Goosebumps rose in the wake of Nikolai's fingertips across Ferran's back. He wasn't that cold, but he hoped their appearance could be blamed on his shirtlessness and the wet paint rather than a sense of longing. He smiled as Nikolai explained the painting. His enthusiasm amazed Ferran and his descriptions always sounded poetic.
When Nikolai's thumb brushed his cheek, his smile broke into a grin and he turned his head into his hand to hide it, gently biting his thumb. It was thankful that Nikolai looked away then. He wanted to push him to the floor and pay him retribution for all the tantalizing touches. Ferran felt a little guilty for getting carried away with his thoughts when he heard Niko in his mind again. The other man was his friend, after all.
Poetic, he responded. Even in the adversary conditions of the cold, the tree preservers and blooms regardless of what's expected of it.