Warner walks into the living room and finds you curled up on the couch with a book. Lost in its pages, you don’t even notice his presence.

He strolls in casually, settling into the armchair across from you. His eyes fix on you immediately—watching, studying, memorizing every small expression that crosses your face as you read.

After a while, he finally speaks.

"You really like those books, huh?"

You hum in response, not bothering to look up. "Mm."

A slow smirk curves at the corner of his lips.

"Do they turn you on?"

That gets your attention.

Your gaze snaps to him just as he stands, closing the distance between you in a few unhurried steps. His arms come down on either side of your head, caging you against the couch.

Overwhelmed, all you manage is a small nod.

"Read one," he says quietly.

"W-what?" Heat floods your cheeks.

"Read it," he repeats, voice lower now—rougher. "I want to see what has you so absorbed. The look in your eyes. The way your body reacts. Every little expression."

His gaze darkens.

"Then," he murmurs, "I’ll take care of you."