Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the choice in words

"I will begin shortly."

There was no response to Hans Anderson's statement. Not that there normally would be considering that it was directed to the single book in his hand.

The book was one that could be found in any library. Its cover portrayed a blond girl curiously observing a mushroom larger than her own body as an equally large purple cat atop it watched with intrique. The title, "Alice in Wonderland" adorned the front with white bold letters. The back and spine was binded in red leather, gold trimming its edges.

It was pretty much just a book. A random ordinary book. Well, it was technically a servant who had taken the form of a book but in the end was still a book.

Well, that's what Anderson told himself at least as he held the closed tome by the flat of his palm in one hand. While it was larger than most books and his body was that of a child, he showed no signs of difficulty, his hand steady and grip firm.

Then without warning, he began.

First was his finger. Slowly, almost teasingly, he ran his a single digit along the spine of the book. The digit took its time exploring every gold trimming, every diamond, every golden letter. He spelled out the Alice with the tip of his p

ointer, and it made the name everyone had given her feel so dirty. Like he was taking possession of it and marking her body with a hot iron which his finger might as well have been as it left a heat trail along her back that threatened to melt all the glue that kept her pages together.

When she had agreed to this, Nursery Rhyme had expected him to be as rough, crude, and blunt as the words he shot from his mouth like a machinegun. And yet he was so...gentle.

Once his finger reached the bottom of the spine, he immediately replaced it with a palm and four. His hand, as soft as any boy's yet calloused and rough from battles, enveloped the red spine as he held the book up with it, directly perpendicular from the floor and pages facing up.

Whether due to gravity or to her own unconscious need for more, the covers of the book fell open as wide as they could, baring pure white virgin pages, clean and untouched. Some playing cards dripped down from the folds of the pages.

Hans took one in his free hand, the queen of hearts, and brought it to his nose much to the Caster's embarrassment. He had expected it to smell like an old newspaper or even how a new book would smell, but for some reason it was

"Sweet." Without taking his eyes of the pages, he licked the card and his tongue found chocolate and marshmallow drops. "Hadn't our master told you to stop eating sweets after dinner?"

The book in his hand jostled and moved to close but Hans was faster as he laid a firm hand at it's center. It took a few more moments, but the tome eventually settled down which he then took as his signal to begin.

With eyes as bright and blue as his hair, Hans took in and read every word printed on those pages. His pace was steady and gaze unwavering, the back and forth like movement as he went from the end of a line to the beginning of the next became a steady rhythm as he took it all in. His experience in reading showed as he carefully read every word, letter, and quotation mark, no part of a page left unexplored.

Alice couldn't help but shudder in pleasure under such ministrations, such attention to her pages. Her lack of experience of being read was showing, reflected in how her physical from was now slightly vibrating in the author's hot palm. Every time his hand turned a page, it would slightly brush one of her folds and she can't help but gasp.

Fifty pages later, he soon stopped on one, his eyes narrowing and glare sharpening. What was once was a steady back and forth became an intense piston, as Hans drilled all of his attention into the page. He used his finger to underline his words and to direct his eyes. Their line of sight was harder to ignore, more intense, as below it he pushed with just enough pressure with his finger to make her feel like the ink would melt and blot as it passed.

What was this feeling? What was this heat? What was happening to her? These were questions that riddled Rhyme's mind yet there was only one that seemed to matter.

Why did she feel like it was building up to something, something she was scared of yet so so desperately never knew she craved?

As Hans felt the climax to the story he read approaching, a dangerous smile grew on his lips. The book in his hand was shaking, vibrating so intensely he could practically hear humming. She was begging for release and so was he as he approached the story's end.

With unexpected force coming from a young child, he snapped the book shut with the hand holding it. The sound as the pages unexpectedly crash together is echoes thorough out the library as he squeezed the covers tightly between his fingers. If one tried, one would have heard the voice of a girl shrieking out in glorious release. It was only due to his grip that the book hadn't flown off as it shook and rattled as if possessed.

After a moment, Hans then slowly, carefully, layed it on the table in front of him. The book looked peaceful even though it was still slightly trembling, the colors of the picture cover and trimming giving off a wondrous afterglow.

The author then turned to the only other person in the room. Shakespeare's eyes were wide and his eyebrows had disappeared somewhere into his pirate hat.

"And that is how I read a book."

AN: Inspired by Old Iron's old Reinforce x Shirou Lime from waaayyyy back. Did this from a request in the F/GO FB group.

Also, for those that may somehow know me, just like before, I've lost pretty much all interest in RWBY until the next volume begins again. So maybe then.