Napoleon shook out the folds of the newspaper he was reading while his partner tidied up the kitchen. Tonight had been Illya's turn to cook. They had ordered Chinese.
Checking the entertainment section Napoleon asked, "Do you want to go out tonight? It's Friday, and we really should get out of the apartment more."
"Agreed." Illya wiped his hands on the dishtowel and ambled over to sit next to Napoleon on the couch. "Where shall we go?"
"Too late to get tickets."
"Not drunk enough yet."
"Okay, Illya, where do you want to go?" Napoleon said, a little exasperated at his lover's attitude.
"What about a movie? That's a pretty safe bet." Illya leaned into Napoleon's shoulder, knowing Solo would make room for him.
The dark agent lifted his arm and placed it across Illya's shoulders. He felt the tension in the taut muscles and wondered what had happened today to make him this way. He also knew better than to ask. The Russian would let him know eventually. Or maybe not. Either way, it was Illya's choice. Napoleon put the paper on the coffee table and flipped to the cinema page. Illya leaned over it and perused the selections but offered nothing in the way of suggestions. Here we go again, Napoleon thought.
"Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day?"
"You are joking, right?"
"Night of the Living Dead?"
"A Guide for the Married Man?"
Illya glared but did not reply.
"The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich?" He saw a reaction out of the corner of his eye and turned to Illya. "Yes?"
Illya read the movie blurb out loud, "'A historical documentary of Germany under Hitler's rule. A must-see for history buffs.' Well, if it's a 'must-see' then who am I to argue? That will be fine."
"Oh, nothing. Just a dark movie theater and you next to me. The mind boggles."
"Napoleon!" Illya was beginning to turn pink at his lover's obvious intent. "You know you have to behave when we're in public."
Both men turned solemn at the truth of it. If there were any other way, Illya, Napoleon wished fervently.
He turned Illya in his arms and replied, "Well, we're not in public right now, Illyusha."
He kissed Illya gently, sliding his tongue easily along the firm lips, lapping at the familiar lushness. His lover kissed back, pushing Napoleon down against the couch arm and meeting strength with strength. They necked and petted each other, reveling in the intimacy they were allowed to show in their own home and wishing it could be the same elsewhere.
"We're going to be late for the movie if we keep this up."
"Come on, Polya. You're the one who said we should get out more."
"Not that far out, Illya," Napoleon kidded.
Illya groaned and slid off Napoleon's lap with reluctance.
"Cab or drive?"
"It's raining. Let's just get a cab."
"Go get cleaned up and I'll meet you in the lobby." Illya moved to the phone and Napoleon to the bedroom.
Ten minutes later they were in the lobby. George the doorman had a cab waiting for them at the curb. Solo slipped him a bill and nodded his thanks.
Inside the cab, they relaxed and enjoyed leaving the driving to someone else for a change. They were going cross-town to the Marquis, one of the older theatres with more character than the new gaudy ones going up all over. Plus, it still had twin balconies where Napoleon could shadow the two of them away for a more intimate setting.
The cab pulled over in front of the bright lights, and the men made their way to the ticket kiosk. A plump grandmother type was seated there, smiling at them.
"Two please," Napoleon said.
"Now that's a sad sight." Grandma said. "Two good looking boys like you without a girl on your arm." She tsked them and shook her head. Handing over the tickets, she batted her eyes at Illya. He blushed and looked at the pavement.
Napoleon laughed and said smoothly, "Well, our dates cancelled at the last minute. So we're stuck with each other. The girls must have gotten a better offer."
"Not a chance, buster." Grandma winked at Napoleon this time and smiled. "Enjoy the show."
"We already have," Solo flirted back to the attendant, and Illya groaned softly.
Napoleon took his elbow and steered him inside the lobby.
"Must you flirt with everyone, Napoleon? I mean, she had to be 70," Illya complained as he reclaimed his elbow.
"I'd rather flirt with you, and you know it." He winked at Illya and got in line for popcorn. "Usual? Tea? Extra butter?"
"Yes, thanks." Illya wandered the lobby looking at the posters showing the coming attractions. Most were of no interest to him, being Hollywood drivel, but an occasional period piece would catch his eye. He looked back as Napoleon arrived with the snacks, and promptly relieved him of one of the teas and all of the popcorn.
"Hey," Napoleon groused. "Half the popcorn is mine."
"Well, you keep telling me I need to gain some weight. This ought to do it."
Solo grinned and motioned to the stairs leading to the balcony. "After you, IK."
Napoleon did so love to watch Illya mount stairs, especially when he was directly behind him. He was also glad he was wearing a trench coat. When you were Illya Kuryakin's lover, you had to plan ahead. He followed closely albeit a bit stiffly behind the blond.
Illya turned into the first balcony and peeked inside. There was a fair amount of people there, close to the rail. He raised his eyebrow and Napoleon gave him a negative shake of his head. They went to the next one and perused it as well. It was empty and Napoleon's eyes began to gleam. Perfect, he gloated.
They took the seats furthest back and settled down comfortably. A commercial for the lobby concessions was on and it made Napoleon smile with nostalgia.
"Remember when you were a kid and went to see the serials, Illya?" He got a puzzled look in return and immediately felt stupid. Of course Illya never went to the movies as a kid. He had barely made it out of his childhood alive. Napoleon wanted to smack his forehead in frustration. "I'm sorry, Illya. I wasn't thinking."
"It's all right, Polya. I like to hear about your childhood. You seemed to have such grand adventures all the time." He was smiling and Napoleon relaxed a little.
"I used to get a dime from my dad and run all the way to the movies on Saturday afternoons. The cartoons were first, then the MovieTone news, and then the feature. A gang of us used to meet there and throw popcorn at the girls." He grinned embarrassedly at Illya.
"Ah, a lady killer even then." Illya surreptitiously took Napoleon's hand as the theater went dark. Napoleon placed his coat over their laps to keep the display private. He sighed at the touch. Even something as simple as holding hands was usually denied them. Napoleon blessed the darkness and squeezed his lover's hand. Illya slumped in the chair and leaned his fair head against Solo's shoulder.
The movie credits rolled and they were caught up in the drama. The documentary began with the rise of Germany and of Hitler's meteoric ascent to power. Every so often, Illya would squeeze Napoleon's hand harder. He continued to caress Illya's hand and arm and would place a quick kiss on his soft hair.
Solo was lost in the wonderful feelings and not paying much attention to the screen when he heard a small gasp from his partner. The grip on his hand became painful and he glanced at his friend. His head was down and he was panting quickly, and his hand was cold to the touch.
Napoleon looked up at the screen for a moment as it brightened to show Nazi troops marching into Kiev. The jack booted soldiers goose-stepped proudly down a cobbled street, oblivious to the tear stained faces of their conquered foes. Solo stole another look at Illya and suddenly paled.
He understood immediately and asked, "Illya, are you okay?"
The Russian kept his head down and began to shiver. "Napoleon..." was all he managed to say.
Solo took his coat and wrapped it around the shaking man. He put his arm around him and gently lifted him out of the chair. "Come on, Illya. We're getting out of here."
He supported Illya until his feet were steadier and half carried him out of the balcony and through the lobby. A few curious onlookers made way when they saw the look on the darker man's face.
Once outside, Napoleon steered Illya to the alley adjacent to the theater. He was pallid and sweating, moaning lightly. Another step and Illya doubled over, retching painfully on the pavement. Napoleon supported his head while the spasms passed. A few moments later he stood up, grateful to be able to lean on Solo's strength since his was gone.
Sucking in deep breaths, Illya calmed slowly and his complexion returned to normal. Napoleon carefully relaxed his grip, ready to jump in again if needed. He rubbed Illya's arms trying to warm him.
"You okay, Illyusha?" he asked worriedly.
"I'm fine, Napoleon. I'm sorry my little drama overshadowed the movie."
"Shit, Illya, I don't give a damn about the movie. Are you really all right?"
"Yes, well, I must have really rattled you if you're cursing." He shakily smiled at Napoleon, who grinned back.
Illya looked like a lost little boy in Napoleon's trench coat and Solo had to bite back a comment. "Let's get a cab," was all he said.
The ride back to the apartment was solemn and tense. Solo paid the driver and followed Illya into the building. He was still shaking and his voice was strained when he asked for the key. Napoleon opened the door and ushered him inside.
After the door was shut, locked and the alarm set, Napoleon gathered Illya into his arms without a comment. He hugged him fiercely and kissed his neck, cheek and forehead over and over. Illya still trembled occasionally and hugged Napoleon back just as hard.
He didn't need to explain his need: Napoleon knew instinctively.
"Illya. I love you. I love you so much," he whispered into the small ear, calming his lover with both words and actions. "You know I'm here for you, don't you, love?"
"Yes, Polya. I know. Just...hold me."
Napoleon's heart ached hearing the words that were so hard for Illya to say. It was rare indeed for him to let his guard down so fully, even to the man he shared his body and soul with.
"I'm sorry, lyubovnik. I'm so sorry you had to relive that." He continued to soothe his lover's trauma away with soft and tender touches. Illya's grip became less needy as he relaxed more into Napoleon.
"Can we go to bed now, Polya? I want to feel you surrounding me. I...I need you."
Napoleon took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He helped him brush his teeth and stripped the clothes from him. Illya was very quiet and compliant, and that scared Napoleon. He disrobed also and turned the covers down and urged Illya onto the bed. Turning off the lights, Napoleon snuggled against his lover and spooned around him. Illya was still clammy and his skin was cool to the touch.
He moaned as he felt the heat radiating from Napoleon's body and pushed back against him. Solo's hands roamed over the cool skin, caressing and warming him with every touch. He whispered endearments to Illya and kissed the back of his neck, nuzzling gently across the warm skin of his lover's shoulders as well. Illya was quiet, returning the caresses and relishing the warmth.
A moment later, Napoleon felt Illya move his hand lower, over his erection. He moaned into Illya's ear.
"Illya, we don't have to..."
"Shh, Napoleon," Illya answered. "I need you tonight. Give me new memories to burn away the old." He thrust into the strong fingers as Napoleon stroked him higher and higher.
Napoleon nudged into Illya's cleft and rubbed against the soft flesh there. He thrust without penetrating, content to just be close to his love. Illya, however, wanted more and demonstrated that to Napoleon by thrusting his hips back suggestively. Napoleon sighed and lubed himself quickly, wanting to give Illya whatever he needed tonight. He entered him slowly, lovingly, and began an easy rhythm meant to bring him to the peak gently.
Illya had other ideas. He moaned and slammed his hips back against Napoleon with each thrust, wantonly inviting more. "Polya, Polya, please, I need more, need you..." he panted raggedly; trying to lose himself in the intense feelings Napoleon was bringing out in him.
Napoleon drove forward almost brutally and felt Illya jerk against him. "Yes, Polya, yes," he cried as Solo's hand continued to work Illya's flesh, and he lost himself in the plaintive cries of his beloved.
Another thrust and he felt Illya spurt into his hand and felt the constriction internally. Napoleon cried out himself, and emptied into his lover's body. For a moment he was lost in the place he shared with Illya only, the place he never wanted to leave.
Precious moments later he caressed the body of his life, his love, and lay his cheek against his soft neck. "Illyusha." No further words were necessary. Illya knew.
"I love you, Polya. Love you," he murmured sleepily, exhaustion finally claiming him.
"Sleep, my love. Sleep. I'm right here. Now and forever." He kissed the pulse point on Illya's neck and drifted off with him.
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