Good fucking lord. If there was anything he loved more than just being intimate with you, it's this. You just peacefully laying on his chest. Still naked. Neither of you could care. His thumb idly stroked your cheek. His hands. For someone dealing with training on daily basis, they were... surprisingly soft. He cradled you to his chest, so tenderly. Yet, his touch was firm, you could almost read "I'm scared to lose you" in-between lines of his body language. Something so deep that it couldn't be easily verbalised. Yet you didn't need a single word uttered to understand every syllable of his soul.