ARTHUR'S EYES - USUK
Alfred loved every single bit of Arthur; yet his favorite part of the Briton was his eyes. They were a dusty, thoughtful green, like mist in the forest and fog above a turquoise lake, but also a piercing, knowledgeable green, green that could see into your soul and tear it apart into little pieces.
Before, Alfred had thought Arthur was a bit hard to read at times, but now he could see the Englishman's mood via the twitch of a lip, the crease of an eyebrow. But the eyes showed, though only to a skilled looker.
When Arthur was sad, his eyes turned dull and hollowed, like there was something eating away at him from the inside. When he was mad, his eyes were piercing and full of a fierce green fire, ready to burn anything and everything in his way. When Arthur was lustful, his eyes clouded over with desire and they glowed with a strange intensity that never failed to incense Alfred. Furious lovemaking always ensued.
But Alfred loved it most when Arthur was happy. His lips turned up at the corners, those incredibly thick eyebrows lifted slightly, and the corners of his eyes were creased. But his eyes… The green was brilliant and shining, like a forest covered in fresh morning dew. If Alfred looked deep and long enough, he could almost hear the birds' joyful singing, the river's delirious leaping, and everything in between.
Arthur's eyes were a haven for Alfred's soul. They soothed him when he was angry, calmed him when he was stressed, and made his soul burst into flames with their intensity and lust.
But what Alfred adored most was the love in his emerald eyes.