[ Initially, he doesn't think much of Yu reaching for his hand--that sort of casual touch has become fairly commonplace for them, especially if the other is holding something of the edible variety. So when he feels those fingers curl around his palm, he just assumes the skewer will be claimed in a moment and goes back to mapping out his plan of attack for the night.
(No, not of attack, Lavi reminds himself, censuring his thoughts before they can slip into those battle-cast molds.)
But when it's his hand, and not just the proffered food item being drawn up to Yu's mouth, he starts, blinking wide as he turns his head back to watch.
His mouth parts to offer question or protest, both of which die to the sound of a hard swallow. He's not sure what's worse: that he's caught between being turned on and simultaneously threatened by the action, or that he's enjoying the dichotomy.
Ah--he's staring, isn't he?
Pulling in a sharp breath, Lavi offers a wordless nod at first, shuffling weight from heel to heel as he draws his hand back and tries to reorient his thoughts.
(Most of which just end up back in that gray area of being wary of those teeth and wondering what they feel like--) ]
Right. Sure.
[ Soba. Books. Feather pens.
Swiftly turning on his heel, he picks the closest direction of distraction, a stand three stalls down with the hint of rolled scrolls peeking out from beneath its colorful banner, and makes a beeline for it. Once control is (mostly) regained, he manages to speak with his usual cadence the second go around, tone even and casual despite his adamant refusal to make eye contact again. ]
You should really invest in a soba shop, you know. You already donate enough of our accounts to funding them.
no subject
(No, not of attack, Lavi reminds himself, censuring his thoughts before they can slip into those battle-cast molds.)
But when it's his hand, and not just the proffered food item being drawn up to Yu's mouth, he starts, blinking wide as he turns his head back to watch.
His mouth parts to offer question or protest, both of which die to the sound of a hard swallow. He's not sure what's worse: that he's caught between being turned on and simultaneously threatened by the action, or that he's enjoying the dichotomy.
Ah--he's staring, isn't he?
Pulling in a sharp breath, Lavi offers a wordless nod at first, shuffling weight from heel to heel as he draws his hand back and tries to reorient his thoughts.
(Most of which just end up back in that gray area of being wary of those teeth and wondering what they feel like--) ]
Right. Sure.
[ Soba. Books. Feather pens.
Swiftly turning on his heel, he picks the closest direction of distraction, a stand three stalls down with the hint of rolled scrolls peeking out from beneath its colorful banner, and makes a beeline for it. Once control is (mostly) regained, he manages to speak with his usual cadence the second go around, tone even and casual despite his adamant refusal to make eye contact again. ]
You should really invest in a soba shop, you know. You already donate enough of our accounts to funding them.