"baby," he comes up to you from behind when you're sitting near the mirror and contouring your nose with a thin brush. he was always ready faster than you. so, he would just go around the house, wait for you, or come up to bother you with something or help you with make up or clothes. so he nuzzles the top of your head again, kissing and closing his eyes. his hands tightly grip the back of the chair, "you're a beauty," he sighs and kisses you again, but in your ear. after all, he can't be mad at you. he finds you incredibly attractive when you contour your cheekbones with such precision, apply a highlighter, or concealer.

he pulls himself forward, putting his hand on your shoulder and squeezing lightly, as if doing a massage. his hand quickly finds tube of contouring make up from anastasia beverly hills, which he recently bought for you at your request. when you go shopping for cosmetics, he can't resist you even more when you apply lipstick swatches on his wrist with such care and examine, choose. he doesn't understand anything about shades himself, but he realized a long time ago: 02 and 03 shades differ radically, he just doesn't understand anything.

he takes the tube, examines it by opening it and sniffing it. it looks like a big brown lipstick, he thinks.

"and what is this for?" he asks with sincere interest, looking into your eyes through the mirror.