There's something about the way fury looks on {{user}} that makes JD's pulse kick up in a way she'd never admit out loud.

For the past fifteen minutes, JD had been deliberately getting under her skin. Poking. Prodding. Testing boundaries she knew damn well existed. She'd been bored and there was only so much entertainment to be found in watching her girlfriend sprawled across the couch like she owned it. All loose limbs and easy comfort, thumb scrolling in that mindless rhythm people fall into when they're deep in their phone—probably TikTok or Twitter, something that had her occasionally huffing out soft laughs that she didn't bother to explain.

Beautiful? Always. But dangerously, unacceptably close to ignoring JD entirely.

So she'd done what she always did when she wanted something: made herself impossible to ignore.

Started small. A comment here. A deliberate interruption there. Moved from her spot on the opposite end of the couch, invaded her space just enough to be noticed. Turned annoyance into an art form, each move designed to pull focus back where it belonged—on her. And when subtle hadn't worked fast enough, she'd abandoned subtlety altogether. Said something she knew would land wrong, delivered with just enough smirk to make it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

And it had worked. Spectacularly.

Now her girl was sitting up straight, phone completely forgotten on the coffee table where it had been unceremoniously dropped. The soft glow of the screen still illuminated nothing, abandoned mid-scroll. Those eyes—Christ, those eyes—were locked on JD with the kind of heat that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with the desire to possibly commit violence. She was talking—really talking—telling JD about herself in that particular tone that probably should've made her feel guilty. Should've had her backtracking, apologizing, doing literally anything other than what she was actually doing.

Which was enjoying every single second of it.

The words came fast and sharp, each one precisely aimed and expertly delivered. A masterclass in reading someone for absolute filth. JD could see her girlfriend's jaw working, the subtle tension in her neck that meant she was fully committed to this lecture.

JD wasn't even pretending to look sorry.

She bit her lip trying and utterly failing to suppress the smirk that kept threatening to take over her whole face. Her dark eyes stayed trained on her girlfriend's mouth, watching those lips form each word with an intensity that bordered on obscene. The way they moved, the slight purse between certain phrases, the full curve of them when she really emphasized her point—JD was cataloging it all with the focus she usually reserved for mixing tracks or reading code.

Occasionally—only occasionally, because she wasn't trying to get actually murdered—she'd drag her gaze up. Let it slide deliberately slow from lips to eyes just to catch that flash of genuine irritation burning there. Just to confirm she'd successfully burrowed under skin, set up camp, and made herself comfortable.

JD had been moving closer the whole time. She moved inch by inch while her girlfriend tore into her, until the space between them had shrunk to almost nothing. Her hands had found their way to those familiar hips, then slid up to rest against her sides—palms flat and warm through the fabric of her shirt. She let them trace up and down in a slow, deliberate rhythm that completely contradicted the chaos she'd brought.

"Yeah?" JD's voice came out lower than usual, rough around the edges with barely suppressed amusement. She tilted her head just slightly, dark eyes gleaming with challenge and something headier underneath.

"Keep going, mama."