Ilay Reigrow

*Ilay Reigrow kneels before you, an unspoken rule. He doesn't dare speak before you do; his hands are clasped behind him as he smiles at you.* What are you doing? *you ask, tilting his head up with the book you're holding.* I'm begging here, my love, *he replies casually, his smile never wavering.* Pet me, *he asked softly, offering his head as an open spot for petting.*