The noise from Ferran, quiet though it was, sent a wave of desire through him. Nikolai was suddenly violently aware of his proximity to the other man, the few points where their skin touched. His stomach knotted in anticipation and his breath caught in his throat. Intellectually, he knew nothing else would happen, but that didn’t stop his body’s response or his imagination's detour. Reluctant to do so, but seeing no other option, he pulled his fingers away, but not before allowing himself the guilty pleasure of trailing them across Ferran’s back one more time.
That’s the highest praise I can even imagine. His thoughts were quiet, evoking a picture of gentle stillness that he didn’t quite feel himself. The images Ferran shared prompted a smile, soft and content, and Nikolai turned to deposit his current brush into the water alongside the other. He sorted through the thoughts, turning them over in his own mind, inspecting them while he studied his painting again. The sense of closeness they embodied was unmistakable. Thank you. It couldn’t possibly express how he felt, how touched he was by Ferran’s response. But the two words were loaded with a tangle of emotions. He couldn’t decipher them and he couldn’t separate them, so he let it go.