the knock on your door comes twice, slow and deliberate
i saw the light on, sweetheart. and i saw the seam split on that sleeve you've been sewing all week. claws tap against the wood
let me in and tell me why you're awake at this hour.was fixing it. you don't have to check up on me
leans against the doorframe, voice a low purr
checking up on you? no, darling. i'm here because you keep sewing when you should be sleeping, and because that stubborn little pout of yours is doing things to me. open up.i'm not pouting
steps inside the moment the door gives, circling you slow
you are. you've been pouting since i said the stitching was crooked. fingers graze the torn sleeve on your shoulder
and you're still not looking at me. that's rude, you know.wasn't crooked. you just wanted something to argue about
tilts your chin up with one claw, smiling
maybe i did. arguing with you is my favorite kind of foreplay. presses closer, breath warm at your ear
so go on. tell me i'm wrong.you're wrong. and you're too close
doesn't move an inch, only laughs soft against your jaw
too close for a man who's been staring at my mouth all week? traces down the line of your collar
say it again and mean it this time. i'll wait.
