Letters to his angel

They weren't so much letters as they were feelings, expressed through touch. Fang didn't need to lift a pen to paper, to write letters to his angel. They were short, simple letters exchanged through touching and feeling, which was why they were so precious to Fang. He would memorize each touch of their hands, each brush of their lips, a caress of a cheek. They were the most beautiful letters, and they were meant for only one person in the world. Nobody else could read their letters, no one could steal them, no one could take their cherished letters from them. Because they were written in invisible ink that only they could see. And that was the most fantastic part about his letters to Iggy, in Fang's own opinion. He could see them, touch them. For he was the letter itself. He would let him run his fingers through his hair, trace his cheekbones, draw lazy patterns on his chest. His own letters to Fang. And it was how he truly felt, that would come out in these letters, these touches. His blue, beautiful, hazy eyes would soften as his fingers danced across Fang's shoulders, ran down his arms, tickled his neck. He was a Shakespeare, in their own language.

Fang's fingers traced slow circles on Iggy's hip as they laid on the couch together. His way of assuring Iggy he was there, and would never leave. "Fang?" Iggy asked hesitantly, from where his head rested on Fang's chest. "Hm?" Fang slurred, eyes half lidded as he peeked down at the blind angel on his chest. "Can…Can I feel your face?" he asked hesitantly. Fang hummed and shifted so Iggy's hands were resting on his cheeks. They did this often, Iggy asking to feel Fang's features. Just to remind him that it was Fang who was there. And Fang agreed easily, readily. Iggy ran his fingers up his cheeks, down his nose, across his forehead. Cool fingertips circled Fang's eyes slowly, lingering for a second before moving to his chin and jaw. Fang's own eyes softened as Iggy traced a pattern on his lips, a very own, secret message meant for him and him only. He pressed Iggy's hand to his lips, whispering words into his skin.

As much as Fang loved writing letters to his angel, nothing, could beat reading them to him.

When Iggy had drifted off, asleep peacefully, only then did Fang stop his quiet whispering of sweet nothings into Iggy's wrist. He slipped off the couch quietly, and grabbed his camera. He was truly beautiful, on and off lens, covered in grime, bleeding, even in the face of danger. He was gorgeous, alluring, all the time. Silently, Fang took a picture of Iggy's sleeping face. He stared at the small screen affectionately. The light hit his face perfectly in the afternoon sun, his hair shining like a halo around him and his skin as white and unblemished as a porcelain doll. Golden eyelashes studded his cheeks. He looked up at his angelic muse. Quietly saving the photo and turning off his camera, he easily snuck his way back onto the couch. Immediately Iggy wrapped his arms around him, sighing happily and snuggling into his chest. Though Iggy was asleep, Fang continued to write.

It wasn't ink any normal person could see, and his paper was skin, but it was writing in the most intimate and real manner. His lips pressed to Iggy's forehead.

"I love you."

Yes, their was simply nothing better than reading letters to his angel.

A/N: I hoped you all enjoyed! I finally got off my butt and posted this! Reviews are splendid, and suggestions are even better!

I will write a FIggy story that will be posted herefor the first and fifth person to review! Submit your prompts and any details you'd like me to include in your review! I'll be doing these every chapter, and I won't pick the same person twice, so yours may get picked! Good luck!