The evening was calm.
Too calm… which meant Siyan was plotting something.
Raef was lying on the couch, holding the remote, flipping through channels with existential exhaustion.
News channel. Then cooking. Then an action movie. Then... a music channel featuring a famous dancer with a sculpted body and near-naked clothes.
And oh, how unfortunate for him.
"Did you like her chest?" Siyan's voice came from behind him, in a tone so calm it was terrifying.
"What? No! I was just… checking the lighting!"
"Of course. And you were studying the cinematic angle from her hips, right?"
He swallowed hard, turned around, and found her standing in the doorway, her hair wet from a shower, wearing his shirt that was intentionally see-through.
Trying to escape, he said,
"You're way more beautiful than her."
"But she dances."
"You… you dance on top of me every day!"
"Ah, but you don't watch me with that artistic focus."
She took slow steps towards him, grabbed the remote, turned off the TV, and then sat on his lap as if she owned the planet.
"Raef," she whispered near his lips.
"Yes?"
"Dance for me now."
"What?!"
"I told you. Dance. Move. Show me what you like."
He started moving clumsily, raising his arms, shaking his shoulders, looking like a penguin having a seizure.
Siyan was laughing so hard that tears filled her eyes. Then, suddenly, she grabbed his hair from behind and whispered:
"Now… I'll show you how we dance in my kingdom."
…
Thirty minutes passed.
Raef was lying on the floor, half-naked, breathing heavily.
Siyan was still on top of him, moving, whispering, kissing, biting, as if in a sacred ritual.
In a hoarse voice, he asked,
"Did… did you finish?"
"I haven't even started yet."
"Siyan… I feel my soul leaving."
"Let it leave… and I'll bring it back with my tongue."