( he’s never liked compliments. when he was younger, the comments about his fair skin and hair had been barbed with anger and distaste. it’s weird to adore them now; to get drunk off the praise and admiration dice has for him. he’s retrained himself to accept it — to take everything dice has for face value.
he smiles down at the faded outline and then traces another layer, the line growing darker. )
You ought to know I’m not artist... ( he leans down to kiss dice’s abs, smooth, as the pen temporarily falls to the sheets. he’s very intent on worshiping dice’s body right now. )
no subject
he smiles down at the faded outline and then traces another layer, the line growing darker. )
You ought to know I’m not artist... ( he leans down to kiss dice’s abs, smooth, as the pen temporarily falls to the sheets. he’s very intent on worshiping dice’s body right now. )