Morning came slow, softened by the muted light filtering through the blackout curtains. Aldrin was already awake, tiny fingers clutching at Luka's hand, eyes wide and curious, the first yawn of the day stretching into a small, innocent squeal.
Luka hummed softly, moving to the changing table, preparing the baby for breakfast. Adrien leaned against the doorframe, watching quietly. He was still cloaked in the tension of the previous night—the adrenaline of the near attack, the sharp awareness of threats outside—but here, the world was slow, soft, and intimate.
"Do you always watch?" Luka asked, glancing up, blue-gray eyes both amused and questioning. Aldrin cooed at the sound of his father's voice, tiny hands waving.
Adrien straightened, voice low. "I… observe. Safety first." His gaze flicked to the minions quietly helping—Nino balancing a tray with baby food, Mylène testing the water temperature for Aldrin's bath later, keeping the chaos manageable but gentle. Even under domestic duties, their loyalty and precision were intact.
Luka smiled faintly, rocking Aldrin slightly. Adrien's lips twitched, not a smile, but close.
Later, the routine of the morning moved into the bathroom. Aldrin's bath was a delicate process: lukewarm water, gentle scrubs, soft towels, and a sprinkling of toys floating in the water. Adrien lingered outside the door, watching Luka expertly cradle the baby in the shallow tub, keeping him secure and calm.
"You can come in," Luka said softly, not looking up. His voice carried trust, casual authority, and the faint teasing tone that always ignited Adrien's pulse.
Adrien's breath caught. Coming closer meant proximity, intimacy, that could be dangerous to his composure. He stepped in slowly, careful of the wet tiles, careful of Aldrin, careful of the tension coiling between him and Luka.
Luka's shirt clung slightly at the back from steam, droplets of water catching on his skin. Adrien's pulse quickened without a word being spoken. "Do you… need help?" he asked, voice low, almost restrained.
"Maybe," Luka said softly, tilting Aldrin toward him. "Just… watch the floor and maybe… pass me the washcloth."
Adrien bent slightly, careful of the puddles, passing the cloth, letting his fingers brush Luka's briefly. The contact was fleeting, practical, yet electric. Luka's eyes flicked up at him, soft, teasing, daring.
"You're tense," Luka murmured, voice low. "Even here."
Adrien's jaw tightened. "I… have responsibilities," he said, voice clipped but betraying the tight coil of desire beneath.
Luka smirked faintly. "Responsibilities can wait. The floor can dry, the water can warm… you?" He let his gaze linger, provocative yet understated. "You can't fight what you feel."
Adrien swallowed. The steam, the cooing baby, the close proximity—it was overwhelming. He wanted to reach, to brush fingers along Luka's wet skin, to linger near him in ways that were practical, subtle, and undeniably charged. He wanted him like a dog in heat.
Luka handed him Aldrin for a moment, letting the small weight rest in Adrien's arms. The baby instinctively curled against him, trusting, grounding, and the tension in Adrien's chest shifted.
"You're… different with him," Luka said softly, voice low, teasing. "Soft. Controlled… but different."
Adrien's lips pressed into a line, gripping the baby gently. "I… protect what matters," he admitted. His gaze flicked to Luka, heat coiling slowly. "That includes him. And… you."
The brush of Luka's hand on Adrien's arm as he reclaimed Aldrin sent a jolt through Adrien. Practical touches—passing a towel, steadying the baby, leaning close to prevent slips—were charged, electric. Every mundane gesture became intimate, a bridge between tension and desire.
"You're blushing," Luka murmured, voice teasing, soft, close enough that Adrien felt it in his chest.
Adrien cleared his throat, forcing composure. "I'm… not," he said, though the warmth rising in his cheeks betrayed him.
"Uh-huh," Luka said, smirking. "We'll see."
The bath ended, Aldrin wrapped in a fluffy towel, yawning, clean and calm. Adrien carried him to the nursery while Luka dried off, towel draped over his shoulder, droplets still clinging to his skin. The steam from the bathroom clung to them both, the proximity electric yet functional, practical yet intimate.
"You're… good at this," Adrien said quietly, voice low as he watched Luka cradle the baby against his chest. "Better than I imagined."
Luka tilted his head, lips curving faintly. "Better than you imagined… or better than you want to admit?"
Adrien's pulse quickened, and he leaned slightly, careful not to overwhelm the space, careful of Aldrin, careful of the intimacy. "Both," he admitted, voice low, rough, private.
Luka smirked faintly, stepping closer. "I like honesty," he whispered. "Even from someone who usually hides everything."
he baby giggled, tiny hands reaching toward Adrien's face, grounding him, reminding him of stakes, of love, of connection beyond desire.
Adrien allowed himself a brief smile, brushing fingers through Aldrin's soft hair. "He… likes me," he murmured, voice low.
"You're growing on him," Luka teased, smirk playful yet eyes heated. "Careful, or he'll outshine me."
Adrien's lips twitched. "Impossible," he said softly, though his pulse betrayed the tension that simmered between him and Luka, between desire and responsibility.
Later, the minions moved quietly through the apartment, checking security, delivering snacks, tidying spaces. They interacted with Aldrin naturally—offering soft toys, making funny faces, humming melodies—but never overstepping, always respecting Luka and Adrien's authority. Adrien watched, subtle pride twisting his chest.
Adrien's jaw tightened. "Your shirt.." he murmured, voice low. He let his fingers brush Luka's briefly, practical yet lingering. "It...is showing everything..."
Luka's gaze darkened slightly, teasing and intimate. "Everything?"
Luka leaned closer, their proximity almost negligible and whispered in a soft seductive voice ."Like what you see?"
Adrien's lips pressed together. "Heck yeah," he admitted softly, almost reluctantly, though the heat in the room was undeniable.
The day moved slowly after that. Bath time, laundry, feeding, music—all became small stages for intimacy, trust, teasing desire, while practicalities of life and mafia responsibilities lurked outside, unrelenting.
And Adrien realized, slowly, deliberately, that this duality—danger outside, domestic warmth inside, subtle smexy tension threaded through every act—was becoming something he couldn't resist. Something he didn't want to resist.
Luka noticed the subtle change in him—the way his hands lingered just slightly longer, the heat in his eyes when their fingers brushed, the quiet desire beneath practical actions. And he, teasing, daring, grounding, fed it carefully, never overstepping, always measured.
By nightfall, Aldrin was asleep, curled in Luka's arms. Adrien lingered nearby, watching.
"You're impossible," Luka whispered softly, leaning slightly closer, steam from the bathroom still clinging to him. "But… I like it."
Adrien exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt into the intimate warmth around them. "And I… like this," he admitted softly, voice low. "Even with everything at stake… I like this."
Luka's lips curved, teasing, faint, a promise, a dare. "Good," he murmured. "Because it's only going to get… more complicated."
Adrien's chest tightened, pulse spiking.
Dangerous.
Smexy.
Real.
And he wouldn't have it any other way.