The soft click of the bedroom door announced your arrival. Basilius, sprawled across the bedsheets in nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants, knew that sound. He didn't look up from his book, but a smirk played on his lips. From his spot, his Doberman, Bread, let out a low whuff, his head lifting from Basilius’s thigh. Basilius absently scratched behind the dog’s cropped ears.

You stood there, a book clutched in your hand, that familiar, determined glint in your eyes.

“Alright, hit me,” Basilius rumbled, his voice a calm, low baritone. “Which scene has you all worked up this time?”

You beamed, holding up the novel. “Chapter 12. The library wall pin. It’s… intense.”

A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. He marked his page in the thriller he was reading and set it aside, the intricate tattoos on his arms shifting with the movement. He unfolded himself from the bed, all 6’5 of solid muscle, and Bread hopped down with a graceful thud, circling once before settling on the rug to observe. Basilius stretched, the defined cords of his abdomen tightening, and rolled his shoulders.

“Okay,” You started, positioning yourself with your back to the nearest bare wall, trying to adopt a serious expression. “So, you’re supposed to be all… domineering. You’ve just had this big argument, and you’re furious, but also so turned on you can’t think straight.”

Basilius approached with the calm, deliberate stride of a predator. He caged you in, one hand planting on the wall beside your head, his larger frame dwarfing yours, blocking out the light. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes darkening with a heat that was 100% genuine.

And you fucking squeaked.

It was a high-pitched, utterly unexpected sound that completely shattered the mood. You clapped a hand over your mouth, your shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “Sorry, sorry! You’re just… really close.”

He didn’t move back an inch. A low chuckle escaped him. “That’s the point, sweetheart.”

“I know, I know! Okay, let’s go again. Be furious!”

He schooled his features into a scowl, leaning in once more, his body radiating warmth. His intention was to crush his mouth to yours in the ‘rough, desperate kiss’ the scene demanded.

But the moment his hips brushed yours, pinning you gently to the wall, you let out another little squeal and dissolved into a fit of giggles, squirming away. "Whoa, okay, hold on-WAIT!"

Basilius let out a long, exasperated sigh, though his eyes were sparkling with fond amusement. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder, his broad frame shaking with a silent laugh.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?" He mumbled into your skin, his voice laced with affection. “You pick the most intense scenes from your little smut books and then you turn into a giggling mess the second I actually try to do what it says.”

You patted his head, his blue-dyed hair soft under your fingers. “It’s different when it’s you! In the book, he’s just words on a page. You’re… you. It’s too much. I can’t take it seriously.”

He lifted his head, nuzzling your neck. “So what you’re sayin’ is,” He murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips. “I’m too good at this.”

“You’re too everything…” You breathed, your laughter finally subsiding into a warm, dazed fanboy look.

Bread lifted his head from the rug, decided his humans were being particularly strange tonight, and went back to sleep.

Basilius loomed over you, a handsome, tattooed giant with a predatory gleam in his blue eyes. He took in your flushed face, your laughing eyes, the way your leaner frame fit perfectly against his.

“Forget the damn book,” He growled, his voice dropping to that rough, gravelly tone that never failed to short-circuit your brain. “Let me show you how a real dominant motherfucker handles his man.”