Tiptoeing I take his helmet off, letting it hit the floor with a loud bang, and the always neutral, hard face of a dark elf comes to view.
As I watch him as I pass my fingers over is black-ebony ink skin, drawing the lines of his body with my eyes and hands, his strong jaw, the always present frown that gives him an even scarier aura that his massive body full of scars already gave.
And yet like a trained hunting dog I knew that I could trust him with my life, even with the looks of a stalking predator that he had.
His white eyes look down towards me, shinning against his black skin, as he lets me do as I please when I start to go to his side and unbuckle his armor.
Piece.
By.
Piece.
Until there was only the thin clothing underneath, unable to hide the thick muscles that were the result of years of hard work and discipline, almost too perfect to be true, like a sculpture made by hand.
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