Whispers of a Crying Angel

Head resting on a navy pillow, Setsuya closed his eyes and sighed. One hand rests idly on his blue sheets, but the other rest atop Amaya's. Opening his golden eyes, Setsuya glanced at her longingly.

He craved to stroke her milkyskin with the pad of his thumb, to brush pass her light lashes and trace the curve of her full cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted and he could just see a trace of a pink tongue. He wondered, if he teased her lips, would the tip brush against his finger. If he pressed his lips with hers, would they appear full and red? Sucking in a breath, his eyes moved lower. The gaze grew darker as he glimpsed the flesh of her neck and the hint of collar to the rise and fall of her full chest. His eyes traced the plane of her stomach and the curve of her hip covered by small shorts, down to the supple skin of her slender and naked legs.

A rustle of skin moving against the soft sheets filtered through the room as Amaya shifted in her sleep. Setsuya stilled. Body tense, he waited until she settled before freeing a breath of air. Satisfied, his eyes fell shut once again and he slept.

End Part Four