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Summary
“Sir, I think we should get out of here,” he said and hurried out from behind his desk. Washington did the same and met him in the middle of the room, movements already slowed and unfamiliar, a haze descended upon his eyes, oh God. “We need to call for a doctor, who knows what kind of poison you were just exposed to-”
“Shh,” Washington interrupted and reached for him, and Alex, too stunned to do much else, let him. One large hand cradled his cheek, thumb brushing back and forth gently. The gesture invoked half-remembered memories of nights and days spent in bed, drenched in sweat, delirious with fever. A familiar, soothing voice mumbling words he didn’t understand, but that made everything better nonetheless. Calloused fingers stroking matted hair from his heated forehead, a thumb brushing away the tears that had fallen during the fever-induced night terrors, a cool cloth wiping at his brow.
The thumb trailed lower and gently teased at his parted lips.
Alex’s breath stuck in his throat. This- this had nothing of the care and comfort the General’s past touches had held. This was something else Alex hadn’t ever known from any man.
Desire.