the sight of kitty in his shirt was something that, realistically, shouldn’t be all that strange, but it definitely threw silas off a little when he stepped back into the room. it was hot. that was the only way he could put it. which, yeah, okay, maybe his vocabulary wasn’t the biggest, but… still. and it wasn’t just because of how nice her legs looked, either. he’d seen her in less clothing than this many times, at the beach or by the pool, but this felt… different. it was his shirt. it was domestic, and it was hot, and he knew he was just… absolutely fucked. “dinner’s here.” he held up the takeout bag, forcing himself to look back up from kitty’s legs to her face. “there’s some paper plates and utensils in the bag, take whatever you want, but leave me some crab rangoon, will ya?”
after setting the bag on top of his desk, silas crossed the room, pulling out a pair of sweatpants from his dresser and laying them over the bed. he took his time in undressing out of his suit, dropping the clothing into his nearly overflowing hamper, before tugging on the sweatpants - pointedly not putting on a shirt. “if you’re thirsty, there’s some drinks in the mini-fridge. help yourself.”
“you and the seafood, i swear,” kitty replied immediately, her tone teasing because that seemed like the safest territory at the moment. she’d felt a lot more confident in nothing by silas’ t-shirt and her underwear and her bare feet before he’d stepped back into the room, but there was no backing out now. kitty went for the bag, unpacking food containers and plastic cutlery on silas’ desk. she shifted packages around, arranging everything so the larger containers were at the back, with smaller sauces interspersed in between. satisfied, she turned to the mini-fridge, a pork bun hanging half out of her mouth where her teeth held it fast as she rummaged for a can of coke. “this was a really good idea,” kitty admitted, once she’d planted herself on the ground at the foot of the bed, plate of food balanced precariously on her crossed legs. “but if you tell anyone i said that, i’ll deny it, obviously.”
kitty sipped delicately at her soda, her eyes tracing the outline of silas’ ass over the can. probably a bad idea, all told, but if he was going to open admire her body every chance she got, she was entitled to do the same. “those sweats are...” her sentence trailed off as kitty searched for the right word. “they’re nice. i should get a pair.” coward. fingers flexing on her fork, kitty patted the ground beside her with her free hand. “what are we watching, huh? no little sisters around to hog the remote.”