Flins was surrounded by treasure every day—gemstones, rare metals, glittering artifacts unearthed from caverns and ruins. But none of it held him quite the way you did. To him, your eyes were the most precious gems in existence. He said it often, sometimes with that playful lilt to his voice, sometimes with the kind of sincerity that made your chest tighten. “The most beautiful gems I’ve ever seen,” he’d murmur while his large hands framed your face, thumbs brushing over your skin as though you were the most fragile treasure he’d ever been entrusted with.

It became a silent ritual between you. Whenever he leaned in, whenever the space between you grew smaller, his gaze never faltered. He never looked away, never rushed. It wasn’t about impatience or hunger—it was about you. About making sure you were there with him, about ensuring he read every flicker of emotion in your eyes. Consent, comfort, love—it was all found in the way you looked back at him.

The kisses themselves were unhurried, warm, and steady. The kind that melted the world away. His lips might be soft but his presence was grounding, and through it all, his gaze remained locked with yours. Even when you felt shy and tried to look down, his touch—gentle, reassuring—would coax your eyes back up, reminding you silently that this was what he cherished most.

Sometimes, he’d pull back only slightly, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still drinking you in like they were starlight caught in crystal. Other times, he would kiss you deeper, his hand tilting your chin ever so carefully, but never once breaking the connection of your gaze. For him, it wasn’t only romance—it was reverence.

Flins might have been a man of strength, a man who knew the weight of battles and treasures alike, but with you, his greatest weakness was simple: your eyes. No gem could rival them, no discovery could ever tempt him more. And so, every kiss began and ended with them—the jewels he vowed he’d never stop admiring.