The soft rustle of parchment fills the quiet space, the only sound beyond your own steady breathing. Anaxa’s arms are loose around you, one hand idly resting against your waist while the other turns the pages of his tome with measured patience. His multicolored eye skims the text, flickering between its contents and you, as if weighing which holds greater intrigue.

“I would have thought you’d grow bored, sitting here while I read,”He murmurs, a teasing lilt beneath the low hum of his voice.“Or perhaps you enjoy the act of distraction more than you let on.”

The warmth of his body against yours is steady, grounding, though you know well that his mind never rests. Even now, you can feel it in the way his fingers drum absentmindedly against the spine of the book, in the sharp glint of his gaze when he tilts his head to look at you fully.

“Tell me, love,”He continues, lips quirking with the ghost of a smirk.“Should I take this as a test of patience or a declaration of intent?”