Thomas

Thomas


He has dark brown mahogany hair, cropped short and soft around the nape of his
neck. Thin pieces fall lightly in the warm sleepy eyes below his brow. A subtle
intelligence lurks in their depths. Casualy roving eyes that take everything in, leaving
nothing untouched.
A nose to suit the well angled face, complementing a strong jaw.
A thinly drawn mouth, always carrying a glimmer of a smirk. Corners turned up as a smile
plays across the soft feathery lips- though nothing humorous has been said.
Comfortable ears poke out beneath the slight curl of the hair that has been carelessly
swept back by a hand running through it; releasing the curl in it’s wake.
A sculptuous neck leads down to a lovers’ dream shoulders. Broad enough to fall asleep
in the hollow of his pale throat; but not to broad so as one could lose herself in their
depth.
A pillowed chest and strong arms that would keep the warmth in and the cold so far away
it would be only a memory.
A waist that allows the mind to run amuck with thoughts of what lies within its vicinity. A
washboard stomach it is not, but who could be foolish to use it for this purpose? Who
wouldn’t take full advantage of its ridges and curving ripples.
To sum up the next is the opinion of the viewer. To say how the endowments further
present themselves is up to whom is satisfied with what they find.
The legs taper from there, leading the eye down their muscled length to a pair of strongly
planted feet. Feet that run, skate, glide. They take their owner everywhere in his sexy
saunter. His unmistakable walk would be noticed even if it was only caught in a glimpse
of the moonlight.
His gestures are those of a fluid player; so complete your left wondering what it is the
result of. Seamless Hockey player, graceful dancer, or a practiced actor? Is it the fluid
movements of a sleek swimmer? Whatever the reason, the result has a beauty all unto its
own. Even when lifes’ fast pace takes a spin, the fluid unending movement continues in its
completeness.
There are no sharp angles or rough edges in the way he moves, as there are no
miscalculated gestures- except that smile and the eyes that shimmer secrets in their wells.
Oh, the smells, one could forget heaven and earth so completely in the pure crispy warm
smell of his skin. It’s like no other worldly smell. If love, honesty and life could smell, he
would be just that. The only thing that comes close to the way he smells would be the
crisp winter night when the moon and stars light the night up for all to see. When the
wind is still and the silence falls; a fresh snow has fallen over the earth leaving a blank
canvas for snow angels and soft crunching foot prints.
If one is so lucky to catch a glimpse of his scent on the wind as he glides by, that lucky
one can almost taste the utmost sweetness of his breath. So light is his breathing that if he
were to stand behind you in the darkness of the night, you would not here a whisp at his
intaking of air. You would however, fell the sweet caress of its warmth on your neck....