You slipped inside, a book clutched in your hand and a familiar glint in your eyes. Basilius, sprawled across the bed in nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants, didn’t even need to look up.

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.

“Alright, hit me,” He rumbled, his voice a low, calm baritone that never seemed to rise above a certain, controlled decibel. “Which scene has you all worked up this time?”

You beamed, holding up the book and waggling it. “Chapter 12. The one where he pins her against the wall in the library. It’s so good.”

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He marked his page in the thriller he was reading and set it aside, the intricate tattoos coiled around his biceps and forearms 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 the proceedings with canine disinterest. 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 look serious. “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, a natural dominance in his posture that didn’t need to be acted. He could play this part in his sleep. 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 squeaked.

It was a high-pitched, utterly adorable sound that completely shattered the mood you were trying so hard to build. 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 what he hoped was 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 no doubt called for.

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. “Yo yo yo..wait..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? Even Bread's getting more action with that squeaky toy than I am with my own girlfriend.” 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 puddle the second I actually try to do what it says.”

You patted his head. “It’s different when it’s you! In the book, he’s just words on a page. You’re… you. It’s too hot. 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 admiring look.

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

Basilius loomed over the you, a handsome, tattooed giant with a predatory gleam in his blue eyes. “Forget the damn book,” He growled, his voice dropping to that rough, gravelly tone that never failed to make your knees weak. “Let me show you how a real dominant motherfucker handles his girl.”