Dislodged and Displaced
"Do you trust me, Napoleon?" It's an unfair question and Illya knows it. So, he's not surprised when Napoleon gives him a rather pitiful look in return, while still making sure to keep his injured shoulder out of his partner's reach. This whole situation is a mess, Illya thinks.
It was a mess practically from the beginning. They'd been sent to Burma to extricate an UNCLE agent from a secret THRUSH base deep in the jungle. They parachuted in, but soon learned that their fellow agent was already dead. To make matters worse, their infiltration of the TRUSH base blew up and Napoleon was captured. It took Illya days to come up with a new rescue plan, days during which the thought of what might be happening to Napoleon was almost driving him insane with worry.
Unfortunately many of his worries turned out true, and he was shocked at the state Napoleon was in when Illya finally got him out of that horrible cell.
Their stroke of bad luck continued once more when they were separated during their escape out of the base. Illya immediately started to search for his partner, but it took him almost a day to find Napoleon again. At that point he really had enough of the Burmese jungle.
Napoleon was hiding in some old ruins that practically littered the surrounding forest. Illya rushed up to him with a smile. But to his dismay he discovered that Napoleon's condition had even worsened since the last time Illya had seen him. Napoleon's dilated pupils and unsteady pulse were clear indicators that the drugs he'd been given were still playing havoc with his mind and body. He obviously suffered from dehydration, and he had somehow managed to dislodge his left shoulder. The joint looked badly swollen, which meant that it must have happened quite a while ago.
Acting on pure instinct Illya reached out for it, knowing that setting it and doing so as soon as possible was imperative. Napoleon, however, shied away from him. He stumbled backwards until his back hit the ruin's wall. He gave a sharp yelp of pain as his injured shoulder connected with the stones and had slid down the wall until he sat there—a miserable and silent bundle.
For a moment Illya looked at him with something close to despair. Briefly he considered simply overpowering his partner. It wouldn't be difficult. Right now, Napoleon seemed as weak as a kitten, but he only wanted to resort to that option if all other proved ineffective.
He turned towards the jungle, giving their surroundings a careful look. Earlier he had contacted Waverly requesting a pick-up. For the time being they should be safe where they were, he decided. It meant he had time to try out the other idea that had formed in his mind. Turning around again, he walked over to Napoleon. When his partner stirred at his approach, looking as if he was ready to scramble away once again, Illya made a low humming sound.
"Relax, Napoleon. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do, okay?" He fished out his almost empty water-bottle and held it out to Napoleon. "Would you like some water?" At Napoleon's nod, he carefully crouched down in front of him. "Here, why don't you sit down a bit more comfortably," Illya said. He tugged at Napoleon's right foot and Napoleon actually complied, stretching his legs out in front of him until he sat with his back leaning squarely against the wall behind him. Illya smiled. He kneeled down, and uncapping the bottle, he held it to Napoleon's lips who drank greedily, emptying the bottle's meagre content in a few long gulps.
Carefully Illya reached out, capturing a last droplet of water with his finger that had escaped Napoleon's lips and was slowly making its way down Napoleon's chin. He brought the finger to Napoleon's eye-brow, stroking along it only once.
"Do you trust me, Napoleon?" he asks, and he can't help the chuckle at Napoleons unhappy answering look.
He doesn't wait for an answer, but leans in, capturing Napoleon's lips in an almost chaste kiss. He knows this will need a gentle build-up, for it's important not to move too fast. He's counting on the fact that the question for trust will trigger a whole set of memories in Napoleon's mind. It's a phrase Illya has used every now and then during their lovemaking. For Napoleon the phrase should be associated with a whole set of erotic and entirely pleasurable experiences.
Illya pulls back, and as he has expected, the look on Napoleon's face is far less unhappy and more content now.
"Of course, I do," Napoleon replies belatedly, giving Illya a serious look. His voice is rough, most likely from both exhaustion and pain.
The answer calls for a reward, and Illya leans in for another kiss. This time he prolongs it, though he keeps it gentle, more caring than passionate. Rising slightly to his knees he pulls his right leg slowly up and over Napoleon's lap, so that he ends up straddling his partner. He feels Napoleon tense as he settles down.
He breaks the kiss and moving his head to the side, he nuzzles into Napoleon's neck, rubbing his cheek against Napoleon's. He starts to hum again. He keeps it up for quite some time and, despite the pain, he finally feels Napoleon relax again.
He keeps up his humming, low and without any words. Words would only be a disturbance now, something to distract Napoleon from the trance Illya's trying to induce. He brings up his left hand and lets it play in Napoleon's hair. His left hand is safe. It's far away from Napoleon's own left shoulder that is hurting so much.
Napoleon sighs and his eyes are fluttering shut. Illya smiles at the sight. He drops a kiss as light as a feather on each eye-lid. His hands draw soothing circles over Napoleon's chest and he can feel a much slower pulse as his fingers caress Napoleon's neck.
It's time, he thinks and acts. It's a matter of nothing more than a second. He grips Napoleon's right, uninjured shoulder for balance while at the same time giving a hard shove to the other, forcing it back against the wall. Muscles and sinews give and the joint is set.
The accompanying scream is nerve racking and far too loud for his comfort. After all, they are still not too far away from a TRUSH base. He's almost relieved when Napoleon loses consciousness. For a while he listens for any sounds from the jungle, but all seems clear.
Thoughtfully he gazes at his partner. This has been a dirty trick to play on Napoleon, albeit a necessary one. Nonetheless, he silently makes a promise to himself. As soon as they are out of here and somewhere safe, and as soon as Napoleon is up to it, he'll make sure to add another far more pleasurable memory to this kind of induced trance.
After all, it would be a shame if Napoleon lost his taste for it.