caressing his face like he is something to behold and not feared… his shackles are somewhat lowered in the time since you’ve stumbled across his estate so sometimes he allows you to just look. doesn’t protest when you clamber into his lap and the book he’d been reading falls shut on the accompanying side table. he lets your fingers map across the curve of his cheek, run down the line of his jaw, tap the tip of his nose… gives you a little smile when you giggle after, too.
sometimes…. if he’s feeling particularly nice, he’ll let his lips part when curious hands falter and your expression becomes a little flustered despite the curiosity. his thumbs draw cold circles into the sliver of skin between your shirt and bottoms as if to say go on, his gaze half lidded when your interest gets the best of your fear ,,,
you poke and prod and feel for what seems like hours. delicately running your thumbs over sharp and wet edges. it feels like petting through the jaw of a creature much bigger than you, acutely aware of the sharp gaze trained on you despite his lax posture. you press down on his tongue and he pinches your side playfully. makes to snap his jaw shut and bears his teeth in a way similar to a spoiled cat. laughs when you jump and push at his shoulder like he can’t hear the way your heartbeat lurches with the sharp sting of brief fear.