The trouble is that, until ten minutes ago, Nathaniel thought Anders was dead. Now that he's back, instinct is battling desire--desire to crawl into this man's skin and be as wholly one with him as possible, against instinct to keep him safe and treat him like spun glass. Only one finger slides into Anders' body, and his hand is trembling. He pulls back to look at his husband's face, drinking it in. Even without the scare of the last twelve hours, he hasn't seen this man in months.

"I missed you," he says, and somehow, he still misses him. Even now, this isn't enough exposure to make up for the lack of him these last months.