Ilarion frowned, regarding Taras for a moment, then looking down at his own chest.

Oleksei's callused fingers raised strange sensations on his skin, skimming over it the way he was.

"Yes," he said, belatedly. "It does feel..."

He checked himself.

"It does look good."

Lasha closed his eyes briefly, trying to gather his sobriety.

Taras's hand stilled on his breast, but did not depart.

What was that charge, like a riffle of current? Was it...illicit?

He exhaled, slowly, his chest rising and pressing slightly into Oleksei's palm when it fell.

"Well done," he murmured. "Well done. You please me, Taras."