This first is inspired by Dom's beautiful piece:
Napoleon Solo dragged his weary body into his penthouse and stopped.
There was something different; something..... Senses alert, and more than slightly puzzled, he continued through the apartment, his dark eyes taking in every unusual detail: the fire blazing in the fire place; the candlelit table set for two waiting on the terrace; and the pot containing his favorite dish, Spaghetti ala' Solo, simmering in the kitchen. Then he heard it - the subtle sounds of movement in the bedroom.
Moving with extreme caution, one hand caressing the butt of his gun, he made his way to the room. Reaching the entrance, he stopped dead in his tracks. *Surely I've died and gone to heaven!* he thought, as he beheld the vision before him. His bed was draped in red satin, from the huge pillows to the thick comforter. Reclining against one of those pillows, his body gloriously nude (except for the bouquet of blue forget-me-nots covering the genitals), was Illya Kuryakin. Solo felt his mouth go dry as he drank in the sight. The Russian smiled as sky blue eyes regarded him hungrily.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Napasha", Illya purred. "I hope you don't mind, but I simply couldn't resist dropping by to thank you for the lovely forget-me-nots."
Solo, still unable to speak, continued to stare.
Illya took his partner's silence for 'yes'. "Good. Dinner will be ready in an hour; however, knowing you as well as I do, you'll want desert first. I came prepared."
Solo's gaze followed the direction in which one slim finger pointed, coming to rest on a can of whipped cream and a heart-shaped box of Bon-Bon. Smiling, he shed his clothes, for once leaving them where they fell.
*Yes*, he thought. *A Kuryakin sundae is just what Cupid ordered* Grabbing the items he approached the bed.
The second one wrote itself:
Illya Kuryakin stood on the balcony of the penthouse, his eyes turned heavenward, and sent a silent prayer to the spirit of his grandmother that all the stories of love she had enthralled him with were true. The moon enveloped his nude body in almost ethereal glow as he began.
"Starlight, star bright....." The livingroom door opened and closed behind him.; footsteps approached.
"First star I see tonight....." The footsteps stop, a sudden intake of breathe.
"Wish I may....." The distinct whisper of clothing being shed; the footsteps resumed.
"Wish I might....." The footsteps stopped inches from him.
"Have the wish I wish tonight." Strong arms pulled him into a gentle embrace; warm lips nuzzled at his throat sending sweet sensations to the core of his soul.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Illyusha", whispered the beloved voice. "Shall we make our wishes come true?"
Turning in the embrace, Illya looked up into Solo's face and fell in love all over again.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Napasha. You are my wish come true."
The happiness radiating from Solo's face ignited his Gypsy blood. With a cry of exhilaration, and summoning a strength his never knew, he flung the startled American over his shoulders and headed for the bedroom.