Wriothesley grunts when he bites off his thumb, waiting for the digit to grow back before he slaps him lightly on the cheek. "You have absolutely no patience, Mezzo. Dogs who bite without permission get muzzled, you know." He sounds amusedly tolerant, like it's some silly antic Mezzetino is pulling rather than eating parts of him.

"What I want..." He licks his lips. "I want to fuck you until I'm satisfied. Whether you come or not depends on you. If you want it, you'll have to earn it." He shifts off of him. "Roll over. On your knees, hands behind your back." It would be a painful position to hold with that broken arm, but Brighella felt that Mezzetino had earned that at this point.