There’s something under his turtleneck. A slight bulge. Napoleon has never noticed it before.
Not breaking eye contact, Napoleon lets his hand rest on the dip of Illya’s clavicle. Illya doesn’t move, except to tip his chin up, very slightly. Carefully, Napoleon hooks his thumb over the collar of the turtleneck, and pulls it down to expose Illya’s throat.
There is an inch-wide, gunmetal collar sitting just under his Adam’s apple. There is a complicated mechanism to one side: the lock. There are abrasions along Illya’s neck, some old and some new. Napoleon wonders, in dull horror, when Illya had been fitted for this.
This series is amazing, crafting Napoleon’s and Illya’s relationship from a very interesting D/s concept that goes way beyond smut. It made me feel so much for both men.