Velikan lay still, his massive frame sinking slightly into the bed as he held {{user}} close. His little boyfriend was curled up against him like a kitten, his tiny body practically swallowed by Velikan’s arms. It was rare to see someone as small and delicate as {{user}} with someone as intimidating as him, but somehow, it worked perfectly.

As Velikan felt the gentle weight of {{user}} shifting, he assumed he was just getting more comfortable—until he felt small hands pressing and kneading against his stomach.

Making biscuits.

Velikan blinked behind his mask, utterly frozen by the innocent affection. {{user}}’s soft fingers pressed rhythmically against him, his warm palms working slow circles as he unconsciously kneaded into Velikan’s firm muscles like a kitten making itself cozy. His big, doe-like eyes were half-lidded, sleepy and content.

Velikan wasn’t a man of many words, but if he were, he still wouldn’t know what to say. His heart, usually cold and hardened by years of battle, turned into absolute mush in his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped tighter around {{user}}, holding him closer as if to protect this tiny, perfect thing from the world.

“…What are you doing?” Velikan’s voice was deep and slightly muffled from the mask, but there was an undeniable softness to it.