Illya was broken out of his reverie by Napoleon’s voice. His cheeks actually turned pink and he shook his head. “Ah, no... of course not.”
After pulling back the covers, he got into bed and turned to his bedmate. It was strange to see his hair naturally instead of slicked back with pomade. Illya tried to settle down, even as he laid on his side, one hand on his stomach. “What are you reading?”