[ Rau cranes his neck fractionally into that fingertip touch, then watches evaluatingly while Gil handles the two jackets. But when it comes to the undershirt, Rau slips his hands under the bottom hem again, so that his still-gloved fingers slip along Gil's sides and arms as he pulls the layer up and off. One near-final hoorah for glove fabric on heated skin.
He catches Gil’s hands in his at the end of the gesture, intertwining their fingers as he leans back slightly; without the mask, there’s no hiding the way that Rau’s eyes sweep over Gil, openly appraising. They’re both habitually bundled up, Rau wants to look. And it doesn’t hurt to continue being mildly irksome about the gloves. ]
So impatient.
[ But the glint in Rau’s eyes and the flush and the faint perspiration and the heavy rise and fall of his chest rather undercut the rebuke. ]
no subject
He catches Gil’s hands in his at the end of the gesture, intertwining their fingers as he leans back slightly; without the mask, there’s no hiding the way that Rau’s eyes sweep over Gil, openly appraising. They’re both habitually bundled up, Rau wants to look. And it doesn’t hurt to continue being mildly irksome about the gloves. ]
So impatient.
[ But the glint in Rau’s eyes and the flush and the faint perspiration and the heavy rise and fall of his chest rather undercut the rebuke. ]