Apr. 23rd, 2017

yumyumpm: Napoleon and Illya (Man from UNCLE)

A Moment of Madness

Originally posted File 40 2004-revised


Napoleon discovers feelings for his partner that could lead to madness.


Napoleon Solo stood by the window, his hands in his pocket and tie undone, wondering how the hell he’d managed to get himself in the fix he was in.  He was the top agent for U.N.C.L.E. New York.  Ruthless, merciless, and heartless, okay, maybe not heartless; and here he was acting like a lovesick fool.  Not that anyone would know to look at him, but deep on the inside he knew.  He sighed.


“Napoleon, Na-po-leon!”


“What, Illya?” he asked, his voice tired.


“You have been a million miles away.  What’s wrong?” his irritated partner asked.


What’s wrong?  I’m having definitely indecent feelings for you and you ask what’s wrong?  “Nothing,” was all he said.


It wasn’t even as if Illya had done anything to encourage these feelings.  Hell, he’d probably kill him if he ever knew.  Well, maybe not kill, but seriously maim would be closer to the point.  If only he knew why he was having these feeling?  He sighed again.


He turned away and left the room saying, “I’m going to go get some air.” 


“Say hello to her for me.”  He heard Illya call after him.


Instead of using the elevator he went over to the stairwell, down three steps and stopped.  Sitting down he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them as well.  Her?  There was no her, every time he tried to think about anyone of the female persuasion, Illya got in the way.  He would see himself kissing a beautiful red head and suddenly it would be Illya.  He’d imagine himself with a naked blonde and suddenly it would be a naked Russian. When had he gotten so obsessed?  He wasn’t into men, though half of U.N.C.L.E. probably thought he was.  His reputation was going to be the death of him yet.


Illya headed for the elevator intent on getting something to eat when he glanced into the stairwell and saw his partner just sitting there.  He changed direction and walked down to sit beside his friend. 


“Napoleon, something is obviously wrong?  Tell me what is bothering you.”


Solo would not look at him. 


“Is it something I’ve done?”


Solo shook his head no.


“Is it something you’ve done?”


Solo hesitated before shaking his head no again.


Twenty questions was not Illya’s favorite game.  “Is it something you want to do?”


Napoleon lifted his head and looked intensely at the blond Russian.


Illya held his breath; there was no mistaking that look.  Surely, Napoleon could not be serious.  Napoleon turned his head and hid his face.  Damn. 


“Napoleon...” he started.


“Would you please just go away?” Napoleon muttered into his hands. “Please before I do something we’ll both regret?”


Illya slowly got up and left.  Napoleon stretched out his legs and leaned back against the stairs.  After a while he got up and headed back for their room.  He opened the door to find Illya spread out naked on the bed.  He stood there, the key still in the lock, in a state of shock.


“Close the door,” Illya commanded. “This is what you want isn’t it?”


Napoleon closed the door and went and sat down on the other bed.  “What on earth… Illya, what I want and what I get are two totally different things.”  He pulled the blanket from across the foot of his bed and threw it at Illya to cover him up.  “I’m having problems, but that’s no reason…”


Illya took the blanket and wrapped himself up in it.  “Napoleon, if you have problems, we have problems. I thought this was what you wanted.”


“I do…I don’t…I don’t know what I want.”  Napoleon realized he wasn’t making any sense.  The two men just looked at each other for the longest time, neither saying anything.  Napoleon finally broke the silence.  “I’m sorry; my imagination is getting the best of me.  If we actually acted on it we’d both regret it.”  He frowned.  “At least I think we’d both regret it.  Maybe only you’d regret it.”


“I’m willing to take the chance,” Illya offered.


“But I’m not.”  Napoleon was adamant. “I care for and respect you too much, and that’s the problem.”  Illya looked at him puzzled.  “It’s not even as if I were in love with you,” he said thoughtfully.  “Though, maybe I’m in lust with you.  I can control it….I think.”


“Napoleon, you are not making any sense.”


“Tell me about it.”


“Why don’t we just take this one step at a time?  From the beginning,” Illya suggested.


Napoleon looked at him questioningly.


“When did all this start?”


Napoleon tried to think back. “I’m not sure.”


“That’s reassuring,” Illya said sarcastically.  “When did you realize you wanted to fuck me?”


Napoleon winced. “I’m not sure I’ve gotten that far yet.  Mostly it’s a very strong desire to kiss you.”


“Is that all?”  Illya asked in surprise.  “I have no problems with that, in Russia men kiss all the time.”


Napoleon glared at him. “Not the way I want to kiss you.  Besides what happens if I get the strong desire to…ah…you know?”


“The word is fuck, Napoleon,” Illya said exasperatedly.  “We could take it one step at a time.”


Napoleon considered the offer, it sounded like a good solution.  But he still wasn’t prepared to act on it.


“Why don’t you just fulfill the fantasy of kissing me, maybe you won’t like it,” Illya whispered.


Napoleon debated with himself mentally, surely one kiss wouldn’t hurt.  He got up from the bed and sat next to the Russian, wrapped up in a blanket, and looked him in the eye before taking Illya’s face with his hands and pulling his mouth upward for what he’d plan to be a quick kiss.  Unfortunately it didn’t work out that way. The softness of the mouth and the sweetness of the kiss was so intoxicating that it stretched on endlessly.  Soon they were both breathing hard.  Napoleon forcefully broke himself away. “This is not going to work.”


Illya, the blanket dropping from his shoulders, reached out and grabbed Napoleon by the base of his neck. “Who cares,” he said before initiating another breathtaking kiss.  He lay back on the bed pulling Napoleon down with him, their mouths never leaving the other.


Napoleon finally gave in and uncovered the body beneath him as if unwrapping a Christmas present.  He let his passion take him as he reached for the face of his associate and started kissing first the forehead, the eyelids, then the nose, on to the mouth.  From there he went to the neck, causing Illya to arch his head, followed by the chest, his tongue making patterns on the body beneath him.  He moved back up to nip at first one nipple than the other and listened to the moans of pleasure his partner was making.  It was obvious that the attention he was receiving was arousing him, so Napoleon worked even harder to arouse him more.  His hands were everywhere, his mouth was everywhere and soon, much too soon, Illya arched and climaxed forcefully.


Trying to get his breath back, he lay there completely sated.  Napoleon moved over to one side and lay next to him, his head resting on his hand looking smug.  Illya tried to get up but found he didn’t have the strength.  “So, now what?”


Napoleon’s hand went down to the flat abdomen and lightly stroked it.  “I think, that if you let me do this ever so often, I just might be all right,” he whispered.


“And what about you?  Do you not wish for me…?”  Illya queried.


“Nope, I think it was all about needing to please you.  Which pleases me.  If I need anything more, I can find it elsewhere.  I have no intentions of burdening …” Napoleon was unable to finish due to Illya’s fingers on his lips.


“What if I said it was no burden?”  Illya asked. “What if I need…?”


“Illya, whatever you want, whenever you want it,” Napoleon replied.  “But now, you need to rest.”   He gently covered his partner with the blanket and pulled him close.


Illya closed his eyes, blissfully aware of the change in their partnership, and oddly enough welcoming it.  Sleepily he muttered, “I’ll protect your back, if you protect mine.”


The End.





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