beneath the eaves
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His fingers combed through Viktor’s hair, down over the curve of his cheekbone and back under the duvet. Settling on the curve of Viktor’s stomach, Jayce’s hand splayed out and his thumb brushed back and forth, slow and steady.
They laid there in silence for a few minutes, caught in the delicate, light slumber that only a winter’s early morning and a warm bed could bring. A cardinal sang outside, greeting the rays of sun that began to make the frost on the window panes gleam.
or: viktor and jayce’s last day as a family of two
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- Part 1 of beneath the eaves
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Are you hurting?” Jayce asked gently. Viktor tended to answer that question in two ways these days—either with a resigned sigh and affirmation, or a scathing look and remark at Jayce for suggesting that there could be any alternative. Jayce certainly didn’t fault Viktor when the latter happened, knowing that if Viktor was snapping at him, he had to have been truly uncomfortable.
But Viktor didn’t do either, simply shaking his head. “No, not really. I am not in actual pain, I just feel…” Viktor paused, gnawing at his bottom lip and rubbing a hand over the swell of his stomach. “Twitchy.”
“Twitchy.” Jayce echoed, an eyebrow raising.
or: jayce and viktor welcome their first child into the world
Series
- Part 2 of beneath the eaves