im sad and craving praises ˚ʚ
327 words
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Every canvas that found itself a residence of your flat, confine designs of random art junctures. Mel grew a sense of grant when working on her pieces. Not concerned if she was good or not, you loved seeing her eyes droop as a brush brought breath to whatever entertained her wonder.
"You ever gonna paint me?" your hands took her waist, dewing your lips, small kisses amongst her collarbone, eventually falling at her right. Deciphering on the sheet whether a bird or form of abstract stood tall on the canvas was a debate.
"I'm no Da Vinci, I wouldn't do you justice" she spoke, a feeble peck on your nose, running silence and subtle breathing. You appear a weary smile.
"I rather your perception than his perfect", your voice holding a truth, kissing her warm shoulders attiring a damp-seaweed tone strap that droops a casual rest with a distinctively placed set of ruffles.
"You look beautiful right now" a whisper from you, now addressing her cleavage. "Thank you, baby" Mel willed, her head falling on yours as you both caress visually her painting. "It's a butterfly". You familiarise the shapes, eyes structuring her claim, nodding. "I can't precisely paint you, but I can symbolize" She turned her full body, you're trapped between soft fabric and thighs.
A kiss placed like a feather on the depth of your forehead, a fit grip on your back, her iris of nutty diary kissing yours. Temples together "Like a butterfly, your surface holds charm and beauty and my girl, every layer you let me on, I will paint a crappy moon and I will raise a sunset for you y/n", she hushed, spacing your own butterflies a soft stomach to dispute. ".. let's drift into that sunset and abandon everyone," she deluded. Your urge to escape pounces an off-guard kiss of passion and agreement, returning to the widened frame of her features "just us and the sun." you affirm.
