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Admiration is simple when it comes to Sylus.
The eyes of others always linger on him, most out of fear of his immense power and influence, but some in silent appraisal. His beauty is undeniable; the sharp cut of his jaw, the hypnotic allure of his crimson eyes—those pink lips, often quirked up into a smirk that inspires thoughts of heated kisses or praise whispered in that velvety voice.
There is much to appreciate, but of all of his qualities there is one thing that always draws your attention.
His nose.
It’s silly—absolutely baffling, and yet you always find your gaze wandering to it, especially when his profile is on full display. You map the curve of his prominent bridge all the way to the sharp tip of his nose, completely transfixed. The desire to trace the shape of it always resurfaces, making your fingers twitch at your side.
Sylus would let you if you asked. Hell, he’d probably delight in it, flashing you that sly smile that makes you feel weaker than you’d ever care to admit. The teasing would be incessant—Sylus already understood his effect on you, to have another weapon in his endless arsenal would devastate your defenses; make it easier for him to disarm you in moments when he wanted you to unravel for him.
That’s why you’re glad he’s asleep. This would be embarrassing otherwise.
Your gaze wanders over his sleeping figure, still infuriatingly handsome despite being lost to the waking world. Silver strands sweep across Sylus’s forehead, nearly obscuring his eyes. His long, dark lashes rest against his cheek, making him look serene, gentle.
It’s a rare thing to see Sylus so content, but this is an image meant only for you, just like the many others—the soft smile that makes him look boyish, and blood-red eyes shining with affection instead of their usual disinterest.
You reach out, mindful of keeping your touch featherlight as you caress his jaw, skim soft fingers across his lips. Slowly, you inch up to the tip of his nose, marveling at his distinct features as if he is a beloved piece crafted by a master sculptor.
Goodness, you love his nose.
“Are you having fun, sweetie?”
Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest at the unexpected sound of Sylus’s drowsy voice. A curse passes your lips just as his eyes flutter open, instantly meeting your gaze. He squints, but doesn’t glower despite the morning light that pours through the parted curtains and bathes the room in a golden glow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His eyes hold yours for a second longer, wholly unconvinced by your attempt at evasion, before shifting to the finger pressed to his nose. A surprised chuckle sounds in the back of his throat—amused or perplexed, it’s too difficult to tell with how loud your heartbeat is pounding in your ears.
You move to pull your hand away, but Sylus is quicker. He catches your wrist, bringing your hand down to his lips to press a tender kiss to your palm.
“Don’t run away,” Sylus whispers as he laces his fingers with yours. “If you’re enjoying something, you should indulge to your heart's content.”
He uses his other hand to catch you around the waist, guiding you closer to him until your body blankets his. It’s a strategic move on his part, you think, bringing you close enough to feel the heat that radiates off of him like a furnace. Sylus knows how easily you melt into him, as if your body craves his essence to the point of desperation.
“I am curious about what caught your attention this early,” he murmurs between your fingers, making you shudder. “You were staring so intently.”
Your mind jumps between semi-believable excuses and poorly framed deflections, but the playful glint in his eyes paired with the gentle caress of his lips turns your brain to mush.
“Your…nose,” you confess.
The admission takes Sylus by surprise. It’s evident in the way he blinks up at you, carefully considering your answer for a moment that feels overlong, before raising a gray brow.
“My nose,” Sylus repeats. The hint of disbelief is not lost on you, nor is the sudden flush of pink that colors his cheeks. “You…always find a way to surprise me, kitten.”
The anxiety that plagued you only seconds before slowly fades, making way for a comforting warmth that settles in your chest. It’s clear no one has ever complimented this part of him, be it out of fear or coyness, no soul could ever say. All you know for certain is that you like being the first—the one to shower him in affection he has been deprived of; to lift the cruel mask he confidently wears and see the man with too much heart beneath.
“Good.” You lean forward and gently kiss the tip of his nose. Languidly, you trail higher, peppering his bridge with phantom kisses until you meet the space between his brows. “I need to keep you on your toes.”
A breathless laugh sounds below you, drawing your attention to the eager smile that plays at Sylus’s lips— an image meant only for you. Callous fingers cradle your jaw, drawing you near until you feel his breath mingling with yours.
“Yes, you do…” The soft flesh of his bottom lip teases yours as Sylus moves to close the gap between you. “And I’ll revel in every moment, sweetie.”