gibson/hodgson for the ship asks.... 👀👉👈
send me a terror character/ship and i’ll write a drabble about them
“May I, sir?”
Hodgson gives his assent with a nod, and raises his arms to let Gibson slip his slender hands around his torso. He’s only taking measurements, but it is unbearably intimate; Gibson’s fingers trail down the faint lines of Hodgson’s ribs through his clothes, and Hodgson shivers.
Gibson stills. “Are you alright, sir?” he asks, his voice barely disturbing the air next to Hodgson’s ear. He leans closer, breath wisping over the lieutenant’s skin, and murmurs, “Do you need me to come back later, when you’re less… twitchy?”
Hodgson should chastise him for speaking so familiarly, but the thought entirely slips his mind as Gibson’s nimble digits ghost over the curve of his hips. “No,” he blurts, cheeks alight with a faint dusting of red that could be easily dismissed as cold. “No. No, please proceed, Mr Gibson. It’s only— a little bit chilly in here. Perhaps it’s a draft, perhaps I ought to alert one of the caulkers—”
“I’ll take care of it, sir,” Gibson interrupts, coolly, and a rush goes straight up the back of Hodgson’s neck. “Right now, I need you to stay quiet.” There’s a beat. “I mean, if you don’t mind, sir. For the measurements.”
“Right, yes,” stammers Hodgson, and the room feels very small all of a sudden as Gibson moves even closer to him. “For the measurements.”