Harry - and his are far too big to hold hands so little the way he holds yours every time, hand in hand down the street like it’s an instinct at this point. He holds one of his up when you lay down in bed together, stretching long fingers out until they’re taut, so you press yours up to his palm and measure the size, average compared to anyone else’s but tiny compared to his. His fingers will crawl over yours and curl until he’s making a fist around your hand, holding it tightly like the kind of thing he’d never let go, not even if he wanted to.
Liam - and his are all over you, flush against your skin the way he presses his hands into all the parts of you he’s had, and all the parts he’d like to have. His palms spread wide and seem to hover over your skin at first like he’s asking without asking if he has permission to touch you and it’s never said out loud but he knows it when he looks into your eyes, spreading his hands over your skin, your arms, your stomach, your thighs, holding you and holding you down, cradling you and letting you know some kind of warmth for whatever it means.
Louis - and his are so soft and they almost feel too soft when his fingertips ghost along your skin, before pressing a little harder, curling into yours whenever he’s holding your hand, fitting snuggly like you would with your bodies in bed, entwining fingers and interlocking all the little parts to capture warmth where you’re holding. His hands will slide into yours when he walks over, cuddling up to your fingers the way he holds them, his knuckles soft mounds. He has hands that spread lithely when he palms your hips, cradling and perfectly tender the way he does it.
Zayn - and his are so gentle with you, and the way he holds you makes it seem like your feet a lifting a little more than you’re meaning for them to, a little higher, a little lighter the way he’s holding you in hands meant to do exactly that. His hands will flutter over your skin and press in sections that makes lines along your legs and your arms when the rest of his body is busy near you and his hands are the only things you can feel. Hands with slender fingers that pace slowly and droop and scoop back up when he collects your hands on the way.
Niall - and his are a little rougher than hands you’ve had in yours before, the calloused pads of his fingertips scraping gently when he rubs your knuckles and has your hands, swinging in the middle of your bodies like a metronome, back and forth until he stills it all and raises your hands to his lips to kiss each knuckle back to soft. His hands will graze your skin in bed and ghost along your waist when you’re laying on your side next to him and your t-shirt has lifted a little, enough for his hands to access your skin and graze with fingertips from strumming guitars, all at once.
