Sep. 1st, 2009

cynaravurzyn: sleeping on a plane (b/w plane sleeping)
Illya looked, as he pulled back from the kiss, at Napoleon. His partner, consummate hedonist, had closed his eyes. Illya could contemplate which Renaissance master could have limned the dark lashes and smooth skin best while he was on his plane. Napoleon opened his eyes. Illya turned, not quite fast enough to avoid consideration.

"Tovarisch?"

Illya stopped. His reactions to his partner were why he was leaving. Then Napoleon's hand was on his shoulder, and he permitted himself to be turned.

Napoleon looked at Illya's face from several angles. He checked his eyes. He stroked Illya's hair. Spoke softly, "Stay."

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cynaravurzyn

April 2011

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