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The New Beginning Affair

By: Pelaam



Pelaam© May 2010

Author's notes about this story are at the end.

And I won't be satisfied 

Until you're here by my side 

You're as close to me as two is to three 

And the door is still open to my heart (Lyrics: The Door Is Still Open To My Heart)

A large hand reached to scrub at tired hazel eyes as Napoleon watched his too-pale partner sleep. He glanced away from Illya's face to take a slender, capable hand in his. He rubbed the knuckles with his thumb. If anyone were to look at him now he knew they would not see Napoleon Solo the handsome, sophisticated, debonair ladies'-man and half of the most respected and successful partnership in the organisation. They would see someone whose face was lined with exhaustion and anxiety, whose suit was creased and rumpled and who only had eyes for the unmoving blond lying in the hospital bed.

And they would also see the real feelings that Napoleon normally kept well-hidden from the world.

Stupid. Clumsy. Idiot. Each harsh word and more besides was directed at himself. He lifted Illya's unresponsive hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to its palm. He then cradled it in his larger hand and rubbed it over his beard-roughened cheek, needing the faux-intimacy, willing his partner to respond. Please, Illya. Open those beautiful blue eyes, he pleaded silently.

It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to bellow like an angry animal at the surgeon's standard platitude. 

"We were lucky, Napoleon. The bullet passed through relatively harmlessly. It just nicked a vein which caused the excessive bleeding. It didn't hit anything important. He'll be fine."

As he played the words over in his mind, he stifled the sound of anger and grief by pressing Illya's hand over his mouth. Of course it had hit something important. It had hit something vitally important and the most precious thing Napoleon had in his luxurious, but otherwise empty, life.

It had hit Illya.

And it should have hit him instead.

No matter how many times he replayed it over in his mind, the same words came back to haunt him. 

Stupid. Clumsy. Idiot. 

They had successfully exited the lab, and were sprinting away as it exploded behind them. He had been leading as usual, and he had spotted the shooter. However, as he had started to raise his gun, he had tripped. Over his own clumsy feet. He knew there would be no time to raise his weapon again as he staggered to regain his equilibrium. He could only hope he received a minor hit.

Instead, a blond angel had once again saved him. He was still unable to fathom how Illya had closed the distance between them, leaping the last couple of feet, one arm outstretched towards him and the other levelling his gun in the shooter's direction. Then everything had happened at once. Illya's out flung arm had shoved him safely aside. One, or all three of Illya's rapid-fire shots, had hit and downed their nemesis and Illya had almost... almost... succeeded in remaining unscathed. However, his speed was just a fraction too slow and the bullet meant for Napoleon had torn through Illya's body. 

Seeing his friend, his partner, hit and bleeding, sent through Napoleon a pain deeper and sharper than any bullet hitting himself could have been. There was nothing he could do except tear at his shirt to create a make-shift bandage to press against the profusely bleeding wound and help Illya over the couple of miles to their car. His Russian wolf had been as stoic and undemanding as usual, not letting Napoleon know just how freely the wound was bleeding. However, even Illya's tenacity had finally crumbled, and Napoleon had carried his unconscious bundle the last few hundred yards.

They had rendezvoused with their helicopter, returned to headquarters and while Napoleon had been quickly and efficiently debriefed, Illya had been equally quickly and efficiently operated upon. That had been early yesterday. After his debriefing, Napoleon had changed into spare clothing and mounted his vigil.

He could not help but muse that his reactions were slowing. He was slowing. He had ineffectually tried to suggest that he and Illya move away from field work. He had been working on securing a role in training and development, and he knew the Labs would welcome Illya with open arms. However, he had not found the right way to put it across to Illya. The blond had thought it was because Napoleon wanted a new partner and the brunet had spent a good few hours assuring Illya that was as far from the case as possible. He did not want a new partner.

He wanted Illya. In all ways. For all time. 

Yet bold, daring, audacious Napoleon Solo, the man with a golden tongue and never at a loss for the right words, found his courage failing and himself tongue-tied when it came to being honest about how he felt for Illya. It didn't matter that the worst that could happen was that Illya would refuse, he reasoned. He was ninety nine percent certain that the Russian would not ask for another field partner, but that one percent doubt was like a knife twisting in his side. So he did not risk it. However, this was the second injury Illya had picked up in less than three months, and Napoleon blamed himself for both.

Still holding Illya's hand, he had been absently humming aloud when he jerked out of his reverie as a detested voice registered in his meandering mind.

"I would suggest you at least get a wash, Solo."

He turned his head slowly, easing Illya's hand back to the bed and glowered at the newest addition to the medical team.

Dr Royce Mills. Even the man's name set Napoleon's teeth on edge. It was also like looking at himself over a decade younger. They were the same height and breadth. Mills' eyes were darker and his hair thicker and his face held far fewer lines than Napoleon's. There had been a few good-natured jokes about their similarity and the female staff, as well as some of the male, had looked with dreamy eyes at the newest recruit.

As far as Napoleon was concerned, Mills could have any or all of them. All save one. Illya Kuryakin.

Illya was his. 

However, Mills seemed to ignore that at every opportunity. It had been bad enough in itself that a few months ago, he had been ushered away from his injured partner by the on-site and well-respected Dr Anton Rogere to clean up a bit. Anton had treated both of them more times than Napoleon could count, and allowed them the freedom to sit, at all hours, waiting for the other to regain consciousness, and Napoleon trusted him implicitly. But on his return to Illya's bedside, his friend had awakened in his absence, and it was Mills who held his hand. 

Napoleon had not known that jealousy could be the cause of such a crushing sensation in a man's chest or send such sharp shards of pain into a man's heart. It had literally taken his breath away. Illya had been confused and disorientated. Napoleon had hated the soft, soothing tones that Mills had used to settle the blond. But worse still was the fact that those words were whispered in Russian. That had always been one of Napoleon's advantages. He had quickly regained his place from the would-be usurper, but had been just the start.

At every available opportunity, Mills had insinuated his presence alongside Illya's, and the blond seemed to have taken to him. The Ice Prince seemed to have thawed just enough to allow Mills to get closer than any other, save Napoleon himself, and that alone made the brunet want to throttle the doctor.

"Illya will be waking soon according to Anton. I'm staying till he's conscious," Napoleon growled. His voice brokered no negotiations over the situation.

"I could have you removed," Mills tossed casually back. "I'm sure that would look good on top of you being the reason he's here."

"He's here because he was injured in the field," Napoleon hissed dangerously.

"Because he saved you. Again," Mills shot back. "How many times are you going to jeopardise his life? Face it, Solo. You're at the end of your usefulness in the field. Let him go before you drag him down with you."

Bullets in his heart could not have hurt or crippled Napoleon more than those words. Because he felt they were true. He turned back to Illya's face, relaxed and pain-free and looking so much younger, so angelic in repose. He wanted Illya safe. Because he loved him. Why were such small words so hard to say?

"When you've worked in the field I'll have more respect for what you have to say," Napoleon ground out.

"I read your own report," Mills said, his voice both smug and accusatory. "You tripped. So much for the ace agent. Cut him loose, Solo. Cut him loose before..."

The rest of Mills' words were lost as both men turned at the sound of a discreet cough.

"I would be grateful if you would go to requisitions and order in these supplies, Dr. Mills," Anon Rogere said in a low, calm voice. "I need you to replenish the stocks in the operating suite and the Recovery room when you're done." He handed the papers to the younger man.

"Surely a nurse..." Mills began, but at the single, raised eyebrow, he stormed ungraciously to the door. Let the old men have their moment. He would be Head of Medical soon enough, and he would ensure Rogere was retired and out of his way. 

As far as Mills was concerned, Napoleon Solo was a fool. Mills wanted Illya, and he would have him. It was almost too easy. Ramming home to Solo that he was responsible for Illya's injuries was the best way to force the agent to back down. With the delicious blond, it was any suggestion that he was not up to par as Solo's partner. Absently he mused that the incredible feat of shooting the sniper and shoving Solo to safety was probably as a direct result of his own insidious attacks on Illya's capabilities to protect the older man.

He did not care. All he wanted was the pale, lithe body writhing beneath him. All he had to do was get Illya away from Solo and the blond would be his for the taking. And he would take. Again and again. He gave a soft groan as he hardened. He was bedding a few men and women in the organisation and a couple outside of it. He would proposition the first of his willing bed-mates he saw to take care of his burgeoning lust. Then, when Solo was away from the luscious blond, he would mount his subtle assault on Illya once more.

Napoleon watched the exchange between older and younger medics with interest. It seemed that Anton was not as enamoured with Mills as he had thought. As Mills left, Anton's eyes rested on him.

"A good doctor," Anton said. "However, as a person he leaves much to be desired."

A soft moan had both men relegate Mills to the backs of their minds and focus on the slender blond who was slowly waking.

"'Poleon?" Illya's voice was an uncertain croak. He could not be sure his partner would be there. After all, he had failed once again. The last couple of times he had ended up like this it was to find Royce was waiting for him to awaken.

"I'm here, partner mine," Napoleon assured as he waited for the beloved blue eyes to open and focus on him.

At the sound of the warm, reassuring voice, Illya allowed his eyes to open slowly. He felt his body relax as the familiar hazel eyes, and then the rest of Napoleon's visage, came into view. 

"Let me help," Napoleon added solicitously as Illya's eyes moved to the glass of ice chips that Anton placed at the blond's bedside. He raised Illya's head and spooned a couple of small chips past pink lips before easing his partner back onto his pillows. The older agent had not missed the look of uncertainty on Illya's face, and his instincts told him that Mills had been sowing doubt into his partner's mind at times when the blond was at his most vulnerable. 

All he needed was five minutes alone with the medic.

"Are you alright, Napoleon?" The softly spoken question had the angry brunet quash all his feelings of anger and turn compassionate eyes to his partner.

"I'm fine, partner mine," Napoleon assured, deciding that he did not care if he sounded possessive. He let his hand briefly touch a pale cheek. "That was some stunt," he added. He frowned as Illya's face seemed to crumple.

"I'm sorry I failed."

"Look at me, Illya," he commanded softly, using his hand to cup the blond's chin. "You did not fail. We completed the mission. You saved my life and took out the sniper in a move that almost defies belief. You were amazing, Illya, and I am very glad I have you watching my back."

The words seemed to ignite something in the supine beauty. Illya's face seemed to alight, and a little vitality glowed in the Arctic blue eyes.

"Right, now it's my turn, gentlemen. Napoleon, please remain seated. You and Illya will listen to, and act upon, your Doctor's orders without complaint," Anton said. He smiled reassuringly as hazel and blue looked expectantly up at him. "We all know the drill," he continued. "You, Illya, want to leave Medical. You, Napoleon want to take him home, and I will be pleased to release Illya into your care as soon as I feel he is well enough to do so. Therefore you will take these tablets, Illya. They are a painkiller and sedative, and you will sleep for another few hours. Then you will feel a little more like attempting to eat, drink and use the bathroom. Napoleon will have time to go home, wash, shave and change and make any arrangements he needs."

Illya wanted to complain about sleeping again, but looking at Napoleon, the older man was smiling and nodding. He looked a little closer, the brunet did need to go home and clean up. The normally immaculate Napoleon Solo looked decidedly dishevelled.

"I will take them," Illya said. He accepted the assistance from Napoleon once more. "Can I go home today?" he asked around a yawn. After all, it would not do to give in too easily.

"You don't even know what today is," Napoleon replied fondly. "Rest, Illya, and I will be back soon."

"Good. That's good," the blond murmured.

As the two men watched Illya settle, the door opened and Mills re-entered. They both saw the flash of annoyance that flitted briefly across his face.

"Has Mr. Kuryakin been conscious?" he asked brusquely.

"He has, and now he's sleeping again," Anton replied amicably. "I have a few things to do, but I'll be back to check on him. Mr. Solo is going home and will duly return to collect Mr. Kuryakin. I would appreciate a word with you in my office before you leave, Mr. Solo," Anton concluded.

Sipping at the creamed coffee in Anton's office, Napoleon relaxed when he realized it was not Illya's health that Anton wanted to discuss. He looked with interest at the older man.

"I don't normally intervene in other people's lives, Napoleon, but I'm making an exception in this case," Anton said, giving the brunet a wry smile. "I did wonder if perhaps you and Illya had become a couple without divulging the information within the organisation because of Illya being such an intensely private person."

"Couple?" Napoleon almost choked on his coffee. But looking at Anton, there was only a small smile playing around the doctor's lips.

"I've seen the way you look at each other in that room," Anton said, his arm sketching a careless wave towards the door of his office. "So did Mills. When he realised you weren't an item, he seemingly decided your partner was fair game. Some of the bits of conversation I've caught suggest Mills is a very manipulative individual and takes unfair advantage of vulnerability."

"I was afraid to lose Illya," Napoleon confessed. "I worried that I'd lose his friendship and break our partnership if I overstepped the mark. I wondered if he was staying with me because he felt he had to, rather than wanted to."

The 'tsk' had him blink in surprise.

"You and I both know that Illya Kuryakin is a very intelligent man. For us to even presume he stays with you out of some sense of misguided loyalty would be insulting to that intelligence. From my perspective, Napoleon, he stays with you by choice. You know, I wasn't sure my suit would be welcomed by the love of my life, but we're coming up to our ruby anniversary in a few months," Anton added, a soft smile replacing the half-frown that had darkened the doctor's face.

"You never speak of your wife," Napoleon responded, a smile finally lighting his own saturnine features. "You must have found the right words for her."

"Him, Napoleon," Anton corrected gently. "Forty years ago, I finally let my heart do the talking. It wasn't easy, then, for us to be a couple. Times have moved on, but there are still closed minds and bigots with which to deal. I fear such will continue to be true in the future. But we love each other. We are each other's refuge when the world gets stormy. I have a suggestion," he said looking at the shocked brunet. "The organisation has a cabin that we have used a few times before."

Napoleon quickly recovered from the shock of Anton's revelation and focused on what the doctor was suggesting. When he sauntered from the room, his natural swagger was back, as was the disarming grin on his face that caused more than a couple of heads to turn. 

My head keeps spinnin',

I go to sleep and keep grinnin'

If this is just the beginnin'

My life is gonna be beautiful. (Lyrics: Ain't That A Kick In The Head?)

****

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine

That's amore (Lyrics: That's Amore)

Glancing across at his partner, Napoleon still wore a large grin. In the few days since he took Illya home, the blond had perked up considerably and was healing rapidly. He had pampered Illya as often as possible, but not yet spoken about his feelings. He was waiting until they went to the cabin that Anton had suggested they visit to recover.

The helicopter was descending. There was still a hike to the cabin from the drop-off point, but Illya had insisted he could cope with the walk, as it was not an arduous one. Napoleon could see the clearing and the rocky platform where the helicopter was going to land.

A few seconds later they had landed. Napoleon unfastened his seat belt, and jumped agilely out. He grinned as he watched Illya zip up his coat and pull his woollen cap lower before joining him. As a team they unloaded their backpacks and Napoleon's fishing gear.

"I'll pick you up Monday at twelve o'clock," the pilot said. "If there's any trouble, contact us. You can reach the river from here in about fifteen minutes or so. The cabin is another forty minutes thereafter. It's a straightforward walk and there's a clear path leading there. There have been a couple of snow flurries, but nothing too heavy. The cabin is fully stocked with food and drink. Enjoy."

"Thank you," Napoleon nodded and, holding up his thumb, he ducked back as the helicopter started to take off again. He watched it soar away and disappear behind the mountain ridge. He turned to see Illya perched on a rock, his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting his chin and the sun shining on his hair. He looked like an exotic woodland sprite, and Napoleon felt he was the luckiest man on Earth.

"Ready?" Illya asked, cocking his head to one side, so that the blond hair fell like a gold, silk curtain.

"More than," Napoleon replied. He helped Illya settle the smaller backpack, and he took the larger along with the fishing rods. They had not needed to bring much.

"Tell me again why I agreed to this," Illya said with a mock put-upon tone.

"Anton recommended some time away for rest and recuperation for both of us," Napoleon smiled. "Don't worry. I have my fishing to occupy my time. I am also weighed down with the science journals you wanted to read."

"You are indeed a veritable martyr," Illya smiled back. Napoleon's care and attention over the last few days had done more to help him heal than any number of doctor's pills and potions.

They walked together in the companionable silence that came with a long-established friendship. They both glanced around, appreciating the vista surrounding them. The murmur of a stream was heard as they reached a small stone outcrop. The water was running freely in a swiftly flowing crystal-clear brook that originated from the rocks falling in a diamond-glistening flow.


The New Beginning Affair



From where they stood they had an unobstructed view across the deep valley below them and of the snowy mountains beyond. The sun was still shining having come out from behind the previously ominous looking clouds, and its light reflected off the white-topped peaks. The water murmured and the wind rustled softly through the trees. The crisp-fresh air turned their breaths into puffs of cloud. High overhead a bird soared. Napoleon felt as if there was a special shine as he regarded the vista with appreciation.

"It's beautiful," Illya gasped. His voice tinged with reverence.

"Very beautiful," Napoleon agreed, although his eyes were transfixed on the blond beside him and not the landscape before him.

Soon Napoleon was sitting on the rocks, his line cast as he settled to catch their evening meal. Behind him, ensconced against a tree, and well wrapped, Illya was reading one of the journals Napoleon had brought. He kept his eye on the weather. Clouds were gathering, and their colour told him it was likely they held snow. He was mindful of the walk they still had and had no desire to subject his recovering partner to inclement weather for no good reason.

It took less than an hour for Napoleon to bag a couple of good-sized fish, and one really big beauty. Deciding that was more than enough he packed them away, and joined his partner. He smiled to see Illya so engrossed in his reading.

"Time to go, partner mine," he said. "I've caught us two days' worth of dinners," he crowed. "Or at least it would be if I had someone who didn't eat as much as you do," he added as Illya rose to stand beside him. The teasing was gentle. Illya's appetite was still less than Napoleon was entirely happy with, but it had improved. He would gladly sit and watch the blond devour all three fish.

"You said I should eat more," Illya countered. He gave a slight shiver. Sitting still for so long had lowered his temperature. He saw the concerned hazel eyes and smiled. "Just a little chilly," he said dismissively. "I'll warm up when we start moving."

"The fire will be the first priority when we get to the cabin," Napoleon stated. He was not letting Illya remain chilled.

By the time they reached the cabin, the snow was falling heavily and the wind had whipped up. Normally Napoleon would have no worries about Illya's constitution, but he was still recovering, and he kept glancing at his stoic partner. As soon as they got inside, Napoleon was a whirlwind of activity.

"I'll get a fire lit while you get out of those wet things. I asked for sets of warm clothing to be left here," Napoleon said, indicating the case between the plush settee and the laid fire.

"So well prepared," Illya smiled as Napoleon began the process of lighting the fire.

Napoleon smiled back, putting his hand briefly on Illya's and winced at its icy feel.

As the brunet tended to the fire, Illya opened the case and pulled out some of its contents. Checking the sizes quickly, he piled up thermal vests, thick-fleecy tops and sweatpants into two and then began to strip. He untied and pulled off his boots, leaving the thick socks that were mercifully still dry. Then the coat came off, followed by the sweater and finally the undershirt. His wet pants were trickier, and he had some difficulty pushing them off his chilled, damp legs. 

Sitting in front of the fireplace, the flames starting to settle and burn properly, Napoleon turned his head around to see the younger man undress. He licked his lips as Illya pulled down his boxers and stood fully naked, apart from thick, woolly socks, at a slight angle to the brunet. The smooth, pale skin was shiny and wet and Napoleon's eyes roved imperiously and possessively over the perfect body. He knew there were scars, just as he carried his own, but they did not detract from Illya's beauty.

The blond moved and the sway of Illya's genitals enthralled Napoleon. Apart from a few bed-baths, these were parts of his partner he had never truly touched. He prayed that everything would fall into place and not only would he get to touch, but to taste, be over, under and buried deeply in Illya's body, surrounded by the lithe blond. His stomach tightened.

Illya was truly beautiful; his skin taking on a rose-pink shine from the flames as he unconsciously stepped closer to Napoleon, drawn to the warmth of the fire. The crackle of flames made Napoleon turn his head round, and he concentrated on the fire as Illya re-dressed. He swallowed hard. It was too soon to make a move on his partner, but Napoleon was already certain that there would be no one else for him.

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you (Lyrics: Sway)

****

When you walk down in a dream 

but you know you're not Dreaming signore 

(Lyrics: That's Amore)

They enjoyed a meal of freshly grilled fish partnered with vegetables and garlic bread. Unlike his partner, he knew the contents of fridge and freezer because he had made the selections personally. As soon as he was happy with the fire, Napoleon had insisted that Illya stretch out on the settee and rest as he turned to matters of cooking. 

He had gutted and cleaned the fish and served them simply broiled with a knob of butter. As he put the used plates in the sink, he grinned happily. As pleased as he was at how much more Illya had managed, he still wanted his partner to eat more.

"Polya, are you trying to fatten me up?" Illya gasped as the older man placed a decadently-dark chocolate mousse before him. A candied rose petal was the only garnish, although Napoleon did place a small jug of cream at the table as he took his place opposite him.

"This weekend is about rest, recuperation and recovery," Napoleon said smiling. Along with me finally confessing my love, he added silently. He could tell by the appreciative gleam in Illya's eyes that the blond was delighted by the dessert. He watched mesmerised as Illya dipped a spoon into the chocolate fantasy and slowly slipped it past his lips. 

It was all he could do not to groan out loud as Illya's eyes closed in pleasure. Napoleon was forced to watch the blond's throat rippling as he swallowed the confection and then the innocent and erotic movements as Illya sucked at the spoon.

"It is very good," Illya murmured as he withdrew the spoon. "But I'm not sure I can eat it all."

"Eat as much as you're comfortable with," Napoleon replied. "It's a treat, don't overdo." He was more than pleased when Illya finally pushed the little ramekin away having eaten over half of the mousse. "Stretch out on the settee and I'll bring over some coffee."

"Where will you sit?" Illya asked as he rose from the kitchen table. "The cabin is very nice, but it seems only sparsely furnished.

"There's a nice thick rug in front of the fire," Napoleon replied casually. He could hardly admit at this stage that the cabin was designed for couples, rather than just good friends, which was why there were just two chairs at the solid wooden kitchen table and a single, but sumptuous settee in front of the fire. Illya had yet to see the bedroom, but they had shared a bed before. He hoped they would be sharing a bed regularly.

They didn't stay up much later, and Napoleon returned from his trip to the bathroom to be regarded quizzically by Illya as the blond stood staring at the king-sized bed. He wore a pair of black, brushed cotton pyjama pants that contrasted sharply with his smooth, pale skin.

"One bed?" he asked.

"Of course," Napoleon said matter-of-factly. "You're still recovering; I don't really want to be in another bedroom if you need me. There's more room in a bed this size, even with two of us, than there would be in a room with two single beds. We've shared before so it all worked out nicely." As he had been talking, Napoleon had stripped and donned a pair of brown silk pyjama bottoms. He tilted his head at the unmoving blond. "I've left you a glass of water, and your pills are there, " he said pointing to the table on the opposite side of the bed. "There are a couple of journals, too."

"Thank you," Illya said, his voice soft. "You take good care of me," he added as he padded to the bed and slipped beneath the thick moss-green covered duvet.

"I try, Illya," Napoleon said. "Sleep well, partner mine."

Napoleon lay for a long time just content to listen to Illya's rhythmic breathing. He did not know when he succumbed to sleep, but he did know what jolted him awake. Illya. Tossing restlessly, the blond was murmuring in Russian. Listening to the fractured words, Napoleon quickly realised his partner was reliving their last mission, but this time Illya had not managed to save him and was begging Napoleon not to die.

"Shh, Illusha, I'm here, it's alright," Napoleon soothed, taking the weakly thrashing body into his arms. Illya was shivering slightly, but his skin was hot and Napoleon wondered if his partner was slightly fevered. Unthinkingly, the older man pulled the slighter form closer, Illya's soft skin contrasting with hard, honed muscle beneath. It took a moment for him to realise that his crooning hum had continued, as had his placing chaste kisses to Illya's brow, while the man he sought to comfort had woken and was looking at him with eyes filled with awe and hope.

"Napasha," Illya said, his voice hesitant. "You...love me?"

Napoleon had been more interested in comforting his partner then taking note of what he had said. He smiled down at the lithe blond. It felt so right, so damn good, to be holding Illya this way.

"I love you," he said simply. Anton had been correct. It suddenly seemed the easiest thing to say, and the blinding smile from the younger man, eloquent in its silence, told him it was also the right thing to say.

Moving slowly, Napoleon lowered his head and claimed Illya's lips in a gentle kiss. He groaned as he licked at the barely parted seam, and Illya opened to him like a flower eager for the sun. When they parted, they were both panting softly and smiling widely.

"I never dared hope," Illya whispered, his slender hand reaching to caress Napoleon's face.

The older man leaned into the touch, marvelling at the sensation of the calloused fingertips running over his cheek.

"I've wasted such a long time, Illusha," Napoleon sighed.

"Then do not waste any more," Illya begged. "Make love to me, please."

At the plea, Napoleon could think of doing nothing else. He moved away from his lover-to-be and removed his and Illya's pyjama pants, groaning deeply at the hard evidence of the blond's desire for him. He had seen the lithe body naked many times before, but never aroused and needy for him. Lying alongside the blond, Napoleon began to bathe the inside of Illya's ear with tiny swipes of his tongue and nibbled teasingly at the earlobe. 

Napoleon gently manoeuvred Illya as he continued his exploration of the body that he was finally, enticingly allowed to openly caress. His tongue's journey advanced, gliding down the marmoreal flesh of Illya's bared throat. The older man felt the primal need to mark that which was his. Pausing in his oral explorations, he fastened his teeth onto the pale skin and bit down, sucking hard. The chant of his name and the bucking of Illya's hips sent bolts of lust and desire to his already dangerously throbbing erection.

Napoleon's mouth eased away and he looked with primitive satisfaction at the red mark in his wake. He intended to leave several such visual claims before the weekend was over. Detouring briefly, he took advantage of his proximity to Illya's mouth with several quick thrusts of his tongue into the hot, wet cavern that he was already addicted to. Napoleon's right hand slid into the silken, blond hair holding Illya in place for a final, deep-throated kiss. 

"I want to see how much you want me," Napoleon ground out as his lust-filled eyes feasted on the trim, toned body revealed to his hungry sight. Illya's nipples were peaked and begging, the pale pink nubs surrounded by more dusky areolae. The younger man's shaft was hard and crimson-flushed against his abdomen. 

A small silvery pool of pre-come caught Napoleon's attention and he assiduously licked it dry, relishing his lover's intimate taste. He wanted Illya in every way possible, but had no intention of taking Illya so quickly. They were both too ready to explode, and he wanted to enjoy a long session of love-making when he finally breached the beautiful blond.

The feel of Napoleon's intense stare as it traversed down his body to rest on his erection made Illya's body flush darker with desire. Coupled with the sight of Napoleon's solid, perfectly-muscled, olive-toned body standing proudly erect, Illya began to pant with need and writhed impatiently to incite Napoleon into moving. 

"Pasha," Illya moaned softly. He watched, wide-eyed, as Napoleon moved, spreading Illya's legs, and kneeling between them. The long, thick shaft of the older man seemed to point unerringly where it desired to be, and Illya's rod jerked in reaction. 

As Napoleon leaned forward to take one of his nipples in his mouth, Illya gasped as their rampant flesh brushed together for the first time. He reached forward as he arched his back, his hand stroking over his lover's skin as he urged Napoleon to take his nipple deeper.

The feel of Illya's hands on his body caused Napoleon to pause. Then his tongue resumed its exploration of Illya's neck, his collarbone and back down to the alluring nipples. He lapped at each in turn and then focused on the left nub, biting it gently before he took it into his mouth and began to suck earnestly. 

The sensation of Napoleon's teeth on his nipple shot flames of arousal straight into Illya's groin. His hands petted restlessly over Napoleon's head, neck and shoulders as his head rolled slowly from side-to-side. 

"Never felt anything like this. Love you, Napasha," he moaned.

As his partner, closest friend, and a top agent, Napoleon knew Illya's past love life. Or rather the lack thereof. Illya's body had been a tool in the hands of those he worked for before joining U.N.C.L.E. He was used sexually when they deemed it necessary, and the blond had never sought intimate company since coming to America. As far as Illya had been concerned it had been 'Too much trouble over something comparatively unnecessary.' It was now going to be Napoleon's privilege, and very great pleasure, to teach Illya just what he had been missing, and introduce him to the joys of making love.

He felt Illya's fingers dig into his buttocks as his tongue, lips and teeth continued to lick, bite, and suck on his lover's nipple. Illya's breathing began to speed up as Napoleon's fingers began to play with the neglected nub, tugging and pinching with masterful precision. The sound of Illya's harsh breathing had Napoleon angle his head to see his lover's face. The sight was enough to have him abandon the reddened nipples and cover Illya's swollen, glistening lips with his own, delving greedily into the hot wetness that had the fire of desire blazing through his veins. 

Illya's mouth opened wider in silent invitation. His Arctic blue eyes were wide with anticipation as Napoleon pressed the lower half of his body solidly between Illya's legs, spreading them even further apart as he slid his aroused shaft fully against Illya's. His lover's hands were on either side of Illya's head supporting his weight as his smouldering sienna eyes held Illya's in an intimate gaze. As he locked eyes with his lover, Napoleon began to slowly and deliberately thrust against Illya's body. 

His desire and arousal spiralling dizzily, Illya felt he was drowning in an ocean of hot, deep, possessive kisses and the incredible friction between their bodies. He began to move his own hips desperately in response to Napoleon's thrusts. He gave a choked sound of denial which quickly became a sound of encouragement as their bodies parted so that his lover's sinfully talented mouth could begin moving down his body towards his aching shaft. 

Illya's eyes were darkened with desire, and he watched enthralled as his lover lowered his head and licked just the tip of his swollen flesh. A strong hand at its base was squeezing to ensure Illya did not come at the first swipe of Napoleon's tongue. He groaned, trying to thrust, but found his lover's other hand pressed against his hip, holding him in place as the older man slowly enveloped Illya's rod deep into his mouth.

Wet heat and suction seemed to sear his almost-virginal flesh. Illya had never been the recipient of such intimate sexual pleasure. He had always been the giver, always forced to give his body to the other, to let them take what they wanted. It was so different with Napoleon. Illya wanted to spread himself wide, wanted, no needed, to feel the bigger man inside him. 

He whimpered helplessly as Napoleon's mouth moved everywhere. A swirling tongue, sucking lips and nipping teeth erotically tortured his erection. A hand added to the sensual pleasure, a thumb tracing the pulsing vein from base to tip before stroking him. The same thumb pressing against his slit, milking him. Fingers, Napoleon's fingers, wet and slick with Illya's own fluid sliding down his shaft once more, and then his lover's mouth returned. Napoleon took just the head, encircling it with his teeth and, as their eyes met once more, beginning to gnaw lightly. 

"Your mouth... first... only..." Illya tried to convey his thoughts, but they sounded disjointed even to his own ears. However, the smile from the older man was beyond eloquent, and Illya had sentience enough to realise just how easily they had always understood one another.

A guttural sound broke free from Illya's throat as Napoleon stroked his sensitive perineum, and then ghosted a feather-light touch to his sac, before its contents were rolled and squeezed with precision. He was very close to losing control. He whimpered again, soft words spilling in Russian from his lips as Napoleon licked drop after drop of pre-come 

As his sex was once more engulfed to the root, Illya felt Napoleon's hand on his hip ease its pressure and he began to thrust. His words became unintelligible as his flesh moved in and out of warm, velvet wetness. Napoleon's hand was back at his sac, fondling gently and, when Illya heard- -felt the older man hum, all coherent thought was lost. His hips pumped frantically as he approached his climax, and he exploded into Napoleon's ravenous maw.

"Pasha!"

Napoleon could feel the incipient orgasm building in his beautiful blond. Illya's eyes had closed and the slender hands had fisted into the bedding as Illya fought to retain some semblance of control. The odd word of Russian he knew, interspersed with those he did not, added a surreal, arousing effect for the brunet. He could barely wait for Illya to reach his crescendo, wanting to see the last of the blond's infamous self-control finally shatter; to be the one that melted the Ice Prince.

Humming his pleasure, his eyes were transfixed by the incredible expression in Illya's darkened-blue eyes as they opened at the moment of the blond's release. They glittered and shone with love as Illya began to shudder deliciously beneath him. The blond's seed was a mix of saltiness and sweetness, and Napoleon knew he would never tire of the taste. He swallowed most and let the last pulse onto Illya's body as he moved to stretch out over the sated blond.

He used the slickness provided by Illya's seed to thrust against the replete blond with increasing fervour, faster and harder against Illya's groin until he felt his testicles tighten. Capturing Illya's lips briefly, he let the blond taste himself in his mouth as his tongue thrust with the same urgency. As his climax swept through him, he broke the kiss and bellowed his completion as his seed branded the blond's body as his. 




The New Beginning Affair



Napoleon collapsed carefully onto Illya, keeping the bulk of his weight away from the blond's healing wound, confident Illya could bear the pressure for a few moments before they would need to part. He smiled into the sweat-damp neck as Illya's fingers carded through his hair and soft, crooning words of love and devotion came in a mix of Russian and English. Unthinkingly, Napoleon began to hum wordlessly as he had so many times before when at Illya's side. 

"I love you, Illya," he finally whispered.

"I love you, Napoleon," Illya said, smiling as Napoleon finally rolled them to lie on their sides, facing each other. "You were always there," he added softly.

"Where?" asked Napoleon, uncertain what his lover meant.

"At my side. When I was hurt. I remember when I was in that place between consciousness and sleep, I heard you hum. You always hummed, and it always let me know I was safe. I just never realised until now."

"I never abandoned you, Illya," Napoleon said. "And I never will," he added, drawing the lithe body back into his arms where it belonged.

Illya leaned willingly into the embrace to press his lips to Napoleon's, putting all the love that he had ever felt for the man who had been his partner and best friend and who was now his lover.

"I want you to make love with me, Pasha," Illya whispered. "To feel you inside me, your seed inside me."

The love that shone from the turquoise depths made Napoleon's breath catch in wonder as their kiss broke apart and Illya's words had his softened sex twitching with anticipation. Illya was his now and the brunet was never letting him go. He settled Illya to rest against his broader frame, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around the blond.

"Sleep with me, Illusha. We have plenty of time," he husked. He wanted to be inside the blond, but he could feel how relaxed Illya was, and it had already been an exhausting day. He smiled as he heard soft sounds of sleep emanate with startling swiftness from his beloved. There was a whole, brand new day ahead of them that would herald the start of their lives as a couple, and Napoleon could think of no better way of using it than making love to his Illya. 

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more (Lyrics: Sway)

****

We don't need a flowery season

Love is love December or June

We can make our own weather

Just put us together

Me 'n you 'n the moon

(Lyrics: Me 'n You 'n The Moon)

When Illya awoke next, he could smell the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee making his nose twitch appreciatively. As he eased himself into a sitting position, Napoleon came into the bedroom carrying a tray.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," the brunet teased. "I thought I needed to wake you with a kiss."

"I'd like that," Illya whispered shyly. It had been much easier to be intimate when they had been sharing the bed. However, it seemed Napoleon had no such worries. Illya felt his body yield instantly to the older man. The kiss seemed to send tingles of love and desire along every cell and synapse.

"I love you,' Napoleon whispered as the kiss ended and he dropped an affectionate kiss to the tip of Illya's nose. 

"I love you, Pasha," Illya smiled. He looked with appreciation at the tray. "Such a romantic," he added, genuinely touched. The tray contained a small crystal vase with a single red rose. Freshly squeezed orange juice was alongside a mug of the fragrant coffee. A sourdough muffin had been toasted and split and was topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon and topped with caviar. Finally there was a small bowl of fresh strawberries, and Illya knew they would have been macerated in good balsamic vinegar. 

"I love you, Illusha," Napoleon smiled. "I'll make breakfast in bed for you as often as I can, my love," he added. 

"What about you?" Illya asked.

"I'll get my tray, and we can eat together," the older man smiled.

It was a perfect breakfast. Napoleon had eggs Benedict with crispy bacon and was delighted that Illya snagged some of the maple-syrup coated pieces he had sitting on his plate, and he allowed Illya to feed him some strawberries. It seemed that his lover's appetite was returning to normal, which relaxed the brunet even more.

"Thank you," Illya said when both trays of food were consumed.

"You're welcome," Napoleon smiled. He placed both trays on the floor and slipped back into bed, drawing Illya into his arms and kissing him breathless. "You can get up and come stretch out on the couch with those journals of yours. When breakfast has been digested, I'll run us a bath and then we can come back to bed," he said. The last of his words spoken in a voice that dripped seduction and desire in equal measure

"Da, Pasha, da," Illya murmured, pressing against the older man. As real as it felt, Illya needed Napoleon making love to him, being inside him, before the blond would finally be certain he was not going to wake up and find it was a dream.

Yawning and stretching, Illya realised he had fallen asleep reading one of his journals. He gave a soft groan wondering if Napoleon would keep his word about a dip in the hot tub the cabin boasted before finally making love. Listening carefully, he eased to his feet, smiling as he approached the bathroom as the sounds of running water and Napoleon's soft voice humming a song whose words the Russian did not know. 

"Finally, Napoleon grinned. "Ready for a nice, hot bath?"

"With you?" Illya asked, unable to keep a pink stain from colouring his cheeks. He was not used to such tender intimacy. Napoleon was always the one who knew what to say, what to do. His blush deepened as Napoleon grinned wolfishly.

"If that's what you'd like, caro mio," Napoleon said softly, drawing the lithe blond into his arms. He had always thought he would feel naked without his gun. However, it seemed that he felt more naked when Illya was elsewhere other than in his arms.

"Yes," Illya whispered, nuzzling at Napoleon's cheek before daringly allowing his tongue to trace the dimple in the older man's chin. It had always held a fascination for him and the soft murmur of appreciation helped chase away some of his persisting embarrassment. He kissed his way up Napoleon's jaw and pressed his lips to his lover's. As the older man's mouth opened, deepening the kiss, Illya's tongue slipped inside to dance with its mate's. He sighed happily as the kiss ended, resting his forehead against the bigger man's.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, Illusha. Now you go wait by the fire. The bath will take some time to fill. I'll come and get you."

Illya sat and tried to focus on the journal, but the words became an unintelligible blur. His body trembled with a mix of anticipation and arousal. He so wanted this, but was equally afraid he would do or say the wrong thing. 

He wished he had a repertoire of sweet words to use or knew the kind of tender touches to bring Napoleon pleasure. He had simply been expected to get on his hands and knees or his stomach to be taken. Occasionally there had been one or two who wanted to see his face, but at no time had any touches on his body been anything other than a way to show dominance over him or hold him in place. He took a deep breath, held it and released it slowly. Napoleon knew all this about him and still wanted him. If he did not relax he would ruin everything anyway.

"Ready, caro mio?"

The endearment melted the last of Illya's concerns. Napoleon loved him. He moved over to the smiling brunet and wound his arms around the older man's neck.

"I love you," he declared before taking Napoleon's mouth in a thorough kiss. He laughed softly as the kiss broke and Napoleon swept him into his arms. Each of them had been carried by the other during their partnership but never like this. Daringly he nipped and nuzzled at the older man's neck as he was carried to the bathroom. 

They undressed each other before slipping into the hot water. After settling side-by-side, they began to kiss, their hands roaming freely over skin that had hitherto been forbidden to touch. It seemed as easy and as necessary as breathing to Illya, that he obeyed as he was guided to straddle Napoleon's thighs. He moaned softly as the older man's dependable hands swept imperiously over his body. 

He felt calloused fingers slide over his shoulders, down his back to grasp proprietarily at his buttocks. One finger teased the sensitive skin between his spread cheeks. As it did, Napoleon's mouth joined in the amorous assault. Illya could scarcely believe that he was the wantonly writhing and moaning creature in Napoleon's arms as the brunet began to nip and suckle each of his nipples as the erotically tormenting finger brushed over his hidden entrance.

In his turn, Illya was busy tracing the contours of Napoleon's chest, the toned pectorals and teasingly pinching the espresso nubs that peaked at his touches.

As so often in their partnership, both men moved at the same moment each to gaze into the eyes of the other. As smouldering sienna and impassioned indigo met, they spoke as one:

"Bed."

Smiling and kissing, they quickly dried themselves, both equally eager to take the next step in their new intimate relationship. Napoleon was inordinately pleased to see Illya was every bit as eager as he was. He had thought he would have to woo the blond gently, but it was as if Illya had undergone an epiphany.

The blond was still the shyer of the two and that brought out Napoleon's protective streak, which was already well-honed when it came to his partner. However, when they had been in the bath Illya was no longer passive. He gave a wolfish grin as Illya led the way to their bed. He was certain that as their intimacy grew, he would find his lover every bit as passionate and intense as himself and relished the prospect. 

As they stretched out together on the bed, they melted against each other, kissing deeply and languorously, resisting the urge to speed things up. Napoleon moved over the smaller man, groaning softly as he settled between smooth, splayed thighs and kissed Illya's hair and forehead, nuzzling behind his ear and neck. He let his hedonistic streak take over, surrendering to its demands and enjoying his lover's scent and the taste and texture of his skin. He brought Illya's hands up to either side of the pillow, their fingers entwined, and squeezed rhythmically as if in time to their heartbeats.

He caressed the inside of Illya's arm with his lips, keeping their arousal simmering without crossing the line into the irresistible demand to reach their zenith. The sounds of Illya's soft breathing and tiny noises of pleasure made his body shiver. He wanted this to be so good for his mate.

Licking at the soft, warm skin of Napoleon's shoulder, Illya then sought out his lover's lips and initiated another slow, time-stopping kiss. The slow build-up gave him time to savour his lover and allowed them to indulge in each other, all of their senses dedicated to the giving and receiving of sensual pleasure. 

Shifting his hands, Illya's mapped the toned muscles of Napoleon's back and gradually swept lower to drift daringly over the curve of his lover's buttocks. When he instinctively applied more pressure, Napoleon's pelvis tilted forward until he was slowly grinding against him.

As if once again reading his lover's thoughts, Napoleon raised his head now to look at Illya. This gaze was yet another expression, and it nearly took Illya's breath away. It was hot, determined, full of need, desire and love and it sent a jolt of searing heat to his groin making his shaft throb dangerously. 

"Illusha," Napoleon's voice was low, sensual husk. "I need you, let me love you," he added with a growl. 

Had Napoleon spoken and looked as he did now before his gentle declaration of love, and the time they had already spent together, it might have sent Illya running. To know that he was the object of the older man's so-ardent desire would have been almost overwhelming. But now the blond was every bit as eager for them to take the next step. He wanted them united, wanted Napoleon inside him, coming in him. The thought alone made him writhe wantonly against the bigger male.

Illya had to swallow before he could speak. 

"Da," he whispered. He raised a hand up to stroke the plane of Napoleon's jaw. "I want that, too." 

The words seemed to assure Napoleon. He took each of Illya's hands, and placed them on either side of the blond's head which ensured he had full and unimpeded access to the tiny pink buds of Illya's nipples. They were treated to warm licks and sucking, and Illya whimpered as Napoleon's teeth gently captured one nipple. He held it carefully, his tongue lapping at imprisoned flesh. 

As Napoleon released one throbbing, peaked nipple, he moved to the other and then Illya was left whirling in the resulting sensation of large hands seemingly everywhere, caressing, massaging, stroking. Napoleon's mouth followed where his hands led, drawing out Illya's responses. He caught sight of Napoleon's face as they briefly locked gazes between kisses. Desire and need, love and tenderness, all so evident, the brunet open as he had never been before.

Desperate to lavish some of the same pleasurable sensations on his lover, Illya rolled them and smiled to himself at the deep groan as he mouthed along Napoleon's chest. A hand cupped his head, holding it in place, as Illya continued, suckling each dark nub. 

"Good," Napoleon managed to gasp. 

Becoming braver, Illya reached down and touched Napoleon's shaft. It leaped readily, eagerly into his hand, hot and hard and obviously keen for attention. A gentle sound of encouragement from Napoleon electrified him. Tentatively at first, growing in confidence, he began to stroke his lover. From the sounds that Napoleon made, Illya felt he was doing a good job on his self-imposed mission. It was erotic in a different way. Giving pleasure was as important as receiving it, which Illya had known, but bestowing it on your soul mate raised it to dizzying heights. Excitement and desire flowed through him as Napoleon seemed to grow even harder at his touches. 

He gave a soft gasp as Napoleon's hands covered his and pulled them away twisting so Illya was rolled onto his back again. Illya looked at him, a bit confused by the abrupt movement and then saw the gleam in his lover's dark eyes. 

"I have to see you," Illya said, certain he knew what Napoleon was silently asking, it was important to him, it would make it real to see Napoleon as the older man entered him, loved him. 

"Yes," Napoleon agreed with a kiss. 

"Make love to me?" Illya invited, leaving no doubt he was ready. 

Not breaking their gaze, Napoleon retrieved the lube he had left on the bedside table. He sucked the flesh between Illya's shoulder and throat, stroking it with his tongue. As his mouth worried that one spot of succulent flesh, he stroked slick fingers down the crevice between Illya's cheeks, feeling the small opening as he brushed past. Illya shuddered under his hands. 

He carefully rubbed over the tightly furled flesh, desperate to keep control and make this good for his partner. His fingers strayed lower to Illya's sac, playing with the little ovals it contained as he tenderly squeezed them together and apart.

"Here I come," Napoleon warned as he began to press with a single digit. There was the expected initial resistance and then he was inside his lover.

At the words, Illya shivered but nodded eagerly. He felt the gentle pressure as the finger pressed steadily, seeking entry, and then slid inside him with comparative ease. When Napoleon began moving the finger in and out, it added another layer of delight, and Illya purred his pleasure. 

Napoleon was careful with his preparation, pleased he had spent the time to ensure Illya was so relaxed. It meant he had readily accepted the desired intruder. His finger was moving easily and so he knew it was time to up the stakes. 

"Two, caro mio," Napoleon whispered, chasing the words with his tongue into Illya's ear to a low moan. He could feel the tight walls and incendiary heat and could scarcely wait to feel them around his eager penis. He and Illya were both steadily leaking pre-come, and Napoleoon kept tight control to ensure he did not come simply from readying his beautiful lover. He ventured deeper and found the little nub he sought. 

"Napasha," Illya cried out at the jolt of pure fire that flared hotly through him. 

Napoleon grinned as he pressed on the sweet spot again. Illya was incredibly responsive and he now had visions of seeing his lover come thrashing wildly beneath him. Erotic, sensual fantasies flashed through his mind. Fantasies he wanted to realise, that featured Illya in myriad positions, coming again and again, taking Napoleon with him. Certain his lover was ready, Napoleon eased three fingers into his molten heat. 

It was tight and Napoleon kept his fingers absolutely still, waiting for permission to move as his eyes searched Illya's face. The blond's eyes had closed and then they opened again to lock with his once more. As they did Illya moved his hips a fraction and Napoleon slowly moved his hand so that his index finger found his lover's sweet spot again. 

"Oh, Pasha," Illya moaned.

Feeling the tight muscle relax, Napoleon pressed forward once more. He worked his fingers back and forth, pumping Illya gently, trying to get him used to the sensation and ready for something longer and thicker than his fingers. After a minute or two Napoleon decided Illya was ready. The blond was constantly writhing, begging Napoleon to move quicker. 

"Ready for me, caro mio?" he asked, giving his lover the decision.

Illya nodded, trying to spread his legs wider as he watched Napoleon coat his rampant flesh. He moaned as Napoleon moved into position between his thighs. He was panting as if he had run a marathon, and small tremors of anticipation coursing through him. He accepted the kiss from his lover as Napoleon lined his shaft with Illya's stretched, glistening portal. 

"Love you, Illusha," Napoleon whispered against the silken blond hair. He grasped the younger man's hips to hold him in place, and began to ease forward. The stretched entrance blossomed under the cautious probing, giving way, and Napoleon entered his lover in a slow, careful motion. 

As the hard flesh possessed him, Illya hissed as previously relaxed muscles tensed. He smiled shakily as Napoleon immediately stilled and, after a couple of heartbeats, he relaxed again. 

At the easing of the tight grip of Illya's body, Napoleon moved again. It took a moment or two, but he groaned his victory as he felt his groin press against Illya's and his shaft was fully immersed in his lover's heat. 

The flesh completely buried inside him twitched, and Illya marvelled at the sensation. He deliberately tightened his internal muscles eliciting a deep moan from the man above him. At the unconscious encouragement, Napoleon groaned and then began to move. The undulations of his lover's hips immediately stopped Illya's movements. Instead he cried aloud his lover's name as Napoleon shifted his weight to change his angle and began to massage his prostate again. It was incalculably more intense than Napoleon's fingers.

The sounds that spilled from Illya's lips made Napoleon thrust harder and faster. Ensuring he continued to hit his lover's sweet spot, he reached to pump Illya's revived shaft. 

"Come for me, Illusha," he husked, making a very slow and deliberate thrust that rubbed Illya's prostate firmly. "Love you so much." 

For the first time in his life, Illya let go of the last of his tenuous control, and screamed as he came. He felt himself milked as his body convulsed with the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced. As he began to spiral down he was aware of Napoleon's body thrusting frantically as the bigger man reached his own crescendo. 




The New Beginning Affair



A primal bellow accompanied liquid heating bathing his inner walls, jetting against his already over-sensitised prostate. He came a second time as Napoleon's seed possessed him, marking and claiming him. The thought alone made Illya go weak as his body was filled.

His world went grey as Napoleon's mouth found his bared throat biting and sucking once more as the last of his semen pulsed into Illya. He lay unmoving, moaning his loss as Napoleon slowly eased from his sated body. Dimly Illya was aware of a soft tongue licking over his stomach and chest and taking his satiated shaft into a warm, wet cavern to clean. He gladly snuggled into strong arms, laying his head against Napoleon's chest.

"Love you, Illusha," Napoleon murmured, holding his mate tightly.

"Love you, Pasha," Illya replied. It took the last of his reserves and he gave himself into the irresistible pull of post-coital lethargy.

Only you have the magic technique

When we sway I go weak (Lyrics: Sway)

****

Just for the chance to love and live for

You, angel baby, you

(Angel baby) you're mine forever (Lyrics: Because You're Mine)

The time had flown in the chalet; already it was Monday morning. They had packed everything to take back with them early to ensure they could take advantage of one more chance to love before they had to leave their idyll.

They were outside, breathing in the cool, crisp, clean air. Illya's head rested on Napoleon's shoulder, and the brunet's arm was possessively around the blond's waist. They stared out at the perfect vista.

"It's so beautiful. I hate to leave it," Illya sighed softly.

"It will always hold a special place in my heart, too," Napoleon murmured, nuzzling against the blond's soft hair. "However, I'm sure I can find us a similar place in Aspen that we can visit on a regular basis. One with more comfort, too," he added.

"But..." Illya began, turning in Napoleon's arms to face his lover.

"No buts," Napoleon said decisively, stopping any objections by claiming the blond's lush, pink lips for his own. "What's the point of my having so much money if I never spend it on things to bring us pleasure? I can easily afford it, Illusha," he added quietly. "It's what I want to do. A whole new life for us, retired from field word, you in the Labs and me in training and recruitment. Of course, I'll frighten the new intakes by having them take on an innocuous, bespectacled scientist from the Labs during their first couple of weeks," he grinned, ignoring the indignant, spluttered response from his lover.

"It sounds too good to be true," Illya murmured, nuzzling against the broader body.

"I think we deserve it," Napoleon replied softly. "I have the best thing that has ever happened to me in my arms, and I intend to provide the best for the best. I want to give you everything I can, just because I can. I love you, Illusha."

"And I you," Illya responded instantly, claiming Napoleon's lips.

They kissed with the same single-minded intensity that had ensured their success during many missions. Each man determined to give as much pleasure as possible to the other. Their tongues met and swept back and forth, tasting and teasing, dancing to music only they could hear. They parted only when breathing became a necessity.

"Bed....now...." Napoleon panted his hazel eyes dark and demanding, blazing with love for the slender man in his arms. He groaned pulling Illya back against his chest for another soul-deep, all encompassing kiss. Grasping the blond's hand, he began to head to the cabin. 

"Illya, want you, love you," Napoleon chanted as his fingers worked deftly on undoing buttons and zippers, hands decisively removing the unwanted layers of clothing that separated him from what he wanted.

They sank back onto the bed, limbs entangling effortlessly as if they had been lovers for years, not days. Napoleon moved over the sleek body beneath him, covering Illya, moaning his lover's name over and over in a chant of passion and desire. 

He whispered his mate's name as a hand explored the smooth, warm skin of the lightly trembling body beneath him. He caressed the satiny expanse under his fingers, stroking, probing, reclaiming territory as his mouth devouring his lover's. His tongue probed deeply into the blissfully warm, wet cavern behind Illya's perfect lips, the taste threatening to drown him as Illya shuddered delightfully in his arms. 

"Napoleon, Pasha, love....." Illya whispered. He had simply accepted the undeniable fact that making love with Napoleon reduced him almost to incoherency. His arms wrapped around the large, hungry body covering his. His hands caressed the toned, muscled back. His fingers traced mindless patterns across the now sweat-sheened skin. 

Moaning softly, he arched his body up towards the older man as Napoleon fed eagerly on his exposed throat. The brunet's lips, teeth and tongue combined with precision on Illya's vulnerable flesh to raise another beautifully painful mark of possession as Illya cried out his encouragement. This was the kind of pain the blond would beg for if he could form intelligible sentences.

"More," was all he could husk.

"Mine," Napoleon growled, licking the vivid mark he had just left. His pelvis was grinding slowly and sensually against his lover's. He moved his hand to pinch and tug an innocent peaked nipple. "Mine, mine, my Illya," he growled, chanting the words repeatedly. He declared his possession in words as he had in actions. He mouthed at the blond's shoulder, nipping proprietarily.

"Yours," Illya groaned in willing capitulation. His fingers ran down the taut muscles of Napoleon's back. His hands cupped the firm buttocks that flexed and relaxed as Napoleon moved against him. He arched and thrust against his lover, pulling him closer, gasping in delirious pleasure as Napoleon's lips trailed down his neck. The older man painted a trail of kisses across his chest, before sharp teeth nipped and nibbled appreciatively at the nipples that tightened tightly at his mate's touches.

"Pasha," Illya whimpered the single word, his hands gently framing Napoleon's head as the older man growled, deep in his throat. Illya cried out as Napoleon began sucking roughly at his throbbing nipple. His lover's teeth were nipping at the sensitive flesh of the one reddened bud as a hand slithered across the damp skin of his chest to tug, tease and twist the other into a frenzied state of arousal. 

Napoleon began to move down Illya's body, kissing, nipping and licking. His tongue lapped greedily at the sweat from Illya's skin, feeding feverishly on the pale expanse of silken flesh. He growled triumphantly as he felt Illya gasp and surrender everything to him, the blond's legs spreading eagerly as Napoleon's lips brushed across the aching swell between his lover's legs. His hands caressing his mate's hips, delving underneath the writhing body to palm taut buttocks as his mouth hungrily took hard flesh growling in an animalistic need as he began to feed on Illya's hard, damp and throbbing organ. 

The sound from Illya's lips was a near scream of hedonistic pleasure as the older man's amorous assault threatened to overwhelm him. There was an insistent, sucking mouth and probing tongue on his shaft, and hands that stroked his ball sac, kneaded his flexing nether cheeks or ghosted maddeningly over his hidden entrance. He could feel Napoleon's throat as the older man swallowed the pre-come that flowed freely, which had an additional eroticism all its own. 

Illya moaned and thrashed as much as his lover would allow, his fingers skittering across slick, hot skin as he tried to find some kind of anchor against the maelstrom of sensation that Napoleon created. He pulled the older man closer, crying out his name as his hips pumping up against Napoleon's shoulders, the heated sounds of unbridled passion rending the cool of the morning air.

In response Napoleon sucked Illya deeper, his tongue licking at the throbbing flesh in his mouth, drinking Illya's essence and savouring it as if it was fine wine. The Russian's flavour had been addictive from the moment the American had tasted it. He felt it flow across his tongue like honey as Illya gasped his name, coming in his mouth in hard spurts before the blond collapsed back into the bedding, moaning unintelligible sounds of passion and love. Sucking gently, to ensure not a drop was missed, Napoleon finally let the sated organ slide from his mouth.

"Pasha," Illya gasped, his body still shuddering with pleasure as Napoleon moved up over him once more, pressing hot, insistent kisses against his lips. "Pasha now, take me now, please." 

"Illya, my love, caro mio," Napoleon murmured feverishly as captured his lover's lips in another deep kiss. He thrust his tongue into Illya's mouth as his hand delved between Illya's hot, sweat-dampened thighs. He rubbed over the blond's perineum, savouring the pleas that spilt from kiss-bruised lips, before finally drenching his fingers with lubricant, carelessly spilling it over his hand and the bed in his haste.

Eager to join with his mate, Napoleon pressed against Illya's tightly furled flesh, groaning as it opened, and his finger submerged deeply into the pulsating channel. He gave a feral growl of primal satisfaction as his mate cried out, the lithe body pressing desperately against him as Illya tried to ride the single digit, pleading for more. 

"More, Pasha."

The older man heard Illya's gasp, and he responded by thrusting a second finger into his lover. He groaned openly at the sensation of the hot, tight channel clenching frantically around him, and the rocking of Illya's pelvis. His free hand pushed against Illya's thighs, spreading them further. He sank between them with another sound from deep in his chest that reflected the way in which he skirted the edge of animalistic lust and devout passion. 

Napoleon growled softly, mouthing at Illya's sweat-damp skin, licking, kissing and nipping, feeling the tight resistance of Illya's body as it struggled to accommodate his fingers. As he added a third, Illya's heartfelt pleas were like molten lava, searing, scorching, impressing the blond's need on the older man and inciting his own desire almost beyond his control. 

Illya writhed with wanton abandon, barely recognising himself. All of his much vaunted and infamous self-control had evaporated under the heat of Napoleon's desire. His scrabbling hands found the lubricant and, smearing some into his palm, he massaging it over Napoleon's pulsating hardness and spread his legs wider.

"Now, Napasha, now, please, he begged, pulling Napoleon down and devouring his mouth in a searing kiss. 

"Illya, love, caro," Napoleon groaned the endearment as he sank down onto the beloved body. He guided himself between Illya's legs, slowly entering him. Twin cries rent the air as Illya arched cat-like against him, impaling himself onto Napoleon as he thrust as deeply into his lover's body as he could. Napoleon gasped as Illya's body consumed him, taking him into the tightest, sweetest heaven he had ever known. The emotions they shared seemed to almost vibrate the air around them with their intensity causing him to impel himself into Illya with a desperation that shook them both to their core. 

"Napoleon, I have you, I love you," Illya moaned. He wrapped his arms around Napoleon's shoulders and his legs around the brunet's trim waist. He gave a cry of sheer bliss, arching his hips to take Napoleon as deeply as the bigger man could go.

"Yes...in you...love...mine..." Napoleon's words were fragmented snatches of his thoughts. He drove into Illya passionately. Their lips melded as their tongues danced in a sensual ballet and their hips moved to the same unheard and ancient music. It would have been impossible to know where the one ended and the other began, they were as one being as they cried out each other's names

Growls and groans escaped Napoleon as their passion increased. He was struggling to contain and prolong the need that boiled in their blood. He could feel his own, knowing instinctively it was the same for his lover. It was hurtling to the surface, incinerating everything in its path. It was not to be denied, 

It screamed to the surface, along every cell and synapse as he plunged repeatedly into Illya's shaking body. He was striking the blond's sweet spot with every thrust, and he could feel Illya's erection sliding between them, untouched by his hand. He suddenly had the primal need for his lover to come just from the sensation of Napoleon inside him. He pressed their bodies closer, earning a soft wail of his name as his hips pistoned harder and faster.

For all the encounters in Napoleon's life, this was the first where he truly felt not just their bodies but their souls unite in a bond that would never be broken. He gave a primitive bellow of completion as the gates of heaven flew open and he spilled into Illya's body, the eruption of his seed rivalling that at the creation of time itself. He pulsed repeatedly, filling the quivering channel with his hot come, indelibly claiming and marking the blond as his for eternity.

At his apex, he felt the pinnacle of his lover's passion spray across their stomachs and chests. It seared across his skin and marked him, now and forever as the owner and possessor of Illya, the other half of his soul, the completion of his very being.

Nothing had ever felt this way for Illya as Napoleon plunged into him, and he clung tenaciously to the bigger male. He could feel his impending orgasm shimmering just seconds away from eternity. The first heated splash of Napoleon's semen was enough to send him sobbing the brunet's name into the abyss of ecstasy. He belonged, heart, body and soul, to this man and was finally complete in a way he would never have the words to describe. He welcomed the older man's possession as Napoleon's seed filled him. 

Napoleon moaned softly, finally collapsing onto Illya, heart pounding and lungs heaving with spent desire. He shifted only slightly to ensure Illya could breathe, smiling against the damp, blond hair as his lover held him in place. He whispered Illya's name and myriad endearments and promises of love and devotion, caressing the sated body underneath his own. He did not resist as his face was finally guided to that of his lover's, and they kissed deeply, drinking the love they shared in the satiated afterglow.

"I love you, Illusha," Napoleon vowed as they parted to breathe.

"I love you, Pasha," Illya returned, smiling into the glowing face of his lover.

It was a vow as binding as any marriage vow; both men knew it and accepted it as the promise of forever.

We can sing in the glow of a star that I know of

Where lovers enjoy peace of mind (Lyrics: Volare)

****

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more (Lyrics: Sway)

The two men stood waiting as the helicopter descended. Napoleon's arm was wrapped around Illya's waist as the blond leaned against him, neither willing to surrender their new intimacy a second before was absolutely necessary.

As it landed, they became a whirlwind of effective efficiency packing away their bags and settling themselves.

"This break sure looks like it did the trick for you, Illya," the pilot grinned. The blond seemed to glow with health. It was an incredible difference to the pale, wan man that he had carried out just a couple of days ago.

"It seems that my partner knew exactly what was best for me," Illya replied dryly, his face schooled carefully into neutrality, although he could not hide the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at Napoleon.

"Now maybe you won't argue with me so much, partner mine," Napoleon grinned. 

"That'll be the day," Illya deadpanned.

The pilot looked from one man to the other. The banter was still there, but there was something else; something that had both men glowing as if alight from within. He gave a wide grin as the penny dropped.

"Let's go," he said.

Illya cast a quick worried glance at Napoleon, unsure of the older man's reaction to the intimation that the smile suggested. However, Napoleon simply scooped one of Illya's hands in his. Resignation as field agents would furnish safety of its own. They would no longer be targets. In addition, Illya would move into his more luxurious accommodation, and he would personally ensure its security was upgraded. If necessary he would employ private, personal security, although he doubted that would be necessary. Their enemies would have bigger fish to land than a new recruits' trainer and a Lab Tech.

They strode through UNCLE headquarters in much the same way as they always had. However, they grinned conspiratorially at the occasional frowns or puzzled looks they received. A difference was evident although people could not, as yet, fathom it out. 

"You head to Human Resource and start collating the paperwork we need, caro mio," Napoleon said. "I'll just quickly detour and thank Anton. I'll arrange an evening he and his partner can come for a celebratory meal and drinks."

"Alright," Illya nodded and headed off. 

Napoleon watched the blond vanish from sight and then headed towards the Doctor's offices. He took just a minute to relay his news to Anton and arrange a date and then asked the more pertinent question on his mind.

"Where is Mills?"

"His office. We have no current inpatients. May I expect an upcoming medical vacancy?" Anton asked, his face not showing the least concern.

"If I get my way," Napoleon replied.

Anton nodded. At the look on his friend's face he had no doubts. He picked up his pen and began drafting a job vacancy to present to HR.

Napoleon rapped cursorily as he let himself into Mills' office. He was unsurprised to see one of the female clerical staff on Mills lap. She jumped to her feet, adjusting the sweater she wore and rushed from the office.

"How dare you," Mills snarled, surging angrily to his feet.

"Don't do anything you'll regret, Mills," Napoleon drawled laconically. "I'm a fully-trained field agent. Sudden and aggressive moves might have me forget who you are and where I am and undertake a defensive manoeuvre to protect myself."

"Are you threatening me?" Mills asked incredulously. 

"Of course not," Napoleon said with an easy smile. "I came here to share my good news. Illya and I are now more than simply work partners. The other thing I came to do was to advise you to look for a position in another Hub. I want you gone as quickly and unobtrusively as possible."

"You're joking," Mills scoffed, but the gleam in Napoleon's eyes sent a shudder down his spine. He knew how dangerous the man before him was. He was no longer the guilt-ridden man he had tried to manipulate. However, there was nothing Solo could say or do that he could see to jeopardise his position. All he had to do was keep away from Illya.

"No joke," Napoleon said easily, leaning his hip on Mills' desk. "It really isn't me you have to fear," he added conversationally. "I'm sure that someone who was so...interested...in my partner knows just how lethal Illya can be. I'm also sure that someone who purports to be intelligent would understand that, if I were to have a little heart-to-heart with Illya and let it slip that I almost dissolved our partnership because someone suggested I was failing him while telling him he was failing me, he would be very angry."

"You're bluffing," Mills croaked. That was not something he had taken into consideration. 

"Try me," Napoleon replied, whirling to slam his hands on Mills' desk and stare with dark, dangerous eyes at the rapidly paling Medic. "Personally I would like ten minutes alone with you, to hurt you like you hurt him. However, I'll settle for you out of our lives permanently. If I don't hear you've resigned because you want to move on, I'll speak to Illya. And I can promise you, you'll wish you heeded my words if I do."




The New Beginning Affair



Leaving the office, Napoleon straightened his tie and flicked non-existent lint off his suit. Taking a cleansing breath, he headed to HR. He and Illya could fill out their reams of paperwork, and he would put the wheels in motion for their respective transfers. Then he intended to take his blond to their home and love him senseless.

In fact, he relished the idea of loving Illya anywhere and everywhere he could. His face brightened into a huge grin.

It was the beginning of a beautiful, life-long partnership. 

We don't need a heavenly setting

We don't need a sleepy lagoon (Lyrics: Me 'n you 'n the moon)

*

The Man from U.N.C.L.E. TV series was before my time. However, from the moment I saw one of their films I was captivated. I loved the characters and their relationship and Illya was as adorable as he was sexy. I built up a modest collection of books, videos and DVDs, which I still try to add to. I read Napoleon/Illya fiction but never felt inclined to write any. 

Over a period of a few months I undertook some long car journeys and my partner stacked up on an eclectic range of music for us to listen to. Amongst which was some Dean Martin music. Not only did I find I liked the music itself, but every time he sang I found myself thinking of Napoleon/Illya. 

From that, a little plot bunny was formed and the rest, as they say, is history...