[His friend’s grip loosely curls around Hubert’s wrist, and his movement stills, thrown askew with mild confusion. Only seconds later does his mind catch up with what his body is already feeling, as if Ferdinand had sent a shock of electricity jolting down his arm, originating from that touch — or that his fingertips were made of flame, setting a flushed warmth rushing across his skin.
He cannot stop it, and hating being the one easy to read should Ferdinand do little more than turn around, it becomes the second day in a row where he mentally admonishes himself for making yet another mistake. He's never one to be passive, and yet also never one to take action that only muddies up the waters in any given situation, whether it be politically or socially charged. This? Was certainly neither, but the same concept applied.
Or at least he thought it did. Desire rolls through Hubert, muted behind sharp eyes, and he knows that his face has reddened when his friend turns around. (Of course he turns around. Braiding his hair had been a tactical choice, in that the other would not be able to read his face all that well, forced to keep his gaze straight. Of course Ferdinand shatters that same advantage without care.)]
Yes. [He forces out the word before the moment lingers too long, not breaking his gaze from the other.] It is distraction, my friend, when neither of us can afford to be distracted.
no subject
He cannot stop it, and hating being the one easy to read should Ferdinand do little more than turn around, it becomes the second day in a row where he mentally admonishes himself for making yet another mistake. He's never one to be passive, and yet also never one to take action that only muddies up the waters in any given situation, whether it be politically or socially charged. This? Was certainly neither, but the same concept applied.
Or at least he thought it did. Desire rolls through Hubert, muted behind sharp eyes, and he knows that his face has reddened when his friend turns around. (Of course he turns around. Braiding his hair had been a tactical choice, in that the other would not be able to read his face all that well, forced to keep his gaze straight. Of course Ferdinand shatters that same advantage without care.)]
Yes. [He forces out the word before the moment lingers too long, not breaking his gaze from the other.] It is distraction, my friend, when neither of us can afford to be distracted.