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The underside of Caduceus’ wrist was incredibly soft.
Absentmindedly, Caleb ran his thumb over it, feeling the velvet over blue veins, barely visible underneath.
He dared not look up from where his other hand traced symbols in the air over their interlocked fingers. He's sure he surprised the firbolg. He'd scooped his hand up without any warning. Caleb silently kicks himself.
It was for the spell. For the impending conflict. Ever since their troubles with the Succubi Caleb knew better than to think even the slightest whiff of sulfur would lead anywhere good. And that was just the cherry on top of the whole situation. They were in a tomb made of nightmares.
The terror gnawing at the back of his mind had nothing to do with his sudden urge for spell casting. Surely.
His thumb rolled over the soft skin again, soothing. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Caduceus was watching him. Don’t look. Don’t look.
It’s so dark. There’s hardly anything to see besides Caduceus. They’re the only two who need his little motes of light. So they’re bobbing and circling around them, slow, but occasionally erratic. Dancing to the thumping of Caleb’s rapid heartbeat.
A minute passes and he completes his incantations. His grip squeezes one last time before he lets Caduceus go. His nerves feel a little more settled. He thinks he was able to successfully hide his ulterior motive. At least, Caduceus seems to have shifted their attention to more pressing concerns. Caleb tries not to feel disappointed.
Sheisse.