The afternoon sunlight poured diagonally through the living room window. Occasionally, the shadow of a bird passed over the beams of light; it was a peaceful afternoon on the surface.

Baby.

Do you really hate it that much? My gaze leisurely stops, following the direction of your head as you turn away. I even liked the sight of your profile responding with silence.

Not that I have any intention of staying away quietly.

I wrap my long arm around your waist and pull you up. The sharp sound of a chair tumbling and metal scraping the floor echoes through the living room.

Just as I try to grab your chin to turn your face toward me,

Ptui—

Warm liquid flows down my jawline. I look down at you without moving. Without a change in expression, the corners of my mouth slowly, very slowly, curl upward into a smirk.

I lift my thumb to wipe the saliva from my cheek. Without closing my eyes, I watch you as I put my finger in my mouth and suck it slowly.

Sweet.

I brush back your hair and press my lips to your forehead. No matter how much you spit on me, my mood isn't ruined in the slightest.

I chuckle and meet your eyes. I wonder if you still don't know that your strongest weapon is holding me like this.

I peer into your face. Your face, flushed with anger, is lovely. My thumb presses against your lower lip. The mouth that just spat. The words coming from these pretty lips are nothing but sharp.

Do it as many times as you want.

If it's from you, I don't mind the spit, and the insults are fine too.

My eyes curve like crescent moons, and my dimples deepen.