The Second Helping Affair

by Cynara




I regarded Napoleon, disbelieving his question. I kept eating, finally dropping my hand into Napoleon's. I trusted him with my life and had already delivered myself into his hands. What was more danger?

I finished my dessert one-handed. Since Napoleon couldn't defend it, I ate his as well. Perhaps it was a stalling tactic. It was very good dessert. Napoleon stood once I'd cleaned the dessert plate, encouraging me up from the chair. I stepped back pulling Napoleon.

We stood very close, such that I could feel his breath, could feel his gun against my ribs. What would the great ladies' man do?

Napoleon released my hand, dropping his to my waist. He reeled me in, his heat bleeding through our clothes. Our guns were hard between us, reminders of our apartness, of our jobs. Napoleon stroked my hair, leaned into my mouth.

"I think it's a little crowded."

It was such a strange thing to say. I understood him, and that had been my undoing from the first. His kiss was a warm sea lapping at a beach.

"I could leave." I made no start from Napoleon's arms.

"Could you really?"

Napoleon teased, enticed with his lips. He was insufferably sure and all I could do was pull him to his bedroom.

We broke apart to remove jackets and set aside our guns. We snapped back together pressing our buttons into each other's chest. Fortunately they need a fuse. Only desperation let our fingers get at the buttons despite the tight embrace. Flesh met exposed flesh, never enough. Somehow we tumbled into the bed finally nude.

I wrapped my arms hard over Napoleon's back, arching my neck into his fiendish, distracting lips. I felt them mark me, and knew the knot of my tie would cover that mark tomorrow. I pulled him down by the hips with my thighs, hooked my feet over his shins.

"It's not Graeco-Roman."

He breathed the words softly, kissed slowly. Napoleon still conceded nothing as he undulated.

"You always talk this much?"

"More, but you take words away."

I slapped him on the ass and he just chuckled. "You'd give your own eulogy." His nonverbal persuasion was most convincing, and I could only switch holds as Napoleon's hands teased one secret after another from my flesh. Sweet torture.

I moaned, surprised Napoleon chose his penetration. I braced my feet and encouraged Napoleon, clutching his hips and lower back. I pulled him by the neck, kissing him, knowing neither I nor the oxygen would hold out long. At the last moment I slid my hand between us, pulling him with me.

"Illya." Napoleon's hand latched onto my arm before I could slip from the bed. He had the sense to withdraw the restraining hand. He kissed me and rolled slightly aside.

I didn't need to say anything. Napoleon knew I had to go. We're agents, not first but always. "Napasha." I gathered my Special and clothes and went to shower.




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