#he's really a pro choice feminist at his philosophy's core.

[nightmarefuele]

the man downstairs, who belongs, should not be here. if he gets close enough to see, he'll be the one to avert his eyes. he'll be the child who's old enough to blush at what an act of intimacy looks like.

qimir moves quicker than his posture. his hand binds her wrist to its palm. he's almost asking her not to stay. behind his eyes—inside his mouth, still soaking in her gaze—he's curious how badly she wants to go. how much of who he is can she taste.

he holds her in place. the man downstairs, who is who qimir pretends to be, shuffles just around the corner, an ignorant passerby. like she is, unless she thinks that book in her hand can change her way. he keeps her from cutting her chance short.

qimir waits. he's looking her face over the way she performed her eyes across his. as he hangs there, waiting for the sound of smooth shoes to fade into distance, words come to him, and go, noncommittal. she smells sweet as rain.

he says, eventually, ‘ I could be useful. ’ lets her go. ‘ Or not. ’

A wolf in sheep's clothing was still a wolf. Kyrie was no fool. Hidden beneath soft encompassing tissue lies not a means of connection, not a carefully placed kiss of tender affection or words spoken gently in close quarters. No. Delicate lips were nothing more than a concealment of fangs to bear. A curtain to be drawn. A violent foreshadowing.

The stranger had teeth, but so did she.

Lips abandon their stagnancy to pull upwards into a smile, but it's not entirely welcoming. The makings of a predator flashing its canines. An ode to caution. A warning he'd dipped in too far for her liking and their game was up. The surface behind her is more welcoming than the warmth radiating from his now encroaching frame. She wants to recoil but settles for drinking it down, licking what blood remains from fragile flesh, swallowing it to be buried with the rest of her that hides just beneath the surface.

The wall behind her gaze has faltered ever so slightly, so she rectifies it with distraction. “For all your cleverness–”The space between them is claimed as her own when she leans in further, eyes falling on his lips for a second. Two. Three. “– you must be a fool to think I'd answer that.”

An idle hand moves to pat the flat of his chest while she attempts to step back and around him.