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[Content warning: Trauma, mentions of past abuse, nightmares, smut.]
Dinner was amazing.
You guys had finished it rather quickly, Johnny going in for seconds.
You were sitting at the table, still in your lacy red lingerie that you had assumed to just be a cute outfit. Kyle couldnāt keep his eyes off you, but Johnny was the more handsy one. His palm glued to your bare thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles on itās soft skin. He squeezed lightly when you said something he liked. Occasionally he would test the waters and let the tips of his fingers brush your inner thigh.
āIce cream for dessert? Kyle asked, standing to collect the dirty plates from the table.
Johnny only hummed and pinched you playfully. āWould rather eat her up for dessert.ā He snickered, a light blush coating your cheeks as Kyle scolded him for his crudeness.
āNot my fault. Sheās teasing me with this little outfit,ā Johnny countered, his hands drifting to the hem of your top, toying with the lace trim. āEnough of that, or Iāll tell John.ā Kyleās voice was flat, brooking no argument. He shook his head as he set the plates in the sink, then scooped ice cream for each of them.
You didnāt finish yours, too full, too sleepy to keep your eyes open. Your head lolled forward as you leaned against the table, lids fluttering. Johnny let out a soft laugh, the sound warm in the quiet kitchen. He pushed his chair back, the wood groaning softly, then stepped behind yours. The scrape of chair legs against the floor jolted you upright.
āSāok, love.ā His voice was lower now. āKyle, you got cleanup duty while I put the pup to bed?ā
Kyle nodded, rolling his eyes, but his goodnight to you was warm. Johnny scooped you up without waiting for an answer, heaving you over his shoulder in one smooth motion. His hand settled on your bottom, a little too deliberate to be innocent, and Kyle let out a long-suffering sigh from the kitchen.
"I mean it, MacTavish."
"Yeah, yeah, night, Kyle." Johnny's voice was already muffled as he started down the hall, one hand steadying your back while the other stayed exactly where it was. Each step bounced you gently against his shoulder, and you let out a sleepy murmur of protest that didn't sound convincing even to your own ears.
It didnāt take him long to reach your shared bathroom. Just like the night before, he sat you down on the counter and helped you brush you teeth and wash your face, rubbing off the ice cream that had dripped down your chin. He didnāt help you with any night clothes though, which was odd but you couldnāt bring yourself to care at your level of tiredness.
He picked you up with one arm like you weighed nothing and carried you back to your room, laying you down on top of the mattress. You let out a yawn and stretched, your back arching off the bed and your ears folding flat against your head. Johnny moved quickly, slipping a pillow beneath your arched back and pulling it up until it elevated your hips.
A sleepy question formed on your lips, but it dissolved before you could voice it. You were too warm, too heavy, already sinking into the mattress.
āSuch a good pup wearing such a naughty outfit. Had me stiff during dinner.ā He hummed, his hands gliding over your sides before trailing down to your exposed thighs. āLemme make you feel good, can I?ā
You nodded and let out a bit of a whine. He pet your hair and put his pointer finger to your lips. āQuiet for me.ā He murmured, his voice sounded heavy now. His hand then trailed down your neck, past your collar, and between the valley of your breasts. His fingers traced the lace, his touch teasing and slow. It made you nervous, you could feel your heart beating harder than it had ever before. He then palmed your breasts, pressing his thumb against your nipples, which were hard enough to make an outline in your top. You bite your lip and suppressed a soft sound. His thumbs circled your peaks as he stared down at you. His eyes were scarily low, almost predatory.
His tail flicked behind him and he groaned before abruptly leaving your tits, going to the bottom of your lace top and pulling it roughly over your head. You gasped and your hands flew over your chest, the tiredness in your eyes had disappeared quickly.
āSh sh sh, you okay bonnie? I can keep going?ā He checked in, you hesitated for a moment. You thought about saying no, but your curiosity and the throbbing in your cunny had clouded your judgement. You took a breath before nodding, your bottom lip was still tucked between your teeth.
Johnny wasted no time pushing your hands away and using his mouth to attack your nipples. He held your arms over your head and ran his tongue flat over them a couple times before attaching his lips to them and suckling. You moaned softly and something warm and tingly was ringing in your belly. ājohnnyā¦ā you whimpered. He let go at that and kissed your breasts around your nipples before licking a path up your sternum. āYou like that baby? Has anyone ever made you feel like that? Touched you here?ā
You shook your head no, making him let out a pleased sound.
āIt only gets better.ā He mumbled breathlessly. His mouth moved with deliberate slowness, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, each one a soft and wet. He paused to nose the jut of your hipbone, exhaling a shaky breath that ghosted over your sensitized skin before he sat up.
His palm slid down your thigh with a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the muscle before trailing lower. He lifted your leg, cradling your calf with one hand while palming his cock through his pants with the other. He leaned in, his lips were soft but insistent, pressing a kiss to your knee, then the side of your shin, then the arch of your ankle. He lingered there, his mouth working a gentle, bruising suction into the thin skin just above your ankle bone, leaving a blooming mark like a hidden signature.
When he pulled back, his lips were slick and slightly swollen. His gaze dragged up your body before he settled onto his knees between your spread legs. He guided your thighs over his shoulders.
āYouāre so pretty.ā A groan that rumbled from deep in his chest. He tilted his head, pressing his mouth to the insside of your thigh, not quite a kiss, more a nuzzle, lips dragging as he spoke again, muffled against your skin. āSay it back. Tell me you know it. Tell me youāre pretty.ā
His eyes flicked up to yours, waiting, hungry for your voice to echo his adoration back. āI knowā¦ Iām pretty.ā You whimpered, he could tell that you werenāt confident in that though. He was so close, you could feel his breath through your panties. Your legs quivered against him, and your pussy throbbed and ached.
āI wish you could see how sexy you are right nowā¦ā He hummed, biting down in the lacy of your panties and pulling on them, before letting it snap back. He then pulled them to the side with his rough hands. āSo wet for me already.ā He cooed, blowing air onto your clit.
He licked a stripe up your slit before lapping up your wetness eagerly, his tongue spent what seemed like forever exploring your most intimate place. He zeroed in on your clit before circling his tongue around the swollen bud until your hands reached for his hair, tugging him closer with a cry. āPlease Johnnyā¦ā
āPlease what baby?ā He asked, still pressed against your warmth. āPlease let you cum? Go ahead love, cum for me.ā He moaned, running his tongue over your clit even faster. He yearned to put his fingers in your gushing pussy, throw you over the edge with that, but he knew John would kill him. Heād already be in trouble for this.
It didnāt take you long to cum on his tongue, it felt so good. Your thighs squeezed his head and he groaned. āYou taste so good.ā You heard his muffled voice coming from between your thighs. You parted them slightly so he get air. Youāre eyes fluttered, the orgasm he guided you through had brought you back to that exhausted state.
Johnny crawled back up until hid was face to face with you again. He pressed kisses on your cheeks and neck, notably avoiding your lips, but you didnāt question it. You were satisfied like that, your ears twitching softly as you listened to his soft moans. Thatās when you realized that he had taken his cock out of his pants and he was humping his hand while pressing his lips against you. You were out cold before you could witness him cum though.
That night your dreams were vivid. You had been laying in bed, alone, waiting for something. Maybe someone. You didnāt know who yet. The clock on the bedside table ticked softly, each second echoing in the silence, amplifying your sense of anticipation.
Suddenly the door slammed open and a man came in, you couldnāt see his face but his presence was terrifying. He stalked closer, and closer, until his knees were touching the bed. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you close before leaning over you. He mumbled something, you couldnāt understand him but whatever it was made your heart race. He yanked your ankle again and started to pull you down the bed until you flew off it, hitting your head on the hardwood flooring. You groaned as he dragged your weak body out of the room and through the hallways of the manor. John wasnāt there, neither was Johnny or Simon, or even Kyle who was usually near the front of the house. You started to cry and beg softly for him to stop, trying to rip your leg away but it did nothing but anger the man.
Once he got to the front door, he dragged you out. It was dark and raining out, though he didnāt care. He counted to drag you through muddy puddles and tuffs of cold wet grass. He drug you all the way past the gates, across the road, and just on the cusp of the woods. He stopped there, making you shake with fear of what he was going to do.
For a minute there was silence. You couldnāt her anything but your own cries and his panting, then, you felt something cold and heavy wrap around your throat. It had a string scent and was thick, whatever it was tugged you forward and you heard and clattering. It was so tight, you had to strain to breath. You tried to claw at it, but it wouldnāt give. Suddenly the manās footsteps started to leave. You could hear the crackle of leaves start to get further, for most that would have been comforting, but that struck even more fear into you.
He was leaving
Abandoning you here
You tried to get up and walk back to the manor, but you couldnāt go far. Anytime you tried to move more than three feet there was a tug on your neck.
You sank to your knees in the mud, gasping, your fingers still clawing at the thing around your neck. It was a collar, thick and made from some type of metal, and from it trailed a heavy chain that disappeared into the darkness behind you. You traced it with trembling hands until your fingers brushed a stake driven deep into the earth. That was your tether. Three feet of rusted chain. An animal on a lead.
You tried to scream for help, but your voice came out broken, swallowed by the storm. The manor lights were just visible through the trees; warm, yellow, so close. But no one came. No one was coming.
You could see silhouettes in the windows of the manor. You could see them all, they were there, living life as a family and having a time while you were out here trapped in the rain, dirtied with mud and grass clippings. There was a dark abyss of woods behind you, and nothing to protect you from what could be in it. You were so scared, scared of the dark, scared to be alone, scared of the man who took you, scared of them for letting him.
You thought it would be different here, with John and the rest of them. They had been so good to you so far, so kind. But here you were, trapped outside just like how Johnās cousin found you. Tied to a lamp post outside your masters house.
The rain plastered your hair to your face, streaming into your eyes. You pressed your forehead into the mud, the collar biting into your throat with every shallow breath, and you thought about the night Johnās cousin found you.
You had been tied to a lamppost for hours. Your master had left you there as a lesson, a punishment for something you still didn't understand. The cousin had crouched in front of you, her face soft with pity, her voice gentle. āItās okay. Iām going to take you somewhere safe.ā And you believed her. You believed her so hard that you let yourself hope.
You looked at the manor one last time. The lights were still on. They were still laughing.
And you realized, with a clarity that cut deeper than the collar, that you were just a toy for them.
.
With that, you awoke. Your cheeks were damp with tears, and so were the sheets below your head.
Johnny wasnāt in your bed, and you had on comfy pajamas. They were soft against your achy muscles. You sat up and took a deep breath, it came out just as shaky as you expected. You tried not to let that dream, well more like nightmare, affect how you see the boys.
As you swung your legs over the bed and pressed your feet to the cool wooden floor, you coaxed yourself into the day. You walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, your face was red and puffy but you had a slight glow to you. You didnāt focus too much on your looks, more so worried about starting the day despite the anxiety you had at the moment.
You brushed your teeth, washed your face, showered, did everything you were supposed to in the mornings. When you were back in your room you put if a pair if shorts and a tee, nothing too crazy. You spent a little more time drying your hair before you shuffled to the kitchen, trying not to get lost since it was your first time navigating the manor alone. Thankfully you got it first try.
John and Kyle were both standing by the island, facing the opposite direction of you. You just stood there awkwardly for a moment, twiddling with your fingers. You wanted to cough, do something to get their attention. You wanted comfort from your nightmare, but talking about felt like hell. You didnāt want to come clean about your fears, how your old master instilled a level of trauma in you that you thought would pass.
You were so deep in your thoughts that you hadnāt noticed them turn around until Kyle called out, āYou okay pup?ā He asked softly, walking over to you. You snapped out of your little moment before nodding, you looked past Kyles shoulder to see john, a smirk playing on his face. Ā
āHeard you had some fun last night?ā John started, not letting you answer Kyleās question. Your cheeks turned bright red at his accusation, making him chuckle. His voice was rough but warm, it made you tingle just like how johnny made you feel last night. āThe mutt told me everything,ā He continued, ādonāt worry lovie, I know youāre a good girl. Johnny got his punishment.ā
Your eyes widened at that, āpunishment? No I let him, he didnāt do anything bad.ā You whimpered, your heart beating quickly in your chest. You didnāt want Johnny to get in trouble for something that you had willingly enjoyed, even if he did initiate it.
John let out a sigh, moving from his position to take Kyleās place in front of you. He rest his hands on your arms and rubs small circles over your skin. āDonāt worry too much pup, Iām sure he enjoyed his punish more than he should haveā he said, trying to ease the worry etched into your face.
Enjoyed? How could someone enjoy their punishments? That was a foreign concept to you. When your master would threaten you with punishments you would be terrified. Shaking all day with your heart racing until his words came to fruition. The anxiety of it made you nauseous to even think about.
Johnās voice interrupted your thoughts again.
āDid you like it?ā
You looked up at him, then your glassy shied away. Your posture shifted from foot to foot. You nodded despite wanting to hide from all that attention. Kyle laughed at your awkwardness and gave you a knowing look.
āJohnny couldnāt stop rambling about how sweet you are love, was that your first time getting your pussy ate?ā He questioned, though he already knew the answer. You were too flustered to answer, John shook his head and hushed Kyleās crude question.
āDonāt mind him lovey, want breakfast?ā The older man asked, turning around to head back where he had the food they had made earlier laying out. āItās aābit cold now, but we have eggs and pancakes.ā
While the food smelled good, your appetite was not winning this fight against your anxiety. You couldnāt stomach any food right now. āNo thank youā¦ā you murmured, your ears flat on your head as you spoke. John glanced back at you, worry wrinkles formed on his forehead but he only hummed. āIf youāre sure. If you get hungry later, you can always get some left overs. Youāre welcome to anything here.ā John said, gesturing to the fridge that was a couple feet away from him.
You nodded before turning around, looking through the living room behind you, it was completely empty, so were the hallways down there near your room. āWhereās umā¦ Simon?ā You asked, it took you a moment to remember the quiet manās name. Kyle chirped and pointed towards the glass door leading outside. āHeās out there tending to the plants. He does that a lot, old bastard loves his plants.ā Kyle snorted, John letting out a laugh in agreement.
āWhat kind does he grow?ā You tilted your head towards the window, trying to get a peak at what they were talking about.
His digits are always cold. All year around. It doesnāt mean that heās always freezing, but somehow both his fingers and toes are like icicles, unless heās taking a shower, a bath, or are buried deep under the duvet. They also warm up when he and John are making love. Johnās warmth seems to transfer to every part of Sherlockās body on those occasions.
Their last case has been taxing, and they all but fell into bed last night after theyād showered off the residue from their tired bodies.
Sherlock wakes gradually and realises that heās cold. During the night, heās evidently tossed off the duvet. It lies on the floor. Goose flesh is forming all over his body and he shivers. He bends down to pick up the duvet, which is cold. Sherlock shivers even more once heās covered himself with it. He seeks out John but finds his side of the bed empty. Then he hears the toilet flush and relaxes fractionally. He pulls Johnās duvet on top of his own, but itās not enough.
āHey! Why have you taken my duvet?ā John mutters when he returns from the loo.
āCold,ā Sherlock mumbles.
āYeah, thatās what happens when you lie in just your pants in a cold room,ā John explains.
He yelps when heās made room for himself beside Sherlock.
āJesus! Youāre like a block of ice,ā he exclaims.
āTold you,ā Sherlock replies with chattering teeth.
Johnās warm hands stroke Sherlockās arms, torso, and back, but it doesnāt help all that much. Even after heās pulled the frozen detective flush to his chest, Sherlockās still freezing. He also feels that his neck, back, and legs are sore from the exertions from the night before. When he tries to turn his head, a sharp pain in his neck makes him grunt.
āWhat is it?ā John asks.
āIt seems like my entire body are stiffening and aching after that chase. And it doesnāt help that Iām not able to relax because of how cold I amā Sherlock says.
āRight. I have an idea. Be back in a tick.ā
Sherlock starts to shiver violently when the heat from Johnās body disappears. He shuts his mouth tight to ensure that the tooth-enamel remains intact.
āOn your front for me,ā John orders when he returns.
Sherlock obeys without bothering to find out whatās going to happen next. He trusts John completely and his exhaustion makes him pliant.
āI have to remove the covers from your torso, but I promise it wonāt take long before youāre warmed up properly,ā John says softly.
Sherlock just shivers in response and braces himself for the chilly air to get access to his naked skin again.
Behind him, John makes some preparations Sherlock canāt deduce in his current state. Soothing music, probably from Johnās phone, makes Sherlock relax a fraction, before the two duvets are pulled down to his hips. Sherlock gasps when the cold air on his body registers.
āThere now. Shh. Iāve got you, my love,ā John breathes in Sherlockās ear.
Warm and slick hands stroke up his back, over his shoulders, down his arms, and then up his back again. Johnās hands are strong, adept, and soothing. His thumbs find the sore spots after a while, which makes Sherlock moan. The pain is of a good sort. Itās healing, and soon enough, Sherlock feels his body loosen. To his surprise warmth is surging through him, and the shivering has stopped completely.
John covers his torso again and moves down the bed. He slicks his hands with the massage oil and runs his palms firmly up Sherlockās calves. Sherlock buries his face in his pillow and sighs contentedly. Granted, thereās pain, but not as severe as on his upper body.Ā
āFeeling better?ā John inquires quietly.
āMm,ā Sherlock agrees.
His ability to speak at this point, is non-existent.
John chuckles and lets his palms cup Sherlockās clad arse for a second. Itās not a sexual touch, just a caress. Sherlock sighs happily and obliges when John beckons him to turn to his back. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for Johnās next move.
Firm hands cradle one of his feet, careful not to tickle him. His toes get most of the attention, and once John is satisfied, he moves to the other foot.
Sherlock is almost unconscious when John lies down beside him and takes him in his arms. He canāt remember the last time he was this relaxed. Itās been ages, heās sure of it.
He basks in Johnās proximity and the luxurious feeling of being pleasantly warm.
āThank you,ā he murmurs against Johnās neck, placing a soft kiss under his ear.
āOf course, love. Youād do the same for me,ā John replies and kisses Sherlockās temple.
Sherlock has a snarky remark on his tongue, but he canāt muster the strength to say it out loud. Whatever it is.Ā
When he wakes hours later, heās forgotten. Probably some magic trick on Johnās part.
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For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt #279 Warm Hands.
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go
Characters: Gordon and Virgil
Word Count: approx 953
Domestic fluff (no warnings apply as far as I can tell).
Gordon was well known within his family for suffering from the affliction of cold hands.Ā Virgil in particular had fallen victim to icy fingers placed against warm skin on numerous occasions.Ā But, in his defence, Gordon found this particular big brother was the most effective heat source for warming frosty digits.Ā
Of course, it also helped that Virgil was often the only brother in range when this was needed, and despite the initial grumbling, he was also usually quite amenable to lending body heat to a little brother in need.
Virgil himself seemed to always have warm hands ā at least in Gordonās experience.Ā It didnāt seem to matter where he was, or what he was doing, if Gordon placed a distractingly cold hand anywhere on Virgilās exposed skin there was glorious warmth to be shared. Then those familiar, big, warm hands would soon be deployed to enfold his own and work some much needed heat into them.
It kind of made sense.Ā Virgilās hands always seemed to be moving ā dancing across the piano keys, applying brushstrokes to canvas, or sketching on almost any surface, artfully deploying exactly the right tool for anything that needed fixing, or gently but deftly applying first aid.Ā
But for Gordon the most memorable thing those well-muscled and well-used hands could do was to give expert massages to sooth overworked swimmerās muscles, or gently relax a cramp.Ā He couldnāt remember how or when it started, but it had been quite a regular thing between them.Ā Somehow Virgil always seemed to know exactly when he needed the sweet relief of warmth and pressure working all the tension out of his back, shoulders and neck, and would be there to provide it in exactly the right measure.
He'd often wished he could return the favour, and with todayās rescue being as rough as it was, Gordon could see that now was the perfect time to do so.Ā But he couldnāt even approach those heavy-lifting muscles without doing some important preparation first.
Luckily, preparation was something Gordon was very good at.Ā He usually employed this talent when planning pranks, but the surprise he was planning this time should produce a much more favourable response.Ā And preparation for this one had begun during post-flight checks when Thunderbird Two had returned to her hangar.
Under the guise of restocking the medical supplies Gordon had grabbed a couple of the tiny packets containing air-activated heat packs.Ā Later, once checks were completed, uniforms shed and heād showered and changed into his regular attire, the packets were opened and shaken and then clutched in each hand.
After half an hour with the little heat packets kept within reach ā in his pockets when not in direct contact with his hands ā he deemed himself ready to put the next phase of the plan into action.
Virgil was sitting at their dadās desk, most likely making a start on post-rescue paperwork when Gordon decided to make his move.Ā Making his stealthy approach from behind, avoiding the squeaky floorboard, he gave the little heat packs in each pocket one last firm squeeze each.
When he placed his warm hands on his big brotherās shoulders he felt the muscles tense at the unexpected contact.
āGor- . . . Gordon?ā Virgilās voice started with the low warning tone that usually accompanied an unapproved activity, but quickly rose in pitch and inflection.
āThe one and only!ā
As Virgil tried to turn his head to face him, Gordon gently redirected the movement with one hand and started kneading tense muscles with the other.
āWhat are you doing?ā Virgil directed his gaze forward again, allowing Gordon to knead with both hands.Ā āAnd how are your hands so warm?Ā Theyāre never this warm!Ā What did you do?ā
Gordon chuckled.Ā āDonāt you worry about that.Ā Just relax and let me do this for you.ā
Right on cue he found and pressed against a particularly tough little knot that had Virgil groaning and relaxing into the massage as the knot released.Ā There was an easy silence between them for a while, broken only by the soft grunts that let Gordon know he was finding all the right spots.
āWhereād you learn to do this?āĀ Virgil asked somewhat sleepily.
āKind of from you.Ā Iāve been on the receiving end enough times.āĀ He paused a moment, concentrating his attention on another nasty knot.Ā āBut Iāve always kind of wondered how you learned to be so good at giving massages.ā
āI guess it started when you decided to get serious about swimming competitively.Ā I wanted to be able to support you, and I had an interest in medical treatments, so I looked into the kinds of medical complaints swimmers often experienced and how to treat them.Ā I mostly learned from video tutorials and trial and error on unsuspecting family members.ā
Gordon laughed again.Ā āWell, Iām very glad you did.Ā Of all the massages Iāve had, yours are always the best.ā
āDonāt be ridiculous, Gordon.Ā Thereās no way my efforts can compare with a professional.ā
Gordon paused his thumb circles long enough to offer a playful tap to the side of Virgilās head.
āIām not kidding, Virge.Ā Youāre massage skills are awesome, and I need you to know I appreciate every single one youāve given me over the years.Ā And if the tension that was in these heavy lifting muscles is anything to go by, I think I need more chances to pay you back.ā
It was Virgilās turn to give a chuckle.
āIf you think Iām bad you should try it on Scott.Ā When heās tense his neck and shoulder muscles feel like steel girders.ā
They were both laughing now. āNo, I think Iāll leave Scottās tense muscles to your magic fingers!ā
a little fluffy hilson fic i rewrote, the original from agessss ago. i really like the thought and how i wrote it so here we go!! (its 1 am im going insane over these two old men)
Ever since wilson had moved closer to the hospital, he and house always took a short walk to his apartment. They hung out for a bit, popped a few beers, watched some monster trucks (or a sappy movie depending if house was feeling nice) and wilson would drive house home. it has been a usual routine for them, and it was both functional and practical.
it was early January, or to make things easier per say, fucking freezing. it wasn't snowing, it wouldn't be snowing until nightfall, but god was it cold. they both managed to wrap up warm, wilson forcing house to wear a scarf after being pestered for around an hour. wilson placed on his own scarf, hat, jacket and coat. he reached in his pockets, expecting to find his pair of gloves. yet finding nothing. he groaned, realising hed given them away this morning, so he guessed hed have to live without them. wilson then made his way to houses office, seeing he was already dressed and ready to go. wilson smiled softly, walking besides house to the lobby exit. once out the door, the chilly air hit the two. wilson immediately raised his hands to his face, rubbing them together and blowing into them, trying to warm them up immediately. house started to ramble about his new ducklings, except thirteen, who he actually liked for some reason. wilson quickly gave up on his attempts to warm up, letting his hands fall to his sides. as they walked in a comfortable silence, house slipped his hand into wilsons, interlocking their fingers. wilson felt a flutter in his heart at the gesture, looking down at their hands. but, houses hand was warm, wilson soaked into the feeling, as his hands were like ice. he could feel the roughness of houses calluses from overworking and suddenly felt at ease.
"house.?" wilson mumbled quietly, glancing at house.
house didn't answer, continuing to rant about his day as he subconsciously stroked his thumb over wilsons stone-cold finger. wilson smiled softly, not focusing on houses words, but rather focusing on their hands. how houses were always warm, how wilsons were always cold.
