Drabbles

Texture

His lips were soft, like a cozy blanket or a favorite stuffed animal. He found the feeling of his lips to be comforting, gentle, inviting, and so much more. He couldn't help but press up against him and give him a tender smooch, holding his hands, that felt like leather, whether they were born this way or hardened over time, the texture brought him in. Leather had a strange aura around it, sometimes menacing, other times nostalgic, like the leather seats in your mother's old car. This leather intertwined with his fingers as he kissed back, he felt his face flush, and he held onto those leathery hands tighter.

His skin was smooth, like silk. If he could, he'd cup his cheeks in his hands and hold him for hours on end, or maybe kiss him on the forehead until nightfall. He would've inquired about his skincare routine had he not been convinced he was just born like that. He gave his neck a playful peck, giggling at the reaction. He couldn't help himself, he was too perfect not to have every square inch of his body loved on.

His chest was fuzzy, like peach fuzz. Peach fuzz was his favorite texture, the way it felt soft and smooth despite being covered in fuzz was a scientific miracle. Sadly, he was allergic to peaches, but that didn't stop him from rubbing his fingers against the skin for half an hour just so he could feel the beloved texture. He wasn't much different, he just wasn't edible, which is definitely a plus in this relationship. He could spend hours resting his head against his bare chest, drifting off to sleep after finally getting cozy, but he had his shirt on, and his mouth was the focus currently.

His arms were a combination of tender and leather. The outer arms were also fuzzy, but a lot more than peach fuzz. They were still great to lean on and hold, but who leans on their boyfriend's arms to rest? The inner arms shared the leathery texture his hands had, complete with a more well defined shape, it was interesting to trace a finger down them. If he was ever insecure about his wing arms, he made sure to reassure him that they were beautiful and unique, often unintentionally.

His hair was silky smooth as well, he loved to run his fingers through it. He was convinced his lover's jet black hair was only achievable through fancy conditioner, yet he was quickly disproven. It also smelled great, not that he was actively sniffing his hair, he found that weird, but it smelled like flowers. He must own a secret rose garden or something, considering how he manages to keep up that luxurious scent. He could ruffle it, play with it, and just admire it all day, had he not been so beautiful already.

God, his lips were soft. Comfortingly soft. He tasted like metal, ever kissed was laced with iron. He knew why, and he didn't judge, it was his lifestyle, why should he start a fight over it? He loved him, every inch of him, every texture and taste and smell.

He was head over heels in love, and thank the heavens his love was shared.