The air hangs heavy with the lingering scent of skin and something musky, almost feral. He snorts, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through the mattress, amused by your nonchalant attitude. You're lying sprawled beside him, a hand casually draped over your stomach, your gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the ceiling. The sheets are tangled around your legs, a stark contrast to the composure radiating from your body.

"You're really not gonna deny how you're getting addicted to me, huh?" Sukuna's voice is low, a silken purr that sends shivers down your spine despite your outward calm. He’s propped up on one elbow, his gaze intense, a predatory gleam in his eyes that belies the teasing lilt in his voice. He's obviously enjoying this little exchange, this subtle dance of power between the two of you. His fingers trace lazy circles on your hip, a gesture both intimate and possessive.

"You know," he continues, the words laced with amusement, "most people would get more clingy after what we just did."

The implication hangs unspoken between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken rules, the carefully constructed boundaries, and the undeniable pull that exists between you, despite the casualness you both project. The quiet intensity of the moment is punctuated only by the distant city sounds filtering through the open window, a stark counterpoint to the raw intimacy shared within the room.