Her finger traced precisely and carefully across his jaw line, past the tiny short hairs that were there since the last time he shaved and beneath his freckles. She smiled at him as she lay bellow him, observing each of his facial constructs and then into his eyes. Deep into his eyes, she noticed the greyness and blueness of his iris.
No attention was made to his soul, only to his body.
A hand gently went down a naturally toned chest and stomach. He looked at him, then caressed his hair, complimenting it before nuzzling against his soft skin. Legs tangled, he held him close, taking in his smell.
No attention was made to his soul, only to his body.
Her eyes wandered across his face as he waited patiently to go into another class. He was standing next to his friends, and she looked at his lips, his nose, his arms and his eyes. She looked and he then looked back to find her smiling at him and blushing slightly.
No attention was made to his soul, only to the body that he felt so alone in; nobody bothering to connect to him on a more special level other than that of a bodily, sexual level. To blush, to look at, to say no words of interest, no more.
Life is lonely for the beautiful, for the outcasts, for the objects victim to the eyes and fantasises of others.
No attention was made to his soul, only to his body.
A hand gently went down a naturally toned chest and stomach. He looked at him, then caressed his hair, complimenting it before nuzzling against his soft skin. Legs tangled, he held him close, taking in his smell.
No attention was made to his soul, only to his body.
Her eyes wandered across his face as he waited patiently to go into another class. He was standing next to his friends, and she looked at his lips, his nose, his arms and his eyes. She looked and he then looked back to find her smiling at him and blushing slightly.
No attention was made to his soul, only to the body that he felt so alone in; nobody bothering to connect to him on a more special level other than that of a bodily, sexual level. To blush, to look at, to say no words of interest, no more.
Life is lonely for the beautiful, for the outcasts, for the objects victim to the eyes and fantasises of others.
