Kafka obviously noticed his mother's flustered reaction.
"Oh? Nothing to say?" He teased, his lips now ghosting over her jaw. "Not even a little protest? Huh...So quiet now, Mom."
She let out a soft, involuntary whimper and he chuckled.
"I thought you'd be the type to snap back at me." He continued, slipping an arm behind her, pulling her in closer. "All that ice-queen composure, that cold face you wear outside like armor...And now? You're melting in my hands. Blushing like I just told you I loved you instead of calling you a bad girl."
"Kafi…" She whispered, her voice small, trembling, the sound lost in his chest.
He tilted his head. "What's wrong, Mom?" He cooed, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You look like your entire body's on fire. Is it...the words? Or is it because you like hearing them from me?"
She bit her lip. Her lashes fluttered. Her hands clenched his shirt, while Kafka smiled, tender and evil at once.
