[ if anyone were to think his performance only begins at the first pluck of a lyre string, they would be dead wrong. he is a man who knows himself and his assets; it's clear in the way he puts on a show for her when he meanders about the small room, shame a burden the gods saw fit to relieve him of.
like a true artist, olivia cannot help but admire his beauty, the almost ethereal way his form cuts an image so soft yet so imposing still. she delights in the curvature of his muscles, how they tense and flex with every little movement he makes. her eyes make a trail over his form that she has indulged in many times before, yet has still never grown tired of. by the time he finally reclaims a spot on the bed by her feet, she has propped herself up on an elbow, laying on her side with the sheet draped over her figure just enough to keep as decent as he is, but in her eyes is a look much appreciative, and between her teeth is a lower lip she'd caught to keep less proper thoughts to herself. ]
Is there anything about you I can dislike? [ she muses in the same teasing lilt he takes on. ] If there is, I haven't found it yet, and I doubt I will this morning.
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like a true artist, olivia cannot help but admire his beauty, the almost ethereal way his form cuts an image so soft yet so imposing still. she delights in the curvature of his muscles, how they tense and flex with every little movement he makes. her eyes make a trail over his form that she has indulged in many times before, yet has still never grown tired of. by the time he finally reclaims a spot on the bed by her feet, she has propped herself up on an elbow, laying on her side with the sheet draped over her figure just enough to keep as decent as he is, but in her eyes is a look much appreciative, and between her teeth is a lower lip she'd caught to keep less proper thoughts to herself. ]
Is there anything about you I can dislike? [ she muses in the same teasing lilt he takes on. ] If there is, I haven't found it yet, and I doubt I will this morning.