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The Heart of the Matter
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Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
"Napoleon, what *are* you doing?" Ilya turned over in bed and was
greeted with the sight of his partner's backside. The rest of the
Chief Enforcement Agent for UNCLE was somewhere below the edge of the
mattress.
"It's after midnight." Napoleon's voice, smooth as ever seemed to be
coming from the general region of the floor.
"And..." Ilya leaned over to turn on the light.
"Leave it off!" Napoleon's command voice. Not that he was in the
habit of giving orders to his partner. Actually, Ilya associated the
short peremptory tones with danger. Usually, Napoleon would be
saying, "Down!" Or, "Behind you!", and Ilya would instinctively do as
he was told. To be fair, he too issued orders on similar occasions.
Getting Napoleon to follow them was a different matter.
"Napoleon? Are you all right?"
"Fine." The handsome face reappeared smiling as if he'd found
something wonderful; which indeed he had. "Close your eyes."
"Napoleon, it's dark in here, already."
"Don't be a spoilsport. Come on, you see in the dark like a cat."
"They're closed are you happy?"
"Oh yes." Ilya heard the sound of a lighter in use then the odor of
warm wax permeated the room.
"Napoleon?"
"Just a second." The mattress bounced a little. "Okay. Open up."
Ilya opened his eyes and saw a small heart-shaped cake covered in
rich chocolate icing. The words "I love you" in the Cyrillic alphabet
surrounded five red candles and one white one.
"Happy Valentine's Day" Napoleon said softly.
"Napoleon, it's almost two in the morning."
"Of course, it's February 14th." Napoleon frowned. "It's chocolate;
your favorite, remember?"
"Napoleon you didn't have to do this. You know how I feel." Ilya was
touched but he'd be damned if he'd let his partner know this. It was
hard enough keeping his romantic partner in check as it was.
"I know I didn't *have* to. I *wanted* to."
"Thank you, Napoleon. If it's all right with you, we can eat your
cake with our breakfast. I'll even let you make me coffee."
"You don't want to cut it now?"
"Napoleon, we'll get crumbs in the bed."
"Never mind, forget the whole thing." Napoleon muttered and rolled
out of their bed managing to keep the hot wax from dripping on the
sheets.
Oh-oh. Ilya had pushed too far. Now his partner was upset. Perfect.
Ilya fished around under his pillow then followed the glow of the
candles to the living room. His partner, as naked as the day he was
born, was staring out of the window. For a brief moment, Ilya wished
he lived in the next building with a set of binoculars. Napoleon's
body by candle light was something to dream about.
"Polya?"
"Now, you want to make nice."
"I'm sorry, Polya. You know I'm not my best until I'm fully awake."
An outright lie. Any enforcement agent who needed time to "wake up"
usually was the honored guest at his own wake. THRUSH rarely gave you
a chance to rub the sleep out of your eyes and get your bearings. "I
will eat the cake on one condition."
"And what is that?" Napoleon turned to look at the pale body gleaming
in the low light.
"That you open this." Ilya handed over a slim black velvet case.
"What's in it?" Napoleon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Open it and see." Ilya smiled.
"Okay, but you cut the cake first."
"Polya, what have you done?"
"Cut the cake and find out. Hurry, the light's about to go out."
Ilya took the small silver knife that had been placed on the plate
and cut a wedge bearing the word "You." As he began to raise it to
his lips, he realized it was chained to the rest of the pastry. Ilya
carefully tugged on the small chain and revealed a slender circle of
gold with no clasp or pendant.
Napoleon didn't know which was more arousing: the sight of Ilya
shaking his head and smiling or the sight of him putting the chain
into his mouth and slowly drawing it forth licked clean of chocolate
icing and cake crumbs. "I know you don't like a lot of fuss, the
links are engraved with the a date October 17th."
"The date of the Russian Revolution? Napoleon, you are a capitalist."
Ilya peered at the small gold links.
"It's also the date I first saw you." Napoleon explained.
"Polya, that was in May."
"No, Mr. Waverly introduced me to you in May. I first saw you in your
lab on October 17th the year before."
"Oh." Ilya swallowed. "You haven't opened yours yet.
Napoleon undid the catch and raised the lid of the box. Nestled in
the white satin was another chain, also without a clasp. "Ilya, this
is wonderful." He came closer to what was left of the little candles
to examine his present. "What are these?"
"Our initials in my language." Ilya smiled at the dark head bent
before him.
"HI?"
"In the Cyrillic alphabet, capital 'N' is written with a character
that is your capital 'H.'"
"Clever."
"I thought you would like the misdirection."
"Ilya, you know if it were possible, I'd marry you in Saint Patrick's
or Saint Basil's with all the trimmings. THRUSH knows I love you.
Hell, they knew before you did. Mr. Waverly has no problem with our
relationship. Our friends know, my family... As for the rest of the
world..."
Ilya leaned forward. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself." Napoleon surrendered to a scorching kiss. Ilya tasted
of chocolate and honey an intriguing combination. Napoleon took his
time sampling every inch of the mouth which offered itself to his
attentions. He nearly bit Ilya's tongue when he felt insistent
fingers rolling and pinching his nipples.
The candles guttered out restoring the darkness. Neither man needed
to see what they were doing. Each scar, each fold of flesh was
familiar territory. Ilya's strong hands were now rubbing his
partner's sides and back as Napoleon covered him. A pair of slender
legs raised higher as Napoleon continued to map out the landscape of
warm skin belonging to his lover.
"Polya, the lubricant..."
"Hmmmm?" Napoleon was busy. Besides, he been taught not to talk when
his mouth was full.
"It's in the bedroom."
"So much for that." Napoleon reached over and scooped up some icing.
Ilya almost shouted when he felt those same fingers smearing the
confection on his cock. "You were saying?"
Ilya only smiled as Napoleon began to swirl his tongue over the
tumescent organ, coating it with chocolate. Holding Ilya's hips
firmly in place, Napoleon began to go off his diet with a vengeance.
His partner moaned and hissed. Even in the dark, one could see his
white-blond hair flying as he tossed his head from side to side.
Napoleon was otherwise occupied and so missed the whirlwind. He
inhaled his Russian to the base and was lost to sight and Ilya's
twitching thighs muffled most of the sound. Taste, touch, and smell
would do in any case. The flavor and aroma of rich chocolate mingled
most pleasantly with the sharper scent and taste of his lover.
Napoleon's tongue was having a magnificent time; gliding over silky
skin, fluttering past rigid veins and lapping the salty-sweet essence
that had begun to leak from the tip of the happy organ.
Just as it seemed Napoleon was about to redefine the phrase "All
night diner," Ilya erupted and a new flavor was added to the heady
mixture. Trembling, Napoleon felt himself being dragged upwards and
enfolded by arms that had brought death to many but only pleasure to
himself.
"You enjoyed that." Ilya murmured between soft kisses.
"I did, come to think of it."
"I think it's time I took the Emperor to bed."
"I'm fine right here."
"Yes but the lubricant..."
"...is in the bedroom." Two voices.
Sighing, Napoleon got to his feet and almost screamed when Ilya's
tongue took a quick swipe at his still-erect member. Grabbing, his
partner's hand, Napoleon raced for the bedroom. He paused long enough
to fish the fat metal tube out of the bedside drawer then proceeded
to prepare himself.
"Would you like some?" Napoleon offered the tube to his lover.
"No, thank you. You're driving." Ilya's grin was barely visible in
the darkness.
"Once around the park..." Napoleon's fingers were smearing the clear
jelly into the fevered orifice before him. "Fast or slow?"
"You're the one with his hands on the wheel..."
Napoleon laughed and inserted himself. "Just a Sunday drive officer.
No speeding." He began to thrust taking his time. Ilya's calves were
resting on his lover's shoulders; he was completely open to the other
man. Napoleon was the only one in the world to see Ilya's trust, to
have Ilya's love. The thought was enough of a distraction to enable
him to delay his own orgasm.
He purposely ignored Ilya's organ until the final moments. At the
surprisingly gentle touch, Ilya arched his back as Napoleon slammed
into him. Bursts of fiery pleasure radiated throughout the Russian's
body. "Dushka moi!"
Napoleon hadn't heard. His sides heaving, he fell forward into the
only arms he trusted to keep him safe while his mind was occupied
elsewhere.
"I do love you, you know." Ilya's voice was soft.
"Uh-huh." Napoleon's brain had returned home but had yet to unpack.
"Thank you for a wonderful Valentine's Day."
"You deserve only the best."
"I know. On October 17th I caught a glimpse of it. I wasn't until May
that I received wider access."
"Speaking of which..."
"Turn over, this may take awhile."
"We've got all night, my love."
"No. We have the rest of our lives."
The End
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