Twin Beds, Two Stories

by nickovetch

I am not what I would call the jealous type. Normally, I don't fall into the sort of behavior where that emotion would come into play. But, tonight, watching Napoleon ready himself for yet another tryst was just about all I could stand.

I didn't let on, of course, merely observed the proceedings with a casual air; as if I had seen this a thousand times, as well I had. I lay on the bed, propped up on pillows, pretending to read the newspaper the hotel had provided outside the door. Of course, Napoleon had asked me to come with him, to find a date of my own to relieve the post mission randiness that always seemed to plague my partner. It was his routine, however, not mine. I feigned fatigue, although it was not much of an act, since every muscle in my sore body ached abominably. Napoleon was none the worse for wear as his usual famous luck had kept him from harm on our latest expedition. I sighed as that last thought ran through my head.

Napoleon stopped adjusting his tie as he looked in my direction. He was the picture of elegance, his black suit setting off the lustrous color of his hair. It was all I could do to not sigh again at what he did to my self-control.

"You all right, Illya?" he asked, concern causing his brow to furrow in a way which I always thought endearing. He walked over to my bed and stood close enough for me to smell his aftershave in a wave almost palpable. I restrained myself from sniffing. Barely.

"I'm fine, Napoleon. Just tired. Your tie is a little crooked." I knew this would distract him and send him off on another path. He was, after all, extremely vain. I used it as a weapon when needed. True to form, he frowned, turned toward the mirrored dresser and straightened a perfectly straight tie.

"I wish you'd change your mind and come with me. I hate leaving you alone in a hotel room. It's not exactly what they were designed for, partner." Solo winked and smiled the lopsided 'I'm so clever smile' at me. If he only knew what those smiles did to me...

"Well, Napoleon, contrary to what you believe, hotel rooms were also designed for sleeping. And that's what I plan to do as soon as you get out of here." The unsubtle hint seemed to satisfy him, and he ran a manicured hand through his thick hair. One last inspection in the mirror and he was gathering up his wallet and coat.

He paused at the door, and my breath caught at the sight of a fully decked out Solo on the prowl. Damn him for being so gorgeous, anyway. I covered my lapse by returning to the folds of my paper. I tried very hard to find something intriguing in the business section.

"Wish me luck, Illya," he said as he opened the door.

"When have you ever needed luck?" I returned. I saw him start at my uncommon compliment and he looked at me as if to respond. I reacted faster, luckily, and said firmly, "Goodnight, Napoleon."

"Night, Illya," he replied and pulled the door shut behind him.

I let out the breath I had been holding since he had walked out of the bath naked and dripping wet. This was getting out of control. I had to stop thinking of Napoleon that way. He was my partner, my friend, and thoroughly, unapproachably, uncompromisingly straight.

I tried to tell that to my mind, but my body was another matter. I still had on the heavy jeans I had worn back from the mission, glad that their bulk had hidden my reaction from my partner. The newspaper had been a stroke of genius, too. I wasn't too proud to use anything at my disposal to keep Napoleon from discovering just how much he affected me.

Like now, for instance. I was as hard as I had ever been in my life. That last parting glance from him had washed all my control away like so much water down the drain. I sighed again knowing it was no use. Giving in, I snaked the zipper down carefully over my aroused flesh. Pulling off the restrictive jeans I felt my cock expand even more with the freedom. I skimmed off my shorts and kicked the clothes onto the floor. The t-shirt was next, soaked with the sweat watching Napoleon at close range brought out. I was naked on top of the spread, my erection jutting proudly upwards, begging for attention. Not the kind of attention I longed for, but I resigned myself to the release. I slipped my hand around the stiffness, moaning as I envisioned Napoleon's hand doing just this. I closed my eyes and tried to lose myself in the fantasy. Stroking myself leisurely, I was in no hurry. Napoleon would be gone hours, if not all night.

Pretending it was my partner's warmth, I gathered my balls in my other hand and rolled them gently a few times. I was becoming swept up in desire, losing myself in the rush of feelings centered in my groin. I was an expert in solitary completion, and it never took very long. I must have been moaning quite loudly, for I never heard the door open or the dark figure creep into the room. I am only human and must let even my vaunted guard down sometime.

I still wonder to this day if 'forgetting' my car keys was a conscious or subconscious act on my part. The way things worked out it hardly mattered.

I had paused outside the door for a second, wondering if Illya had fallen asleep and if I would wake him. I heard a low moaning coming from the room. Not a moan of pain, for that would have precipitated a hasty entrance on my part. No, this was definitely a sound of desire, and it was coming from my self-controlled icicle of a partner. I froze, wondering if Illya had someone in the room with him. Illya? I almost laughed at the ludicrousness of the thought. Another moan, louder this time, wiped the smirk off my face and replaced it with a tight grimace. I was not impervious to the sounds coming from behind the door. I had been vaguely aroused since my shower, since walking out to dress and seeing Illya spread-eagled on top of the covers.

He was partially responsible for my going out tonight. I couldn't bear another night sleeping in a bed no more than three feet from his, trying in vain to keep his scent and proximity from driving me crazy. So I did what I always do; went looking for a convenient woman to bury myself in, all the while wanting my partner, my very reserved and unapproachable partner, so badly I could taste it.

It was something that was beginning to get out of control, to take on a life of its own. I didn't know how much longer I could take it, before I would crack and do something stupid, something irrefutable.

When I eased the door open and slipped inside, my resolve melted away as wisps of fog do before the sun. There was Illya, stretched out in all his naked glory, one hand working his beautiful cock and the other stroking his balls. My half-interested organ jerked to instant attention and I nearly gave myself away at the start. He was beautiful, incredibly beautiful. His face was flushed, his hair spiked in perspiration on his forehead. Eyes closed, his chest heaved with exertion as he brought himself nearer to the edge. The soft guttural moans coming from my normally stoic Russian were my undoing.

I must have made some small betraying noise, for Illya's eyes flew open and stared in horror at me for a second or two. Time seemed to stretch or at least bend as we looked at each other through the haze that enveloped us. The moment broke as Illya made an inarticulate sound and reached for the spread to cover himself. He was as bright pink as I have ever seen a human being get, and his expression was one of supreme embarrassment.

He tried to cover with a nonchalant, "Don't you ever knock?"

Words escaped me for the moment, however, and I'm sure I looked like a gutted carp just then. I closed my gaping mouth with an audible snap and sat heavily on the other bed. A couple of deep breaths later I was reasonably sure I could manage a word or two.

"I'm sorry, Illya. I forgot my car keys," sounded as lame to me as I'm sure it did to him.

He recovered quickly and tried to keep the conversation light. "They are right on the dresser as you can see," he said pointedly.

No, Illya, all I can see is you is what I wanted to say, but I knew he didn't want to hear it. Instead I said, "Oh." Score one for the Solo wit.

"I'm sorry if my behavior embarrassed you, Napoleon." The pink tinge was slowly fading, giving his skin a deep rosy glow.

"Your behavior?" I asked, unsure how to proceed.

Illya looked down at the bed spread covering his middle. "I should have...retreated to the shower for this particular activity."

A naked, aroused, and wet Illya popped into my imaginative mind. Oh, please...

"Illya, don't be silly. I was supposed to be gone for hours. It's not anything to be ashamed of. How many times have you walked in on me and some woman, anyway?" I asked gently.

Illya sighed. "But I was not with 'some woman,' Napoleon. I am never with 'some woman' in case you hadn't noticed."

I drew in a breath. This was the closest thing to intimate details as Illya had ever come concerning his sex life. I kept quiet to draw him out even more.

"I know you've always wondered, Napoleon, but you've always had the good grace to not ask." His head was lowered, but he lifted his blue eyes to look at my face. I felt my heart flutter at the look, wondering if he could be as wrong about me as I seemed to be about him. There was only one way to find out.

I cleared my throat softly. Looking into those wondrous blue eyes, I asked gently, "Illya, does that mean you're..." I couldn't finish; fearful of placing a label on him he couldn't shake off.

"Homosexual, Napoleon? Can you even say the word without recoiling?" The disgust in his voice was evident as well as the fear. Fear that I would turn away from him? Desert him? It was time for a confession of my own.

"Illya. Nothing you could ever tell me about yourself could disgust me. Quite the contrary," I soothed. He looked up at me, puzzled and unsure. Removing my jacket, I crossed to his bed and sat on the edge. "If I told you that I had male lovers in the war, would that disgust you, Illya?"

Now it was his turn to gape, his eyes showing the shock his face tried not to reveal. "But, you're can't be..."

"What, Illya? Can't be interested in a man? Can't be aroused by anything other than a woman? I'd say the proof is right here beside you, partner." I gave him a wicked smile and glanced down at my very pointed arousal. His gaze followed and I heard him swallow audibly.

If anyone had told me that tonight I would be sitting on a hotel bed staring at the bulge in my partner's pants, I would have laughed myself silly. As it was I was trying not to come unglued or become hysterical. The revelation that Napoleon was A. bisexual and B. turned on by watching me masturbate was more than my beleaguered senses could process.

I shook my head to clear it and dropped my head into my hands. Confusion and uncertainty were holding hands in my head, and Napoleon was inches from my naked body. Not the best combination, I feared. But leave it to good old Napoleon to take charge of any situation where sex was involved. I felt him take one of my hands in his and gently pull me toward him. I surprised myself and went without much resistance. Truthfully, with no resistance at all. Damn him.

He came into my arms easily, perhaps too easily. I think he was still shell-shocked at my revelation. I chuckled quietly at the look on his face and placed my hands on his thin shoulders. His naked flesh was incredibly warm and pliant under my grip. I ran my hands soothingly across his shoulders, back and sides while watching for his reaction. His long fingers began unknotting my tie, and I noticed they were trembling. He slipped the silk from my neck and let it drop to the floor. When he closed his eyes and leaned forward slightly, it was all the cue I needed. I bent forward slowly and touched his full lips with mine. Gently, I kissed him for the first time, easing our mouths into a comfortable position, making no demands on him that could cause him to shy. He relaxed into the embrace and surprised me by running his slick tongue over my parted lips. We both moaned at the touch and drew in quick breaths that allowed us to continue.

I placed my arms about his waist, snugging his torso to mine as the kiss deepened and connected us in a new and wonderful way. Illya moaned as my tongue licked at his lips, asking for and receiving the right to enter his mouth. I delved quickly inside, sliding my tongue around and under his, sucking in his saliva and bathing his tongue with mine. It was the most erotic thing I have ever felt. And we were just kissing. My cock surged at the thought of further explorations, and I willed it to behave at least for the time being. There was a veritable smorgasbord of sensations in store for us, and I wanted to taste all of them.

I eased him down onto the bed, covering his slighter build with my thicker one, feeling his answering erection under mine. It took all of my will not to thrust into that hardness, but I knew it was too soon for aggression. I wanted this to last, and by the way Illya was thrashing beneath me, he was conceding control to me. Unsure as I was of his experience with a male lover, I tried to slow the tempo to a pace more conducive to seduction rather than completion.

I broke off the kiss, hearing Illya's moan of regret, and slowly worked my lips across the smooth jaw and under the strong chin. He tasted incredible, sweat-salty and a dash of musk thrown in with his normal Illya scent. Even though this was our first time, I would know him by smell anywhere. And I was certain the reverse was true. Slipping wetly down the soft skin of his neck, I paused for a moment to look at him. A small smile crossed his lips. He was panting, flushed with desire and eyes bright with passion. We gazed at each other and I blinked back tears at the beauty of the moment. I spoke quietly, not wanting to ruin it, but needing to know for certain what he was feeling.

"Illya. Are you sure? This is what you want, too?" I realized I was holding my breath. He blinked at me through straw colored lashes. I was a goner.

He was seducing me, if it were possible to seduce someone who was absolutely wanton with lust. When he kissed me, I felt my world slide over to the continent, country and state of Napoleon. It was a place I never wanted to leave. He was terribly gentle, not at all what I expected, especially from a lover with Napoleon's reputation. Never hurried, he caressed my lips and tongue with a skill that made me lightheaded. I surprised myself by responding with my own caresses, spurring him on with my delighted approval.

He had no way of knowing, of course, that my sexual experience was abysmal. The few encounters I'd managed to have had been fraught with the fear of discovery and were fleeting in nature. But this was my partner, my friend, and I trusted him as I have trusted no other. That fact was very freeing, and allowed me to relax with him and let him have his wicked way with me. I smiled at the thought as he nibbled his way across my cheek on his way down my neck. I shivered at the touches, wanting so much more but wanting it to go on forever at the same time. When he pulled back to look at me, I nearly wept. The way he gazed at me was full of emotion and tenderness, and it caught me by surprise. Then I heard him speak.

"Illya. Are you sure? This is what you want, too?" I wanted to scream at him but kept the tenuous thread of control I had left and merely nodded, my throat unable to eke out the words. He smiled one of his melt-your-insides-smiles I had seen him give women before, but had never been the recipient of. I blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. I was a goner.

He nodded his approval and I was overjoyed at the response. Shifting into second gear, I began another assault on the pale body beneath me. I pulled the spread from his middle and feasted on the sight of his returning erection. It was just as I had dreamed; rose tipped and heavy headed, straining against gravity as it thrust upwards from his belly. He was glistening wet, his earlier arousal causing copious amounts of fluid to drip from the head. I wanted to dive on him, but forced myself to slowly work my way south of his smoothly muscled chest. I lavished attention on his nipples, one at a time, thrilled to hear him becoming more and more vocal with each stroke of my tongue. He was urging me on with his hands, running them first through my hair and then along my back. When I licked his nipple for the first time, he grabbed my ass with both hands and thrust that perfect cock against my abdomen. We both groaned at the contact.

I could take no more. I'm only human, and my resolve only has so much leeway. With Illya, it has none. I lapped my way past his belly button, swiping at it in passing only. I felt the tip of his erection nudge against my throat. I moaned loudly, and it jerked in response. I heard Illya hiss above me, his hands tangled in my hair. I cast one more look up at him and saw the silent pleading in his eyes for me to stop the torture. I was only too happy to oblige.

I took his cock in my fist, feeling the rigid flesh harden even more under my touch. I pumped once, watching the clear drop of pre-cum leak out and run down my thumb. I licked it into my mouth and tasted Illya-essence. I wanted more.

I breathed a gust of warm air across the head of his cock before reaching out with the tip of my tongue for our first contact. It was hot and heady as I wrapped my lips around the spongy flesh. I felt Illya stiffen and arch off the bed, trying to bury more of his cock in my mouth. I answered his silent plea by sucking him halfway in, running my tongue around the slit and under the base. It was as if I had sent an electric current through his erection with my tongue. Illya spasmed, writhing beneath me with complete abandon. He was whimpering my name and clutching my head almost painfully. I relaxed my throat and took him fully in my mouth. He stopped all motion then, going stock-still and looking down the length of his sweating body to see himself disappearing into my warmth. It was all he could take, and he closed his eyes again and snapped his hips up into my mouth. I held him down so he wouldn't choke me and began sucking him for all I was worth. I pistoned up and down his shaft, loving the feel of the rigid flesh and knowing I was driving my lover wild with the sensations.

Illya thrashed and moaned under me, trying to thrust for all he was worth. I knew he was close, so I decided to have pity on him. What I really wanted was to feel him lose all control and come in my mouth. My own cock twitched at the thought and I had to hurry. I took him in with another powerful pull and hummed deep in my throat. He twitched, all the muscles of his body tightening with desire, and then he convulsed upwards, his scream of ecstasy ripped out of him by the throbbing pulse of his orgasm. He jetted strongly into the back of my throat over and over, but I barely tasted him, so deep was he that he released past my taste buds, denying me the true flavor of him. I continued to suck, using my tongue to eke out the last vestiges of his orgasm, and I heard the shout reduced to whimpers as he came down from the peak. He growled out my name, "Napoleon..." and I was too far-gone to stop.

Without warning, my own orgasm spasmed between us, my cock jerking in the confines of my clothes, wetting the fly of my slacks with its copious release. I released his softening cock and shuddered against him as I came. I heard my voice crying, "Illya, Illya," but don't remember forming the words. I was lost in the most powerful orgasm of my life, and this without any direct stimulation at all. That had never happened to me before. At last, I was as spent as Illya, and lay against his flat belly, trying to catch my breath and my equilibrium.

As I watched him snake his way down my body with the ease of an oiled serpent, I lost whatever remnants of myself were left. I was his, truly, madly, deeply, as they say. He pulled back the covers and ravenously devoured my body with his eyes. When he fastened on my right nipple, I almost pulled his hair out by the roots. The shock of it thrummed down my body straight to my groin. I reached for him and felt myself grab his ass with both hands and hang on for dear life. The sensation of his body stretched out atop mine made my cock leap with anticipation. I heard him draw in a gasp of air at the contact.

He started in again, working past my nipples and licking briefly at my navel. I couldn't fault him for the brevity, as we both wanted his tongue somewhere else, and quickly. I felt my erection bump against the roughness of his throat, stubble prickling the sensitive skin. I shivered uncontrollably at that. Napoleon moaned and I felt the vibrations run through his skin into my aching flesh. I hissed in response and saw him look up at me as if to define the moment. I know the blatant look that must have been there, crazed as I was for him to continue. And continue he did, grasping my cock in his hot fist and pumping once as if to prime it. He licked my fluids off his thumb with relish, and I had to close my eyes at the sight. Napoleon tasting my essence was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. I spared a moment to convey that to him and sighed as he sensed the need.

I felt the wet warmth of his tongue snake out and lick the tip of my cock. If we hadn't been in a hotel with paper-thin walls, I would have brayed like a jackal. No one had ever done that to me, and I had dreamed of what it would be like. The dream paled in comparison to reality. Next, I nearly wept as Napoleon took the head in his mouth and licked and bathed it with his tongue. I tried not to thrust, but the small shred of control I possessed went out the window with the application of that able mouth. I surged up into him, only his grasp on my hips keeping me from ramming full length down his throat. I think I called his name but things were beginning to blur. When I felt his breath against my crotch, I looked down at the sight.

Napoleon was swallowing all of me, bobbing up and down on my shaft with abandon. I went rigid, shocked into stillness by the sensations assaulting me. I opened my eyes again to see my cock fully enveloped and almost lost it right there. I quickly closed my eyes and that was the last conscious thing I remember doing. The rest of the exquisite session went by in an orgasmic haze. I vaguely recall Napoleon humming while sucking me, and then I surged over the edge into shattering oblivion. I have never had an orgasm that caused me to black out. I seemed to hear Napoleon calling my name repeatedly, but I could not answer.

Awareness returned slowly, pulsing back with my heartbeat. I felt my lover's solid weight on my lower body and focused on the sound of his panting to bring me back to reality. He was in a similar condition, his consciousness hanging precariously, also. I gave him time to recover, knowing I needed the respite as much or more.

A few minutes later I heard a weak voice call out to me.


"Yes, Napoleon?"

"Did I pass out?"

"I don't know. I was too busy blacking out myself to notice."

A chuckle reverberated in the quiet.


"Yes, Napoleon?"

"Want to try that again?"

"Yes, Napoleon!"

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