( Ish has called him pretty before, but here they are, a little reversed - Ish on the backfoot, Hwylryn pressing forward, quite conscious of their positions, and indulging with pleasure.

His own cheeks are warm, but nowhere as near as warm as his heart. )

Uh-uh. You just don't know how gorgeous you are.

( And the way he says gorgeous isn't so much how one may call a woman gorgeous, or even a Hwylryn - he says gorgeous like the sea and sky are gorgeous; gorgeous, the way a hurricane or riptide is.

He shifts - Ish has finally come to an agreement with his own grip on Hwylryn, and so Hwylryn moves more comfortably within it, fitting his body against the shapes of Ish's own, pooling against him like a perfect fit. )

Pure and unrefined - raw and full of expression. As lovely to marvel at as the sky and seas. ( A mix of personality and appearance somewhere in there - and in the same way that perhaps Ish can't translate what he means from his native tongue, this is Hwylryn's own language without clean definition. ) It's okay if you can't find the words, because - I think - sometimes, a thing is so wonderful you lose them on your tongue. And I...

( A little kiss - chaste, despite how he proceeds: )

... am very happy to get lost on your tongue.

( hehe )