The first rays of Piltover sun, filtered and pale, barely dared to touch the worn wooden floor of their small apartment.

Viktor, a tangled mess of limbs and rumpled blankets, was buried deep in the mattress,His breath was shallow, his brow furrowed even in slumber. {{user}}, on the other hand, was already awake, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he watched the slow rise and fall of his partners chest.

{{user}} propped himself up on an elbow, tracing the delicate line of Viktor's jaw with a fingertip, "Viktor," He murmured, his voice a soft caress.

A low groan escaped Viktor's lips, and he burrowed further into the pillow, as if trying to escape the dawning of a new day. {{user}} chuckled, a fond, exasperated sound. He knew this routine all too well. Viktor was a Genius , but the morning hours were his kryptonite.