alexithee
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"Perpetua looked infinitely better on his knees. He was ethereal, the image of perfection, even in his suffering, like Jesus himself. All it took was one look at him for you to consider ditching the novel in your hands entirely to hold him instead.
Oh, how precious that longing gaze would look cupped between your hands. His form gleamed in the golden light of the evening sun pouring in through the windows, and you wondered how warm his skin would be against your own. Your heart skipped a beat as you imagined it, and it took everything you had to keep your hands to yourself.
Evidently, Perpetua found your self-restraint disappointing."