His skin tingled in the wake of Isaev's touch, the brush of light fingertips across his tattoos.
"I'd like that," he said, after a moment.
He dropped his gaze to Ilarion's chest, where the weight of the grey wool uniform hid all but the suggestion of lean, graceful muscle, never mind the tattoo. Taras tried to imagine it healed, without the flush of inflamed skin, onyx on pure ivory, the watchful eyes accentuating the subtle sculpt of Isaev's build.
"I remember, but it's not the same as seeing it in person."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:34 pm (UTC)His skin tingled in the wake of Isaev's touch, the brush of light fingertips across his tattoos.
"I'd like that," he said, after a moment.
He dropped his gaze to Ilarion's chest, where the weight of the grey wool uniform hid all but the suggestion of lean, graceful muscle, never mind the tattoo. Taras tried to imagine it healed, without the flush of inflamed skin, onyx on pure ivory, the watchful eyes accentuating the subtle sculpt of Isaev's build.
"I remember, but it's not the same as seeing it in person."
Taras took in a slow breath.
He glanced up, and met Isaev's eyes.
"Besides...Anya hasn't seen it yet, da?"