hydrocodon3

My Lucien was a boy with skin pale as candle wax, lips as red as bruised cherries, hair dark as night and crystalline eyes like a brewing storm. His voice was quiet yet commanding, and the way he looked at you made you hypnotized - it was as if he was stripping away all your superficial layers and gazing down at your soul. He had artist’s hands with long, slender fingers that would tangle in my hair whenever he whispered in my ear or kissed me. I still remember how his long eyelashes would flutter against my forehead, how he smelled like mint and musk, how he tasted like the gum he always used to chew to stop himself from biting his lip