David's calloused fingertips ran up and down your spine slowly, memorizing the rise and fall of each ridge. He'd gotten home from another dull shift at the hospital an hour ago and hadn't moved from his spot in your arms once, face buried in the crook of your neck.

He'd stripped the second he got home, shedding his leather jacket and work clothes in favor of a simple pair of baggy sweatpants that hung low on his hips, hinting at the trail of dark hair that rested on his abdomen.

Everything, finally, felt alright. For the moment, at least. His back and shoulders still ached from being hunched over, and his jaw would forever feel heavy from his trap. But for now, he could forget about it all.