The Breathless Affair
A Turkish bath of all places...
Who would seriously think of going there? But that was where they had ended up. Napoleon had suggested it when they had found themselves dripping wet and freezing cold after that incident in the park. They needed a place to get warm again and Napoleon needed a place to calm down after nearly drowning.
He had pretended to be unconscious but he had heard the THRUSH head of department ordering his underlings to throw him in the lake. He had then activated his distress signal and Illya had arrived just in time.
The only problem was that he couldn't help Illya because he was tied up and in the ensuing fight he was kicked into the water more or less accidentally.
It had been a horrible experience. He had been able to take one last breath, not really a deep one, then his shoes and his soaked suit had pulled him down.
He was holding his breath, not knowing how long he could do it; not knowing how long it would take Illya to deal with the THRUSH goons. It was okay for a while, but after a minute or so he was getting very uncomfortable. What if Illya couldn't subdue them? He couldn't hold his breath forever—in fact he felt like giving up the fight right now. 'No, hold out a little longer!' he told himself but his lungs started to cramp and his chest was heaving, trying to force him to exhale. Napoleon's face was contorted as he tried not to breathe for some more seconds. The urge to breathe out became overwhelming, though and he knew he was starting to panic.
And then Illya had been there, pulling him to the surface. He had been quite shaken but of course he hadn't let that on to his partner.
Even before today's incident, water had never really been his friend. Sure, his agents' training had included all sorts of water sports, swimming, scuba diving, lifesaving and the like. And he had done well enough. But he had never been comfortable in the water. And that was not just because it made him look dishevelled, as some people might think. There had to be a deeper reason. He tried to think of something, but all he could come up with was an experience when he had been a little boy of seven. His father had decided it was time he learned to swim and had picked him up and dropped him in the pool. He had flailed about and cried and swallowed a lot of water but his dad had been merciless. Could that be it? No, he thought, that was ridiculous. He simply didn't like water, period.
Illya, on the other hand, swam like a fish and always made it look like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Whenever an underwater job had to be done, Illya volunteered for it (which was a good thing, Napoleon thought) and he seemed to like that, too. And when they were doing laps in the U.N.C.L.E. pool, which all agents were required to do regularly, Illya was always way ahead of him. On those occasions his friend also frequently practiced underwater swimming, something Napoleon hated. He would confine himself to watching then, and get nervous when Illya remained submerged for what seemed like ages.
After the exercise Illya always had this satisfied look on his face and Napoleon found that he envied him. There had to be something about it. If only he knew what it was.
He really wanted to find out and he was going to ask Illya what was so fascinating about being in the water, but not now. The job came first. He activated his communicator to report to Mr. Waverly.
After a brief conversation with their superior, there was no time left to talk about aquatics. Illya had been ordered to apply for the job of a horn player at the theatre, much to his displeasure, and Napoleon had to see to it that this position became vacant in the first place. So they left the Turkish bath and went on with their assignment.
Two days later they were back in their office. The THRUSH computer in the basement of the theatre had been destroyed and the show had become a huge success, thanks to the two agents and Janet, the actress who had helped them. The job had been done well and even Mr. Waverly had had a good time, although he regretted not having been able to see Illya play the horn.
It was mid-afternoon and they were working on their report when Napoleon said: "So, are you doing anything tonight?" Illya looked up from his papers and answered: "Actually, yes I am. Why do you ask?"
"Oh." Napoleon sounded a little disappointed. "Well, I thought we could spend the evening together, have dinner, a couple of drinks..."
"You can spend the evening with me, Napoleon." Illya smiled mischievously. "But I don't think you'll really enjoy yourself."
Now Napoleon was curious. And, as always, ready to take up a challenge. "Just tell me where and when we'll meet."
Illya's face was unmoved when he said dryly: "Eight o'clock tonight at the U.N.C.L.E. pool."
Napoleon was at a loss for words. Finally he stammered: "But... but the pool is closed after eight!"
"Not for me. You know Betty from building maintenance?"
Of course he did—he had taken her out a couple of times.
"I did her a favour once and she is returning it by letting me have the key whenever I want it." Illya explained. "I like swimming in the evening. I like it when there's no one else in the pool. Well, I wouldn't mind you, of course. Are you coming?"
Napoleon wasn't exactly thrilled with this prospect but then thought of the question he had wanted to ask Illya three days ago. "I'll be there," he said, hoping he sounded as determined as he wanted to.
Illya was waiting for him at the door to the pool. It was eight o'clock precisely. He was wearing tight blue swimming trunks. Actually they were very tight and did nothing to hide the mound of his genitals. When Napoleon noticed that he was looking at it in an inappropriate way, he mentally shook himself and smiled at his partner. "So, here I am. What are we going to spend our evening with?"
Illya looked at him patronisingly. "How about swimming?" he suggested.
The pool water looked very calm but Napoleon's stomach was upset. He knew that the incident in the park had shaken him more than he was happy to admit. He looked at the water, remembering his agony of two days ago and found that he was most uncomfortable with the thought of immersing himself into that unwelcoming element.
As always Illya didn't seem to notice his fear. He dived into the water elegantly and vanished beneath the surface. And as always Napoleon watched, fascinated, then anxious, when his partner stayed underwater for a frighteningly long time.
After what for Napoleon felt like an hour, his partner emerged, panting a little, then, smiling at Napoleon, said: "Are you coming in?"
For a moment Napoleon thought of telling Illya that he had forgotten about a date for this evening and that he had to leave immediately but he knew his friend wouldn't believe him. And he wasn't someone to back away from unpleasant tasks, so he decided to be honest. "Illya, I... I don't really like swimming. And I don't think I want to join you."
"It's because of what happened two days ago, isn't it?" Illya said.
Of course it was. And he didn't like it. He was an agent who was expected to shrug off such things, just like that. But he couldn't. It had been so terrifying.
He realized that Illya was still waiting for an answer.
"I guess so." he mumbled, hoping that Illya wouldn't hear it. But Illya heard. He climbed out of the pool and stood next to Napoleon.
"Napoleon," he said, "you've never liked swimming. I've been watching you for a long time and you've never been comfortable in the water. You really should do something about it in case things like that happen again."
Napoleon was just thrilled. "So what do you suggest?" he asked wearily. Illya thought about it, his brilliant blue eyes fixing Napoleon for a good minute. Finally he spoke. "Maybe you should have underwater sex."
Napoleon's jaw dropped. "What?" he asked weakly.
Illya was ready to explain. "If I asked you what you find most relaxing, what would it be?"
Napoleon shot him an indignant look.
Illya insisted, "Wouldn't it be sex?"
"Well, even if it was..."
Illya raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, it is. Yes, I find sex relaxing. But what does that have to do with my, uh, disliking water sports?"
"Very simple," Illya said. "You try to overcome your, uh, dislike by doing something you like at the same time. Don't you think that would make you feel more comfortable?"
"Oh, but of course." It sounded ironic. "And how would I go about it? Take her out to dinner and then instead of asking her back to my place for a cup of coffee I'd say, 'would you like to go to the public pool now for a quick dip?' She'd probably tell me to go see a shrink instead!"
"I can see there's a bit of a problem," Illya admitted.
"And what if I ask her out and she can't swim?" Napoleon inquired.
Illya just looked at him from beneath wheaten eyelashes.
"And whom would I ask anyway?"
Illya's gaze became sort of shyly inviting. Napoleon couldn't believe what he saw.
"Illya, you're not saying you would...?
"I'm a scientist. I have recognized the problem and I...would like to conduct a few experiments to see if it can be solved."
Napoleon was about to tell his partner that this proposal was more than ridiculous and that he would leave now and give the lovely Elaine, receptionist extraordinaire, a call when suddenly there were lips on his lips and a tongue intruding his mouth. And then arms went around his waist.
He was taken by surprise and thus didn't notice Illya pushing him gently towards the edge of the pool. The next thing he knew he was in the water.
Napoleon wanted to kick and push Illya away and get out of the pool but his partner was persistent. He held him tight and his tongue kept swirling around Napoleon's in a most intriguing way. Napoleon had often admired Illya's luscious mouth and wondered what it would be like to be kissed by his partner. Now that he knew, he couldn't help but surrender. He felt himself relax in his partner's arms. Illya seemed to feel that, too, because the kiss became less demanding and more playful. His lips felt so soft on Napoleon's and his tongue touched Napoleon's ever so slightly. Napoleon was entranced by this tender assault and would have slipped beneath the surface involuntarily if his partner hadn't held him up.
And then Illya pulled back and took a deep breath. When his lips met Napoleon's again, they were slowly sinking beneath the surface.
It was very erotic, Napoleon had to admit. It felt so good to be floating in the clear water while Illya's tongue kept exploring his mouth tenderly. The sensations made his body react in a most pleasurable way.
The only problem was that Illya seemed to be able to carry on kissing him forever without needing to breathe whereas Napoleon was running out of air in no time at all.
When Napoleon felt the need for air become more urgent, he pulled back and started pushing and kicking again until Illya released him. He struggled upwards and when his head broke the surface he panted and cursed himself for nearly panicking again.
Illya looked at him thoughtfully. Then he said: "Napoleon, you're not going to drown. I won't let you. Just relax and let me help you."
Napoleon swallowed as his friend's arms encircled him again, but didn't fight him. This time Illya pushed his knee between Napoleon's thighs and started to rub his groin against him as they went under again.
Knowing what to expect, Napoleon had managed to inhale deeply. He was sure he would be able to hold his breath much longer this time, so that he could really enjoy what Illya was doing to him.
Illya's hand now slipped inside Napoleon's swimming trunks and firmly stroked his penis, which had become erect just like that.
Napoleon allowed himself to wallow in the feeling and forgot about the passing time. When Illya's hand let go of him, he still didn't feel the need to breathe. Well, maybe just a little, but he was still doing fine.
Now Illya let himself sink a little deeper, until his face was level with Napoleon's erection. He took it in his mouth without hesitating and started to suck.
Of course Napoleon had received blow jobs before, but certainly never one as unusual as this. The water surrounding him, the floating feeling, his partner's tongue stroking his cock...it was overwhelming and he knew it wouldn't take long until he came.
Unfortunately he also knew he was rapidly running out of air again. No wonder with his heart rate soaring up. He wondered briefly how Illya could do what he was doing at the moment. It turned Napoleon on immensely to think that maybe Illya was desperate for air, too, but still determined to finish what he started before he allowed himself to breathe.
'I can do that, too,' he told himself, although his urge to breathe had become almost unbearable by now. His chest was heaving involuntarily and his blood was roaring in his ears.
But his urge to come was just as strong. He would hold out as long as it took...it could only be seconds...he would be unconscious in a moment...
Napoleon felt his cock shoot its load down Illya's throat and he felt Illya swallow and then his self-control was gone and he exhaled with a whoosh and a mass of bubbles went upwards.
Illya was with him in an instant and pulled him to the surface before he could even think of inhaling.
They clung to each other, heads thrown back and panting, for a good minute. Then Illya said: "So, whenever you're in a situation like two days ago again, you just think of today and you'll be fine."
Napoleon pondered this and nodded. Then he said: "I have a further question. Are you as good at this on dry land, too?"
They looked at each other, left the pool and hurried towards the changing rooms to dry up...