Over the Edge
Illya leaned on the crumbling stone wall and looked down into the valley. Since he was standing in Patapsco Valley State Park, he assumed that he was looking down into Patapsco Valley, but he wouldn't swear to it without checking a map first. Behind him, he could hear Napoleon reporting in, his voice a soothing drone amidst the sound of the wind in the trees. They'd taken out the Thrush satrapy with surprising ease, and with little collateral damage; all was right with the world. At least at this moment.
Napoleon joined him leaning on the wall, "We're due back in New York at noon tomorrow."
Illya nodded without turning, "A night off, if we catch an early train. Or we could head back tonight and sleep in tomorrow." He smiled as a hawk soared past them, riding the air currents without a care in the world. "Beautiful view."
"If you like looking at that sort of thing," Napoleon answered, standing up and moving away. Before Illya could turn to see where his partner was going, Napoleom was behind him, his hips pressing against Illya, pushing him against the rough wall.
Illya froze, "Napoleon..." He started to stand, and felt Napoleon's hand between his shoulderblades, pushing him back down over the wall.
"Relax, partner. No one can see us," Napoleon murmured, his hand warm and steady on Illya's back.. Illya could feel Napoleon's erection through all of their clothing, hot against his ass. "I want you," Napoleon murmured.
"I can tell that much. But here?"
"Here and now. Drop your pants, tovarisch." Napoleon emphasized the command with a twitch of his hips, thrusting against Illya's ass, making Illya scramble for his belt, fumble as he pushed his pants down just far enough. Then Napoleon pulled back, and Illya felt something warm and slick pressing at his ass, sliding in and twisting gently. One finger, two fingers, trust Napoleon to have vaseline in his pocket...
Then there was no time to think, no time to do anything but grab onto the wall and hold on for dear life as Napoleon grabbed his hips and found his target, pushing urgently into Illya until there was no space between them. He started to pump, slowly at first, then picking up speed, his fingers bunched into the back of Illya's jacket, keeping him pressed face down over the wall. Illya stared down at the tops of the trees, suddenly afraid that the wall was going to collapse and that the two of them would tumble to their deaths on the valley floor. He wondered briefly what the coroner would think, then Napoleon freed one hand and reached around, grabbing Illya's cock. No more thinking, no more worries. Just Napoleon, here and now, suspended over the valley floor.
All was right with the world.
At least for this moment.