And if I don’t get 20 long hair jayvik hair pulling fics for BOTH Jayce and Viktor on my desk by next week I’m taking away everyone’s writing privileges. FEED ME.
Update: I went crazy in the tags with how this would go for them 😭😭
You turned to your side, away from the window. Maybe the faint glow from behind the curtains was what had kept you awake. Or maybe all the thoughts crowding your mind were on that side of the pillow, sneaking in through your ear until they could snarl and snap inside of your brain.
Another sleepless night was not what you needed.
A moment later, you amended the thought. If there was going to be one night you couldn’t really rest, this wasn’t the worst night for it to happen. You didn’t have anywhere to be the next day and no real plans. You could sleep as late as you needed to recover what you were losing to your racing thoughts.
With that realization, you gave in and let your mind whir rapidly as it performed a variety of calculations it apparently thought were necessary.
The first - and accordingly most concerning - thought was about your impending departure from the Piltover Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation.
You had been a student at the Academy for almost a decade. Your undergraduate work had been completed on time. Graduate work had slowed you down slightly as you started taking more advanced courses that required more field work. And your doctoral program seemed to have stretched on for an eternity. That was mostly because the Academy’s work-study program had left you attending courses only half of your time.
Even then, your main focus for the last semester had been on writing your dissertation.
From everything you had learned about other schools, Piltover’s Academy was unique in the way dissertations were presented, especially in practical fields. Instead of a simple essay, Academy dissertations were written as a proposal. You were to identify a problem, hypothesize about causes and solutions, and create a plan to help alleviate the problem or treat those suffering from it.
When you were finished with your dissertation, you would submit it to your mentor, Professor Ukkud. Once she went through it with you and you completed any final changes, she would present it to the Council of Piltover. They would read it, discuss your proposed solutions, then give you a chance to answer their questions and defend your intended methodology.
If you successfully defended your dissertation, you would gain a doctorate. You would also be approved a specified amount of Piltover’s money to put your proposal into action, backed by the Council. Doctors whose experiments and solutions helped people were often offered jobs in the government itself, working to improve the lives of Piltover citizens.
Your identified problem - the pollution in the Undercity, particularly the fumes found in the Sump sector - was easily proven. The causes were of concern to Piltover. The solutions were simple and relatively cheap. It was, by all accounts, tailor-made for a successful dissertation defense.
Except that you had been advised to start over.
Your meeting with Professor Ukkud that afternoon had been profoundly disappointing. It had been your first meeting with her since you had discussed concepts. The professor had left the Academy for several months as she delivered a beautiful boy. She and her wife had spent much of the following time bonding with their newborn son and, by the time she returned, your dissertation was almost complete.
Which was why it was particularly heartbreaking that you had presented your lovingly-crafted work to Professor Ukkud only for her to sit in uncomfortable silence. She listened to your explanation, but pushed the dissertation back to you unread. When she finally spoke, it was with an expression of sympathy and a delicate sort of tone.
“I understand your passion for this project and I think it would have a positive impact on the Undercity. However, I feel that there is a strong chance the Council will deny you the funds you’ve requested.”
You had been aghast. The Council rarely refused funds, and when they did, it was often because the attached proposal had been subpar. In a few cases, they had denied funds and awarded the defender their degree anyway, but it had happened only twice that you could remember.
It was considered slightly shameful to receive your degree with no accompanying funds. It was a sign that the Council thought there was no situation in which your special knowledge could play an role in improving Piltover.
“But… But this is important research…” you had protested, knowing it wouldn’t matter. “My solution is simple and cost-effective, and no one can argue the impact it would have on the lives of those living in the Undercity. Especially the ones who live in the Sump sector, but it could make a difference for people who live much further away.”
Professor Ukkud shook her head sadly. “I agree, and I believe there is a strong possibility that your proposal would improve lives across the Undercity and even along the border of Upper Piltover where the river is narrow.”
“Then I don’t understand the problem,” you’d said, openly frustrated.
“Simply put: the Council will not divert funds toward a project that will mostly impact the Undercity.”
You had suspected as much as soon as Professor Ukkud suggested you change the topic of your dissertation, but it was startling to hear her say it so directly. Worse, you knew she was right.
You wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all, but the prejudices of Upper Piltover ran deep. There was no other explanation for the poor conditions half the city lived in - and perhaps more, since censuses tended not to go well in the Undercity.
And, even worse, you partially understood. The Undercity rebelled against Upper Piltover on a regular basis, and most of those rebellions were violent. Yes, they were rebelling against a lack of representation and the fact that the Council didn’t put any effort toward improving the Undercity, but you could imagine that the proud Piltover people would see helping them as rewarding the very violence they were hoping to stop.
None of those thoughts had left you. Instead, you slumped and stared down at the stack of pages resting on the table. They represented literal months of your life. When you weren’t helping Ukkud in her classroom, you were researching or writing or editing or experimenting, all in the process of crafting the perfect dissertation.
“What am I supposed to do, then?” The question had sounded more defeated than challenging. “I can’t rewrite it. The semester is ending soon.”
“I think your best option is to stay an extra semester,” Professor Ukkud opinioned, looking visibly relieved that you weren’t planning to argue with her about it. “You could try to create a different dissertation, but in the limited time… You would either end up with an inferior proposal or be too exhausted to defend it.”
You hadn’t had anything else to say, by then. What was the point? Instead, you thanked the professor for her guidance and left the classroom. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon sulking and mulling over your options.
The way you saw it, you had two: spend an extra semester at the Academy to create another dissertation and proposal about an issue you weren’t as passionate about, or…
Or present the dissertation you had already prepared.
Professor Ukkud was right, you probably wouldn’t be funded. But you could leave here and go somewhere where you could make a difference. You had taken several grant-writing courses during your time at the Academy. It would be far more difficult to do things on your own. But wouldn’t it be worth it?
You turned onto your back once more, eyeing the ceiling with disgust. Now that you had rehashed everything about the disappointing meeting and rethought about the difficult choice that faced you, you had hoped sleep would come. But you were just as awake as you had been before and you clearly weren’t going to make any important decisions that night.
Sliiiiiide. Scrape. Scrape! BOOM.
Your initial jolt turned into you sitting bolt upright in bed as a tremendous noise came from the apartment above yours. You looked up at the ceiling, like you could see through it if you stared hard enough.
When that didn't work, you started to lay back down, but paused. Viktor knew you didn't need to be awake early the next day and had no specific reason to stay quiet, but this was excessive even for him.
Immediately, your mind started jumping to negative conclusions. What if Viktor had tripped? What if his cane had caught on something, leaving him tumbling to the floor? If had fallen badly enough to hurt himself, how would he call for help? Would anyone notice until the weekend ended?
The last thing you wanted was to imply that he couldn't take care of himself, but it would be good to check on Viktor, right? He couldn't be offended if you were making sure he wasn't hurt. And if he was, you could always pretend you were upset with him for making so much noise. He didn't know you had already been awake…
You pulled on a sweatshirt over your pajamas and started the trek upstairs. You had been casually sleeping with Viktor for months by that point, but you didn't go up to his apartment as often as you had expected.
And who could blame you? Not only did Viktor prefer to keep people away from the experiments that filled his apartment, but he also didn't have a bed. You liked to think you were fairly low-maintenance, but you did prefer not to have sex on the floor. Unless it you were in a particular mood. Or a hurry. Or-
You pulled your thoughts back to your current mission. Viktor could be hurt, and you needed to make sure he wasn’t in pain and waiting to be found.
The first obstacle was that you didn’t have a key to his apartment. It had never been necessary before and you were struck by the strangeness of that for the first time. Your relationship was strictly casual, but it would have made sense for you proximity to lead to more opportunities for hooking up. Including swapping apartment keys.
And so you knocked, your taps on his door were firm with an edge of urgency. Even as you waited for a response, you planned: if you knocked again and there was no answer, you would break down the door. How you would accomplish that, you weren’t really sure. As you eyed the solid wood of the door, you wondered if you might be overestimating your own abilities.
Fortunately, you and your poor shoulder were spared from seeing how you fared against the door when it opened and Viktor’s brown eyes peered out. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” you asked, a little nonplussed.
“Of course,” he told you.
“What are you doing up here?”
Viktor looked overly innocent, which was a good as a red flag in the current situation. “Nothing in particular. Why?”
You squinted at him. “Well, I heard a really loud noise a few minutes ago. I thought you might have fallen and knocked yourself out.”
“Do you really think so little of my balance?”
The dry question was met with a hard stare of your own. You had seen him trip over nothing, and if something impacted how his cane landed, he was virtually guaranteed to end up on the ground.
Graciously, you decided not to bring up any of that. Instead, you said, “You’re out of breath. A little odd for someone claiming not to be doing anything in particular. And it’s really dark in there…”
You tried to see around him and into the apartment, but Viktor leaned into your line of sight. “Seriously, did you knock over a lamp or something? It totally dark in there. Wait, not totally… Are those candles? I don’t think you’re allowed to have candles in the dorms.”
Viktor sighed heavily, letting the door swing out from his grip. You took a moment to process his bare feet and rumpled hair before accepting his silent invitation and stepping past him into the apartment. As always, you almost struggled to believe that his apartment shared a layout with yours, since his was decorated so dramatically differently.
His furniture was almost entirely missing, with the exception of a very old and well-worn recliner that he slept in. The rest of the space was taken up with various experiments. They had changed since the last time you had been there, but precise layouts of chemical, biological, and mysterious experiments still spread across every available surface. Each one was accompanied by a notebook containing neatly written notes.
It took a moment for you to check, but you couldn’t see anything around the room that would have caused the amount of noise that had brought you upstairs in the first place. That was good, since it meant that Viktor probably wasn’t hurt and trying to hide it from you.
There was a bare circle on one of Viktor’s countertops, all the experiments carefully swept clear. In the middle of the circle was a cluster of candles, throwing warm light dancing around the room.
“Well, at least you made sure nothing would catch on fire from your illegal candles,” you conceded.
Viktor came to stand beside you. “Well, nothing that I don’t want to be caught.”
Your eyebrows raised without your permission as you gave him a sidelong look. “Are you lighting things on fire in your apartment? Need I remind you that I live downstairs and that the building is ancient? And flammable?”
“Besides,” he continued, ignoring you. “I think they set a mood quite nicely. Don’t you agree?”
“What mood are you trying to set? Angsty serial killer, or are you going for-”
Viktor leaned close, the motion so sudden that you pulled backward. You would have thought it was just a rushed attempt at a kiss, but the way he was looking at you was anything but romantic. His amber eyes were studying your face like you were one of his experiments. You didn’t care for the feeling.
“Is something wrong?” he asked abruptly.
The bluntness of the question threw you off, made you less able to create a believable story. “Not- Not really? Bad day. Then my upstairs neighbor keeps being noisy.”
“Today was your meeting with Professor Ukkud, was it not?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question; Viktor had proven to have a near-eidetic memory when it came to the things you told him. “Did she have many critiques for your dissertation?”
“Something like that,” you admitted.
“Strange,” Viktor mused. “I thought it was rather brilliant.”
Your eyes snapped to his. Viktor was smiling slightly, but he seemed sincere. He had read your dissertation.
When you had asked him to the first time - claiming that you needed another set of eyes on it - he had refused. His explanation was that his ties to the Undercity were too strong, that he wouldn’t be able to look at your proposal with any objectivity. That had seemed like a lie to you, but you hadn’t pushed. A boundary was a boundary, even if he wasn’t giving you the real reason behind it.
“You… you read my dissertation?” you stammered.
“Of course,” he told you. “It’s you. How could I no-? Unh!”
You felt a little guilty about the way that his throat had collided with the top of your shoulder as you pulled him into a hug, but you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping him with your full strength.
It was only when he stroked a hand down your back, hushing you gently, that you realized you were crying. The entire story spilled from you then. Every detail about Professor Ukkud’s recommendation for rewriting, your crushing disappointment, and the nagging fear that she was right and that to present before the Council would be to set yourself up for failure.
Viktor held you close, making appropriate noises as the stream of words pouring from you finally slowed, then stopped. “Do you want to talk it over? Consider your options?”
“No,” you refused, smiling tearfully at him. “I feel better just telling you about it. But I could really use a distraction. That is, if you don’t mind? I know I’m all gross…”
Viktor’s soft lips halted your apologies and explanations. You still felt as gross as you had claimed to be, but you sank eagerly into the kiss. It wasn’t often that you let Viktor lead - normally, you were too excited for that - but you gladly followed the soothing motions of his mouth against yours.
“We do not have to-” he started when you pulled back to breathe.
“No, but I really, really want to,” you admitted openly.
“In that case…” Viktor stepped away. You immediately felt the loss of his warm body against his, but he was holding a hand out to you. When you took it, he started leading the way to his bedroom.
It took until you were at the doorway to remember why this was a bad idea. You tugged slightly against his grip. “I know I said I want a distraction, but I’d rather not get eaten by one of your plants, Viktor. That’s not exactly what I’m looking for right now.”
“Do not worry,” he assured you, pushing the door open. “I removed them last week.”
“...Why?”
He laughed openly at you. “You’re too young to be so skeptical.”
And then he stepped through the door, pulling you in behind him before you could continue protesting.
To your surprise, Viktor had been telling the truth. The plants that had dominated most of the bedroom the last time you’d been inside were gone, as were the colorful lights that had illuminated them. He had even removed the protective tape from the light switch.
Even without turning on the notoriously harsh overhead lights, you could see Viktor’s bedroom clearly enough for your mouth to fall open. “Is that..?”
“Yes, it is,” Viktor confirmed, smiling more broadly than you had ever seen.
You started forward, but paused. “I’m almost afraid to touch it. Is this a trick? A mirage? An optical illusion?”
Viktor only chuckled at you, gently shaking his head. You moved closer despite yourself, extending a hand until your fingers rested against the soft, sheet-covered surface of a real, tangible bed.
“It’s real,” you reported, awe heavy in your tone.
Viktor rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “I know, I moved it in here today.”
You rounded on him. “Is that what was making all of the noise? You shouldn’t have put it together yourself, Viktor. I would have been happy to help you.”
“I didn’t build the frame myself,” he said dryly. “I know my limits. I had some members of the housing administration bring the pieces and assemble everything for me this afternoon.”
“Then what were you doing that made so much noise?” you asked. “And how did the housing administration not freak out when they saw your collection of experiments? You have to be doing irreparable damage to the interior of this place.”
Viktor looked offended. “I know how to perform an experiment with minimal risk to the environment, myself, and others. And did it not occur to you that I could be trying to surprise you?”
“Honestly, the idea of you moving the plants was surprising enough,” you admitted. “But where are they? Are they okay?”
“They are fine.” You relaxed at the answer. Viktor’s plants may have tried to eat you, but that didn’t mean you wanted to think about them rotting somewhere. “The experiments were a success, so I had the plants moved into the lab for further testing and eventual propagation.”
You nodded, impressed despite yourself. Viktor’s efforts to grow plants using various colors of light had seemed ridiculous and frivolous when you’d first learned about them, but he had eventually told you that there were implications for growing them in the Undercity.
“Now,” Viktor said lowly, taking a step closer to you, “Are discussions about my botanical experiments distraction enough for you?”
You thought about it for a moment, but decided that, no, it wasn’t. “I think I need a distraction that’s a little more… hands-on.”
As you said the last, you grabbed Viktor’s spare hand, placing it on the curve of your hip. The warm weight of it made you tense with anticipation even as Viktor rolled his eyes. “You are impossible.”
“Flatterer,” you accused, leaning in for another kiss. Viktor dropped his feigned grumpiness immediately to seize the offer of your lips. Eagerly, you lost yourself in his embrace.
By the time you remembered that you were a physical being in a physical environment, you had changed positions entirely. You were sitting now, making good use of Viktor’s new bed. He was in front of you, cupping your cheek with a careful reverence that made you feel distinctly melty.
His graceful fingers traced up and down the stretched-out collar of your sweatshirt. “Tell me you are not wearing anything complicated under this.”
You shook your head, grinning. “No, you’re still the king of complicated clothing.”
Viktor gave you surprisingly wicked smile. “I planned ahead.”
And then you watched, fascinated, as he unbuttoned the few buttons on his vest. With it gone, you found that his shirt was held together only by the buttons that would show above and below the vest itself. With three more buttons undone, Viktor was bare from the waist up, and looking very proud of himself for it.
The laugh that burst from you was loud and joyful. That moment of silliness from Viktor had done more to lift your mood than hours of ruminating had. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Flatterer,” he returned. “You are also falling behind in this particular race.”
Your eyebrows shot upward. That was a challenge you had no intention of letting stand. You stripped off your sweatshirt in a single motion and - luckily enough - static friction pulled your sleep shirt off at the same time.
You gave Viktor a triumphant look, then both of you were fumbling to remove your own pants. Viktor had buttons to deal with while you did not, but you were stymied by the shoes you had put on to climb the stairs. He beat you, but only by a margin of seconds. You cut off any intended boasting with a deep kiss. And since you were already there, you straddled his thighs at the same time.
Viktor’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back slightly. “No, I’m going to be on top this time.”
For the first time in a while, you felt a little uncertain. “Is that a good idea? Your leg-”
“-Will be fine,” he told you firmly. “It has improved with all the exercise it has gotten lately. Nothing long-term, but I can do this. Let me do this?”
The soft entreaty, more than anything else he could have said, convinced you. You gave a shallow nod and Viktor set to work. He guided you down to the mattress - and you were privately disappointed that the sheets didn’t have time to smell like him yet - and settled on top of you.
The weight of him was solid between your thighs, even with him bracing a hand against the bed’s surface. You were always mildly surprised at Viktor’s size - his height and narrow build often made him appear far more slender than he truly was.
You did have admit that you liked the position for how close everything was. When you were on top, you often felt further away from him than you wanted to be. But with Viktor taking the lead, his free hand roamed your body as both of your hands did the same to him. He alternated between kissing you and nosing along your skin while you did your best to suck tiny bruises into every stretch of his neck and jaw that you could reach.
After a span that seemed both endless and impossibly short, Viktor pulled away with a groan. “I am uncertain how much longer I can wait to be inside of you.”
Everything between your legs gave an eager pulse, your muscles helpfully lifting the cradle of your hips to press yourself more firmly against him. The length of him slipped easily between your folds, pressing against you.
You gave a stuttered breath at the contact - he wasn’t entering you, but the angle of him left his head brushing firmly against your clit and the sensations were dazzling. Viktor must have been in a similar frame of mind, because he gave another groan. This one was hoarse, verging on desperate, and you throbbed.
“Please,” you asked, lifting your hips once more.
It took a fumbling moment for Viktor to reposition the head of himself against your entrance, but he made up for lost time by sliding home the instant he was in place.
The noise you made was inarticulate and loud, and you were grateful that the only apartment connected to Viktor’s was your own empty one. Viktor was silent, but when you remembered to open your eyes, you found that his had fluttered shut. There was a wrinkle of concentration between his dark brows, but something about their upward tilt gave him a hint of beatific supplication. He looked like he was praying.
He drew in a breath - a long, shaking inhale - and opened those gorgeous eyes.
“You are never anything less than incredible.” His fervent, matter-of-fact delivery was sincere enough that you believed him. It wasn’t enough to remove the soreness of the day from your heart, but it certainly didn’t hurt.
But you were neighbors with benefits, not a couple. This level of emotion seemed taboo, somehow forbidden for two people in a casual relationship. You pushed your response aside, teasing, “Are you talking about me or my pussy?”
“You.”
The only way to hide your response to the affirmation would be to close your eyes, and that was a sacrifice you weren’t willing to make. So instead, you leaned up to give him a kiss, hoping to convey some sense of what he meant to you. You couldn’t be sure what came through, but at least he began moving inside of you.
Viktor felt exquisite inside of you and it was hard to concentration on anything other than the pressure he put on your g-spot every time he moved into or out of you. But in the quiet spaces in his rhythm, you gathered yourself enough to watch him. Not only was watching Viktor one of your great joys in life, you were also searching for any signs that this position was hurting or straining him.
True to his claims, it didn’t seem to be. Viktor’s pace was eager, nothing but intense focus on his face. The noises he made didn’t sound pained, either, and you let yourself relax into enjoying the entire experience.
Your finger traced along the lean muscle of Viktor’s chest, danced across his ticklish ribs, and met briefly behind his back. The feeling of his muscles tightening and releasing as he drove into you and pulled back out was intoxicating. It also made you aware of the way your hips were surging up to meet his thrusts, turning every stroke into a earth-shattering collision.
When your timing matched up with Viktor’s, it felt like he was pushing his way up into your stomach. The depth of it was a little strange, but it didn’t hurt. Far from it, actually. You jerked so hard that Viktor paused.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” you told him, adding, “If you stop, I’m going to hurt you.”
He laughed, and the desperate need pulled away long enough for you to see the humor in it. “It feels wonderful, Viktor. Please keep going.”
Viktor took you at your word and started thrusting into you even harder than before, but much faster. The pleasure came roaring back with a vengeance.
In moments, you were clutching at Viktor’s shoulders both to keep yourself from being pushed up the bed and in an effort to keep yourself grounded. This was overwhelming, but in a way that left you ready for more even while you were still experiencing it. This was something addictive, you realized, but you couldn’t even begin to worry about that.
Especially when your body started to tighten around Viktor’s.
“Close.”
Your panted warning made Viktor nod. He dropped his pelvis a fraction of an inch, making his occasional brushes against your clit far more often and intense. Seemingly instantly, that contact pushed you unceremoniously over the edge.
Viktor managed to keep his pace even with your body locking down around him. You shook and panted and gasped - and made some sounds that were far more dramatic - as he worked his way closer to his own orgasm.
When you drifted back down to earth, you were content to watch Viktor work above you. He was close, you could see it in the way his arms trembled, the drop of sweat from his temple tracing down over jutting cheekbones.
“Close,” he hissed, pushing into you so hard that it sent a shockwave through your body.
You smiled at that. You had asked him once why he warned you when you had already come. He had simply shrugged and told you, “It seems the polite thing to do.” It was so perfectly Viktor that you had laughed then. It still made you smile.
Viktor plunged deep inside of you, giving a low and hastily-stifled groan as he came. He was particularly beautiful in the throes of pleasure, you noted. His pale skin was slightly flushed with exertion, lips swollen and red from kissing you. When his head tipped back, you could admire the marks you had scattered across his neck. His eyes were closed, but you could picture the stunning shade of amber they would be when they glowed with pleasure.
When he was finished, Viktor’s arms were shaking badly enough that you were worried, but he managed to lower himself beside you rather than collapsing. You wouldn’t have minded that so much, but Viktor’s limbs were so long and angular that collisions tended to leave you with large, unfun bruises the next day.
“Are you okay?” Viktor asked.
You pulled your attention back to the moment. “Yes, of course. Why?”
“You are usually talking by now,” he told you. His eyes were still closed, but a tiny smile played around the fullness of his lips.
With a hum, you said, “Good point. Maybe we should talk about all of this.”
Viktor’s eyes opened at that. He looked wary. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” You sat up slightly, wincing at the way his cum started trickling out of you. But you pressed your legs together, ignoring the sensation in favor of counting on your fingers. “The candles, the bed, the mysterious noise with no apparent cause…”
“That is what would make a noise mysterious,” Viktor agreed, an edge of sarcasm in his accented voice.
“Shush. Anyway, I’m working on a theory…” You paused to recheck your work, but arrived at exactly the same conclusion you had come to the first time. “Were you trying to lure me up here for some reason?”
“‘Lure’ is an ugly word.”
“That’s not a real answer,” you informed him. “Were you planning something? Something I derailed by bursting into tears before you could get to it?”
“It wasn’t important,” he told you. “Not by comparison.”
His closer hand was resting against the mattress, between his face and yours. You laced your fingers with his, and he returned your smile. How could you be sad when there was magic like this in the world?
“Will you tell me what it was?” you requested softly. “Please?”
Viktor’s smile turned a little sickly and he swallowed, but nodded. “I wanted to- Well, I still want to… Ask- If you might want something more serious.”
“With you?” you checked.
Now looking distinctly queasy, Viktor nodded again. “With me.”
You beamed, feeling inexplicably close to tears once more. “I would like that a lot, Viktor.”
“You-?” Viktor’s eyes were wide, even as he feigned a casual attitude. “You would. Very well. Then I believe we should enter into a romantic relationship together.”
“I believe the same,” you said, giving him your best grave expression. It wasn’t particularly solemn, not with the way you had been grinning a moment before, but it was enough to make Viktor roll his eyes as he tried not to smile. “When should we begin?”
“In my opinion,” Viktor said carefully, “we already have.”
“Fair point,” you conceded, squeezing his hand as you leaned in for another kiss.
---
Author's Note - As I've said on a few different fics I've posted this year, this is my last Fanfic February! The tolls of writing over 100,000 words to post all in one month is pretty high, especially when I have so many other ongoing projects.
I have some additional ideas for this story and I might continue it when I've caught up on the other works I've been ignoring. For now, I think this is a good pause point.
