Work Text:
Sylus is lounging on the couch, making his way through his work at a leisurely pace. You sit next to him, taking one of his large hands in both of yours. He relinquishes control of it without protest, preoccupied but always open to physical contact with you.
His hand is slightly calloused, and you run your fingers up and down his own, examining the texture. You bend them, testing the joints and feeling the bones underneath his skin. His fingers are slim and long, yet you can still feel the hidden strength that lies within them.
Out of all the hands you've ever seen, his have to be the most beautiful. They're incredibly deft, skillful with small, delicate, mechanical tasks, despite what their large size would lead you to believe. You would be a tad embarrassed to admit how long you have spent watching him clean his guns, his talented fingers disassembling and reassembling the mechanism's small parts with mindless ease.
Something else you always appreciate about his hands is how warm they are. Yours tend to run cold, and the heat of his skin against yours is comforting as well as relieving during the winter months.
You forget yourself in your reverie, lifting his palm up and nuzzling your cheek against it, enjoying the warmth against your face. You feel his thumb stroke against your cheekbone, and you look up at him, finding his fond gaze fixed on you. How long has he been watching...?
Noticing your shyness, Sylus refrains from teasing you about your affectionate gestures for now. He just opens his arms, offering you your dedicated spot on his lap. He somehow knew what you were longing for from the start, and grew tired of waiting for you to ask.
"Come here, kitten. Let me keep you warm."
And you do, accepting his invitation without a second thought. You press your body against his, freeing his hand from your clutches in favor of feeling his chest against your own, pulling yourself closer by wrapping both of your arms around his back. It's as if your soul feels more complete when close enough to nearly entwine with his.
Sylus gives up on his attempt to focus on work, as a far superior target for his attention had presented itself to him so readily. He is more than content with watching you melt into him as he threads his hand beneath your shirt, gently scratching your back in your favorite spot.
Your body goes slack against his as your eyes droop closed, just barely able to keep yourself from drooling onto his sweater. You let yourself drift to the soft sound of his record player, warm, comfy, and safe. It's easy to let go of your worries, knowing deep down in your bones that Sylus would take care of any possible problem that could arise while your guard is down.
He gazes down at you with incredible fondness, feeling more love than he ever thought possible just from witnessing the sight of your brow relaxing, releasing the furrow that had persisted there for so long. And he, too, lets himself indulge in the softness of this moment with you.