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The chill of the winter night is starting to creep in as you read, but the drumming of the rain on the windows and the soft light of the reading lamp are welcome companions as you flick through the pages of your novel regardless, too absorbed in the tale to mess around getting up to find the heating controls. Instead, you simply pull your feet in under you and smooth the blanket back out over your lap before continuing your adventure through the misty mountains described so lovingly on the page.
You barely notice the time pass at all, until a voice finally cuts through the haze and pulls you back into the real world for a moment.
“You’re still reading?” Saeran asks as he stands in the living room doorway, the small light of the lamp leaving him half bathed in shadow. It almost sounds like an accusation, but his expression is hard to read from the other side of the room and you briefly wonder if you had missed him calling for you.
“You said you’d been working late, so I figured I’d start on the second book…” You hold the book aloft as if to illustrate your point.
“Oh…” Saeran tilts his head, his voice soft and just as unreadable as his expression. “It’s past midnight, so I thought you might be in bed already. It must be a fascinating book…” His eyes dart to the long-neglected mug of tea on the table beside you. “Have you eaten anything? It is very late, and we had supper earlier than usual…”
You squirm a little in your seat as you look at the lone cup of half-drunk tea that has given you away. “I got a slice of cheese when I made the tea…?” You offer, though you honestly couldn’t say how long ago that had been now.
Saeran’s lips press together in a thin line of disapproval, but he doesn’t say anything, instead moving to pick up the cup. “I can make you something, if you like?”
You glance up at the clock on the wall and shake your head. “It’s fine, it’s a bit late to eat. I’ll just finish this chapter and then we can go to bed…?” You assume his appearance in the living room means he has finished with his work, though for all his fussing over your meal and sleep schedule it means he often keeps even worse hours than you do.
Saeran’s lips press even more tightly, but again he refrains from commenting and simply nods his head. “Then I will make you some warm milk.” It’s a statement rather than an offer, but an enticing one regardless.
“Thank you.” You smile up at him and his expression softens for a moment before he turns and disappears into the kitchen, and your eyes linger in the now empty doorway for a moment before you turn back to your book.
Saeran is quiet when he returns, though you are too absorbed in the swordfight currently playing out to notice until his shadow falls across the pages as he places the drink beside you. You glance up only briefly and mutter a distracted thanks as you turn another page.
“It must be a very fascinating book…” Saeran echoes his earlier statement, though instead of the earlier hints of disapproval there is now an undeniable pout to his voice. You finally look up properly, and the pout is there in all its glory, along with some weapons grade puppy-dog eyes.
“I’m nearly done,” you can’t help but chuckle at his expression. “But the prince has just confronted the master of guards who has betrayed him and I think he’s about to confess why he did it!”
Saeran’s pout deepens slightly. “Is he a handsome prince?” There’s a slight note of bitterness to his voice. “They usually are.”
You chuckle again and reach out to reassure him, tell him that no prince is as handsome to you as he is, but as you shift the blood rushes back into the foot you’d been sitting on and instead of the intended compliment you can only let out a startled yelp.
“Ah ah ah! Pins and needles!” You hiss as your leg darts out from under you as you try and shake some life back into it.
It’s Saeran’s turn to chuckle this time. “That’s what happens when you sit in one place for hours on end,” he chides softly. Reaching out, he captures your flailing ankle with a surprisingly strong grip for such slender fingers and holds it still. You whimper, and he chuckles again, the pout now replaced with a familiar - almost dangerous - glint in his eyes.
Without breaking his gaze from yours, he gently starts to roll your foot with one hand, the other slowly squeezing its way down your calf muscle. The tingling is painful for a moment, but subsides quickly, though Saeran does not stop, his fingers gradually working his way down to rub small circles against the sole of your foot. Your foot tries to twitch against his hands, but as his thumbs press in firmer, the tickling sensation stops and you can feel the tension start to melt away. Under other circumstances his ministrations would be calming, but the downright wicked smirk he has fixed you with as he keeps your ankle locked in place is most certainly having the opposite effect.
“I keep telling you to look after yourself better…” He stretches your foot out one last time before bending down to place the faintest of kisses atop it. “Sometimes you get so lost in other things, I worry…” His lips travel slowly up your leg, his fingers not far behind, and you can’t help but shiver.
“I don’t mean to make you worry…” Your own fingers are starting to curl into the cushion beside you, the book already forgotten and your page lost.
“I know…” Saeran murmurs as he presses a kiss against your knee before continuing to travel higher, until he’s stopped by the hem of your pyjama shorts. “But I can’t help it…”
You yelp again as he nips lightly at the flesh of your inner thigh, hips instinctively pressing forward, though Saeran pulls back just as quickly, as if to deny you.
“Will you be a good girl and let me take you to bed? It is very late, after all…” He asks, though the innocence in his tone does not match the smirk he’s still wearing.
You nod eagerly, and without another word your handsome prince sweeps you off your feet to carry you to bed.