed with every action and sensation. Taco drew it out mercilessly and she pulls away — her mouth hovering, her hands keeping her pinned down when she tried to move closer.
"Please—" The word slipped out before Mic could stop it, strangled and half a groan.
Taco froze, a slow grin spreading across her face. "There it is." She leaned in again, lips brushing the inside of her thigh. "I knew you'd break."
Mic groaned, half in frustration, half in surrender. "You're — you're awful."
"Awful?" Taco teases, dipping closer only to stop again. "No. I'm in charge. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner I might let you have what you want."
Her tone was playful, but her control was absolute. Each denial now wasn't just physical — it was a tug-of-war between their stubbornness and desire, one Mic was seconds away from losing.
Now Mic is trembling, her voice cracked from the effort of holding back. The small suppressed whimpers that escape and tiny leg twitches. She's already slipped once, begging without meaning to, and Taco has reveled in every second.
This time, Taco doesn't pull away. Her rhythm steadies, her teasing sharpens to something relentless.
"You've earned it," Taco breathed against her heat, her voice low but firm. "Now let go."
Mic finally breaks, a mix of relief and surrender, her body arching as if all that build-up tension had snapped at once. Taco doesn't look away, drinking in the sight, satisfied that she's kept her dangling until the very last second.
Mic collapsed back against the sheets, chest heaving, strands of charcoal hair sticking to her flushed face. She looked wrecked — and she knew it.
Taco stretched out beside her with all the smugness in the world, propping her head up on one hand as she studied her handiwork. After a beat of silence, she leaned in and kissed the corner of Mic's lips, soft and fleeting.
"Told you I'd win," she whispered, grin spreading.
Mic groaned, throwing an arm across her face. "I hate you." Her voice was hoarse, unconvincing.
"You don't hate me," Taco countered smoothly, brushing her fingered along Mic's arm before tugging it gently away from her face. "You're just mad I was right."
Another groan, this one muffled against the pillow, made Taco laugh quietly. She pressed another kiss, this time to her temple, and finally eased back, letting her partner breathe.
"Get used to it," Taco purred, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "Because I'm never letting you forget how good you look when you lose."
Despite herself, Mic let out a tired laugh, snuggling into the warmth. "You're insufferable."
"Maybe," Taco said lightly, resting her chin on Mic's shoulder. "But I'm your insufferable."