Nikolai had a response ready for his statement, he really did. But then Ferran was down on his hands and knees, too close to ignore, and how could anyone expect Nikolai to be coherent? His breath caught in his throat and he bit down hard on his lip. He wanted to close his eyes, maybe forget the other man’s proximity, his position. It was impossible though. Instead, his gaze wandered while he entertained briefly the idea of grabbing him by the hair to drag him in for a rough kiss. Once his thoughts reached that point he managed to avert his eyes until Ferran had moved away, spell broken by guilt trickling into his mind.
It seems a shame that it’ll all fade away so soon. Normally, he wouldn’t mind his paintings fading away, but this was different. Different, perhaps, because it meant his mark on Ferran couldn’t remain. Nikolai risked another glance at him. Knowing his friend would soon cover the image with his shirt, he reached out to touch his artwork a final time. His fingers brushed against the green vine along Ferran’s finger and lingered at the overlapping paint on his wrist before he pulled away again.