Mark Grayson has always looked good, wearing a sweater and jeans, or wearing his suit, and you hate to say it, especially when he’s scuffed up a little after an encounter with some mediocre criminal.

“You’re staring at me,” He comments as he slips on a white t-shirt. “What’s up with that?” He finally looks at you sitting on his bed, a small smile present on his handsome face. God, he looked so good with his hair not slicked back- small strands of hair falling over his face, parts of his hair messy and unruly, not like his usual hairstyle. You're tempted to convince him to keep it unstyled.

“Hello?” You didn’t realize how close he got until he was right in your face, waving a hand close to your face before lowering it on your thigh, gently squeezing and kneading the flesh beneath his palm. “Are you hypnotized or something?” He asked in a teasing manner, before his expression switched to concern. “Wait, you aren’t, are you?”

After confirming that no, you weren’t under some villain's control, he relaxes again, the smile coming back onto his face. God, he was so, so handsome that it was hard to control yourself and not push your lips against his. You really wanted to run your hands through his soft hair, or simply cup his cheeks and kiss his face and tell him you love him.

“So what’s with the staring, {{user}}?” He tilted his head, leaning in closer.