#head dizzy

how can such an artist be a work of art himself? those amethyst eyes drowning you in their depths. that nose, like it was carved by michelangelo himself. and those lips—oh, those lips—pink like cherries, shining like a licked lollipop, tasting as sweet as one too.

a beauty so delicate, like a greek statue you’re too afraid to touch. and yet here he was, all flushed, beads of sweat on his skin from a long, long night.

caged beneath him, you lay there, eyes scanning his face, admiring every inch. you lift your hand to gently trace his cheek, your finger gliding up the bridge of his nose, stopping just under his eye. he closes his eyes at the touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

“such a pretty boy, raf…” you whisper, your thumb slowly caress his cheek as you take in every detail of his face. “so sweet and delicate…” hand moving across his face, teasing. “might break you if im not careful now” you push your palm across his cheek, his head turning, giving him a gentle slap.

he whines, breath heavy, as his eyes open. he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand back to his cheek, nuzzling into your palm. his eyes momentarily closing before he looks at you again hazily

i giggle and look at him yeah i’ll be your flower, pretty boy!