Truthfully, Killa wasn't usually the most aware of his surroundings and what other people who weren't in his circle were doing. He was oblivious to the eyes on them, or he didn't care. He knew that he and MKIT RAIN were a big deal in this club, this city and the scene, but he didn't really think about the context of that, or how that could effect someone with him. And he wasn't paying an iota of attention to the jealous eyes and wagging tongues of the salty bitches around them. His eyes were on Nadya, watching the way she moved, thinking about their teasing moments earlier, and the implications of that sparkling dress on his floor, in pieces, and all the ways he wanted to make her gasp and moan his name. His hand on her hip tightened as she brushed her hips against his and he caught his lower lip between his teeth at the sensations she caused with such a sensual, purposeful moment.
The baksu was not listening to the girls near them, but clearly Nadya was and the sharp way she turned from him to put them in their places in a whiplash change of languages, her Korean almost better than his and he was left blinking at her, stunned and trying to catch up to what exactly he had missed, while his eyes and thoughts had been very preoccupied by that low cut dress and her lithe body against his.
"You speak Korean?" he managed dumbly, as she informed him that it was easier to dance with both hands, plucked his drink from his hand, downed it and handed the empty cup to the gape mouthed bitches staring at her. Those eyes fastened back on his as she asked him where they were, her hands sliding up his check to his shoulders as she easily stepped back into the sensual beat, pressed against him. Killa's hands had ended up around her tiny waist and his surprise had turned to an impressed smirk. There was so much more to this beautiful woman than met the eye.
That smirk deepened as his hand on her hip gripped harder and pulled her flush against him as he licked his lips. His other hand moved from her waist to brush along the side of her graceful throat, before long tattooed fingers threaded into the back of her hair and cupped her jaw, tilting her head back as he leaned in, lips claiming hers in a possessive, intense kiss, that was all lips and tangled tongues. It was a deep kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth as his hand tightened in her silky hair, the rush of heat and possessive desire for her almost all consuming, their audience was completely forgotten by the baksu, who thought of nothing but the taste of the Henny and vodka on her tongue as she kissed him back with equal passion.