Viktor waded toward her. The water dropped to his thighs as he reached the shelf. He looked at her once — her small body, her delicate collarbone, the slight visible round of early pregnancy that pulled the skin of her lower belly taut in a way that wasn't a belly yet but was undeniably 'something' — and something in his chest registered it the way it always registered the evidence of what he'd made.
He stepped between her legs.
"Purring already," he said.
"I'm not—" The purr was audible. Her ears flattened. "That's just how I breathe."
"Mm." He gripped her hips and pulled her to the shelf's edge.
"'Mm' — 'Viktor'—" Her breath caught when his tip found her entrance, and the irritation in her voice inverted itself into something else entirely. "Oh— 'oh'— you're still— from before— you're still—"
He pushed in.
'"Haahn~—!!"'
