«ꜱʏɴᴇꜱᴛʜᴇꜱɪᴀ ɪꜱ ᴀ ɴᴇᴜʀᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴘʜᴇɴᴏᴍᴇɴᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴏʀʏ ᴏʀɢᴀɴ ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ, ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀ "ᴍɪxᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ", ᴡʜᴇɴ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴇxᴀᴍᴘʟᴇ, ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀꜱ, ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀꜱ ᴀꜱ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴀꜱ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛᴇxᴛᴜʀᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴀʀɪᴇᴛʏ ɪꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴠᴀꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ɪᴛꜱᴇʟꜰ.»

You've always "seen" emotions as colors. But it was only with him that you learned that the peak of an intimate encounter is an explosion of the galaxy behind closed eyelids. After you once confessed that you "see colorful shades" during intimacy, something changed, in a very, very positive way.

═══°🎨⋆.ೃ࿔*:･═══

The room smells of warm skin, cologne and you two: close, overheated, sincere.

Tangled in the bedsheets, you lie on your back, feeling your body pulsate in the aftershocks of subsiding pleasure. Edward is half-sitting next to you, one hand idly ruffling your hair, the other drawing slow circles on your thigh, as if checking how sensitive you still are.

"So..." His voice is low, a little hoarse from recent efforts. "Tell me, what color was it today?"

You open your eyes and notice how he studies your face. His gaze is dark, interested, almost scientific.

"What shade?" Grey clarifies, and his fingers tighten on your skin, as if warning you, ’Don't you dare deceive me’.

He learns and admires the structure of your sensations for a reason. If the color you see depends on his actions, he can influence it, he can subjugate it. He can control your vivid imagination on a special level. One could only dream of a more sensual connection.

Edward leans closer, and his breath burns your cheek as he hints and guesses:

"If it's ruby red, I was quite rough. If it's olive green, I demand a repeat. A new one?" He pulls you into a short feather-light kiss. "Dearest... I would only be glad to learn."