Illya swallowed. The lump in his throat remained. A date with Napoleon. More than a date, he was going to be at Napoleon's apartment.

Silly, he told himself. It's not like you haven't been to Napoleon's before. You've even had dinner at Napoleon's before.

But this is the first time that Napoleon had ever mentioned the possibility of sex beforehand, and so Illya felt justified in his nervousness.

Napoleon answered the door, looking as drop-dead gorgeous as could have been imagined. Well, considering the fact that he was fully clothed.

"Come on in," he purred, stepping half out of the way, so that they brushed as Illya entered. He was wearing cologne.

This, Illya realized, was Napoleon in full seduction mode. He wasn't sure how to feel. Excited, of course. Flattered, yes. Scared. Napoleon's seductions never lasted long, and he had heard the promises that his partner gave them.

"Guess what?" Napoleon asked.

"What?"

"Sometimes I can read your mind."

"Oh?" Illya wasn't really surprised.

"I couldn't say it in HQ, but... I love you. Really."

Illya felt a flush rising to his cheeks. "I wasn't-- I mean, I--"

"You weren't sure. I can't blame you for that. But I am capable of loving, really loving, someone. You're that someone."

He nodded dumbly, allowing himself to be led to the sofa.

"And did you know that I was half out of my mind with jealousy when I thought you wanted someone else. I think I could have done awful things to that poor Helene girl."

This time Illya laughed. "You thought--"

"Yes."

"But that's ludicrous."

"Is it? For all I knew, you--"

"Napoleon, it's ludicrous. Ludicrous that there should ever be anyone for me but you."

It was a very pleased Napoleon that kissed him. This resulted in a very pleased Illya.

"So... shall we eat?"

"I don't know. Does dinner taste as nice as you?"

"Only if you like spaghetti bolognaise."

Illya was at the table before Napoleon could stand.

"I take it as a yes."

"Think of it this way, lyubimaya; the faster we eat, the sooner you can kiss me again."

"Sounds like a plan." He nodded, pouring the wine. Illya had already served them both. "Perhaps we can go a little more in-depth with today's lesson. I don't think it was discussed adequately."

"Not in the commissary, that's for darn sure."

Napoleon laughed. "Perish the thought. You do want to, though, don't you?"

"Mm... yes." He nodded, answering around a large mouthful. "More than ever... is very good..."

"You always talk with your mouth full?" Napoleon teased.

"You've seen me eat often enough to know the answer." Illya retorted.

---/-/---

With dinner gone, the two agents found themselves curled up on Napoleon's sofa, drinks in hand.

"Ardent," Illya whispered. "Goryachij. Charming; Ocharovatelvnyj. Courtship; uhazhivanie. Compatible; sovmstimyj. Are the lessons over for tonight?"

Napoleon took Illya's glass without a word, setting both drinks down on the coffee table. Then he wrapped his arms around the smaller body of the Russian, letting his lips just barely touch Illya's.

"Da." He smiled.

"Good." Illya arched into Napoleon, bringing their mouths into firmer contact. As Napoleon's tongue traced his lips, he wished that he had had the foresight to have music playing. 'How Long Has This Been Going On' would have been the perfect soundtrack to the evening.

As said tongue slipped inside his mouth, he decided that the music wasn't important enough to require attentions which could otherwise be devoted to kissing.

As Napoleon's hands divested him of his jacket, tongue still probing expertly, he found that he could hear the music without any external aid.

"You're sure?" Napoleon asked, breaking the kiss.

Illya whimpered and resumed it, but Napoleon pulled him away again.

"I mean it, Illya. You have to think about this. If you say no, we can still kiss, but-- Look, I don't want to rush into anything you're not ready for."

"You already asked me this at dinner." He complained, undoing Napoleon's tie. "I answered you then. My answer has not changed, now kiss me!"

"You're--"

"I am sure, Napoleon."

"Because there's a point of no return, and we're getting dangerously close."

"I live for danger." Illya responded, toying with his partner's buttons. "Can I undress you now?"

He nodded, returning the favour with alacrity. Within moments, they found themselves naked, breathless, and-- still sitting on the couch.

"Bed?" Napoleon asked.

"No." Illya kissed him again, his hands travelling down the other man's body. "You've got me in a state, Napoleon. I can't walk. Couch."

"Couch... it is..."

He rocked his hips against Illya's, eliciting a gasp. Brown eyes locked onto blue, they began an experimental rhythm of thrusts. The whole time, Napoleon explored Illya's chest with hands and mouth, playing with sensitive nipples and leaving love-bites all along the white-gold throat and clavicle.

Illya stiffened above him and came, swearing breathlessly in Russian. The sight of his partner, head thrown back in abandon, sweat-soaked hair a golden nimbus around his flushed face, was enough to bring Napoleon to a shuddering climax.

After a long moment of merely lying together trying to get their breathing under control, they looked at each other again.

Illya grinned, untangling his arms and legs from his lover. "Now we can move into the bedroom."

"Now? Give me a minute, will you?" Napoleon sighed, rolling his eyes. "Once my vitals are back to normal, I promise we can move back into the bedroom, and I will make love to you two or three more times before the night is out."

"That's quite a promise."

"We're quite a pair." He shrugged. Then he noticed the series of marks left along Illya's throat. "Oh..."

"Oh, what?"

"It's a good thing you own so many turtlenecks, that's all."

---/-/---

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