'The Action Hero's Handbook II.V- How to Turn Sexual Tension Into Mad, Passionate Sex'
//Step 1: Recognize the signs of sexual tension.//
"Durak! Syn iz negodyaj prostitutka!" Illya shouted, pacing the room. He whirled around, coming face to face with his partner, his cheeks flushed, breath coming in heavy draughts. "Don't you ever, *ever* put me through something like that again!"
"Right, because it was my fault! Because I wanted to be captured!" He tossed off a bitterly sarcastic smile, throwing his arms up in surrender. "Fine, be that way!"
"Don't you understand?" Illya grabbed him roughly by his shoulders, pulling him close.
Too close, Napoleon reflected, feeling a familiar tightness in his groin. Fighting with Illya made him think too much about what sex with Illya might be like.
"You never explained it to me, did you?" He challenged, praying his partner would push him away, like he had at other times.
Instead, Illya fixed him with an even gaze, eyes dilated until only the barest rim of bright blue remained around large dark pupils. "Don't you understand... I thought I'd lost you..."
//Step 2: Pick your moment.//
It was, he reflected, the perfect time to do this, if do this he was going to. On the run, holed up in a decrepit pink-and-green motel, a stain which looked suspiciously like blood soaked deep into the mattress of one of the two beds in the room.
Add to that 'unfortunate' sleeping situation the adrenaline that still coursed through the veins of both men after the escape that almost wasn't, the emotions laid bare by the argument-- itself an emotional one, since Illya seemed to be mad at Napoleon only because he'd been worried.
If it was meant to be, Napoleon decided, it would happen tonight. Illya would be his, not just for the end of this affair, but for the rest of their lives.
//Step 3: Begin to heighten the sexual tension slowly.//
"I'm sorry." He said softly, stopping the Russian from dropping his gaze. "I know how you feel..."
"You don't--"
"I do. Trust me, Illya, I know." Illya's hands had dropped from his shoulders, and he reached up to stroke the blond's arm.
"Napoleon..." He tried to break away.
"Let's not fight, okay?" Napoleon caught him gently by the wrist, his other hand turning Illya's face back to his. "After all we've been through... you must be exhausted."
Illya nodded, struggling with an apology he was too stubborn to make. Napoleon smiled and reached up to brush the hair back from his partner's eyes.
"Don't mention it."
"I didn't."
He shrugged. "You don't have to."
//Step 4: Create an opportunity to talk.//
"I'm going to take the shower, if you don't mind." Illya said tiredly.
"Wait... Illya, I-- I wanted you to know, I really do understand."
"I know, Napoleon. I shouldn't have shouted at you." The closest he would come to saying he was sorry. "The conversation is over."
"No." Napoleon sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the area next to him. "I never told you... Last October when you went missing for two weeks, and everyone at Headquarters had given you up for dead..."
"But you knew I was alive that time." Illya protested. "You came looking for me, you found me. It wasn't the same, Napoleon, you didn't really think I was dead."
"I worried you were." He admitted. "Just because I didn't give up, it doesn't mean I didn't fear the worst every step. But I swore I wouldn't stop until I came back home with you, one way or another."
"Napoleon..." Illya touched his friend's arm gently.
"Lucky me, I found you alive. You wouldn't've liked the man I might've become if I'd been faced with your dead body."
"Napoleon..."
//Step 5: Begin heavy flirting.//
"It's all right." He placed his hand over Illya's, still on his arm. "I hope you like the man I'd become if you faced me with your live body."
Illya swallowed, flustered and confused. "Napoleon?"
"And I don't think I ever thanked you for pulling me out back there."
"It was nothing." He shook his head adamantly. "You do the same for me all the time, after all. It is only part of the job."
"Still... I appreciate it." He turned on the whole of his seductive charm with his next look, eyes smoldering into Illya's. "You do it very well."
"Well, I-- Thank you, but-- It's really only just--"
"You should know how glad I am to be the lucky guy to get you as a partner." Napoleon continued, his voice low and honeyed. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone else with your marksmanship skills."
Illya reddened further and reached for the water glass on the bedside table. "Thank you."
"Or a bigger gun."
It was a perfect spit take, water spewing out of Illya's mouth and onto the bloodstained bed across from the one the two spies sat on.
"Oh... dear..."
"It's okay, neither one of us has to sleep in the wet spot." Napoleon comforted faux-innocently.
If he had been foolish enough to take another drink, Illya would have lost it then.
"Well, I suppose not... I mean, we weren't going to-- well, the suspicious stains in the-- and--"
"This bed isn't stained, though." Napoleon patted the mattress between them. "Yet."
//Step 6: Examine your potential partner's body when you can do so without being too overt.//
Illya licked his lips nervously, and Napoleon's gaze remained riveted on them. Illya cleared his throat, and his partner's eyes glanced up to meet his own.
"I-- I think I was going to take a shower..." The blond stood.
Napoleon let his gaze rake over the other man's body. "Sure thing, Illya."
"If you, ah, need me for anything... that's where I'll be."
"And if I do," He paused, licking his lips and giving Illya another once-over. "... need you for anything?"
"Well, I--"
"Anything, Illya?" He stood, body once again close to Kuryakin's, eyes glued to the tempting throat peering through the collar of the black button-down.
"Well, I-- I mean-- Napoleon..."
Solo's gaze slid back up to his mouth as he tried to speak. And then, when he quieted, focus shifted to the delicate curve of an ear.
"There's not enough hot water here for two showers..."
//Step 7: Find the moment to make your move.//
After this statement, Illya did not sputter out some half-response, nor did he break away for the safety of a locked door between them. Instead, he made eye contact with his partner and held it, inky pools of azure-rimmed black burning into Napoleon's with a set challenge. Show, don't tell.
In fact, while he had been unsure at first, and flustered throughout the flirtation, Illya had matched his moves; reciprocated, even instigated touches. Offered himself, even if through a Freudian slip.
Napoleon placed his hands on Illya's waist, pulling him close. He bent his head forward to leave a chaste kiss on his partner's temple. When Illya sighed softly and tilted his face upwards in invitation, Napoleon moved to his cheek, his chin, the side of his neck, and then, finally, his lips.
The first mouth-on-mouth contact was soft and just barely moist, and he drew back after only the briefest kiss, looking down into Illya's face. The Russian blinked up at Napoleon dizzily and treated him to a shy smile that sent his pulse racing. From there, he bent forward again, his lips opening against his friend's. His lover's.
"Mm... Da, Napoleon, horosho..."
"This is okay?"
Illya nodded, wrapping his arms all the more tightly about his partner.
On the third kiss, Napoleon's tongue dipped inside Illya's mouth. He ran his tongue slowly under the inside of Illya's upper lip, against the gums, then deeper into the mouth to stroke along the hard palate. Illya moaned appreciatively and nipped at his lover's lower lip.
They parted, breathless, and Napoleon flashed a dazzling grin.
Illya returned it, his head spinning. "Napoleon... you said there was hot water for one shower only, yes?"
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