"Daddy." Poke. Poke. Poke.

Cracking an eye, Lumen's face swam into focus, followed immediately by the sharp pressure from where the pads of his hands were digging into my ribs. He went in for a fourth poke, the discomfort increasing as the weight was distributed solely to his left palm so that he assault my cheek again.

"Lou," I groaned, trying to shove him off. The little bastard was like Peter Parker after a fucking manicure and clung on like the little spider roach that he was. "Stop."

"I waky you up, daddy," Lumen said. It was still dark, but light had managed to creep into the room. Enough to...