Wooded Path | Aran & Illya
"Going to spoil me, then?" he asked, tone teasing with the thick, unique Russian accent. Unique for the hint of something more to it. He glanced behind them and saw they'd be holding no one up. So he tugged Illya to a stop and moved to press against the larger man's front, hands in their soft leather gloves cupping his lover's face as he rose up onto his toes to place soft but teasingly lingering kisses upon Illya's lips.
"You're too perfect. You are going to spoil and ruin me. I'll be utterly impossible for anyone else to deal with." He said with mock seriousness. "You're stuck with me for life, you big ridiculous bear." Something that set butterflies into flight within his stomach to say. Because he could say that. Because they could now live a life on their own terms. Far more than before. And they could do so together. Up until he sat next to Illya's bed in the hospital and was told he would live? Aran had been sure they'd never see a life free of the Mafia and their control.