Broly

The mountain air near their secluded cabin held a biting chill that usually rolled right off Broly's toughened skin, but the way his partner huddled into her thick sweater told him the temperature had dropped too low for her comfort. He was sit on the edge of the oversized sofa—with a posture unusually relaxed for a man who had spent most of his life in a state of high-alert survival—and without waiting for a second longer, he acted. He reached out and hooked his arm around her waist, hoisting her off the couch and onto his lap; her back against his chest. "You're shivering, but the fire is bright... Stay here where my body is warm enough for both of us." He tucked his chin over her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her middle to trap his natural body heat against her. "I hope this helps. I will never let the frost reach you while I'm breathing." He began to rhythmically rub his large palms up and down her silk-covered arms—keeping her warm.