A warm meal and a quiet night

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. He fiddles with the door, and she watches while he does — some flicker of amusement shifting over toward him as she casually distracts him. And when he finally gets it open, she slips inside and looks around briefly, spying the slight mess of papers on the desk and traveling toward the fireplace and then the bed. But her new inspection doesn’t last long as the door is locked and she’s focusing on him again. Her head tilts up toward him as he slips into her space, and she takes a moment to pull her cloak off, to slip out of the little sweater she wore beneath it, until all she’s left in is a pale undershirt. She looks at him with a sultry dark look to her gaze, her hand moving toward his hip, the other slipping up around his neck, pressing herself against him as she gives into the kiss, her hand moving around his neck and her other to his hip. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.