"Okay, what do you want me to do?"
"Surprise me," said Sean.
"I like it better when you give me instructions," Elijah replied provocatively.
Sean only grinned and raised the Canon to his eye. "You're on your own this time, Elijah."
Elijah sat for a minute or so, lost in some pensée, and Sean started shooting.
"But I’m not ready yet," Elijah protested. "I'm still thinking."
"Love, your every expression is camera worthy."
"Well, now you can shoot me blushing," Elijah muttered, turning pick.
"I will." Sean kept snapping.
"Exactly what are you going to do with all these photos?"
"Print them out and wallpaper the bathroom with them," Sean promptly replied.
Elijah giggled. "Only half the bathroom, please. Leave the other half for me to paper with photos of you." Then he said, "All right, I'm ready."
He leaned forward, put his elbows on the table, and wrapped his arms around the lower half of his face. Then, using only his eyes, he put on a show, changing expressions almost faster than Sean could keep up, from laughter to sorrow, anger to amusement, fear to mischief. He ended with desire, bright blue darkening to a sultry hue.
"Shit." Sean set down the camera. This was no time to have a lens between them. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
Elijah raised his head; an impish smile curved his lips. "A good Empathicalist always knows," he said, and proceeded to demonstrate.