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The Master

Chapter Text

MFU 16

Illya was on his knees putting his books on the shelf while Napoleon hovered nervously behind him. There was a smug look on Illya's face, which fortunately Napoleon could not see. He knew exactly what Napoleon wanted, but he wasn't going to give in. At least, not yet.

Waverly's revelation had been nothing short of shocking. The fact that The Master was a friend of Waverly's and not just that, he was a legitimate employee of U.N.C.L.E.! That was the part that blew both Napoleon and Illya away.

When news of their condition had reached him following their recovery in Medical Europe, Waverly had immediately flown and had a few well-chosen words with his friend. As they pieced it together, the last time Napoleon spoke with the original Waverly was then, it appeared that all other meetings had been with the duplicate.

It was around that time that Nurse Helga was transferred to Research & Development. Waverly had shaken his head. He hadn't been pleased about letting her loose to other employment. "Perhaps I should ship her out to The Master," he had muttered, a wicked twinkle in his eye, before he dismissed the two agents. "I will expect those rewritten reports on my desk in the morning, Gentlemen."

Those thoughts were going through his head as Illya set the last book into place. Studying the arrangement of books, he wondered if staying with Napoleon was the right thing to do. He had to admit that he was pleased that Napoleon decided to turn the spare room into a library, where he could store all his books. Just then his ears picked up the shuffling of feet behind him. A sense of mischief hit him and he waited for the right moment before standing up suddenly, knocking Napoleon to the floor. Pretending surprise, Illya turned and looked down. "What are you doing down there?"

Napoleon looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor and scowled. "I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I'm doing down here." He raised his hand, silently asking for help. "Does this mean you plan to stay?"

"Maybe. It depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you write the reports or not." Illya hid his smile while stepping over Napoleon's prone form.

Napoleon fell back flat on the carpet. This was not how he expected things to go. He thought turning the spare bedroom into a place for Illya's books was a nice gesture on his part. He'd been looking forward to getting closer to his partner, even though he hadn't a clue as to how.

Napoleon settled down in the living room and reviewed the reports as they were written. It didn't take long to make the needed corrections to his reports. As for what Illya had experienced, he was going to have to write his own reports.

Halfway through his rewrites, Napoleon decided it was time to take a break. He fixed himself a drink, then he thought that a fire might be a good distraction. He made sure the damper was open and the wood laid properly, then struck the match against the brick hearth and lit the kindling.

"Done already?"

The words startled him, but no more so than the view of his partner standing in the hallway, a skimpy towel draping his thin hips while using another towel to wipe down his damp hair. Napoleon managed to keep his jaw from dropping as he slowly rose from his stooped position.

"That's not how you normally dress at home?"

A wicked smile flashed just before the towel dropped to the floor.

Napoleon's breath caught and he muttered, "Holy shit." His jaw did drop as Illya ran his hand down his taut stomach and through the blond curls that covered the base of his shaft before gripping the slender penis that, even now, was slowly lengthening and rising. His tongue traced his lips, his body reacting, as he fought to control a groan. "Wicked, wicked, dirty little boy," Napoleon growled.

All movement stopped. Illya frowned and crossed his arms. "I am not little."

Napoleon walked over and took the slender body into his arms. "No, not little at all," he murmured into Illya's ear before nipping it. His hands roamed down Illya's surprisingly soft back to cup the roundness of his ass, one finger delving into the crease.

Illya tensed and pushed Napoleon away. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Ah... not exactly. Do you?"

Illya snorted then turned to walk away. He returned with a large book and shoved it into Napoleon's arms.

Napoleon looked at the book, not recognizing it. He went and sat on the edge of his desk and leafed through it, his eyes widening with each turn of the page. The pictures were very detailed. "Where did you get this?" He couldn't keep his eyes off the acts depicted on the pages. His stomach churned while his pants grew tighter.

Illya took the book away. "See this one?"

Napoleon nodded. It showed two men, both face down, the one on top inserting an overlarge penis into the other. He was torn between wanting to try it and afraid that he'd hurt Illya.

"You will not be the one on top," Illya firmly informed him.

Now Napoleon's back side was aching, "Ah, could we take this slow?"

"I think that would be advisable." Illya drew close and started by unbuttoning and unzipping Napoleon's slacks. His first touch was an eye-opener. When Napoleon found Illya's hands on his stiff cock, he was unaware the Illya was focused on the fact that Napoleon's aroused cock was much thicker than his own. He felt blissful as Illya's fist gripped the hard shaft and slid up and down the smooth surface. He looked down and caught sight of Illya's hand seeing how pale it looked next to his darker skin.

Napoleon let out a hiss, which had Illya looking up and he noticed that Napoleon's eyes were squeezed tightly shut in what looked to be pain. Illya quickly pulled his hand away almost as if he feared he'd done something wrong.

"Don't," Napoleon gasped, unaware of how his face had looked.

Illya frowned.

Napoleon eyes opened and he looked puzzled. "Why did you stop?"

"You said to." Now Illya looked confused.

Napoleon shook his head and replaced Illya's hand on his dick.

Napoleon watched as Illya looked down at the dusky-colored head in his hand, unaware of Illya's thoughts. He didn't know that it occurred to Illya that it wasn't fair that Napoleon was fully clothed while he was completely nude. That he wanted bare skin against bare skin. Napoleon shouldn't have been surprise, since he had a firm grip on Napoleon, when Illya decided to lead him into the bedroom. A much more sensible place to continue this.

Getting Napoleon's clothes off proved difficult since Illya was finding areas that had Napoleon wiggling. Before Napoleon knew what was happening Illya, with one hefty shove, had Napoleon sprawled across the bed. Napoleon looked up as he stood at the side of the bed and could almost see Illya letting his analytical brain take in his partner's body. Napoleon had him by twenty pounds. His chest was nice and broad with just enough hair, his waistline was a bit thicker, but his stomach was flat, which Napoleon was particularly proud of. Then Illya did something Napoleon hadn't thought he'd do ... he backed off. Napoleon could read his thoughts. Was he seriously thinking of having sex with Napoleon?

Napoleon lifted his head off the bed, his expression one of disbelief. It was enough to bring the devilment out in Illya once again. Illya pounced on top of Napoleon rubbing their lower extremities together, doing a little frottage. The friction felt delicious and Napoleon must have enjoyed it too, he matched Illya rut for rut.

Much too soon, Napoleon's body arched as his sperm shot all over his chest. Illya was somewhat disappointed, since he was still hard as a rock. That didn't last long as Napoleon, once he came down from his high, leaned over and practically swallowed Illya's cock. In spite of his never having done this before, Napoleon did a commendable job. In the aftermath's glow, they lay sprawled on the bed The Master's book forgotten on the living room floor.