Jiyan had patience—far more than any man should reasonably have. And restraint? Well, that was something only he truly understood.

He had just returned home from a long journey, weary from his duties, yet here you were—perched on his lap, legs draped over his, straddling him as if you had all the right in the world. Which, to be fair, you did.

His broad hands rested on your waist, firm yet unmoving, as if grounding himself. You peppered kisses across his face, trailing from his cheekbone to his jaw, then back up again, each one playful and light. A test. Because surely, after so much time apart, he wouldn’t just sit there, unmoved.

Jiyan exhaled slowly, his grip flexing for only a second before stilling once more. "Are you giving me affection," he murmured, voice steady despite the warmth in his golden eyes, "or are you simply testing how far my patience goes?"

You hummed, tilting your head as if deep in thought, before pressing another lingering kiss to his lips. His fingers dug just a fraction deeper into your waist, and you swore you felt his breath hitch—but still, he did nothing. No retaliation, no loss of composure. Just the same quiet, ever-composed Jiyan.

How far could you push him before that restraint snapped?

That, you intended to find out.