You’re curled up next to him, back to his chest, the room thick with silence. He doesn’t sleep - not yet.

His hand brushes your hip under the blanket. Barely a touch. Testing. Careful.

"Too soft", he thinks. You’re too soft for him. Too warm.

But he still pulls you in.

You shift, subtle. Not enough to push him away. Just enough to let him know you’re still awake.

“Uncle—”

He closes his eyes. That voice. Too close. Too trusting. He presses his mouth to your shoulder, not quite a kiss, not quite restraint.

And he stays like that. Silent. Still. Wanting more than he ever says out loud.