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Ariel is air and dew.
Air and dew mashed together by magic into limbs, skin, hair, feathers.
He should not by any logic be tangible or visible, and he can be intangible or invisible, if he wants to. His skin should not by any logic feel this soft and smooth and his pupil-less eyes should not be this big and expressive.
And yet his eyelashes flutter and lower, partially hiding those impossible white irises as Prospero touches his cheek and nape. He feels cool to the touch, which is, for once, logical, as he is always a little colder than the air sorrounding him when he is not feeling particularly intense emotions.
Emotions he shouldn't even feel, as he is merely made of air and magic.
And yet Prospero's hand goes through his hair (his soft, soft hair) and Ariel's eyes fall closed, the markings around them more visible, easier to examine this way, and his skin grows just a little warmer.
He is illogically beautiful, with his big eyes, thin body, eternally tousled dark blue hair and lighter blue skin. He nearly vibrates at the caresses and digs his face in Prospero' neck, rubbing it with his cheek.
Prospero swallows hard.
Gentle, moody, innocent Ariel, with his cool breath and long limbs, abandoning himself like this to his temporary master for just these short moments, just for the sake of receiving affection.
Curious, tricksy, delicate Ariel, always soft-spoken and asking questions.
Prospero sighs and touches the small blue feathers on his shoulders, then one of the two big, more colourful ones on his shoulderblades, identical to the two even bigger ones on his ankles.
Ariel.
Sweet, sweet Ariel, purring against his collarbone and moving his long, pointy fingers through his master's hair.
Prospero feels him smile that small smile of his and hears him mumble something about enjoying grooming just as he feels his heart, stomach and soul drop.
Ariel is made of air and dew, mashed together by magic into illusory flesh.
Prospero shouldn't by any logic be able to fall for an airy spirit.