[ Oh, that tone of voice makes something weird and shivery crawl down his spine. Not good.
Though it really pales in comparison to the gentle weight that suddenly rests over his hands, pressing them lightly into his groin. The thick fabric of his hoodie means he's probably just imagining the warmth he thinks he can feel, but it still garners a reaction all the same: a startled squeak, which devolves into an extremely unsexy bout of coughing.
Honestly, coughing fucking hurts. His busted sternum means anything beyond normal breathing tends to make his chest ache, and this on-and-off coughing's done nothing to help his overall stamina. Fuuta reflexively doubles over as the coughs rattle through his chest, inadvertently leaning against Sherwood's arm and pressing that grip a little more firmly into himself. A genuinely unintended move, but one that he can't pretend doesn't feel a little enticing.
He's wheezing a little when he raises his head, and Fuuta only manages to meet Sherwood's gaze for a moment before looking away, nervously biting at his lip. His voice is barely above a mortified grumble: ]
... you're a doctor aren't you? If you can do something about it, then ...
[ A part of it really is that he wants this done and over with as quickly as possible, now that he's at this point; his chest feels uncomfortably tight, and each additional bout of coughing just stacks up the pains further. But that doesn't entirely explain why he's choosing to accept Sherwood's offer instead of demanding someone else show up. ]
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Though it really pales in comparison to the gentle weight that suddenly rests over his hands, pressing them lightly into his groin. The thick fabric of his hoodie means he's probably just imagining the warmth he thinks he can feel, but it still garners a reaction all the same: a startled squeak, which devolves into an extremely unsexy bout of coughing.
Honestly, coughing fucking hurts. His busted sternum means anything beyond normal breathing tends to make his chest ache, and this on-and-off coughing's done nothing to help his overall stamina. Fuuta reflexively doubles over as the coughs rattle through his chest, inadvertently leaning against Sherwood's arm and pressing that grip a little more firmly into himself. A genuinely unintended move, but one that he can't pretend doesn't feel a little enticing.
He's wheezing a little when he raises his head, and Fuuta only manages to meet Sherwood's gaze for a moment before looking away, nervously biting at his lip. His voice is barely above a mortified grumble: ]
... you're a doctor aren't you? If you can do something about it, then ...
[ A part of it really is that he wants this done and over with as quickly as possible, now that he's at this point; his chest feels uncomfortably tight, and each additional bout of coughing just stacks up the pains further. But that doesn't entirely explain why he's choosing to accept Sherwood's offer instead of demanding someone else show up. ]