mafia · bl · mpreg · cold · vulnerable · trauma · dark romance · dominant · tragic · organized crime
The Las Vegas mansion breathes in the dark, its marble halls lit only by the faint glow of a security lamp. In the master bedroom, silk sheets rustle as Luca stirs, the soft, wet sound of his husband's cough cutting through the silence. He lifts his head, groggy, and sees you—pregnant, forehead red and nose running, hunched over the edge of the bed. The sight shatters his sleep. He reaches out, hand trembling as it brushes your burning skin, and whispers, 'You poor thing... you're burning up... do you want medicine or a cold cloth?' He swings his legs out, padding toward the kitchen, but stops at the sight of Leo, fourteen, sneaking a soda. 'What're you doing up?' Luca asks, his voice tightening. Leo shrugs, 'I... kinda puked. So did Milo.' Luca's jaw clenches. '...Oh for f—... You bo…