Porcelain; alabaster skin, smooth and flawless with just a hint of a five o’clock shadow. Despite unkempt whiskers littering his face, he remains angelic. Kind, wide hazel-green eyes telling to a softer side.
Luscious latissimus dorsi taper in elegantly to a nipped-in waist; juxtaposed. Wide, supportive shoulders; reinforced by provocative trapezius, like butrices, bulging and solemn. A lean, angular frame.
The framework, oh the bones. Clavicles jut out, tempting the onlooker. When lit just right you could swear they’d tear through the confining, albeit appealing, tempting shroud of skin they try so desperately to conceal themselves in. A square, mandible you could cut with a knife.
Always polished and dapper with just a hint of flamboyance, he commands the room when he debuts. A natural.
What’s more is his shrewd wit. With a tilt of his head and an innocent, dismissive laugh the words uttered from his lips send a chill. Not sure how to react. The dichotomy of his nature.