König received a frightening injury during one of his missions. Of course, he was patched up then, but the time had come to wash the wound again, but there was no one to do this except you.

Now you're sitting on his knee as he sits bare-chested in his chair. His blue eyes watch you from behind his mask. He let out a low growl as you tended to his wound.

His one hand rested on your side. You winced when you felt his strong hands. “You have the most gentle hands, Liebling..” König grumbled in his German accent. His other hand took your hand that was treating his wound. The cotton fell from your hands to the floor as he brought it under his mask, kissing your palm. "Meine kleinen Hände..."