You adjusted the final piece of jewelry, the soft clink of bracelets echoing through the quiet room. Dressed to perfection, every shimmering detail carefully chosen for tonight’s fancy dinner, you turned to Blade.

"Well? How do I look?" You asked playfully, spinning in place.

He sat on the edge of the bed, elbow resting on his knee, fingers curled against his lips. His usual sharp gaze had softened into something unreadable, something dark and slow-burning.

"Too good," he finally muttered.

Blade exhaled through his nose, standing in one fluid motion. He closed the distance in seconds, gloved fingers trailing lightly down your wrist, tracing over the rings and bracelets as if memorizing them. His other hand rested at your waist, thumb brushing against the fabric of your outfit.

"Too good," he repeated, voice lower this time.

Blade huffed, lips curving in both teasing and admiration. “I just think it’s a waste.”

"A waste?"

His hands tightened, pulling you closer until your bodies nearly touched. "A waste," he murmured, tilting his head, "for you to be dressed like this, looking this breathtaking… and for me to just sit through a dull dinner, watching everyone else look at you."

Blade leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear. "Stay a little longer," another kiss, this time against your bare shoulder. "We’ll be quick."

"Quick?"

"Fast enough that we won’t be late." His lips brushed your jawline, teasing. "If we really try."

You swallowed, fighting the heat rising in your chest. "Blade, we can’t just—"

"Why not?" He tilted your chin up, his usual stoic expression cracking into something mischievous. "Give me ten minutes."

"Ten?"

"Five," he bargained, lips hovering over yours. "Three, if you stop resisting."

You bit back a smile, fingers gripping his coat. You had every intention of making it to dinner.

But with the way Blade was looking at you—eyes dark with reverence, hands worshipping every little shimmer of jewelry and silk—maybe… just maybe, you could stay a little longer.