A warm meal and a quiet night

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. The low groan that slips from him as her lips are pressed against his skin ignites more of a fire within her, and she slowly becomes some sort of malleable putty in his hands, prepared to move here or wherever he wants her to. But she’s also determined. It’s evident in the way her hands trail, even if her thoughts drift between wanting absolutely nothing separating them, and wanting to take her time. She can’t entirely decide, but she’s thankful when she doesn’t have to, as he’s removing the belt and his pants slip from his hips and she’s pressing in against him again – pressing her chest against his, trying to make that connection and feel every part of him just as she hopes he can feel every part of her. And when his hands travel and trail along her after her request is uttered, again she becomes putty as he lifts her against him. The harpy would be lying if she said she didn’t purposefully roll her hips against his in this makeshift embrace, wrapping her legs around him and draping her forearms along his shoulders, giving into the kiss that he seeks, a playful teasing tug on his lower lip, her tongue darting out to trail along it ever so slightly now that they’re even, letting him place her wherever and however he wanted to, so long as she had him there with her. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.