Follow-up to "Remission of Sin"

---

"I'm sorry, Napoleon, but I can't certify Illya for field duty." Dr. Mueller looked down at his clasped hands and then met the eyes of the Chief Enforcement Agent. "You know as well as I that he hasn't come around like we had hoped. There's just too much emotional trauma to deal with. He's made some progress, but the nightmares and the physical manifestations are still making themselves known. I wish I had better news for you."

Napoleon Solo sighed quietly. "Who's going to tell him? Me or you?"

Solo had known what the results of the latest tests would be, but his partner had asked for the battery to be performed and he hadn't wanted to take away the small gleam of hope that Illya'd held.

"I think he'd take it better coming from me. I'm his doctor and a certain amount of friction is expected. The two of you have had an adversarial relationship lately. And this would only make it worse."

"Agreed. I seem to set him off no matter how carefully I try to avoid the Illya minefield. I don't seem to be able to reach him anymore." Solo picked up a paperclip from Mueller's desk and began to systematically destroy it.

"Just make sure you don't stop trying. Illya is very fragile right now, and he's trying to keep people away. He's sullen and unresponsive half the time we're in session, and he's argumentative and prickly when he's around you. It's just a defense mechanism. He really needs you right now, but he won't admit that he does."

The psychiatrist watched Solo bend the paperclip into shapes it wasn't meant to assume. Soon the metal was lying in three pieces on the desk. The doctor couldn't help but think of the analogy of Illya's situation. The man was being stressed to the breaking point and pressured in different directions. Mueller only hoped that Illya could withstand the forces much better than the hapless paperclip.

"Have you noticed his relationship with April has changed? He's more relaxed around her, will open up much faster when we have joint sessions." Mueller didn't miss the change of expression on the enforcement agent's face. He knew Solo and Dancer had been involved somewhat steadily albeit casually the last few months and wondered how the addition of a third party to the mix was being received.

"Don't be so glum, Napoleon. Illya's found a friend he feels comfortable working out his feelings with. It's no surprise that he picked someone other than you to take that role."

Solo's head rose at that comment, the hurt visible on the drawn face.

Mueller was quick to put out the fire. "All I mean is that Illya is seeking out a more neutral party to help him cope with Mark's death. You forget, Napoleon, that in addition to being Illya's partner and best friend, you are also his boss. That's a dichotomy that Illya has to have trouble getting around. He trusts you, cares about you, but he also has to be guarded about what he tells you. He knows your job as CEA mandates that you report any disturbing or seemingly conflicting information that an operative reveals to you. Any operative..."

Napoleon let out a held breath slowly. "You're right, Dr. Mueller. Of course he's doing the best he can. The least I can do is to be supportive of his...collaborations." Solo knew there wasn't anything romantic going on between the two agents but he did resent the fact that Illya was confiding in someone other than himself. The realization hit him squarely in his ego and he was shocked at the proprietary sense he had for his Russian partner.

Am I jealous? Of Illya or of April? He'd have to work his own feelings out on that issue if he expected to be of any help to either of his agents. April was still grieving, still raw from the method of Mark's death. He'd been there for her, holding her when she needed it, regaling her with Mark stories when she needed a laugh, and generally standing at her side while she charted her new lonelier course.

But who was there for Illya? an inner voice niggled at him. The infuriatingly private man held nearly all comers at arm's length. Slate, Dancer and Solo were the only people the Russian had let into his life, and he'd done that grudgingly, slowly and methodically.

When Thrush had captured, tortured and brainwashed Kuryakin and then used him to kill Mark Slate, Illya saw his personal life crumble before his eyes and was very nearly buried in the rubble. For he'd been certain he had lost April as surely as he had lost Mark.

Solo was jolted as he realized how utterly alone Illya must have felt. Cut off from Mark and April by fate and from Solo by circumstance, he must have been floundering. Guilt etched his face as the lesson hit home.

He looked up at Mueller and asked, "What can I do to help him?"

Mueller got up and poured them a drink from his decanter, one of his most popular prescriptions. He handed a glass to Solo and sat on the edge of his desk. "Just be his friend, Napoleon. He needs one desperately. Don't let him push you away. Keep at him; let him know you aren't going anywhere. I would suggest you invite him to share in some of the personal time you now have with April. Don't make it obvious; just let him know that the two of you want to include him in your circle again. He misses Mark more than he's letting on. So does April. They both need to admit that and deal with it." Mueller finished his drink and stood. "If you'll excuse me, I have rounds to take care of." Mueller didn't like the look of near desperation he saw in the CEA's expression.

"I'll tell Illya the news as soon as possible. It's better to get it out of the way. Stick close to him today and be ready for anything." As Napoleon rose to leave Mueller rested a hand on his shoulder. "Give it time, Napoleon. He will get better. He's not alone, even if he feels that he is."

Solo nodded and shook the doctor's hand. "Thanks for the help. And the kick in the pants."

"You need another one, let me know." Mueller grinned and left just ahead of Solo.

---

Paperwork was the bane of any enforcement agent's position. Solo seemed to be drowning in it lately. He couldn't get Illya to help since he was officially restricted and unable to read the reports let alone type them up. So it was well into the afternoon before Napoleon headed down to the lab to check on his Russian.

Illya was in one of the auxiliary labs, working on something arcane that Solo hoped he wouldn't try to explain to him. It made it hard to keep his eyes from crossing. His partner was alone, his back to the door and lost in thought. Knowing better than to creep up on him in such a situation, Solo merely waited him out.

Illya's hand reached for a beaker and the fingers were trembling. Kuryakin was fighting for control and losing. He dropped his head and finally grasped the container in his left hand. Faster than the eye could follow, Illya flung the beaker across the lab to crash against the far wall, shattering and tinkling musically as it disintegrated.

Napoleon gaped at his friend. Illya rarely let his emotions show to this extreme even though he thought he was alone. His hands were clenched on the counter and his back was ramrod straight.

"What did the beaker ever do to you?" Solo joked, knowing it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left him.

Illya shot out of his chair and turned, his right arm going for the weapon he wasn't allowed to carry. Seeing Napoleon standing there in the doorway, he sagged back onto the stool. He said nothing, his face coloring to bright red as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

Napoleon walked slowly across the lab and sat on the empty stool next to his partner. He took a measured breath and then said, "I guess you talked to Dr. Mueller." There was no response, no acknowledgement of his words. "I'm sorry, Illya."

The Russian nodded tersely, and went to get a broom and dustpan. He began to clean up his mess and Solo didn't offer to help. He stayed still and let Illya work through it on his own.

"I apologize for my behavior, Napoleon. It was most unseemly of me." He quietly brushed the bits of glass into the pan and disposed of the detritus.

"Unseemly?" Solo stood with one hip parked against the counter ledge. "Illya, if I were in your position I think I'd have broken more than a beaker by now." He smiled gently at his partner. "Like someone's nose, or their jaw or..."

Illya held up a hand. "All right, I get the picture." He came back to the counter and sat next to Solo again, his body language expressing the feelings he wouldn't verbalize. He sat stiffly, sullenly, almost goading Solo to say something that would lead to another argument. Illya wanted, needed the argument. At least he got some interaction that way. Not being able to partner with Napoleon was slowly leeching the life out of him. He missed the senior agent more than he cared to admit, and watching him take on cases alone was nearly unbearable.

The stoic Russian in his bones would never allow him to simply tell Napoleon how he felt. Solo might see it as a weakness and that was something Illya would never permit. A sharp feeling of melancholy drifted across him and he realized how much he missed Mark Slate. One of a very small group of friends, Mark had shared many interests that Napoleon had not. They frequented jazz clubs, played guitar, went pub-crawling on occasion, and generally felt comfortable with each other. Illya felt an ease being with Mark that he never fully did with Solo. He could talk to Mark about cases, mistakes and gaffes that the Russian agonized over and never fear being chastised or ridiculed. Mark had his own foibles and shared them as well.

But that was gone now. Another lifeline Illya'd grasped that had been ripped out of his hands. By my own doing, he thought morosely. He had no one to blame but himself. And he was very good at assigning blame.

Napoleon heard a small sigh slip out from the guarded Russian. His chest tightened as he thought of a dozen things he could say to lighten the mood. He tried none of them. He felt uncomfortable around Illya lately. As partners, they seemed to almost share each other's skin when on assignment. But now, there wasn't that thread, that pull of comradeship that bound them together. He wanted desperately to find a way to get it back.

The lab doors whooshed open and April Dancer waltzed in. Both men rose when she approached. She was a fellow enforcement agent but they were still gentlemen at their core. Illya smiled at her in greeting and then edged away to his desk against the opposite wall, wanting to give Solo some privacy.

Dancer asked a question with her eyes, and Solo shook his head slightly. He pulled her down to the stool and took one of her small hands in his. They were careful not to be blatant about displays at work, but were affectionate in private. "How's the case going?"

Dancer had been trying to crack a case involving a known mobster and a Thrush scientist. She was trying to corroborate their complicity but they were being very careful about leaving a paper trail or any other kind of incriminating evidence. It was a tedious task and April would not give up. "Swell. I'm no closer to solving the puzzle than I was at the start."

"You're just at an impasse right now. Something will break, or someone will do something stupid. They always do." He took in the tight set to the agent's shoulders and the frustration in her voice. Dancer needed a break as badly as Kuryakin.

"Look, you're working too hard. You need a diversion." A wicked smile broke out on Solo's face as he drew her close. "How about my place, eight o'clock, dinner?" Dancer smiled and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips. "You're on, Mr. Solo."

April separated herself from Napoleon and went to Illya. He had busied himself with reports and pretended not to hear their conversation. "How's it going, Illya?" He turned to her and she tried not to be alarmed by the bags under his eyes and the sallow look to his complexion. She hid her reaction with a smile and a quick peck on the cheek. Illya blushed and the color did him a world of good. "That's my boy," she whispered in his ear. "Now don't you bury yourself down here in the bowels of the earth, Illya, my love. You've got to get out. Flash those baby blues at one of the girls upstairs and she'll be under your spell, I guarantee it."

April winked at Illya and then waved at Napoleon, blowing a kiss to him before she went through the door. Illya wore a bemused look on his face but quickly masked it as Solo sauntered over. "She's something, huh? A force of nature."

"She is that, Napoleon." Solo started as he heard the wistful quality in his partner's voice. Well, no wonder. Solo had a wonderful evening with a gorgeous woman ahead of him and Illya had, well, he could have anything he wanted, couldn't he? Solo knew his partner too well to fool himself. Illya would work late in the lab, drag his tired body home to a lonely bed where he wouldn't sleep, and then come back to HQ in the morning like the good little automaton he was becoming.

Not tonight, Napoleon decided. "Illya, why don't you come over tonight? April and I don't have anything planned, and I know it would do her heart good to see you get out of here."

Illya sighed and pushed away from the desk. "Thank you, Napoleon, but I must decline. I would just be in the way. A...what do you say? A spare tire?"

Solo chuckled and automatically corrected Illya's idiom. "Third wheel, IK."

"Ah. I see." He bent over the papers on the desk again, ignoring Solo and hoping he'd go away.

"Hey, come on. Don't brush me off. I'm really doing this for April, you know. She's working too hard and this would give her something else to worry. Or, rather, someone else." He elbowed Illya in the side playfully.

Kuryakin frowned. "So I am merely to be a distraction for April?"

"Of course. You don't think I actually want your company, do you?"

Illya snorted. "How can I refuse such a heartfelt invitation?"

Solo beamed. "It's settled then. Be at my apartment at eight. Bring chocolate. That should keep both you and April happy while I cook."

---

Napoleon hummed as he stirred the sauce simmering to a low roil. The table was set, wine chilled, dessert defrosting, and April's arrival was imminent. He'd conspired with Dancer earlier in the day, making sure she knew to come early. He wanted to talk to her about Illya and what they could do about his problem. Illya wouldn't openly talk about his innermost feelings. Normally it took drugs or worse to pry anything personal out of him. Solo hoped the inclusion of April into the mix would loosen him up, allow him to relax and encourage him to talk out his problems. The doorbell rang and Solo coded the alarm and opened the door with a gentlemanly flourish and a bow. "My lady, thy servant awaits thee."

Dancer giggled and punched him in the shoulder. "Knock it off, Nappy. I'm tired and hungry and...mmpff..." The remainder of her diatribe was lost as Napoleon closed the door and pressed her against it, his mouth covering hers and greeting her with his own hunger. Their bodies nestled against each other with familiar abandon and Dancer melted into the embrace, all woes forgotten. April closed her eyes and sighed into Solo's open mouth, encouraging the playful tongue that licked against her own. She felt her body responding to him, her nipples tightening and her belly spreading with warmth. No other man got her going as quickly as Napoleon, his command over her wondrous and frightening at the same time.

The kiss ended and Dancer pulled back slightly. "Now, where was I?" Her eyes twinkled as she leaned in for another kiss. Napoleon placed a finger across her mouth and shook his head. "Illya will be here any minute. Let's not get too carried away." Napoleon turned to check on his sauce. "Besides, I thought you were hungry?"

April watched him walk away, admiring the view. She growled low in her throat. "You know exactly what I'm hungry for, Napoleone." She laughed when he gave her an innocent, little boy look. "Go on, Chef Boyardee; get back to your kitchen."

"You'll pay for that remark, little girl. Later..." Solo smiled and kept talking as Dancer settled on one of the bar stools next to the kitchen. She could smell the aromas drifting toward her and watch Solo work as well. She loved to see him away from the office. In casual clothes he almost seemed to be her age and his cares melted away, leaving him relaxed and happy. And downright sexy, she thought.

He noticed the look and said, "Penny for your thoughts."

She smirked. "Hah. Your ego's big enough already."

He leered at her. "It's part of a matched set. My ego and my..."

"Napoleon!" April stopped him with a shake of her head.

He laughed, his hazel eyes sparkling at her. "All right, I'll behave. For now." He turned the sauce down to low and then sat next to her on another stool. He turned serious and Dancer almost saw the CEA mode switch on. She frowned slightly and asked, "What is it?"

Napoleon sighed. "Illya. I talked to Dr. Mueller today, and he told me to take a more active role in his recovery. Actually, he suggested both of us try to spend more off-duty time with him."

April nodded. "So the invitation tonight is part of that prescription?"

"Yes. Do you mind?"

"Mind? I'd love to see Illya out of that lab and with us instead of sitting in his apartment. I love Illya, you know that."

Napoleon bit down on the jealous flare that tried to surface. He knew what Dancer meant. "But does Illya know how you, how we, feel about him anymore? He's floundering. He's hurting and he doesn't want anyone to know. He doesn't have me as a partner anymore, or Mark as a friend, and he's completely flummoxed as to his relationship with you."

"What do you mean?" April got up and poured them a drink. She knew she needed one.

Solo took a swallow. "Thanks. It's just that he knows you should hate him for what he's done and you don't. You've been kind and supportive to him and that just makes the guilt hurt worse. But he's too much a gentleman to pick fights with you to keep you away like he does me." Napoleon dropped his head and stopped. "I don't know how to reach him, April. I see him drifting away from me and I don't know how to stop it."

Dancer stood next to Solo and leaned into him for a hug. She rocked him slowly in her arms. She knew how he felt. In a way, Napoleon had lost Illya as she had lost Mark.

"We'll just have to get through that thick Russian skull of his somehow."

Solo snorted. "Well, let me know if you think of a way I haven't tried."

The doorbell rang again and April let Napoleon go. He gave her a sad smile and then put on a happy face as he opened the door.

Illya stood in the hallway, unsure of his reason for being there. Much as he wanted the company he hated butting in on Napoleon's privacy. He managed a smile at Solo's genuinely welcoming greeting.

"Well, come on, come in. Don't stand there like a poor relation."

Illya smirked. "A poor relation couldn't have afforded this." He held out a Lord and Taylor's bag. The sweet smell of milk chocolate drifted from the folded top. "Or this," he said as he pushed an ice-cold bottle of Stolichnaya vodka into Solo's hands.

"I know just what to do with both of those," Solo said. He plucked the bag from Illya and dropped it into April's lap. He then poured Illya a large glass of the clear spirits and put the bottle in the freezer. Illya nodded his approval. He took a large gulp of his drink and smiled at April.

"I'm so glad you came tonight, Illya." April peeked into the bag. She squealed in delight. "Really glad." She pulled out a miniature globe with different chocolates made into various countries. There was a dark chocolate China and a white chocolate Australia. The pieces were put together like a jigsaw puzzle. Dancer was afraid if she ate one the whole ball would fall apart. Her love of chocolate won out over the trepidation, however, and she carefully pried out Brazil with a fingernail. It was dotted with crushed Brazil nuts, of, course. She popped it into her mouth and made sounds of blissful delight.

Next she took out the U.S.S.R. It smelled like mint. She held it out to Illya and beckoned him with her crooked finger. He went to her obediently and she placed the goodie on his tongue. He let the candy melt and then echoed Dancer's sentiments.

Solo stomped into the living room and took the rest of the globe. "All right, that's enough. You'll ruin your appetite." He stuffed the ball back into the bag and gave Illya a baleful glare as he passed.

April stuck her tongue out at Solo when his back was turned and Illya grinned at her.

"I saw that," Solo lied.

"What, you have eyes in the back of your head now?" April teased.

"All CEA's do. They're standard issue." Napoleon brought a tray back with him loaded with antipasto. He offered April first dibs. "Try the fried ravioli. Before Illya gets to the plate." He looked at his partner and winked. Illya glowered at him and sat down on the couch. Solo set the tray down on the coffee table and went to work on the salad.

"There's wine if anyone wants it."

Illya held up his vodka and said, "I'm fine."

"Me, too," April echoed, although she eyed the bag of chocolate on top of the counter.

"I know what goes well with antipasto, though, Napoleon." She edged closer to the American agent. She pressed against him seductively. He closed his eyes and purred against her. April saw her chance and grabbed the Lord and Taylor bag and whooped victoriously. She dashed into the living room and took refuge behind Illya. She wrapped her arms around his waist and giggled. Illya snatched the bag out of her hands and held it over her head.

"Hey! No fair! I got it first!"

"'Possession is nine-tenths of the law,' April," Illya quoted to her. She chased the slight agent around the couch and finally tripped him on the second pass. He fell onto the cushions, laughing, and April pounced on top of him. She grabbed the bag while Illya was down and then skittered away, taking the prize with her. "You're getting slow, Kuryakin," she teased, as she pulled Japan out and made like Godzilla.

Napoleon watched, convulsed in laughter as well, enjoying his two friends cutting up. It was just what they needed and just what he'd hoped would happen. His gaze went to Illya, lying on the couch, panting, watching Dancer with hooded eyes. Solo's stomach tightened. He knew that look...

April was oblivious of the interaction, concentrating on her chocolate booty. She dropped into a wingback and clutched the bag possessively. She glanced at Napoleon and a puzzled look drifted across her features. Solo shook his head slightly. Dancer watched as Illya straightened up on the couch and blanked his features once again.

Solo broke the silence by announcing, "Dinner's ready. That is if you have any room left, young lady."

"I'm sure Illya can polish off what I can't, right?" The Russian smiled shyly and sat next to Napoleon. Dancer sat on the other side of him. Illya'd gone very quiet and she wasn't sure why. Napoleon had a strange look on his face, and she knew she'd missed something important.

Solo tossed the salad and Kuryakin poured the wine and they ate while making polite conversation. The earlier joi de vivre was gone now. Words were strained and although the meal was excellent, Illya found himself eating too quickly, trying to be done so he could make an excuse to leave. He wouldn't look April in the eyes and felt Napoleon's eyes watching him.

Napoleon did his best to keep the mood light, but even he could see it was a losing battle. Illya became more sullen and glum by the minute. Solo poured a sweet wine to match the dessert. The three agents picked at their torte, not really tasting the layered confection.

Illya reached for his glass, wanting to finish off the wine and make his excuses. His hand began to tremble just before he grasped the stem and the goblet tumbled onto its side, spilling over the tablecloth. "Chyort!" he exclaimed, embarrassed at his lack of control.

Solo went to get a towel and Dancer edged over, taking the shaking agent's hand in hers. "It's all right, Illya."

He felt the warmth of Dancer's skin against his and sighed despite himself. He knew it was wrong; she was Napoleon's, but his mind couldn't convince his body of that fact. In fact, his body reacted quite definitely to her proximity, his hand steady and firm in hers. April kissed the palm of his hand gently, letting him know he was among friends. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.

Napoleon returned with a dishtowel and watched the byplay. He noticed immediately that Illya's shaking had stopped completely and that his posture was relaxed and calm. April looked up and saw the tenderness in Solo's eyes. "Keep going," he mouthed to her. She was bewildered for half a second and then their earlier conversation came back to her. Well, this was certainly a new way to get through to the Russian. She saw the acceptance and the trust in Solo's eyes and sent that back to him with a smile. Napoleon sat quietly in his chair, not wanting to break the mood.

Dancer scooted a few inches closer, pulling Illya's body nearer. He went without resistance, eyes still shuttered, hoping this wasn't a dream and that he was really in his cold bed at home, fantasizing once again. April kissed the back of his hand and then his wrist, right over the pulse point. Illya gasped and his eyes flew open to look directly into April's. Her eyes radiated warmth and love and acceptance to him. She nodded gently. He dragged himself away from her face and dared to look at his partner. Napoleon's face was gentle; he looked at Illya and said very softly, "It's all right, Illya. We both love you, do you know that?"

As soon as the words reached him, Illya dropped his head, trying to hold onto his emotions. "How can you?" he whispered. "After what I did? How can either one of you..." His voice broke then, his control shredding in the shelter of his friends' concern.

April took both his hands and held on as Solo slowly walked behind him, placing his hands on his shoulders, letting him feel the closeness. Illya was strung as tight as a piano wire, his muscles bunched and corded under Solo's hands. Napoleon began to knead them, gently running up and down the strong line of collarbone and upper arms.

Illya was still hunched over, trying to curl into an inaccessible ball. Dancer solved the problem by draping her long legs over Illya and sitting in his lap. He had to straighten up to avoid merging with her and that placed him squarely in Napoleon's territory. His eyes were wide and dilated, his breath rushing out of him in great gasps. Solo held the trembling shoulders while April's hands began a slow and curious inventory of the captive man's body. She slipped questing fingers along the soft skin of his exposed throat, causing him to moan and arch his head back in helpless assent.

April searched Napoleon's face, asking for permission or denial. She saw the decision had already been made, whether either of them had realized it or not. These three souls were bound together by forces none of them understood but heeded nonetheless. Solo stood quietly, supporting Dancer's instincts and merely allowed Illya to feel his presence and his approval.

Red hair danced across Illya's upper chest as April came closer. She started kissing Illya's throat, undemanding, gentle touches that had Illya nearly incoherent with desire. His body knew what it wanted, but his mind screamed for attention. He finally gasped, grabbing April's hands to keep her from continuing.

"No," he said quietly. "This is wrong." He tried to turn around to look at Solo, but he held him fast and said, "Why is it wrong, Illya?"

"She's...she's yours, Napoleon." Even though it tore his heart out to stop, he couldn't bear the guilt of coming between his two remaining friends.

Solo smiled at April. Illya could hear it in his voice as he answered, "Yes, she is, Illya." He leaned across Kuryakin's back as April leaned into him. Napoleon took April's mouth in a passionate kiss, their skin rubbing across Illya's cheek as they embraced. Illya stiffened, feeling the connection between them electrifying him. He felt Solo's hands on his shoulders tighten, the fingers nearly caressing.

The kiss ended and Solo whispered in Illya's ear, "And so are you. You're just as much mine as April. You just didn't realize it until tonight. None of us did." Tears ran down Kuryakin's cheeks, only to be kissed away by April's full lips. Her hands were busy at his shirtfront, slipping buttons apart, impatient to get at the alabaster skin she knew was beneath.

"April," sighed out of him as he surrendered to her touch. She pulled the shirt away and let it drop to the floor. Her lips began a trail from collarbone to bellybutton, her lipstick leaving love bites behind. Illya nearly came out of the chair when he felt the calloused hands of his partner begin roaming across his pectorals and upper chest. His nipples tightened immediately and April felt the erection beneath her thigh leap in response. They groaned simultaneously and Solo smiled, relieved that Illya would allow his touch.

Watching April and Illya together was an erotic fantasy come true for the older man. He was hard and ready and it had only been a few moments. As he watched April's hands move closer to Illya's belt, he tipped the Russian's head back over the chair's edge and kissed him before he could react. April chose just then to touch Illya through his slacks, and he surged upwards directly into Solo's mouth. Napoleon kept the pressure light, allowing Illya to control the kiss. Much to Solo's delight, Illya kissed back, his wet tongue snaking out for a tentative, brief caress. The erotic feel of his partner's lips on his made Solo's sexual orientation slide a bit further into the realm of Kuryakin.

They broke contact, Illya's chest heaving like a bellows as he tried to suck in enough air to stay conscious. His gaze glittered across April's body, watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath and her lips part as she pulled the fasteners on his pants open. Illya pulled her to him in a quick motion, surprising them both. He kissed her hungrily, his mouth working against hers almost painfully, his passion allowed to come into play for once. April relaxed into the touch, letting him know he was safe here and that she was very willing to continue. She stroked his erection again, using her fingers to scratch lightly against the straining head.

He pulled away, gasping and moaning at the same time. April climbed off him, gave him her hand and tugged him up. She molded her warm body against his, delighting in feeling his hardness press up against her. A moment later, Napoleon was at Illya's back, his strong arms going around the slim body to wrap them both in an embrace. Illya felt Napoleon's answering heat pressed against the small of his back and shivered.

He heard the words and felt Solo's warm breath on his neck. "Let's take this into the bedroom, shall we?" Goosebumps raced across his skin as his common sense vied with his libido. It wasn't even close. At that moment Illya knew he wanted Napoleon as much as April.

April took Illya by the hand and led him to the master bedroom. Napoleon trailed close behind. Dancer took hold of Illya's waistband and pulled the slacks and briefs down in one motion. She pushed him back onto the bed and removed his shoes and socks as well. Illya was uncircumcised and hard as a rock. April turned her attention away for a moment and began to strip Napoleon as well. They kissed hungrily as they shed their clothes. Solo unhooked April's bra and let it slip down to the puddle of clothes. He mouthed her breasts one at a time, worshipping her areolas and nipples each in turn. When they were both naked, Napoleon crushed her to him, reveling in the feel of her warm skin sliding across his. April moaned as she felt his manhood pressing against her mound, her desire so inflamed she wanted him inside her, now.

Napoleon chuckled against the skin of her throat and said quietly, "Aren't we forgetting someone?" Dancer swallowed and took one small step away from the addiction she craved. She turned to Illya, propped up on his elbows, watching them with unabashed pleasure. Napoleon was jolted by the wash of desire that pulsed through him as he surveyed the Illya landscape. April seemed enamored as well, drawn to his body as Solo was. She slowly reclined against Illya's length, draping herself over him and watching the delight ripple through him like a wave. He cried out and flipped her onto her back, covering her with his torso now and allowing his hands to roam over her incredible body. He settled against her breast, rolling his fingers across her nipples and finally sucking one of them into the heat of his mouth, his tongue and lips working her feverishly. April began to toss her head back and forth, the sensations pooling in her gut. She was wet and ready and she wanted both men desperately.

Napoleon lay at their sides, content to watch them together. April turned her head to him and he began kissing her, tonguing her gently and slowly while Illya switched to the other breast and gave it attention as well. Caught up in the passion, April began to push Illya's head lower, telling him where she wanted him most. He was a quick study and trailed wet kisses down her sternum and flat belly. She smelled wonderful and her skin was petal soft. Her musk was stronger with every inch he traveled and his mouth was watering as he reached the center of her desire. Her labia were swollen with need and she was dripping with wetness. Illya parted her gently with his fingers and then his head lowered to her. His tongue swept across her, causing her to thrust up against him. Illya held her hips down with his hands, wanting to control her as he pleasured her.

He stabbed his rolled tongue into her, driving in as deeply as he could and still breathe. She tasted wild and salty and he couldn't get enough of her. April seemed to agree and tried to buck against him with every swipe of his tongue. She was groaning and Napoleon was paying very close attention to her. He had moved down to her breasts and the twin stimulation was enough to cause April to go into orbit. She began to pant and emitted high-pitched yips that quickly turned into yowls. Illya knew she was close and he sucked her clitoris, flicking his tongue against her and finally biting gently at the rise of flesh. Dancer screamed then, going rigid against him as Napoleon swallowed her wail with his open mouth.

She came back to awareness as Napoleon stroked her hair and nuzzled her lips. She tried to focus on Illya's face but dropped her head back on the pillow in utter bliss. Napoleon winked at her and inclined his head toward Illya. April managed to sit up as she watched the second act begin.

Solo reached down between them and got a handful of Illya's luxurious mane. He'd always wanted to touch it, caress it and run his fingers through its depths. He tugged gently, pulling Illya to him by his head. The feel of Illya's sleek power under the soft skin was hypnotizing to Solo. Kuryakin crawled across Dancer's body to nearly lie against Napoleon's hard-muscled torso. Then April was treated to the single most erotic sight she had ever seen.

Napoleon Solo, womanizer extraordinaire, pulled his very male partner against him and began licking and sucking April's essence from Illya's face. The younger man drew in a breath, barely able to take it in. Napoleon watched his eyes and saw the passion ignite in them anew. He kissed April's juices from around Illya's mouth and suckled his tongue, bathing it in a mixture of his saliva and pure April. Illya moaned low in his chest and cupped Napoleon's face in his hands while he tried to find Solo's tonsils with his tongue. After watching her two men go at each other, April couldn't remain passive. She wedged herself between them as they parted, welcoming her inclusion once again.

She positioned Illya so he was on the bottom and then raised her hips invitingly to Napoleon, spooned up behind her. She kissed Illya long and deep, tasting herself and Solo there. Napoleon locked eyes with Illya, encouraging him and April both. "Come on, lyubov; show her what you've got." And me as well, he added silently.

Illya cried out as he heard the endearment meant for him and pulled Dancer on top of his restless body. The touch of her skin on his filled him with abandon and he thrust against her, his pelvis grinding against her lower belly. She gasped as she felt him hot and hard so near where she wanted him, the tension causing her hips to join Illya's in an unconscious dance of desire. She bucked down and then up and groaned as she felt Napoleon edge up tightly to her, his straining erection rubbing against her slickened entrance. Caught between the two men she nearly short-circuited with lust.

Solo heard her grunt of passion and knew she couldn't make the decision. He answered for her by thrusting forward and sheathing himself inside her with one hard, fast stroke. He slid in easily, surrounded by wet, warm silk. As he sank fully into her they both whimpered, the exquisite feeling almost unbearable. Illya reclined against the headboard, watching as Napoleon's slick cock alternately appeared and then resheathed itself deeply into April's body. He watched his partner's washboard abdominal muscles move rhythmically as he pumped into her. He couldn't hold in the deep moan that escaped him. Napoleon taking April while he watched was the most wanton sight he'd ever seen.

The redhead searched Illya's captivated face as he watched Napoleon move in her. Solo pulled her up by the hips and molded them even closer together, locking eyes with Illya as he thrust deeply. The motion put Dancer's face just over Kuryakin's thick cockhead. She made eye contact just before she tried to swallow him whole. He bucked upwards, crying out as she sucked him deeply into her throat. Her tongue worked against his hard flesh, taking him deeper and pulling back the foreskin to get at his sensitive slit and crown. Illya's cries of pleasure reached Napoleon on a deeper level than he'd ever have admitted. He thrust faster and harder into April's willing body, watching her take in Illya's saliva-slick cock one inch at a time.

Both men were panting now, straining not to come too soon, but knowing it was a losing battle. They were both buried deeply in Dancer, both taking everything she could give and more. Solo knew he was moments from oblivion and wanted April to join him. He reached underneath her and began to rub her mound, letting her buck against the heel of his hand. She groaned against Illya's cock, and he jerked as he felt it along his nerve endings. She bucked once more and then shuddered backward against Solo and then forward on top of Kuryakin. She released Illya as she came hard, screaming and thrashing in the thrall of the most intense orgasm of her life. Napoleon followed right behind her, barreling into her clasping body once more as he closed his eyes and went rigid, feeling himself pulsing into Dancer over and over again. He bit off the scream that tried to erupt and whimpered low and long. Jet after strong jet left him until he thought he would pass out from sheer pleasure. Just when he was sure he would, his orgasm wound down and left him leaning across April's back limply, shattered. He panted harshly, unaware of anything except his own tortured breathing. After a moment he could begin to process again. He felt April shaking beneath him and rolled to the side to take his weight off her. She lay with her head in Illya's lap, trying to catch her breath as well.

Solo looked at Illya and smiled shakily. Kuryakin's gaze burned into him and when April sat up, Solo saw Illya was still hard. "You didn't come?"

The blond shook his head. "I was too caught up in watching the two of you. Bozhe moi, you're both so beautiful."

April rolled to the Russian's other side and said wickedly, "I think I can take care of this development." As she bent to engulf Illya once again, Solo hissed once. April shot a glance to him and saw he was shaking his head.

His eyes never left Kuryakin's. "No. Let me, April. Please."

Her eyes grew larger as she realized what Solo wanted. She backed away and then laid her head on Illya's shoulder. He bent to kiss her and while they were engaged, Solo slithered down to Illya's lap. His erection jutted up demanding Napoleon do something and soon. The brunet reached out and took Illya into his hand. He could barely fit his cupped fingers around the impressive girth. Illya moaned and watched as Solo closed his lips just over the tip. The taste was heady and hotter than hell and Napoleon felt his own cock filling again at the thought of what he was doing and to whom. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air and the distinctive scent of Illya Kuryakin.

He lapped around the flared head just peeking out from the covering of loose skin. Rasping his tongue against the underside, Solo pushed back until he uncovered the exquisitely sensitive skin of Illya's crown. Illya jerked and more of his cock disappeared into Solo's mouth. He worked up and down along the shaft, taking as much as he could and then coming back for more. Illya looked down and watched as he was devoured by his best friend. He nearly came from the sight. Napoleon's hand clasped at the base of his cock, stalling the imminent orgasm. Illya's eyes snapped shut, trying to filter some of the sensual energy down to a dull roar. He didn't ever want to come. At least until he felt another set of lips and a second tongue join the party.

He did look then, and was jolted by the vision of Napoleon and April tonguing each other and him voraciously. Solo had his shaft and was sucking for all he was worth. April concentrated on his balls, rolling first one and then the other with the tip of her tongue. Illya tried to breathe, tried to do anything but spiral down into the pleasurable depths rushing up at him like vertigo.

"Ahh, April, Napoooleon..." He tried to warn them, wanting to give Solo at least a moment to back off, but his orgasm blasted out of him like a runaway train. He did scream then, a full-throated roar that came from his very soul. Or what was left of it after Napoleon and April had laid claim to it.

Illya felt his semen erupt and shoot into Solo's mouth. Napoleon didn't seem to care and even took more of the shaft as it twitched and jerked in his mouth. April moved up and licked around Napoleon's mouth as some of Kuryakin's come leaked out the corners. He opened his mouth enough to allow April to share in the heady Illya essence. Kuryakin's last cognitive thought was that they were trying to kill him...

He vaguely felt his cock being cleaned by two sets of lips, busy tongues joining in as well. He really wished his brain would join his body so he could enjoy it. Some time later he realized that Solo was lying on one side of him and Dancer the other. He glanced at one tired face and then the other, grinning from ear to ear. He let his head fall back on the pillow and felt himself drifting, happier than he had ever been in his life. He draped one arm around April and the other across Napoleon. They both snuggled close to him and each other, a tumble of sated arms and legs.

Just before he began to float away, he whispered quietly in the dark surrounding them. "I love you both, too, Napoleon."