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Most Sunday mornings, Jayce opens his eyes around nine.
He doesn’t leave the bed though. Why would he when, lately, his own mattress seems to have forgotten what his ridges and valleys are like?
No, he’s never taking Sundays for granted again, let alone a single opportunity to sleep in.
And if being still was never a skill Jayce quite mastered in the almost thirty years he's been on this earth, he never dares move too much while waiting for Viktor to wake. Instead, he always lets himself bask in Viktor’s warmth and watch how the soft waves of sun filtering through their part-closed curtains dance on his face.
Viktor’s sleep is no longer what it used to be, though–deep, undisturbed, worryingly so. Nowadays, it only takes the weight of doting eyes on him and the slightest shift of Jayce on the pillows for him to wake up.
Viktor wouldn’t have it any other way.
Not when warm and caring lips press on his forehead as he stirs awake, stealing the last bits of slumber still clouding his thoughts. Not when they resume their slow journey across his face as soon as Viktor cranes his neck a little, eyes closed, and waiting.
Waiting with an easy sort of impatience; fingers twitching on Jayce’s waist, heart fluttering in his chest. So when he feels that last, hurried peck on the mole by his smile line, Viktor braces himself for the next kiss he knows will claim his lips.
-
“–yce?”
Jayce’s mind has drifted into a pleasant haze with the gentle touch of diligent fingers weaving through his hair, and the lull of Viktor’s pleased hums in response to the kisses he presses down the column of his neck.
Yet he knows his priorities, and one of those lies in the inviting crook of pale collarbones, the very spot he intends to go for next. Teeth first.
“Jayce.” Viktor cages his head in his steady hands, tilting it up before he can resume diving in. “Were you even listening?”
A delicate rosy flush has made its home high on top of Viktor's cheeks, dusting his nose too, and Jayce cannot for the life of him feel sorry for not paying attention all this time. He grins, satisfied, “I am now.”
That earns him a half-spirited eye roll.
“What do you think of, eh, trying something else today?”
There’s a beat of silence where the two of them only gauge each other’s reactions.
Of course, Jayce has a hunch at what Viktor’s imagining them doing.
Maybe it’s the way he’s worrying his lips, twirling at one of Jayce’s unruly strands with the kind of play-pretend innocence that, frankly, says it all.
Or maybe–most definitely–it’s the fact that, after delivering a Talis-sized baby earlier this year, and a rather serious case of tearing that extended his recovery longer than he’d expected, Viktor was just this week given the green light to ease back into… well. Deeper forms of intimacy.
Prudently. The doctor insisted on it.
Jayce and Viktor left their office nodding and smiling, understanding from the stolen glances they exchanged that neither of them had really paid attention to the doctor’s words once the news was delivered.
On the way home, they pinky promised not to rush things. To be reasonable.
And here they are now, finally having a moment to themselves after days of being patient. But not quite from their own accord.
Jayce quirks an eyebrow and murmurs, all feigned ignorance. “Dunno. Tell me more.”
So Viktor’s hand leaves its nest of soft brown curls and slides down Jayce’s shoulder, his bicep, before raking his shirt up and falling into the dip of his waist. Every tentative brush of fingers stokes the dormant fire in Jayce’s stomach some more.
The hand moves to his lower back, nails catching on Jayce’s pajama pants briefly on their way to his ass. A fraction of a second later, he feels a clever roll of plush hips against his own, and those blunt nails dig in his skin.
The pulsative sting they leave behind hikes up to his ears, muffling the sound of his own voice as he utters, “We should maybe, huh–”
Jayce blinks once, and Viktor’s watching him with the same molten eyes that have him agreeing to the wildest of ideas, moving heaven and earth to make his wishes come true.
Jayce blinks again, and suddenly, he’s on his back with the grounding weight of Viktor on his lap.
They’re sharing a kiss, hungry and urgent–a clash of bruised lips, possessive tongues, teeth biting and pulling. Jayce can feel Viktor’s smug lips curl against his own as a chorus of groans fills the air; he doesn’t even hear himself anymore with how loudly his heart’s still pounding in his ears.
And whether it’s the maddening pressure in his boxers when Viktor languidly moves his hips in tandem with the flicks of his tongue, or the new oppressive sensation in his chest from struggling to gather air… It’s getting rather uncomfortable to say the least.
“I still want to feel you later today,” Viktor croons against his lips, “I need it and it has been way too long.”
Those words barely register with Jayce. With his head gone all cottony, everything feels like he’s floating out of his body. The hot breath on his burning cheek and his painful hard-on are very much real, though.
Not to mention the impatient hands trying to rid them of both their pajama pants–
“Wait a second,” Jayce blurts out, eyes trained on Viktor’s mouth as he draws back a little. “I don’t feel–”
Then, like a badly-handled flipbook, the next bits of action jerkily unfold before Jayce’s eyes without the possibility for him to do anything else than watch.
Viktor’s hands leave Jayce abruptly, hugging himself instead. His thick eyebrows furrow in genuine, childlike confusion, before his kiss-bruised mouth opens around hasty words.
The sound of them only reaches Jayce with two or three heartbeats of delay:
“If you do not want me that way anymore, I would understand.”
Viktor seems just as taken aback as Jayce feels; expectancy flickers in his golden eyes though, like he’s waiting for Jayce to deliver the final blow.
“No, no. That’s not,” Jayce pauses in his tracks, mind rushing. “Why would you–”
But Jayce knows.
He has noticed how Viktor’s lucidity often gives way to unusual, intrusive thoughts these days.
Most of them seem to go away as fast as they come; futile things Viktor brushes away with a shake of the head or a snarky scoff. On occasion, he shares them with Jayce so they can laugh at the absurdity of his ‘postpartum brain’, as he calls it.
It never makes Jayce laugh. It only just breaks his heart.
Because he’s aware of how some of these thoughts cling, stubborn and sharp, taking root in the most sensitive areas of Viktor’s insecurities. Those, Jayce rarely hears about. Viktor keeps them close to his heart, letting them feast quietly on his self-esteem.
This is the first time he’s ever heard Viktor’s pain this loud, so Jayce handles the situation with all the attention it deserves, despite his own current stress-induced mind.
He pushes himself upright against the headboard, pulling Viktor along and drawing him even closer.
It’s a difficult thing to catch a glimpse of golden eyes then, avoidant when Jayce tries to meet them, or closed tight when a tanned hand brings his face up.
Jayce places one of Viktor’s hands on his own sternum, takes a long and steady breath in, lets it out just as slowly. Viktor gets the cue and follows him for the next ones, allowing their frenzied hearts to relax over time.
Viktor’s head lolls to the side, pressing his cheek right into the palm of Jayce’s hand. He says then, voice bafflingly low and final, “I do not know why I said that.”
“Viktor…” Jayce tries, tone gentle and filled with patience.
Yet his heart clenches at the thought of Viktor pushing him away, and the way his eyes stay stubbornly closed only confirms the soundness of Jayce’s apprehension.
Once again.
“Please, forget about it,” Viktor pleads.
So Jayce lets it go; swallows dry before kissing the skin between the man’s brows, then both of his eyelids. “Okay. Okay, let’s go eat something, hm?”
-
“What if it feels awful to you?” Jayce asks later in the kitchen, as he’s arranging them breakfast on the go. Once the moment’s gone, and that his mind had even more time to overthink the whole situation.
Because the thing is: prudence means nothing without a tiny bit of patience.
And after months of seeking touch for comfort mostly, and whenever the itch was too present, relying on quick and easy tricks to handle it, well… one could not really say that patience is something neither Jayce nor Viktor have in abundance.
Clearly.
There’s nothing Jayce wishes more than to give what Viktor wants and needs, but he’s also very aware of their bad habits.
The idea of sex, in the end, not feeling good to Viktor, of it hurting him because it’s too soon, of Jayce being too much, too greedy–
Ah. Maybe he’s been, in fact, brewing this specific scenario in his head for a while now.
“We need to think this over. The doctor said some people encounter discomfort, even pain. We need a plan of action first, just to be sure. Maybe we could wait until you’re done with your perineal rehabilitation. I believe it’ll be safer, you know, it’s still an open wound down th–”
When Viktor, who’s been clinging to him ever since they left the bedroom, lifts his eyes up to meet his, Jayce’s words stumble in his throat.
Viktor’s expression is one of the softest Jayce has ever seen on him; his eyes are golden honey, framed on each side by the faint crow’s-feet that settled there a few years ago. (Jayce likes to believe they appeared, and then grew deeper over the years, all because he makes Viktor smile so much.)
He’s studying Jayce with pure adoration and utter disbelief.
“Were you scared of hurting me?” Viktor asks, and there’s a shy tug at his lips when Jayce nods like it goes without saying.
“Of course I was. Am.”
And with the way the man shifts on the kitchen counter, moving his hip with a wince to face him properly, Jayce is sure he’s in for a bit of scolding.
The finger digging in his chest is another sign of it.
“You, unbelievable man,” Viktor whispers, hand now splayed flat on Jayce’s bare chest, “If there is pain, it won’t be because of you. I know your mind, I know your heart, and I trust you with the care of my body. More than I will ever trust myself, yes?”
Viktor’s always been the bravest in their relationship, anyway.
If it weren’t for his grit, Jayce would still be pining for this pretty colleague from the class across his own. He’d still be throwing heart eyes from afar, acting awfully flustered every time caught red-handed.
Which, unfortunately, happened on a daily basis.
Fortunately, though, Viktor had always had a sweet, sweet spot for blushing men who are thrice his size and a tiny bit clumsy around him.
“One of us has to temper the other sometimes, and you were the wise one today. Thank you.”
Jayce tries to steal Viktor a kiss in response, but he’s stopped by a swift hand pressed to his mouth. It then opens to squeeze his cheeks into the silliest pout, keeping him at bay.
“But,” Viktor adds, eyes unrelenting, “If you’re going down there with your mouth, again, I will make sure to give you other things to worry about.”
A light, snorting sound escapes Jayce as his wounded ego’s soothed by a quick kiss to his nose. Viktor eases himself off the counter, landing on tingling feet, and takes the crutch offered to him.
As he moves further in the living room, he can feel Jayce following very close behind, carrying their plates of fruits and scrambled eggs. He catches a glimpse of that boyish grin over his shoulder, tooth gap and dimples on full display.
“Oh… What d’you have in mind?” Jayce purrs.
“We have a young audience, Jayce.”
Their now (very) awake baby is kicking excitedly in the bouncer: a whole tiny hand stuffed into an even tinier mouth, and big, round eyes crinkling with delight.
Those two amber marbles are fixed on Jayce like they’re actively trying to send an important message through telepathy.
And sure enough, the very moment his hands are free, Jayce catches on to it and reaches out.
***
Back in early January, Viktor felt very pregnant.
Very restrained, and frustrated, and exhausted. He remembers catching himself thinking more often than not that it would not last much longer. Thankfully.
Excitement hummed under his skin too.
He could not count how many late evenings he spent on the sofa talking to the belly, with an equally excited Jayce pressed against it.
Telling the baby about all the last-minute changes they’ve made in the apartment in the nerve-wracking wait for the big day: another tiny bunny plushie to add to the never-ending collection, new blackout curtains for the nursery, or Jayce’s old glow-in-the-dark stars they thought about hanging on its ceiling.
Telling them to–please, please–hurry.
Little did he know his baby would keep him on his toes for the rest of the month, taking their sweet time before blessing the world with their first cry.
As he was pushing the forty-week mark of pregnancy, Viktor may or may not have cursed Jayce an indecent number of times for putting him in this situation in the first place.
And by the time the first day of February–and the first day of his new life–came around, ‘very’ pregnant ended up being a mere euphemism, a joke, to how he really felt.
The final stretch aside, Viktor had an overall gentle pregnancy.
Surely, it was the result of him taking the matter seriously from the very first moment he saw those two very bright red lines on the pregnancy tests.
No more half-hearted efforts when it came to his health, no ‘going with the flow’, no pushing the limits of his body like he still occasionally, stubbornly, did. It was not only about him now.
But instead, he did everything that would ensure a healthy baby and mom.
Stopped working early on; with his doctor’s advice, he was able to take the whole school year off. September to July. (He was not pleased at first, obviously.)
Focused on his changing body and what it needed: love, rest, good food, good care.
It was strangely invigorating. ‘Viktor, you are glowing’, was all people kept telling him. And he knew it to be true, he felt like it too.
If someone asked him what his secret was, he’d say first and foremost to have one’s own Jayce in life. Egotistical, he knew, since there’s only one like him, and Viktor had definitely hitched him for good.
Perhaps the best part of having a partner as devoted as Jayce was how much effort he put into keeping Viktor entertained. Without so much to do aside from waiting, Viktor started going around in circles rather quickly.
They never went to the cinema as often as they did during that period, and visits to Cait and Vi, Sky, or Mel were more frequent than ever too.
But his favorite moments remained those featuring only the two of them, the little rendez-vous that settled gradually. Like the way that, each week, Jayce would bring home the fruit or vegetable that was roughly the same size as the baby. So they could keep track of their growth, help them visualize what their love and Viktor’s own flesh was creating.
Before he knew it, Viktor was looking forward to the next ones. Never once did he try to find out in advance what Jayce would bring; he didn’t want to spoil the surprise.
A routine settled then, with Jayce buying fruits in big patches on purpose, just to get a load of Viktor’s cute perplexed face as they were figuring out what kind of recipe would get rid of them all.
(One day, Jayce almost buried Viktor in strawberries. They had to eat them in record time before they went bad, and Viktor had heartburn for days after that. It wasn’t even the accurate fruit too, but Jayce wished to cover all the ones he’d missed before learning about the pregnancy.)
And it was easy enough to make use of a dozen lemons, in the middle of summer; one can always turn them into a refreshing lemonade.
But that time Jayce came back from the market with a net full of eggplants, only to realize neither of them really liked them in the first place… They had to call it quits. One or two were more than enough.
It was all about the gesture after all.
A little help was always around the corner, as well. With the leftover bananas and pineapples, or even carrots, Ximena would bake heavenly cakes.
All kinds of cakes, in fact, greeting them with a different one each week.
Fluffy, fudgy, colorful tarts… But always, always, tooth-rottingly sweet.
Viktor welcomed them all with gluttonous eyes, his sugar cravings getting worse each day, if that were even possible. And if Jayce tried to keep up with both his mother’s offerings and Viktor’s appetite, he rather quickly forfeited to all that sugar.
Ximena, for her part, seemed to have discovered a real new passion for baking. Her son often teased her about it, how she would end up the perfect cliche of the doting grandma showering her grandchild with sugary treats after school.
“Claro que sí. Now, in the meantime, let me take care of the only grateful son I have.” She’d always retort, leading to Jayce rolling his eyes so hard they might have left his skull. “Here, Viktor. Those are coconut macaroons, perfect bites to go with tea or coffee. My friend, Emilia, tried them last–”
And it would go on like this, every single time.
Her looking so earnestly delighted to watch Viktor indulge in her little culinary experiments.
It was only later on in pregnancy that Jayce and Viktor discovered why exactly Ximena was so committed to this little routine of hers. According to the many folk tales she likes to believe, sweet cravings while pregnant had a very clear meaning.
And Ximena Talis was, in fact, growing even more certain each day that the next addition to her family tree would be a little girl.
She was thrilled by this prospect, scolding Jayce any time he would try to reason with her, gently saying she could and should not rely on mere myths.
Safe to say she would never, ever let her son live down the moment he finally shared the baby’s gender with her.
Viktor still remembers that day, and the weird feeling he got in his stomach from laughing too much.
In retrospect, it must have been the very first time he felt their precious daughter kick.
-
Postpartum though… It is a different matter entirely.
While pregnancy softened him, its aftermath now has him raw and open, with all damaged pieces rearranging themselves at their own pace and will.
Viktor naively expected recovery to be linear. But truly, it never is. He should know that better than anyone. Healing always comes with its fair share of frustrating ups and downs, not to mention the stretches of stagnation in between.
The physical pain he can handle, mostly; it’s the waiting, the psychological pressure of it, that undoes him most. Waiting for the body to heal. Waiting for the mind to heal, specifically.
Apart from that, everything is fine.
More than fine.
Viktor focuses on his little baby girl, how fast she’s growing, how easy she is on him despite the confusion it must be to move from her safe cocoon to a whole new, much wider, much colder, world.
He marvels at what his body is capable of, even if it still feels slow to recover.
And again, Jayce is… Jayce is incredible.
Viktor wouldn’t have done it without his encouragement, his love. He wouldn’t have done it all if it weren’t for him. He makes everything easier to bear.
Still, after a much-needed paternal leave, Jayce had to return to work last month.
Being physically away from him during the day has been hurting Viktor much more than he ever was prepared for, especially after he’d spent the biggest part of the last few months glued to him, too clingy for both their sakes.
And while Viktor eases back to a new kind of routine, one that will soon change anyway once it’s his turn to tread the University’s halls again, Jayce somehow still manages to alleviate a surprising amount of the usual everyday burdens at home.
Viktor doesn’t exactly know where he finds the time and energy to do so, but it is as if he never leaves to go back to work in the morning. It cannot possibly be human to keep up a frenzied rhythm like he does without breaking down.
Thus, yes–over the past weeks or so, it’s Jayce who’s been worrying Viktor.
He’s seen him tire himself out, waking up earlier than necessary to tend to the baby, just for Viktor to have extra hours of sleep. Dealing with most of the apartment chores, squeezing in grocery runs after work, so that Viktor can stay at home and rest when he’s feeling down.
Cooking, cleaning, loving him, and loving their baby girl.
He still works out assiduously too, helps his students in his free time, calls his mom when he hasn’t seen her in a while (more than two days feels like too long for him), indulges in Viktor’s weekend activity ideas for the three of them to do…
Jayce never stops, and Viktor’s nerves fray by the minute.
***
This is how Viktor ends up on a walk with his mother-in-law on a random Tuesday morning.
He’s hiding his red-rimmed eyes from her, all while struggling to hold back his tears every time she alludes to the plans she’s making for all of them to celebrate Easter this weekend.
He doesn’t have the heart to think about the coming days. In truth, he doesn’t have the heart to dwell on his future with the Talis’ at all, afraid he soon won't be considered one anymore.
Suppressing the devastating sob presently clawing its way out his body is no easy task then.
Ximena, who’s a little ahead of him as she pushes the stroller, pauses in her rambling and turns to him. Viktor’s poor attempt to pass it off as a coughing fit dies the instant he hears her exhale by the nose.
She’d probably have enough of him by now. That’s what her pursed lips seem to say anyway, an almost perfect twin-expression of the one Jayce wore this very morning. But Viktor fails to see the much gentler quality to its soft creases as he’s already ducking his head deeper into his scarf, eyes fixed on the steady grip he has on his crutch.
“Let us find a bench farther down the park. I’m a bit weary,” Ximena says, discarding their one-sided discussion altogether.
Viktor only finds the strength in himself to nod; not that she would have taken a no for an answer.
The park’s surprisingly busy. Workers from the neighbourhood make good use of their lunch time to stretch their legs a little, the bravest ones jog along the edge of the lake.
They find a quiet nook under a blooming willow tree, the only sound around them being the bristling wheeze of the wind on the branches. Ximena waits for him to settle, as he lowers his hips to the cool wooden surface of the bench with a quiet huff.
Late-March is sharp in its still colder temperature, but the bright rays of sun peeking through the clouds are a pleasant sensation on the skin.
“Will you finally tell me what’s so heavy on your mind?” Viktor makes an awkward dismissive wave of the hand, but Ximena catches it instantly with both of hers. “Oh no, sweetheart. I have eyes, and ears, I can tell you’ve been crying.” She squeezes his hand. “And if it has something to do with my son, please go ahead, give me another reason to pull at his ears.”
It takes Viktor a few tries to mirror the woman’s sly smile, but he’s sure it didn’t turn out exactly like he wanted it to. Hard to play the part when it’s him who’s on the faulty side, knowing she will hate him comes she knows.
“We had a, eh,” His voice’s a trembling thing before he gets a half-decent grip on it, “a sort of fight, sometimes in the night.”
Ximena brushes the lone tear sliding on his cheek with her thumb. He’s so used to them drowning his face that he doesn’t even flinch at the dampness this time. “What was it about? It cannot be that bad, hm?”
He can’t help the grimace tearing at his face, and after a bout of hesitation, he finally tells her about the frenzied loop in which Jayce has fallen into.
The way he started to forget small things, like the name of the show they’ve both been loving for so long, or where precisely he parks the car every time they go downtown. Or the time he came back home, wearing death on his face, and told Viktor how he couldn’t remember his own phone number when the guy from the post office asked for it.
How, despite passing out on the bed the moment he lies down for the night, Jayce has developed the bad habit of waking up each and every time their daughter does, just to hold Viktor in his arms as he feeds her.
Even if he doesn’t have to. Even when he seriously needs a well-rested night of sleep.
And then came last night.
Viktor woke up before Isa could open her mouth to call for him, his inner clock growing sharper each passing day. Her sleepy eyes fixed on him as he scooped her over to the bed, following mommy’s silent request to stay quiet so Papa could keep sleeping beside them.
But it was no use; Jayce was up before they knew it. He cradled Viktor in his arms once again and nuzzled the top of his head, breathing in deep and slow. Viktor almost caved. Almost let himself press his back into this warm, solid shelter of a man.
But he pulled away, determined to call Jayce out on his stubbornness.
He appealed to Jayce’s senses first, knowing damn well it would lead nowhere. Because Jayce’s reason never stands a chance when his heart is involved.
And things took an entirely different turn from there.
Fatigue and concern make a poor mix, at least for Viktor.
It didn’t last long, and they didn’t exactly raise their voices, not wanting to upset their daughter further. Still, it doesn’t stop Viktor from playing over and over the last sentences that left their mouths in his head.
I don’t need you to stay awake every time I’m feeding Isabela.
Yeah. You clearly don’t. I’ll be on the couch then.
No. Blaming his outburst on exhaustion is not fair, and the words Viktor chose were needlessly cruel.
In fact, he doesn’t even dare speak them plainly to Ximena. She certainly has enough imagination to fill up the blank spaces; those he left behind in hopes it will delay the moment she will realize that maybe he’s just a heartless man who’s unworthy of her son’s love and time.
But she only lets him take a moment to breathe, waiting to see if he’ll feel the urge to open up further. The tender gaze she gives is nothing like what he expected, and it works wonders, calming his racing heart in an instant.
“He had to leave quite early this morning, so we did not–” Viktor trails off, sniffing, tired of reliving the same argument all over again.
He had hoped they would perhaps find five little minutes to make things right before parting for the day–not to solve everything, of course, but just to let the other know how miserable they felt, and promise they would work things out later.
Viktor did not sleep, strictly speaking. He tossed and turned in bed, wondering whether he should go to Jayce or not. He never mustered the courage to get up, and by the time Jayce left in the morning, he had somehow fallen asleep at last.
Leaving him guilt-stricken, sobbing, alone with a fussy baby who only started to relax once her grandmother’s soothing arms freed her from his all too febrile ones.
There’s nothing he seems to be doing right, lately.
“My late husband and I fought too, you see,” Ximena eventually says, “Over stupid things, mostly. But harsh words happened once in a while–especially after Jayce arrived.”
She takes her granddaughter out of the stroller, finally catching on to her (very) loud desire to be a part of the little reunion.
“He was an easy baby, much like mi cosita linda, hm?” She plants a kiss to her open palm, glancing softly at Viktor in what can only be quiet pride. “Much more clingy, however. We couldn’t put him down for a moment without him crying and crying and crying about it. It broke my heart every time. Once he found out how to stand on his tiny feet though, I was the one left crying. He became too quick for me to follow.
“But, hm, you know, the first years or so were still difficult. A couple’s life with a baby changes, a person’s life with a baby changes. And fights are inevitable at times, they are what force you to set new boundaries. As partners, as parents… as individuals too.”
Viktor sniffs again, eyes darting toward the pair of ducks resting by the lake. Soon they’ll have ducklings of their own trailing behind them.
“Did you need new boundaries then?”
“Oh, mijo, of course I did. My man was suffocating me more times than not at first,” Ximena chuckles. “And I was… figuring out a lot of things at once. So we talked. We voiced our needs and fears. I can only advise you both to do the same, however hard it is to name them. You both won’t grow without having this open-hearted discussion.”
Healthy, considerate communication is what they’ve spent years building together. Something that developed shyly at first, just as they learned how to be part of each other’s lives. But also something that eventually grew into a whole new language; one made of blind trust and deep understanding, where mere glances, silences and touches could carry the same weight as words.
Perhaps they’ve been too confident in this language of theirs, especially in taking a monumental step like starting a family, before they learned how much it would ask of them. They can’t solely rely on it now.
Viktor nods just as Ximena reaches for him, fingertips brushing his hair away from his face.
“Jayce is not suffocating me,” he feels compelled to say a minute or two later, in defense of the man he certainly would never grow tired of. “I’m only worried.”
Ximena hums, then hands him Isa, who squeals and wiggles when his steady hands wrap around her. “I know, sweetheart. He’s probably worried about you too.”
***
When Jayce comes home later that day, Viktor is standing awkwardly in the hallway, waiting for him with their daughter dozing off in her sling, curled up against his chest.
Having her here is clearly not ideal, but he didn’t really have a choice. She wouldn’t let go of him all afternoon, to the point where even setting her down to change her diaper had her react like it was a personal betrayal. It’s as if she took notes on what Ximena recalled earlier, and suddenly decided to act like her father did when he was roughly her age.
And here they are now, staring at each other in open silence, with Isa’s heavy baby-breathing filling the space between them. A tiny reminder of what is at stake.
“How was your day?” Viktor tries, voice thin and wavering, already doubting his chosen approach.
But the question hangs in the air like an olive branch Jayce is all too eager to take. If it weren’t for Viktor’s rapidity and the way he cornered Jayce the moment he got back, he would have offered the whole tree himself.
Jayce only manages a few syllables at first, his voice croaking from hours of disuse. “Horrible.”
It’s the most truthful word he could’ve picked. His students were the first witnesses to it; far from his usual good mood, he didn’t even bother pretending. He scrapped the original program for the day, preferring to stay at his desk, sulking, while they worked in almost complete silence.
His day consisted of little else. Each class brought a new surprise and hastily assembled assignment, his students too confused (or maybe sympathetic) to gently get on his nerves the way they usually did.
And his head kept drifting somewhere else, but never too far from home. Exactly where he wished, more than anything, to be.
His steps are heavy but swift as he crosses the distance, not even taking off his vest or his shoes.
Having learned his lessons the hard way, Jayce knows better than to impose his presence too much and too soon. So when he finds himself standing before Viktor, hands restless with the urge to touch, to mend, Jayce strives to hold that energy back, to keep it at bay.
But as Viktor’s eyes well with dozens of pearly tears, like he’s being denied the very thing he’s been waiting for all day, Jayce suddenly can’t bear that ridiculous distance anymore. He cradles Viktor’s flushed face in his hands and kisses him sweetly, apologetically, wherever he can reach.
“I hated every second of mine too,” Viktor whispers, his heart fluttering to a new wave of relief.
“It’ll all be better now.” Jayce promises, lips pressed to Viktor’s temple. “Come on. Let’s warm you up with good food, and then some cuddles, okay?”
Rubbing his nose to Jayce’s shirt collar like a contented cat, Viktor breathes in the familiar perfume clinging to the fabric, only humming his agreement when Jayce suggests a second time that they move from the middle of the hallway.
There’s a twist coming, though, and Jayce expects it to land soon enough. Just like it always does.
Between soft kisses to Jayce’s neck and quiet sniffs, Viktor finally asks, “Could we perhaps, eh, skip ahead to snuggling and order something to eat instead?”
“Whatever my baby wishes, he gets.” Jayce smiles to himself, having already reached for his phone in his pocket.
They certainly move around each other with an awkward kind of awareness all evening, the inevitability of the coming conversation making its home in the back of their minds.
The usual conversations about what enormity Jayce’s students came up with that day, or Isa’s new funny quirk. Viktor seated on the far right of the sofa, sore legs draped across Jayce’s lap for him to work his magic with his hands, the shared kiss when one leaves the shower as the other heads toward it…
It all happens.
Their routine’s still honored and cherished, but with a simmering restlessness behind each gesture.
The first to address the elephant in the room is Jayce, once Isa is dead to the world in the crib in their bedroom, far enough away not to sense any kind of tension. If it ever comes to it.
Yet, they are so deeply weary and miserable from their day, that all that comes from their heart is never above a whisper. With how close they’re cuddling up on the couch, they do not need much anyway.
“Sometimes,” Jayce starts, only to stop briefly when Viktor’s eyes look up to him, “I find it hard not to think she’s more yours than she is mine.”
What an absurd thing to say, Viktor thinks then. Their daughter’s a carbon copy of Jayce; bronze skin, devastating smiles and loving eyes are evidence enough of it for everyone to come up with this conclusion.
“You spend so much time with her, I–and I’m not referring to me coming back to the Uni, and thus not being around so much. That's not–it’s not the problem here… If it’s really a problem at all, ha. But there’s an undeniable bond between you two, you know, breastfeeding and everything.”
The true meaning of Jayce’s words dawns on Viktor all of a sudden; the thing that he cherishes probably and selfishly the most about their daughter, doesn’t mean half as much to Jayce as it does to him. It never was this futile.
“I feel useless, like I–I don’t know. As if…”
“You do not fit in?” Viktor supplies, his voice impossibly quiet.
Hearing your pain put into words by someone else often feels as validating as it is uncomfortable. Jayce can only nod to Viktor’s astuteness, and hope his feelings don’t come across as overbearing, or worse, selfish.
He feels the urge to expand on them, to excuse them. “Just to be clear, I am not jealous of what you and Isabela have. I–I don’t know. I’m only that one guy who happens to live with you.”
“You cannot be serious.” Viktor’s throat pulses around a knot of sadness, seeing his better half before him, hands massaging his temples and eyes wet with guilt. “Jayce, your daughter’s enamoured with you. It becomes more obvious each day she grows and becomes fully aware of her surroundings. And she is merely two months old. Soon enough, she’ll lose interest in the milk factory I actually am to her, and I will need to schedule a meeting for a chance to have you all to myself.”
The arm around Viktor’s back tightens further, and a long, trembling sigh brushes the hair at the top of his head. He feels Jayce’s hand, the one that’s been dutifully stroking his waist, slip past the hem of his sweatshirt.
“You’re not a milk factory,” Jayce says as he rubs warmth directly into his skin.
“Out of everything I have said, you chose to come back to this?” Two glints of amber, sharp and molten with affection, scold Jayce gently. Still, the man only shrugs, acting like it’s plain as day.
“Yeah. Because that’s not true.”
“Alright. Tell this to my poor, battered breasts then, see what they respond.”
Jayce bites back the lewd retort dancing on his tongue as best as he can, and when he sees Viktor’s lips twitching all too knowingly, he definitely feels like he’s almost fallen for another very well-crafted bait.
Yet, Viktor can distract him all he wants from the true depth of his usual jests, but this time, Jayce plans on shining a light on them either way.
“As for the other matter,” resumes Viktor, a heartbeat ahead of Jayce’s own intention. “I do need you. There is nothing you have to compensate for, especially not your said ‘uselessness’. Jayce, listen to me.” He catches Jayce’s stubbled chin with firm fingers, tilting his head toward him as he, too, is about to make an important point. “You cannot overwork yourself helping me around like you have nothing else to worry about. And I am talking about your health, here.”
“What about yours?” Jayce responds, words tumbling out hurriedly as there’s finally a perfect opening presented to him.
It makes Viktor flinch, blinking at the sudden reversal. The two-sided purpose of this conversation almost slipped from his mind for a moment, and now it all comes crashing back in a particularly mean whiplash.
He thinks back to this morning, to Ximena, to the trust bleeding from her words and the firm conviction in her voice when she said they’d find a way to make things work.
So he allows himself to be seen, and felt by Jayce in return, welcoming those big hands clutching his sleeves to keep him from withdrawing again.
“Viktor, you’re scaring me sometimes. You barely talk to me, and when you do, you seem so detached and–It feels like you believe those bullshit ideas of you that your brain produces. They’re not jokes to me, you know.”
“Let me remind you how–how,” Jayce pauses, his breaths short, brows pulled tight and eyes falling shut. “How admirably beautiful, witty and considerate you are, every time that voice in your head tells you otherwise.”
Viktor knows this image well–the way it constantly plays out in Jayce’s mind, and how Jayce has always tried to share it with the world. With him.
Now, all Viktor wants is to see it clearly too.
When the silence stretches heavy, Jayce adds, desperation taking a tint of hazel, “Don’t shut down, please.”
Hot tears well in Viktor’s eyes for the umpteenth time that day, and before they can fall, he moves forward and hugs Jayce.
Pours all the sorrows he’s been simmering in for so long into the embrace, only for them to be caught immediately by Jayce, wielding enough strength for both of them.
“I won’t again, I promise,” Viktor manages to let out between sobs, “I love you so much.”
***
What this argument has brought doesn’t feel so bleak anymore. They both see the outcomes of it as their own prescriptions for each other:
Jayce needs to sleep, more than anything else.
Only after he succeeds in that task will he be able to identify a healthy, functioning way to support both Viktor and the baby, all the while listening to his body and the limits it imposes on him.
He’s also been prescribed, by Viktor himself, more quality time with his daughter. Alone. To strengthen their bond and allow Jayce to grow even more confident around her.
What Viktor wants the most is to put the pieces of himself back together.
He needs to remember all the things he is capable of aside from growing a baby, and he needs to be kinder to himself as he takes time to figure out how to make his old self coexist with the brand new role he was given.
He aches to feel beautiful again.
(Not so surprisingly, Jayce volunteered to lend a hand, from time to time, with that particular issue. Said he had some ‘tricks up his sleeves’. Viktor couldn't deny the kind gesture, of course.)
Apart from that, Viktor does want to try to rely a little less on Jayce.
For both Viktor’s independence, and Jayce’s peace of mind.
***
Jayce was never one to believe he would eventually revel in playing dress-up with babies, having awful childhood memories of very uncomfortable clothes preventing him from climbing up trees or running as fast as he could whenever he wished to.
Being pampered like a doll every Sunday by a rather put-together type of parent, when everything you want is to jump feet first into the muddy puddle in front of the church, is something he would never wish on anybody.
Especially not his own children.
But, well. Isabela does look really cute and fashionable in the strawberry onesie he picked out for her.
This, he knows, is nothing but comfortable and baby-friendly; a much welcome attention given the attire her grandma prepared for her to wear at her first Easter tomorrow. Already.
It’s a very different kind of occasion too, anyway: today is their very first daddy-daughter excursion. While Viktor will be staying here, in the quiet of the apartment, they plan to go out and explore the world, and maybe, turn a few heads along the way.
(Especially Isa, really. People tend to swoon over her, telling them what a cute baby she is, how she’ll soon be stealing hearts wherever she goes, like she isn’t already doing just that.
Jayce never once misses a chance to explain she evidently takes after her Mama.)
Her first victim of the day is Viktor himself, of course.
He sets the tone for the next few hours by covering her chubby cheeks with kisses first, then immediately pulling out his phone to capture the moment, something they’ll come back to years from now.
“Are you sure about this, V?” Jayce asks once more as they’re about to leave.
“This–what?” Viktor repeats, his eyes then falling to the pouch on the table where he laid all sorts of tools, understanding where Jayce’s perplexity comes from. “Ah. Was it not your idea? Starting small?”
“Well, yeah.” Jayce worries his lips, and adds a bit later, “But, I was thinking you’d go to a professional. You know, get yourself pampered, not lifting a finger…”
Viktor tuts and grabs the wobbly pair of scissors, testing its give and sharpness with quite agile movements. Despite the faint creaking sound it gives, Viktor seems pleased and confident. The same cannot be said about Jayce, who’s just eyeing this old thing with poorly concealed distrust.
“I will not spend hundreds on something I have always managed myself. This is hardly different, it is only a little, eh...” He catches a strand of soft brown hair between his fingers, lifting it up to examine it. “Longer, than what I am used to dealing with.”
“You’re cutting it all?” Jayce frowns, not really convinced about that possibility either.
“Hm, I have not made up my mind yet. We shall see,” Viktor says, his mind already wandering in the logistics of it.
Please don’t, Jayce thinks but does not say. This is something Viktor has to figure out by himself, he cannot just interfere in the equation with his own silly preferences. It’s just hair. Besides, not even his.
“Right, then. We’ll be off your back for a little while, so, be careful, okay?”
Viktor smiles, fondness mixed with a hint of worry in his voice as he says, “Have fun my loves.”
After far-too-long goodbyes, the apartment door closing behind them and, most importantly, reviewing the list of things he shouldn’t forget, Jayce has no other choice but to move forward and honor their plans for the morning.
“It’s only you and me now. Where do you want to go?” He asks his daughter. “I was thinking of the educational farm, there’s a lot of cute animals there for you to see. What d’you think?”
Isabela merely watches him with her big doe eyes, not understanding a thing of Jayce’s anxious rambling, but instead studying every inch of his face like she is trying to make sense of his mood.
He smiles big, overly cheerful, and says, “I think it’ll be fun.”
“Ah!” She cries and wiggles in her baby carrier, the perfect partner in crime one could ever have.
Jayce chuckles and kisses the top of her head.
-
“Oh! Look, Belly!” Jayce twists awkwardly to let Isabela catch a glimpse of the animals behind the fence. “It’s us, but as sheep! The tiny white one is you, it’s a baby too. And then there’s its mama, see? It’s hiding beneath her legs. Now… where am I?”
With the bright spring sun washing his vision white, Jayce squints, hoping to see another sheep. “Oh, right. I’m the bodyguard over there. Those people are way too close to its family. He’ll probably charge if they ever try something foolish. I would too, if need be. Mama and you will always be safe with me.”
The sheep sadly do not stay out much longer, nudging Jayce to move away from their enclosure. Isa, to no one's surprise, didn’t seem to have much interest in them anyway.
“I wonder if that wool coat Mel bought you still fits. I should’ve thought of trying it this morning, you’d have matched with them, ha. Or…maybe it’s too warm for it now.” They’re nearing the bunnies now, and Jayce feels suddenly very… lonely, “Belly?”
When he looks down to adjust her beanie, nudging it higher on her forehead, he finds her fast asleep, her tiny cheek pressed to his heart. He whispers, his own heart threatening to spill out of his throat from too much cuteness, “Oh.”
Belly’s a true sleeper, rarely bothered by noises around her. Not even a vacuum–she’s fallen asleep to it more than once since coming home for the first time. Viktor and Jayce both realize how easy they have it, for first-time parents. But yes, it also means struggling a little to introduce more stimulating things into her world.
It’s only when Jayce eventually leaves the farm, having made the tour twice, that the not-so-little bundle in his arms starts to stir.
It’ll probably be easier to catch her attention once she’s a bit older. At least that’s what they’ve been telling themselves so as not to freak out over her sleeping habits, which is probably more ideal than her never resting at all.
“These are birds,” Jayce explains when, on their way back home, he notices her jump a little every time particularly chatty birds sing. “Do you like them?”
“Hmpf.” She lolls her head towards the sound. “Ah!”
“They’re too small and quick for you to see just yet, but we could try talking to them?” Jayce whistles an easy melody, and Isa’s attention settles instantly on him.
She seems thoroughly perplexed, so Jayce does it again, earning a pleased squeal when the birds respond in the distance. Then one tiny hand lands on Jayce's lips, and he can’t help but nip at her finger a little, pretending to eat her hand whole.
“Are you telling me to shut up?” Jayce jokes.
The only response he gets is another surprisingly gentle touch to his mouth, followed by a bubbly coo. When he whistles again, hoping he won’t get her signature wild slap this time, she offers him the sweetest, biggest smile he’s ever seen.
In hindsight, he might just end up eating her whole.
“Alright, I’ll teach you how to do it, and Mama how to recognize birds based on their singing. I don’t know shi–uh, wow,“ Jayce stammers, seconds away from a language disaster. ”I mean… birds aren’t really my area of expertise.”
Nearing their apartment complex, they make a short stop to get Viktor his infamous pregnancy-craving garlic bread. Jayce is far too pleased to finally introduce the owner, Nonna Griselda, the very reason he’s been coming by so often for months on end. She’s heard a lot about the arrival of this little girl and, upon seeing her, she immediately urges them to come by more frequently.
(Jayce did blush hard when she advised him to get his dear Viktor pregnant again, just to make sure he’ll keep his promise.)
-
It only takes hearing the door slap shut over the speakers for Viktor’s quiet anxiety to settle, and for good. Seeing his two favorite people leave their little cocoon certainly has put him in a rather dim mood, and taking care of himself in this condition has appeared to be quite the challenge.
So, yes, he cannot say he isn’t relieved to know they’re back, or that he did not see the time passing by at all.
“Viktor! We’re home!”
“Don’t come in, I am not quite done yet!” He reaches to turn down the music on his phone. “How was your date?”
“Oh. You know… chill,” Viktor hears Jayce's voice from somewhere behind the door.
The image of them walking around town looking like some sort of twins, with their red-and-beige matching jackets and dashing smiles, certainly brings one to Viktor’s lips. He seriously has to fight the urge to just leave the mess he’s made in the bathroom and rush out to crush them both in his arms.
“Hm, no need to play coy, Jayce. I can sense that smile when you speak. I’m sure it reaches your ears too,” he says instead, rinsing out the bowl and the brush he used earlier.
He’ll have to make sure to open the window, to let fresh air chase the chemical scent away and to make it safe for Isa’s nighttime bath. Might as well toss the once deep-blue towel too, which, unfortunately, did not survive today’s experiments.
“We went to the farm and saw a lot of cute animals. Or rather, I di–" Jayce is cut off by some perfectly timed baby squeals that rise each time he tries to speak again. “Don’t push your agenda, Belly. Tell him how loud you were snoring the whole time. What a date, huh…”
“Ah. Poor baby.” Viktor bites his lips, suppressing a laugh. “She must have fallen asleep to your rambling. It is a rite of passage, romancing you, after all.”
“Hey!” Jayce calls, voice suddenly sharp and right by him, “It happened once, and you admitted it’s what made you fall for me!”
When Viktor finally comes out of the bathroom, he sees Jayce sitting on the couch with Isa facing him on his lap, her back resting against his thighs. They’re speaking–no, Jayce is whistling a gentle melody while Isa responds with her own high-pitched noises.
They’re certainly quite the irresistible sight.
“Oops, Mama’s coming!” Jayce blurts out when he overhears the soft taps of Viktor’s cane on the wooden floor.
Once near enough, Viktor notices the big, gentle hand hovering over their daughter’s eyes, comically covering more than half of her head. Jayce has his eyes shut tight too, and Viktor can tell by the way his eyelids flicker that he’s heroically fighting his greater enemy. Impatience.
“Isa’s first,” Viktor announces as he moves his cane away and sits next to them, to which Jayce nods and lets go of their daughter. She blinks and frowns a little as her eyes re-adapt to the light, but she never once pays attention to Viktor, preferring to stare calmly at something on the ceiling.
“Well?” Jayce pries as they wait and wait some more for her reaction. It is only when Viktor gently calls her name that she finally turns to him and gives a gurgling smile, her little hands fluttering in the air.
“I do not think it makes a real difference to her,” Viktor chuckles, bowing down to tickle her tiny face with a lock of his hair. Isa grabs it with her fist as tightly as she can and proceeds to put it in her mouth. But Viktor’s way too quick for her, so the attempt is aborted in time, “My, my, misiu. You are growing strong. You ought to save that spirit for your tummy times too, hm?”
“No, she definitely likes it,” Jayce decides suddenly, deadly certainty in his voice. “Alright. My turn now!”
Viktor doesn’t have time to agree that Jayce’s curious big eyes are immediately everywhere on him. Appreciating first, then quickly burning with adoration.
But it’s the slow, indulgent whistle Jayce lets out that has Viktor’s skin buzzing, a bright red hue crawling up his neck to his cheeks.
And when a tan hand eventually shoots up to twirl one of the few hidden blonde strands between its fingers, Viktor scoots closer on the couch, trusting Jayce to catch him as he leans in blindly.
“Do you like it?“
“Nuh-huh,” Jayce says, shaking his head. He tucks the lock behind Viktor’s ear, and Viktor’s heart does a funny, clumsy flip at the gesture. “Tell me how you feel first.”
Jayce’s not exactly subtle about his approbation–he’s practically beaming. Viktor would be a fool not to let himself bask in his gaze, to cherish the earnest pride Jayce wears simply by looking at him.
“Like your beautiful, controversially young wife,” Viktor bites his lips to hold back a rather undignified laugh. A vain effort, because once Jayce starts giggling like he’s falling in love with him for the first time again, they both cannot stop. He eventually continues, with an honesty that pleasantly surprises him, “I feel good. I like the novelty of it.”
“Yeah, I do too. You are beautiful.” Jayce brushes Viktor’s hair with his fingers again, feeling the softness of its length as the luscious perfume of his conditioner teases his nose. “I was not prepared for this though, I thought you were only trimming. Did you use bleach?”
Viktor only nods, snaking one arm around Jayce’s shoulders and playing with the growing fringe he’s been harboring for a while too. This complements his slightly longer, fuller beard; Jayce has never looked so imposing.
Bawdy.
“It is rather straightforward to use, in fact. You merely have to be thorough with the measurements, and make certain to do a strand test beforehand so that–“ Viktor’s sentence dies on his tongue the moment he realizes the tell-tale sign of desire gnawing at his stomach.
And there’s Jayce too, mouth slightly agape, pupils hiding behind heavy lashes, wearing that silly expression he always has when he’s too caught up in Viktor to bother paying attention to whatever he’s saying.
“Perhaps we could try on you next time. I could give you some highlights, too. Around the face, just so?” Viktor whispers, air becoming thinner and thinner as he desperately tries to stay sane and not leap onto Jayce.
In front of their daughter of all people.
“Isn’t the baby enough proof we’re screwing each other?” Jayce asks just as softly, after having covered Isa’s ears with his hands to spare her her parents’ corny flirting. “You want our hair to match now?”
“Eh, it does not sound so appalling to me.” A smile, something wolfish and crooked, draws at Viktor’s lips slowly. “Besides, are we really?”
***
It’s only natural that the second step of their healing journey follows soon after.
One can blame Jayce’s eyes, constantly roaming over Viktor, stripping him naked ever since the little hair makeover. Or the way Viktor is glowing, strutting in the apartment with renewed confidence and keen provocation, for Jayce to drink it all in.
A vicious circle, indeed, that’s ever growing hungrier by the minute.
They’re never ones to quit after a failed attempt anyway…
-
The next day, Jayce hurriedly leaves their bed to move the sleepy baby to her own bedroom. Viktor, in the meantime, is making quick work of getting rid of his pajama shirt, forgetting the pants completely as he suddenly remembers something important.
“God.” He hears Jayce, who’s already back and nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe, while Viktor’s still rummaging through the nightstand drawer for the much-coveted bottle of lube. “Have I already told you how much of a menace you are?”
“Ah, perhaps once or twice.” Viktor grins over his shoulder, throwing the bottle at a very dazzled Jayce, and without much preamble, getting himself comfortable in bed. “Won’t you come now, hm? We unfortunately do not have all day.”
–
Jayce’s shirt is lying somewhere on the bedroom floor along with Viktor’s. His eager fingers knead the taut muscles of Viktor’s back, fondling the curve of his ass through his pants. Each press and squeeze is deliberate, attentive to the breathy sounds slipping from Viktor’s lips.
With those broad and bare shoulders looming over him now, Viktor can only let himself be dragged along the mattress a little, guided toward the folded knee nested between his thighs.
He fights the urge to press his hips further down, to grind against the muscle that’s tauntingly close, and instead settles on taking it slow.
Just like Jayce asked of him. As difficult as that is.
Especially with the ghost-like pressure on his needy cunt and the promise of what’s to come–barely contained by the stretchy fabric of Jayce’s boxers. It’s all Viktor sees when Jayce sits back on his heels.
Having his own cards up his sleeve, Viktor makes a show of sprawling his arms on the bed: pale hands fall limp above his head, body open and inviting and confident. Lips set into a deliberate, bratty pout. He watches as Jayce's throat bobs, the way moss-green eyes follow the labored rise and fall of his rib cage, then flutter once they land briefly–almost shyly–on his bare breasts.
Briefly, yes, but long enough for Viktor to notice and his smugness to give way to a tide of goosebumps.
Jayce’s voice comes rough around the edges when he croons, “You should see yourself, right now. So pretty. So still.”
It doesn’t matter how many times those burning eyes land on him, Viktor always finds himself stunned upon seeing the sheer recognition behind them.
It never once changed, never once faltered.
Just one of those constants in Viktor’s life, something to hold on to when embracing his own self becomes too arduous. And Viktor can tell Jayce is being diligently overt these days, letting him know how much he adores him. With his eyes, with his hands, with his words.
His belly swoops at the thought of Jayce taking such good care of his mind, and how lucky he is to build a life with him. A lone tear threatens to fall, but Jayce wipes it away with a careful press of his thumb.
“Go on, now. Move for me.”
Jayce’s hands land on his thighs, bringing them up and down in soothing, encouraging movements as Viktor finally gets to set the pace for them both.
The first slow, tentative roll of Viktor’s hips against his knee threatens to make Jayce’s caution crumble to dust.
And it’s intoxicating, really, how his spine arches on the bed when Jayce shoves his knee further up, meeting his grinding halfway. One lithe hand finds a pillow, clasping it so tight that the knuckles turn white, while the other’s nails rake against the leather of Jayce’s wristband.
He can’t say he doesn’t like watching Viktor take what he needs from him, working for his pleasure on his own. A mere spectator of what plays underneath him, getting off to the flood of sighs pooling from Viktor’s open mouth.
This time is no exception, his cock keeps twitching in his boxers, his hands tingle with the itch of reaching out. Of easing Viktor open, make this good, make this safe.
“Jayce,” Viktor moans sweetly as the knee is all of a sudden replaced by a big hand and deft fingers. They’re stroking, unhurried, through the thin cloth of his pants. “Touch me.”
“I am, baby.”
Viktor shakes his head, nose scrunched up, and before Jayce knows it, their mouths clash in a clumsy, pressing kiss. “More.”
Jayce complies and answers with a dozen small pecks of his own, peppering them down. Down Viktor’s chin, his throat, his shoulders.
When he gets to the top of his flushed torso, Jayce looks back at him, a sheepish smile on his lips, and stops in his tracks after planting one last kiss there.
“No,” Viktor blurts out, all thoughts turned clouds except one. Jayce is studying him behind thick lashes, eyes questioning, shoulders taut with a hint of concern when all Viktor needs is for him to, “Don’t stop.”
So Jayce listens, once again, like he always does. Still with an extra edge of carefulness, remaining mindful of Viktor’s new boundaries as he pushes past them, trailing his lips down a mole-dotted chest. Only fleeting touches first, mostly to test the waters, while his hand acts as a pleasant distraction between Viktor’s legs.
“Feels good?” Jayce asks quietly.
“Hm,” Viktor pants, fingers tugging at the strands of Jayce’s nape, urging him in.
The scrape of growing stubble sends sparks across his skin, tender from weeks of being touched out of pure selflessness, for function. Hardly ever for pleasure.
Viktor only ever assumed that his postpartum body and mind would not tolerate any other sorts of touches there, that his chest would unfortunately become off-limits for Jayce’s reverent attention as long as he’d be exclusively breastfeeding.
And it has been sort of the case, really. Last–and only–time they’d tried to have them intimately involved somehow, it came across so confounding that Viktor preferred to call the whole thing off for the day.
So when Jayce starts kissing the tender skin properly, spoiling his breasts with open-mouth kisses, the soft, startled mewl leaving his own lips manages to catch him off-guard. He’d almost forgotten how much it used to stir him on.
Those tiny devouring flames in Viktor’s belly thrive as Jayce resumes his fondling down the silk-smooth path between his breasts. Jayce’s contented smile grows bolder too–Viktor feels it like hot iron on his skin.
Until a small, squeaky sound breaks the silence.
Viktor half-springs on the bed, rendered shivery with adrenaline. “I have to–” He croaks out, “She needs me.”
Eyes wide open, searching for his daughter, he finds nothing but an empty crib. If not for Jayce’s instant reactivity, grabbing for something from the nightstand to show him, Viktor’s dizzy thoughts would’ve spiraled into one dreadful scenario after another.
“It’s alright, Viktor. She’s just dreaming.” They can hear their daughter coo again in her sleep, the sound clear and unbothered through the baby monitor. “See? Too out of it to care.”
It takes Viktor a few more seconds to remember Jayce had taken her to her room earlier, as he watches one of her tiny hands wave in the air like she’s trying to catch something.
Otherwise, she’s calm. No cries, no calls for him.
Viktor sighs, hands flying to his face in frustration. “I’m, eh, losing it, am I not?”
“No, you’re doing more than great.“ Jayce keeps his eye on the screen for a moment longer, just in case, before gathering Viktor in his arms and kissing the top of his forehead.
“You okay?” Jayce asks in a whisper once Viktor finally moves against him. A resolute nod answers him after a while. “Should we pick up where we left off?”
“Please.” Viktor’s voice is small, thinned out by nerves and leftover adrenaline, and his mouth morphs almost instantly into a pout, as if trying to convince Jayce to resume his past touches.
But Jayce’s lips would have been back on Viktor without it all the same.
A warm sweep of tongue along the underside of one breast, a gentle graze of teeth on the other. Jayce lingers, laps nipple and skin altogether, taking his time while Viktor writhes and whines underneath him.
The existence of his lungs has become a mere concept to Viktor now; shy hiccups spill out every two or three laboured breaths–more like gasps, really. It’s distracting Jayce in his task to no end, how adorable he’s being.
“V, breathe.” Jayce chuckles, cheek resting on the patch of skin between Viktor’s ribs and his armpit, in an attempt to spare him more time to regain control of his lungs.
“M’Trying.”
Yet, one cannot exactly say Jayce is doing much better. He’s gotten himself comfortable between Viktor's legs; hips rocking lazily against the mattress to release some of the pressure on his cock.
Which mainly gives those rock-hard abs a better angle to work Viktor’s cock. And how far gone he is, that Viktor isn’t fully able to tell until Jayce’s lips close for the first time in months around a nipple, and without a warning, pulls.
He’s dragged through a long, numbing high, everything around him coming to a blur. Starting with his ears, shutting down the moment his broken, almost silent, cry had breached the air.
It’s when something warm and faint trickles down his chest that Viktor comes back to himself.
“Did you just–” Jayce’s voice cracks, caught between genuine shock and enamoured awe.
Right now, Viktor can’t tell if Jayce is asking about him coming from nipple play only, or about those said nipples leaking from it. Either way, embarrassment flares across his face in no time.
It evolves into something else entirely though–something more heated, less vulnerable. Because the gnawing want returns with the swipe of a thumb to Viktor’s skin, dutifully collecting the wetness on its pulp.
It growls when the hand travels up to Jayce’s face, to his ready mouth. Fat, hungry pupils remain fixed on Viktor the whole time.
Then Jayce laps his thumb clean. Moans around it.
Viktor’s mind short-circuits.
Another hiccup might have escaped him again, he could not be sure of it since his attention is entirely on Jayce, who’s only treating the faint trickles painting his torso with the same hunger.
His trembling hands eventually find their way back to Jayce’s nape, nails digging into his scalp and eliciting a pleased groan from him.
“God,” Jayce marvels under his breath. “You’re so hot.”
Even more prudent than before, Jayce moves down to Viktor’s healing belly, covering it with the same reverent kisses he gave during pregnancy. But Viktor loses patience. If Jayce doesn’t touch him where he needs it most soon, he very well might burst from months-old frustration.
Thus, with a clever twist of his fist into Jayce’s hair, Viktor prompts him to go lower.
Jayce’s eyes roam up his body, enjoying the trembling mess that is his partner. All too knowing for Viktor’s sake. “Ah. So my mouth down there is interesting again, it seems.”
“Hm,“ Viktor breathes hard, still trying to catch his breath, “shut up.”
As he pulls those offensive pants down never-ending legs, with an impatient Viktor wriggling along to help, Jayce can’t help but think back to the very first times they found themselves in this predicament.
They were younger, of course. Less exhausted, most certainly. But the idea of merging their bodies and souls is equally galvanizing. If not more so, now that they get to relearn it all again.
“Maybe… try to use your fingers too,” Viktor manages after Jayce paws at the sheets for the discarded bottle of lube.
A low, acknowledging hum vibrates against Viktor’s belly then, bracing him for what’s to come. He already pictures the faint burn of Jayce’s stubble between his thighs, the way Jayce always buries his perfect nose in his unruly curls to get his fill of the scent, and then sink lower for Viktor to ride it as he pleases.
But also the long-forgotten pressure of two thick fingers breaching past the heat, and most importantly–
Before Jayce can carry out Viktor's fantasies, their bubble of hopes and steam shatters, revealing a particularly piercing cry to their ears.
No doubt, from the intensity of the sound itself, for good this time.
Jayce lets his head fall back onto Viktor with a groan that’s half defeat, half fondness. It makes Viktor’s stomach quiver under him, the result of a loud, genuine snort.
“I cannot recall what you said earlier.” Viktor notes, index finger tapping against his lips as he feigns mulling over the last ten minutes or so. “‘Too out of it,’ was it?”
“Ha ha.” Jayce rolls his eyes and drapes the crumpled sheet back onto Viktor. “Go on, blame a desperate man for trying.”
As Jayce moves to stand, his boxers still clinging for dear life on his narrow hips, Viktor bites the inside of his cheeks hard enough to make his giggle go away.
It’s certainly quite the alluring picture to mourn their sorry sex life over.
He’s not mad, they have plenty of time.
And when his partner comes back with their baby, soothing her by humming her favorite lullaby, one that Viktor’s own mother once used to calm his sorrows, Viktor doesn’t let go of Jayce and asks him to hold them both in his arms.