[His hand lingers there a moment, noting the way the skin around the injury is that much warmer than the rest of him, no doubt irritated from all the squirming as well as the stitches themselves. He'll fret over it more, inevitably, but he trusts Fenris to be frank about his literal stab wound and so after a moment he brings that hand up to cup his cheek instead, the worry in his expression giving way to fondness.]

I will always care for you. How could I possibly not?

[His other hand slides over Fenris' stomach while he considers his itemized list of reasons Fenris is Good, but perhaps in the interest of brevity:]

You are passionate, and strong, and I would be a fool to adore you any less than I do right now.

[Honestly he could spend the next hour on this, maybe jot it down for another poem, but perhaps that can wait until later. He is still wearing these pants, notably, and hastily lets go of Fenris to undo them enough to slip down off his hips. Not strenuous, doing great.]

So! I have carried you out here, as requested. Do you have another?