by nickovetch

He would have laughed first. Would have punched the guy's lights out second. Would have, he mused. How long ago had that been true?

His partner was the one inclined toward Gypsy predilections, not he. He didn't care to look too far forward into his future. Truth was, he didn't know how much, if any, of a future he had, so why tempt fate and give her an inroad?

So, if someone had said to him, even hinted, that he would fall in love with his partner, his male partner, he would have collapsed in hysterics.

That thought tickled his mind as surely as his partner's strong calloused fingertips tickled his ribcage. The American shook his head once and gladly brought himself back to the present. The very pleasurable present, too. He sighed and rolled onto his back, pulling the slighter form of his lover on top of his very willing body.

"Good morning, Napoleon." Blue eyes gazed at him sleepily and he raised his head the few remaining inches needed to capture the kissable mouth presented. A long moment later, he replied, "Dobroye utro, Illya."

It had taken some getting used to, he admitted. Solo'd had to mentally and physically switch gears to allow that the love of his life had a penis, too. In true Napoleon Solo fashion his body had completed the switch faster than his mind. He recalled their first liaison and now understood that it happened precisely because they hadn't had time to think. They'd merely reacted. Maybe that was just the way it'd needed to be to get them over the obvious physical reservations of two male partners becoming something else altogether.

The mission had been winding down and they were checking the Thrush laboratory for notes and sensitive material. They both had lumps and bruises but for once were whole for the most part. Napoleon was readying his communicator to report in when he caught a flash of movement. Illya was oblivious, reading a partially scorched document with his usual doggedness.

Solo's shout of "Down!" came at the same time as the first gunshot. He pulled the Russian prone with his heavier body and covered him as the top of the counter erupted in splinters and shards of glass. Training overcame instinct as both men rolled apart and came up in defensive positions. Two Specials spat simultaneously and the gunman recoiled, two rounds slamming into his chest. Solo's round went high in the chest, and Illya's went low. Both were killing fire.

They crouched for a moment, breathing hard and listening for more of the enemy. Napoleon locked gazes with Illya and then slowly grinned at the look on his face. Admitted adrenaline junkies, they savored the leftover surge as it sang through their overcharged systems. So like sex, Solo mused and then was taken aback with the thought.

Illya turned to look at the door and Napoleon saw the blood running down his neck. "Hold still," he ordered. He took out his handkerchief and blotted the wound, carefully removing an embedded piece of glass from his skin. It wasn't deep but it was bleeding profusely. Solo pressed the cloth hard against the cut, meeting his partner's eyes and recognizing a mixture of relief and... something else.

Solo took a deep breath as he realized his face must be mirroring the emotions of his partner. He swallowed and shifted his fingers on the reddening cloth. "Let me take a look." The pressure had slowed the bleeding, but it would need a bandage. Looking around, the senior agent spotted a first aid kit on the near wall and retrieved it. He fashioned a gauze patch and taped it into place. He pressed his fingers against it to check for bleeding and nearly gasped as he felt the warm hand of his partner close over his.

He slowly slid his gaze across the pale neck to Illya's face, his chest constricting and his breath coming hard. "Illya?" he asked, waiting to see the next move and what direction his partner would take.

Illya took Napoleon's hand and placed it against his cheek, still covering it with his own. He was silent but never took his eyes from Napoleon's. He seemed to be gauging his partner's reaction, being cautious in case Solo was disinclined.

The gentle way Illya was pursuing him made Napoleon's mind up for him. Perhaps if he'd been too aggressive, too demanding, it would have been easy for Solo to deny him. But this almost shy seduction pulled Solo down into the emotional spiral as surely as a whirlpool. Napoleon exhaled as he realized how close Illya's mouth was. He could feel the puffs of warm breath against his lips and realized Illya was breathing fast, too. The pulse beneath the bandage beat furiously as Solo rubbed his thumb across the satiny skin of Kuryakin's jaw line.

Illya came forward just a fraction at the caress, but it was enough to seal the bargain. Napoleon closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss.

Solo had time for one thought as his brain short-circuited. I'm kissing my partner, kissing Illya. His body responded even as his mind sent one shiver of half-hearted rebellion through his nervous system. A tiny ripple rolled through him even as he felt himself growing taut with arousal. Panting, he pulled back from Illya and gripped his thin shoulders tightly. "Illya..."

Kuryakin was flushed, his face suffused with passion and his eyes boring into Napoleon's dark ones. He saw the slight hesitation in the American's face and broke contact, hanging his head in regret. Napoleon correctly interpreted the emotion and took his partner's face in his hands, pulling him up to look back at him.

"I'm not pulling away, Illya. I just want to make sure this is what you want."

"What I want? Napoleon, I've never been surer of anything in my life. It's you who needs to decide. If not..." his voice trailed off as he took in a deep breath, giving Napoleon a chance to stop now before things got out of control.

Solo smiled and took Illya's hand again. He ran Illya's palm across his generous erection, letting the younger man feel the answer to his question. "Does that make it clear to you?"

Kuryakin closed his eyes and caressed the flesh offered him. He felt the answering leap in his own groin and moaned. Solo removed his hand gently and Illya opened his eyes, puzzled.

Leaning in for another kiss, Solo said, "Not here, Illya. Not like this."

Nodding, the Russian agent got to his feet slowly, Napoleon giving him a hand up. He swayed a bit and steadied himself on what was left of the counter. "All right?" was the concerned question and Illya waved him off.

Solo had made a quick call to HQ to fill them in and to request a dust-off team. After their arrival, the pair left the lab and headed for their hotel. Once inside the privacy of their room, Napoleon gathered his partner close and simply hugged him, relieved they had survived another dangerous mission. Illya allowed the embrace and after a moment had begun a slow and sensual dance of fingers against spine.

Napoleon sighed, burying his lips against Illya's nape, breathing in the scent of him. He felt the solid fingers capable of lock picking, rock climbing, and various mayhems ghosting across his shoulders, kneading the kinks and aches out of his tired body. He slowly kissed his way across the ivory neck, coming up short when he reached the dusty bandage.

"We need to change this," he said, continuing the caresses lower, slipping the buttons of Illya's shirt open one by one and laving the Adam's apple along the way.

"Hmm," Illya answered, distracted by the feel of his partner's tight muscles under the firm skin. He tentatively ran his hands down Solo's back, reaching his buttocks and carefully brushing his fingers across them. He felt Solo jerk, and then was crushed against his chest, a growl of desire erupting from Napoleon's throat. He kissed the cleft of his partner's chin, tonguing the divot there and felt Solo's erection grind against him.

"Napoleon. Shower?" He was incapable of any more speech, and simply led Solo to the bath. Both men began peeling their sweaty and dusty clothes off, piling them on the floor in their haste. Napoleon gently removed the bandage from Illya's neck and kissed around the wound.

"Better?" he asked in a mischievous tone.

Illya nodded and started the water, climbing in first. He let the hot spray beat over his sore body, turning to rinse the grime and grit away. Solo sucked in a breath as he watched the nude form. Illya was beautiful, and he gazed admiringly at the compact and sleek body presented to him. Illya turned, soap lathering in his hands, and he held out a hand to Solo to invite him in. Once in the tub, Napoleon closed the curtain, that simple action effectively shutting out the world around them and cocooning them in a private place of their own making.

Illya stepped close and began lathering Napoleon's body. His skin was darker but his chest had even less hair than the smaller agent and he ran his slick palms over the smooth flesh of his lover. He felt Napoleon's hands roaming across his skin, familiarizing himself with the terrain. Napoleon gasped as his cock was gathered in eager hands and soaped lovingly. He looked down at the erotic sight of his dark cock-head being fisted in Illya's slippery grasp. He hungrily homed in on his partner's groin, feasting on the vision of his lover's lighter-skinned member, thrusting outward begging to be touched.

Swallowing his reticence and inhibitions, Napoleon took the hard cock in his hand and pumped gently, using Illya's gasps and groans as a barometer. The lather made for a frictionless environment and the feel of the hot slick flesh was incredible. Illya turned to rinse his front and Napoleon boldly nudged up close, his cock nestling under Illya's balls and sliding between his upper thighs sensuously. Solo had to catch Illya as his knees buckled for a moment, the raw sensations too much. He recovered quickly, delving between his own legs to grasp Solo's thrusting cock, rubbing it harder, causing more friction as it glided between his hand and perineum.

Now Solo moaned, the twin stimulation driving him crazy. He reached around and tugged on Illya's cock and exhaled sharply as he felt the Russian's hand wrap around his and work his own flesh tightly. As Solo thrust his hips forward, Illya pistoned their fists down, and then reversed the action on the backstroke. Napoleon had never felt sensations like this pooling in his gut and threatening to swamp his nerve endings. This was the most erotic and exotic sex of his life, and it was his partner, Illya Kuryakin, who was doing this to him.

It was overwhelming and he stopped thinking and just allowed himself to feel. Napoleon built up a rhythm and Illya matched it, both men making guttural sounds of desire and pleasure that reverberated around the small enclosure. Wanting to hold back, lengthen their pleasure, Napoleon knew he wouldn't last and leaned over the tense shoulder. Looking down the wet torso, Solo saw the flushed tip of Illya's cock poking out from their combined fingers. Groaning in need, he thrust sharply and saw his own cock jutting out from under Illya's tightly coiled sac.

That was all he could take and his balls tingled and warned him of his release. "Illya," he roared as his orgasm erupted, his pelvis contracted hard against Illya's ass as he spurted time and time again against the soft skin of his lover's scrotum. Illya heard the shout of completion and looked down to see the strong white jets as his lover's cock spasmed. His own cry answered as he tightened on Napoleon's hand and pumped into the cavern of flesh. His seed erupted in a torrent and he whimpered, as the release was nearly painful in its intensity.

Panting, the men held each other up as they calmed, bodies and hearts in overdrive, their erections still twitching with aftershocks. Napoleon lay his head gently between Illya's shoulder blades, utterly spent and amazed at the swell of emotions within him for his partner, no, his lover.

He felt Illya turn toward him and pulled the tired body to him, cherishing the feel of the relaxed, sated and drowsy weight against his chest. Illya's heart pounded against his ribs and he relaxed as well, the steady regularity calming him and assuring him of their safety. They'd barely managed to towel off and fall into bed before sleep dragged them down in a tangle of arms and legs.

Solo was brought back to the present by a sharp nip to his chin. Illya rose above him, smiling down and asking, "Where were you, Polya? And what were you smiling about?"

Napoleon yanked Illya's elbows forward and he fell fully prone atop the older man's body. "I was just thinking about us. Our first time." Illya's eyes hardened and his cock gave a hard jerk as he, too, remembered their lovemaking.

"Oh, Polya..." he moaned and kissed Solo deeply, incredibly aroused at the memory and the way Solo's erection pressed against him. Napoleon opened his mouth and allowed Illya's tongue to enter, playing with it, teasing the tip with his own and sucking the slickness deeper into his warmth. Napoleon would be content to kiss and play with Illya's luscious mouth all morning, but the determined Russian had other ideas.

He broke free from Napoleon's mouth and laved the dimpled chin on his way south. The American closed his eyes and relaxed, knowing when Illya had his mind on something there was no shifting him. He groaned as he felt the slick tongue coating his nipples with saliva and rasping it back off again. He felt his erection surge and drops of pre-come oozed down his fevered skin. He hoped Illya's route would be a direct one as he was sure he couldn't stand too many detours.

As if reading his mind, Illya zeroed in on his cock this time, wasting no effort on preliminaries and sucking the flared phallus down in one gulp. The close heat was exquisite and Napoleon bucked upward once, groaning, "Yes, Illya."

After only a minute or two of the apt ministration, Solo pulled out quickly, turning Illya around so he could return the favor. They lay on their sides, sixty-nining each other eagerly, wanting to please and be pleased.

Napoleon'd had to learn this act, as it was not a natural one for him. Illya had been a patient and loving teacher, and gradually Solo had come to feel confident in his ability to please his lover with his mouth. He grew to love the feel of the hard cock filling his mouth, the smell of Illya's musk working him up even more, and the gasps and groans coming from the talented mouth around his own hard cock were occasionally enough to make him come before he could bring Illya off as well.

Not this time, Napoleon thought as he concentrated pleasuring the crown and slit with his mobile tongue. Illya was especially sensitive there and when Solo combined the tongue action with quick hands on his balls, he knew he had the advantage. Illya squirmed, sucked harder on Solo's shaft and pumped uncontrollably into his lover's mouth. Napoleon let him slide in deeper, relaxing his throat so he wouldn't gag and mercilessly pistoned up and down on the straining organ. He gathered the tightening balls and tugged gently, priming them for release. The cocked surged in his mouth, expanding and jerking its way to orgasm, liquid heat blasting down Solo's throat faster than he could swallow.

Kuryakin released his lover's cock, the scream erupting from his corded throat as his orgasm blasted its way through his nervous system. He went rigid, concentrating on the delicious waves of pleasure racing through him. He felt Napoleon milking both his cock and his balls, determined to get every drop from his straining body.

The contractions slowed, then stopped, but Solo continued to lick the deflating cock, unwilling to let them separate so soon. Illya's groan of satiation caused him to smile around the soft flesh and he gave a final lick to the crown as Illya wearily crawled up his body.

With a wicked grin, Solo pulled Illya's mouth to him, giving him a deep kiss and tonguing some of Illya's come into his mouth. The younger man moaned and kissed back ardently, the taste of his own essence turning him on again as it was coming from his lover's mouth. Napoleon returned the attention, rubbing up and down Illya's sweaty back and cupping the firm ass in both hands, squeezing the pale globes and working a finger between them. Illya hissed into Napoleon's mouth, the digital stimulation enough to make him half-hard again.

Solo was raging, his cock as hard as ever, pressing arrogantly against Illya's cheeks, begging for admittance. They rarely took the time and effort for full intercourse, but both of them yearned for it: the overwhelming sensations of connection it gave was bliss.

Illya sat up, took Solo's erection in his hand and rubbed the weeping head against his opening for lubrication. He slowly sank down on his lover's shaft, welcoming the pleasure/pain of penetration and moaned as the large head split the ring of muscle, forcing its way in deeper. Napoleon threw back his head, the incredible tightness grasping every inch of him and swallowing him in pleasure. He panted, trying to calm his body's need, wanting to make it good for his partner as well. Illya's erection had returned and the slender cock jutted between their bodies, twitching with each inch of Napoleon that disappeared into Illya's depths.

Both men groaned as Illya was fully seated, resting most of his weight on his heels, rocking slowly to get used to the pressure. Napoleon squelched his desire to thrust into that perfect heat, giving his lover the time he needed to adjust to his girth. He knew he was large for Illya, but the smaller man seemed to love being possessed like this. Solo took a deep breath and asked quietly, "You okay, Illya?"

"Yes, Polya. Better than okay." He began to move, using his heels and his hands on Napoleon's forearms to steady himself. At the first movement Solo whimpered, trying not to drive into his lover too hard. He thrust easily in time with Illya's gentle rocking, gradually both men picking up the tempo and the depth.

Since Illya had just orgasmed, he was better prepared to last and was determined to get back at Napoleon for making him come as quickly as a horny schoolboy. He began the upward stroke slowly, gliding to the very tip of Solo's cock, almost letting him slip out, and then he reversed direction, slamming down hard, almost brutally, and relished the strangled whimpers coming from Napoleon's throat. He did this repeatedly, watching the ecstasy build on his dark lover's face, needing to see him at the moment of release. One last thrust and on the down-stroke Illya tightened around the needy cock, hearing the choked cry come from Napoleon as he lost control and rocketed into Illya's body, thrusting as he came in silvery spurts of passion.

Somehow Napoleon had the presence of mind to wrap a shaking hand around Illya's cock and tried to bring him off. Illya hadn't counted on the hot and heady feel of Solo's phallus pulsing stream after stream of warmth into him and the sensation scalded his nerve endings, causing him to lose control as well and jet into Solo's waiting hand. This second orgasm was just as intense as the first and the force of it shot pearly strands across Solo's chest and chin. He grunted with the release of it and slumped across Napoleon's sweaty body, feeling his partner's softened manhood slip out. Illya simply lay against Napoleon, too tired to move against his side.

When his breathing slowed, Napoleon pulled Illya up by his shoulders, his skin sliding in the body fluids he had shot across his lover. Quiet moments later, Illya recovered enough to raise his head and look at his lover languidly.

"Wow," was all he could manage.

"Succinct, as usual, Illyusha."

Napoleon ran his hands through Illya's damp hair, petting him self-absorbedly. He stroked the pale skin at his fingertips, relishing the weight of his lover's body on his. That was another facet of their relationship he'd had to puzzle out. The sex with Illya was incredible. Solo's experience before becoming Illya's lover was expansive. He'd done just about everything he could imagine and a few things he shouldn't have before settling down and becoming whole-heartedly monogamous with his Russian whirlwind.

The surprising thing was, he loved the quiet moments post-coital almost better than the physical side of their relationship. The feelings of safety, completeness, and tenderness would nearly overwhelm him at times and he marveled at the intensity of their bond. He'd never felt that with any of his women, preferring to "love 'em and leave 'em" and to dispense with any entanglements. It was rare for him to stay with a woman overnight and Solo had never taken anyone to his place. He remained detached in that respect, knowing it would be easier on his paramour if he left sooner than later.

But, Illya, he was another kettle of fish entirely. From the first time on, they had both seemed to need the closeness of each other's company more than the actual sex. Solo figured that the solitary life of a spy had contributed to the equation. Both men had realized that field duty would mandate they remain unattached at least until retirement, if they lived that long. Even though they had rationalized the need, it still made for lonely nights in a lonelier apartment. Napoleon had tried to fill the void with an endless succession of meaningless one-night stands. The loneliness remained but at least he could hold it at bay for a short respite.

Kuryakin was more pragmatic and less needy physically. He preferred his own company but did not feel the void any less. He had realized his feelings for his American partner much earlier than the older agent, but bided his time, uncertain how his very heterosexual partner would feel about taking their relationship to a new level. Being Russian, he was used to subjugating his feelings and was happy to take what he could from Napoleon's friendship.

The first morning Napoleon had awakened with his arms full of a sleepy and affectionate Russian spy, he had been taken aback at how comfortable it felt. No qualms, no doubts, no recriminations, he had simply felt... complete. He was amazed he hadn't thought of this inevitability sooner. Two men, partners first, friends second, and now they had become lovers. It didn't feel odd at all: it just felt right. Who else would know just what a relationship with a spy entailed except another spy? He laughed out loud at the absurdity of their relationship; not the present one but at how long it took them to get here. The answer to their needs had been quite literally at their fingertips. Solo sighed as he felt the warm body shift under his hands at his laugh.

Illya's questioning look sent a shiver down his spine. It was only here, in bed with his lover, that Kuryakin dropped all his defensive shields and let him see the vulnerability beneath the aloof façade. Napoleon loved this side of his somber Slav and never wasted any time exploiting the inroad. He tilted Illya's face closer and inched nearer capturing the full lips with his and breathing in the familiar scent. They explored each other's mouths hungrily, the need for sex dispelled but the desire for intimacy still strong.

Illya burrowed his cheek into Napoleon's neck, feeling the stubble along the strong chin and rubbing against it like a cat. He felt boneless, completely and utterly content. He sighed against the warmth of Napoleon's skin and wrapped arms around his chest.

Solo returned the embrace, squeezing gently in a bear hug. "It's a good thing it's Sunday."

"Hmm?" Illya didn't bother with anything more.

"Sunday, Illya. We're off. Good thing, because I couldn't even raise my head, let alone my weapon."

Illya smiled against Solo's Adam's apple and kissed it gently. "Even if you did, you'd be shooting blanks."

Napoleon tried to glare at Illya but didn't have the energy. "Oh, really? Would you like to see just how fast I could get my gun ready?"

Illya grinned wickedly and replied, "Your gun, Polya, or your Special?"

Solo smirked. "I happen to think my gun is special, Illyusha."

The Russian growled and ran his hand down Napoleon's abdomen. "Well, that makes two of us," he replied.

Napoleon gasped as Illya's talented fingers worked their magic on him. I guess I'm really not that tired. He smiled as he thought, funny what love could do to you. How it could make you change, turn you in a new direction, make you become something, someone you'd never seen coming. Maybe those Gypsy wiles had something going for them after all. Maybe they could see the person you were becoming instead of the one you were. Illya had definitely seen something in me worthy of the risk.

Solo was snapped back to the present by teeth on a very sensitive spot. He squirmed under Illya's weight and saw blue eyes smiling at him.

"Do I have your complete attention, Napoleon?"

"Ah, I... I would think that would be obvious to you in your present position, my love."

Illya laughed and tickled the inside of Napoleon's soft thighs, running his hands up and caressing the sac gently. Solo tugged on him tenderly, letting him know his need.

Puzzled, Illya stopped and asked softly, "What, milok? What do you need?"

Solo sighed and ran a hand along Illya's white throat, then continuing the caress along his square jaw and high cheekbone.

"I'd like to do something together we haven't done before."

Illya grinned and rubbed closer along the firmly muscled body below his. "Yes?" he smirked.


"What, Napoleon?"

"Would you read my palm?"

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