Moulin watched as the powerful man in front of him buttons his clothes.
Those rough fingers that had been tainted by blood and had cruelly held the man's weapon with utmost skill were gentle as it carefully slips each button into the buttonholes of Moulin's clothes. Their hair was mostly dry after an hour of bathing. There was reluctance in Moulin's eyes as he removed himself from the cool waters of the spring. A slight pout appeared on his mouth and Hadrian chuckled amusingly as he moved to dress the youth by himself. When he was slipping the sleeves on Moulin's arms, his eyes briefly narrowed at reddish marks on Moulin's left arm. The cause of his beloved's pain. Moulin had noticed the look and he strives to comfort Hadrian with a reassuring smile.
Recalling it, Moulin furrows his brows and dismissed his thoughts. His eyes carefully tracing every angle and curve on the man's perfect face.
