May. 3rd, 2017

yumyumpm: Napoleon and Illya (Man from UNCLE)
 Blood, Sweat, and - Sex

An AU story

By YumYumPM
(sadly I haven't been able to figure out how to add my pics.  I have this on pdf with pics.  If you'd like to see contact me at YumYumPM@aol.com)

 

Act I  The Enemy Within

Walking through the gun-gray metal hallways in U.N.C.L.E., New York - Napoleon Solo's eyes sparkled as two visions of loveliness, dressed in black and yellow, hurried past him.  He turned, adjusted his tie and tilted his head to one side to admire the view while continuing to walk backwards down the hall.    He couldn't help but feel fortunate that he worked for an organization that prided itself on the physical fitness of its employees. 

Without warning things changed.  The walls began flashing a glowing red.  There was no whooping alarm, nothing to say that U.N.C.L.E. was under attack, and yet a sense of urgency and danger swept through him.  He knew, without any doubt, that his life was once again heading down a path he'd long left behind.

His vision shifted from color to black and white and instinct told him that his eyes had changed from their normal golden brown to a glowing yellow.   In all the years spent as an agent for the U.N.C.L.E. this had never happened. 

Willing his eyes to return to their normal state of warm brown, he sent out his senses.   Whether the cause for the change was friend or foe, he wasn't sure, but whoever it was, was close by in the room off to his right.  Here in U.N.C.L.E. headquarters of all places.

His eyes narrowed as he reached for his gun, sneaking a look to either side to make sure the hallway was vacant.   Facing the offending door, his eyes widened as he realized whose office was behind that entrance.   The door swished open automatically just as he hastily removed his hand from inside of his jacket.

Stepping inside he paused to check the room out, the office a duplicate of his own.  Illya Kuryakin, his partner and friend, sat at the standard office desk, not unusual in itself considering that this was Illya’s office.  A quick glance around showed him that there was no one else in the room, but something had set off his internal alarm.

It was then that he focused on the only occupant of the room.  When Illya raised his eyes, Napoleon got a good look at him.   He observed the tinted glasses that were covering Illya's eyes, the ones he sometimes wore, and behind the tinted lenses he could see dark circles and that his skin tone was paler than usual.  Illya did not look well.  He was wearing a soft black turtleneck and while he often wore turtlenecks, he was tugging at the neckline as if he were trying to hide something.   Napoleon thought about reaching over and pulling the rounded collar down, but was afraid of what he would find.  It would only mean one thing.  But, this was impossible!  They had been partners for years.  He would have known if Illya was something other than human - like him.  There were only two ways to be changed.  One was to be bitten and the other was more rare and the way he had - to be born into it. 

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

Illya took off his dark glasses and shook his head.   He blinked in the light, his eyes tired and a paler shade of blue than normal.  “It’s probably nothing.  I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Too much partying?”  Napoleon asked, but didn’t hold out any hope that the answer would be yes.  Illya was not the type.

“No.”  Illya got up and moved toward his file cabinet.  “Did a little jogging in Central Park.”

“Since when did you take up jogging?” At night and in Central Park of all places!  Napoleon took the time to sniff the air.  Yes, the scent was there.  Not a full change, just the start of one.  It could only mean that someone had taken steps to turn Illya.  But who and why?  Damn, he had often had to work hard to keep from turning Illya himself, the man was just too tempting. 

“Just recently.  Doctor’s recommendation.  After that last assignment.”

Napoleon winced.  It was bad enough that Illya's last assignment had caught him fresh out of the hospital from their previous one.  No wonder he hadn’t been in as good of shape as usual.

“The next time you go let me know.  I could use a little jogging myself,” Napoleon said, one hip hitched upon Illya’s desk as he patted his tummy, to make his point.

Illya looked back at him, a soft small on his face, and nodded his head in agreement.

Just then, an announcement over the loudspeaker called Napoleon away.   He only hoped it wasn’t an assignment.  At least not before he could figure out what was happening with Illya.

Act II Vampire 101

In 1867 when he hit puberty, Napoleon’s father pulled him aside and explained the facts of life to him…that is the facts of the Solo family life.  Napoleon had laughed so hard he fell down.  Vampires!  There was no such thing.  Napoleon’s knowledge of vampires was limited to say the least, restricted to old stories one of his grandmothers would tell late at night and some very bad movies.  That was until his father smiled down on him and his canine teeth grew longer.

Napoleon’s jaw dropped.  He was to learn that he was a born vampire, as opposed to a turned one, and something that rarely happened.  They weren’t really sure what to expect of him, but they did know that drinking blood would be vital to his survival.  So his father took him to where he would eventually get all his needs met.  It was there that he learned that most of his knowledge of Vampires was misconceptions.

The following night his father had insisted on taking him away from the family home.  They walked down the streets in the city of Montreal where they happened to be living at the time.  He rarely ever got a chance to do anything with his father, since he was gone most of the time.  His mother on the other hand usually slept the day away, coming out mostly at night. 

 Eventually they turned into a doorway that Napoleon was pretty sure hadn’t been there just seconds ago.  It was located on an out-of-the-way side street and barely rated a second glance. 

Napoleon, not normally a timid boy, stayed as close to his father as he could.  Once they entered, he blinked twice at the medieval setting that met his eyes.  A large fireplace stood at one end of the room, with what looked like a giant pig roasting on it.  There were sturdy wooden tables scattered around the room.  Napoleon, even at that young age, couldn’t help ogling the bosomy waitresses who were weaving through the path between tables, large pitchers of various alcohols held aloft on their trays. 

Because of his age, it struck him as odd that only a few patrons glanced their way.  His father, after greeting several of the clientele, led him to a door hidden in a far corner of the room.  A barmaid, dressed in a skimpy outfit, approached and with a pleasant nod, unlocked the door and let them inside. 

Inside there were wall-to-wall bookcases filled to the brim.  There was a short, thin, elderly man, wearing a long robe of academia, standing on a ladder and pulling book after book down from the shelves.   

“Professor, this is my son.” 

The man turned, his glasses slid down his nose as he took a good look at Napoleon.  Long gray hair, along with a longish beard, surrounded a thin face.  This alone was enough to intimidate the younger Solo.  “Hmm, so this is the new addition to our community?”  Slowly he backed down from the ladder, and then laid the books he’d pulled on a table next to a large stack of others.  His dark eyes remained on the boy as he waved Napoleon to sit down and ordered, “Read.”

Napoleon pulled one of the bigger books forward, furtively keeping an eye out as the senior Solo was pulled to one side by the Professor and asked.  “How much does he know?”

His ears perked up and he noticed that his father winced.  “He’s lived with his mother.”

“Ah, well.  It can’t be help.”

Trying to act as if he wasn’t listening, Napoleon opened the largest tome.  He looked at the words on the page; Napoleon was fluent in English and French, both Parisian and Canadian.  This was neither.  The Professor pulled it away from him with reverence.  “This is one of the most ancient.  It will be years before you can read it with any type of competence.” He set another book in front of him.  “This will start you out easier.”  His tone condescending. 

And so the lessons began.  Napoleon spent many hours each day learning that there were a lot of facts that differed from what he’d always been led to believe.  The first myth to bite the dust was the one that claimed all vampires slept in coffins.  He learned that while many of his kind that were sensitive to light, there were some that could actually go out in the daytime.  Napoleon was definitely one of the one’s who could.  Most vampires could turn others into vampires by biting; it did take the sampling of blood three times though.  Like with many things there were vampires with morals and those with no morals at all.  Those without morals would take pleasure in their victims and off times leave them for dead.

Feeding was not so much a myth as misinformation.  The biting on the neck thing wasn’t always necessary.  As he was to find out from personal experience taking blood from the wrist was just as satisfying.  It wasn’t until later that blood taking and sexual enjoyment came into play and made the act more sensual.

Another myth had all vampires strong, speedy, gorgeous, and with enormous sex drives.  According to the Professor if that was how you were when you were turned that was how you remained, the main difference is that your life span was longer, and yes, you could die.

There were no firm rules for born vampires, as they were rare, and Napoleon was told he would be a case study, which really didn’t sit well with him.  Perhaps that was why that when he became of age, he tried his best to live his life as much like a human as possible.  It was true that he aged, but at a slower rate than his friends.  Still he managed to serve in at least three wars and only leave a paper trail in one.  No surprise there. 

Act III  A Walk in the Park

One hundred years later, Napoleon held back a smile as he followed leisurely behind his partner on one of the many jogging trails in Central Park.  As it was, it had taken him the better part of the day just to find a suitable jogging outfit to wear.  Little did Illya know that he did not need to take things easy, that Napoleon had far more stamina then Illya gave him credit for.   He was just about to goad Illya into moving a little faster, when he felt them.  His internal radar told him that there were two of the undead and they were converging on their path from two separate directions.  Illya had stopped where he was, his body frozen as the two males in mismatched outfits moved closer.  They were midway between two lampposts, where the lights were dimmer making the area they were in darker than the rest of the path.  Their eyes glowed and they seemed to be licking their chops in anticipation.

Napoleon went into action automatically, he stepped in front of Illya and his eyes glowed, his canine teeth elongated, and he growled deeply.  Their two opponents exchanged sudden glances, then as quickly as they had arrived, they vanished into the night.  He waited until he was sure they were no longer in the area, then reluctantly turned, half expecting Illya to demand to know what was going on.

Instead, Illya stood silent as if in a trance.  Napoleon tried snapping him out of it, unsuccessfully.  Getting Illya out of there was the most important thing right now.  Fortunately, Napoleon was stronger and faster then he looked.  In no time at all they were inside Napoleon's apartment and the door locked. 

Napoleon was worried.   Illya just stood there, stiff as a board, his eyes never blinking.  Napoleon tried everything from snapping his fingers to dashing cold water in his partner’s face.  Nothing worked.  Napoleon paced back and forth for a half-hour before deciding that sleep was a better option.  Heaving a heavy sigh, Napoleon maneuvered Illya into the bedroom and settled him on one side of the bed.  Shutting the blackout drapes that covered his bedroom windows, not that he needed them; he went about the task of undressing Illya, finding that it was like undressing a manikin. Changing into his pajamas, Napoleon slipped into bed and checked on his partner one last time before laying his head on his pillow.  Hopefully the morning would bring a change in Illya.

“Owww.”  Napoleon rubbed his arm, only to see a fuming Russian on the other side of his bed.   “Why did you do that?”

“Why am I in your bed?”  Illya’s blue eyes flashed in anger.

Think fast, Napoleon.’  “Ah, you passed out while we were jogging and I didn’t think you’d want to go to medical.”

Fortunately, Illya bought that excuse and Napoleon let out a sigh of relief.  It wasn’t easy but after that Napoleon managed to find excuses to stay close to Illya most evenings.   Until the day that Waverly ordered Napoleon to undertake an assignment out of the country.  Even though he’d insisted that Illya not go jogging without him, he suspected the stubborn Russian would do just that.

The first thing Napoleon did when he got back was rush to Illya’s apartment.  As he feared Illya, paler than normal, was lying on his bed with his arms crossed over his chest.  Napoleon sat down heavily on the bed as he contemplated what was happening to his partner and best friend.   His greatest fear was that even now it might be too late to save his friend.  Especially from the bloodlust that would come with his turning.  He reached for his communicator.  There was no way that Illya would be able to go into headquarters without a whole lot of questions being asked.  

After getting the okay for them both to have a week off from Alexander Waverly, Napoleon was able to make arrangements for them to fly out on a private jet.   The flight plan filed had their destination listed as Victoria with a slight layover in Toronto.  Their arrival into Victoria was really a diversion.  Now disguised as a male nurse and his patient; the two slipped out at the Toronto layover and commandeered an ambulance to make their way to Montreal. 

Act IV  To Turn or Not to Turn

Less than twenty-four hours later, Napoleon entered the same tavern that his father had taken him to so many years ago, pushing a rigid Illya in front of him.   The very same barmaid, not looking a day older then the last time he had seen her, greeted him.  Any other time he would have been delighted to see her, but today he was more worried about his partner.

Marcella’s green eyes brightened up when she saw young Solo enter the bar, then she notice he was not alone and the person with him was not kindred.  It only took one look at the two of them and she immediately ushered them into the back room, the very same back room where Napoleon got his education.

Talk about déjà vu.  Professor Lucendre, the same teacher from his youth, looked down over his glasses from where he was perched on a ladder.  As usual he was removing a huge book from the enormous shelves that circled the room.  Looking much like the elderly Professor he was, his face held a stern look and his dull eyes glowed a golden color.    

“Young Solo, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked softly.  He took one look at Illya.  “Have you any idea what you bring with you?  Have you forgotten your lesson’s so soon?  Go!” He commanded with a wave of his hand as he moved to the door.

Napoleon allowed Marcella to pull him away leaving Illya behind.  “Marcella, bring forth two glasses of our special red,” the Professor ordered before shutting the door.  Marcella nodded, and moved Napoleon to a table in the far corner.

Preoccupied as he was, Napoleon couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind the closed door as Marcella brought a tray with two crystal goblets, their contents a ruby red. 

When she returned she moved closer to him, letting him catch the scent of her.  From the time he was sixteen, she had been the one he came to when he needed to feed, first from her wrist, then she had been the one with whom he’d learned the delights of sexual release at the same time as they fed from one another.  “Darling, your little friend will be all right.  Perhaps you need a little distraction to make you feel better.”

Napoleon hesitated.  He felt responsible for Illya’s current predicament, though he knew he shouldn’t be.  There was nothing he could do for his partner, and the familiar scent of Marcella was calling forth his sexual nature.   He took one more look at the closed door before following Marcella up the stairway at the back to her room.

A satisfied and sated Napoleon descended the stairway, slowly buttoning up his shirt.  Marcella followed slowly, a dreamy expression on her face.  The Professor sat at the bar staring into a pint of ale. 

“How bad is it?” Napoleon asked softly afraid to disturb the quiet.

The Professor rubbed his chin.  “I will be frank with you.  He needs to be turned or he will die.”

 Napoleon shook his head in a state of shock.  “I can’t do that to him.  He's my partner and my friend.  I would give my life for him, but to turn him … I don’t think he would ever forgive me.”

“Darling, if you won’t do it, I’ll be happy to do it for you,” a newcomer’s sultry voice drawled.

 Napoleon’s face paled, eyes glowed dangerously.  “Angelique!  So THRUSH is behind this?” 

Angelique, her head tilted provocatively to one side the way he remembered, step forward in a slinky black gown.  Her bright red lips broke into a wicked smile showing off her canines.  She waved the accusation away with her hand.   “Don’t be silly, Napoleon.  Neither they nor I are involved in this.   If you don’t believe me, you can ask him yourself.”  She turned and pointed to the door, where Illya leaned, looking like death warmed over.

“Napoleon, no matter who turns him, he will be at their beck and call.  Is that what you want for your friend?”  The Professor said softly enough that only Napoleon heard him.

“Napoleon, might I have a word with you?” Illya stated emphatically.

He ushered Illya back into the library and pushed him down into a chair.  “Shouldn’t you be sitting down?”

“Where are we?  Why are we here and more importantly, what is she doing here?”  Illya scowled. 

Good questions, Napoleon thought to himself.  Though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.   He paced back and forth, rubbing his forehead.   “The where is Montreal.  The why is a little more complicated.  What do you know about vampires?”

Illya gave Napoleon a look that suggested he’d gone crazy; then he laughed out loud.  “You can’t be serious.  According to my friends the gypsies vampires are creatures of the night.  They make a habit of drinking human blood. Oh, and their reflection cannot be seen in a mirror, also crucifixes and garlic supposedly keeps them at bay.”  Illya shrugged.  “Personally I think they are figments of an over active imagination.”

“What if I told you that they are not figments?”  Napoleon asked slowly.  “That there really are vampires and not all of them are affected by the sun, and most of us have no problems with either crucifixes or garlic.”

“You did say us? Are you trying to say that you’re a vampire?  That’s ridiculous, you can’t be a vampire.  I’ve seen you out in the daytime lots of times.”

Napoleon chewed on his bottom lip. “You caught that, huh?”

Illya slid out of the chair and slowly moved away.  “Ho..how…”

Now it was Napoleon’s turn to laugh, his eyes brightened until they were a golden color.  “Well a male vampire, in this case my father, puts his penis inside a woman vampire’s vagina and…didn’t you learn about this in the KGB?”

Illya didn’t smile back.  It hurt Napoleon to see the fear in his partner’s eyes as he backed away, a fear he’d rarely seen in all the time that they’d worked together.  “Illya, I know that you’re…,” Napoleon didn’t want to say afraid.  “angry, but surely you are aware that something is not right with you.” 

“Napoleon, what is to become of me?”  Illya whispered.

The fact that Illya was even admitting that something was wrong worried Napoleon.  He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose; there was no way of getting around this.    Finally he opened them.  “I hate to break this to you…but either you allow someone to change you…or you die.”

“Die!”  Illya’s voice rose an octave.  “Isn’t that a bit drastic?”

“The process has already started.”  Napoleon informed him.  “There is no going back.”

“By change, exactly what do you mean?”

Napoleon cleared his throat.  “I realize that this is a lot to take in, but here goes.  Sometime, fairly recent, someone started the process to change you.  If they are allowed to complete their mission, you more or less belong to them.”

Illya’s eyes flashed with indignation.  “I belong to no one.”

“Tell me about it,” Napoleon muttered.  “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

“Tell me no one will drain me of blood.  I just know that drinking of blood is involved in this isn’t there?   My grandmother used to tell us stories to scare us.”  Illya said gloomily, then bared his throat.  “Let’s get on with it.”

Napoleon rolled his eyes.  Illya was being obstinate as usual.  Then there was that tingling warning sensation, Napoleon’s eyes flashed, changing colors, and his whole body went on alert.  He was out the door and into the barroom in seconds with Illya close behind him.

The barroom looked like a warzone.  There had to be at least fifteen to twenty combatants hurtling around and he had no idea who was on whose side.

The Professor struggled to their side.  “You must make your claim on him.  NOW!” he yelled frantically over the noise while pushing them back into the room, locking it from further invasion.  He rushed over to one section of the library and pulled out one of the books, the wall of books swung open revealing a spiral staircase.  “Hurry!  We will do our best to hold them off.”

Act V  Something Weird This Way Comes

Snatching Illya by his wrist, Napoleon dragged him into the stairwell.  The door closed, leaving the area black as night.  Carefully the two men made their way up the stairs until they came to the top landing.  Napoleon’s vision told him there was a door in front of him; he looked for the knob and could not find one.  He ran his hand over the metal door, unable to find a latch or button of any source.  Illya snorted and joined in the search.  Once their hands touched the door swung automatically open, revealing a richly furnished bedroom.

Even though Napoleon had just quenched his thirst a short while ago, his canines lengthened and his eyes glowed with lust.  He had Illya undressed and splayed across the bed in a matter of seconds. 

Watching as Illya’s licked his lips, his eyes wide, Napoleon slowly removed his own clothing piece by piece. 

“I don’t want to force you, Illya,” Napoleon choked out. 

“I’d rather you didn’t force me either,” Illya muttered.  His breathing deepened, Napoleon’s body was a lot buffer then he remembered.  “Ummm, why are we naked?”

Napoleon lay next to Illya bringing his face close.  “It’s all part of the experience.”

Illya cocked an eyebrow doubtfully. 

Napoleon moved closer breathing in Illya’s scent.  He let his canines scrape down Illya’s neck, leaving a red streak all the while letting his hands roam down Illya’s body.  Then he let his tongue move upward erasing the stripe of red. He could feel the blood coursing through Illya’s veins.  He sensed rather than saw the smile on Illya’s face.  Desire filled him.  He flipped Illya over with ease and dragged his tongue slowly down his back to his crease.  Illya’s skin felt silky smooth beneath his tongue.

They were both breathing heavily.  He lay flat on Illya’s back, his hard cock pressed against his stomach.  One of them was whimpering and he had no idea as to whom.   Napoleon nuzzled the back of his light hair, breathing in the scent of Illya.  He knew it was time to make his claim.  Just how was he going to do that without hurting him?  Illya appeared to be trying to slip away from him, scooting his back legs under him causing Napoleon’s cock to slip into the crease.  That decided it.  Napoleon clamped down on the vein running up the side of Illya’s neck and started sucking what had to be the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted while at the same time driving his cock home up Illya’s tight passage.

Illya howled and everything went on the fritz after that.

Napoleon opened his eyes and stretched.  The room was dark, but that was to be expected.  He lay in a state of totally relaxation, not a normal condition for him.  Never had he felt so good.  He had taken blood in a variety of ways, but this one was at the top of the charts.  Unfortunately his memory of their coupling was a little fuzzy.  He turned his head to look for Illya to see how he had faired.  There was something weighing down on him and he lifted his head up to find a light colored ball of fur lying on his chest.  The long silky tail covered what had to be the muzzle. 

“Illya?”  Napoleon asked in shock, looking around for his partner.

The head moved up, familiar blue eyes opened and blinked sleepily.  That couldn’t be…something was definitely not right!  Napoleon had never changed anyone, but he had a feeling that this was not normal.  The Professor!  Maybe he had the answer.

Napoleon hurriedly dressed with what he could find and cautiously moved barefooted down the stairs into the library, a little blond furball tagging along at his heels, his raised tail wagging enthusiastically.  His vampire vision got him to the door leading to the bar and he let his senses expand.  He looked down as he felt something nudging his lower leg.  Illya, if it was indeed him, looked up at him with challenge in his puppy dog eyes.  Strangely all was quiet.

Slipping the door open, he peeked into the other room.  The place was in shambles, bodies scattered about.  In between were piles of what looked like ash.  In two steps he was beside the facedown body of the Professor.  A quick check proved that he was still alive with not a bruise upon his body that Napoleon could see.  He smiled as a groan passed through the Professor’s lips and his eyes opened.

Napoleon’s head jerked up as moans sounded around the room.  Various members of the defending team were regaining consciousness.  Angelique was among them and she was shakily getting up, her dagger still in her hand.  A growl sounded and the next thing Napoleon knew a large wolf-like animal whizzed past him going straight for her.  She dropped the dagger and shrieked in horror.  In a flash Napoleon was barreling into the furred body, just in time to keep it from sinking its fangs into Angelique.

They rolled across the floor and the beast beneath him whimpered.  Napoleon looked into the blue eyes that he knew so well.

“Illya?”

This was not the small bundle of fur from earlier.  This was a full grown wolf.

“What on earth…?” the Professor asked, coming to stoop down next to Napoleon.  “How did this happen?”

“Haven’t the faintest clue.  That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Napoleon answered, holding on tightly to Illya who seemed to calm down in his arms.

“He’s a wolf?” asked Angelique, intrigued.  She reached out with one hand out to stroke the smooth white fur just managing to snatch it back before Illya tried to snap at it.

“I would not advise that,” Professor Lucendre warned amused.  “He does not seem to like you.”  Lucendre frowned.  “Is this who I think this it?”

Napoleon nodded.  At least to the best of his knowledge it was.

“How the hell did this happen?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me,” Napoleon offered, nuzzling the wolf under his chin.

Adjusting his glasses further up his nose, he studied the white furred creature that had made itself at home on his prize pupil’s lap.  For the two centuries he’d been a vampire, he had never come across anything like this.  “This will require much study,” Lucendre concluded.

Ignoring the others cleaning up the mess made during the recent fight, Angelique sat on one of the bar stools, her long hair dangling as she leaned over to light a cigarette and try to recover her composure.  Crossing her legs and letting her thigh show provocatively, she watched the smoke as it drifted slowly up toward the ceiling.   Tilting her head to one side, she snarked wickedly, “I wasn’t aware that you were into bestiality, darling.”  

The words had no sooner left her mouth when the wolf leaped out of Napoleon’s arms and went straight for her throat.   She let out a shriek just as Napoleon managed to catch hold and stop him. 

“Illya!” Napoleon shouted as he hung on for dear life. 

“You’d best leave, my lady,” the barmaid suggested.  Angelique turned up her pretty nose and walked to the door.  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief once the door shut behind her.  Good riddance everyone thought, and even the wolf seemed to smile.         

Act VI  Answers to The Legacy

Napoleon and Professor Lucendre were holed up in the library behind the barroom searching through the entire selection of books for any reference that could explain what had happened.  Illya lay at Napoleon’s feet, no longer the big, bad wolf, but not exactly cute and cuddly anymore either. 

The nearest thing they had come across was that Illya had changed into a werewolf.  A werewolf?  Napoleon wasn’t buying it, after all shouldn’t he have sensed it?  He slammed another large tome shut.  “There is no such thing as werewolves,” he insisted.  “They’re just products of old folk tales told to scare little children.

Illya lifted his head and rolled his eyes.

“How better to hide then under the cloak of disbelief.”  Lucendre peered down from his perch on top of the ladder.  “We’ve been doing it for centuries.”

A brown-haired waitress slipped into the room, her tray filled with delicious food for the men.  She patted Illya on the top of his head as she set down a bowl of dog food in front of him.

Illya looked down his long nose at the bowl.  Sniffing the air, the scent of cooked steak caught his nostrils.  Licking his chops and salivating, he slipped closer to where Napoleon was engrossed in a stack of books and managed to sneak it off of Napoleon’s plate without him noticing.

Napoleon’s eyes narrowed when he finally noticed that his plate was empty.   One look at Illya’s innocent expression was enough to tell him were his food had gone.   “It doesn’t make any sense.  I bit him; shouldn’t he have turned into a vampire?”

“Ordinarily I would have said, yes.”  Lucendre frowned.  “This is totally out of my area of expertise.  Perhaps we should come at this from another direction,” he murmured.  “If only we could get him to change back into a human.”

Napoleon looked thoughtful.  “I wonder what would have happened if he had bitten me.  Would I have turned into a werewolf?”

“He didn’t bite you?” Lucendre asked.

Illya came over and nudged Napoleon’s hand with his head.  Napoleon ran his fingers through the soft fur, so reminiscent of Illya’s normal hair.  He brought his nose to the soft coat and sneezed.

“Eureka!” Lucendre shouted as he blew dust off an ancient small leather bound book.

“What is it?”  Napoleon rose from the floor to meet him, Illya at his side.

“This, my boy, may hold all the answers to your questions,” Lucendre assured him.  “It has been centuries since I’ve read this.  If memory serves, it belonged to your great, great grandfather.  ”

Napoleon frowned.  “I don’t remember him.”

“That is because he ceased to exist long before you were born.”

Illya tilted his head to one side. 

“Vampires do live a very long time.  But there are several ways to be killed.  For certain of us sunlight will do it.”  Lucendre lectured.

“Chopping off our heads works as well,” Napoleon added dryly.

Lucendre nodded, then yawned. “It is time I retire.  I am sure that you will find this interesting reading.”

Blowing on the cover, Napoleon moved to a more comfortable chair.  Once he was settled in, Illya leaped up and sprawled across the back, all the better to read over Napoleon’s shoulder.

Napoleon squinted at the faded ink on yellowed pages.  Nothing made sense.  “What the…this isn’t even in English!”

Napoleon felt sharp teeth nip his ear, then a rough tongue licking the spot.  Next he heard a loud thump behind him and twisted around to see what it was.  Or was it who?

Illya lay sprawled on the floor in all his human glory.  He scrambled up and snatched the book out of Napoleon’s hand.  “I can read it.”

“Oh, right.  I forgot that you have a degree in dead languages,” Napoleon said dryly.  Secretly he was delighted that Illya was back to normal.”

Illya grinned, then sat down and began reading.

“Care to share?”

“Did you know that your great, great grandfather was Leonardo DiVinci?”

Napoleon’s eyes grew wide.  “Heck, no.”

Illya’s eyes grew hard and he tapped the book.  “He is the reason I am as I am.”

“Huh.”

Illya was angry, very angry.  “It’s all here in black and white.”

Now Napoleon was angry, it wasn’t as if he’d started this shit.  He’d merely finished it. 
“Explain,” he barked.

“DiVinci is…was…vampire.  He managed to hide it well.  Mona Lisa, however, was wolf.  A freak, like I am now.”

“You would have been a dead freak if I hadn’t changed you, Tavarish.  Someone else started the process.”  Napoleon shook his head, this did not make sense.  He’d had his whole live to adjust to this.  Illya had not.  “What else does it say?”

Illya leafed through the remaining pages and shook his head.  “Nothing much.  Just that the full moon is going to be a bitch.”

Napoleon sighed, gathered up a blanket and wrapped it around his partner.  “Let’s get some sleep now and try to figure this out later.  I want to know who started your change and why.”

Act VII  Full Moon Rising

Two years later, Napoleon and Illya stopped to hide behind a large tree in an attempt to escape their pursuers.   They had been on the run for the better for two day and even with their special abilities they were beginning to lag. 

Illya had long since come to terms with what he now was and they had returned to the U.N.C.L.E.  Any question as to where they had been and why had been easily taken care of, after all Napoleon had managed to hide what he was for years, and they figured that the same would hold true for Illya.  Physicals were just as easily taken care of thanks to Napoleon’s ability to wipe another’s mind.

Leaning against the tree trunk Illya asked.  “Are you sure you can’t change into a bat?”

Napoleon merely glared at him.  He bent over, his hands on his knees, getting his breathing under control.  Even his vampire background had its limitations.

With a wicked grin, Illya dashed away shedding clothing as he went and changing into his wolf form.

“Illya!” hissed Napoleon, knowing full well who would end up carrying said clothing.  It never ceased to amaze him how beautiful Illya looked in wolf form.  That was until he felt the barrels of two guns pointed against his head.  How had they managed to sneak up on him?

“Where is the small blond one, your partner?” one of the two snarled.

Napoleon did his best to hide his smile as he nodded over the guy’s shoulder.  He turned his head just in time to see a white streak heading his way.  Fighting years of discipline Napoleon used his special abilities to take out the second guy while Illya’s claws dug into the first.  The smell of terror radiated in the clearing and Napoleon caught of whiff of bile. 

He tossed a glare Illya’s way.  It would become increasingly difficult to keep Illya’s situation hidden, especially if he continued attacking in wolf form.  “What do you suggest we do with the bodies?  Someone is going to come along eventually and they might just get suspicious.”

Illya merely bayed at the full moon, which was now high in the sky, and began digging.  Being paired with a wolf wasn’t all bad, but the object was to keep anyone from knowing about it.

Between the two of them they managed to cover up the attacks.  Napoleon sat down heavily and heaved a sigh.  “What do we do now?”

Illya moved closer to Napoleon and licked his face.  Napoleon wasn’t sure how long Illya would be able to control the effect that the full moon had on him.  The past two years had been an experiment on how the moon affected Illya’s wolf side caused by their mating.   Not that Napoleon regretted it.  The sex was amazing and kept the wolf-side of Illya in check. 

“Ouch” Napoleon slapped at his ear. 

The blue-eyed creature sitting near him smiled and lapped at the blood dripping down Napoleon’s neck.  Within seconds, Illya the man sat next to him.  Illya arose gracefully, his nude body glowing in front of the backdrop of the full moon and held out his hand.

“There is a cabin not too far.  I think we will be safe there until morning,” Illya said softly.  He brushed back the curl that drooped over Napoleon’s forehead.  “Do not think too much about it, Napoleon.  It is what it is.  The legacy of your great, great grandfather has brought us closer together, and inspite of everything I cannot find it in me to regret it.  Can you?

Act VIII  Who Wants Illya Dead - and why?

The trek through the woods was made quietly and swiftly.  The cabin was a little more than a shack that blended into its surroundings.  It had evidently been abandoned; the inside was rustic and musty.  The place was pretty much bare, though there was a mattress lying on the floor.  Illya went straight for the bed and flopped down on it.  Illya had never bothered to dress and Napoleon couldn't help but smile at the wicked display that his partner made on the bare mattress.  Once Illya had finally embraced his inner wolf, he had developed a wicked sense of playfulness that never ceased to delight Napoleon.

Napoleon was happy.  He not only had a job he enjoyed, but a companion who would live as long as he did.  Provided he could keep him safe.  He really could not bare the thought of living his life without Illya. Frowning he asked, “Do you think this had anything to do with our assignment or were they after you?”

“I have no idea.  Right at this very moment I just want you to strip and let me fuck you.”

It wasn't that often that Illya wanted or needed to top, but when he did Napoleon was always willing to accommodate him.  He quickly shucked off his jacket and holster sand started working on the buttons of his shirt.  His smile widened as Illya cocked one brow and licked his lips, his eye's alight with lust.  His hand rubbing his hardening shaft, then gripping it and waving it teasingly at Napoleon.

Napoleon never failed to admire Illya's pale body.  He was still slim and trim, but his muscle mass was phenomenal.  There was a dash of pale hair that surrounded the dusky nipples and thickened as it made a trail from his belly button to his cock.  That too was pale and slender and the helmet turned a dusky rose color when Illya was aroused.  At the moment there was a pearl drop of fluid dripping from the tip.

 Now it was Napoleon's turn to lick his lips.

Just then Illya stiffened, his body on alert, one finger raised to his lips in warning as if he felt something near.  Napoleon frowned as he sent out his senses, but could detect nothing.  That in itself was strange.

The next instant, Illya leaped off the bed and took a stand in front of the door, blocking Napoleon's view.

In a blink of the eye, the door burst open and two humungous vampires entered the room.  Another man, a great deal older, followed leisurely.  Napoleon peeked around Illya.  He blinked in surprise.  This was the last thing he expected.

"Dad!"

"Hello, son."

Napoleon moved around Illya, who in his human form wasn't much protection at all.  "What are you doing here?"

"Correcting a problem,"  Alberto Solo sneered.  He waved his hand to his underlings.  "Grab him."

The two vamps moved toward Illya who immediately shifted and started to growl.

"Call off your dog,"  Napoleon's dad ordered.

"Not on your life."  Napoleon shook his head.  "What do you mean you're here to correct a problem?  What problem?"

"Him," Alberto pointed at the white wolf.  "He should have never been created.  He's an abomination.  This is all your mother's fault."

"Huh."  Napoleon and the wolf exchanged looks.  "What the fuck?"

Alberto's face was red with anger.  "Your mother decided it was time you got married.  She heard you were working with someone called Illya Kuryakin.  She assumed Illya was a woman and, in her infinite wisdom, thought it would be a good idea if ..." he waved his hand at Illya.  "you and this Illya got involved, that it would be best for all concern if she was changed.  Turned into one of us.  When we found out that she was a he it was too late.  I tried to remedy the problem, but by then it was getting difficult.  Listen to me, son.  This is for the best."

Napoleon could feel his father trying to compel him.   Telling him to turn his back on his partner and let them destroy him.  His eyes glowed a bright red and he roared.  Walls of red flame-like energy flowed from his body and encircled the occupants of the room. 

The two vampires tried to make a break for it and were engulfed in flames.  Alberto Solo's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  Illya had changed back into human form and was looking around in astonishment.

"Stop!"  an authoritative  voice snapped.

Act IX  The King of the Vampires

All eyes turned to the doorway.

There at the entrance to the room stood a small ancient man, the Professor by his side.  Napoleon's father immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head.  "Your Majesty."

Napoleon and Illya looked at each other, 'Your Majesty?' they mouthed in disbelief.  Napoleon's eyes roamed over Illya's naked body, a body that was his alone to view.   He hastily picked up his jacket and threw it to Illya, ignoring Illya's look of indignation even as he drew it on.

"Bow to our king, my son,"  Alberto hissed.

"Count Dracula I assume?"  Illya muttered.  Napoleon rolled his lips to keep from laughing aloud.

The King chuckled, a small smile graced his face leaving his fangs showing.

Professor Lucendre stepped forward.  "This is His Majesty King Kasmire.  Your Majesty, Alberto Solo and his son Napoleon ... and friend."

Ignoring the senior Solo, the diminutive king walked up to Napoleon.  "I am impressed.  Not many of our people can do that.   And who do we have here?"

"He is no one,"  Alberto interceded before Napoleon could answer.

King Kasmire turned an angry glare at Alberto.  "I do not recall asking you.  Leave my presence.  Now!"

Alberto looked as if he wanted to object, but in the end he did as he was commanded.

Kasmire looked around the cabin, taking its grungy appearance in, and decided that if they were to have a meaningful discussion, their surroundings needed some improving.  With a snap of his fingers, the four men were transported into an underground palace.

King Kasmire was seated in a high-back chair, the Professor standing at his right.  He waved Napoleon and Illya to sit on any of the many seats in the large room.  Standing nearby was a manservant holding out a beautiful blue silk robe, the better to cover Illya up than a jacket that is just a tad too big and yet not big enough.  While Illya donned the robe, Napoleon buttoned up his shirt.  By this time Napoleon had almost forgotten the question.  "Your Majesty, this is my partner, Illya Kuryakin."

"Ah yes.  The werewolf/vampire hybrid.  Truly unique."

"That's one way of putting it,"  Illya admitted.  "Excuse my impertinence, but why are we here?"

The Professor cleared his throat.  "Allow me?"

Once the Professor got the royal nod, he took his lecturing stance.

Napoleon crossed his leg over one knee and cocked an eyebrow.  This had better be good.

Before he could begin the manservant returned with a tray of drinks and whispered in the King's ear.  The King looked grim as he nodded. 

Into the room stormed an angry Alberto Solo surrounded by a contingent of husky vampires.

Both Napoleon and Illya jumped in front of the King, coming between the two factions.  The King slipped between the two with little effort. 

"What is it you want, Alberto?" 

"I want what is mine by right.  I want him!"  Alberto's eyes flared with hatred as he pointed at Illya.

"He is not yours.  Though your men may have started the turn, Napoleon finished it."  The Professor pointed out.  "Mr. Kuryakin is therefore..."

"I am no one's property,"  Illya snarled.

Everyone turned to Napoleon, who shrugged his shoulders.  After all, the comment was true.  If anything Illya owned him, not the other way around.  A fact that the look in Illya's eyes said he was well aware of.

"This is ridiculous.  Attack!" Napoleon's father roared.

"I think not."  Everyone turned to find Angelique and six female vampires entering the room.  With a wave of her hand each of her confederates went up to Alberto's followers and gripping  them by their ears pulling each and everyone of them from the room.

Angelique sashayed across the room to slip between Napoleon and Illya.  "Well, Darlings, it looks like I arrived in the nick of time."

"Angelique, your timing was perfect," Napoleon purred.

Chuckling softly, her eyes mischievous as she went to lift the back of Illya's robe.  "Just what do we have underneath here?"

"Nothing you need to see,"  Napoleon snapped as he slapped her hand away.

"He's just jealous."  Illya teased while Angelique pouted prettily. 

This conversation so incensed Napoleon's father that he would have attacked immediately, taking out the little blond deviant - except for one thing.  He found himself frozen in place - unable to move.   

"Please, will everyone take a seat,"  King Kasmire calmly suggested.

Alberto was a high ranking vampire and he did his best, but he could not break the hold that was on him.  He glared at his King.

It did not take the King long to realize what the problem was.  However, it was not he who had cast the hold on the senior Solo.  The son must have more power than Kasmire thought. "Napoleon?  Kindly release your hold on your father."

Napoleon blinked.  It had not occurred to him to try that.  Everything that he'd done so far had been instinctual.  He glared at his father and shook his head.  He looked at Angelique.

"Sorry, Darling, but I don't have that kind of power."

They both turned their gazes toward Illya.  He stood there his arms crossed defiantly over the royal blue robe, his bare feet spread apart, a wicked smile pasted across his face.

"Oh my god!" Angelique breathed.

Illya glanced around the room, noting the shocked looks on everyone's face, except for Napoleon's.  Napoleon looked amused.  "Only if he promises to control himself."

Somehow Alberto managed to nod, not that he meant to keep his promise.  For the time being, however, he would bide his time.

Illya snapped his fingers.  It was as easy as that.

Once everyone was seated, King Kasmire solemnly made his announcement.  "I'm not getting any younger.  I would like to enjoy what time I have left in this world, so I would like to step down as King."

Napoleon and Illya looked at each other in alarm.

"I've decided to hand over the reigns to your son,"  Kasmire informed Alberto.  "Of course he will need a good bit more training.  He and his mate - Illya. "

"Over my dead body," growled the older Solo.

"That can be arranged."  Angelique smiled sweetly.

"Napoleon, could I have a word with you?"  Illya asked.

The two of them moved away from the others.

"He wants me to be King,"  disbelief evident in Napoleon's voice.

"Is that what you want?"  Illya wanted to know. 

"Hell no."  Napoleon had spent most of adult life living as a human.  He'd just now found his soul mate and was positive that being King was not in the cards for him.  Just how do you refuse an offer like this.  "What about you?"

Illya shook his head.

"Your Majesty.  As much as I am honored by your offer, I must reluctantly recline."

"Napoleon, the vampire community is dying off.  We were hoping that you and Illya could revive it."  Professor said.

Angelique perked up.

"Revive it how?"  Illya asked apprehensively.

Act X  Rising of the Full Moon

Napoleon lay contentedly on the cramped bed in Illya's apartment, his head resting on the blond's shoulder, and sighed happily.  The last year had been relatively trouble free.  Thrush had still done their best to put them away, but even without their special gifts they had managed to stop them from doing major damage. 

Once a month on the full moon, they managed to get away from it all, no matter what part of the world they were in, so Illya could let his inner wolf run free.

"You're sure you have no regrets?"  Illya asked.

"Not a one.  I learned how to cloud minds, which will come in handy, donated some sperm which will make my father happy.  It beat the alternative."  He and his father had come to a truce thanks to the Kings intervention.

His head traveled down Illya's body until it came to his favorite part, which was standing straight up waiting for him.  A drop of pearly liquid was already leaking from the tip.   He breathed deeply, taking in the aromatic aroma of sweat before licking then engulfing the broad head.   Soon he would feed on Illya's blood, bringing them both the an orgasm of massive proportions.  Life was good.

Just then a communicator beeped. 

Growling Napoleon scrambled off the bed and reached for his jacket.

"Solo."

"Mr. Solo, it would appear that a Thrush agent is trying to get in touch with you,"  Mr. Waverly informed him.

Illya sat up in bed, his hard cock wilting.  Napoleon sat bare assed on the floor.  Which member of Thrush was trying to get in touch with them?  As if they had to guess.

"Would you and Mr. Kuryakin get in touch with that Angelique person.  She seems to feel that it is very important."

"Yes, sir."  Napoleon tossed his communicator on the floor and pounced on the bed.  "I wonder what Angelique wants?"

"There is only one way to find out."

Covered with sweat, Angelique panted as she strained to push, wondering why she had ever thought this was a good idea.  "Where is he?"  she asked, through gritted teeth.

"He's here," a soft voice assured her.  "Push once more."

She opened her eyes and there at the door stood her handsome Napoleon, his expression one of shock.  Unfortunately next to him stood that annoying Russian.  She cried out triumphantly as she gave a final push giving Napoleon the one thing Illya Kuryakin could not give him.  Falling back against her pillow, she waited for the sound of their child, notifying them that he was in the world.  All she heard was a small whimper.

 A strangled cry had her looking at Napoleon, who stared at the bed where she lay with his mouth open.  Next to him, smiling smugly was his much amused partner.

Angelique slowly lifted her head as the mid-wife laid her and Napoleon's child on her stomach.  Something soft and white and furry stared back at her and she screamed.

"Illya?  What have you done?"  Napoleon muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"Nothing.  This was all Angelique."  Illya moved forward, gently picking his son off of Angelique.  "It's okay, n'yehm-NOHZH-ka ah-DEEN "  he crooned.


 

 

Epilogue

Illya looked proudly down at the little white ball of fluff that played in the playpen. 

"Okay, how did you manage to pull it off,"  Napoleon asked.

"It didn't seem fair that you had to do all the work, so I contributed a little something to the sperm bank,"  Illya explained.  "How was I to know that Angelique would pull a stunt like that, or that she would end up with the wrong sperm."

"Hmmm."  Something about the smug look on Illya's face led Napoleon to wonder just how much that was true.  There had always been more to Illya then met the eye and Napoleon wouldn't put it past him to have the ability to foresee the future. "Well it's a damn good thing that she's not contesting custody."  The cute little cub was hiding under a blanket.  Napoleon couldn't resist  dangling one hand in the playpen and got nipped for his troubles.  "Ouch!"

The next thing they knew the cut little wolf cub had changed into a beautiful baby boy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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