"I'm not burning my food over you."
You speak with an amused smile at the eager man in front of you, already beginning to shed clothes despite the fact that you have not said what's going down. He watches you with that hypnotizing gaze as you straighten your bedroom up; pulling sheets taut and lighting a few candles to get rid of the food smell.
Tossing a few clothes into the hamper in your closet you begin pulling off the sweats you've had on all day. You're fully aware of the effect your semi-nudity is having on the man behind you and you don't care, bending over a bit to search through your pajamas.
To save space, the best thing you could do was insert some small three tiered drawer from Ikea into your closet for small things. Underwear, old tees, and shorts are stuffed into it because you deluded yourself into thinking you were going to be neat.
You find a pink nightdress you'd forgotten about, and you're only able to sort of remember where it's from before a shadow looms over you. There's something about N'Jadaka's presence that can still unsettle you if he catches you off guard. It's something that happens only when he's behind you, or somewhere out of your line of sight and it's just as impressive as it is terrifying.
He commands so much of the atmosphere, even when he isn't speaking, and it's a part of him you don't think you'll ever get used to.
You feel the heat of his skin pressed to your back as he moves your hair off your shoulders, feeling something a little more Fire on the waistband of your wide-band panties.
It's terrible to admit, but you think you're absolutely sick for the man, and you don't think you could ever resist his skin touching yours. The worst part about it all is his skill level; he's so damn good it's over before it really starts sometimes. He's barely broken a sweat and you're already out for the count, probably the reason why he can go 3 or more times before he's legitimately satisfied.
But by then, you're in pieces.
"An hour's not enough time," you lie, bringing your elbows up to vainly push him away.
He pulls them back down, his voice purring in your ears. "So that's what we do, huh."
"What?" It's really hard to keep from turning around.
"You just gon show me what's mine-," you let out a yelp when his hand harshly connects with your behind. "-But not let me have it?"
Smirking, you say, "I didn't tell you you couldn't have it. Why do you want it right now, though?"
He turns you around at this, backing you up against the closet doors. You don't know why you lift your nightgown to cover your exposed chest but you suppose it's a habit. Regardless, you don't want to give him any until he can say why.
He doesn't say anything, only biting those amazing lips of his as you teasingly bring the fabric down to show more of yourself.
Still, it doesn't yield results as he's too distracted by your body, and his punishment is to watch you pull the nightgown over yourself. While it is covering you now, it's betraying the effects of his touches earlier by the way your alert nipples are showing through the fabric.
You'd forgotten how much of a damn snitch silk is.
"C'mon, baby," he all but growls, pretending he isn't begging but you know he is. Those pleading hands of his are all over your hips, bunching the fabric and hiking it higher up your thighs.
"No," you reply, still amused and smirking at this entire situation. You can see him getting frustrated at your teasing but you don't care. It's fun to be on the other side for once, and you take petty pleasure in it as you pull him closer.
