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Waking up slow and lazy was a luxury Viktor had only recently begun allowing himself to enjoy. At first, the idea seemed absurd,his body, long accustomed to restless nights and constant aches, wasn’t built for indulgence. Comfort was something fleeting, always prickling at the edges with his bad joints and cramped muscles.
But now, nestled under the weight of a thick comforter, Viktor blinked slowly into the morning. His body, curled tight with his hands tucked against his chest, he failed to remember why lingering in bed had once been so unthinkable.
The winter sun, muted and soft, seeped through the curtains. Late morning, he mused, unfolding his arms, stretching them with a pleasant ache. Seeking warmth, warmer than the cocoon he’d built, Viktor reached out blindly for the body next to himself.
The reaction was instant to the smallest touch, Viktor's sleep-heavy, pliant body was pulled in the warmth with a single firm hand wrapped around his upper arm, moving down to pull him even closer by his waist.
“Finally awake?” Jayce’s voice, low and drowsy, hummed against Viktor’s hairline as he now nestled to the naked chest, nuzzling into the crook of the other man's neck. Jayce's body was slightly tacky under his cheeks and hand. Sweat cooled after a long sleep, but still carried the heat of it.
He could only grunt at that, mouth dry, refusing to open yet. And sigh, content, when Jayce grabbed his thigh gently with his big hand, to lay Viktor’s crippled leg on his own, elevating it. Taking away the pain he wasn’t even aware was there.
Jayce, uncharacteristically still in bed at this late hour, ran a gentle hand down Viktor’s hair to his back, fingers pausing now and then to rub softly, an imitation of a massage. Most days, Jayce was, much like Viktor, an early riser, but for entirely different reasons. Awake with the sun, chirpy as a bird, ready to seize the day, he’d say, like a silly, fake commercial.
But not today. Today, Jayce clung to sleep that had long passed, holding Viktor’s dozy body close, as though the day might wait for him just this once.
“Good morning,” Viktor murmured at last, his voice rough from sleep as close-mouthed kisses were trailing down from his hairline to eyes to cheeks eventually to his chin. Even Jayce's morning breath, sharp and sour was comforting, threatening to lure him back to sleep. The affection of it was intoxicating, making Viktor tilt his head to meet him, give him clumsy kisses of his own.
Weekends were a routine now. A luxurious indulgence to Viktor. They’d stay like this in bed for a while until Viktor's back would cramp up or Jayce's arm would fall asleep under him before slowly separating, skin sticky, peeling off of each other as if refusing to let go.
Eventually, kisses were no longer welcome, and his stubbled face swatted away like a fly, Jayce stretched his body, muscles shifting and joints giving satisfying pops. He got up, pushing Viktor's head gently to free his arm, the taller man grabbed a shirt from behind the chair, while Viktor rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
“I’ll make coffee,” Jayce said, padding to the kitchen, feet bare and in his boxers. “And eggs -do we have bread?” he added from far away.
They did have bread because Jayce bought it the day before. From the bakery, he dragged Viktor to and bought him an egg tart, before feeding him a bite of his sandwich. A date, Jayce called it. Another routine in Viktor’s life, a new luxury of having nowhere to go on a weekend but to visit some bakery or a boutique, hand in hand.
Back protesting too much to his position, Viktor in the end pulled himself up in the bed and guided his bad leg down to the floor. So many comforts had crept into Viktor’s life, luxuries he once would have never imagined. A boy from Zaun, with his crippled leg and bent back, now had a soft rug under his feet -a gift from Jayce, because he didn’t want Viktor’s feet to be cold on such mornings.
"Viktor," Jayce called out from the small kitchen they shared, loud and bright, accompanied by the sounds of kitchen clatter, pots, and pans. "Your medicine is on the table."
From the kitchen doorway, Viktor could see the broad back of Jayce, body illuminated by the light hitting him from the kitchen window. His hands were busy, always busy, flipping the thickly sliced bread on the pan with the tips of his fingers, letting out a silly little hiss from the burnt of it, and shaking his hand while doing so.
Silly man, Viktor thought as he let out a snort, involuntarily, making Jayce turn to him, with a sheepish smile.
"Sit baby," Jayce cooed, probably to make Viktor's amusement brighter and laugh a little longer. Silly nicknames, mostly jokes but they’d bring heat to Viktor’s face and a faint curl to his lips, no matter how many times he heard them.
Viktor rolled his eyes for a show as he sat down, though the warmth in his chest lingered. Silly, silly man.
Jayce later came over with mugs of coffee and eggs, putting it in front of the other with a kiss on his hair before sitting down himself, close enough for their thighs to touch.
Viktor with his fingers soaked in egg yolk from dipping pieces of bread in it, turned to his man, watched him flip through the newspaper with one hand on the table, shaking his leg absentmindedly, rubbing into the other man. His hair was still stuck in every direction and stubble dark, looking deliciously unkempt in his shirt with a hole on its collar.
"Jayce,” he said, “would you like to go downtown today?"
"As a date?"
"Of course, what else?”
But the biggest luxury of all, Viktor decided in that moment, was to call Jayce his own. That, Viktor knew he could never get used to.