Pitter Patter | Victuuri Adoption AU on hiatus

Pillow Talk

Setting her down in the crib, I always feel a twinge of loss. As if I'm leaving my own heart in another room. So I linger, routinely, partially to watch for any signs of struggle breathing or seizures or an SVT attack. But she is a peaceful sleeper.

"Goodnight, Valkyrie-chan," I whisper, double-checking and then triple-checking the baby monitor before gently closing the door to the nursery.

Victor is still making our own bed, Makkachin nipping at his heels while he lays out the sheets.

"How is our валькирия (Valkiriya/Valkyrie)?" Victor smiles through the exhaustion etched like wrinkles into his young visage. His accent is thicker when he's tired, but his question is light and his eyes are bright with their usual happiness.

"Sound asleep," I reply, "you wanna take a peek before we nod off?"

Victor comes round and presses an affectionate kiss to my lips before shrugging a sort of "be right back" statement in sleepy Russian. I resume his work making the bed. Makkachin looks up at me hopefully, once I've finished. Those old puppy dog eyes are so hard to resist.

"Okay, fine," I acquiesce, squeezing under the freshly made bedsheets and patting the empty space beside me.

The smell of clean sheets is dampened by the doggy smell of Makkachin as he jumps up. Victor returns moments later with a sleepy yawn and a skeptical look toward Makkachin and me.

"I've been replaced by my own dog!" he whines in feigned indignation.

"Come here, Vitya," I grumble, opening my arms.

He perks up as he nestles on top of me. He smells like laundry detergent and dust-- a sure testament to the cleaning we've done today. I would give him a break from the housework for a day if it didn't mean he'd just have to watch the baby. We could probably use a babysitter....

Victor stretches briefly before curling up on my chest. I admire his lithesome fit against my body for several heartbeats. But he interrupts my thoughts with a ridiculous quip.

"If you were to call me Daddy now, would it still be kinky?" he yawns.

"Excuse me?" I laugh, his body rising up and down with my laughter.

Victor flops beside Makkachin-- after a short protest from the poodle. He snuggles into his pillow and offers me that famous look that only Victor Nikiforov can achieve. Then he playfully repeats his question.

"No," I affectionately cuff him over the ear, "of course not."

"But she's bound to call us Papa," he says like puh-pah, "and Poppa," Victor cuddles up against me again. "Daddy is an entirely different word--"

"Do not corrupt our baby," I snicker, pushing him off. "If she hears the sexual tones in your voice, I swear, Victor—"

"Come on, Daddy," Victor pleads, a sultry whine entering his voice.

A twinge of desire shivers up and down my spine. I extend one hand to caress the available side of his face while I consider my next move. Victor melts into my tender touch then bubbles up for an eager kiss. Makkachin joins the fight to break down my reserve, weaving excitedly between our legs.

"Quiet, you," I warn the dog. "Don't wake little Valkyrie."

Makkachin seems to understand, sitting back and lolling his tongue quietly. Victor leans back to pat him on the head and congratulate him for being a good boy. Seemingly satisfied, Makkachin leaps down from the bed to take up his position on the floor where he can dutifully monitor the door.

"Okay, Daddy," I lift an eyebrow, addressing Victor. He lights up. "I'm ready to go to sleep, are you?"

He shakes his head vigorously.

"Oh?" I fail at every attempt to stifle the smirk splitting my face.

"Mm," Victor hums, climbing overtop me again. "Don't tell me you're too tired for a little loving?" he murmurs low, accent dark and thick.

He knows exactly how to turn me on. Dammit.

"Okay, Vitya," I acquiesce. "I'm all yours tonight. Just don't forget. We must not wake the baby," I toss my head toward the baby monitor as a warning.

"Mm, of course," Victor promises, closing the gap between us.