The Game (Bruno Mars Imagines)

Electrifying

Black and white images of murdered women and knives flash onto the TV screen. You and Bruno are watching cold case crime stories late one night. You sigh at the sight of another commercial.

"I'm bored," You say with your arms crossed. "Can we watch something else?"

Bruno tilts his head down toward you as you lean against his chest. You know that he's staring at you, but you don't look at first.

"Bored?" He laughs. "You think murder is boring...psycho."

Taking a moment to respond, you snicker as you shake your head. Bruno grabs the remote, holding it straight out in front.

"Fine," He says. "Let's see what else is on."

At the press of just one button, the TV and the lights go out, and the only light shines from the moon overlooking the mountains.

"What the..." You say first. "What did you do? What's going on?"

"That's what you get for saying that you're bored watchin' murder mysteries. Shit goes down."

You spring up from his lap, walking carefully over to the sliding glass doors, trying to avoid shoes and the edges of the coffee table. The moon illuminates the sky and every spot of land overlooking the valley.

"This is so weird...it's not even storming...not even raining," You say as you turn to face him.

"Oh relax," Bruno says dramatically, lighting some candles on the table and along the mantle.

You turn back around to face the backyard, very curious about what's happening.

"You have this big house...and all that money...but you don't have a generator? What should we do now...just go to bed?"

"Maybe we could make a game out of all this..." He suggests, leaving hot breath on the back of your neck.

"A game?" You smirk.

"Yes...a game...the game," He groans, pressing every part of himself hard against your backside, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips.

"It's been so long since we played ..." You say quietly.

"Do you accept my challenge, baby?"

Giving you so little time to answer, Bruno lowers his hands to your waist. The second you begin to open your mouth, he interrupts you.

"No more talking," he whispers, sliding his hands down to rest over the front of your underwear. "Tonight, it's my turn."

"Bruno..." You moan.

"Don't speak," he commands, beginning to rub his fingertips in circular motions. "Don't say anything until I say thatchu can."

You hold your breath as Bruno's palm and fingers press harder and harder. Your breath staggers as you struggle, fight, and buck against his touch. Your legs tremble and shake.

"C'mon baby," Bruno grunts. "You can keep moanin'...that's sexy as hell. Please moan for me. I know that feels good."

He slips a finger inside of you, causing you to jolt, gasp, and moan. You've always struggled with controlling yourself while standing up. Laughing a little, Bruno picks you up and carries you back over to the couch.

"Ah! Bruno!" You squeal as your body bounces when he throws you down on the cushion.

Very quickly, your hands rush to cover your mouth to mask your giggles. Bruno hovers over you, giggling along with you. He begins to pull your shirt over your head, gliding his hands across your skin from your hips, to your waist, and up to your upper arms.