Lesson Two – Blind Hunger
Mello couldn't stand when women didn't eat. And, it wasn't a something that was just a minor annoyance, like being out of chocolate, or being disobeyed. It drove him absolutely mad, seeing women pick at food or smile and say they weren't hungry while their bodies looked as if wind could send them flying like a leaf.
And Layla was the worst of all.
She never ate, ever. She'd usually have something light, maybe an apple and skyr but nothing more. Then she'd spend the rest of the day smoking and painting something, either pictures or those long nails Mello had come to attribute as kitten claws.
Mello had always had a small fear of starvation, that had started very early with his mother. His mother, Anzhela Keehl, was Prima Ballerina for the Russian Ballet before her untimely murder when Mello was seven. His mother hardly ever ate, she exercised constantly instead, stretching pale limbs in front of a mirror and dancing along to Tchaikovsky. He recalled spending many hours sitting in her dancing studio that was attached to the house. He remembered his mother's pale beauty, her long slender neck, petite torso and waist, shapely legs, and slender, perfect feet.
He had always been a spoiled boy, constantly given Syrniki at his pestering of the cook and servant to keep him quiet. He'd often tried to share the sweet with his mother when she took a break from dancing and would play with him. As always she'd pat his head and tell him to enjoy the food for himself.
But one day, Mello had walked in on something that had sparked his deep obsession with food. As a ballerina, especially one under such pressure as Anzhela, she was to keep her body at eighty five pounds exactly, no higher or lower. Due to this pressure, Anzhela had fallen on an old ballet staple. Tissue paper.
To keep her perfect figure, Anzhela would eat tissue paper. It digested easily, and kept her full, therefore there was no worry about gaining weight.
When Mello had walked in on his mother eating the said paper it had surprised him to say the very least. She tore the strips apart in her elegant, dainty way, folding each bit into a tiny square and placing it on her tongue.
Even at age six, Mello had known better than to announce he had seen what she was doing, and instead backed out of the room and told the only other person he knew she would listen to, his father. When he had told his father exactly what he had seen, he'd enfolded Mello in a hug and told him not to worry. However, he did worry. Constantly. Although he was very smart for a six year old boy, he was often subject to delusions of fantasy such as the wind picking his mother up and blowing her far out of his reach. He began eating incessantly, not enough to gain weight, but enough for his father to crack jokes about him becoming a pastry chef.
This obsession was worsened after Mello's parents had died and he was sent to the orphanage in Moscow. Food there was very scarce, and to survive, you fought for your share of bread, the boys who didn't fell sick and did not return.
Perhaps that was why he constantly worried about Layla's eating habits. The way she ate reminded him sometimes of his mother. Although she had never exactly ate paper, she ate very sparsely and as a result was thin enough in such a way for Mello to elicit concern.
At four feet and eleven inches Layla was about one hundred pounds. There were never really any signs of ill nutrition and she was curvy enough for Mello to push worrying at the back of his mind. It was difficult though, for Mello to accept any view that was different than his own. As a child, even though his mother scarcely ate she'd always taught him that food was a gift and that to see it make him happy, it made God happy to see him eat healthily. (Although later in life he'd always suspected this was really just a ploy to get him to eat cabbage, which he hated.)
Layla however did not agree to this set of thinking whatsoever. To her, food was often an unfortunate means of survival, and occasionally a subject of cruelty. Her mother would often force her to undergo religious fasting and as a result Layla had turned her hatred of fasting into hatred of food, and in her adult life Mello only suspected she at enough to remain healthy, nothing more, nothing less.
So, he couldn't exactly help it when the next morning after their little session in the mirror he couldn't help but look dissatisfied when he watched her nibble on a small amount of toast with coffee.
"I really wish you'd eat something more." he muttered, shooting her a dissatisfied glance when he walked into the tiny kitchen, leather pants slung loosely around his waist.
"Oh god. Don't start that Mello." she muttered, sipping on the tea and reading contentedly over the paper.
She was in underwear and that silk robe she loved so much, which she hadn't bothered to tie. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, long strands of brown still lingering in her face and he noted with slight affection that she was wearing his mother's comb he had given her years ago on her ninth birthday when they were still at Wammy's.
Usually he was grouchy as hell in the mornings, but today, he just doesn't have the energy. Instead he leaned over her shoulder, getting an appreciative eyeful of her cleavage. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and he pretended to be very interested in the latest fashions.
However after a few moments of this Layla couldn't help but notice Mello's hands slyly sliding in between her thighs.
"Mello."
"Hmm?"
"Take your hands out of my knickers."
He let out another annoyed sigh and removed his hands. Mello nuzzled her neck appreciatively, letting his tongue dart out to taste her skin.
"Mello." she said slowly, a sign he recognized quickly as a warning that she was about to start a fight with him if he didn't stop his antics.
In typical Mello fashion, he immediately began quipping her about her eating habits.
"You should eat more than toast." he sneered nastily.
"You should think about something other than sex." she replied shortly.
He glared at her, then let out a huff of disproval, "You think about sex too!"
She flipped a page of the newspaper and sighed, her tone becoming now a little more strained. "I do."
"Well why don't you want to?" he asked, now becoming frustrated as well. Usually no matter what time of day it was Layla jumped at the chance to have sex. Now that she wasn't, it was a small blow to Mello's pride, and that was something the mafioso held quite sacred.
"Because I've just woken up thirty minutes ago. I want to gather my thoughts." she said softly, taking another sip of coffee and finishing off the crust of toast.
"You have perfect memory!" he whined, "There's no reason you need to gather your thoughts, aren't they just filed away in little drawers or something?"
"Fine. I just want to gather my feelings about what we did yesterday." she sniffed.
Blue eyes widened in surprised, and Layla's fist clenched when she heard the soft sound of Mello's laughter.
"I don't see what's so funny!" she snipped.
"What's there to think about?" he sniggered, "We fucked in front of a mirror. That's all. It's not like we were doing it in front of a video camera."
She pinched the bridge of her nose with her long nails, "You tried to get me to do that too."
"So I got the mirror, so you wouldn't worry about news headlines: Prodigy Painter Gone Wild." he said, now shaking with laughter again.
"That's not my problem!" she snapped, pushing past him to wash her dishes.
"So what is it, then?" he purred, pressing his body firmly against her back.
"You said lesson two would begin today," she mumbled, shaking the soap from her hands. "I know how you are Mello, and I know you have something that'll throw me out of my comfort zone, like usual."
"Mmm." he said, taking a few moments to trail his hands up her ribcage, "Such a good memory you have. I'd forgotten."
It was true too, he had forgotten about his promise, but now he already had the perfect idea in mind.
"Oh lovely," she sneered. "I just reminded you of something when it could have just been a normal session."
Mello looked thoughtful, then snaked a finger up Layla's side, "Play with me, little kiska, if you do, I'll pamper you all day."
The word pamper definitely caught Layla's attention. When Mello said he'd pamper, he meant it. It was a rare, rare occurrence but sometimes Mello would set aside his pride enough to lavish her in sexual affection. He'd kiss her slow, trail his fingers down her body, giving her orgasm after orgasm with his own luscious body. Usually however, to get this treatment from Mello, Layla would have to do various sucking up to his ego, which was hard for her.
"All day?" she said questioningly, glancing at him.
He exhaled against her neck, making her skin damp with perspiration. "Yes. All day." His tongue slipped against the tender shell of her ear, making her whimper and a subtle promise of things to come.
"Okay." she agreed, her hand sliding up to press his neck against hers.
"Good girl." he hissed, and Layla winced, wondering exactly what he had in store for her.
The next thing she knew, Mello had covered her eyes with a black cloth that had seemingly been procured out of nowhere. Her first reaction to the treatment was initially panic. Being deprived of a sensation such as her sight was enough to make her heart rate speed up rapidly. She forced herself not to struggle, forced herself to trust in Mello.
She could feel the rough pad of Mello's thumb press gently against the artery in her neck and she heard the soft cluck of his tongue.
"Calm down, I'm not going to torture you or anything." he purred.
Then she could hear soft footsteps and she realized that he had moved a little farther away from her.
"Come to me." he said, and a soft shiver ran up her spine at the command in his tone.
But, the lack of sight had made her wary, cautious, and a little afraid.
"Mello," she whined, "I can't see."
"Follow my voice." was his soft reply, "Rely on your other senses."
She grumbled something, then stood very still. She could hear the faint dripping of the faucet just behind her, the soft plunking of water almost enough to make her frustrated. The refrigerator was buzzing too and she huffed a little.
"Mello, what on earth does this have to do with sex?"
Now, she could hear the faint annoyance in his tone. "Find me with your body, not your eyes."
Silence befell her again and she tried to listen, past the refrigerator, past the drip of the tap and her own shaky heartbeat. Then she could hear it, the light easy sound of his breathing, the squeak of the floorboards as he shifted his weight.
The floorboards sounded close and she felt a bit stupid when she realized he was scarcely two feet away from her.
Slow and deliberate were her footsteps and she paid attention to the sound of his breathing, so even, and calm. Now, she was close enough to smell his scent, something that seemed almost naturally familiar to her. The scent of heady chocolate and his own musk, seeming scant inches away from her.
Tentatively she reached out a hand, and was met by Mello's fingers, rough and warm. He clasped her hand and pulled her into him.
"Good." he purred.
She was distracted though, by the feeling of his fingertips, now that they slid against the back of her neck, following the edge of her robe a little playfully. Layla was rewarded now with the faint feeling of his lips on her own and she found herself fascinated by the feeling of them. His lips were slightly chapped, the thin, rough edges of skin scraping against her own.
His taste too was pleasing and it took her a moment to realize he was passing her a slightly melted square of chocolate on his tongue. That was enough to make her smile against his mouth. She knew this game well. She let the square melt a tiny bit more before passing the candy back into his waiting mouth.
Over and over they played this passing game until the chocolate square was melted and all that was left was the taste of sugar on their tongues.
When he pulled away, she couldn't help but whimper a little at the loss of contact.
She was thankful when he lead her towards the couch and eased her to sit down.
Now she could feel him crouch before her and the faint snap of chocolate alerted her to his actions.
But, she didn't expect him to pop the chocolate in her mouth.
"You don't eat enough." he chided, his voice soft.
The taste of chocolate was surprisingly sweet and bitter on her tongue as she chewed, eager to please Mello more, aching for him to touch again.
"I'll be back in just a moment." he murmured.
She could hear him move away into the kitchen and she heard the opening and closing of the refrigerator before he returned to now sit beside her. The smell of him flooded her nose and she felt the familiar wetness dampen her panties.
The crinkling of plastic alerted her, along with the warmth of Mello's tone.
"Open your mouth."
She did as he commanded and was surprised when something slightly cold was placed against her lips. Layla passed her tongue over the slightly textured object and realized faintly that it was a strawberry.
"Bite." Mello said again.
Strawberry juice flooded her mouth as she chewed.
The strawberries were good but not what she wanted, she wanted Mello's taste in her mouth, the achingly sweet saltiness of his skin.
He fed her a few more strawberries this way, then set the plastic container on the floor.
She was once again rewarded with his mouth on hers and she moaned into the kiss.
He pulled back, teasingly, "I thought you weren't in the mood earlier."
"Don't be so stingy then," she hissed in reply, nipping sharply at his bottom lip, hoping to spur his pride and force him to shove her back on the couch.
However, Mello was hatefully in control of this situation.
He nipped at her lip as well, biting down a little harder than she did with him. "We're not playing like this today." he said, once he had let go. "If you play like this, then I'll make you wait."
It was a threat that Layla had no doubt he would fulfill.
She licked the bottom of his lip in apology and he smiled against her.
"Good girl."
Placing his hands on her shoulders Mello freed her from the confines of her silk robe. On instinct she shivered at the feeling of the silk sliding down her skin and let out a pathetic whimper when his hands toyed with her over her bra.
His touches were hatefully light and she tried to push herself against his hand.
"Vocalize." Mello murmured, "Since I can't see your expression, tell me what you want."
She bit her lip. That was hard. Layla was incredibly shy when it came to sex with the blond mafioso, and vocalizing something other than "Oh god yes." was very difficult for her.
"What do you want?" Mello asked, still touching her with that hateful softness.
"Hard...harder." she bit out, privately thankful he could not see the flush on her face and embarrassment in her eyes.
"My touches?" he questioned.
"Yes." she whispered, nodding.
He stroked her through the cloth now with a renewed firmness and she sighed in pleasure, letting her head loll on his shoulder.
If it had worked before...perhaps asking him for more wouldn't hurt.
"Take off my bra, and then touch me." she purred in his ear, pleased that she could feel his cheek warm up against her own.
He did as she requested, slowly unclasping the offending article and tossing it aside before tweaking the buds on her breasts with light force.
"Like this?" he murmured, kissing the underside of her ear lightly.
She answered him with a moan, her nails digging into his chest and she could feel him smirk lightly against her.
"What else do you want?" he asked.
"Put your mouth on me."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
He did as she requested then too, lavishing her shoulders with kisses. Then, he was moving downwards to suckle on her breast lightly before moving back upwards. He lightly kissed the scar that lay over her face, dragging his tongue over it lightly.
The sensitivity there was heightened and with the added deprivation of sight Layla could feel herself becoming almost painfully aroused.
Now Mello's hand had slipped over her panties and he worked her lightly through the cloth.
"So impatient." he whispered against her lips, "You're aching for me, again, aren't you?"
She couldn't do anything but nod against his chest, trying to ignore the beads of sweat that had gathered on her skin as he teased her lightly.
She recognized the touches as the same ones he had taught her the previous day and she bit her lip anxiously in wait for the firmer touch that came every so often.
"Please, Mello, please." she was begging again and he let out a soft laugh.
"I love when you beg." he said softly, "Of course, that could just be my arrogance talking. What do you want me to do to you?"
"Take me." she whimpered, "Please take me."
He nipped at the soft skin of her earlobe, then spoke softly and she could tell he was trying not to show how much he was aching for her. "How do you want me to do that? Since you've been such a good girl I'll let you pick."
The darkness of the blindfold allowed her to fully imagine each scenario. Did she want him to take her slowly? Like she had imagined earlier in the morning? Slow and achingly sensual. Or did she want him to take her fast and heated, rough kisses and slamming into her with little groans. That was the kind of sex that left her thighs twitching and a pleasant fullness in her belly.
"Hard." she said after a moment, then she heard the soft sound of his chuckling.
"Good. You weren't really going to have a choice anyway." he sneered teasingly and she was too distracted by her want to argue with him.
Mello was kind enough to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom, perhaps fearing that it would take too long to have her walk there in her blindfolded state.
After a moment he set her on the bed, and she lay back, listening to him removing his pants. Then, she heard the crinkle of foil, and she realized he must have been slipping on a condom. After a moment, he crawled over her and her hands reached upwards to pull off the blindfold.
"No." he hissed in her ear. "This lesson is not done."
He pulled off her panties roughly, his nails lightly scraping her skin and she barely had time to think before he spread her legs and entered her.
As she wanted, the thrusts were rough and fast, making her moan his name softly.
Being blindfolded certainly had made the sex feel different as well. Instead of finding herself aroused by his expressions, Layla found she was becoming aroused by the feelings. The aching as she clenched around him and the way his fingers dipped to control her pace.
She felt him move downwards to kiss her neck and she moaned again, using this opportunity to slip her hands around his neck.
He slammed into her repeatedly and soon enough she was crying out for him, begging for more. His fierce panting against her neck was reply enough and she was openly sobbing by the time her muscles spasmed around him.
He thrusted a few more times before she felt the hairs at the nape of his neck grow damp and he groaned loudly, and pushed deep into her.
Then, there was silence.
It seemed odd, that the air that was so permeated with sighs and moans could now suddenly go so quiet.
Layla felt him tighten his arms around her and he rolled the two of the over until she was resting contentedly on his chest, listening to the peaceful thump of his heartbeat and the slow, shallow breaths he was taking.
Then she felt his hand reach up to untie the blindfold. The cloth fell away onto his chest but his hand stayed, stroking at her cheek gently while he gazed mildly off into space.
The bedroom thankfully was still darkened and Layla guessed that it was still very early in the morning.
Crawling upwards she kissed Mello's cheek, "You still have to pamper me. You promised."
"I do." he agreed. "First, let me feed you breakfast."
"Why?" she snorted, "I've already eaten."
"It'd be rather tragic if the wind blew you away."