Work Text:
You stare at the long, slender extent of Fushiguro's fingers, wrapped around the ceramic coffee mug that Gojo-sensei got for his birthday last year. His nails were neatly trimmed, and it looked like he took care of his hands really well, considering that they look more feminine than yours.
Well-defined knuckles, delicate fingertips, and a slim wrist — your eyes explored each line and curve that drew those perfections into life. A flushing color crosses the expanse of your cheeks as you notice the swelling veins on them.
It was all until his hand moved to set the mug down the table when you realized you weren’t being discreet in your gawking. He calls out your name in a calm, neutral tone.
You must have looked crazy, you think to yourself.
“Yeah?” You nervously respond.
“What’s wrong?” His eyelashes curiously fluttered.
“Nothing. Just thought your hands are pretty.” You averted your gaze away, glancing at the earthy color of your beverage instead. You take a sharp inhale, the wisp of coffee bringing a spark of pleasantness for a moment.
“Really?” He asked, stretching his hand across. “I thought they were just normal.”
You hold out your own hand next to his. “No. They’re a lot more beautiful than just normal.”
“Are you talking about your own hands?” He teasingly smiles.
A pout protrudes from your lips. “Mine are rather unattractive, not like yours.”
He stays quiet for a while before gently taking grasp of your fingers on top of his palm, glancing at them momentarily before speaking, “I think they are beautiful though.”
“What.”
He brings his lips to the edge of your knuckles, pressing a tender peck, keen eyes steadily gazing into yours.
“You heard me.” He mutters to your skin, planting another smooch, this time, a bit more quick, trailing kisses to the end of your fingertips.
“Yeah, I did.” You murmur, flustered, covering your eyes with your other hand.
Once he takes a good look of your expression, a sheepish smile graces those rosy lips of his. “Good.”