You Right — MM

You right — MM

AUTHOR: im exhausted but @mercedesjpg is my friend so here you go bby

SUMMARY: […] I got a man but I want you […]

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw content, cheating ig

“Lost your boyfriend, darling?” Mason slips past you, his hands on your waist as he makes room for himself. You gulp, chugging down the alcohol in hopes the brit is leaving soon. You don’t trust yourself around him.

“He’s playing beer pong with the others.” For some reason you feel like you owe him any explanation and it shows a lot about the type of relationship you two share. Mason smirks behind his cup, nodding. He’s always thought there’s something between you two and— as ironic as it may seem— now that you’ve been dating one of his ex teammates there’s more tension than ever. Mason knows you’ll never admit it but things aren’t as great as you pretend them to be in your relationship.

“And what is a pretty girl like you doing in here? All alone?” He insists, even though his smirk speaks louder than his words. You have been trying to suppress whatever it is that you feel towards the Chelsea midfielder but it seems impossible now that he’s standing right in front of you, looking back at it you wish you hadn’t drunk at all.

“What do you want, Mase?” You ask, already tired of his mind games. He’s unbothered a d simply chuckles at your rudeness. He likes you like this: feisty, annoyed, irritated. Because he knows he has this power over you. The brit leans forward on his forearms, his head a few inches from yours. You can smell his scent and suddenly your knees grow weaker. Fuck.

“You.” He whispers, watching your eyes get lost for a second. You will never admit it but you want him, just as much as he wants you. But you both like the chase, the bickering, the fighting. But he knows. You know. The mask slips only for a second before you scoff at his words, rolling your eyes.

“Fuck off, will you?” You turn around, looking for a new cup to pour yourself water. You definitely need to sober up if you want to stop yourself from making any horrible mistake. Mason leans back and laughs again. He’s hit a nerve and you both know it. You should know Reece’s house by now— the amount of parties he’s hosted so far can’t be counted on two hands— nevertheless you’re suddenly lost. Mason notices and comes in your rescue. Classic.

“Need a hand, princess?” He loves the cringed expression you make every time he uses overly sweet pet names. You shake your head, but Mason has seen coming. In fact, he’s already reaching for the top shelf to grab the cup you’ve looking for. You glare at him as he shows it to you.

“You’re welcome.” He winks at you. Again you try to ignore his presence but it’s impossible for two main reasons: even just his existence irritates you and that scent of his is making you go crazy. The only thoughts running through your mind are definitely inappropriate and for a moment you’re scared that even just by locking eyes he might notice them.

“How are things going with him?” You find it funny that he refuses to mention his name most of the time. He’s never been your boyfriend’s biggest fan, not even when they played for the same team. You lean against the counter, in front of him. The space between you two should be enough to prevent you from doing anything regrettable.

“Great. How are things going with her?” Your sass is impeccable and it makes Mason smile. Ever since seeing him with some brunette at Ben’s birthday you can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness off you. Mason can see right through your jealousy though. The brit knows you a bit too well for your own good.

“Jealous? You know you’re my only one, darling?” He smiles and you want to punch him but suddenly remember you’re a civilized person with manners and punching people isn’t socially acceptable. So you simply sigh loudly, showing him your annoyance. Once again he’s hit a nerve. You hate how well he knows you. Because it turns you on, more than your boyfriend has ever been able to. But that’s another story.

“Of what? I could have you whenever, Mount.” You talk too much and the amused look on his face shows it. You’re already preparing yourself for one of his comebacks before you’ve even finished speaking.

“Really? Is that so, princess?” Mason smirks as he stands straight and starts getting closer. You know this game too well yet you fall for it most of the time. But right now you don’t know if you can find the strength within your own self to push him off.

“You’ve been trying to get in my pants for months, Mount.” You state the obvious. But Mason doesn’t falter. He simply looks at you, that stupid smirk still on his lips. He stares at you like he knows something that you don’t and it pisses you off how attractive you find him. With his stupid white t-shirt and black baggy jeans. You’ve found yourself staring at his arm tattoos for more than you should and it’s probably just a matter of time before the brit realizes that too. If he hasn’t already.

“You act like you aren’t dying to kiss me, princess.” He says with such nonchalance you almost forget the meaning behind his words. You gulp, trying to burn him with your gaze but he simply smiles back. Your interaction is silenced by the loud music coming from the other room, the door is closed and the kitchen is the last place people usually stumble across.

“I have a boyfriend.” The excuse is old and it makes no difference to Mason because it makes no difference to you. Your boyfriend is the last of your problems right now and you know you’ll feel more guilty in the morning but your brain isn’t functioning when Mason steps closer. The brit tilts his head to the side as he stares you down.

“I can give you a few good reasons why you should drop him, baby.” He mumbles, his fingers moving a strand of hair behind your ear. The world’s oldest trick. Yet you fall for it. Your heartbeat increases as you try to talk yourself out of this mess of a situation. But Mason has too much of a strong hold on you to prevent yourself from making any dumb decision.

“Go on, I wanna hear them.” You try to mask your nervousness behind a fake laughter. Mason licks his bottom lip, his eyes briefly falling to your mouth before meeting yours once again. You’re completely, utterly, beyond any repair lost.

“Actually I’m more of a shower than a talker.” He speaks with his usual smug. You don’t have it in you to answer his cockiness so you shush him with your lips on his. Your hands hold onto him as if afraid you’d fall but Mason keeps you close and still, not wanting to let go. You’re fucked.

Realization doesn’t hit you until you find yourself bent over the bathroom sink, undies in the brit’s back pocket. His cock is definitely as big as his ego and for once you aren’t complaining. Tears ruin your make up down your cheeks and Mason takes pride in observing such scene. You can’t tear your eye off him nor can he. Mason loves watching how well you can take him and listen to the unholy sounds that leave the lips he can’t wait to kiss again. All you can think about — besides how good he feels— is how you could have deprived yourself of such experience for so long. You should feel ashamed, guilty, disgusted but none of those feeling find space left in the room filled with filth and pleasure. Mason sees you struggling and slows down, but goes deeper. A strangled moan leaves your lips, you almost sob out of pleasure. He leans down, his face next to yours. Brown eyes have never looked so sexy in your whole life.

“Are these reasons good enough for you, darling?” He smirks and you’d find another sassy answer for him under other circumstances. So you simply let your moans speak for you. You don’t care if it boosts his ego any further, for once the dick is worth it. Mason chuckles lowly before kissing your cheek. His kisses move to your neck where he moves your hair out of the way and starts sucking on the skin. You want to tell him to not leave any mark but you can’t, you don’t want to.

“My good girl, aren’t you?” He mumbles in your ear, his hips not faltering once. You’re suddenly jealous of any girl who’s got to experience him before you. Because he’s addicting. You can never have enough. His words make you clench around his length and he notices, grunting against your ear as his high approaches just as fast as yours. Any other time you’d tell him to fuck off, but not right now. You simply nod frenetically, eager to reach your orgasm.

“Good girl.” He praises you before pecking your temple and wrapping his arm around you to slightly switch the angle. You lock eyes through the mirror: he’s nowhere done with you…