[ there are bruises on that beautiful face -- his anger still simmering despite the fact that he has paid the perpetrators their due. they looked upon his face and hurt him, those lovely dark eyes and his lips -- they took him from graves and tortured him, and he has to swallow to fight down that anger.
he can feel it, the heat of his hands against his shirt, a desire stirring to life even if he knows he will do nothing against credence's will, not even to ask. he kisses him back, just as soft, just as tender, mindful of his cut lip. ]
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he can feel it, the heat of his hands against his shirt, a desire stirring to life even if he knows he will do nothing against credence's will, not even to ask. he kisses him back, just as soft, just as tender, mindful of his cut lip. ]
How much you feel about what?