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It started small, as most things do.

The first time you saw Viktor in person, it was at the opening ceremony for the upcoming semester. Piltover’s most esteemed academy didn’t welcome in new students every day, so whenever there happened to be an income of attendees, a celebratory banquet was thrown. It was an arrant thing; to you it always felt a bit egregious, a bit decorative, with everyone gathering in one of the usually empty ballrooms and mingling about aimlessly, sipping champagne and eating hors d'oeuvres until the dean cleared his throat into the mic, signaling that the ceremony was to begin in earnest. Normally you wouldn’t even attend– big crowds and awkward small talk weren’t exactly your favorite things– but you didn’t have anything else to do, and you were sort of bored that evening, and you’d heard that the food was supposed to be pretty good, so you figured you’d stop by for half an hour or so and eat a few fancy appetizers before you retired to your room. 

You were munching on some sort of miniature quiche (the ingredients of which you couldn’t even begin to guess at) when the familiar voice of Councilor Heimerdinger sounded from the stage. He waited patiently for the chatter to quiet down, and then gave the room a broad smile before beginning his opening speech. 

“Good evening, students! Thank you very much for attending our welcoming day ceremony for the new academic semester. As I’m sure you’re all aware, our beloved institute has been a beacon of scientific progress and achievement for almost as long as Piltover has been standing, and with a little luck it will continue to be so indefinitely. Perhaps it will even outlive me– though I must admit I do doubt that.”

Polite titters wafted up from the crowd. Heimerdinger chuckled a bit at his joke, and then continued. 

“With that admittedly grand hope in mind, I’m very pleased to usher in yet another influx of bright young pupils to these most acclaimed and hallowed halls…”

Heimerdinger was a sweet man– you’d heard nothing but good things about him from your peers and his contributions to the city you all called home were nothing short of incredible, but gods, did his speeches run on. You settled yourself down in a chair by the far wall of the ballroom and focused on consuming as many miniature quiches as possible. Your thoughts wandered as you chewed, and you quickly found yourself admiring a luscious bouquet that decorated a pillar near the stage. The petals were a deep, delicate purple color, effervescent against the whiteness of the marble walls. You passively wondered what type of flowers they were– maybe some sort of carnation?– and where you could find them, and if you would be allowed to plant them in the box on your dorm room’s windowsill.

“.... But enough pontificating. I’m sure you’re all eager for me to get to the point, hm? Well, I won’t dawdle any longer. Let’s welcome our newest additions to the stage and get on with the ceremony. Ah, Viktor, would you mind..?”

You blinked and forced your gaze away from the flowers, looking up just in time to watch a tall brunet make his way over to Heimerdinger’s podium and hand him a long scroll, tied with a deep white and gold ribbon– the academy’s colors. Turning to retreat to the back of the stage, he gave the crowd a glance, his expression one of vague discomfort as he took in the numerous faces staring back at him. His eyes swept your way and then– 

Oh…… He’s beautiful.

It was an almost subconscious notion, flitting in and out of your mind in a blink, but the moment you thought it, you knew it was true. The light of the ballroom’s ornate chandelier cast a honey-colored hue over his frame, tinging the ends of his chestnut hair. Your gaze met his for a fraction of a second before he looked away– and suddenly you desperately wished you weren’t currently holding a handful of miniature quiches. 

You’d known about Viktor long before ever meeting him– something you were certain you would never do, as the two of you were from such drastically different realms, such completely separate worlds. He was the Dean’s assistant, respected and admired by all, and you… you were just a nervous astronomy student. You weren’t particularly exceptional in any real way, you hadn’t contributed anything extraordinary or dedicated yourself to some sort of noble cause; by all accounts you just really liked stars. Most days you could barely even comprehend why you’d been accepted into the academy in the first place, but your mother had taught you all your life to be grateful for what few opportunities you received, so you weren’t going to complain. No, you and Viktor were never going to meet. He was too far away from you for that. 

But in that small moment, when his eyes met yours, you were filled with a quiet, desperate longing to be close. Close enough to see the flecks of dark auburn in his eyes, to count his delicate eyelashes. Close enough to be touched by him. 

What a disgustingly saccharine thought. 

You grabbed a napkin-full of miscellaneous hors d'oeuvres on your way out and spent the rest of the evening in the observatory, editing star charts and trying not to think about how much the color of Viktor’s irises resembled precious metal. 

Three whole months passed before you saw Viktor again. Though there had been assemblies and banquets– the academy seemed to really enjoy throwing lavish parties– which would have allowed the two of you to be in each other’s presence, you couldn’t risk making eye contact with him while holding miniature quiches again, so you opted to skip the gatherings. Most of your time was spent in the observatory, working on your research into constellation patterns, or in your room, admiring the mauve carnations you’d planted in your window box (turns out, you’d been right about the flowers in that bouquet). Every so often you would hear his name in passing in the halls, usually someone discussing his newest accolades, and your stomach would flip so viciously you’d need a moment to catch your breath.

You felt silly. You’d locked eyes once. Honestly, it was like you were a little kid with a crush on their school teacher. 

This is ridiculous, you thought. I’ve never even had a conversation with the guy. I’ve never even been in the same room as him for more than fifteen minutes! Besides, in a school this gigantic, what’re the odds we’d even run into each other again? It’s better if I just forget about it. 

Not even a full day after you’d resolved yourself to this, Viktor tapped you on the shoulder in the library. 

“Pardon– sorry to interrupt, but I was curious about that book you’re reading.”

He nodded to the hefty tome in your lap, his tone polite and casual. You stared at him. After a moment of silence that dragged on for just a bit too long, he tilted his head at you, squinting slightly. 

“Are you alright? You look, ehm, taken aback.”

You swallowed hard, the back of your throat coated in shock and sand. Your brain was having a hard time catching up to what was happening. You looked from Viktor’s vaguely confused expression, down to the textbook resting on your thighs, then back up again, and all at once reality seemed to crash into you, the world speeding up in a single second. Letting out a quiet noise of surprise, you scrambled to respond.

“Um– no, I’m fine,” you stammered. “What– sorry, what was your question?”

He gestured once again to your reading material, shifting the majority of his weight onto his cane so that his hand was free. Your eyes locked onto the movement. “That book. I’ve been interested in it for a while. It’s not a scientific text, is it?”

“Oh, uh, no. It’s not. I mean, not– not technically, I suppose.” You nervously rubbed the corner of the page you were on between your thumb and forefinger. “One could argue that it is, but I’ve been told that’s… a controversial subject.”

“I presume that’s because it discusses the connections between science and magic, yes?”

“Mm-hm. Um, astronomical entity theory, to be exact.”

Viktor quirked an eyebrow, looking mildly impressed. “Astronomical entity theory? I must admit I’m not particularly familiar. Are you a theoretical science student?”

“Astronomy, actually. But my independent study is based on parts of that theory, so, well...” You held the book up in order to show its cover. “Book,” you finished lamely. Viktor didn’t seem to notice your nervousness– or if he did, he paid it no mind. He laughed, soft and airy, and the sound made your heart shudder in your chest. 

“And this, ah, independent study–” he motioned vaguely with one hand as he spoke– “May I inquire as to what you’re researching?”

You hesitated; you didn’t think your measly research project would be of much interest to someone who was one half of the duo that created Hextech, but the golden-eyed man in front of you had a look of such genuine earnestness on his face that you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. 

“Ah, well–” You tilted the textbook slightly so that the pages were visible and pointed to the chart you’d been looking at before Viktor showed up. “It’s nothing too exciting, but I’m studying star configurations, and there’s a theory that mages used constellations in order to… harness their power, to put it simply? It’s pretty well-known that magic is a natural force, but a lot of people just assume that it only exists in the terrestrial realm. Astronomical entity theory is the idea that not only can magic also be pulled from space, but that it actually might originate from it, with the stars and planets acting as these sort of generators, and that maybe ancient magic-users found a way to take that magical energy and imbue it into the world around them, and…” Your cheeks flushed as you realized you’d been talking for much longer than you’d anticipated. “Well, the theory gets a little odd after that, talking about ancient celestial monsters and whatnot. All sorts of crazy things. I’m mainly focusing on the mathematical side of it. Gods, I didn’t mean to start rambling, I’m– I’m sorry–”

Before you’d even gotten through your apology, Viktor was waving a graceful hand at you, as though to dismiss the very notion. “Do not be sorry. I asked, did I not?”

“I…” You blinked, feeling flustered. “I suppose you did...”

“Shame on me were I ever to interrupt someone speaking on something they are passionate about,” he continued, flashing you a small grin that had your insides doing cartwheels. You attempted to return it as confidently as possible, but your face wasn’t quite cooperating with you, so you settled for a slightly awkward, albeit thankful smile. With that, Viktor straightened up– reminding you quite suddenly of how much he absolutely towered over you– and glanced at the clock on the wall, his eyes widening as he read the time it displayed.

“It’s that late already? Дерьмо, I was supposed to be back at the labs by now...” He murmured something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch and tutted to himself before giving you another polite nod. “Thank you for letting me interrupt you, and for telling me about that book. I’ll, ah, leave you to your studies.”

You managed a weak “have a nice day” in response, your brain effectively reduced to mush, but as Viktor turned to walk away, he paused and looked back over his shoulder, meeting your gaze one more time. 

“Apologies for my abruptness, but… could I get your name?”

You had never struggled with telling people your name before, but for some reason, giving it to Viktor was one of the most nerve-wracking things you’d ever done, and you had to push your way through a false start before you managed to spit it out fully. He echoed it back to you, as though testing the sound out on his tongue.

“I see.” He smiled at you. His eyes glowed in the dim light. “I’m Viktor. I hope to see you again.”

And then he was gone. 

For a good hour after that, you could barely think straight– hell, you could barely think at all. You opened and closed your book, turned the page just to turn it back again, and stared unseeingly at the same four star charts until your eyesight went fuzzy. Every time you blinked, you saw Viktor’s subtly lopsided grin branded on the back of your eyelids, and like a record on an unending loop, those six simple words turned over and over again in your mind. 

I hope to see you again. I hope to see you again. I hope to see you again.

You didn’t get much work done that night. You sat in the library until the sun had fully set and the halls had grown silent, thinking about how Viktor had a beauty mark right above his lip, and wondering how it would feel to press your mouth against it. 

You wanted to see him again so, so badly. 

Fortunately, it seemed fate– or chance, or perhaps just pure dumb luck– was decidedly on your side when it came to accidental meetings with the man of your affections, because you bumped into him again not even a week later. This time, it was early in the morning. You were making your way to your first lecture and just as you were passing by the door to Councilor Heimerdinger’s office, Viktor stepped out, carrying an armful of heavy-looking notebooks and appearing a bit frazzled. 

“Excuse me– oh.” He blinked, his face lighting up in recognition. “Oh, it’s you! From the, eh, from the library. Good morning.”

You quickly shook off the initial surprise of almost running right into him and focused on not letting your voice shake, giving him what you hoped was a semi-casual smile. “Good morning to you too. It’s nice to see you again. Um…” You glanced down at his stack of notebooks. “Would you like help with that? It just seems like a lot to carry.”

“Ah, yes, it is a bit much, but– are you not heading somewhere? I wouldn’t want to make you go out of your way.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” you said quickly. “Honest! My class doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. I’d be happy to help."

Viktor studied you for a few seconds, seemingly mulling something over in his head, before that familiar half-moon smile spread once more across his face. “Well, then, I appreciate it. I’m just heading back to my lab, it’s not too far.”

You took a few of the notebooks from him and together you walked side by side through the halls, the quiet of the early morning interrupted only by the sound of your shoes against the tile and the polite conversation you made as you went. He asked you how your research into astronomical entity theory was going, and you gave him a general run-down of the progress you’d made since your initial meeting (neglecting to mention the long stretches of time you wasted daydreaming about kissing his beauty mark, of course). He listened with keen interest, his small grin growing as you spoke. He was so close to you. You noticed he had a second beauty mark, right underneath his eye.

The two of you reached the lab far more quickly than felt fair. You insisted on helping him put his things down despite his gentle protests. Though you attempted to convince yourself that it was mere politeness that moved you to do so, deep down you knew the achingly humiliating truth: you just wanted to prolong your time with him. Even if only by a moment. 

When finally you knew you could stall no longer and you resolved yourself to take your leave, Viktor called your name just as you were about to walk back out into the hall.

“I was just thinking,” he said, once you’d turned back to look at him. “We should really sit down and discuss your research at a greater length. I have some, ah… notes, you could say, that I would love to hear your thoughts on. If you’d be open to something like that, of course.”

You practically tripped over yourself in your haste to say yes, yes, absolutely, you’d love that, to ask what days worked for him, what time he was usually free, to confirm that you were also free at those times, so maybe this weekend? Sometime after lunch? Or during lunch, maybe? Yes, lunch would work just fine. Lunch would be perfect. 

Viktor nodded, his smile warm like melted butter and gentle as a breeze. “Then I suppose I’ll see you for lunch. Oh– and bring that book you were reading the other day, yeah?”

That was how it started. 

Small, almost inconsequential; interactions dictated by soft touches, softer words, and half-moon smiles like silver bullets to your chest, and though you bled, you bled deliciously, the sensation ambrosial. It was embarrassing to admit, even only to yourself, but after that evening in the library, you knew without a doubt–

You would bleed for the rest of your life if it meant Viktor would tend to your wounds. 

Meeting for lunch to discuss your research appeared to be gasoline on what was quickly becoming a wildfire. Viktor invited you to have lunch again the next day, and then again the next week, and then again the week after that. You quickly ran out of new things to tell him about the project– as intense as your passion was, the process was unfortunately slow-going– and you worried that Viktor would grow bored of you without the academic icebreaker that was your independent study, but it seemed your anxieties were ill-founded, because he simply waved your apology aside and asked if you’d like to watch him and his partner work on the blueprints for a new Hextech-based technology. You happily (almost a bit too happily) accepted. It was at this point that you felt comfortable enough to call Viktor a friend, albeit a casual one. 

Your relationship with the golden-eyed scientist was slow-going, gradual, and it took you several lunches, study sessions, and noncommittal meetings before Viktor invited you to spend time with him outside of a vaguely academic setting. It was even longer before you felt comfortable enough to drop by the lab unprompted. You knew that he was a dedicated man, you knew his work always took priority, so you felt an exponential need to make sure your presence was never a bother, never any sort of inconvenience. Perhaps it was childish, but a part of you desperately wanted to be of use to him. 

(You could think of quite a few…. other ways you’d like to be of use to him, but that was neither here nor there.)

So, you took to bringing him things. At first you framed it lackadaisical– the woman at the cafeteria gave you too many scones, or the little cafe down the road had messed up your order and you’d ended up with an extra coffee. You neglected to mention that the pastry bar in the cafeteria was a buffet where students served themselves and that you didn’t even really like coffee, but Viktor never questioned your intentions, only accepted the gifts with polite thanks and his signature half-moon smile. Slowly but surely you worked up the courage to bring him things “on purpose”. You found out he was rather fond of sweet milk, and thus you spent multiple afternoons teaching yourself how to make the perfect cup. When it was late and you knew he would still be up in his lab ignoring everything but his work, you’d bring him something simple and warm to make sure he ate. And on restless nights when the hours ran long and lonely and he refused to leave his desk, you sat in a chair in the corner, reading quietly, the only noise being the scratch of pen against paper until finally Viktor drifted off, hunched over notes and textbooks and sleep-deprived scribblings. You’d get up and gently shake his shoulder until eventually he roused enough to move to the couch. And then you would leave. 

You and Viktor were friends, certainly– but you didn’t think you could hide the way you truly felt if you were alone with him all night. 

Still, it was clear that Viktor was becoming more comfortable around you. You spent almost every free evening in the lab, listening to him talk about concepts you could barely wrap your head around in that enthralling, anesthetic voice of his, watching his hands move as he rambled. Staring at his calloused palms, his elegant fingers. Wishing those fingers were entangled with your own, or buried in your hair, or digging into your thighs, hard enough to leave plum-colored bruises, hard enough to break the skin… 

You were shaken out of your fantasies by Viktor saying your name. He’d been standing at the blackboard, hemming and hawing over an equation he was attempting to crack, and you flushed as you realized he’d been trying to get your attention for a good thirty seconds.

“Ah– oh, um, sorry, what’d you say?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at you, turning away from his work to peer towards where you were sitting. He shifted to rest one hand against his folded upper arm, and you felt yourself track the motion almost subconsciously.

“You’re awfully distracted this afternoon. I’m not boring you, am I?” 

“What? No, no, not at all!” You shook your head quickly, attempting to look more alert. “I’m just a bit, um… it’s nothing, honest. I’m not sure what’s up with me today.. I’m probably just tired.”

The raised eyebrow raised even more. You tried your best to smile at him convincingly, though your insides squirmed and your face still felt uncomfortably hot. Finally, Viktor’s expression softened.

“Not that I, eh, don’t believe you, but… you know you can tell me if I am boring you, no?” he joked. “I promise I won’t be too offended.”

You laughed. Your voice shook, partly from relief and partly from nerves. “Thanks. But I swear, Viktor, I’m not bored. Cross my heart! You were, um, in the middle of explaining this problem you’re working on, right?”

Viktor’s eyes lit up and he rapidly returned to pouring over the numbers on the blackboard, the subject effectively avoided, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief. In your lap, you gripped the fabric of your shirt in an attempt to stop your hands from shaking.

The rest of the evening went without incident, but that night, you dreamt of oil-painting skin. You woke up sweaty and gasping, your fingers curled into your bedsheets, searching for the warmth of a body that wasn’t there, and in the haze of lust and yearning and desperation for release, you reached under the covers to finish what your fading subconscious had started. 

You couldn’t quite look Viktor in the face for a few days after that. Every time he made eye contact with you, your legs would shake. Every time his hands entered your line of sight, or drifted close, or pressed briefly against your shoulders as he moved past you, a blossom of heat would erupt in your stomach. 

Ignore it, you thought, again and again, day after day. You’ll scare him off. It took you so long to get here, don’t ruin it just because you’re horny and desperate and he’s incredible. Just ignore it. It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll go away. 

It did not go away. It got exponentially worse.

Every moment you spent around him was wonderful agony. Though Viktor was gorgeous from afar, he was positively hallowed up-close– being so near to him felt borderline sacrilegious, and what most certainly didn’t help was the fact that he actively seemed to enjoy being near you. It wasn’t obvious; Viktor was, amongst other things, a very subtle man, and thus how he chose to express affection was just as indirect, though not hidden. He made it clear that every smile, every touch, every breach of personal space was deliberate, through the way he met your eyes with purpose, his irises so bright, and so golden. It stole your breath from you every time. 

You could deal with this. You’d had crushes before; perhaps this one was stronger than the others but that was nothing you couldn’t handle, and it certainly wasn’t worth risking your relationship with him. You shoved your feelings to the pit of your stomach and hoped they would rot away. When you were with him, you forced yourself not to stare at his hands. And when you were alone, in the darkness of your room, you made yourself come to the thought of him choking you out on the desk. It was a shameful routine, but you got used to it.

And then, one night, everything shifted. 

You weren’t sure what made that particular night different. By all accounts, it was exactly like the countless others you’d spent reading in the corner of the lab as Viktor poured tirelessly over his notes, erasing and writing and then erasing again. The room was silent as usual, nothing but the gentle thrumming of rain against the academy’s roof breaking its quiet atmosphere. You slowly worked your way through the textbook you were reading, attempting to focus but, as you so often did, finding it difficult to stop your mind– and your eyes– from wandering. Every few minutes you stole a glance at the golden-eyed man sitting mere yards away from you, your gaze continuously drifting down to the pen in his hand, his long, elegant fingers waltzing gracefully across parchment. When finally you noticed you were beginning to stare and went to return to your reading, you looked up and realized with a start that Viktor was looking back. 

“You haven’t turned a page in over five minutes,” he said, cocking his head to the side and giving you a bemused smile. “Is everything alright?”

Shit, he noticed me staring at him! You felt your face grow warm, and you hurried to reply. “Oh, yes, everything’s fine! Sorry, I was just.. thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

“Um–” You. Your hands. Your hands on my body, or between my legs, or around my throat. “Just, um, my independent study. I haven’t been making much progress lately and it’s a tad frustrating, I suppose.”

Viktor hummed, his eyes sympathetic. “Ah. I understand. I’ve run into an intellectual roadblock myself, so to speak.” He gestured to the notes he’d been editing and shook his head, his brow scrunching with disgruntlement. “These damned blueprints should be perfectly accurate, and yet all of our beta tests have ended in failure. I’m missing something obvious, I just know it…”

He fell silent again, glaring down at the paper. You felt a pang of worry as you looked at him, taking in the tightness of his jaw, the faded exhaustion under his eyes. 

“Maybe… a break would help?” You faltered a bit when he glanced back up at you sharply, but continued on. “Just a short one, to give your mind a rest. I was thinking of making tea. I could make you a cup, too.”

There was a pause as Viktor hesitated, pondering the offer. He looked from his work to your hopeful expression and back again, and for a moment you were almost certain he was going to refuse, but then he met your eyes once more, slowly setting his pen down on the table.

“Would you, eh, be willing to switch that tea with sweet milk?” His expression turned slightly sheepish, almost shy. “I am… rather fond of how you make it.”

Your insides grew warm and fluttery at the compliment, and you beamed at him, unable to hide your elation as you placed your book aside and stood. “Of course. I’d be happy to, Viktor.”

Ten minutes later, you reentered the lab carrying two steaming mugs, rose tea with honey in one and warm sweet milk in the other. Viktor took the drink from you with reverence, his face lighting up like a sunrise. 

“Спасибо, солнце,” he said softly, giving you a grateful smile before eagerly bringing the cup to his mouth and taking a long sip, his shoulders dipping as he did. You smiled back and sat down in the empty chair across from him. 

“What’s that word?” you asked after he’d set the drink down on the desk and shifted his attention back to you. He furrowed his brow slightly, supposedly unsure as to what you were referring to, so you clarified. “That word. Um, ‘солнце’, I think it was? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use it before.”

Viktor blinked at you, processing your question, and then suddenly his eyes grew wide. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but it almost looked as if he was… blushing.

“Oh. Oh, er, that’s–” The brunet cleared his throat, his demeanor uncharacteristically nervous. “Ah, it’s just a word from my native tongue. Nothing too, eh, interesting.”

“Oh! That’s neat. What does it mean?”

It wasn’t a trick of the light. Viktor was definitely blushing. He reached up to scratch at the side of his face, his eyes jumping to and from your own. “Well, translated literally, it means ‘sun’.”

“‘Sun’?” You tilted your head. “Like, sun as in sunlight?” 

“Yes. It’s, ehm…” He steeled himself, as though bracing for your reaction. “It’s a term of… Of endearment. Like– like a pet name, I suppose.”

Silence. You stared at him. Viktor, interpreting your lack of response to be negative, grimaced, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’m– I’m sorry, I should have known that would be…” He cursed. “Пошло все к черту… I apologize, it’s clear that I’ve overstepped. I truly did not mean to make you uncomfortable, I promise I won’t call you that again–”

“No!”

Your voice came out much louder, much more frantic, than you’d intended, and you winced, quickly lowering your volume. “I– I mean, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. Really, you didn’t! I was just surprised, I… I didn’t think you were the… the type to use, um…” Your cheeks flushed hot. “.... Pet names.”

“Yes, well…” Viktor twisted his fingers together in his lap. “I did not think I was, either, but…” 

He stopped, hesitating, the look on his face unsure, almost nervous– as if he’d been testing the waters and wasn’t certain how much more weight he could apply before something cracked. Your heart hammered, its erratic beat pounding in your eardrums, every atom in your body vibrating, and you waited, breathless, for him to continue. Finally, he met your eyes.

“I did not think I was, either,” he repeated. “Until I met you.”

The ground seemed to fade from under you. You couldn’t look away from him, your gazes interlocked. You felt as though your blood was burning. Your mouth opened and the words spilled out like rain, like a flooding river, like a waterfall.

“I love you.”

Viktor’s jaw dropped in surprise. “What–”

“I love you,” you repeated, almost fervent in the way you looked at him, the way you pressed yourself closer in order to emphasize what you were attempting to express. “I have for ages, you– you’re the most brilliant, most wonderful person I’ve ever known. Ever since that night in the library– no, ever since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.” You paused to take a breath, your speech so urgent that it bordered on mania. “Every day I wake up and I think of when I can see you, what I can do to be of use to you. The fact that you allow me to be around you in the first place is– is a blessing–”

“Oh, oh, любимый–” Viktor reached out and grabbed your hands, cutting you off, his eyes wide and deep as an ocean trench, bright as a golden flame. “I– I don’t ’allow you’ to be around me, I treasure your company, your input, your– your very presence, I… Is– is this..? Are you….” His voice wavered with emotion. “Are you confessing to me?”

You looked down at your entwined hands, then back up at him, your expression terrified, vulnerable, and so, so, so hopeful. “If I was, what would you say?”

Viktor paused, and then, in a single movement, he leaned forward and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you’d been kissed, so long that you could barely remember the sensation, the tangibility of it. What did lips feel like when they were pressed against your own? What did hands feel like when they were curled against your shirt? Sometimes, late at night, you would trace those lips of yours with shaking fingers, attempting to recall faded memories of clumsy mouths and heated gasps and imagining, fantasizing, that the person from those memories was actually a familiar face, and that he was there with you, pushing you down into your mattress, gazing at you with those molten metal eyes. 

None of your fantasies held a candle to how this felt. 

There was no heat behind it, no lust or desperation, only a deep, quiet, aching need; a gentle yearning. Viktor merely kept his lips on yours, not moving, simply allowing your mouths to meld into one another, until finally you couldn’t wait any longer and you let go of his hands in order to grab onto his upper arms, or his shoulders, or the lapels of his vest, or anything, anything at all that would allow you to touch more of him. You felt him sigh against you, felt his warmth against your face, and you melted; he tilted his head, bringing you ever closer, your chins bumping slightly. You closed your eyes so that everything around you drifted away and the only thing that existed was him. Your hands left his lapels to travel upwards until they met his cheeks. Delicately, as though afraid he would hurt you, you felt his fingers curl into your hair.

When finally, finally, finally you parted, neither of you spoke for a long moment, your eyes slowly fluttering open in tandem as you both attempted to catch your breath.

“Was that answer enough?” Viktor asked, practically murmuring the question into your skin. “Or would you prefer I say it out loud, as well?”

You barked out a shaky laugh, short and sudden, the sound bordering on abrasive in the quiet of the lab. In lieu of responding, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed yourself as near to him as you could manage, the tip of your nose in the crook of his, breath ghosting over shaky breath. You wished for time itself to grind to a halt, if only to prolong this sacred moment.

“Солнце,” Viktor sighed. “Солнце.”

He said his chosen nickname for you once, twice, like a prayer, like the ravings of a mad man, like a desperate plea. You could feel the wisps of his eyelashes against your temple. 

“Viktor,” you exhaled in reply; reverent, worshiping. “Viktor, you are– you– you’re–”

“What? Солнце, what is it?”

“Everything.” It came out as a gasp. “You’re everything. Everything in the entire world, you’re– oh, gods, if I could– I can’t believe I get to– to look at you, to hear you speak, to– to touch you–”

“You can do whatever you want,” he said. His hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek. When he swept his thumb over your cheekbone, you had to choke back a sob. “Anything you want. Oh, солнце, you are brilliant, you are– you are so warm– so good–”

A muted sound escaped you, high and wanton. Embarrassment burned in your chest, but you paid it no mind– instead you wrapped your arms around him, as though if you just held him tight enough, you could disappear within him entirely. He smelled like ink and lavender. His skin was so soft beneath your fingertips. Before you knew it, the words you swore you would never voice out loud spilled from your lips like holy nectar, forbidden and intoxicating.

“I would let you do such horrible things to me.”

Viktor stilled. His fingers, still placed gently on your cheek, twitched, the movement so slight you could almost convince yourself you’d imagined it.

“.. What?”

You flinched, cold, icy regret washing over you, and you brought your eyes up quickly to scan his unreadable expression. “I– I mean– oh, gods, I’m sorry, that was weird, that was– that was a weird thing to say, just– oh, fuck, just forget I even said that, I–”

Suddenly, Viktor tightened his hold on the side of your face, his thumb moving down to brace against your chin, gently but firmly forcing you to meet his gaze head-on. You were centimeters apart, so close you could see the flecks of dark auburn in his irises.

“Солнце,” he said softly, the emotion in his voice all-consuming. “Don’t apologize. Please.”

You swallowed. Your skin was prickling with something unidentifiable. “… Okay. I.. I won’t.”

“Good,” Viktor murmured, letting go of your face and moving his hand down to your arm. You suppressed a shiver. “Now…” His tone dipped, low and hot and burning, and his lip turned upwards. “What sort of horrible things?”

The world seemed to skip like a scratched record. You heard his question– certainly, you did, how could you not?– but you couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t catch up to what he was asking. You stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed, trying to force your frantic thoughts into some semblance of clarity. “I– I– what?”

“What sort of horrible things?” he repeated, his voice just as low, just as burning, but still brimming with gentle affection. He gazed at you patiently through half-lidded eyes. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“Y–You….” The words came out strangled. “You… you do?”

“Yes,” Viktor said. He leaned forward so that your noses bumped slightly. “After all, how am I to know what to do to you if you do not tell me what you want, солнышко?”

You felt your breath leave you. You couldn’t quite find your voice, as if it had died in the back of your throat, crumbled to dust just behind your teeth. You stayed quiet, your mind swirling with unspoken words, unsaid desires. After almost a minute of silence, you opened your mouth.

​​“I want–”

You paused. Swallowed, took a breath. Your heart was beating so hard you feared it may just stop altogether. You didn’t know how Viktor was so collected, so straightforward, when he was asking you to say such embarrassing things. His calm expression made you want to squirm.

You tried again.

“I want you to… pull my hair.”

Viktor’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes seemed to flash. Slowly, he lifted his hand from where it was resting on your forearm, the action deliberate and intense. Fingers traced across your cheekbone, over the shell of your ear, and finally back to the nape of your neck to tangle once more in your hair. 

“And how, precisely, do you want me to pull your hair?”

The word came out as a whimper.

“Hard.”

The golden-eyed man paused for a moment, for a single second, before suddenly his grip tightened and he tugged. The force yanked your head back in a way that bared your throat and you almost cried out, your entire body instantly being filled with an innate feeling of vulnerability. 

“What else?” He spoke against the hollow of your throat, his mouth angled there so that his lips just barely grazed the sensitive skin. “What other horrible things do you want me to do to you?”

The noise you made then was a shambled mix of a whine and a sob, and part of you wished desperately that you could bury your face in Viktor’s shoulder so he wouldn’t be able to see the desperate flush branding your cheeks, but at the same time, all you wanted in the entire world was for him to never, ever take his fingers away from your hair. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I– I want you to– to–” 

“Yes?” Breathy, teasing. He was enjoying this. You felt as though you were going to dissolve in his hands. When the warmth of his tongue hit the underside of your jaw, you couldn’t hold it in any longer– you gasped out the thought that’d been boiling in your mind. 

“I want you to fuck my mouth with your fingers!”

A pause, and then Viktor slid his hand down to your shoulder, pulling away from you just slightly. Instantly, panic swarmed you; he’d had been playing along thus far, but maybe that was too much? You jumped to apologize, to backtrack, to brush it off as a joke– and then you felt the cool touch of fingertips against your collarbone. 

“You know…” Viktor’s eyes were hooded as he traced shapes into your clavicle, the motions soft and gentle enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. “I have been wondering about that.”

“About– about w–what?” You were having a hard time focusing on anything other than his touch on your skin, but Viktor’s voice had grown light in the way that it often did when he was curious, and so you forced yourself to meet his gaze earnestly– a task that proved to be difficult once his fingers traveled higher.

“About your, eh.. how should I phrase it? Fascination with my… hands.”

Your eyes widened. “You– you–“ You tripped over your words, voice cracking with embarrassment. “How long have you– how long have you known that I…?”

He flashed you that small, half-moon smile of his. “Well… you’re not very subtle, солнце.” 

You groaned and leaned over to rest your forehead against his chest, hiding your expression. “This is humiliating.”

Viktor laughed. It was bright and warm, the kind of laugh angels would be envious of, and even in your flustered state, you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it, couldn’t help but laugh along a little in spite of yourself. 

“To be fair to you, I am very observant,” Viktor said good-naturedly, running a soothing hand down your back. “Even if you were any good at hiding it, I most likely would have found out eventually. Though admittedly it did help that you are not any good at hiding it.”

“Oh, thanks, that makes me feel better,” you grumbled into the fabric of his vest, though you had to fight back a grin. Your mock-gratitude earned you another chuckle. 

“My apologies,” he replied, not sounding very apologetic in the slightest. “Now come on, солнышко, don’t pout. Show me your face. There’s no need to hide.”

“I would argue that there most certainly is,” you muttered to yourself, but complied regardless, reluctantly raising your head to meet Viktor’s gaze. He smiled at you. 

“There you go. Very good, умняшка.”

Your cheeks flushed hot once more and you averted your eyes. “You’re– you’re teasing me.”

“I’m not. I’m praising you. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” you replied weakly. 

Viktor moved his hand back to your neck, trailing his fingers gently up your throat. “I believe there is. For example, if I wanted to tease you, I could simply make it so that you couldn’t hide your face from me. Perhaps by restricting the use of your hands. Perhaps, even, by restricting your movement entirely.” 

You gasped as he suddenly took hold of your face again, gripping the underside of your chin tightly and forcibly tilting your head forward so that you had no choice but to look at him. For the first time since your kiss, you realized that his expression had changed. 

He was looking at you as though you were one of his experiments, as though you were a fascinating specimen, something unique and mystifying that he longed to understand, longed to dissect and then put back together again. As though he was just barely holding himself back from taking you apart completely. 

“But I won’t do that,” he breathed. “Though I’m sure you’d let me. No. You’ve been good, so I don’t want to tease you. I want to reward you.”

He pulled you closer, so close that if you wanted to, you could kiss the beauty mark on his upper lip, just like you had been daydreaming about all those months ago.

“Would you like that, солнышко? Hm? Would you like me to reward you, and fuck your mouth with my fingers?”

Before you even registered yourself doing so, you were nodding. “Yes,” you gasped, practically begging, though you were too far gone to care. “Yes, yes, I’d like that very much.”

Viktor let go of your chin, so quickly you had to physically stop your head from dropping down and bonking him on the nose, and sat back, raising his hand up to your face.

“Go ahead,” he said simply. 

You swallowed. Shakily, you took his hand in your own, lifted it close, and pressed your mouth to the middle of his palm in a gentle kiss. Viktor took a sharp intake of breath through his nose but stayed still, merely observing you. For a moment you let your lips linger there, before parting them slightly, your tongue darting out to taste the coolness of his skin. You kissed across his palm lines, traveling slowly up to his fingers. When you got to his fingertips, you paused, looking up at him through your eyelashes in a silent request. 

“Can.. can I please, um…” 

Viktor nodded, his gaze filled with something unidentifiable. 

You breathed out, mumbling an embarrassingly desperate ‘thank you’, before tilting your head and slowly taking his fingers in your mouth. Viktor didn’t move his hand, simply allowing you to get comfortable. As soon as his fingers slipped past your lips towards the back of your throat, you let out a quiet, almost involuntary moan, your eyes fluttering closed. After a second of holding them in your mouth, you tentatively started to suck. As you did so, you just barely registered Viktor letting out an almost inaudible groan, before suddenly you felt his other hand grasp a fistful of your hair. Your eyes flew open just as he began to pump his fingers methodically in and out of your mouth, and you suddenly recognized the emotion that had been smoldering in his brilliant golden irises– 

Hunger. 

Your grip on his wrist tightened as he pulled your neck taut, and you choked out a whine. Saliva dripped down your chin, but Viktor didn’t stop, didn’t pause. A haze of arousal was beginning to settle inside your head like morning mist, and in the fog of it all, you didn’t even notice as your hips bucked slightly, beginning to grind against the chair in search of any friction, any sort of release. Faintly, you felt Viktor’s fingers slow in their assault until finally he pulled his hand away, and you looked up at him, gasping, spit smeared across your mouth. 

“Солнце,” he breathed. “Sit on the desk.”

You scrambled up, legs quivering, and hoisted yourself onto the table, carefully pushing aside loose notes and equipment that, even in your extremely horny state, looked far too expensive to risk breaking. Despite your desperation, you cast an uneasy glance towards the door of the lab.

“No one will come in,” Viktor reassured you, noticing where you were looking. He gave your fingers a squeeze. “The academy’s dead at this time of night. We’re alone, I promise.”

Even in the middle of something like this, he was still so thoughtful towards you. You squeezed back and smiled gratefully at him, brushing your free hand through his hair. “Thank you, Viktor.”

He arched into your caress, humming against your touch, before leaning forward and kissing you gently. You melted, allowing him to slowly push you back until you felt your shoulder blades hit the wall behind you. You shivered against the cold plaster, though the warmth of Viktor’s lips on your own quickly chased away the chill. 

“I would like to touch you more, солнышко,” Viktor mumbled against your mouth. “I would like to… make you come. Do I have your permission to do so?”

You gasped, shakily, just barely stopping yourself from moaning. “Y–Yes.”

“And do I have your permission to make you come in whichever way I please?”

This time, you couldn’t muffle the sound that escaped you. “Yes, yes, you do. You can do anything you want, Viktor, just– please,” you said, tugging desperately at his shirt as you pleaded. “Viktor, please.” 

“Good,” he murmured, and then his tone shifted once again, growing deep and commanding. “Put your hands behind your back.”

You obeyed without a second thought, watching breathlessly as his deft fingers made quick work of the buttons on your vest, gently pushing it over your shoulders before trailing his hands to your waistline. He paused, waiting patiently for you to lift your hips, before pulling your pants down to your feet in a single fluid motion. You moved to kick them off completely, but he grabbed your shins, stopping you. When you blinked at him in confusion, he held a single finger up and then reached down to open a drawer, rustling around for something. After a moment of searching, he pulled out a small piece of what looked like jewelry wire, and quickly twisted it around the crotch of your pants, firmly fastening your ankles together. Goosebumps erupted on your legs where the cool air of the lab hit your skin. Viktor stepped back and gave you a glance-over, as though surveying his handiwork. His appraising gaze made you feel far more naked than you were. 

“Perfect,” he said, almost completely to himself. You shivered, shifting slightly against your makeshift bondage, but remained silent, waiting for him to instruct you. Finally, after a long pause, Viktor leaned over you, placing a hand on your knee.

“Here’s what you’re going to do, солнце.” The hand traced up the curve of your leg to your thigh. You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to keep quiet. “You are going to keep your hands behind your back. I am going to touch you exactly how you ask me to. And then, when I say you can, you are going to touch yourself, until finally, you come. Do you understand?”

You nodded fervently. Viktor’s eyes flashed.

“Say it out loud.”

Another shiver rocked your body, this one far more violent than the last, and you rushed to respond audibly. “Y–Yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Good, умняшка. And as a reward for being so obedient, you get to tell me what you’d like me to do to you first.”

You took in a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly dragged your gaze over Viktor’s form, trailing from his burning golden eyes, down the slender slope of his neck, and finally stopping on where his hand still rested atop your thigh. Seeing those graceful fingers so close to where you’d yearned for them to be sent a rush of heat to the pit of your stomach.

“I want you to– to kiss– to kiss my thighs.” 

The request came out in a rush, and you quite nearly winced at the desperation in your voice, but then Viktor’s lips twitched into a smile that quickly stoked the growing fire in your abdomen. He rubbed a gentle circle into your upper thigh, and then leaned forward, pressing his open mouth to the sensitive skin just above it. You gasped and immediately started to squirm, but Viktor grabbed onto your legs and kept your knees apart with a firm, unrelenting grip. 

“Ah, ah, try not to move, солнышко,” he tutted lightly. You could feel the curve of his grin against your flesh. “We wouldn’t want you falling off the desk.”

You whimpered as you felt him kiss a slow path up and down your inner thigh, the heat from his breath just barely misting against your underwear. He moved from your left leg to your right, and as he did, you felt the tip of his bangs brush against your lower stomach. You had to physically stop yourself from writhing at the sensation. 

“You know,” Viktor said after what felt like an eternity, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. “Since I’m down here, it would be a shame to do nothing but kiss. Do I have your permission to… bite?”

“Oh, gods,” you gasped. You shut your eyes tight as though doing so would somehow hide the burning in your cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Gods, yes.”

Viktor chuckled, and that singular sound threatened to unravel you completely, but before you could even consider the act of doing so, he parted his lips even farther and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You were usually good at being quiet. The walls of the academy dorms were thin, and you couldn’t risk your neighbors overhearing any of your nighttime fantasies, so you had long since trained yourself to muffle your noises. But this was different. This was far, far different from anything you had ever experienced. Nothing else in the world could compare to this. You couldn’t help it. You cried out– a strange mixture of a yelp and a moan escaping from your lips as Viktor left faded scarlet bite marks along the inside of your thighs. By the time he had traveled back to the leg he’d started with, you were shaking, your breath coming out in gasps. He lifted his head from between your legs and pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. 

“Are you alright, солнце?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the flames in his eyes having dimmed to a low flicker, soft and concerned. “Was that too much? Do you want to take a break, or stop–?”

You rushed to shake your head. If he stopped now, you were fairly certain you would crumble to pieces right then and there. “No! No, no, please, I’m fine– please, please don’t stop, Viktor. I– I don’t know what I’ll do if you stop, I–”

He kissed you once, twice, quick and reassuring, interrupting your frantic pleas. “I won’t stop, солнце. I won’t. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m… I’m alright,” you said, your breathing still shaky, but beginning to even out. You gave him a smile, though you were sure it was a wobbly one. “I’m alright, honest. I promise.”

Viktor smoothed your hair behind your ear again. “Alright. Then… May I continue?”

Another moan threatened to escape you, but you quickly silenced it, opting instead to bite your lip and nod. “Yes. Please.”

“Good.” Keeping his hand in your hair, Viktor dipped his face down to brush the tip of his nose against your jawline. “I do like that you say ‘please’ so much. It’s very… mm… cute.”

“Y–You– you think so?” you stammered, your eyes fluttering closed once more as you felt him press soft kisses to the side of your neck.

“I do. I also think that I would like to hear you say it some more.”

His kisses traveled downwards, to the start of your collarbone. You arched your spine to give him better access. Behind your back, you clenched fistfuls of your shirt in your palms, your nails digging into the material. “I can– mmh, I can do that.”

“Ah, my apologies. I do not think I was clear enough.”

You glanced down at him in confusion, only for him to shift his hand from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, gripping firmly– not tight enough to hurt or obstruct your breathing, but tight enough to hold you in place. He brought his head up to look you dead in the eyes.

“I do not just want to hear you say it. I want you to moan that word. I want to hear you gasp it out, to plead with it, to beg with it.” Viktor brought his free hand up over your leg and traced a single finger across your sex. You instantly writhed at the feeling– you hadn’t even noticed just how overstimulated you were. Your hips bucked uselessly, aching for the friction you were being denied, but Viktor didn’t even spare a glance. He kept his gaze firmly on you.

“Will you beg? Will you beg for me, солнышко?”

You let out a sob. “Yes,” you gasped. “Yes, yes, Viktor, I’ll beg. I’ll beg for you. I’ll– I’ll get on my hands and knees, I’ll weep, I’ll– oh, for you.... For you, anything. Anything.”

“Go on, then,” he said, pressing himself ever closer. “Beg.”

The words spilled over your lips before you even truly registered opening your mouth to speak; countless nights of yearning solidified into a desperate, feverish cascade. Overwhelmed, your eyes burned, and so you closed them; your voice no longer sounded like your own, too mangled and wretched to be truly recognizable, yet you relished the ruination, like an unholy indulgence made to an ancient god, and in this sinful prayer, you begged, and you begged deliciously. In the back of your mind you faintly worried you weren’t making any sense; your face was wet; with tears, maybe? With spit? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. You felt Viktor press his palm against your cheek and like a child yearning for comfort, you leaned into its warmth, pushed your face into his hand so that your senses were flooded with him. 

“That’s enough, солнце,” you heard him murmur, his praises a welcome comfort in your overwhelmed state. “You’ve done beautifully. Would you like to come?”

You babbled out something that just barely resembled a “yes”. 

“Alright. You can touch yourself now–”

You shook your head, cutting him off. You could hardly think, could hardly string together a sentence, but you knew without a doubt that you needed Viktor to touch you. You needed him to make you come. You wanted to give up everything to him.

“Do you want me to touch you, солнышко?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to make you come?”

“Please,” you sobbed, half-delirious. “Please.”

Viktor didn’t respond. Instead, he slipped a hand into your underwear.

In all of your fantasies, you’d imagined that Viktor would be good with his hands, and perhaps part of that was wishful thinking on your part, but now you were confidently able to say that you were right. Viktor was good with his hands. So good that he turned you into a mewling instrument, played brilliantly by his graceful, gorgeous fingers. You already knew you weren’t going to last long, but from the moment he began to touch you, you could feel your orgasm building, fast and intense, and you reached up to grasp his upper arm, choking out strangled warnings in between your wanton moans. 

“V– Viktor, I’m– ah–!” You dug your fingernails into the fabric of his sleeve. “Viktor, I’m– close–”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple in encouragement, in reassurance, his domineering persona having completely melted away. “Go on. Go on. Feel good for me, солнышко.”

And you did. You clung to him, limbs locking up as your orgasm wracked your body, your eyesight blurred, yet even in the haze of that gentle undoing you could hear Viktor murmuring soft words into your hair, into the side of your neck, the shape of his body against yours feeling more like home with every passing moment. He kept you riding your high for far longer than you’d ever done yourself, until finally you pushed weakly at his wrist, overstimulated and writhing with sensitivity. He slowly withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening, and quickly went to work undoing your bonds, fixing your clothes, and helping you sit up.

“Good?” he asked. You had to laugh– you could barely move, you thought it would be obvious.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, Viktor, yes. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he said, kissing you gently and resting his forehead against your own. After a moment of respite, he spoke again. “Are you alright to stand? I can’t imagine the desk is too terribly comfortable, especially after something so, ehm, strenuous. Would you like to move to the couch?”

“That sounds lovely,” you began, then stopped, frowning. “But wait, Viktor, I didn’t… I mean, I haven't done anything for you, yet.”

Viktor laughed and pressed another light kiss to your temple. “Don’t worry about that now. You’re exhausted. Besides, getting to watch you unravel underneath my fingers was pleasure enough for me.”

You ducked your head, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to hide the blush rising to your cheeks. “Alright,” you murmured. “If you’re certain.”

“I’m certain,” he replied. “Now, come on. I think the couch is calling to both of us.”

He offered you his hand as you climbed off the table, though you were careful not to put too much of your weight on him, and slowly, the two of you made your way over to the worn sofa that sat in the corner of the lab. Viktor laid down first, his back pushed up against a pillow, and then you followed suit, curling into him, one hand on his chest and the other draped over his arm. Your muscles felt as though they were laden with iron; your body sinking heavily into the cushions. If you weren’t careful, you could see yourself drifting off right there.

“I fear I might fall asleep like this,” Viktor mumbled, echoing your unsaid thoughts. You glanced up and smiled at the sight of his eyelids fluttering, snuggling in close and wrapping your arm around him a little tighter.

“You can if you want. I won’t judge.”

He snickered softly. “As much as I appreciate your open-mindedness, милая, I would prefer not to give Jayce a heart attack when he comes in tomorrow. I’ve already gotten a fair amount of lectures from him about spending the night in the lab.”

You hummed in understanding, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder blade. “Fair. How’s this, then: you close your eyes, and I’ll stay awake to make sure you don’t oversleep.”

Viktor pursed his lips as he pondered the offer, raising an eyebrow at you, before finally his mouth twitched into an amused smile. “And you’re positive you won’t fall asleep yourself?”

“I swear to you, I won’t.”

“Hmm. Well. Alright, I will trust you with this.” He brought an arm around your waist and dipped his head down to bury his nose in your hair. “You promise you’ll wake me up?”

You kissed the underside of his jaw. “I promise, Viktor.”

Quiet once again settled down around you. Outside, the storm continued to rage, every so often interrupted by muted rumbles of thunder. When finally you felt Viktor’s breathing begin to slow and you were certain he’d fallen asleep, you let out a gentle sigh, and went to drift off yourself.

“Солнце?”

You shifted slightly to look up at him, blinking in surprise. His eyes were still closed. “Mm-hm?”

“I just remembered something I forgot to tell you.”

“What is it, Viktor?”

He pulled you closer, as though he feared that if he loosened his grip, you’d fall away like sand.

“я тоже тебя люблю,” he murmured.