Ferran's eyes dropped to the place on his hand where Nikolai touched him. Slowly, he licked his lips, closing his eyes then looking away, hoping the other man wouldn't notice the longing there. He fiddled with the fabric of his shirt, but did nothing to put it on. It wasn't like he had anywhere to go other than the stack of paperwork calling his name from his apartment.
If you had it your way, I'd be covered head to toe in your artwork. Tattooed like the lizard man. Ferran managed to drag his eyes away from the pattern on his shirt to look at his friend and smile. The meaning or implication behind his comment didn't reach him. All he could think of was Nikolai's own tattoo.