Chapter 1 – Two spies walk into a bar
“Come on, Illya, it’s been a rough couple of days. We both need to let our hair down and have a little fun.” Napoleon was checking the mirror to make sure he was looking his finest for the evening ahead. “There’re several nice little clubs within walking distance of the hotel. We could pick up a couple of willing ladies and make a night of it.”
“No, thank you. I believe I’ll get a bite to eat from the pub downstairs and then spend a quiet night in. I still haven’t finished that article I started reading on the plane. You have fun your way and I’ll have fun mine.” It had been Illya’s turn to get roughed up and he looked a bit frayed around the edges.
“Staying in a hotel room and reading science journals is not fun, my friend. Someday I’m going to teach you the true meaning of fun if it’s the last thing I do. All right but don’t say I didn’t offer.” Napoleon patted his partners shoulder and sauntered out of their room in search of a way to burn off the leftover adrenalin he always had after an affair.
Illya sat watching the door for several moments before standing and entering the bathroom. Forty minutes later he walked out of the hotel and hailed a cab. Meanwhile, Napoleon was just stepping out into the cold London rain. Although there were a few lovely ladies in the first club, none of them were exactly what he was looking for and he’d decided to try another. He was looking left and right trying to decide which direction to try next when he saw his partner enter a cab. “Now where are you going partner mine?” He quickly hailed his own cab. “Follow that cab.”
The cab driver turned an incredulous look at the dark haired agent.”You having me on? I’ve been drivin’ for fifteen years and no one’s ever actually said that to me.”
Napoleon grinned at the cab driver. “Well, let me be the first. Don’t lose them but follow at a distance. We wouldn’t want to get caught now, would we?
“Yes sir! Are we the secret agents or the hit men?” the driver asked with a cheeky grin.
“Oh, the secret agents, definitely, they’re far sexier.” Napoleon sat back and watched the rain soaked city pass by the window. He was a bit surprised to find they were not leaving the Soho district, only moving into a seedier section. The taxi stopped a block back from where Illya was getting out of his cab. After paying the driver, Napoleon stepped from the taxi and into a shadow to watch as his friend and partner glanced up and down the street before walking down a gaudily lit street. Both sides of the street were lit with flashing lights that advertised girls, sex, and striptease dancing. What the hell was his prudish partner doing in the red light district of Soho? He saw Illya stop and ducked back down a side street before being seen. When he looked again, he saw the blonds’ back entering a club. Napoleon waited a moment and then sauntered casually toward the building stopping to peek into the window to find a mannequin dressed in a leather corset and a number of sex toys that would make a sailor blush. A conservatively dressed bald man stood guarding the door. “Is this a private club?”
“No, sir. You do know what kind of club this is?”
“Yes, I believe I do. May I enter?” Napoleon was relieved when the man opened the door allowing him access. Just inside the door Napoleon was greeted by a heavy set man wearing a Victorian suit set off with a large orange cravat. This gentleman took his coat and made a sweeping gesture toward a set of stairs that led down to music and the sound of voices.
As Napoleon entered the main room, his senses were filled with light, sound, and color. Men and women moved around each other in an age old dance that the dark-haired agent recognized quite well. He also recognized that many of the ladies in attendance were not women. As he entered the lights dimmed and a single spotlight illuminated a beautiful woman. Napoleon quickly found a seat and watched as the woman began to belt out a love song. He had a hell of a voice and a way of pulling every eye in the place to him.
Dressed from neck to ankle in navy blue sequins and wearing a beautifully quaffed blonde beehive, he was stunning. When the song ended the performer took his bows and stepped off the stage. He walked with such sensuality and grace that Napoleon could not help but allow his eyes to follow. It was in this way that Solo found his partner. The performer sat at a table of laughing people and there, sitting with them was Illya Kuryakin. The singer who had just joined the group received a kiss on the cheek from the blond agent and dimpled prettily.
Napoleon rose from his seat and stood staring at the tableau. It was at that moment that Illya looked up and their eyes met. The smiling face suddenly went pale and the blue eyes widened with fear. Through all of the horrors they had experienced, Napoleon could never remember seeing such an expression on the Russian’s face. Then the cold expression the younger man used to cover a myriad of emotions slammed into place.
Feeling numb, Napoleon turned on his heel and left the club, not knowing or caring where he was going.
Life went on in the club. Laughter and light and music continued but Illya Kuryakin heard or saw nothing. Not until a well manicured hand was placed over his and soft words broke through to him. “Nicky? Are you all right, honey? Who was that?”
“That was my partner and superior. That was the end of my career and possibly my life. I’m sorry, Desrae, but I must leave. I… thank you for your hospitality.” Illya rose on unsteady legs and turned to leave.
Before he could take more than a step, Desrae put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “You’re scaring me, honey. You don’t mean it literally when you say your life, do you?”
Blue eyes met brown and Desrae felt a chill run through his body as Illya spoke, “I have not always been entirely honest with you. I… where I come from, I could be executed for being… for lying with men. The man who just left here could end my life with a word. Even if he takes pity on me and does not turn me over to my government as a deviant, he will most certainly end my career.
The entertainer looked up, and upon making eye contact with another of the club entertainers, motioned for him to come closer. “Take Nicky to my dressing room, get him a drink and don’t let him leave until I get back.”
“No, Desrae, this is not something you can fix. N… my partner is a dangerous man and I don’t think he is in the mood to talk right now. Please, leave it be.”
“I’m sorry, Nicky, but I can’t do that. And don’t worry about me; I know how to handle dangerous men. You forget who I sleep with. Now, where are you staying?” When it became obvious that Illya would not answer, the entertainer leaned into his personal space and spoke with an intensity that the Russian could not deny. “Where are you staying?”
With a deep sigh Illya told him, “The Russell, but you are making a terrible mistake.”
“It’s mine to make, honey. You stay here and I’ll be right back.” Turning to the beautiful dark skinned performer he said, “Make sure he gets anything he needs or wants. The club will pay for it.”
Illya watched as Desrae pushed his way from the bar with mixed feelings. He knew he should follow his old school mate, stop him before he got hurt. But he couldn’t wrap his head around all that had just happened. Realizing he had nowhere else to go he allowed himself to be led to the back of the club.
“I can’t believe I was so reckless,” he murmured to no one in particular. “I have an excellent job that I like and that am very good at. Up until a few minutes ago, I had a partner who respected me and treated me as an equal. What was I thinking, coming here?”
Cocoa smiled and nodded knowingly, “People like Desrae can make you act a little crazy.”
“I just needed to be with people who understood…”
“I know, believe me, I know.” The dark skinned beauty opened the door to Desrae’s dressing room. “Sometimes the cost is high, but it’s worth it in the end.”
Illya wasn’t sure he believed that but he closed his eyes and hoped it was true.
Chapter 2- The spy and the lady
Desrae swept into the lobby of the Bedford with as much poise and grace as the Queen herself. He immediately caught sight of the dark-haired man he was looking for through the double doors leading into the pub. Seating himself next to Napoleon Desrae ordered a drink.
“What are you doing here?” Napoleon snarled.
Desrae pursed his lips. “We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Napoleon said.
“Good because I have a lot to say to you and I don’t want to be interrupted. Your only choice is if you want to hear it in public or in private.”
When Napoleon continued to nurse his drink without acknowledging him, Desrae continued, “Fine, I’m sure the bartender would be happy to hear what I have to say to you.”
The dark-haired agent rose from the barstool and walked stiffly to a small table near the back of the pub. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk, but he didn’t want a public confrontation either.
As soon as they were seated, Desrae spoke. “Nicky is my friend and anyone who threatens him has a problem. If you hurt him, they won’t find your body for weeks, if ever.
Desrae could tell from the grim smile on the other man’s face that the incongruity of a man dressed in a sequined dress threatening him was unexpected. “I’m not that easy to kill. What makes you think I’d hurt him?”
“He said you would report him to your superiors and that they would send him back to his homeland where he would be executed.” The stunned look on the handsome face across the table stopped him.
“I wouldn’t do that to him. I’ll… work something out, a transfer or...”
When Desrae had followed Napoleon from the club he’d believed Nicky was in danger. Now he wasn’t so sure. “Why? Why ‘work something out?’ Why not just go on as usual?”
“Illya has been my partner for three years. I’ve trusted him at my back. Put my life in his hands. Now I find out he’s queer and a liar. How can I just pretend I don’t know that? Tell me, is he a john or is he one of your whores?”
The sharp crack of palm striking cheek echoed through the pub. “You are an arsehole. Do you know so little about your partner? Do you really believe any of the shite that just came out of that pretty mouth?”
The brunet sat still as a stone for several seconds before speaking. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. No I don’t believe that of Illya.” Napoleon caught the bartender’s eye and motioned to his empty glass. “Would you like another drink?”
“No, I think one of us should stay sober.” Desrae took a good, long look at the man seated beside him. “Why are you so angry? I know how most straight men feel about gay men, but you know N… Illya. Tell me something, did you trust him with your life before today?”
“So what’s different now?” Desrae asked.
“Did he ever tell you what we do? Who he works for?”
The apparent non sequitur caused Desrae to pause before answering. “No. A few years ago he told me he had been offered an exciting position. He said he had to do some specialized training first but he felt he would have no problem there and I agreed with him. He’s brilliant, you know? We were right, he passed, but I wasn’t sure I liked some of the changes in him. There was always darkness behind those blue eyes. Something that said his life had been hard, but he’d survived and proven himself harder. He was also a sweet, shy, caring man. Something at that school turned him into a cold, ruthless man. When I look into your eyes I see the same look I see in his. It’s the look of a killer. I got the feeling the new position was with some sort of law enforcement agency. Or at least I hoped so because if it wasn’t, then he was going to work for some very bad people and I didn’t want that kind of life for him. He’s been back a few times since then. I’m happy to say most times I see that sweet boy I knew in Cambridge. But every now and again I see that other man, the one who could kill another human being and step over the body like it was just so much rubish.”
Desrae felt a deep sadness at the thought of his sweet friend becoming a killer. Napoleon’s next words soothed him immensely. “It was law enforcement. We’re field agents for U.N.C.L.E.” Desrae had heard of the organization and nodded to let Napoleon know it. “Sometimes we do have to kill. It’s never an easy choice, but we do it because if we don’t the bad guys win. A good partner helps you stay sane. Illya’s the best partner I’ve ever had.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“As partners it’s imperative that we trust each other. I have to know Illya will watch my back and visa versa. We have to know we can count on each other. He’s lied to me, how can I trust him after that?” The American lay his palm over his eyes rubbing his temples with his thumb and middle finger.
“He didn’t lie to you. He kept a very personal and private part of his life from you. Have you told him everything about yourself? Does he know every single detail of your life?” He’d been watching the man seated across from him and come to a rather interesting conclusion and decided to test it. “Does he know you’re bi?” Desrae waited for the explosion. It didn’t take long.
“What? No! I’m not…”
“Oh honey, if I had a nickel for every man who’s said that to me. I’m not bi. I’m not gay. I’m not a queer. I’m not. You boys work for an international organization. In some of the countries you travel to, being homosexual is a death sentence. We live in a time when being gay can get you beat to death in some dark alley. I understand, believe me. You don’t walk the streets of London dressed the way I do and not understand.”
“I can’t be gay. I’m not…” He made a vague gesture toward Desrae.
The beauty finally understood. So many men seemed to think being gay meant being effeminate. “Well, of course not. We can’t all be this fabulous.” Desrae decided Illya’s partner needed to see both sides of the coin.” Come on, honey. I have someone I think you should meet.”
“You and Illya aren’t lovers?”
Peals of laughter sounded from the corner of the pub. “No, honey, we are definitely not lovers. We have very similar taste in men and it’s not each other. I really think you need to talk to Joey. I know trust isn’t your strong suit but trust me on this one. I promise it will be all right.” Desrae rose and reached out a well-manicured hand. “Are you coming?”
Napoleon stared at the hand, then after a moment, took it. “Against my better judgment, yes. If we’re going to continue to be partners, I need things to be right between Illya and myself.”
Chapter 3- The Key to Napoleon
When Napoleon realized they were headed back to the club, he balked. “I’m not sure I’m ready to face Illya just yet.”
Desrae turned to face him. “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, Napoleon, but not yet. I told the girls to take him back to my dressing room and give him anything he wanted to drink. He’ll have been drowning his sorrows in that terrible vodka since I left. I told you there was someone I want you to meet. Trust me.”
With those words Desrae turned and, smiling at the doorman, entered the club. As they entered the club proper Desrae began scanning the crowd until he found who he was looking. As they approached the man, Napoleon had time to notice dark hair cut short and combed straight back from a face that was just a little too thick to be considered handsome. Napoleon also noted the expensive Italian suit that covered a barrel-chested body that had probably been powerful, in his youth but was beginning to soften with age and easy living. Desrae met the dark-eyed man with a kiss. “Joey, this is… I just realized I don’t know your name.”
“Solo, Napoleon Solo.”
“Really? Oh my. Darling, this is Nicky’s boss. Joey is the owner of this club and my lover.”
Had Napoleon not been the consummate spy that he was, his jaw would have dropped at that comment. As it was, he gave a small nod and offered his hand. The firm handshake didn’t surprise him. Joey was not anything like the few homosexual men he’d met. This was not an effeminate, limp wristed fairy. Nor was he one of those sad, bitter old men who used a young man while belittling him for being a fag.
“Why don’t we find a nice quiet table where the two of you can talk and have a drink?” Desrae turned and led the way to a corner table. Once seated with drinks ordered, he turned to Joey. “Napoleon is a bit confused about how a homosexual man looks or acts. He thinks, if he admits to being attracted to men, he’ll suddenly become something else. I’m going to leave you gentlemen to talk while I go check on Nicky.”
Napoleon felt more than a little shell shocked and sat, watching the beauty walk away. He turned when he heard a low chuckle. “Desrae tends to leave you a little breathless doesn’t he?”
“Umm, yes.” The agent turned to meet the club owner’s eyes. “Are you really his… I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“Des has made it your business. Yes, he and I are lovers.” Dark eyes searched Napoleon’s face. Something changed in the older man’s face and he continued in a softer voice. “I married young. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted, but it was what I was supposed to do. We had a son who’s a grown man now. I wasn’t happy in my marriage, but I made it work. I inherited this club a few years ago. When I came to check it out, I found the most beautiful man I’d ever seen holding court. I could no more deny the attraction than I could fly. He helped me face some things about myself. We fell in love. The rest, as they say, is history. I do my duty to my wife and son but it’s only here, when I’m with Desrae, that I feel alive.”
Napoleon rubbed a knuckle across his lower lip. Everything he thought he knew about homosexuals was being swept away. Joey didn’t fit into any of the homosexual stereotypes. As a matter of fact, he reminded Napoleon of himself in a way. Even as the thought crossed his mind, an earlier conversation replayed in his mind. ‘Illya and I have very similar taste in men.’ Other memories played across his mind; a shy, sweet smile that only he could coax out of his partner; Illya batting his eyes flirtatiously; a very prickly and grumpy Illya watching as Napoleon got ready to go out on a date with a beautiful woman. “I’m a fool.”
The tiniest of smiles crossed Joey’s face. ”Why do you say that?”
“I…Nicky has been flirting with me for months, maybe even longer, and I never saw it. Some spy I am.”
Joey jerked his head up. “Spy?”
“The man you know as Nicky and I are agents for U.N.C.L.E.” Napoleon saw the man closing down. He suddenly didn’t want that to happen. He needed this man to trust him. “You have nothing to be concerned about. Nicky comes here to be with people he can relax around. I’m here to… figure things out, apparently. Neither of us wants to cause you any trouble. I think he and I need this place and people like you and Desrae.”
Joey seemed to find truth in Napoleon’s eyes. He took a drink from his glass before asking, “How old were you the first time you realized you were attracted to a male?”
Napoleon frowned, “When I was fourteen. This boy I’d grown up with asked me if I’d ever kissed anyone. I said no. He asked me if I’d like to. I said yes. We spent as much time together as we could manage. We were just a couple of kids, exploring the possibilities. There was a lot of kissing and groping each other, the things two teenagers do together, you know. Before we managed to work up to anything else, his older brother caught us. Both families tried to lay the blame on the other. His family finally moved away and I was sent to a shrink. He… attached electrodes to my penis and testicles and showed me pictures of men having sex with each other. If I got an erection, I received a painful shock. Next, he showed me pictures of straight couples having sex. He used a different frequency to cause a mild pleasurable sensation until I got hard. Eventually it worked, sort of. I didn’t tell him I still found the pictures of the men arousing in my head. As long as my dick behaved, he seemed happy. I was sent home, cured.”
“I haven’t thought about that for years. I sleep with a lot of women and I enjoy the chase. I pride myself in pleasuring them. I even get some form of release myself. But the truth is, it’s never enough. I try to care for them, I even got married. I hoped that if I just did everything I was supposed to I’d be happy. When she died in a car crash, I gave up trying to love. I genuinely like women, I just don’t love them.” Napoleon met Joey’s eyes realizing they had both tried to be normal and it hadn’t worked for either of them.
“Desrae helps men deal with things like this. I suppose most people would call him a rent boy but he thinks of himself as a therapist. You should talk to him.” Joey motioned to one of the servers and they quickly received refills.
Napoleon took a long drink before speaking. “I don’t know if I can do that. This is all happening too fast; it’s too different from what I’m accustomed to. Everyone here seems so open and comfortable in their own skin. I don’t even know if it would help. I think I’m just…broken. The very idea of being with a man that way makes my dick want to crawl up inside of me. It still expects the pain.”
“Napoleon, none of us started out comfortable with what we needed. Things are a bit better than when I was a boy but for the most part society still looks down on us. Des was kicked out of his father’s home when his parents found out he was secretly dressing in his mother’s clothes. Most of the men here have been disowned by their families and those who haven’t been are still deeply in the closet. That’s what this club is all about; we give them a family who accepts them and a place where they can be themselves.”
“In the closet?” A small frown appeared on Napoleon’s face as he worked out the meaning. “Is that what I am? That seems to fit pretty well, doesn’t it? I’m hiding way in the back of the closet hoping no one notices me watching my… handsome men.”
“It’s all right, honey. You can say it here; watching your partner. That’s what you started to say, isn’t it?” Napoleon actually jumped, He hadn’t heard Desrae walk up behind him until he spoke. The fact that anyone could walk up behind him without his knowledge shook him. He needed to get himself together before some random Thrush agent took him out. “I’ve told Illya that you want to talk. He’s calm, too calm. I tried to explain that everything would be all right but I don’t think he believes me. I’ll take you back to my dressing room so you’ll have some privacy to work this out between you. Be truthful with him, Napoleon. No matter how scary that is, it’s vital that you tell him the truth, all of it.”
Napoleon rose on shaky legs, nodded a farewell to Joey and followed Desrae to the back of the club. Des was right; he had to tell Illya the truth. He was tired of living in that dark, dusty closet alone. He was tired of being afraid to love.
Chapter 4 – From Russia with Love
As they reached the door to the dressing room, Napoleon rested a hand on Desrae’s arm. “Stay with me? I don’t normally admit to being scared, but this scares me worse than flying bullets or crazy megalomaniacs.” After a moment of thought Des nodded and they entered the room.
Illya sat still and composed. His face showed no more emotion than if he was waiting for a bus. Napoleon smiled wanly. “Hey, partner, I’ve been told I’m an asshole and I think that’s a pretty good description. I owe you an apology.”
“An apology? For what?”
“For running out of here and leaving you to think the worst. My leaving wasn’t for the reason you think. We need to talk, or rather I need to talk and you need to listen. Okay?” When Illya’s head moved in a slow affirmative Napoleon continued. “I’ve ask Desrae to stay if that’s all right with you. What I have to say isn’t easy to tell.”
As Napoleon told his story for the second time that evening, Illya’s face became less and less human and more like an ice sculpture. Napoleon recognized the look; it was the one his partner used to cover any strong emotion. He heard a gasp from Desrae but from his partner, nothing. When he was finished he found a drink being shoved into his hand by his new friend while Illya sat still as a stone. “Say something.”
“Is the psychiatrist who ‘treated’ you still alive?” Illya’s eyes had become two shards of ice.
It was not what Napoleon had expected his partner to say. “Uhh, I’m not sure; he was older when he saw me. You can’t kill him though.”
“Because they would probably send you back to Russia for doing something like. Good partners are hard to find and I’m not up to training a new one. I like the one I’ve got.” Napoleon felt relief flood through him. Illya wasn’t angry with him.
A smile played around the corner of Illya’s mouth. “Could I hook him up to electrodes and show him pornographic pictures then?”
“Well, that might be acceptable if he’s still alive and capable of getting an erection.” Napoleon tried for a thoughtful look but he couldn’t help the happy smile that spread across his face. Everything was going to be all right.
Illya leaned forward, his voice soft, “So, where do we go from here? I think, since you have been so candid with me, I should tell you that my feelings for you are rather more than just friendship. I know you will need some time to readjust your world view, but I want you to know I’m here and willing to help you in any way that I can. No strings attached.”
“It may take some time for Napoleon to be able to make love as nature intended him to. That thrice-cursed psychologist did a lot of damage. I’ve helped men with this problem before. I would like to offer my services.” Desrae had seated himself as far from the other two men as he could manage in the small room. “I know you may not be ready for that yet, but when you feel ready you know where I am.”
“No, I don’t want to be like this any longer. What would you do? I… um… as you might imagine, I’m a bit skittish around any kind of sexual, ah, therapy.”
“If you are sure, let’s go somewhere more private. I have everything we might need back at my flat. We will start out slowly and move at whatever speed you feel comfortable with.” Desrae began gathering his purse and wrap.
“Napoleon, I want to help if I can. May I join you in this? I will understand if you say no.”
How many times had one of them stood and watched while doctors repaired the other after an affair. Was this really so very different? Napoleon knew that if it was Illya who needed this he would want to be there. “Yes.”
The three men left the club and walked the short distance to Desrae’s flat. Napoleon was surprised to find a neat, nicely decorated home. Somehow he had expected something much flashier. Desrae gestured toward a coat tree. “Hang your coats there. Napoleon, remove your jacket and tie. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to slip into something a bit less glamorous. Tell me, would you be more comfortable if I appeared more male or female. I can do either.”
Napoleon tried to catch a glimpse the man behind the glamorous make up and clothing. “I think I’d like to see the man, if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course, this is for you after all. Illya, you know where the liquor is; be a dear and mix us some drinks.” Desrae disappeared into what Napoleon assumed was his bedroom. As Illya mixed drinks, Napoleon tried not to dwell on what might happen in the near future. His partner slipped a cool drink into his hand and sat down beside him. Napoleon had just taken a sip when the bedroom door opened. The man who stood there seemed smaller somehow. The face was clean of make-up and the brown hair damp and slightly flat from being under a wig all night. He wore a silk dressing gown that was far too pretty to belong to a man but otherwise could have been any man on the street. His smile was a bit shy but the dimples that Napoleon had noticed earlier danced on his cheeks. “Well, here he is, the boy who was known as Desmond Raymond. What do you think?”
Napoleon smiled, “I think he’s quite attractive. Not as glamorous as Desrae perhaps but lovely in his own way.”
Fluttering his eye lashes Des smiled. “Flatterer. I bet you say that to all the boys.”
Napoleon felt himself relax. He was beginning to think he could actually do this. He watched Illya hand Desrae his drink and seat himself at the other end of the sofa. “So, now what?”
“I think we should start where that terrible quack started. I have a few films that we can watch. I want you to relax and enjoy them. Tell me if anything bothers you and feel free to ask any questions. All right?”
Napoleon looked to his partner then back to Desrae. “Okay. That sounds fairly easy. I think I can do that.”
Desrae stood and pulled Illya to his feet. “Come help me with the equipment darling.” They disappeared into the bedroom to reappear a few minutes later with a projector and screen. It only took them a few moments to set everything up and dim the lights. They rejoined Napoleon on the sofa as the film started. Napoleon felt a stab of fear as the two men on the screen began to kiss and touch each other. One sat on a couch as the other settled between his knees and lowered his head to take the first man’s cock into his mouth. Napoleon realized he’d made a sound when Illya was suddenly standing between him and the screen. “Napoleon? We can stop if you like.”
“No, I need to see this. I need to know men can feel pleasure with each other. I’m all right. Really.”
Illya moved but only to nudge Desrae out of the way and sit beside his partner. Napoleon turned his eyes back to the screen. The man on the floor had the seated man’s dick as far into his mouth as it would go and was bobbing his head enthusiastically. The seated man was moaning and cursing. Napoleon felt something in his lap and looked down to find Illya’s hand resting gently over his zipper.
A sound from the film brought his eyes back to what was happening there. The scene had changed and man number one was laying on his back while man number two was pumping into his willing body. The camera angle changed so that the sight of one man’s cock sliding in and out of the other man’s ass was up close and vivid. The hand in Napoleon’s lap began to pet him. Desrae moved to sit between his knees and Illya slowly unzipped his fly and removed his still unresponsive cock. Even knowing his partner would never hurt him Napoleon expected pain and tried to warn his partner off, “Illya?”
“Shh, let us pleasure you, lyubimyj moi. Let us show you how good it can be.” Illya leaned in and kissed him at the same moment that Desrae lowered his mouth over Napoleon’s cock. Napoleon wondered who had made the needy little sound. It felt so good and then a voice echoed in his memory. You are sick boy. Look at you, aroused by this abomination. He pulled away from the kiss with a sob.
“I’m sorry. I can’t, Illya.”
“Napoleon, do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“I would never hurt you. There is no pain here, no shame. Only us, only pleasure, only love.”
Napoleon looked down at the man between his knees. The brown eye spoke of patience and acceptance. Napoleon reached out and pulled Illya into a soul searing kiss. For several minutes there was just kissing and touching and the warm heat engulfing his cock. He heard a small chuckle and pulled away from the kiss. Illya made a little questioning sound just as Desrae spoke. “Hey boys, look what I found.”
Napoleon looked down into his lap and found a rather sizable erection. Desrae pushed himself away from the sofa and stood. Napoleon reached out and caught his hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to go get dressed and make myself scarce. I’m not needed here any longer.”
Napoleon pulled Desrae down into his lap and kissed him. Several seconds later Desrae was released and looked over at Illya with a slightly dazed smile. Illya’s lips twisted into a knowing smile. “If there is one thing I’ve learned from watching my partner, it’s that he’s quite good at leaving his paramours breathless from his kisses.”
“Yes, I’m afraid your life is never going to be dull as long as you are his lover.” Desrae lifted himself up out of Napoleon’s lap and turned toward the bedroom. “When you gentlemen are done with my flat, call the club and let me know. I think I’m going to want to bring Joey back here later.”
“Desrae? How can I thank you for this?” Napoleon felt he been given a great gift and he needed to let this amazing creature know how much it was appreciated.
“Be happy, Napoleon. And take care of our blond friend. That’s all I need from you.”
“I think I can promise you that.”
Desrae left the room and Napoleon turned to look into his partners eyes. A slow smile spread across the beloved face. “I think we have too many clothes on Pasha.” Neither man noticed as Desrae slipped out the front door. They were too busy mapping the contours of each other’s bodies. Illya eventually wriggled down Napoleon’s body to come face-to-face with a very erect penis.
Napoleon watched Illya’s tongue dampen his lips and then the blond leaned forward and licked the tip of Napoleon’s cock. His hips jerked up and at the same moment the blond head moved forward and engulfed him. Calloused hands gently stroked his body. Memories flashed through his mind of Illya setting explosives or defusing a bomb, of Illya killing a man with quiet efficiency or helping a little old lady across the street. The thought of how deadly and remarkable his partner was brought him to the brink. This was no innocent, this was a rapier in a silken sheath, waiting to be used to take out the next enemy, yet right now he was kneeling between Napoleon’s legs bringing more pleasure than the dark-haired man could remember ever experiencing.
“Illya, my Illya. I want… “
Illya pulled away from worshiping Napoleon’s throbbing cock and smiled, “Tell me.”
“You. I want your lips on mine. I want your hands on my body. I want… everything.”
A brilliant smile from Illya chased the last dark shadow from Napoleon’s soul, “Then you shall have it daragoj moi.”
The observant agent in Napoleon wondered where the baby oil had come from but he found he didn’t really care as he watched Illya pour some into the palm of his hand before reaching down to stroke Napoleon’s cock. Napoleon gasped, “Oh.“
Illya stood and reached behind himself to slip oil into himself, but Napoleon stopped him. “No.”
“I want you inside of me.”
“Napoleon, are you sure? This is not too much too soon?”
“God, no. I’ve lived for over twenty years, wanting and not having. Now I want it all. I want my beautiful, deadly, sharp-tongued partner to claim me. I want to feel you inside of me. Now.”
Illya’s blue eyes turned dark with passion as he reached down to fist his own erection. “We must go slowly. I promised you there would be no pain and I intend to keep that promise. It would be best if we lay side by side. Let’s see if we can find a bed.”
Moments later the two lay spooned together. Napoleon tried to turn and face him, but Illya wouldn’t let him. “Please, I want to see your face.”
“Next time daragoj moi. Trust me; it will be better this way the first time.” Before Napoleon could argue an oil-slicked finger slipped inside and he lost the ability to speak. Illya took his time moving in and out of Napoleon, first with one thick finger and then, when Napoleon thought he would go insane, a second digit joined the first and he saw stars.
“Illya, please.” Some part of Napoleon was appalled at the whining quality of his voice but he really couldn’t care less.
“Is there something you want, lyubimyj?”
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“Perish the thought. I have much better plans for you my dear partner. Do you think you have overcome your aversion to homosexual interaction?”
“Oh, yes, like that. A… aversion? Did I say I had an aversion to this? How very foolish of me.”
“Oh, good. I’m going to remove my fingers now.”
“Remove them at your own peril.”
“Not to worry, I promise to replace them with something much better.”
“Oh. Well. Carry on then. I didn’t mean to… mmm… suggest you didn’t… oh… know what you were do-o-o...”
That was the last rational thought that Napoleon Solo had for several long, glorious minutes. His whole world became the slow glide of Illya’s cock filling him to the point of almost pain. Just as he was sure he could take no more, Illya’s cock touched something inside of him that sent sparks of pleasure to every part of his body and he cried out. Illya stopped moving and simply lay there waiting for his dark-haired lover to adjust to this new feeling. “Napoleon?”
Napoleon’s brain was melting and he found it difficult to put words together. “Don’t stop. God, please don’t stop. So good, so full. Please.”
Napoleon felt the lips on his neck curve into a smile as his lover began to move in slow, languid strokes. A calloused hand reached around to take Napoleons thick cock in hand and began stroking in time to Illya’s thrusts. He heard words he could only guess the meaning of whispered into his ear, “Ty nuzhen mnye. (I need you.)”
Napoleon felt teeth rake along his neck as the strokes became harder, faster, and more frantic. Although he didn’t recognize all of the words, the sound of Illya’s voice told him all he needed to know, “Ya lyublyu tyebya fsyei dushoj. (I love you with all my soul.)”
The sweet pleasure/pain of Illya’s cock filling him combined with the passion he heard in Illya’s voice had Napoleon babbling and begging and when Illya’s teeth bit down hard where neck and shoulder met he felt himself come undone. He couldn’t have stopped the orgasm that roared through his body if his life had depended on it. Moments later he heard a growl in his ear and felt Illya stiffen as he reached his own release.
For minutes or hours or days, they lay in stunned silence. Only when Illya’s spent cock slipped from his body did Napoleon make a small sound of discontent. His lover pulled him around and kissed him soundly before pulling him into a loving embrace. “As soon as I have to energy to move, I’m going to drag you back to our hotel room and keep you there until Uncle Waverly sends a search party looking for us.” A warm chuckle from Napoleon was all the answer Illya got or needed.