Maybe A Pervert But Not Lecher

Oriana had drifted into slumber while nestled in the comfort of their bed. Her body, still in the process of full recovery, demanded the extra rest, and it was only beneficial for her well-being. Arlan chose not to rouse her from her peaceful repose, opting instead to gaze upon her serene countenance.

His fingers idly toyed with the stray strands of her hair, their unique musky scent wafting gently to his nostrils. The sensation of her soft, silky locks entwined around his fingertips left him marveling at the exquisite texture of her hair. It was a wonder how someone's hair could be so enchanting.

A memory flashed across his mind – the day they had first crossed paths in the forest. Her long hair had been the foremost feature etched into his memory, those lustrous, reddish-blond tresses glistening in the brilliant sunlight as they danced in the wind while she ran away from him.