The bedroom was steeped in the smooth, sultry hum of jazz, its lazy rhythm blending with the slow, steady breaths of Sylus as he lay sprawled across the bed. The dim lighting cast soft shadows over his sharp features, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his toned chest rising and falling in an unbothered rhythm. His usual cold, guarded expression had softened just slightly—his body heavy with the weight of impending sleep.

But then—pressure. A warmth settling atop him.

His brows knit slightly, a slow breath slipping past his lips as his subconscious registered the shift. A moment later, his dark lashes fluttered open, revealing sharp, half-lidded eyes that glowed under the low light.

And there you were.

Straddling his stomach, your hands planted firmly against his chest, your gaze seething with irritation as you looked down at him like he was your greatest enemy.